:)

Feeling indomitably happy.

Reconciliation.

And then there was this skit. Adhunik Mahabharat.

I was in the Chemistry lab, sniffing the little labelled bottles to glory, when Anwesha walked up to me and announced that i was in a skit. Really blunt and out of the blue sort of announcement, if you get my point.

I was almost hysterical before i wilted.

After they calmed me down, and i started talking coherently again, Tima told me that life wasnt really that bad. She even said that she would talk to "them" about letting me write the script if thats what i wanted. It took me all my brains to realise that she was trying to make me comfortable.

Srijata wrote a beautiful script which asked some very fundamental physics questions. But it was resplendent with the very, ah, questionable behaviour of the students. So it was dropped.

On the next beautiful Monday, i went to the biology tuition. Little did i expect what i wasnt supposed to expect. When i was walking out of the tuition, i ran into the aforementioned Tima who revealed that i was Judhistir and Bhaswar aka Dung aka Android(for his rather studious tendencies) was Sahadeb. We could have been knocked down with a feather.

And that was the mere beginning,folks, of the most enchanting rehearsal saga.

We did approximately 5 classes in 4 days(bunked for the teachers, in the name of rehearsals!) and practiced. At first there was this trouble with getting everyone to learn up there lines( I am telling you, we were a bunch of hopeless amateurs. Not that we are pros now, but we are slightly less amateurs). We witnessed an ego clash, a meltdown, a non cooperation movement(mini scale), we lauded Kiki's script*(and lamented our failure at acting upto it) and Roro's acting, we had a brief all fun and no work meeting in my house(chicken momo's, btw), We cried in despair- Me and Pc, specifically, we loved talking about the various ways in which we could flunk, but we didn't. Once and for all. I even noticed the princie laughing, Probir Sir-somewhat less murderous, Arijit Sir-Chuckling, Dilip Sir-oh well...

That screams success. And so, delirious with success, we, the men in punjabis and the women in sari's( petty pretty and half of them trippy) tried to squeeze 13 of ourselves in two cars. Gist is that we went to south city to celebrate success.

After coming back home, and cleansing my mind of the tit bits of delirium, I heaved a huge sigh of content.

And then came the anguished bellow.

I systematically worked out a timetable, and began working on the MCQ's.

Night after night i slept instead of working, subjecting the timetable to regrettable neglect as i am wont to do, and before i knew it, I was 7 days away from the MCQ's.

It was then that i found the diary of Adrian Mole. Written my Susan Townsend.

Its a story about a pervy kid of 15 and two third years( the kid's very particular about the two third). How he experiences the teenage blues, how he tackles the lack of people to appreciate his intellectual self, how the incompetent BBC people didnt recognise the poet in him, how everyone seemed to be impressed by his vocabulary, how he didnt know what do do with the central section of his novel which just needed to be begun and ended fittingly, How both his parents were carrying on clandestine affairs in the summer of 1983, how both of them consummated the relationship(not details here, no), resulting in two kids none of which helped Adrian's life in anyway, how his running away from home plan came to a most anticlimactic end ...and so on and so forth. It ends on a high after Adrian makes out.

A funny book, undoubtedly, but not one deserving indiscriminate adulation. I have read better.

On Friday evening, i was extremely tensed because i realised that i knew nothing of volumetric expansion or the profundity of apparent depth in Refraction. So i switched on the television to ease the knotted nerves. (nice logic, na?)

Whaddya know? I ended up watching the talented Mr. Ripley. Impressive movie! jude Law looked so darn convincing.

Saturday offered tears of the Sun after a day filled with Bio and Chemistry specific misery. It was TOO much, really. I succumbed to my mind's need. Antoine Fuqua's film depicted a rescume attempt in the midst of An African civil war in Nigeria. I really became morally conscious after watching the atrocities depicted in the film.

Sunday night. taut nerves because i find that the TMH problems are so TOTALLY beyond me. So i relented and let instincts take control. I ended up watching The Condemned. It had some action, a terrible storyline, transparent acting...in short a perfect tomato.

Needless to say(wonder why people put it just before they are saying it), all those movies did a bit of NO GOOD to my preparation.

And so, after two days of intense MCQs, talking about which is a taboo on principle, i am free to blog and thus express myself freely.

en route to home, I saw the temporary bamboo fences that they are erecting along the E.M Bypass. they do so create a pujo-pujo atmosphere, eh? Its a downright pity that we have the Half yearlies after the Pujos. But i aint complaining. I dont want it before the pujos.

Evening, maters!



*Script : Adhunik mahabharat elaborates on a scene in the Pandava abode where they are deliberating war with Durjodhon. A reporter rudely intrudes and their war dilemma makes it to the news channel-420 ghonta. In spite of the telling arguements that Judhistir(which is me) advances, they still decide on war because of a certain Dada who comes in the end and tells them that he is the ultimate authority who solves all the problems in the world. Incidentally, he was wearing an America T-shirt and the music when he entered was the Yankee doodle. Oh and yeah, Rohan was the star with the guitar.

!

Says Bhaswar, "You should be a comic strip!"

I was phlattered.

While returning from Chemistry tuition, the heavens opened up. By a quirk of fate, i found an umbrella in my possession. So, armed with that i decided to walk from Hazra to Gariahat. A walk in the rain, while sniffling periodically, has its disadvantages but i love doing that.

Rohit was reasonably disturbed that Soham tried to set fire to his girlfriend. I never knew Soham used such tactics. He did not recognise the number from which the red alert sms came, his mobile being new. So he saved the number as "helper". Hey, helper, you see the irony in this?

My dad threatened that he will kidnap my guitar if i don't do well in EITHER bio OR math. As in do REALLY well. So, i am torn. Between tying him up and chloroforming him. I am open to more, lets say, subtle suggestions.

I am investigating the incipient urge that i feel to take FB quizzes. There is very little evidence to suggest that those quizzes aren't absolutely rubbish. Yet, knowing all that, i still tolerate those quizzes comfortably. Why...

this place needs a blog.

If I blog now, try as i might, i will NOT be able to prevent it from being an echo of Prat's. Homework has attained new meaning in my life. Long gone are the days when homework meant writing a page of A,B,C,D to submit to your teacher the next day...(I figure that since i am going to lament growing up, why not begin at the beginning?)

I should write about our teachers. However, I should respectfully refrain keeping in view the theory put forward by Rohan. What if there are more like Trinanjan sir? tech savvy teachers who stumble on to my blog? It might be unpleasant for me, i am forced to think, and so, i will be um, euphemistic. The feelings between us-me and the teachers- run high and low through very jittery regions, and the description might turn out to be very unfavorable for them.

I could, for instance, talk about Dilip sir and his very attractive personality. His articulation, his attitude, his...ah, i need to stop with the sarcasm. A teacher, i must remind myself.

And then, the direct antithesis of Dilip sir, Arijit Sir. I could marry that guy.

They say that school life is fun. Its not always apparent, not when we are going through what we are going through. But i guess, things after this are gonna be like, radically different. And thats not good. Cause i fear change in general. Cause I miss bad memories too.

I will stop before this blog transcends the barrier of sense.

hum drum

Yes, i have got serious problems. I am suffering incessantly from a psychological problem that is inhibiting my writing. The good news is that an unusually interesting thing happened. Theres this word "heuristic". Now, i didnt know that such a word featured in the English lexicon and also honoured the language by containing a meaning. But i learnt of the word today, and within a minute, during a critical analysis of the Schrödinger equation, the word featured in my life for a second time! Now, thats cool. Doesn't happen VERY often. Interesting thing that must be noted is that the first scenario in which i found the word was in NO way related to Chemistry.

And i must asseverate that section E is ideal. I am supremely pleased that I managed to change. I would love to write a lot about the why's and how's but i figure that i shouldn't let go completely on a blog.

:) Hurrah!

I love school.

Changing the point conspicuously,
As Rohan would agree, the word "nothing" has assumed exceptional meaning these days, hasn't it, mate? Nothing encompasses so much...It boggles you, you know. An omnipotent word that can be used to answer almost any question.

I want to read Ayn Ryand, Khaled Hosseini, Alberto Moravia, Frederick Forsyth, Alistair Maclean. Also, featuring in the second list are Pullman, Paolini, Amitava Ghosh. But Dammit, i don't have the time!

And i have an open plea to anyone sufficiently accomplished: I seriously need some help in the figuring out bit of the Schrödinger equation. peleeej, help me out. :(

School.

South Point.
Friends.
Plus Two.
Section.
Time.
Hey.

Movies.

I seem to have a thing for unusual, NOT critically acclaimed movies.I watched two films in the past week, both being unknown and lacking any sensational cast. I can guarantee that none of them are potential Oscar winners, but heck, the films were good. They are supposedly called "Martian Child" and "Sydney White and the Seven dorks." I loved both of them.

The first one-Martian Child- is a comedy drama. It revolves around the life of a strange creature and an alien.


David Gordon(John Cusack) is a popular Sci-Fi writer in the movie. His wife died when they were trying to adopt a child. Later on, Gordon decides to adopt a child called Dennis(Bobby Coleman). Dennis has an infallible belief that he is from Mars. And thats the story, really. The coming together of an adult who has his head in the clouds, being a sensational Sci-Fi writer, and Dennis, a boy who alleges that he is a Martian. Its a heartwarming movies based on the novel by the same name. Its all about the Gordon's struggles to be a parent. And Dennis's struggle to be an earthling. About How a distraught, kleptomaniac child and an adult find that at the end of it all, they do belong to someone. That "if the earth revolves around the sun at 67000 miles per hour, then we don't need to be from Mars". The movie is packed with quirky little lines that make you feel rather good on a hot summer afternoon. The film ends with one of the best lines ever.

"Every kid, when they come to the world, is just a bundle of enthusiasm and untapped potential. Aren't they just like aliens? Scared, clueless...this is how an alien learnt to love a earthly creature."

I am sure that I got it wrong, but heck, i don't care. I loved the movie!

The other one "Sydney White And the Seven Dorks" is obviously inspired by Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. However, there are no dwarfs in the movie. It is based on the college life of a young girl called Sydney White(Amanda Bynes). A college run by the a tyrannical President Of student Council, a girl called Sarah Paxton. Sydney White comes to this college as an outsider. In an effort to fit in, She tries to join a Elite group called the Kappa mumbo jumbo. (Er, it was essentially an all girls club who had "class" and "style".) However, Sydney was disillusioned about this elite group fairly fast, and she left their place after a clash with Paxton. She ended up in The Vortex(where losers are sucked in). The Vortex was something along the lines of a tumbledown shack where seven weirdos(the seven dorks) were holed up. The entire movie is centered around this group, about how Sydney stays with a bunch of unwanted guys "who have no experience with girls" are a "bit blunt", and how she makes them sociable, and ultimately unsettles the tyrannical Paxton, thereby making the college a home to all outsiders. Essentially a teen comedy, and one with liberally cliched contents, it packs in some good stuff in 2 hours. Its message: We are all dorks.



It has an interesting cast, hardly any mature performances, a very common place storyline, a happy ending and liberal amounts of the essential "spirit". Maybe thats why i liked it.

I wont recommend any of the movies if you are looking for something meaningful. However, if u have some time which needs to be spent in a non-regrettable fashion, i suggest you see them. Please don't expect to be enlightened or bowled over. Just expect to feel good at the end.

A Chat (though she thinks that i didnt chat nicely)

Ting-Tong.

I looked up from my rummaging. Guests.

My father's old (they always iterate that they go way back) had come to pay a visit.

He was accompanied by his wife and his daughter, a cute young thing. I was about to squeeze her cheeks when she side stepped experlye and said, "Excuse me, I am eleven."

"Right." I said, withdrawing my hand. I recollected an incident that PC was telling me about. Of course, you know about it.

After all the niceties had been exchanged, all the fuss over how much the children have grown done with, the grown-ups began talking about Room number 2419, a mysterious place where my father and his friends had done things that...that people generally do at that age.

Since I had nothing much to do except to offer occasional laughs of disbelief, I began fiddling with my hair, collar, fingers and so on.

"Tell me something, what do you use for your hair? Gel or water?", asked the eleven-year-old-girl whose name I later found out was Rinki.

"Er, I don't use gel. Water occasionally.", I answered, looking at her curiously.

"No, you use gel." She said sanctimoniously, as if that's a felony.

"No, I don't!"

"Well, for the past ten minutes you have been constantly fiddling with your hair!" She accused. "You are a show-off!"

"Well, that's because I was sitting idle, dear." I said and added, "And come to think of it, you have been trying to put that lock of hair behind your ear for quite some time now." I said pointedly.

"So?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"So what?!"

"I am a girl." She said, as if that explained everything. "We do that."

"Right." I said, and wisely refrained from pointing out the small hole in her logic. Just eleven after all.

Remind me to be careful about how i use the word just.

***

She seemed the quintessences of curiosity once she got the measure of me. Is that a good thing? She stomped about without the slightest regard to whether I mind or not.

She suddenly came upon my guitar during her scrupulous inspection of my room.

"Play it.", She said austerely. I looked at her.

"Please." She added as an after thought.

I decided to play "Happy-Birthday" and "500 miles". I have very limited choices, you see.

"Play Jai ho." She said.

"Er, I am not an expert. Jai ho is pretty tough."

"But I want-"

"I cant." I said, and went on strumming absentmindedly.

"Tell me something, Why aren't you talking to me?" she asked.

"Er, I am talking!" (Kindly read the blog from the beginning if you, the reader, have any doubts.)

"No, I mean properly. Like chatting." She said, raising her left eyebrow. Now, I envy people who can do that. It's SO expressive! I want to do it. That reminds me, Raktima can do that too. Hmph.

"Well, you might have not noticed, but we have some differences. I am not used to talking about the stuff that you might want to talk about." I explained kindly.

"Yeah, you are right." She said, nodding. "Boys are pretty dense." She said knowingly.

I blinked.

"I was referring to our age difference, dear. I am 16. You are 11." I said, trying to gain back some respect.

"Oh thats not a problem!" She said, jumping up. "Girls have a 5 year mental lead on boys, don't you know! We are more advanced, you see. You try me, I can keep up!" she said giving me a dazzling smile.

'A chauvinist if there ever was one!' I thought to myself before I treated her to a Rohan smile.

[There is a particular photograph in facebook in which Rohan has been captured smiling. The camera man was Roro. It's that smile that I am talking about. Please, do see it.]

"Well, What do I talk about..." i said, thinking.

"Why don't you start with how many girlfriends you have?" she asked innocently.

"I, er, How many?"

"Yeah, like 7 or 8?"

"Aa.."

"Oh leave it." She snapped."You probably don't even know what a girlfriend is.", She said dismissively. I tried to give her another Rohan smile.

"Don't do that, you look like a baboon."

"Right.", I said, hissing. She made me realise that I can hiss a word that has no "s" in it.

"How many boyfriends to you have?", I asked her to drive the conversation away from turning into a comparison between a baboon and me. I was expecting triple digits.

"None." She said contemptuously.

"Why am I not surprised?", I blurted before I could stop myself.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing!" I said quickly.

"Yes thing!", She said suspiciously "what surprise were you-"

"Oh, i said that it's a surprise that KKR are batting like that." I said, nodding at the television.

"What does KKR have to do with boyfriends?" She asked.

"You see, Shah Rukh Khan... was the boyfriend..." I began.

"Oh, do shut up." She said irritably. "I don't want boyfriends.", She stated royally.

I was flabbergasted. No one tells me to shut up! But the bottom line is that i did shut up. :(

"But don't worry, boyfriends happen all the time. You need to chill out. Besides, don't you think that you are a bit too young for-" I began.

"No, I don't think so.", She said complacently. "You are perfectly old enough to-"

"I was talking about you.", I said.

"Oh its the same, don't you know the equation?" She asked, probably thinking to herself 'hes dumb.'

"Equation?", I asked densely.

"Are dhyatt, I told you. 11G=16B. Difference of 5. Its a constant.", She snapped "Like in Physics. My mum told me that g, thats is gravity by the way, is a constant." She said smugly.

"Right.", I said, gritting my teeth delicately. "You are smart."

"I know. I get that a lot." she said, smiling good-naturedly. Was she joking? Maybe. I can never be sure.

***

"Yeah, I am in South Point. You didn't know?" She asked me severely. I was being reprimanded for something that I had no possibility of knowing. Jesus.

"In class six. In high school." She finished.

"Oh, I am in 11. In the same school."

"Oh! Then you should come and meet me during Lunch break!", She exclaimed.

"Uh, Oh-kay.", I said, nodding, imagining a very eventful Lunch break.

"And bring your friends along. Your girlfriends, boyfriends...everyone!", She said brightly.

"I don't think that will be a good idea..." I said cautiously. I have some self respect, you know.

"What?!", she asked.

"Nothing nothing. Yeah, i'll do that, yeah."

***

Guys. When's the school reopening? :(

And, are there plenty out there like this little young thing? Mommy!

catch-22

Catch-22 is a good book. Definitely.

Life.

A little boy, who has seen but 6 summers, walks home from school crying.

Sniffing loudly, he knocks on the door.

His mother opens the door.

Seeing him cry, the natural question.

"What happened?" she asked in a voice and expression that he could never understand. All he knew was that it made him feel like he was the most loved boy in the world.

The boy, eyes filled with tears, brought up his elbow, and rolled up his sleeves to reveal a cut near the elbow.

"Mimi said that this cut will become big. My hand will fall off, and i will have only one hand!" he said, trying to stop himself from wailing loudly. His teacher had told him that boys don't cry.

His mother couldn't help smiling.

"No dear, your hand will not fall off." She said kindly, taking him inside.

"It will not?" asked the boy, hope immediately flaring inside him. He believed everything that his mum said. His mum was Einstein and Newton, don't you know. She knew why the starts twinkled. She even knew how far America was. Awesome.

"No, it will heal completely and your arm will be just like it was before." She said smiling, while washing the cut.

"Really? Then Mimi is wrong?" he asked, undertones of smugness already creeping in his voice.

"Yes, she is." Mum said, inwardly smiling at the theories that kids come up with. Well, thats them, isn't it?

An hour later, washed and fed, the boy toddled to Mimi's house to tell her what he thought of her theory.



Years later.


A boy sits in his room looking at the drizzle outside. pitter patter. tip top.

He likes to keep his room dark.

"What happened?" asked his Mum, walking in quietly without switching on the light.

"Nothing!" exclaims the boy. "Why should anything be wrong?" he asked, laughing slightly.

His mother looked at him straight. And narrowed her eyes slightly.

"You wont tell me? Fine." Said Mum.

"But what do i tell you?!" asked the boy, looking half-amused. "Theres nothing wrong!"

"Then, why are you laughing nervously? Why are you staring at the rain?"
The boy prepared himself for these questions. And quickly began to fabricate answers.

His Mum knew him well, he knew that, but he also knew his mum well.

"I believe you." said his Mum. And she left.

The boy was left behind feeling worse than he was before, although he didn't think it was possible.

This is what life does to people. And they say...well, they say a lot of things.

Smelly problem of xeroxing fans and needles.

There is JUST something about the smell of Spirit. What i love about the house being painted is the smell of the spirit. Ah, Bliss! What a perfectly out of the world fragrance! If it weren't for the repulsed looks that mum throws at me, I would most probably spray it all over me.

The smell is quite affecting too. It drives everything out of my mind. Feels like something good is happening. Increasingly silly, i know.

But i cant keep a bottle of spirit with me all the time. Its sad, really. I don't even have the luxury of nail polish removers.

So, the window grills have been painted black. They were green before, if you must know. So, all in all, a good change.


***

My mum theorized that there are Four wide variety of mums.
1.Good mum
2.Bad Mum
3.Normal mum
4.South Point Mum.

the others being common, i will concentrate specifically on the South Point Mums.

Now, the south Point mums show very complicated characteristics. They seem to posses an infinite wealth of knowledge about their ward's syllabus, about which "xeroxes" are better, which teacher is giving out the most "Bankable" notes, how to ensure that their sons/daughters get the highest, et cetera.

The other day, i was ambushed by a couple of South Point Mums when i, in a moment of uncontrollable, unconditional madness, said that I am in 11, and in South Point.
*shudder*

Also, my mum recounted some interesting tales about some ladies, whom she had the good fortune of studying outside Jagabandhu.

A lady was lecturing others on the importance of xeroxes in a students life. All of a sudden, a Maruti 800 ran over her foot. She was immediately taken to Ruby General hospital. She came back an hour later with her foot bandaged.

She said, "As soon as i reached, they xeroxed my foot. Oh dear, what am i saying! I mean X-rayed..."

The side effects of xerox, ladies and gentlemen.

***

I find it very disagreeable. The fact that most five to ten year olds feel bossy at ease in my presence. What happened to good old intimidating tall 16 year olds? I must enroll for a personality hardening up course.

***

Also, has anyone of you found a cure for pins and needles? Well, this might work. If your left foot is undergoing the sensation, then pinch your right ear lobe. And left ear lobe for the other leg. Of course, do this only if you want to get rid of the sensation. I personally love pins and needles.


***

And i have a problem. An exhaust fan problem. Someone explain it!

An exhaust fan, when seen from behind shows an illusion. It is a black mobile patch that changes with the angle of sight. If your line of sight is perpendicular to the blade of the fan, its okay. As you move up or down, the black patch moves correspondingly down and up. At a tremendous risk of my nose, i studied it closely, but due to physical, mental as well as temporal interference from my mother I had to stop. I figure its something to do with light and stuff. Pray explain, someone.

Zoozoo!

Its been quite some time since they last made something this cool. Impressive concept, excellent ideas and amazing presentation! And fairly cuddly too! Why, these zoozoos could actually be considered a mascot for the IPL! I mean, hell yeah! They are almost synonymous to IPL 2nd edition! And more than the cricket, I spend my time waiting for the next Vodafone add. Vodafone has got some creative people, I must say!



Live long zoozoo!



Er, dont go by the picture. I wish a long, fruitful life to the zoozoos!

devil incarnate

If you have seen The Mummy, you'll know what i am talking about. Well, if you haven't seen The Mummy, then too you'll know what i am talking about anyway. I'll make sure of that.

I despise roaches. It may not be the most advertised or quoted fact, but that doesn't undermine its gravity. And the fact that they look like they are wearing mismatched shades with nothing but sinister intent in their eyes doesn't help matters. So, naturally, the incident brought out the best in me. Or, worst from the roach's perspective.

I was sitting on my table, happily contemplating how my friends would react to the intrusion of a poisoned slug in their alimentary system. The weather was humming along as well, warm sunshine sneaked in through the narrow gaps in between the curtain, Mum, exceptionally pleased that i cleaned by table, had put some fresh flowers on my table. A happy atmosphere in general. Things were perfect, that is, until the cockroach decide to cause mayhem.

It appeared out of nowhere, and landed precisely on the spine of my Comprehensive chemistry.

"Nice position, Moron!" I though evilly as i snapped the book shut.

But the cockroach had inhuman reflexes! Well, yeah, it wasn't human, but um, the point is it escaped.

And it escaped right beneath my chair. I don't know about you guys, but I have serious issues with roaches under my chair.

So, i fled to call for reinforcements.

After a minute of hasty planning, mum and i appeared, armed to teeth. Me, holding a destructive mortein all-insect killer. Mum, a jharu and a hawaii, Bruce Lee style.

She supported me in my crusade against roaches.

We found the vermin seeking cover behind my P.C. My heart sank. I could never risk hurting my P.C. While i was busy getting sentimental, Mum was all business. She took up a sponge ball from somewhere, and aimed it at the cockroach.

The clairvoyant cockroach dived out of the way before she threw the ball. Mum advanced with all the skills of a veteran roach hunter. There are a number of advantages of having a dangerously smart mum. On my side, of course. She gave me some complicated instruction to get my positioning and timing right as she determined the roach's reaction. She really understands roaches, you know. Life-long enemies know a lot about each other.

She lunged. The roach jumped out from behind its cover, shot a few murderous glances at us, and disappeared behind the dustbin.
Tasting victory, i planted mum at the door who looked terrifying with that jhata.

I carefully positioned myself. Careful in case i was ambushed.

And ambushed i was, but the caution paid off. I ducked out off the way as i realised that the cockroach had activated its last weapon. Wings.

"Two pairs of membranous wings from the meta thoracic region..."

Damn Membranous! They sure worked, and thats what counted!

"Mum, I-" I stopped midway as i looked at the door. My back-up had betrayed me. Mum had fled at the sight of the infernal wings. And she had locked the door behind her. I was all alone. And I had to fend for myself.

"Treachery!" My heart screamed, "Traitor!"

My brain began calculating the odds of my success. Nothing turned up. No, i thought, its no good thinking I'm like Danny Maclean.

The rest, as they say, is history. Except that no one knows about this bit of history. Its been carefully suppressed by conspirators.

I took on the devil-incarnate-cockroach. i decided to finish it once and for all. I fired with the mortein.

I injured it, but it was yet to die. It flew at me. I evaded it yet again, and managed to hit it with a newspaper. I picked up a hawaii, and threw it at the roach.

It scurried out of the way.

I was about to deliver the final blow when it went to the window and flew away. To fight another day.

Sigh. I wait for thee, cockroach, to settle scores.

Cricket? Leave it to Ricky.

I walked into Rohit's locality expecting a royal welcome in the form of a ball hurtling towards me, but i found it deserted. The reason became apparent in a while.

I found Rohit Staring avidly at a nearby field. Strange.

"Er, whats up?" I asked curiously.

"The ball went in there." He said gravely, pointing at the field.

"How can a ball go IN-?" I swallowed the rest of the sentence. It was essentially a pond, reduced to a marsh by a sinister variety of hydrophilous plants. Otherwise popular as "pana pukur".

"But looking wont help!" I said sensibly.

"Oh, didn't i tell you? Ricky was holding the ball." he said dryly.

"Ah! Right."

[Don't squirm. He broke the surface seconds later in the midst of howls of despair and disappointment. We were hoping that he would maintain a permanent existence under water. The world would be a better place altogether.]

____________________________________

I was batting. Standing tall, looking intimidating with the bat.

Ricky, after having washed himself with several kinds of anti-septics, was bowling.

Rohit screamed at Ricky.

"Remember, bowl in the right AREAS so that he can atleast FACE it."

Ricky grinned like a maniac and bowled.

Damn it, I did FACE it. Literally.

I went down like a rock as the ball interfered with my aqueous humor. But i did manage to scream out something.

"Now, i know why you failed in English, you moron!"

____________________________________

Ricky's next ball.

Rohit was the braveheart holding the bat.

I was more optimistic than Rohit.

"Bowl SLIGHTLY out of line so that he edges it, okay?" I told Ricky importantly.

He nodded like noddy.

He bowled.

Shattering glass. A shrill cry. And an empty cricket pitch.

And we thought batsmen were the notorious window pane breakers.

~

It was a night of uncertainty.
Why, then, did everything go according to plan? Well, i for one, don't know the answer, but it was a night of uncertainty. Of a deceptive wind with its gentle ruffle, of an elusive moon in the backdrop of subdued reality.

From home to the station, the cab, the traffic, the smoke, the banners, the loudspeakers, the crowd... it was all subdued. Like a painting with just the background. And then, the painter forgets to finish it. An unfortunate, inadvertent masterpiece.

I was feeling hollow. Sensitive to all that went around, but not really paying attention to the song. Or the cello, or the trumpet.
And i floated along, certain in my objective, uncertain in my perspective.

The station hit me like smoke. I coughed, shut my eyes, and the smoke passed through me.

The train was standing beside the platform, steadfast in its representation(s).

Trains are nice, are they not?

I mean, these modern Eastern Railway trains. I have an insatiable attraction for trains. The solitary headlamps, screaming into the night...illuminating the parallel tracks, following the same path for miles, for days.

This train journey was particularly different from the others. In fact, so much so that it could almost be called a novel experience. People change, and i am no exception.

Fortune smirked, and i got a window seat. As i sat there, peering out at the world outside, the subdued reality started to redefine itself. To something less subdued.

Outside, a world was huffing and puffing with all its might. The coolies with their unbelievable balance, the trade cries of the hawkers, the chug-chug of some train, the grunge of metal somewhere. The cacophony almost felt like a subdued symphony.

I suddenly caught the eyes of a woman with a veiled face. She had a tumor on her face. As soon as she caught my eye, she turned away hastily, trying to hide herself. I turned away, feeling sorry for her. Or, did i turn away with disgust? There are somethings that i don't even admit to myself let alone others.

The seconds stretched into minutes, and the train whistled shrilly. It was time. With the trademark jerk, the train began to move, and for a moment, in spite of all the physics and tell-tale common sense, i played with the fact that maybe the station was leaving us.
______________________________________

The train had settled into its gentle rhythm. And its soothing noise. Its funny how the roughest noises seem soothing and gentle when ignored. Like the things that look lovelier when they are absent.

The distant bobs of light amidst darkness, the dark shapes of the tree, the three parallel shafts of light slanting on the ground from inside the train, the bright imposing moon splayed across the dark sky...It was a night of uncertainty.

After a while, i pulled myself away from the view outside, and tried to measure up the passengers. A rather unexpected sight met my eyes. All the persons in the compartment, and there were eight, were gazing into their cell phones with the sole exception of my father who liked his sleep. Where was the good humoured hello-hi? All my train journeys are associated with at least one bumbling friendship. I mean, i wasn't really prepared for this. Sad, really.

I took to studying the passengers. And decided to play a game. I looked at each of the passengers, and imagined what they were thinking.
The guy sitting beside me was smiling quietly, looking at his phone. I noticed it was text he was staring at. Most likely exchanging smses with his friend.

A fat, porky man on the upper side berth was staring contemptuously at the floor.
'Heh, He thinks he can cook better boullibaisse than me..."

A middle aged man, smoking his cigarette trying to imitate Rajnikanth.

A pretty young lady smoothening the wrinkles of her salwaar every 10 seconds.
"Someone is always watching me, I need to be presentable..."

Amidst all this the train moved on.

______________________________________

I got the middle berth. Recently, sleep on train has been rather elusive. I tend to wake up once every hour, check the watch and go to sleep again.

As the lights were extinguished one by one, i began to feel a weird sense of foreboding. Maybe because of the noise made by the train when crossing a bridge. I always have the nagging fear that the bridge will give away, that the last train was really the last straw for the bridge. With this kind of trepidation, sleep doesn't come easy.

By two, everyone was asleep. Or, they appeared to. I lied still, looking around like an owl. The deep sound of breathing, someone's hoarse cough piercing the silence, someone snoring, and of course, the train breathing.

I jumped down lightly from the berth, and went to the door. It wasn't locked. A man, dressed in rags, was sitting beside the door, looking despondently at the night rushing by. As i approached the door, he looked at me. He had smoky green eyes that clashed horribly with his grey-white hair.

"What are doing up so late?" He asked.

"Can't sleep." i replied, shrugging.

"Okay." Some people are so easily satisfied.

And he went back to staring at the night outside. His green eyes reflected curiosity. Not the innocent curiosity of a child, but the hardened curiosity of an experienced. An ironic, sardonic curiosity.

I lingered for a few minutes, and quietly came back. It was the green eyes that somehow put me to some sleep.

bed bugs?

A: Good night. Let the bed bugs bite. They are good guys.

B: Or maybe they are girls.

A:[before reading B's reply] They bite at nice places.

B: Er!! No! they aren't girls then!

A and B are real values.

One Liner

After everything,

"But I didn't actually ask you to do it, did I?"

A devastating sentence.

Inspiration.

Inspiration inspiration,
In and out like respiration,
Wonder for the moment,
Envy and then, atonement.

Dark and gullible, mellow
Serious, deep, a creepy halo.
Light, quirky and yellow,
Is their depth in shallow?

Time teaches the tricks,
Time heals and follows,
And from behind it kicks
Leaves you in the hollows.

Grudge Grudge and forget,
The tawny things that u never let,
Out through the moldy gate,
And try out its own fate.

Mask all that kept,
The ground beneath your feet,
Maybe You're actually inept
Like a scorching summer sleet.

Indecision on what to say,
Coupling with what not to;
You never will find a way,
Even when you have got to.

Inspiration inspiration!
What is thy purpose?
Is it holy complication?
Or just a blemished corpus.

Whoa! That was a lot.
Head feels good.

When the clock says-"Rant!"

Why do i grudge people so much? i shouldn't begrudge people the little things that make them. Its a confession of sorts, but well i promise not to do so again. Its involuntary, you know. Wish knowing something was synonymous to "realising and accepting" something. Wish things were easy. Simple. At least, thats my wish for now.

I owe biology a sincere apology. I was fundamentally wrong in my assessment of the subject. I was too hasty in branding it a subject without life. In broadcasting that it was an unworthy subject. Feels extremely stupid in hindsight. Biology is beautiful. Reading about Centrosomes, as sir went deeper and deeper, you tend to feel small as you realise what is REALLY going on in that body of yours. Its unreal, life.

I mean, contemplating life biologically or, anyway for that matter, is too cumbersome a though for a frail brain like mine. The feeling that authors describe in their book through a character in his deathbed.
"What a marvel of creation..."

Its the same feeling of smallness that I get when i stare at stars for too long.

And my latest realisation is the tadpolistic outlook. Did you know that a human from a tadpolistic outlook is almost inhuman? Please don't duh, for unlike most, i try to think out of the box. There are two types of people who do that. Genius and Mental. Now, i wouldn't give you unscrupulous people the liberty to chose one of them for me.

Tadpoles have potential to rock the world. A tadpole is a human's alter-ego. We all have a tadpole self. Try looking at the world through tadpole eyes. Try the tadpole confidence. The world will seem a better place, tadpolistically speaking.

Anything for a change, trust me, anything for a change. Boys like me get desperate easily. So they should stop testing me so often.

I should never be trusted with power. I will lose my head. I am rather pleased to give advice to the power-man and criticize him. This also shows that i am essentially an irresponsible spineless git. But the truths the truth.

Recently i am being peed on a lot by babies. In malda, and now, at a friend's place. Its fun even. Optimistically speaking. I treat babies very well, no thanks. Its not any revenge whatsoever. Expunge that thought from your mind.

This is true rambling. Guess midnight brings out the true rambler in me. What with so many things to keep me busy throughout the day.

Oh my its already 12:30! Goodnight!

How terribly strange/ To be seventy...

Beautiful day. Nice weather. I am prepared with biology. I have mustered the guitar drills. I should be quite pleased with myself and life in general.

I find myself thinking of veiled stuff. Of bright stuff that become dark when treated properly. Beg your pardon, improperly. To gradual Self disgust. To facile despair.

Life sometimes looks just like a facetious joke. And "smashingly strange" at other times. While plain wonderful at other. And its more than just mood. Its not the fault of life either.

Some songs remind you of something QUITE different than what the song is about. Yes, i am talking about Simon and Garfunkel here. And They severely affect your mood. I mean, none of the S&G songs are about claustrophobia, are they? Or, about all things dark and beautiful? I can name a number of such things that they remind me off.

I love to hate the songs for what they do to me. And so, i simply love to listen to them.

Kathy must have been a wonderful person, eh?

Summer Rain.

Slam! bang-bang!

The windows in my room frolicked with the wind.

"Rick! Close all the windows..." My mum's voiced trailed away into oblivion, for i was running to the terrace. I was expecting this sudden gust. I had trusted the Meteorological department today.

As i stepped into the terrace, too many things happened at once. I got dust into my eyes, and I became temporarily blind. The wind and rain rammed into my face. Someone's Newspaper fluttered and stuck to my already battered face.

But i didnt mind.

I splashed my eyes and took a better look all around.

"What did i see?"

Remember the "Selfish Giant" by Oscar Wilde?

"He saw a wonderful sight."

Well, I saw a wonderful sight too.

Trees swaying with happy turbulence, the grey clouds rushing, flying low like an armada of space ships, the dark war clouds brooding grimly in the centre of the sky, the birds already splashing in the improvised bird baths, the wind blowing everything away...

The smell of wet earth, the "sonda" smell. The smell of dust and rain.

Ah yes, the rain.

Pin drops to thick splooshy drops the size of my thumbnail. As i stood there, it began to rain in earnest. Once thoroughly soaked, the rain felt seriously cold. But there was a warmth in the cold. The warmth of the first summer rain. And the due warmth of the first summer rains of the last 2-3 years that i missed.

As i stood there, blinking against the rain, some old songs began to play in my mind as if from a badly tuned radio. In the background of age old images of Assam cyclones, of uprooted trees and flooded streets.

A moth, struggling against the wind, fluttered one last time and fell a foot away from me, dead. It was there for a full moment before the wind blew it away...

And then flooded the evanescent memories. Both old and new, the memories touched by the rain.Happy and sad. Dry and wet. Warm and cold. They stayed and reminded, before the wind blew them away one by one...

The flat owners came flooding in worrying about their clothes. Someone exclaimed that her precious black skirt has been blown away, someone swore aloud because his tata sky was one wire short.

And they broke the wet spell.

Oldy mouldy.

I was cleaning my hard disk. i found the character introduction of a fiction that i had tried to begin. I left it for obvious reasons. Er, obvious for me, of course. I say, people, can u recognize em? its really easy, you know.


Nigel: - A sleepy guy with excellent calculating abilities. Has the air of a guy confused about life in general. he has no idea whats going on. And if he did, he wouldn't know what do do about it. Has some hidden talents.

Sean: - The think tank. He has excellent far sight, insight and all other varieties of sight up his sleeve. He just misses the things under his nose. Has strong imagination, and is slightly paranoid about well, everything.

Jupe: - The Mr. Sensible. Apart from being sensible, he is also very smart, quick, intelligent and cunning. Or, so he preferred to think. He had the remarkable skill of arriving at the wrong conclusion at break-neck speed. And oozing confidence with sarcastic undertones.

Inu: A man with a tell-tale positive outlook. Is the owner of a fledgling software company, and currently, is looking for unsuspecting partners. Has strong affinity for money and students.

Raymond: An unexpected but welcome interjection into the world of the other four. A table-turner. Precocious. His ways belies his age. A kind gentle-man, quick witted and with a flair for deception(for a noble cause), story telling, and argument(for a noble cause).

Er, fictions too much of a bother. Sorry for editing it, but people, You were suffering from some grave misunderstandings! This should make sense!

The lengend of bxtp

Origin:
It was a fine day. I was having a chat with Mr. Roroschach. He was in a particularly irritating mood, subjecting me to unabashed sycophancy to which i, i have to admit, replied with equal enthusiasm. In course of our chat, Roro suddenly said- "Tor hobe".

Nothing smart occurred to me and i too replied-"tor o hobe."

That, my dea/er ladies and gentlemen, is when it all began.

Another fine day. I say "fine" to accentuate that it was finer that most so called fine days.

I was playing a game with Roro in which we were telling each other -"tor hobe".
In the midst of this thrilling game, Roro, in a moment of fey madness, stumbled upon a brilliant question.

"kano hobe?" he asked. The question that triggered it all.

"Because, mate, you have the thing." I said in high spirits. Like most great people, it hit us seconds later.

"Can you name it, and thus limit the thing?" asked Roro.

"No, i cannot. Since i cannot name it, it has to have a unpronounceable name. So lets give it a name." I replied gravely, for i had realised that potential of "the thing".

"LKDIOBDFLKNIDOUVIFVDFIBLNIOPH" offered Roro. Now, ladies and gentlemen, Roro is a fine lad, highly accomplished in a number of things. However, i refuse to concede that he has any talent in nomenclature.

"I want to make it unpronounceable phonetically, my man, not aesthetically revolting!" i said, disgusted. "Lets name it bxtp. Short and to the point", i said.

"bxtp it is!" agreed Roro.

And hence, bxtp was born.

Nature:
bxtp cannot be defined. Lets get the facts straight. We didn't invent it. We discovered it, and named it. And er, that doesn't undermine our achievement. It was, um, a stroke of genius.

Heres an explanation in FAQ format.

Q: What is bxtp?

A: Bxtp is a part of you. Its inside you, beside you, around you. It encompasses you, it fills you. The exact nature has not been ascertained, but Roro, in collaboration with some leading members of MESSIAH*, is developing the Metaphysioscpoe that will enable us to study the bxtp.

Mr Cat, the leading man in the field of "everything" in general, tried to describe it in this fashion. "It deals with potentail, creativity, innate goodness, the consciousness."

The closest description would be that it is a combination of sensitivity, potential, creativity, innate goodness, the consciousness AND the subconsciousness. With a certain amount of Luck and the supernatural that causes the little miracles in our otherwise mundane life.

*MESSIAH-Members enforcing Secret Senses in and around Humans.

Q:How does bxtp work?

A: bxtp is ingrained in you. It influences your decision. It directs your action. It encourages you, discourages you. It holds you back and propels you.

We are in the process of developing certain laws which will simplify the study of bxtp and its idiosyncrasies.

On critical analysis of bxtp, it was uncovered that bxtp changes with age. Although the exact demarcation of "age" hasn't been determined, every age has a new and developed bxtp. They may be similar in nature or Totally different from the old bxtp. Now, during the transition phase when an individual has to relinquish the old bxtp and accept a new bxtp, a number of unique changes are noticed. This phase can change an individual dramatically.

So on the basis of this observation we formulated the first law of bxtp:

Person remaining constant, the bxtp develops in direct proportion with age.

Q: How many types of bxtp are there?

A:6.5 billion.

Q:Can anyone lose their bxtp? damage it, enhance it?

A:T'is impossible. bxtp is a part of you. Yes, if you manage to kill yourself, you'll lose your bxtp. We haven't done that experiment yet, but you're welcome to volunteer.

Q: The discovery of bxtp is revolutionary?

A: Thats not a question.

Those who come and those who go.

You leave a kid beside an old dusty bedraggled car. When you return you'll inevitably find a wide smiling face on the glass panes of the car. And other interesting nonsensical figures. On a good day. On a bad day, well, just a face.

A very interesting habits noticed in toddlers. Give them a bowl of puffed rice. Its an inherent curiosity, i believe, which is responsible for this action. Without delay, they overturn the bowl. Once they have all the constituents on the floor, they derive a very curious satisfaction in eating the rice grains one by one. Searching for them, examining them(with the tip of their tongue jutting out of the corner of their mouth), and them popping them into their mouth.


..........

A distant relative of mine, who was 105, passed away yesterday. I met her once, 7 years ago. She was 98 then.
She was suffering from multiple diseases, so death, in a way, was a relief for her. But thats not i wish to discuss.
A lady who saw 105 springs in her life. A lady who is a history in herself. A lady who had the endurance to withstand the death of 8 of her kin, both younger and older. And the lady who witnessed the birth of a larger number still.

A lady who celebrated* a centenary birthday. A lady who lived through, what we call, a "lifetime" of experiences. And how!


*She actually smiled and recognised MOST people who visited her on her birthday. The number ran well into triple figures.

D'Dmas

Anyone seen that D'Dmas Collection G add? In which the lady tells us in details what she would like? When asked by a waiter?
Aren't adds supposed to entice people? Aren't they supposed to be alluring?
This is...i mean, words fail me.

Him.

A dark wooden room. Two black mahogany chairs, both easy ones, facing each other. A small dark round table in between them. With one decrepit ash tray. One solitary window facing the west. A square window with a broken pane. A thin shaft of light piercing the darkness of the room. But not rudely. An atmosphere of stillness. Of misguided peace.

The warm orange shaft of light. Falling on the floor to reveal the dusty wooden floor. With cracks in it. That creak when stepped on. The dust motes swaying in the light. The only evidence that time isn't standing still.

The smell of smoke and age. And dust and wood.

A man sitting on one of the chairs. A man with half closed eyes, blowing soft smoke rings. And waiting. Or, is he dreading? Or, maybe hoping? But not moving except, except the periodic smoke rings. Distorted smoke rings.

A deathly silence. No, not deathly yet. A silence broken only by the sound of a deep muffled breathing. Only if one listens hard enough. Very hard.

Something stops. A soul passes from the house of silence to the land of silence. But nothing changes. Or everything does. For different people. For him? Nope.

The state of ennui

I somehow don't feel inclined to be. In other words, there are a few things about my existence that i do not find acceptable. Like the fact that i am getting repulsively bored. Now, this isn't really fair, is it? After the boards one has every right to expect that the lord will take mercy and bestow some prolonged happiness on him. Well, maybe the Lord has other plans. I do not approve of them.

Tchah.

I have so much time. I am not against utilising this time. But the manner of utilisation has to be according to my liking. This little sentence started of a argument of epic proportions in my home. Bah! Too much is being taken for granted.
I want to be like Batman. I want to protest and fight from behind the shadows. And do all that with an attitude. A rummy sort of revenge.

The other day i thought aloud-"Wish i were batman." And then, i looked outside to gauge batman prospects. You know, it feels really nice when nature agrees and encourages. As i thought the aforementioned thought aloud, I noticed this:



With imagination, it resembles The batman emblem. Well, an augmented emblem with frayed edges. But Nature concurred. That is the relevant point.

I want to travel. Go and see places. Do things. I want to be tired, tired of all the walking and exertion, tired enough to fall into an exhausted dreamless sleep. I want to feel the heat. Sitting in my room, in this pocha heat is one thing. And walking directly under the sun, walking far and long is another. Its better and infinitely more bearable.

I have nothing to do. Its an absolute defeat, a devastating blow to your morale when you turn to your books out of boredom. Text books. So, i am 3D. Disjointed, disoriented, disgruntled.

A change from this stupor feels like salvation. So, when i was offered the opportunity, I was remarkably quick to say yes. My good mother who perceives me as a lazy sloth kind of person, was rather surprised. Today, i went to our Junior School to collect books for my cousin. I had the opportunity of spending only one fateful year in that school. All friends and comrades talk about the fond memories that they associate with that school. A critical juncture of their life, one that they recollect with a slow smile and cheerful eyes.

In my case, it wasn't so. I spent so little time in there, that I left before it could leave any lasting impression. This idea, i noted with something close to surprise, is wrong. The trip to the school today proved so and i realised that somethings just compulsively affect you. Whether you like it or not, want it to or not. Another thing-I like playing with kids half my age. I decided yet again.

It has been a long time since I last envied people for their happiness. I do now. And I will continue to do so till things change. Obviously for the better.

Potpourri

When i locked the door yesterday, i had a weird feeling. Doubtless that i have locked many a door before, but this time, i had a weird sense of deja vu. The way the shaft of light fell on the lock and the way the key hung, its ring swinging like a hapless pendulum...there was something strange about it all. And the net effect could have been disastrous, i almost forgot to lock the door in all that quiet mayhem.
........

I have a very pertinent question that i wish to ask of the experts. How do they take blurred pictures in cameras superbly equipped with anti-blur mechanisms? One can understand that most people like recognisable photos, but there must be blasted option to turn that thing off. I like my face looking like melting ice cream. So what? My face, my ice cream.
........

I am not really into politics. But i read the newspapers. I want to ask something, and its a pretty straightforward question. Do Politicians really think before talking? That is all.
........


Mother is leaving for a couple of days.
Me and dad were pottering about doing her bidding when suddenly she addressed us in the voice that is the precursor of interesting happenings in our home.
"I will be leaving for a few days. You WILL be able to manage, right?" She said looking at us with conflicting emotions. Pity, exasperation, fear(not for us, for the house.I have very good reasons to believe so.)

"Not to worry, Madame. My Comrade here is an exceedingly amiable chappie. Be sure to leave a few instant coffees in the kitchen and he'll be very easy to manage. Besides, with an able housekeeper like me, he really cant do much." i said affably. I took a quick look at my dad. Highly reminiscent of a guppy, he was.

"And what about you?" she asked, refusing to smile though i could detect faint, almost imperceptible, twitches in the neighbourhood of her lips.

"I will just potter around doing this and that. Please let your mind be tranquil, for i have very healthy plans for the next few days." I said pleasantly.

"You must stop reading that book! You are so insufferable!" She said, now smiling.

"And i don't like being called comrade. Least of all by my son." added my dad.

"That, my good lady and gentleman, is out of question. I plan to grow up into (a) Psmith. The quintessence of intelligence and Suavity!" I said, "Now, you must excuse me, for though i find your company very pleasurable, I somehow have a mad craving for the sunshine outside."
........

Quote of the day (subhojit Sir): Engineering does not mean pouring oil into the Engine.
........

I have developed a very succinct phrase that describes how I am when shut indoor for the greater part, beg your pardon, WHOLE of the day. Nothing brilliant, but its accurate, you have to admit. '3D-Disoriented, disjointed, disgruntled.'

Nice. A good morning to you all.

Humour and terror.

I know, Wodehouse is considered the pinnacle of humour, but in his writing i find a rather affecting quality. So much so that now, i want to talk like Psmith. Really want to. But that isn't wholly possible, for people often ask the appalling question, "Why are you talking like a book?" These days, the number of people appreciating good humour is dwindling alarmingly. Sigh.



That apart, I had a terrifying experience last night. And i don't use the word "terrifying" for some grand effect. It was every bit as terrifying as the word means. I was almost caught in the crossfire of the clash between two parties. About twenty feet ahead of our cab, we noticed, and not without momentary as well as protracted fear, that a few men were hurling bombs. A thick haze of smoke had settled over the road. That was topped with some pipe guns going off. My Dad, with remarkable alacrity, told the driver to go for a 180 degree maneuver. As the car turned around i saw a thin fellow walk right past holding a small black revolver. Like those you see in movies except, this wasn't any goddamned movie. I caught his eye. And he caught mine. My eyes, displaying a treacherous mind of its own, slowly passed over to his hand which brandished the revolver while all i wanted was to shut my eyes. His fingers moved. My mind stopped. Heart is involuntary, otherwise it would have too. His fingers moved towards the trigger and hid the revolver from view. And he walked right past while we sped in the opposite direction.

Which is why now, i am in a position to describe exactly how one feels when fearing for his life. Melodramatic? I think not.

United its languid. Individually its depressing. Somehow its deceptive.

I am closing this blog down indefinitely. Due to some complex/simple mental problems, I don't feel like continuing. I'll just hope i get inspired quickly to write stuff again. Till then.

Times like these, nothing fits. Nothing works.

I end with a few words. Completely random. But not disconnected.

Originality. Eminence. Trial. Points. half.
Disappointment. Hesitation. Open. (In)Significance
Tale. Wish. Exasperation. Comparison. Eyes.
Complex. Change. If. Only. Maybe.
Just like that. Yes. And No.

A pioneer. A legend.

I just remembered that Charlie Chaplin wasn't a good father. Highly inconsequential, isn't it? We don't remember Charlie Chaplin because he was an exemplary father but as the best comedian ever, one who bestowed the gift of laughter on the people of the world when they needed it the most. The god of comedy. He made the world laugh without uttering a single word. A pioneer. A legend. And yet... his son never felt close to him. Years of neglect led his son to grow bitter and write an article on his father, an unusual article that shed light on the lesser known aspects of Chaplin's life. That too, years after Chaplin died. But its inconsequential, isn't it?

A pioneer. A legend.

:-D

Cheers! I'm 16!

Finally!

South City to Hong-Kong, Hitler to Tom cruise...

This is Rick, reporting from his home about some striking incidents that unfolded yesterday in the Lake gardens area. It was planned that 8 euphoric pointers would congregate at South City to watch the Academy Award winning Slumdog Millionaire.

The programme started with most of us reaching late. Although not of any real significance, but it must be reported that our dear old Prithviraj almost started without his purse. Anyway, on reaching south city a rather woebegone surprise greeted us, a surprise that we anticipated but neglected. A tribute to our blind optimism.

When buying tickets for the 10:00 am show, the Lady at the counter, though not unscrupulous, was forced by rules and regulations to bar us from entering because we were underage. At this point, Rohan, the overgrown chump among us, decided to try his charm on the lady. Heres an excerpt.

"No Sir, we cant allow anyone below eighteen."

"But we are all eighteen and above!" insisted Rohan.

"What about him?" she asked pointing at Kaustuv's brother Krishnayan who's all of 10.

"Oh! Actually he's deformed, he's perfectly eighteen." said Rohan without blanching.

And his charmed must have worked because he came back grinning with 10 tickets. And so, just as we were about to exalt at the successful deception, the guards at the gates spoiled it all.

"You need age verification."

"Whats that?" asked Bhaswar.

"Something that verifies your age." said the man expressionlessly.

"i know!('you moron', bhaswar must have thought)" said Bhaswar. "But like what?"

"Driving license, College ID and the sorts."

i was about to whip out my School ID but i realised it was concrete proof that i WASN'T eighteen.

So we all gave up, while Anwesha looked horrified because she was the one who paid all of the seven hundred bucks for tickets and no doubt dreading that the others wont pay her back.

But of course, Rohan, the man of the moment, came up with something.

"You don't understand" he told the guards "We are all a large family and everyone is above eighteen and..." I couldn't hear the rest because i escaped snorting and laughing. However, Rohan wasn't too lucky this time. We weren't allowed to watch Slumdog.

So we all barged into Starmark to take out our fury. (Actually we walked in gracefully, but well, i need to show we weren't quite pleased with the authorities.) Once in Starmark i pounced on "Kite Runner", "Airman" and a couple of other books. As a result i managed to read none of them. And moreover at starmark, my reading habits were unabashedly ridiculed by Miss Raktima and all the 'Chetan Bhagats ran out of stock right at the crucial moment as though the books reciprocated her dislike for them'.

It was decided unanimously that we would catch the 12 o clock show of Valkyrie. And so we decided to have lunch at the food court. We came out of Starmark but Kaustuv couldnt be found. By the time we found Kaustuv, Rohan managed to lose himself. We continued in this fashion for a quarter of an hour and then regrouped. I also had a good mind to slink off and get lost but its me, isn't it? Always thinking about the greater good.

It was here that a problem of impressive magnitude manifested itself. Well, a problem specifically for Lady Raktima Roy. She was seen looking at the escalator with pure terror. After some heavy needling and cajoling she somehow stepped on the escalator [I pushed, ;-)] And then when the escalator reached the upper floor, she jumped off it. The jump has been variously analyzed as a leap of joy, relief, fear et cetera by the curious onlookers.

At food court, the group strolled around peeking at the food stalls and joking while effectively forgetting the real motive: Lunch. So we had to go without lunch and buy tickets for Valkyrie. The tickets purchasing ceremony passed without any remarkable incident.

While passing through the metal detectors we were frisked by those same guards who had barred us from going in before. Having nothing better to do, i made a face at them thus exposing the chewing gum.

"Sir, no chewing gum allowed."

Me and my big mouth. Or rather, me and my open mouth.

On entering, we found the hall surprisingly empty. But the ticket checker stoically told us that we were to sit at the allotted second row. We sat down obediently without any fuss or bother only to strike when the enemy wasn't looking. Five minutes into the film and we retreated to the fourth or fifth row.

The film, Valkyrie, was good. The acting was vivid and Tom Cruise as the lead managed to surprise us all. It was a far cry from his usual chocolate boy films. After an interesting but slow first half, the film rose to a truth revealing climax. For a more detailed account of the film please read the review by the man of all moments, Rohan Ghatak.

The ticket checker made another appearance and shooed us off to the second row again, explaining that we needed to pay more to sit in the fifth row. We nodded solemnly to clarify that we understood and came back to the fifth row after he left. Simple and effective.

After valkyrie, Roro and Prithviraj left immediately, one sighting mummy problems while other had to meet someone. So the remaining six sighted hunger problems and decided to lunch. Kaustuv lead the way to Hong-Kong, a restaurant located a few hundred meters down the Prince Anwar Shah road.

A side issue, but i might as well mention it. It came to light that Kaustuv's brother, Krishnayan goes to school in the same carpool as my cousin brother. It will be sufficient to say that whatever i learnt is enough to give my brother sleepless nights.

At hong-Kong, as the name suggests, they serve Chinese food. However Rohan departed early saying that the "British Council" excuse he was banking on, wasn't so bankable after all.

And so after gorging on some Indianised Chinese delicacies, we paid the bill. I mean, i am just clarifying, plenty of people don't. We were(and still are) decent.

Once out, we began haggling with our parents to let us stay longer. There was this two feet high wall just at the entrance of Hong-Kong. I sat down on the wall feeling too full. No one noticed but i suddenly tilted backwards. I would have fallen if it weren't for my death like grip on the top of the wall. I hastily climbed down, thanking my lucky stars.

So, imagine my surprise when the following events unfolded, almost like an action replay. Raktima jumped on the wall and began swinging. And then she toppled backwards losing her balance. She grasped Anwesha's arm for support but in a flash, both of them crashed on the floor amidst a confusion of head and limbs.

So, in spite of having a supreme command over physics, mistakes in calculation of Centre of Gravity can happen.

Extremely put out with us boys who laughed at her fall, Miss Raktima and Miss Deyasini decided to go for a walk through the lanes and by-lanes in that area. Trying to take a photograph, Kaustuv managed to step on some world-class cat shit. Then there was this old man who had taken an apparent liking to Anwesha. I wasn't present during the entire episode, but when i went to see what he was up to, i found that he was advising Kaustuv's 10 year old brother on how to marry and live happily ever after. A jewel of a man, for sure. After the photo shoot, we decided to head home. Home as in anyone's home, not necessarily our own home as in Raktima's case who went to Deyasini's home.

Kaustuv, Anwesha and Krishnayan took a cab and vanished into oblivion(actually i don't know where they went, hence the vague sense of direction) while the rest of us walked to Jadavpur Thana and dispersed.

From there on I continued my adventure alone. I met Ankan da who told me exactly how difficult the Joint Entrances were. I met a stray canine that nipped at my ankle and I met a Bus conductor who asked me the fare to my place. I was unexpectedly, stupidly honest.

And i reached home in one piece. So thats how a glorious 16th came to end.



N.B: Hey people, did you know that the food at Honk-kong didn't make friends with my Alimentary system?

"Absolutely no recreation..."

"Why?" i demanded.
"He might want to see you." said Dad.
"Why?" I demanded.
"To see if you are good enough." replied dad.
"Why?" I demanded yet again.
"Excuse me?"
"Why?" i asked.
"Rick! Will you pull out those earphones?!"
"Oh gee..."

And i was on my way to Subhojit Sir's tuition. I told Dad to chose the physics teacher with great care, one hears some worrying stories about people hopping from place to place, from teacher to teacher and still not satisfied. So one needs to be careful.

When narrating a story i must stick to the main story. Digression, though wonderful in the eyes of the author, tends to be boring for the not so enthusiastic reader. So i cleverly leave out the stories of the "grocery man's deception", the "xerox man's spot" and of course, the one that i can never forget-"missing Rick".

After a most eventful journey we reached the building where this celebrity of a teacher preached physics. All the grocery shops that i had seen along the way knew him. I, being the most incurious and innocent type, attributed all this to his fledgling fame.

We reached at a quarter to seven. From a quarter to seven to a quarter to eight, on being contacted five times, sir announced that he would be there in fifteen minutes every time. I made a mental note to synchronise my watch with this guy, he sounded my type.

After making the mistake of wishing a good evening to a guardian and earning smiles of appreciation from everybody, i had just begun to make myself home, when sir entered at 8 and i hastily put away my mobile and earphones and assumed an expression appropriate for the occasion.

My first impression of the guy was that he is somehow related to P.C.Sorcar. The similarities are striking. My second impression was also that he was related to P.C.Sorcar. He talks too much and doesn't like to be interrupted. However the similarities stopped right there. Thankfully. Physics and magic, served on the same plate taste atrocious. At least in theory they do.

"I have a philosophy- All that really matters is a student's sincerity." he began. To this i could think of a hundred sarcastic replies which have become so common that i decided to let the statement pass unopposed.

"All these students are running after FIIT-JEE, Brilliant, Resonance, but they don't stop to think. Who actually gains? They teach for profit, while I teach..." All too predictable. I silently watched him, my face reflecting shinning respect. The guy had red hair. Red stands for danger. Then i noticed it was orange.

"It is my belief that parents shouldn't ask their wards to go for any particular target. Every student, by the time he is halfway through class 11, begins to have an idea. He begins to know his limits, his strength, his potential and he can make his own targets."

I smiled cheerfully at dad and mouthed "See See,I told ya!" But my happiness, as always, was short lived.

"Students need to study at least 6-7 hours apart from school. In class 11-12 there's no time for recreation." he declared vindictively. Funnily enough, he was looking at me. That killed me. Dad looked at me with a most pseudo-benevolent expression. In fact since i was the only student, a lot of other guardian looked at me to gauge my reaction. I looked away pointedly.

"Ho ho, i compared you with my daughter and her reaction would have been quite similar..ho ho.." smiled a man.

Another uncle nudged his wife and pointed towards me and all of them smiled understandingly. Correction/Conclusion: They thought they understood.

"First class is on 1st April" he barked at the parents of the HS students.

"Not a hoax i hope, sir?" I said.

He looked at me uncomprehendingly. Then he smiled.

"No, i hope its not an April Fool."

A murmur of laughter followed this.

Then he distributed a sheet with "Rules and Regulation" written in bold at the very top. And my hopes of an informal atmosphere sank without any conspicuous bubbles.

"Test in the last week of every month." Thats the highlight. The highlight that induced lowlight in my heart.

At this point the interaction was disrupted by a woman who was requesting sir to change her daughter's batch pointlessly.

My dad snatched the opportunity.

"See, son, the time has come. Your celebrations end today. From tomorrow you are not..."

"Mom! Dad's starting again!" i said, partly indignant, partly apprehensive.

Dad stopped prudently. Me and Mom together are formidable opponents.

Sir stopped with a lecture on how he plans to teach throughout the year and other stuffs of considerably lesser interest. So that's it. Another countdown begins. The countdown to the rush.

16 days till 1st April. 15 days to be accurate, its 12:00.

Yesterday's newspaper.

Forrest Gump. Rohan, although i agreed with you before, i must expostulate now. In my opinion, the film did connect emotionally. The acting was, of course, just what to be expected from Tom Hanks, but the storyline too was an unusually beautiful one.

I played pool and guess what? i lost to a couple of strangers! Well, it came down to that shot of mine before which both me and Ratul were doing rather well. And then i fouled. Crap! We lost. And er, a small excuse is that it was my second day at pool, i did play quite well actually, in case you were thinking i was hopeless at it. That wouldn't go down too well with my ego.

I fisnished "Anything for you ma'm" by Tushar Raheja. An interesting, funny book. It talks about simple normal things, but the way it talks about the simple normal things is the factor that appeals to me. Definitely a nice read.

Thats about that folks, nothing of interest in my life presently but its just a matter of time before i am back in form, living up to my reputation of being a weirdo!

An ode to all those things that confuse a teenager's vulnerable mind.

I was reading my own blogs for a change. Amazingly enough, i found out new things. Why are some things just so strange? "Incongruous" fits well here.

I love to repeat this and with good reason: "I have time" With a burst of intelligence and creativity quite unexpected of me, i decided to wallow in some deep contemplation, you know, transcendental ideas.(i don't exactly know the meaning, but there, i was thinking along those lines.) And i felt lightheaded after the hour which spent thinking.(pig-headed is another probable explanation but i prefer light headed for purely personal reasons.)

Sometimes i get so absorbed in fiction that i begin to confuse my facts and the other times i get so absorbed in facts that i forget that theres something beyond facts. And hence i shuttle back and forth and thats basically the way i do things. And i don't do all that well but not all that path either.

Some people can write short stories that strike a chord, the stories aren't necessarily extraordinary, its the idea, the little nuances that make them original and hence less/more than ordinary. No, i am not showing of my inside knowledge or expertise about the topic but i just realised these and i feel i want to write it all down.My Blog page looks happy and chirpy with calvin all over it so thats where i decided to write.

Some say that seeing is believing. Some say that seeing is not necessarily believing. Some say that even not seeing is sometimes believing. Now, i know i am quoting all of these out of context but i... it strikes me as weird. Confusingly weird. Exasperatingly weird. You get the message.

Another thing, isn't whatever we write basically plagiarism? Nothing wrong with me, but i just had this idea, stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.

The Wall-E track "down to earth" evokes complex thoughts and feelings.

Isn't there a subtle difference between "pensive" and "ruminative"? Thought so.

I cant believe Einstein was the first one to propose the theory of relativity. I think its impossible no one did it earlier. Its all relative!

And is there any real reason behind the existence of the word "inevitable" in the dictionary?

The word magical contains seven letters. How come i never noticed it before, hm?
It is magically confusing!

All of the statements above are interrelated. I know that much but how or why, i have no idea. I don't expect anyone to relate to this blog, its impossible. Period. Its just so confusing. But then...*grin*-

"Alls well that ends well"

"did u think, u were tricked?
By the future u picked?"
.............Theres something in those lines...
(i am not being really sincere to the lyrics but, it isn't likely to harm anybody is it?)

Decadence. (I honestly didnt find any relation between the title and the post but then, thats the point.)

I want to write a long long blog post. Yes, inspite of those invariable "sighs!" and "oofs!" and "oh dear"s i will write. It will involve a lot of digression of course, since when has "to the point" been my forte,huh? It was written umpteen number of times in those little white sheets that i smeared with inscrutable shit(for want of a better word)for the past few days but i efficiently ignored it each and every time. And so, coming back to the point(what point? very intelligent question indeed, but most good writers do so, to create an atmosphere of relative importance) i want to write a long long post.

What is the essence of a long post?- My analytical mind asks me. The essence of a long post is the length, my analytical mind tells me. I decide to put my mind to rest, temporary shut down. Permanent shut down wont be preferable for the greater good, what will the world do without me? its not like Subhas Chandra is still around to look after things. So temporary shut down. Now, begins the mindless talk. (As you can see my mindful talk is the quintessence of excitement, if all this excitement is enough for you, take my advice and check out the next blog. The following part will be too exciting for you. I know what this feels like, i had to proof read this thing.)

1. Amitava Ghosh writes really well. But i dont know the meaning of importuning. So i wont read Amitava Ghosh now, the dictionary is five steps away. FIVE STEPS. Too much work, literally as well as mechanically.

2. Forest Gump is an excellent movie but Dad is sitting in my room playing his part in a "man to man" talk. He is turning too serious for my liking. And forest Gump is er, not so watchable in front of dad.

3. Three friends gave me their opinions on the guitar that i should buy. That was just what i needed to decide. Now i have a most clear cut idea. Three clear cut idea(s) to be precise. Even my mindless brain tells me that its "back to square one".

4. The thing about maths is that one needs to have brains to do it. Limit of hindsight, wont you agree?

5. The thing about fun is one just needs to take out the time and have it. I dont care whether you agree or not, I am in the mood for some drastic fun. Drastic insensible fun.

-On the verge of madness.(this is a metaphor, mind, it doesn't mean what it means.)

He-He!

19 DAYS to go.
Mum is making me eat 3 different kinds of pills. Dad brought home some mysterious looking syrup that is supposed to help rejuvenate my memory. It had Brahmi in it, if that means anything to you. Didn't mean anything to me except a terribly bitter taste.


Mum is taking extra precautions that a mosquito doesn't even get within a mile(er, meter) of me. She is industriously spraying my room with insect repellents as a result of which even i get repelled from my room.

She is telling me not to skid on the marble floor which i am exceptionally fond of. She forbade me from jumping on the bed the other day. Dad scolded me because i got a little excited in the terrace.

BUT,

I--

I climbed the water tank. The water tank is on the roof of the stairway that opens to the terrace. I had to maintain my balance on the railing, i was so happy to realise i didn't have vertigo. I climbed under the water tank, climbed on top of the water tank. Couldn't quite climbed into it because well, its the water tank. Why? Because i felt like climbing. Flawless reason, that.


There's a construction going on in front of our building. My crazy ball(very aptly named, i suddenly realised) took a beautiful dive from my window and straight into the green pool that contains god-knows-what in the corner of the construction site. My heart sank but the ball didn't. That inspired me.
Avoiding my mum with the stealth acquired as a result of centuries of practice(yea, i like exaggeration), i slipped out of the house. Scaling the wall, i stood in front of the pool, trying to decide the best course of action. I found a forlorn looking but sturdy bamboo(not in its popular metaphoric sense)beside the pool. Taking that bamboo i tried to poke the ball.
I did succeed in poking the ball but it was only after i poked the ball that i realised i shouldn't have. Me and hindsight. It just floated away from me, bobbing as if mocking my stupidity.
I moved ahead. Precariously balanced at the edge of the pool, i tried to pull the ball towards me. The ground near my foot began cracking and pieces of mud fell into the pool. I ignored it and went forward leaning dangerously. But my instincts worked with unexpected, sudden, welcome alacrity. The bamboo pole was approximately 10 foot long. I decided to check how deep the pool was. Just in case.
So, i took the bamboo and drove it vertically into the water and let it go. I never saw it again, it went straight in. Probably it was the bubbles or the disgusting green colour, but i lost interest in trying to retrieve the ball.


Its so rarely that i hear the "doog-doog" sound of the monkey-wallah that yesterday, when i heard it, i couldn't resist the urge to go out and take a look at the monkeys. They were friendly looking fellows making faces at every passer by. I returned the scowls with substantial interest. Now i admit it that i am not really adept at monkey language but apparently that particular monkey thought otherwise.
I made a remarkable face and some remarkably nonsensical noises. Apparently that meant something because the monkey took offence. It scratched my arm when i ventured too close. Mum said monkey scratches aren't dangerous. Phew!


Seen lizards up close? I did. This particularly brave one took a dip in my coffee. It died, poor fellah, but i would have followed suit if its treacherous tail didn't give it away.


I have a chip in my shoulder. Literally. It happened when i underestimated the height of the cupboard.It hurts, i tell you.


And i end with a piece of advice. Never SMS and make omlettes simultaneously. The probability of you coming out with a unburnt omlette and all limbs intact, is nil. I did that. But thankfully, i realised my folly early, just got a burnt forefinger. Left forefinger.

Kolkata.

Kolkata is claustrophobic. Kolkata is kaleidoscopic. Kolkata is beautiful. Kolkata is filthy. Kolkata has a culture. Kolkata is infamous. Kolkata has people. Kolkata has monsters. Kolkata has terrorists. Kolkata has saints. Kolkata has tress. Kolkata has smoke.Kolkata has me. Kolkata also has ______. Kolkata isn't perfect. That's why it is perfect.

^_^

Mood.

I was studying history. The fact isn't really relevant but i thought i would mention it anyway. The point is, i was studying history and was in an absolutely wonderful mood. My subconscious mind registered that a truck had pulled up in front of our building. It was full of stones, there's a building under construction right in front of ours. The men opened the latch that held the stones in the back of the track. The stones rushed out with that characteristic gravely sound, the delightful sound of flowing stone. The intensity of the sound decreased progressively till it was just a trickle, the trickle of a few rocks rolling out of the floor, almost reluctantly. And then, the sound of silence. How long did it last? 5 seconds? 7 seconds? It sounded uniquely refreshing. And it changed my mood.


Time cools, time clarifies; no mood can be maintained quite unaltered through the course of hours.--Mark twain.

Compulsively bloggable.

Theres a swooshing noise. Like that of a wind blowing through the branches of a tree none too gently. But only i can hear it. Because its all inside my head. No, its not a hair blower, its called "the mind in a whirl".

1. The cold caught me. No, i didn't catch the cold, it find it very silly that people say that i caught a cold. Why the madhs would i want to catch something that would give me a running nose? Morons.

2. My dad understands Chemistry. He remembers Who Babur's dad was, from some 35 year old knowledge. I told him to switch places, he gets to appear for the madhyamiks. He, of course, refused graciously.

3. My sister thinks i am taking too much pressure. I am itching to go back 4 years and show her what she was like before her madhyamiks. The less said about that, the better.(:-D) And the fact that she got a bleeding 99 in maths, yeah, tell me all about how you didn't work at all.

4. I think Physics is not my cup of tea. An excerpt from my answer script.
"The melting point of a liquid-"

5. I am fast becoming sure that i am always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like now.