The Window Seat

Paraya Dilli

2010-07-22T18:28:00.002+05:30

I've lived in Delhi for 18 years 5 months and 6 days now, which is to say all my life, and when the time to finally leave this place for college is due very soon, I feel I can view it with the eyes of an impersonal observer, detaching from the lens almost the kind of aching fondness a parent feels for a child. The tyke is spoilt and misbehaving, sure - but to not love him with all one's heart is unthinkable. On the other hand, an onlooker might think the child to be a lousy, indisciplined, tantrum-throwing faggot from all he's seen of him. And an onlooker's role is exactly what I'll don today.

The votes are in and the result is unanimous. Those whose who did not express any opinion were too darn busy with their lives to pay attention to any plebiscite. Delhi is a cold city.
The old saying 'Dilli Dilwaalon ki' seems to be a redundant expression now, employed rarely, if ever, that too only by radio jockeys who are payed to sound cheery and seem as if they're permanently boarded up on cloud #9.'Pathhar-dilwaale sounds more like it' exclaimed a friend of mine darkly when were talking about moving off to college. I was taken aback. I had never thought of it that way, but I realised I might have erred in my judgement of New Delhi as the best place to live. This realization proved to be an ominous warning in the next couple of days. The owner of a dhaba fiercely yelling at a boy who works him, an autowallah refusing a ride to an all too visibly limping old lady with an indifferent, almost lazy wave of the hand, grown men squabbling loudly, almost coming to blows in clinic queue (Relax morons, you're not gonna die of gingivitis or if you don't see the dentist within the next 5 minutes)- such is commonplace. And don't even get me started on road rage.

What comes to mind if you think of Delhi? The tasty street-food? Cute girls at North Campus? The Indian fashion capital? The capital of the Government of India? But what of Delhi's personality? Hmm. Cold. Selfish. Ruthless. What about the generosity and unity one associates with Mumbaikars, the amiability of the Kolkatans, the work-ethic of Chenaiites and the open-mindedness of Bangaloreans? Maybe it all seems that way because I've never lived in those places. But this city could still learn a lot from it's cousins. If there is a thing to be said about Delhi, it is that it teaches one how to survive. When to stand up and shout when you've been wronged. To get up from the ground, dust oneself and carry on. To deal with adversity head-on and to speak up for your rights. Because sometimes, if you don't take care of yourself, no one will. Everyone in this city is suspicious of everyone else and in all this suspicion, skepticism and self-centeredness compassion and bonhomie lose their way to the outward consciousness, words and actions. Come on Dilliwaalas, you can do better. Show your soft side. Be patient. Take time out from your self-bubble to help a stranger when such a situation presents itself, without hesitating. Smile. And watch New Delhi smile back.

College beckons, the bags are almost packed and my boat's about to set sail. i'll miss you Delhi, you beautiful twisted city.

If

2009-08-15T12:56:00.003+05:30

*The poem 'If' goes like this - If you can dream and not make dreams your master/ If you can think and not make thoughts your aim/ If you can meet with triumph and disaster/ And treat those two impostors just the same/ If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken/ Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,/ Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,/ And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools.
You'll be man, my son. Master of you're own destiny, someone who's independent and stands up for what's right
*I remember reading a quote "It's better to die on your feet than live on your knees"
*After the (phenomenal) Puffin Quiz on Thursday, I came home to watch 'Rang De Basanti' on cable. That is one film that never fails to give me goosebumps. In fact the first time I saw it, I cried.
*Today is India's 63rd Independence Day.

All this just looks like vaguely related bits of information like a collage of newspaper headlines - their only claim to oneness is that they were all printed together in the morning paper. So what's the connecting link between the bits I mentioned at the start of the post. It's the fact that I'm a coward. Not that I haven't done foolhardy or ostensibly brave acts. I've had a large share of them and that's not what I'm talking about. What I mean is standing up for someone or something that's right. Standing up against injustices and atrocities. Extending a hand of solidarity to the oppressed as a way of saying 'Hey man, I'm with you'. I envy some people for doing just that like dad, my brother, mom and plenty of my friends. Utkarsha on Thursday was about to tell off a guy who yelled at us to stand in a line when we were to go into the Siri fort Auditorium for the quiz. I was the one who put a hand to his shoulder and said 'Let it pass, man. We don't want a scene here.' Now that I think about it - What is a scene exactly? A Commotion? A tantrum? Any act in a public place which invites attention to it by virtue of its improperness? Yeah that's it. And sometimes that's what's really needed. What if I hadn't stopped Utkarsha and had let him tell off the guy for speak impolitely? Many more who had the same thought on their minds would have spoken out too. The man might have realized his mistake and treated people better in the future. but that didn't happen. For all i know, the guy might be yelling at someone this very moment, not caring how he feels.

This independence day, we're having lovely weather - a quiet cool drizzle and a light breezy morning. As I stand outside in the beautiful weather, thinking that I should be at my cousin's place today flying kites like last year, another thought follows. I take an oath - To stand up for what I believe in, in any situation, no matter what. I also thought up the LIFE quote for August. It's a little harsh but that's how I feel right now -

"Stoicism is just a glorified term used to refer to the slow painful defeat of unassertive fools."

Happy Independence Day to all. Take an oath today to be the best you can be - for yourself, the country and your world.

On a lighter note - A word, Timothy

1313

2009-08-02T22:35:00.002+05:30

Another post in bullets. There's a lot of stuff happening which I want to write about, none so important so as to overshadow the rest and deserving of an entire post for itself. So I'll start now.

1> For all those who read my last post, you know that it was about talking to oneself and how it's (unsurprisingly) perceived to be rather weird by them normal folks. Well, have you heard of Wondermark? It's a pretty cool webcomic (nothing phenomenal but good) and today I found something pertaining to that theme in my previous post (for the one's who missed it, get to it. Nao.)

Also, I found a great song also fitting perfectly to that idea - It's Crazy by Gnarls Barkley. The vid's good fun too, inspired by the symmetrical inkblot shapes of the Rorschach inkblot test (a projective technique used to bring out unconscious emotions and desires out into the consciousness. Just saying). Here it is, you'll love it if you're anything like me.

2> Heard of the film 13 Tzameti? It's the French noir film on which Luck is supposed to be based. Loosely, according to the director. I saw a snippet of the original film some weeks ago on CNN-IBN's movie review show hosted by Rajeev Masand - The scene was in black and white, with a group of men standing in a circle in an ill-lit room. Each has a gun in his hands pointed at the temple of the person standing next to him. And then, everyone pulls the trigger simultaneously; and as the shots sound, the screen goes dark. Like Group Russian roulette. *
Now that I've seen that, I have to watch the movie. I've already read the wikipedia article, though it doesn't matter much (though it does a bit because there's a twist in the end).

* I remember having done something like that. Five of my friends and me held hands and the guys at the ends each held a part of a prank clamshell mobile phone which delivers shocks to anyone who opens it. I remember the tension and the consequential shock. It was electric (bad pun, i know).

3> Seen that rediff.com ad? The one with the singing rubber duckie and them anthropomorphized dancing objects. Yeah with that funny curly-haired guy, that's the one. Love that background song. I found out that its an actual song and not just made for the ad (like in the Fiat Linea 'stuck' ad). Anyway the song is a tweaked version of Your love keeps liftin me (higher and higher) by Jackie Wilson. Listen to the full song if you want to. Really energising and positive lyrics, I give it that.

4> Internet deviations have always welcomed bored and wandering surfers with open arms, promising hours of lols. Me included. But bro disapproves. Somehow he seems to think its inappropriate and immature for me to laugh (continuously for 2 minutes approximately) at something like this -

Now c'mon. How can you not find that funny? It's not that I'm dumb or immature or something but its the juxtaposition of images or perfect captions for some pictures which tickles my funny bone, probably you could call me someone who laughs at all kinds of stuff without thinking about what others would think of me.
Above picture sourced from comixed.com

5> I participated in both the MOD quiz and DPS Noida's Dip Pulse (Not a very good name, especially if you say it fast enough). Didn't win either (got frustratingly laughably close to respectable finishes both times) but I really learnt a lot. Expands my mind and supplements my small talk ('My brother just bought a new watch'
'Is it a Rolex?'
'Hell n-'
'You know, the only digital Rolex ever produced is the timekeeper Rolex in the Wimbledon centre court'
'O really? Wow. I didn't know.'
'Now you do'*smirk*)
Neither did I a few days ago. Well I saw Anuj at both places and Ankur at the MOD quiz. Ankur was like I'd imagined him - brisk, serious and busy. But I thought he'd possess a more forceful and commanding voice. Btw, I think gyaan.in is a very very useful information portal, if nothing else.

6> Have been reading Paulo Coelho's new one The Winner Stands Alone for almost a month now, reading in short stints of 5 minutes on average whenever I get the time. Philosophical at most times, eye-droopingly boring at others, but it's impressively interspersed with streaks of well-organized brilliant prose.

7> Mid-semester exams are now over, and don't worry i won't give you an inferiority complex by posting my marks this time (just kidding, Ani would infact get something of the opposite). But I've improved in everything (except English. No comment.), thanks to listening in class and of course Halliday Resnick and Walker.

8> Twist in the tale stories have always been my faves. That's something which attributes Roald Dahl's macabre short stories to the exclusive list. That is one reason I think the Perry Bible Fellowship is a phenomenal webcomic. You can never guess how's it going to end with the last panel. A nice, suitable and immensely satisfying twist, I say, is what every novel needs.

Honouring tradition

2009-07-10T22:04:00.003+05:30

As my brother put it, mid exam posts are almost always the tradition with student bloggers. Even if I haven't written a post in a month during vacations with all sorts of ideas running through my head, nothing beats the nudging compulsion to write a post during exam time (especially when you're bang in the middle of it) and you really have no inkling whatsoever on what to write.

I'm over with 2 exams and there are still three big ones left to go. All back-to-back; so this is the only time I have to write and check comments. The days now are packed with school, Aakash, studying at home and extra tuition top it all off. Walking to tuition takes up much of time but since I've never minded walking it's alright. Today a funny thing happened on my way over there. Walking on the street on a busy afternoon, I passed a bunch of people standing near a shop. Nothing strange about that, save for the fact that they were staring at me. I wondered why and walked on .
Then. To my slight embarrassment and a 'what is up with me?!' moment later, I realised that I had been talking to myself. Murmuring to myself whatever I was thinking. A soliloquy like one sees in romantic theatrical performances. Hastily in order to put right the situation, I reached my far hand (in the the side opposite to where they were standing) towards my ear and started speaking even more loudly. They must've thought I was talking to someone loudly on a mobile or something in a crowded street. Heheh. Fortunately acting like loud moron is considered normal. I think I almost saw one guy's hand withdrawing from his trouser pocket. Reaching for his phone to dial the nearest hospital, I figure.
So I've put up a poll, this is actually something I've been wondering for quite a lot of time.

Q. Do talk to yourself?

1> Yeah, whenever I'm alone or free.
2> Occassionally, unconsciously
3> Only when I feel like hearing myself say something.
4> The answer is No, I'm not a nutcase.

I'll have the poll open for a few weeks so that I get maximum responses.

Ok then, I'm off for now, back to The Molecular basis of Inheritance, I'm afraid.

Ideal

2009-07-01T20:51:00.006+05:30

An ideal post, according to the Big Book of Everything, should be a melange of ideas, with a lot of bullets, some bits about your life, a few pj's, a nice quote, some poetry, all rounded off with a good song suggestion. Today, I am going to vie for that perfect post.

Well then, I'm at my fag end of my summer holidays and I'm not proud to say I haven't done anything at all. Except maybe for my having taken up squash and my new love for 12th class physics courtesy the three fantastic gents Mr Halliday, Mr Resnick and Mr Walker who wrote one very interesting book Fundamentals of Physics. Other than that I've watched a whole lot of movies; I just watched The Hangover today, no review, I'm not an expert critic :P. But let's just say it was a very engaging movie with a couple of real good laughs. Anyway the weather is great. I've changed my mind about summer being my fave season. It's summer in winters and winters in summers and monsoon for the rest of the year. I've also taken up games on facebook - Mafia Wars and Cube Field both highly addictive and extremely time consuming. Also I watched almost every A Bit of Fry and Laurie sketch there is on youtube. Pure british Comedy. Watch it or you'll be missing something good.

In my free time I've made pj's(poor jokes) and p + ij's (complex pj's; thus represented because It's Really poor and the joke part is pretty much imaginary). Here's some which I made on my way to tuition one day-

Q. The Liver said something funny and everyone but the skin laughed. Why?
A. Because it was an inside joke.

This next one is strictly for Biology people -
Q. Why is Lycopodium a party animal?
A. Because it's a club moss.
HaHa, there we can be funny too.. Oh well, it's not that great. But at least we're funnier than engineers.

Q. Why did the SMS go to the party with a saucepan on his head?
A. because nobody used Caps anymore.

Ok this is the last one. Don't cry. I know,I know these jokes are AWESOME - But that's how life is, all Awesome things come to an end.
Q. Why was the mountaineer annoyed with his maps?
A. Because they were not to scale.

It's the first time I've missed the life quote of the month but since I'm just a day late, I guess I can be forgiven.

Doing nothing takes a lot of time.

That's included in the definition of summer holidays for most people including me. Poetry time now, I think, here is a poem which wasn't written with anyone in mind. I wrote it for a friend who needed something of this kind and then he didn't use it because his nerve failed. Well I couldn't help him with that. Anyway here it is -

In Words

Love has no mercy
Love has no cure
Love has no limit
Love like mine so pure

With each passing day
And with each moment trickling by
My growing love brightens
Yet, each day I resign with a sigh

I feel you presence all the time
I take your name in every breath
I see you image through the day
My love is deep, the ocean's depth

My passion can no longer rest
in my heart alone
The truth I have been putting off
overflows, cannot be postponed

Mere words cannot begin to tell
My heart's burning desire
Love stronger than I ever felt before,
it blazes like a wildfire

For someone who had aided me
when I had lost all sense
It's someone who remained a friend
in times so troubled and tense

My time has come
I'm sure i can't wait any longer
My love lays before you -
Purer , Deeper , Stronger.

Not so good, by own standards I think.

The ideal post nears an end with this fantastic song...It's Shiver by Coldplay.

Ok so, that's pretty much everything folks.

2009-05-31T21:03:00.003+05:30

May almost managed to evade me but I got it in the end.

The pending lqotm was the only thing that drew me towards my blog. Now as I've sat down to write there's an unnatural energy coursing through my veins (supplemented well by the song On Fire by Switchfoot playing right now on wmplayer) which directs me to write a proper sized post this very instant. The only hitch is that I've nothing in mind on which to write about.

So this is awkward.

Well my bro's here again from his last semester at BITS and he's got all the media and software that can be squeezed into his ext hardrive. A lot many movies too, of which I've seen a few, the notable ones being The Last king of Scotland, Kung-fu Panda, Pulp fiction, Mithya and The Number 23. I really wanted a few more stuff. If you've got any of these, please tell me -

1> Star Wars battlefront (PC game)
2> Back to the future 3 (movie)
3> Drillbit Taylor (movie)
4> Taxi Driver (1976 film)
5> House MD (TV Series)
6> Flight of the Conchords (TV Series)
7> Adobe Photoshop (software)

...because my brothers not going back now as his last year is an out-of-college internship, so no more LAN downloads.

Well now back to life. I used to think once the hols started, I'd be blogging even more frequently than before like maybe twice a week, but the reverse was true strangely.
Not very strange once I figured out the logic behind the fact - When it's not summer vacation, blogging seems like a respite, a breath of fresh air; but when it is vacation time, in the period of a hot lazy day, writing a post seems like a gigantic task.
Aakash is going good, if anyone wants to know....
Now what? I can't write a poem now. I've got a few poems with me now though they aren't so good and worthy of publishing (all but one, which is very good but too long for now).

Now for the lqotm, for those who can't wait to get it over with (like me) -

"When it starts to infiltrate your dreams and your art, you know it's something serious"

Don't dismiss it as philosophical mumbo-jumbo, think about it. Better still - sleep on it. Maybe it might creep up into your dreams.

agta

2009-05-26T19:10:00.002+05:30

I should really write a post, now.

Well since i'm here, congrats to ani, ravi and aditi on their flowery appointee titles and all that.

that's that, i think.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILKqSrTcx7Q&feature=related

I think therefore it is

2009-05-05T15:52:00.002+05:30

Futile measures

If I close my eyes
will this not be?
If I don't complain
will it be good for me?
If I turn away
will the massacre stop?
If I look to console
won't the hatchet still drop?
If I try and conceal
would there have been no loss?
If I argue well
would the war have had a cause?
If I try not to feel
would I be dead?
If I paint a lovely picture
would there be peace instead?

All I could get out of today's psychology class. The entire thing written in record time - 49 seconds flat! So flat that all 49 seem like fifths.

There's a pun there, mind you. Don't trip over it.

Listless

2009-04-25T22:12:00.003+05:30

It's all ok. Seriously..

So man, you're not here anymore.
Now my heart feels heavy and body seems sore
I tried not to cry and be a man
But that didn't go according to plan.

I thought of your jokes and that rascal smile
with your face in my mind all the while
...
From the memory of our fantastic friendship I learnt,
Now is precious , time shan't be burnt.

- To an unforgettable friend
(10 February 1992 to 20 April 2009)

just as a tribute, not as an advertisement. The very least I can do.

I'll appreciate it if there are NO comments asking what this is about.

PS - I just saw your mail Ankur, will reply as soon as I can, thanks.

Clogged

2009-04-17T20:24:00.004+05:30

The reason I started polls on this blog is not merely because it becomes an interesting deviation for some readers, but also because I can learn about the people in general, based on the kind of choices they make.
For a long time now, I've been having this nagging suspicion in the back of my mind that people aren't always what I've previously judged them to be. Probably my entire perspective on human thought and behaviour lies on a flawed foundation. What I infer from observing them, hearing them talk, seeing them talking to others, their facial features, their body language, their expressions right after they complete a task...probably it's all just hot air. Just weird theories with no real proof, I fear.

Well now that the first poll is closed, the interpretation begins. None of the options really appealed to me, to tell the truth. Half the respondents chose the first, which was 'More attractive..' I think it's because (I think - that's the keyword here. I can't be sure) this is a rather skewed audience I have, being bloggers and all. Probably they feel mindly matters are their strong points and somewhere deep down are dissatisfied with their outward appearance.
'Neither' - No one chose that. It's not an option nobody would ever choose. Someone with an overbearing and domineering character would; and again, being bloggers, blogging something still quite new to society, it's is something that comparatively more docile and mild-mannered people would take to.
Again I'd like to stress on the fact that these are just assumptions, without anything to support them except for some quite convoluted theories, if I say so myself.

I'll get the lqotm over earlier in the month so I don't have to worry about it later.
Here it is -

"It's easy to tell your deepest secrets to someone you hardly know
because you know that they wouldn't care to use it against you and can't change any impression they already have of you."

Like this young man who sat opposite to me in one 764 route low-floor bus with that annoying seat arrangement which forces people to face each other. 'I don't love her.' The strapping Sikh man spoke suddenly pointing to his wife sleeping soundly on the seat next to his. 'I love someone at work. Next week I'm going to leave her, this forced marriage, my family and everything behind and run away.'. I didn't know what to say or even if I was expected to say something. 'Baby, stop aagaya' he said getting up and a quick smile and Sastriyakaal later, he got off as if nothing had even happened.

PS - Thanks Ankur, but it didn't work. I couldn't find the code you mentioned, maybe I'm the most computer illiterate guy working a blog and we can't fix that right away. But I appreciate your help nevertheless.

PPS - You've got it wrong AV, there aren't two posts for prez of school publications. There isn't even one according to some new arrangement, something that shattered my spirits earlier in the day. Write apost to cheer me up.

New poll

2009-04-09T21:16:00.002+05:30

Question - Would you rather that your soulmate/life partner was...

By the way, I'm sorry I can't do anything about the fact that you need to highlight the poll to get the options. If anyone knows how to correct it, comment with your suggestion please.

Mamihlapinatapai

2009-04-09T21:00:00.003+05:30

My fortieth post, this. I've certainly come a long way now. And being such a good occasion, I'm going to write down a small poem, something I haven't done in a quite a while sometime. Don't worry it's just four lines long, not like those 20 stanza behemoths. All in honour of the most succinct and hardest to translate word as listed in the Guinness Book of World Records.
Taken from the Yaghan language of Tierra del Fuego, somewhere in South America, Mamihlapinatapai is defined as "look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start."

Or maybe something like "eye contact implying ‘after you…’"

One thing I really like about Wikipedia is how one article leads to another. I started with 'Palliative Care' and this is how it went -
Palliative Care > Morphine > Addiction > Cold Turkey > Barbiturate > Nazi Germany > Johann Dick > Dick Tracy > Comic Strip > Comics > Asterix and Obelix > English translations of Asterix > Anthea Bell > Translation > Lexical gap > Untranslatability > Mamihlapinatapai.

Whew.

A better explanation of this, courtesy XKCD -

Well now back to the poem. This same term (mamihlapinatapai) can be used to describe the state of affairs for a number of different situations. Say a Cold War. Or a just before a melee begins and the opponents are cautiously moving around in a circle. But what sprang into my mind just as I read the article was Love. So I chose Love over Hate, like Rahman; Heck before I even know it, I'll have an Oscar or two in my kitty.

Finally after so many digressions, here it is -

Mamihlapinatapai

In a flurry of movement, we caught each others eyes
And before we could turn our gazes,
We caught the shadows of smiles too.
Life never ceased to amaze us.

There it is, hope you like it. :D

PS - Readers have given a positive feedback to the template, giving no unfavourable votes. Thus it stays. It's not like I was going to change it anyway.

PPS - Someone had complained that the text for the posts is too small to read. Here's a neat little trick my brother told me about - open the webpage and press the [control] and [+/=] buttons together. (Pardon me all you High Priests of tech and internet if you don't find it neat. A revelation, surely, for me - first time I tried, I went like 'Wow! The internet does that!?')

Widget-Like

2009-04-05T18:19:00.006+05:30

That's what the name of this new template is. How do you like it? Or rather why do you not like it? I'll put up this question for my first poll to have the opinions in the form of statistics, but be assured all the subsequent polls won't be as mundane as this first one.

I had no idea changing templates was such a difficult task, it's amazing how MS and Pulzkit manage to do it so often. It's like I change my profile image everytime I write a post and they change their templates everytime they do. It took me over 3 hours to get everything done and sorted. But with that I'm halfway through my New Year resolutions (TOEFL and template both down) now.

Well that's it now. I'll think you'll like this song I have here. It's a great song and a very well made video. Coldplay's Life in Technicolor from their latest album Viva La Vida.

Cool wasn't it? (Irrespective of whether you did see it or not, the answer must be in the affirmative)

Intolerance

2009-03-31T19:59:00.000+05:30

The theme has been in my mind for a few days now, but I got the quote in a flash of insight while coming back from school by auto with friend (or rather friends) Chinmay.
Here it is, completely unrevised, primarily because I didn't get anything better than the original.

"The greatest mental agony a person can be subject to is having a secret
gnawing at his heart which he can't tell a soul"

Preferrably dark and involving clandestine liaisons. Justs so it hurts more.

idunno

2009-03-25T20:31:00.000+05:30

Well. Taking hints from Ani and Espera I think I'll write this post in the form of points. Its a nice way to write stuff, especially when you have hordes of unconnected stuff you want to vomit out all at once without dwelling on one topic for too long. Also it helps to score better on answers in Bio.

1> Am a twelthy. Finally. Got the nod from the teacher after giving the Physics retest cos I was absent this time too. The physics teacher asked me why I was absent. 'I was ill' my regular excuse for most things ranging from not having eaten my lunch to sleeping in coaching.'Somehow physics always seems to make you ill.', the reply. You know, she may be on to something.
It's a nice feeling, being in twelfth and all (although..You know). As a friend put it - "We rule the school now". Dunno about that, but it does give you an almost tangible sense of power.

2> Have really taken to the song 'Pyaar ki Dastaan' from the movie Luck By Chance. Not really catchy but the first time I heard it, I thought it was beautiful.

3> Prostalgia. Yes, that's what I'll call this feeling (see last post). That's another word I've coined, now. Brings the tally upto a splendid 2.

4> I've thought a great deal about it. I've almost decided what I'm going to say when it happens. I've even picked out the right haircut for the occasion.
I'm talking about giving a shot at the school council positions this year. School Publications and Chenab house. Never having done it before, the interview used to freak me out. But now it's (gulp) all cool.

5> I think I'll start a new gadget for this blog. Polls.

6> Something needs to be done about the school's alumni society. I heard that it's almost defunct (notice how that rhymes with de-funked? Pardon me for that). It has to be revamped, reinvented. I don't want to be that sad little man who's searching the internet and social network sites for all his school friends he's lost contact with. I think registration should be made compulsory, open and more student friendly. What say, anybody with me?

7> Checked my BMI after I read one of Espera's posts. Decent really - 20.2.

8> My hair is, at the moment the best it's ever been. Not too short, neither too long and rather wavy.

9> I've decided to get rid of my all-too-noticeable moustache sometime soon. It takes the attention away from my nose (which is, I think, rather purdy) and people stare me as if there's a dead caterpillar on my upper lip.

10> Discovered all episodes of Jeeves and Wooster on youtube, which in turn led me to find the A bit of Fry and Laurie series as well. See them if they suit you. Search "Lauriefan 109" on youtube.

11> AV has strted blogging! Check out http://sights-sounds-thoughts.blogspot.com/

Well I'll be back next time with the LQOTM.

The Cure for Insomnia

2009-03-12T13:31:00.000+05:30

Though I've just passed 11th standard and have a whole year ahead of me in school, I can't help but muse about the farewell. What I feel can be described as a goulash of regret and pseudo-nostalgia about the inevitability of it all. There must be a word for it because it's such a common feeling, atleast it is for me. It's sort of like nostalgia about the future or things that haven't yet finished. Like wasting your life by worrying about death. Pointless, but hard to push back.

Last night, I made up a dialogue of sorts,lying in my bed not feeling sleepy enough to nod off. You may draw any kind of inference you wish to, but it's better if you don't and just well, try to live it.

BOY: (walking upto GIRL, throwing his best smile) Would you care to walk with me?

GIRL: Uh-uh, okay.

BOY: The Farewell. Usually a depressing occasion isn't it?

GIRL: ...

BOY: (waving his glass in the general direction of the school building) The institution. Friends. Teachers. Gonna miss it all. Gonna regret things you never did. Regert things you never said. Is there something you'll regret that you never did?

GIRL: ahhh...

BOY: Well, there is something of that kind for me.

GIRL: What?

BOY: I know this is the worst time to do it, this being the farewell and all; But I just have to do it, you know?
Listen.I've had a crush on you for like 4 years and well, I could never tell you because (throws up hands in the air) I don't know.Well, I've said it now and you have four general options before you.
(walking around the girl in a very dramatic manner) Option A is 'I hate and you I never want to see you again, go drown yourself'

GIRL: (laughs)

BOY: Well then (laughs). Option B is 'I like you but I don't think it'll work between us'
Now option C is 'I've always loved you and now I love you even more and can't wait to throw myself into your open arms'. Remember that's option C.
(still walking) And option D is 'I think I need some time to think this over. Talk to me in a week'

GIRL: ....

BOY: So?

GIRL: This is so awkward.. Well I'll have to say, option

She could either make it rhyme or make it lyrical.

I stopped thinking after that. The result doesn't matter really. What matters is the boy got that off his chest.

Don't ponder over that much. It's drivel. Instead listen to the nice, jumpy and optimistic song 'New Shoes' by Paolo Nutini.

busy.

2009-02-21T11:21:00.000+05:30

Cliched title but it holds good around this time of year for me.

I've got another Life quote, now -

Procrastination gets the housework done.

Rings true especially during the exam season (my least favourite season, followed closely by winter).
All you velaas (jobless people : read the ones without exams) out there, here are some links you should really explore (non-velaa people shoo). They're music vids of the band Goldspot which has an Indian frontman Siddhartha Khosla. The lyrics aren't really awesome but the music's really catchy and lively. I've been humming the tune for a days now -

Friday
Friday in Hindi (hey I told you he was Indian)

If you're velaa enough, you could check out some more great songs like Paper boats, Rewind, Time Bomb, Haath mein le lenge, Muse and It's Getting Old by the same band.

Well.
See you sometime later then.

Not an advertisement

2009-02-16T15:15:00.001+05:30

Abhinav Menon UnLtd.
Since 1992
17 Glorious Years

Life quote of the month

2009-01-25T22:41:00.000+05:30

I badly needed a tag which would be consistent and something I write on about often. All my tags till now went like blah(1) bleh(1) blih(1) bluh(1) - I mean there's no point having tags if there's just a single post with it. It's unheard of. I think it might even be illegal.

Hence, I present to you LQOTM. Yes LQOTM. I like making up quotes, cool ones, like the ones they have of Casino Royale, Douglas Adams or Oscar Wilde on wikiquote. It's like a hobby with me - when I'm bored I like to think up one liners and quotes quietly in my head so I can feel witty inside and whatnot.

I'll start the first LQOTM with something simple because i don't want to burden my readers with something too heavy on the philosophical side as the first of my life quotes... and because I can't presently think of anything wittier. And because it has to be true, and hence a directly derived observation from my own life.

The other day I was mad at mom for some reason. I vowed not to eat either lunch or dinner that day ... I learnt a very important lesson -

" Anger cannot withstand hunger "

Thank you thank you, i know I'm awesome. You knew it yourself now, didn't you (the fact that I'm awesome, not the quote. You'd never have got the quote, srsly)

Coming soon to your PC

2009-01-23T19:20:00.000+05:30

I've made a short film. Written and directed it. Even when its part crap, i can't help but feel proud of it. It's my film. Hold on..

There you go.. It's so beautiful, innit? I'd have uploaded the film too, but blogger's limit for video size is 100 MB while Zhaar's (I know the title is kinda weird but revealing the meaning would give a away the premise of the movie. A hint - it's Kashmiri) size is a hefty 550 MB. I think I'll just break it and put it on youtube. Watch for it in the next couple of weeks.

Failure to Thrive

2009-01-14T19:21:00.000+05:30

failure to thrive

There was something in the air that told me
that things would all end well.
It was my only defence against what
my own heart had to tell.

PS - I apologize to everyone on my bloglist for not commenting on their posts and replying to theirs on mine. Be back with a new post and I'll be one of the first, k?

The Three Wise guys

2009-01-05T21:44:00.000+05:30

The New Year brought along with it its share of worries. Other than the fact that schools were reopening with the first day being a test day and that I had lots of work to do, one other thing bothered me. Resolutions. Not having one meant that I was happy with myself or the things around me. I wasn't, frankly and I needed to find out what I must resolve to do. I couldn't put my finger on it but there was a definite irritant.

A midnight talk on New Year's Day (and the next day) changed all that.

I spent 1st Jan at my cousin's place. It was after a long time that all four of us were together. There was me, the youngest (I don't prefer smallest), my elder brother, back from his engineering college at Goa, Abhishek, who's my age but looks bigger ,and his bro back on leave from a hotel management college. Apart from ordering food and the sumo wrestling (I lost to all three) which were without much incident; we had the talk.

11 pm. The lights were on. The door was closed so that my aunt and uncle wouldn't wake up. I was at the corner of the bed with all three of my brothers huddled around me. Counselling. On stuff ranging from money to standing up for myself to relations with others. They were like the three heads of Cerberus, hard to concentrate on one. There'd be a sharp whack on my foot if I looked away or I listened to someone else and I had to search for the head that administered the whack.

There was a theme here, but even if there wasn't, I'd have liked to make up one.

My Brother was the "You-can-do-whatever-you-want-in-the-world" man. I just had to stand up for myself and make good decisions. The world was my oyster, according to him.

Abhishek was the critcal one. His way was finding faults and sometimes even the solution to remedy them. The "If-you-be-like-this-you-won't-ever-get-what-you-want-and-people-will-trod-all-over-you" man.

His elder brother was the indifferent observer. He knew how the world worked and how I could be a better part of it. The "It's-all-a-game,-man" man.

All three played their roles superbly, I must hand it to them.

As I was about to turn in I was reminded of the story which Anirudh had once told me. About the 'good guy' (read spineless moron) who asks God why he made him that way.

I don't want to be that 'good guy'.

Ok Now. My resolutions -

1> Know when to be a good guy and when to be even better.

2> Give the SAT and TOEFL, I've finally made up my mind.

3> Change this blog's template and colour scheme (I need some help here), its so booring right now.

I think I'll end with a song I'm really really into nowadays. The lyrics follow.

It's 'Hey there Delilah' by the Plain white T's. Oho

Hey There Delilah - Plain White Ts

Hey there Delilah
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But girl tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
I swear it's true

Hey there Delilah
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice, it's my disguise
I'm by your side

Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me

Hey there Delilah
I know times are getting hard
But just believe me girl
Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar
We'll have it good
We'll have the life we knew we would
My word is good

Hey there Delilah
I've got so much left to say
If every simple song I wrote to you
Would take your breath away
I'd write it all
Even more in love with me you'd fall
We'd have it all

Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me

A thousand miles seems pretty far
But they've got planes and trains and cars
I'd walk to you if I had no other way
Our friends will all make fun of us
and we'll just laugh along because we know
That none of them have felt this way
Delilah I can promise you
That by the time we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you're to blame

Hey there Delilah
You be good and don't you miss me
Two more years and you'll be done with school
And I'll be making history like I do
You'll know it's all because of you
We can do whatever we want to
Hey there Delilah here's to you
This one's for you

Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me

Wow, that's so godawesome.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-01-01T00:04:00.000+05:30

New Year folks.....

It's your job to make it Happy :D

ladri di biciclette

2008-12-30T23:08:00.000+05:30

At the moment, my brother is in Delhi.

And every time my dear elder brother (he paid me to say that, honest) comes home to Delhi, he brings with him a collection of some the most famous, influential and award winning movies of all time.

Last to last summer, it was through his collection that I discovered some great films like Casino Royale, Casablanca, The Butterfly Effect, the Bourne trilogy and Waking Life among others. There were a few Docu-films too like the Inconvenient Truth, some of Noam Chomsky's and some Richard Dawkin's; which save for Al Gore's, I didn't have either the inclination nor the patience to see. At that time, I was also introduced to Boston Legal - a series that my brother raved about.

Last time he came, which was this summer, he brought a few more classics like The Dead Poet's Society, Finding Neverland, Life is Beautiful (a favourite) and Edward Scissorhands.

So this time in keeping with the tradition, his laptop was teeming with a host of movies. I looked through the list. Dasvidaniya, The silence of the lambs, Braveheart, Ladri di Biciclette, Motorcycle Diaries etc etc. His list also included Deshdrohi which started me : I didn't expect to find that there. I quizzed him on this recent development.
'Why?' I asked pointing at the icon with a carefully chosen deranged expression on my face. This one movie, half an hour of which I had seen on cable was something that haunted my dreams.
'What? O that. It's about Raj Thackeray and all the controversy about the Non-Marathas.'
'So why do you have it?'
'Ob. I wanted to see it'
'Did you, then?' I asked, hoping against hope.
'Yesterday afternoon, yes'.
I was crushed.
'Well...how was it?'
'Good. Alright, actually'
'What?!' What was left of my hilarity had turned to incredulity.'Why??'
'You see its not meant for city people like us. You may poke fun at it, but it's essentially meant to mobilise people in Bihar and UP. having that in mind, I thought it was okay.'
I still couldn't believe him. People from UP and Bihar would *obviously* not be moved to do anything after watching something as inane as Deshdrohi. Except for maybe going and lynching the film's producer and director for caricaturing them in the form of Kamal(pronounced "Kamaaal") Khan.

I am digressing, I must get on. Well anyway, yesterday I saw a movie called Ladri di Biciclette (translated to English as the Bicycle Thieves). According to its Wikipedia article, it's an Italian neorealist film directed by Vittorio de Sica, made in 1948. When you ask me if the movie was any good, need I say more than that this was the movie which inspired Satyajit Ray to be a filmmaker; and that its No.3 on the list of films considered the greatest of all time (after Battleship Potemkin and Gold Rush).

I'm not itching to write a review because it's one of those things, which when one tries to put into words they can only fail, because like music or a painting it has to be experienced... but I've talked myself into it.

[Spoiler Warning]:If you've already seen the movie don't hesitate to continue. If you haven't, you still may, for I cannot even begin to describe the portrayal of different emotions involved in the movie.

The Bicycle Thief is a story of Antonio Ricci and his family: his wife Maria and his son Bruno. Living in an era of the Great Depression in Italy, he like hundreds of other unskilled workers of his time, is unemployed. By a draw of lots, his name is chosen for the job of sticking posters around the city. But to take the job, he must have a bicycle - he accepts because jobs were scarce and hard to come by. Yet, he goes back home saddened, for he feels he must forfeit that opportunity as he doesn't have a bicycle nor the money to buy one. His wife comes to his aid and gets him the money by pawning some bedclothes at a pawn shop. Antonio thus is able to report to work and feels he has regained his dignity; that of a man of the working class.

On his first day of sticking posters his bicycle is stolen and that too in front of his very eyes. He chases after the thief but he proves to be too fast for him and escapes. Trounced and hopeless, he wanders around town seeking help from the police and his friends but he goes home a defeated man.
The rest of the movie involves him and his son searching for the missing article. But the marrow of the movie is Bruno(played by Enzo Staiola) - his honesty is touching, his naïvety is endearing and his acting is something that commands, and is worthy of your undivided attention. The way he tries to behave like his role model - his dad, his gait, the way he styles his hair or the way he struggles with the fork and knife (I still do) when his father takes him to a restaurant as a treat, ultimately resorting to use his hands.
But Antonio Ricci (played by Lamberto Maggiorani- a real life factory worker) creates magic with his acting too. This becomes apparent in the last scene in which he is torn between stealing a bicycle himself; when he all his efforts to get back his own bicycle fail. Desperate for his livelihood, and after many moments of pacing back and forth, he goes for it. He gives Bruno money to catch the tram and tells him to wait at some place and that he would meet him there. Antonio steals a parked bicycle but he is chased, finally cornered and caught. The crowd which gathers around him start beating and abusing him.

The Bicycle Thieves.

Bruno having missed his tram sees this and runs to "save" his dad. The owner sees Bruno and lets Antonio go, deciding not to press charges.'Some examples you set for your son' he says, departing.
The movie comes to a close now, with Antonio and his son both breaking down, holding hands. Antonio realizes that he is not morally superior to the thief and Bruno learns that his Dad is not perfect.

I feel like a moron now that I've given most of the story away, but still, that must not stop absolutely anyone from seeing this film. It's amazing and it's one in a million. I have the movie (with English subtitles) if anyone needs it, I'd be happy to share this gem.

Stuffy

2008-12-18T20:11:00.000+05:30

Uninspired.

Heavy headachy head. Blocked nose. Lots of dry cough. The only fun I had last was mimicking Darth Vader's 'I am your father' line when I was being nebulized at the doctor's.

I don't know if I'm making sense. I'm seriously trying to. I hate winter. no posts for a while.

I hope I get well soon. I hope yoga helps.

The White Tiger

2008-12-10T19:43:00.001+05:30

Finally, I got my hands on Aravind Adiga's debut novel. After a lot of weeks of waiting for it, hungrily reading excerpts wherever I could, vainly searching for a pdf all over ebook sites like esnips and going to Om Book shop twice just to be told that they were expecting it 'tomorrow' (both times)... I've got it. Luck has finally landed me with a copy and how. When least expecting it, Dad back from work, handed me a copy fishing it out from underneath several grocery items. If I had been sitting down, then I would have reeled - such was my surprise.

"Gosh were did you get it??" I asked Dad.
He smiled but didn't answer. I felt he was waiting for me to guess. I inspected it with scrutiny. No plastic bag except for a thin and slightly scarred cellophane covering. "Wait, wait! Which signal?" I asked. "Moti Bagh" he said, laughing. But his expression of mirth at once become somewhat grave. " I can't help feeling bad for Adiga. Can you imagine how much he'll lose in sales because of book piracy?" I didn't reply but just gave dad a stupid smile. I was too ecstatic to do anything but.

Probably if I was a little more sober I would have reiterated what Jeffrey archer had said when he came to India this year, which was something of this sort - "I've been told that in India, you're a good enough author only if you're books are sold at pavements and traffic signals."
But such is the tragedy of life: You don't always get to express what you would like to when the moment calls for it. What's more, it stings painfully when you get that perfect retort or witty on-liner hours later, when all the matter is done and dusted. All one can say then is 'Humph!'. So I did just that right now.

Anyway back to the book. I tore off the the cover like a hungry kid who'd just been given a bag of chips. I read the blurb and I examined the print and the cover which, quite remarkably was of a very good quality. It looked so much like the real thing that it would leave even the publishers stunned, save for a slight darkening of the back cover, probably due to the photocopying.
Whatever the hell, it looked nice.

"Tell me when you finish it, so I can read it". It was Dad's voice which brought me back to reality. Then to a sense of angst. I was in the middle of a PG Wodehouse. What use was stopping at page 73 to start and finish another book just to pick up where I had left off, having forgotten much of the already read part. To leave it all when I was in the thick of things was not an option. I never do usually leave books half-read. Unless you'd like to count "self-help" crap as books. But never fiction.

Well now I'm down to just 80 or so more pages of The girl in blue. Seems I just have to finish it. Curse you Wodehouse. Curse you and your engaging Wodehousian wit!

Bucket list

2008-12-04T19:57:00.001+05:30

Since this is my 25^th post, I felt it should be something a little special.

I never actually got to see the movie of the same name but its article on wikipedia piqued my interest on the subject of having life goals or a list of stuff to do before someone 'kicks the bucket'.
So sometime in September, I started on my own list which I plan to stick to throughout my life. I reproduce it here in all its original glory save for a few omissions that make me sound exceedingly weird or maybe pretentious.

Probably it sounds corny, but I'll risk it and say it - this is all thanks to my mom and dad who let my dreams soar, never keeping me in check. Thanks.

Well, here it is, in no particular order of importance :

1) Skydive once. [When I was littler, I wanted to a stuntman. So there]

2) Become ambidextrous. [Practice does make perfect. inspired by my bro's attempts to try and be the same, being part lefty would be just so cool.]

3) Have a PhD. [...]

4) Live to atleast 80. [I'd like to see the future, know how it's like to be behind the times]

5) Write fiction and get it published, at least once. [Always wanted to be an author]

6) Blog till I die. [Really, even if I get no hits at all]

7) Have a large padded room to do crazy stuff in, before 30. [like parkour, flips and whatnot. First evidence of insanity, there's more to come.]

8) Visit Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, South Africa, Japan, Montenegro, Las Vegas among other places. [when I was small, I wanted to be like dad (don't we all). On the last count the no. of countries he's visited was tallied at 22. If I could do that, it'd be awesome]

9) Join Mensa or some other high IQ society. [it's an obsession. When I checked last, my IQ stood at 134. Not good enough, unfortunately]

10) Get over my dismal, abominable and unexplainable fear of pitch darkness. [Its true. When there's no light source in view and I'm not in bed, I just shrivel up right where I'm standing]

11) Dance on the road. Once. [the second evidence of insanity]

12) Relearn to play the violin. [I probably knew the basics when I was taught when i was in 7th or 8th, but now I've forgotten. Seeing my dusty, cobwebby violin every time I open the cupboard under the bed strengthens my resolve to pursue this. Saved for old age.]

13) Have a one on one fight. [Only if the situation calls for it. I'm mad.]

14) Save someone's life directly and knowingly. [I smile everytime i read this]

15) Run an entire marathon. Experience a runner's high [I've always liked running, but only in short bursts. A test for my endurance]

16) Drive an Aston Martin or a convertible on a cobblestoned path. [inspired by Bond. The third piece of evidence]

17) Swim in a large warm lake, clean and clear without fish in it. (admittedly inspired by an insurance company's advertisement)

18) Win an award pertaining to my field. [whatever career i choose]

19) Perform in front of a gathering of 5 or more people. [anything, sing dance. Just to end my awkwardness in front of groups]

20) Sleep for an indefinite period of time in a ambient temperature environment on clean, fresh bedding, with absolutely no one to disturb me. [I expect that would happen only if I'm hospitalized or something, and advised complete rest]

21) Have my photo in the paper atleast 3 times. [so that its not a one-off chance. childhood obsession]

22) Fly a kite on my own. [awestruck by my cousin brothers' skills, I could never hold one in the air whenever they would hand me the line.]

23) Win 40,000 in bets/shares. [no comment, either from my side or yours]

24) In a game of soccer, save 3 or more goals and have my team win [I just love being a goalie]

25) Get Zulu cloned. [That. would. be. awesome.]

26) Do something for my parents. Make them proud. [originally 'buy SUV for dad and diamond jewellery for mom']

27) Create a professional painting [well I do like playing with colours]

28) Own three or more pairs of Italian suits. [I don't know why actually]

29) Have my own page in wikipedia. [hoping..]

30) If I ever be a dad, be a good one. [much like my own]

I vow.
{signature}
13/9/08, 1:43 pm
Aakash Institute

It is imperfect, it is incomplete, it will see some changes as I grow up.

But it gives my life a purpose.

Journal

2008-12-02T17:36:00.000+05:30

Here are some of my most favourite xkcd comic strips, part of the series named Journal. For those who don't know about xkcd, read the article on wikipedia.

********************************************

********************************************

Thanks bro ;)

TV Interview

2008-11-28T18:06:00.000+05:30

9:45. Yesterday.

Long back from school, having learnt of the terrorist acts that were tearing Mumbai apart, I sat in sullen silence watching the news with my father.
School had been a languid affair that day, with an air despondency and glumness hanging in the classrooms.

A harried image of Barkha Dutt (the news reporter) appeared on the screen. By what she told the viewers, she had been out in front of the Taj Mahal Palace hotel the entire day. Presently, she was with the husband of a woman who was trapped inside the hotel, a man named Shantanu Saikia. The husband needed some news of his wife and the reporter required a heart breaking story. A win-win situation(?) even in these hard times. The ensuing dialogue went like this-

BD: And now I have with me a relative of someone who has been inside that hotel since yesterday night. Shantanu your wife Sabina is trapped inside, isn't she?

SS: Yes Barkha, she had gone for a wedding function, and then the terrorists..came.

BD: So Shantanu, tell me how have you been dealing with this situation, how did you get to know about it?

SS: I got to know about it when I was just coming back from work and as soon as I realised my wife was inside the Taj, I rushed here as fast as I could.

BD: Did you get a chance to speak to her after the incident took place?

SS: The last time I talked to her was at 9pm last night. Then she kept messaging me from under her bed, and the last message I got from her was at 2am early this morning. (probably early this morning felt a little more reassuring to himself than late last night, I thought)

BD: Oh.(she immediately looked downcast) Is your family here with you right now?

SS: No, it's just me. My children are at home. Me and Sabina have two very small children, my son who's 11 years old and my 14 year old daughter. Sabina used to dote on them very much...

BD: Please don't say used to...it will all be okay. (she was almost pleading)

SS: I hope, I hope, I will never lose hope. The last message I got from her was that the terrorists were in her bathroom.

BD: Oh dear.

SS: Yes. (He adjusted his glasses) And..And now today there has been a large explosion in that area. (his voice trailed off)

BD: It will all be alright, Shantanu.

SS: No, I won't lose hope. I can't.

That left me stunned. Sabina's husband was a strong man. And now his family had been (supposedly) shattered.

I sat up at night, unable to help, unable to sleep.
I wish I had cried. Maybe then this would've been out of my mind.

No

2008-11-24T23:41:00.000+05:30

In my last post, G was not made in reference to my Grandmother, as some people have tried to guess. Nor does it stand for Guru. It's a name, actually. And a very good one too.

Me and, well sigh, the bee - 2

2008-11-20T15:30:00.000+05:30

(...)

Today was the final of the American Center - Times Foundation spelling bee.

Didn't go as well as I planned, actually.

Day began at 5:30. Woke up sleepily to see off mom and grandma who were leaving for the airport to catch a plane to go to Bangalore. Mom wished me luck for today and for the gazillionth time, apologized profusely for not being able to came and see me at the bee. I was a little relieved inside really, since I didn't want to let anyone down if I did badly there (that's one thing about me - always cynical. Have to take G's suggestion. Maybe my next post will be about G and G's wonderful message).

Fast forward to the time when me and Manu Kohli ma'am were getting ready to get to the American Center from school (I try not to bore you with details).

8:40. Both of us sitting in the transport incharge's office. Being informed that there's no transport available. Manu ma'am being given money for conveyance. Being told that the metro was our best option. It's then that I realised how the internal matters of the school were controlled and regulated; how people engineered the situation to their benefit (Now, I really can't explain anything).

We chose the best and quickest option before us, the Delhi metro. Were driven to the nearest station, Dwarka sec-12 (don't know how ma'am managed that) and after taking two tokens for Barakhamba, we got into a slightly crowded metro. And it just kept on getting more and more crowded after that for 23 stations, if I'm not wrong. I didn't mind the standing, but what peeved me was that there wasn't enough space for me to practice some more with the book held in hand. Finally after about 40 minutes of travel, we disembarked and without much event, managed to get to the American Center (remember not centre) at about 9:50.

Quickly, I got my thing-with-the-number-on-it-which-I-needed-to-put-round-my-neck and well, put it round my neck. No.10 (I was actually glad to get a nice round even number, don't know why). What followed was a very plastic interview by NDTV metronation at the Center library. The interviewer ((who I think believed he looked cool with a silver piercing on his eyebrow) told us to pretend to look around, looking at books, completely unaware of the over-sized camera. The very idea of getting us up there was to have the interview. The pierced-eyebrow guy asked me a few questions, which I answered absentmindedly.
Also, I met Amanullah (refer to comments of MATB), a nice taciturn fellow.

A few introductions, a phone interview with Samir Mishra (last years winner of the Scripp's spelling bee) and rules for the days competition followed. The rules in condensed form would sound a lot like - Get a word wrong and you're outta here.. I started gulping gallons of my own saliva.

I don't exactly remember what followed or the sequence of events, the only thing I can recall next is me up on the stage being asked the two preliminary words by Maroof Raza.

N-E-O-P-R-E-N-E. Neoprene. 'Correct'.

F-A-S-T-I-D-I-O-U-S. Fastidious. 'Correct'.

I'd get 'em right! I went and sat down onto my seat noting the encouraging smiles of Manu ma'am and my dad, who had just then come from office. Saw Amanullah tripping on a word, which I think was because it wasn't pronounced right.
After a teeny juice break, I found out I was to be in the final round. I noted with slight discomfort that this round was going to be recorded for television broadcast.
The first word now - T-E-M-P-E-S-T-U-O-U-S. Tempestuous. 'Correct'.
My second word - 'Venireman'. 'Huh?'. 'Could I get that again?' 'VENIREMAN'.

I paused. This didn't sound familiar. I got nervous.
'Umm - V-E-N-I-R-A-M-E-N' .... 'I'm sorry' Maroof Raza said. He certainly didn't look it. I was out.

A Sprigdales girl went on to win the competition, and quite deservedly too. Amanullah comforted me and said that the word was tough and took down two more people after me. 'There's always next year'. I noted the disappointment on his face when I told him that the bee was for students of classes IX and XI only. 'Unless we fail.' I added, to lighten the convo.

Photo by dad, me fiddling with mic

Venireman : A person summoned to jury duty under a venire facias. I don't think I'll ever forget that word. Ever.

A lunch sorta thing followed which saw a girl from Loreto Convent flying past me saying 'Nice blog' (If you read this, say hi).
I ate half my pastry, but it seemed tasteless, wax-like and all too creamy that I chucked it in the bin.

I wasn't a sore loser, I could have blamed Raza for his slight mispronunciation, I could have blamed the camera, I could have blamed the abruptness, the lights. But I knew I should have kept my wits about me. Asked the definition. Waited. Pondered. And then said. Instead I acted like an arse.

I felt dejected, I cannot deny that. I'm someone who's been in love with language my entire life - It's my thing. And I screwed this up. My dad had missed an important meeting to be there. Manu ma'am had probably expected me to do better.

It was time to leave. As I ascended the stairs, the campaign photos of the US presidential election candidates greeted me. It wasn't Obama who I was looking at, but the smiling face of senator John McCain.

We probably belonged to the same class, McCain and me. I think I then knew how McCain had felt while giving his speech after the results were out.

I breathed easy after that. Schadenfreude? I couldn't care.

Quid agis

2008-11-18T19:09:00.000+05:30

15 million people are on the net.

300 million are watching TV.

22 million are brushing their hair.

4 million people are kissing or being kissed.

15 million people are drinking coke.

3.2 billion people are sleeping.

6 million are being taught in a classroom.

1.4 million people are sending a text message.

5 people are in space.

350,000 are playing football.

38 million are driving or riding in a car.

120 million people are using the bathroom.

380 million are daydreaming.

And what were you doing before you turned to the computer ?

PS - I was eating a samosa.

On music

2008-11-12T18:12:00.000+05:30

There are two means of refuge from the misery of life—music and cats.

I think it was Albert Schweitzer who gave that quote, and it spoke to me the first time I read it in some magazine. I was not sure about cats when I read it, but I could vouch for the music part without hesitating. Cats were ok,cuddly looking but having rather selfish gleams to their eyes, not exuding the kind of infectious friendliness that dogs generally do. A week later, I discovered lolcats.

The next day, I began exploring the works of the great Albert Schweitzer.

His views on philosophy and anti colonialism are revolution for his day and his "Problem of Peace" lecture was absolutely genius.

But enough about that. I'm straying away from the main point, which is of course about the immense revitalizing potential of all kinds of music.
Honestly, I think you don't need me to tell you that. It's quite obvious actually. You've just had a bit of a tiff with someone, you recline down onto an easy chair and turn up the volume to some music from your mp3 player/computer/car radio. In a few minutes, the head-shaking and foot-tapping takes over, the initial sting is no longer felt.

I believe there are different songs for different moods. Not only that, it's that you can experience a specific kind of music in the best way possible only in a specific kind of mood. Spirits need not be elevated or exultant, it can be pensive or even depressed (anger I think does not work with music - rebellion yes, but not rage. It clouds the senses). In other moods it feels different, not having the same perfect (or rather desired) effect on you. You'll might agree that it's rather simple and straightforward if you think about it.

Personally, since I am blessed with erratic and unseasonable mood swings, I feel I can enjoy most kinds of music.
There's one quirky little hindi song that's come out recently. Its not just the song that's great, its that it's a visual treat :

There's another very good song, with the genre being "sufi-ish" this time. It's a beautiful song, a stunning interpretation of overwhelming infatuation, sung by Roop Kumar Rathod, one of the best singers in India, i think. It gives me a transient surge of a feeling somewhat like being madly in love. That makes me want to listen to it over and over again.

One other great song which I've become quite fond of recently is 'You raise me up' by Josh Groban, a cover of the original song of the same name by Secret Garden. Incidentally, though not surprisingly, the song has over 125 covers, thanks mainly to its timeless lyrics. It's very inspirational and emphasises on the value of human bonds.here, its got the lyrics too :

Here are a few more variations of this same song, the first performed on a musical saw. It is worth your while, really awesome.

This second is a Spanish opera version by Paul Potts, the winner of the first 'Britain's got Talent', called 'Por ti Sere'. Catchy.

Well, I'll end with a book suggestion, "This Is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession" by Daniel Levitin. I must confess, that I haven't read it myself even though I had it issued for three weeks from the library (I wish I had, now). My bro read some of it, and I think his recommendation would suffice to make it a good read.

Well, see ya.

Me and the bee

2008-11-06T21:41:00.000+05:30

Ok, that's an annoying title which does not really make for a good wordplay. We move on, then.

Today was the preliminary round for the American Center & Times foundation Spelling Bee held at DPS Mathura Road. The morning started out rather slow, as I reached school I was informed that the reporting time at DPSMR was 11 am. The news left me quite relieved, for we could get going from Dwarka and get to Mathura Road at a slow pace, and still be a little early.
Kriti and I sat in the library getting tested and taught a few stuff by the teacher accompanying us, Ms Manu Kohli. We ended our discussions and the end of which, thanks to the way in which Americans had ruthlessly contorted the Queen's English, I felt a little punch drunk and slightly unprepared, for we had been taught British English all our lives.

We set off in a small Omni, at about 9:10. About fifteen minutes into our journey, someone in a passing car told us that we had a puncture on one of the tires. The van lackadaisically stopped at the side of the Dwarka flyover. The school somehow could not send another vehicle, so our driver, rather foolhardily really, set out to change the flat tire with spare one in the boot. His body faced the oncoming office traffic and I actually believe that he got kicked once or twice by passing motorcyclists (which were followed by angry abuses hurled by the understandably miffed driver-cum-repairman). The three of us stood on the flyover, worrying whether we'd reach on time. It was a nice place to get stranded on, actually, we were compensated with a nice bird's eye view. Manu ma'am told us that she was assuaged by the fact that the broken down van didn't have the words "DPS DWARKA" on its side, just as the ten minute procedure ended.

We were fortunately not late when we reached DPSMR at 10:50. DPSMR had a certain "old-school" charm with respect to its architecture and layout. Anyway, me and Kriti sat ourselves down on vacant seats in the hall after completing the usual registration procedures. The Director of the American, Anne Sheshadri, council was visibly pleased as she addressed the gathering, which she pointed out was because of the American presidential election results.
After a few more introductions, the main competition started quickly enough as me and Kriti 'good-luck-ed' each other. There were twenty words in all, being spoken out by a heavyset man who went by the name of Maroof Raza. I managed to write all of them down, hazarding guesses and being sure at times. I handed over my sheet with a few misgivings.

Refreshment Break. Didn't feel hungry.

Screening of a small part of the film 'Akeelah and the Bee'

All of us waited as the papers were being checked and the lucky 30 were being winnowed out.

The results were about to be announced. 'some-kid's-name' the Director bellowed. 'Some-other's'. 'Fat-girl-with-glasses-on'. 'Completely-surprised-skinny-kid'. 'Snobbish-girl-with red hair'. Nope, not me... Yet (I liked to think in those unkind moments). 'Unmistakably-nervous-kid'. Namely me.

There was an audible 'Oh-Congrats!' from Kriti as I hobbled to the front were the rest of them were standing. It was an unusual feeling. Unusual meaning not usual. it felt all weird really as I stood there waiting for the list to get over, half-expecting, half-hoping kriti's name to be called out any moment. It wasn't. Probably that is what added to the "unusualness". I loosely shook Anne Sheshadri's hand. There was a closing address with an announcement that the finals would be held at the American Center on the 20_th of the month, which would be, as spelling bees usually are, an oral round.

I looked at Kriti as the crowd dispersed. 'I'm surprised', I said.
The teacher smilingly asked me how I was feeling, after the customary 'congrats'. 'I don't know. Unusual', I said truthfully. I didn't say much to Kriti as we were beginning to leave. I felt if I tried to say comforting things to her, in typical 'me' style, it would be misunderstood as mocking or condescending. I stayed quite, feeling rather proud inside but not showing it.

We got in and ma'am pointed out that I was one of the only boys who had qualified. Another thing that I was too dazed to observe myself was that I was the only guy from any of the DPSs. 'Saving Grace', she laughed. That left me really pleased with myself.

The van rode the way back and I asked to be dropped at the Vasant Enclave market, so I could walk home from there.

Well here are some of the words that I spelled incorrectly (followed by what I wrote) - aggrandizement(agrandisement), segue (seggui), maneuver (manoeuvre - darned american english). Must take care next time.

Came home and saw Johnny Gaddar.

Looking forward to November

2008-11-02T16:56:00.000+05:30

I can't say why but November seems so full of promise. I don't really know the exact reason but it might be probably because the new month will be quite eventful, if not interesting.

A lot of things have already found their way onto my list of stuff to look out for; including the American Center - DPS Mathura Rd spelling bee, Mom and Dad's marriage anniversary, a friend's birthday, a cousin's birthday, my physics retest (due to absence, duh), some movie releases like Quantum of solace and Dasvidaniya, the first 'hands-on' Junior Doctor's club class and of course the annual fête.

I promised myself just 15 minutes off as break between doing my Psychology project and off they go right now.

Strangely somewhat, after a week of holiday, I can't wait to go to school tomorrow. It just isn't me. Must be the lethargy.

2008-10-27T19:54:00.000+05:30

Well. I'm back.

The past few days have been unusual, but, then again with the changing weather, festivity and frequent weird little occurrences, the line between the bizarre and the mundane seems to have faded away.

Today I have poem to offer. Usually my poems are nonsensical or flippantly breezy but yesterday what I wrote was something new to me. It's serious poem. It sort of has a message. Really.

Well the process took considerably more time than a nonsense verse. After getting some inspiration, ideation took a few days, research took about a day and I had to give an entire Sunday for writing. In short, this had been the focal point of all my thoughts for more or less a week. Read the poem first, explanations and the epilogue will follow.

Bodhisattva

The engine of the Austin
Rumbled as it went along.
There was a fervid bustle outside,
But the car's passengers had not spoken for long.

'Please', a sudden voice broke the stillness
'Let me take your place.'
There was pleading in his voice,
but no eagerness in his face.

Quảng Đức looked up,
his features somewhat taut.
'Never do something for which you are not inclined
And for this,dear - you are not.'

His countenance became gentle once more
and he placed a hand on his disciple's cheek.
He smiled comfortingly and whispered -
'This path may not be what you seek.'

The disciple held back tears
then looked out the rolled up glass.
Their destination was reached.
The moment had come at last.

Quảng Đức disembarked unhurriedly
He took it as any other day.
A goal in sight,
A role to play.

His disciples meanwhile prepared everything.
Readied the loudspeaker; readied the seat;
readied the banners and themselves
for they were about to see.

With the loudspeaker in hand,
Đức's followers spoke about their people.
About the violence and injustice they faced in Diem's rule,
about the downtrodden and the feeble.

Around Đức, a ring of men
formed an impenetrable chain.
pedestrians and policemen alike,
stopped to watch on the busy Saigon lane.

Quảng Đức, sat in the centre.
He breathed placidity and calm.
telling the beads of the rosary,
he signalled that there was no cause for alarm.

'A homage to Buddha' were his final words
As he closed his eyes for the final time.
From a five gallon gasoline tank, a disciple
poured all the contents over his mentor sublime.

Screams erupted from the distance,
but nobody moved an inch
as Quảng Đức struck a match and then
dropped it on his lap without a flinch.

The tiny flame magnified within moments
into a blaze engulfing Đức
Who sat with his eyes closed
projectng a composed and contented look.

There were cries from here and there.
Wailings of anger and protest.
Policemen tried to clear the barricade
of people unmidful of arrest.

The authorities could not intervene
to save the life of this priest
who sat still, peacefully, impassively
even as his destroyer's crest increased.

All those bearing witness, prostrated
before the dying man
Who was, moment by moment, breathing life
into the hopes of all those oppressed in the land.

The monk's faced charred
And the trunk began to blacken.
The body was reduced to cinders
Finally he had died - his posture slackened.

The glowing tower of ashes
gently toppled forward.
A pupil rushed to cover the corpse with a yellow robe.
As thick smoke wandered skyward.

The bystanders watched the clergy
winding up the procession.
They stood still, too shocked
to cry, to move, to show expression.

Meanwhile, sparks of revolt
had been planted far and wide.
Like cracks spreading fast in glass,
the existing rule was crumbling from inside.

That evening as Saigon's mourning residents
were about to turn in for a restful sleep,
They saw a doleful vision amidst the setting sun -
they claimed to see a vision of the Buddha weep.

The first photo you saw is of Thích Quảng Đức, taken by journalist Malcolm Browne, similar to the World Press Photograph of the year 1963(it's copyright and a lot more graphic). That is what inspired me (obviously), and in part so did one of Mystique's posts.

Diem's rule came to an end shortly, with an army coup toppling and killing Diệm that November. The self-immolation is widely seen as the turning point of the Vietnamese Buddhist crisis which led to the change in regime.

Quảng Đức's body was recremated and it was found that his heart did not burn. It was taken to be a symbol of compassion and he was regarded as a bodhisattva (leading an enlightened existence).

The context of the final stanza was so eerie that it made my skin prickly with goosebumps.

Finally.
It may not be my best poem, I may not have touched poetic excellence, but there's something about this piece which makes me proud I wrote it.

Patriots

2008-10-23T19:45:00.000+05:30

We were sitting in class the other day. The Chemistry teacher was explaining the working principle of the electrochemical cell to a half asleep class. I looked at my watch - 9:30 which meant there were still about forty minutes left for the class to get over. The previous night had been spent by me in an insomniac state, looking out of the window, not particularly thinking about anything - just admiring the numerous constellations in the Prussian blue sky. I was gonna miss doing this, with winter and smoky Diwali (the festival of ~~lights~~ asthma inducing firecrackers) approaching hand in hand, this passtime was going to die only to revived next year.

Back to the point then, well, last night's lack of shuteye left me very groggy and certainly in no condition to learn about salt bridges (hey! i remembered that). The dullness of it all was reaching a mute overbearing crescendo when I heard the Indian anthem floating up from the school grounds upto the second floor classroom where I sat. The junior school assembly was evidently coming to a close.

Its effect on me was stirring: a song breaking the insufferable monotony; sentiments of pride subduing feelings of stark weariness; like steaming tomato soup in December.

Standing up for the national anthem when you were being taught was a complete no-no for seniors. It lead to disturbances, was the popular consensus among teachers. For an ENTIRE minute (about 52 seconds). imagine that. No, it just wouldn't do.
In ninth, I heard of a teacher who punished an entire class due to this abominable crime (which I'm sure took considerably more time than 52 seconds).

I looked around. The class was pretty much the same, really. No one else looked as awake as I was (not even the teacher for that matter). Nobody was standing up, as gesture of respect. Jana Gana Mana Adhinayaka, Jaya He Bharata Bhagya Vidhata
(thou art the ruler of the minds of all people; Thy name rouses the hearts of ...).

Neither was I.

In a clumsy manner, I raised myself up. And stood looking at the board as if it fascinated me. The teacher was looking at me, I could feel her eyes glaring at my out-of-place frame. I tried to block it out. Jaya, jaya, jaya, jaya he! (Victory, victory, victory, victory to thee !)...Culmination. My body gradually became less taut. I looked down at the teacher. She had an incredulous explanation-demanding look on her face. 'Uh - board' I said, pointing at my eyes. It was lame, and I knew as soon as I had said it. I was sitting just 3 benches from the front, there was no need really to stand up, but what made it even more awkward for me was that there was nothing on the board worth looking at. Just a force-distribution-diagram from the previous physics class. I looked weakly at the teacher.

'Sit down' she said finally after what was a pregnant pause. I think I noted a grin on the corners of her pursed lips, but only momentarily.

I sat down feeling numbly awkward and proud at the same time.

Spinoff

2008-10-15T17:14:00.000+05:30

Well, I got 'em. I can't really say I'm pleased with myself about the results. Sure, I surprised myself with the Psychology and Biology results, not exactly expecting the marks I so lavishly received; but Chem turned out to be a big spoiler.Well my marks are as follows (promise me that you won't judge me from now on, on the basis of my scorecard) :

1. Chem (34/70) (average or something)
2. Bio (52.5/70) - 75% , 4th in class
3. Eng (76/90) - 84% , 2nd in class
4. Psy (66/70) - 94% , !st in class
5. Phy - absent. Retest due sometime in November.

When I read what I've written, it's hard not to smile seeing that I've also written down the rank in each subject ('cept chem, I didn't have the heart to find out where I stood). Reminds me of something I heard just as soon as all the papers had been distributed - Someone from another class came to ours and asked one of my friends, 'Yaar, whats you're rank in the class ?'.My friend eyed him dubiously. 'Rank ? Who finds that out nowadays ?? That held good only till about the third grade. In 11th and 12th we just care whether we've passed or failed.', he laughed, 'I passed.'

Well that's all from here, you take care now.

In the eye of the storm

2008-10-11T20:53:00.000+05:30

The worst kind of time of year is here again... The awkward period of strangely calm unrest between giving exams and getting them back. The air is thick with almost tangible levels of anxiety, bitterness and dread.
Let it end already, I'm going mad jus thinking about it...Come Monday, I'll know my result.

Entury

2008-10-08T16:20:00.000+05:30

WELL, Well, well. We meet at last. It feels like ages since I've posted (save for my last teeny little post), and now since my exams are (finally) over, I think I'll make posting more of a habit.

Well, with the week long limber down period granted rather generously by the school, I think I've managed to utilize it in the most improvident manner possible. Sleeping till about 1 o'clock in the afternoon , eating fried stuff for every meal, not walking the dog and sitting in front of the comp. the whole day playing internet contests.
Which is not to say I've not done productive stuff - I've seen some rather awesome short films on youtube. I made a rather neat little list of the many films I saw and ranked them as follows :

1. The Insane
2. Hello stranger
3. Black button
4. Meeting girls
5. Spin
6. Offside
7. Fact checkers unit
8. Knock knock
9. Our Time Is Up
10. Rent-A-Person

Also, on the day the tests got over I shot into a reading jag, cosseting myself by reading three of Wodehouse's finest - Right ho, Jeeves, Piccadilly Jim and Something Fresh under 24 hours. I would have read more, but as Safary put it in TZP, "the words had started dancing" in front of my eyes - and did not exactly relish the idea of having to wear glasses.

One rather novel thing I tried out day before yesterday was learning how to bake. It started as I was sitting on the couch watching 'the foodie' on TV. The fat-guy-whose-name-I-don't-remember-and-am-too-lazy-to-find-out started saying baking cookies was the easiest thing to do, if you had enough time on your hands. I had plenty, so I jotted down the recipe and instructions which seemed simple enough at first.

I got all the required ingredients and set of to make it. With the dough having reached the desired consistency, I set to preheat the oven and butter the baking tray. I laid out little dumplings of chocolate-chip cookie dough on the tray, put it in and waited...
In a word, the first batch was a damned debacle. The cookies got burnt to the core, I burnt my right hand at two places and my left at three, and when I offered the baked goods to my grandmother, she told me plainly that they were the worst things she'd ever had the misfortune of consuming. Sinister words, I must admit but I wasn't discouraged because A) I was just getting started, and B) there was still three-fourths of the dough left in the container.

The period of time between the first two batches led me to discover a pair of baking gloves, ensuring no more burnt fingers.
The second batch was, I must say, rather awesome. It was edible, almost unburnt and smelt lovely. My gran took back her words and ate two or three, inspite of her having diabetes. The rest of the family followed in eating the cookies and showering adulations on the baker.

Well, there ends the account of my cookie baking venture. I think I'll conclude with something that I like and goes rather well with the exam fever (not the sort of fever that's a contagious excitement, like disco fever; but the sort of fever which makes you sick and wanna barf). Well anyway, here are some funny pictures collected from all over the net. Enjoy

G'day to you now

Not Procrastinating. Honest

2008-10-07T14:20:00.000+05:30

Tomorrow, Tomorrow for sure.

Till the next time

2008-09-16T19:01:00.000+05:30

This I think would be my last post before the mid-term examinations commence on the 25th. They get over (I think) by the 3rd so I'll be posting a few days after, like 4th or 5th.

My subject revisions are going satisfactorily well, except Physics that is. Physics is something that I was never very good at and now it seems harder than ever. Biology is manageable as long as I have enough time, Chemistry is challenging at times but interesting. Psychology and English are going rather smoothly.

I was rather proud of myself the other day - I managed to write two poems under 6 hours (I've done seven in a day once but that was months ago). Going by bus to school is a 40 minutes journey - so fending off sleep at 6:30, I managed to write something that I've never tried before - a limerick. I tried to make it as limericky as possible with the insertion of nonsense words. Lear, I hope to make you proud :

The Gent

There was an old man from Dwarka
Who walked his dog to the park-a
The dog ran around,
dragging its owner on the ground
while he cried 'wait' between resounding bark-as.

I hope you guys will forgive me for that.
And for the one I'm gonna post after this. This next one I wrote on the way back home in a seemingly empty bus (most kids were absent due to the upcoming exams). I only had Ankur keeping me company, and he was sleeping in the back-seat after laughing at my limerick (at it, not because of it). I wrote it keeping in mind my perpetual, almost psychotic fear of messing up exams. That and something a friend had told me once. Here it is in all its un-altered glory (truthfully, I was feeling rather lazy to make it better):

Examination Hall, New Delhi

The paper lay before me
Like a cold and devilish smile
Sneering at my thoughts
Leering all the while.

'It's right', it seemed to mock
'That answer that you were thinking.
Its seemly and absolutely correct'
Then I think I caught it blinking.

The liar ! It wants to mislead me !
I told myself off for falling for it
I looked at the paper in mad rage
Grabbing it, I almost tore it

The act caught the invigilator's eye
He advanced and riveted his glare on me
Pronto, I pretended to be immersed in a question
and covered the quelled paper so he wouldn't see

The evil imp passed wordlessly
I, relieved, tried to start again
My mind went blank as I attempted to recall
And it started to hurt near my jugular vein

I took out my hankie and wiped away dry tears
All the months of studying for the entrance exam
Were going to waste minute by minute
I needed to do something, I thought in alarm.

Then I noticed something I hadn't seen before
I don't really recall the reason why
Next to me sat another test-taker
Cheating was the only option, my mind implied

With my clean-as-slate yet unclean mind
And cheating as my last resort
I managed to catch a few runaway words
From the studious girl's cohort

I caught a sly answer
And hurried to copy it down
But the words which hit the paper
Were 'CANCELLED' in blood red-brown.

It was the demon invigilator
And as he recapped his steely pen,
'Cancelled' he declared
'You've failed and can't take the test again.'

A hundred different emotions
Swirled inside my being
I looked down at my paper
I felt strange at the words I was seeing

I didn't and couldn't speak up
I couldn't move - I continued to sit
I had to be heaved up
Before being told to exit.

It's a pretty annoying cliché
But a very useful one
It was then I woke up with a start
It was a dream - still undone

I looked at the calender and groaned
Waking up was the worst thing to do
I was horrified, I choked.
I was about to relive the horror at half past two.

That's it from my side from now. Don't you blame me if you get nervous halfway through your exam after remembering this. But what you can do is comment on this post.
That way I'll have something to look forward to after my exams !

OMG ! We could still be done for !

2008-09-11T20:01:00.000+05:30

I just got to know that the collisions haven't taken place yet but rather just primary tests have been conducted in the Large Hadron Collider at CERN.

Which means that when it will happen, the world could still collapse into itself, annihilating us all. That wouldn't make for a very pretty picture.

There is so much more chance Rossler might be wrong but if somehow he managed to have his facts right - We could be done for.

I hate it when Germans turn out to be right all the time - Like Einstein, Ballack and Hitler. Well ol' Adolf wasn't right - he made it seem right.

Anyways I hope we don't die. It would be such a waste.

Otto Rössler misled me

2008-09-11T14:48:00.000+05:30

No black holey implosion.

Hmmm......

I wonder what it points to.

The coldest blood runs through my veins

2008-09-06T18:56:00.000+05:30

Until about some weeks ago, I used to bug certain people like Anirudh and my own brother to add new posts for their blogs, and used to make them rather guilty for not getting off their chair and writing something for their namesakes...I've stopped now, partly because they don't listen and partly due to the fact that it has started to happen to me.

There is sometimes not enough time - and when there is, there's a lack of motivation - no topic to write about, not much stuff to write about and so many other reasons (excuses - ?).

Anyway, now is a certain time when I feel motivated to profess to the world my love for all things James Bond. Apart from the brilliant books by Fleming (I've only read two though), the movies and the soundtracks for each of the films made after 1999 (those are the only ones I've seen) are superb and tread near perfection.

I saw Casino Royale again for the fourth time some days ago and was this time entranced by the opening theme 'You know my name' sung by Audioslave front man Chris Cornell. The lyrics are just so outstanding and the intro which goes with it during the opening of Casino royale is beautifully made.

I have here the opening sequence and the accompanying lyrics. Read the lyrics first and then watch the video.

You know my name

If you take a life do you know what you'll give?
Odds are, you won't like what it is
When the storm arrives, would you be seen with me?
By the merciless eyes of deceit?

I've seen angels fall from blinding heights
But you yourself are nothing so divine
Just next in line

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you willing to die?

The coldest blood runs through my veins
You know my name

If you come inside things will not be the same
When you return to the night
And if you think you've won
You never saw me change
The game that we have been playing

I've seen diamonds cut through harder men
Than you yourself
But if you must pretend
You may meet your end

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you willing to die?

The coldest blood runs through my veins

Try to hide your hand
Forget how to feel
(Forget how to feel)

Life is gone with just a
spin of the wheel
(Spin of the wheel)

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you ready to die?

The coldest blood runs through my veins
You know my name
You know my name
You know my name
You know my name
You know my name
You know my name
You know my name

I'm hoarse from singing (read screaming) it all the time but I'm still far from being tired of it.
And now the video :

If you haven't seen Casino royale yet - at least you now know what you're missing.

Frankly, I can't wait for the all new 22nd Bond film 'Quantum of Solace' releasing in about a month or two. EON pushed forward the British date to 31 October during filming, while the American date was pushed back in August to 14 November. God knows when it'll be released here in India.

And now to end today's blog I have a lighthearted parody of the new film from youtube again. Hope you guys liked it as much as I did.

It made me laff.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMoJRLStD9c

Nonsense verses poetry

2008-08-21T10:55:00.000+05:30

Among writers in English noted for nonsense verse are Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, Ogden Nash, Mervyn Peake, Colin West, Roald Dahl, Dr. Seuss and Spike Milligan. The Martian Poets and Ivor Cutler are considered by some to be in the nonsense tradition.

Enter me...proud to follow the path drawn out by such great great men. The title as some may have already noticed, tries rather pathetically to make an insipid wordplay pun out of the words 'verses' and 'versus'. That's how lame I can get sometimes.

Let me start with a slightly Dadaist poem which I think is the most unusual (even by my surprisingly high standards of unusualness) of the lot of 4. I wrote it in a deluded state when I was reminded of the 'nutritional information' on the containers of many processed foodstuffs, because that did really inspire the creation of this truly fascinating piece of literature:

Contains added flavours

Man - poisoned with excess zinc thiosulphate,
swollen, fell into a vat of
boiling, syrupy, red tomato ketchup.
The bottle with its natural added flavors
had on its packaging-
zinc - trace amounts.

The next poem 'Toothpick' points out (I'm serious now - no jokes, honest) the rebellious side of human character, non-conformity and shattering of stereotypes.
A polished son of a wealthy socialite swaggers into a formal dinner attired in 'perfectly shocking' denims and holding a toothpick in his teeth - this image from my mind's eye will help put this poem into the right context.

Toothpick

With a toothpick held in my mouth,
I flash a smile with it sticking out.
With a piece of wood lodged between my teeth,
I chew on it like its a piece of meat.
With a slender splinter under my tongue,
I whistle a tune which I had once sung.
With a thin little stick with my lips around,
I shock everybody in the elite snob crowd.

Well the next is poem titled 'Le poem'.I don't know if there are any grammatical errors as far as the usage of French is concerned or whether to expect a death threat from a lingual purist. It is what I call, a unique blend of French, English and temporary insanity.

Le poem

Cher
Boulanger
My order,
tu accorde.
Mais le pain
sits in vain.

Classy, innit ? French - the languge of love, trodden on pretty ruthlessly by the stampede of my creative inflow.

The last one now, 'The thought...' wants to send a message that even though everyone desires success and prominence in the society, very few people are willing to work for it. That is all I wish to say on this subject... :D

The thought at quarter past midnight

On the diwan with pen in hand,
I think of something so amazing to write,
that will propel me into the pages of history
- to attain money, power and fame.
But alas! I need my sleep, I bid my thoughts goodnight.

Now I wish to ask for a favour - would the readers be kind enough so as to rate my poems (so-called, but their still mine). Though I don't personally believe in rating creativity and view it as crude form of judgement, I believe I deserve a little chin-upping (or downing - which depends on your ratings).
Rate them on a scale of ten with each of these as seperate criteria - Humour, level of insanity and publication worthiness.
For instance a rating of 1,9,0 would mean I'm an incredibly unfunny, insane person whose poems would do rather nicely on my asylum's notice board.

Really looking forward (!) to your comments.

And that has made all the difference.

2008-08-20T18:30:00.000+05:30

This is an excerpt from a poem (well, the poem) by Robert Frost :

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

And there I still remain standing.....

It's not the last line; but this means so much more to me. It defines daily life - the conflict between right and wrong, between morals, ethics and whether to say yes or to say no.

What matters is not just my happiness - its pride, success and more importantly, things which can't be put into words.

For this, a thousand times over

2008-08-14T15:37:00.000+05:30

A heady, enchanting mixture of curses, yells and kitesperanto issuing from his lips. It was awe-inspiring to watch.

Bursting with life, tugging at the thin long thread vanishing into the sky, he had the bright autumn sun as his background. The moment was captured in my eyes to remain forever.

I was a spectator that day - I couldn't fly kites even if my life depended on it.

The light green kite - which was ours - looked the prettiest in the azure sky, dancing with each deft pull of my cousin's fingers, but then again beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

The kite is mine, not because it is beautiful - It is beautiful because it is mine. The same could be said for love. Someone loves a girl not because she is beautiful. No, not at all. She is beautiful (for him) because he loves her.

We felt like kings of the world, standing triumphantly (for no good reason) atop the deserted four-storey building. In those marvelous moments, we had not a care in the world - the past did not matter nor did the future, for this was what was to be lived - the glorious present.

Cliched but oh-so-true.

A war of kites was raging high above, too far for me to get involved. But my cousin - his eyes shone with a madness that I could associate with no emotion I had the fortune of experiencing before. It was pure pure ecstasy. And the freshness of youth which seemed to say - 'I can do anything in the world !'.

It was magical.

Maybe this was what independence meant.

The Empty Gun

2008-08-11T17:53:00.000+05:30

Well here's the poem I mentioned in my first post (that you'd know if you'd read it - I mean you, Rish). I worked quite a lot on it until I got frustrated and could stand the mention of the word 'improve' (as is dictated in the poet charter). Well I've reproduced it here so I'd be rather obliged if someone ( i.e ; anyone, as I want to get feedback pertaining to such poetry) has anything at all to say that could help me improve on my litterati. Here goes -

Empty Gun

An empty gun,

Like an empty promise

Can do much to decieve.

Never too early to use one,

Never to late to recieve.

The woman who I loved once,

Was at the balcony, creeping

When I saw her go.

Moving silently, cautiously,

Moving oh-so slow

The mellow tone of my voice

took on a threatening pitch

"What do you think you're doing now with those trunks at your side ?

Leaving me, is it ?

Then also leave my money inside."

She seemed rather startled

And she quietly looked below

A case lay beside her, and without a doubt

In her haste and hurried work,

Few money notes were sticking out.

Caught off-guard, she wasn't going down

Drew out a blade at once.

The girl had prepared for it.......

An expert of the martial arts.

A melee - she wasn't scared of it.

I was a cautious person too.

A lone man in a huge mansion needs security.

Took out a pistol from my pocket

Light-It wasn't right...no bullets, an empty gun.

But I could still butt it throw or sock it.

No, she would kill me before that -

An empty gun,

I need to use it but how ?

Then a thought slowly crept within...

What she doesn't know could hurt her now.

An empty gun, like an empty mind

Is a very dangerous thing.

Deemed by most as devoid of uses,

It can give the upper hand

In the deadliest of deuces.

"Now leave the money right there

and just back off, OK ?"

Said I, and pointed the gun to her head.

"I don't want it messy.

Go away now" I said.

She was shocked to see my weapon

Her eyes betrayed her calm face.

"I-I'm leaving you ___ and I'm taking some money as well"

"You're stealing, you damn thief !" I cut in.

That made her as mad as hell.

She threw her dagger at me,

With all her might but little aim.

It missed me by a mile.

"Ha !" I laughed out

"You're all mine now" I said with a smile.

I still pointed the gun at her

And advanced with delicate steps.

Stopped when I was a few feet

away, and the gun inches from her.

She would still not make a retreat.

She started backing out now

with slow and trembling steps.

"Don't kill me" she cried.

Still with valise in hand,

she fell over the balcony and died.

---****-****---

I called the ambulance

much later than I called the cops.

I had enough money to handle both -

Enough for the police to mishandle evidence,

Ample for the diener to renounce the doctoral oath.

An empty gun like an fallen ganglord,

Can still hold much power.

Power that is still immense.

Power to turn the tables,

power to influence......

I pondered much later,

the events of the day.

The mode of death the girl deserved, she got.....

And then slightly satisfied -

Atleast my gun didn't have to waste a shot.

There. It's a little long isn't it ?( like most of my other poems). Do comment if you like it, and suggest alternatives if you don't - even if the post becomes dated. C'mon - please.

Anything is welcome as long is it is not an indication of the reader's imbecility.

'But it rained' ---- Parikrama

2008-08-10T17:09:00.000+05:30

Swirling heat was rising up from the baked summer earth cruelly mocking its habitants ....

And up in the sky a cloud could take it no longer - It broke apart and the earth was blessed with rain.

All this time, I was sitting at home trying to while away a rare power outage, cursing my dependence on machines (as I am cursing right about now). I picked up a dynamo powered radio (hand-crunk) and turned it on. Most of the (popular) stations blared fizzed-up remixes and pseudo - hip-hop. I switched to AIR and was pleased to find one of my favourite old Hindi songs playing. It was 'Main shayar toh nahin' by Shailendra Singh [I used to think Mukesh sang it, you know - Mukesh (JG's granpa)] . I began listening at that climactic moment when Singh croons

"Main toh uljha raha uljhanon ki tarah ,

Doston mein raha dushmanon ki tarah....

Main dushman toh nahin"

The rain was wetting the plant pots with vengeance and my dog became restless as was its habit when it rained. It wished to wallow in the cool rainwater outside in the patio - I let it and joined Zoulo as it whooshed past my legs.

I could understand why rain had become such a integral symbolic aspect in so many film sequences (I forgot which ones - help me out here) in the past and the present.

Sad scenes were incomplete without a downpour as tears mingled with rainwater and get washed away....The anguished sufferer is left desolate in the rain in a pitiable state.

Happy sequences had showers of rain to signify an outburst of joyous and exuberant emotions.

Fight scenes needed rain to wash away blood and sweat when the hero and villain were engaged in free-for-all fisticuffs.

Romantic settings could not do without drizzles to illustrate the lovers' unity against adversity. To show their love and intimacy, they would be shown huddled under a single umbrella (or better still with no umbrella at all - but embracing each other and carefree in the the downpour).

Suspense and horror movies had accompanying thunder and lightning to go along with them, to intensify the drama and to induce that 'edge of the seat' effect, if not overdone (if overdone, it tends to be a bit irksome).

And dance sequences...( :D)

Put bluntly the same rules for romantic scenes apply and....rain makes clothes figure -hugging (!), which goes very well with hot numbers.

Being such a harried multitasker the rain is still kind enough to raise my spirits on a boring day such as this.Here's my thanks.

First : Even Stranger

2008-08-06T14:46:00.000+05:30

After school the other day, I cut a detour to the park, right from the bus stop, along with the bag and all. It had been an unusual day, with the frequency of unusual days experiencing a sharp increase over the past few weeks in my new section. What had really made me feel rather awkward were numerous small things such as the fact that silently studious ( and some rather boring ) new admissions way more than half the class; the fact that even though I wanted to , I failed to pluck the courage to make new connections, even though I had the psychological confidence-booster of being an ol' boy and they being new adms.

The fact that I felt largely out of place among my new classmates and friend base. Their language was riddled with innuendo ; their jokes - as they believe them to be - were full of tasteless double-entendres and unfamiliar slang.

You could in fact call my presence a learning experience ( albeit a horrid one ) with me learning new words every day.

To take some time out from the day's fast-paced idiocy I sat on one of the park's many vacant benches in the lush green park covering approximately two acres of land ( I think its three times as big as the school football field ) . It was right beside a temple with a towering Hanuman statue; Beautiful as it was I didn't really care much for temples - I am an agnostic theist ( that's another thing that worried me - If God really exists and I didn't believe completely in him my whole life, I'd be in HELLuva lot of trouble when I die. ) but I always fancied the nicely maintained park attached. Though occasional litter was a bit disconcerting, this is Delhi after all - not utopia. Delhi is close I agree but not completely what one would expect from paradise.

With some quiet stolen time ( I managed to put away the annoying thought of studying for the 100 marks maths test to be held on Monday. Maths was too off-putting . I had still not managed to convince anyone that psychology was way better ). I proceeded to take a much battered note pad from my bag ( which I always carried around ) & sought to improve upon an earlier poem which I had written - 'Empty Gun' .The bad poetry with its skewed rhyme scheme (A B C D C )needed correcting, but at the risk of sounding immodest the idea was really good ( its about a guy who manages to kill his ex using an empty gun ).After a few minutes of pondering for an elusive ( and exclusive ) word to rhyme with 'unworthy' ( I got earthy but it didn't fit in ), I gave in and decided to sit still and just soak in nature ( undoubtedly the easiest thing to do ).

I noticed a young guy (from the northeast - I noted from his features ) was studying me intensely from across the park. Though he was a stranger I now felt completely off guard and cursed him mentally for ruining "me time". Within a jiffy I noticed that the starer had approached my bench and was looking at the still open notebook. I was startled when I realised that he had been standing there for a long time and said (lied most probably ) 'nice - very nice'.

Taken off guard, I managed a fake smile.

We began speaking to each other next he got to know about me ( kid , 16 , strange , DPS ) and I him ( 19 , from Darjeeling , works in Hyatt regency as a chef in a Chinese restaurant named - how sordid - China Garden ). He invited my family over as if he owned the place which was childlike but nevertheless was touching.He told me about his schooldays with a nostalgic sigh in his voice and a dreamy glaze over his wide eyes. He did Arts in 12th and passed from a local school with 56 % ( which he tried to convince me was a decent score ).

He spoke with anger in his voice about the 'bloody' state government which he berated for not giving government positions to hill people from Darjeeling districts. He then handed me a pamphlet which had ' Gorkhaland Jansakti ' written on it in bold blue letters. He then cheesily urged my dad to come for a 'samm-aye-lan' (conference ) . It was intended to educate the people about the injustices done to Gorkhas.I took the pamphlet from his hands and lied that I'd convince my parents to go.It was his off day and my time off was nearing its end.

It was 3:30 and I was a late. As I stood up from the cool grass to go , I remembered to ask his name.' Dipankar ' he said smiling ' you can come discuss life with me on any Tuesday ! '

Its one thing having an hour-long talk with a friend ...but with a complete stranger - its something else. Try it out it wont kill you . honest

There !! My first ( and rather long too ) blog completed. Comment to make me feel better.