Category Archives: Life

Ain’t Life a Bitch?

Sentiman

My biggest turn off (after bad breast and bad spellin’, that is) is senti. And right now, it seems like senti is definitely in the air!

First, this guy has gone senti over how he has just about a month left before his beloved hostel and college life comes to a still end.

Then there’s this guy (the author points to himself) who’s pretty much feeling the same because of pretty much the same reason. Although he never had a hostel life so he’d probably not miss that one. The rest remains the same however.

I’ve spent the last five years in Indore. Its exactly the same time which I spent in Bhopal before I moved to Indore. Is it mere coincidence or jinx? Only time will tell. But what I know, as of now, is that I’ll never be more senti than now in the coming few years.

Just like high school, college is an experience to live for. It taught me a lot: love, hate, adjustments, compromises, betrayals, wins, losses. It also taught me how to pass an exam using the least possible effort, but that’s an altogether different matter. College taught me to accept victories humbly and to face defeats triumphantly.

College gave me friends. Phony and real. College also taught me to differentiate between the two. Just like all of you, even I found some of the nicest people on this earth sitting next to me in my class or waving hysterically to me in the parking. Some also followed me all the way to the canteen only to amuse themselves while I dated their respective crushes. And I wrote the previous line only to amuse myself.

Today, in canteen over a cup of cutting chai, I asked a friend if he was feeling senti over leaving this place. He gave a very politically correct answer: he wouldn’t miss the place (the college, hostel, city, canteen etc) but he’d miss the friends he made here. He called them ‘friends for life’.

I could somehow foresee that whatever he was saying wasn’t coming completely from his heart. Deep down I knew he would miss the place – the college campus, the classes, the canteen, hostel, and the city. What he wouldn’t miss would be the ‘friends for life’ that he made here, because they’ll be his friends for life. You dont miss something that you already have, you miss some thing that you dont have anymore. He will miss the place. And so would each one of us.

I will miss this place.

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Juiced Up!

A lot has been happening over the last few days.

India won the Inaugural ICC World Twenty20 Championship. Please note that is what it is officially called. Its not twenty20 World Cup. We did not bring back the World Cup back to India after 24 years. We brought the First ICC World Twenty20 Championship home. So that’s a good thing.

India’s run in the tournament was quite a fairytale story, which I’m sure all of you know. So there’s no point in repeating it all over again. But the Grand finale was nothing short of a nail biting, goose bumping, hyper thrilling adventure. We won with 3 balls and five runs to spare. What followed was creation of a history, a whimsical dance involving the Singhs of Team India – RP, Harbhajan, Yuvraj and Mahendra – quite literally, and the most hilarious comments of the tournament showdown. These were:

  • Shoiab Malik wanting to thank Muslims throughout the world.
  • Shahid Afridi congratulating the Indian Nations for winning the match, cup and the long lost love of their countrymen and money god.

But it didn’t end there. This was again followed by some of the most dramatic and emotionally charged remarks by the winning captain, MS Dhoni, who prefers being called a skipper over a captain.

Also present to cheer them up were two kings. The King of bollywood and the King of good times (and an F1 team). While SRK dropped no catches while sporting the Michael Jackon look and Om Shanti Om T-shirt (and he also made the most politically correct remark ever made by a bollywood actor in Johannesburg: ‘I am here to support my country’s young team who have played really well in this tournament, who are playing against another team who have also done pretty well.’ Dammit! That explains Shoaib Malik’s remarks. Perhaps he was just trying to be politically correct, or perhaps his English sucks.)

While SRK was busy hugging our victorious young guns, Vijay Mallya was busy in taking a few marketing decisions with Sharad Pawar. Here’s how it went.

SP: Air India Sucks. We want Kingfisher to be our official airliner. This way our boys would not have to freak out in foreign pubs looking for foreign chics.

VM: That would be just great. But we’re not allowed to fly international.

SP: Dont worry about that. Prafull Patel will look into it. He’s my man!

VM: Great! Speaking of which, I so want to fuck that Olympic Association guy’s ass. What’s his name?

SP: I dont know. Dalmiya? Or is it Kalmadi? Dont worry about them. Both would be taken care of. Tell me what have you got for me?

VM: Oh… I had to leave in a hurry. So I got you something from the duty-free store at the Airport. I hope that would be fine.

SP: Yeah sure. Suck up.

Meanwhile, the boys had a warm (and kinda wet) reception back in the country where they were taken for a ride. The skipper again had some memorable words for the media (this guy has so much to offer other than his hair!). At the center of it, the folks in the hockey camp couldn’t bear any of it. Apparently, some of them along with their coach have decided to go on a hunger strike to protest against the step-motherly treatment given to them and their sport.

Now I agree with them, partly. That their sport is getting a step-motherly treatment. But why do you want to compare dal fry with murgh afghani? Besides being a matter of preference, it has another important matter associated with it, (i.e. chicken). Now jokes apart, dal is our indigenously accepted national dish, just like hockey. We all love dal and we think of it most of the times we’re hungry. Just like we think of a hockey stick most of the time we’re hungry (for blood). But we go to hotel to eat murgh afgani. It costs more, and more importantly others pay for it while we eat it. That’s pretty much like cricket.

  1. It generates good income. So good that America might just attack us for it.
  2. We dont win very often. But cash inflow is on a regular basis. So, the few times when we win, we deserve a murgh afghani. Please note the rhetoric.
  3. And also because cricket could get over the menace of Dalmiya, while hockey still sucks up to Gill.

However, Hockey is not the only thing Indian Cricket is helping to get its share of attention. The others include Pakistani boys who are either thrown out of the team because of loss of form, or because they beat the shit out of other players. Two Pakistani cricket players, Mohd Yousuf and Shoaib Akhtar triumphantly claimed they had delicious ICL Murgh Afghani offers, but both declined because they wanted to play and eat for their country. Yeah sure! If that fails, you can take either the singing route or the siachen route to infiltrate in my country. We love you singing plagiarized songs for us. We also love to shoot you in your ass and then make Sunny Deol and Suniel Shetty movies about it.

Besides this, there has been so much in the last few days. Long story short. Here’s a list.

  • I am enjoying The Office so much that I cant explain. I saw the entire season 3 and would see the first episode later today, as soon as it gets on youtube.
  • I bought two books. I got Shantaram, which was in my wishlist for more than an year now. And I also got an Agatha Christie book to bring myself in the zone, since I didnt read anything in six months. The Agatha Christie book will now be read after Shantaram is done and through with.
  • I am having weird dreams involving anacondas, crocs, sex, archbishops and one of the girls in my college. Also I dont feel hungry very often.
  • I took three IQ tests. All confirmed my IQ to be between 129-135, which is slightly better than when it was last checked two years ago (126). This can also be verified by reading some of the posts that I wrote two years ago. Anyway, for the record, it is 35% higher than an average American’s IQ, and close to 60% higher than Indian average. Hmm.
  • Also, I am seriously working on a list of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever done. I hope to get it done before I write my next post, which by the way, will be soon enough.

So here it is. My best post ever. Just like I promised you. Or did I? Never mind.

This is fiction.

“Excuse me! Do you mind?”

“Oh! Sorry.”

“Hey! Its you!”

“Yeah… Good to see you too.”

“Same here. So, whats up? what have you been up to? Long time since we me met? What? About an year?”

“Yeah. Just about an year. What have you been up to?”

“Ohh dont ask. I’ve been through hell in the last one year. Its a long story.”

“I have all the time…”

“I’m sure you have. But first tell me where the hell have you been?”

“I have been traveling.”

“Traveling where?”

“Here and there.”

“And where have you been living?”

“In the woods.”

“What?”

“Never mind. You were saying something?”

“Yeah. I was saying I’ve been through hell. Life has been pretty much on the rocks. Especially since dad passed away.”

“How long has it been?”

“Three hundred and sixty-four days. You know.”

“Hmm.”

“Life has sort of taken a U turn. Nothing seems to make sense. I am very worried about how things will go ahead.”

“Dont worry you’ll be fine. I assure you.”

“Thanks. ”

“So, what brings you here? Bored of normal life?”

“Yes. That, and I went to Tirupati.”

“Good. I never expected you to travel to lord’s shrine. Alone.”

“I never expected you to show up here. I had been looking for you for quite some time now.”

“I know.”

“So, what have you been doing lately?”

“I said I’ve been traveling. You are still pretty absent minded and redundant. Just like before. You never listened to what I or anybody said!”

“Did you?”

“No”

“That’s it. I have my moments.”

“How was your Tirupati Trip? Any special purpose?”

“Yeah. Sort of.”

“Ok. So are you planning to visit again?”

“Yeah I’d love to. If everything goes by the plan, perhaps in the next one year.”

“I am finding a drastic change in you. Does this mean you have finally started taking responsibility?”

“I am not the judge here.”

“How are the folks at Indore?”

“They’re good. We talk about you.”

“How often?”

“Quite often.”

“Okay.”

“You want me to say hello to them? On your behalf, of course.”

“I’ll catch up with them. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“Hey, my destination is here. I’ll have to get going.”

“What? Wait! How do I contact you? Your cell phone’s been switched off for an year!”

“You’ll have to rely on rendezvous like today only. I’ll be kind of busy anyway.”

“But…?”

“And yes, Happy New Year!”

“Yeah but why now? Its still two days. Aren’t you gonna call me?”

“Uhm.. I’ll try, of course. But I just dont want to miss it.”

“Like you did last year?”

“Like I did last year.”

“Okay. Happy new year to you too.”

“This has a whole new meaning. I gotta go now!”

“But where do you live? I’ll come to see you if you cant come. Tell me where do you stay?”

“There’s a bridge. Of wood. Yeah… A bridge of wood.”

“‘Bridge of Wood’. What a weird place to stay! Lakdi ka pool?”

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Lakdi ka pool! Idharich Utarneka hey na tumareko?”

“Huh?”

“Sir, would you like a vegitarian breakfast? Or Non-veg?”
“Is it free?”
“Yes, its included in the fare.”

This was the first time I was travelling aboard the New-Delhi – Bhopal Shatabdi Express, then the fastest train in India (140 kmph). This was way back in 1999, and I remember the embarrassed look on Aai’s face when I had asked that stupid question.

Seven years later.

“Excuse me? Here.”
“Yes sir?”
“Can I have some extra soup?”
“Certainly. That would be Rs. 50 only.”
“What? But I thought it was included in the fare?”
“Umm… Not for the second time.”

This was the last (as in, previous) time I was travelling aboard the New-Delhi – Bhopal Shatabdi Express, still the fastest train in India (150 kmph). This was yesterday and I’m trying to forget the embarrassed look on the steward’s face.

Thank goodness Aai was not around this time.

Holi-Day

So, Finally I’m back after a very interesting, exhaustive, and adventurous Yatra. I had never ever imagined that my maiden trip to my village would be such a cherish-worthy experience. Though I had already made my mind for blogging about my trip, I never knew I would be so more-than-glad to write about it. Meeting and interacting with our roots is such a pleasure!

The primary reason why I was in Bamnod (pronounced Balm-nod, Balm as in Zandu Balm) was to get my ears pierced. Not that there aren’t any jewellers in Indore, or that I’m becoming such a despo to get that 90-kg-metrosexual-dude look. Every male in our casht is supposed to get his ears pierced, otherwise he cannot marry any girl (nor any guy, obviously).

This ceremony is usually done at an age when guys are just too small to remember anything about it. But since we’re Sheher wale log, we dont usually find time to do such things until its just about marriage time.

The ceremony was conducted without much technical (and otherwise) flaws, and the piercing part was not that torturous. In fact, it didnt hurt at all. The only torture, if I may call it, was to bend five hundred odd times for getting the blessings of all the people. This is aptly considered half-a-marriage, with band-baaja and all in place, and our baraat roaming around aimlessly in the entire village. All this without a Bride is not justified, hai na?

The meal was a very simple village-food-type lunch which was inappropriately served at 9:30 am. Since it is Brinjal and Banana season, Vaangey chi Bhaaji was served with 10 inch diameter chapatis, and dal-bhaat. All this on Banana Leaves (Remember: Banana Season). The food was prepared for-the-villagers-by-the-villagers (sounds too similar to the Constitution of Indian Republic, or HBO Movies, aint it?), but damn tasty, and served suppa hawt.

Village Trivia 1 : The contributions must be made according to this formula
Contri = Rs {(10 * n) + 1} where n = 0,1,2,3 …

Village Trivia 2 : Keep your savings in the lockers. An educated villager once tried to keep the money in Bank, but the cashier gave the money to someone else in from of his very own eyes.

Village Trivia 3 : My great great Grandfather is worshiped in Bamnod.

Village Trivia 4 : Credit card is magical gizmo which hides your money in a black colored strip.

Village Trivia 5 : A SmartPhone (like N-3220) can also be used as a phone.

The return trip was more adventurous than anything before – even the ear piercing stuff. My scheduled plan was to return to Indore in a bus overnight and leave for Bhopal in the morning. But due to Holi and some RTO problem, no bus was plying on the Inter-state route – not even the (low on cost, maintainance and morale but high on service) red colored Maharashtra ST buses. So I had to go to Bhusawal junction in an unreserved coach in Navjeewan Express; wait on Bhusawal railway station for 6 unpleasant hours, and then board Lucknow Super Express for Bhopal directly. It feels rather good to explore your country by being among the common men, and not just enjoying the cozy sleeper coach of an air conditioned bus. But, of course, not always!

I stayed in Bhopal for two days (54 hours to be exact), the longest in the last one year. Most of the time went leisurely, but finally the work for which I went there was done. And also in bonus, i got two days with aai 🙂 Volvo is very closed. very good and efficent no doubt, but very closed. I feel very uncomfortable without the natural air coming in from the window. So I returned to Indore in a cab. Risky, but enjoyable.

Back in Indore, I’m surrounded by a new controversy. Last time it was the moustache; this time, its the earrings 😉 La la la lala

P.S. Though the viewership of my blog is reducing exponentially, I got a appreciative mail from an old friend yesterday. Robin wrote, and I quote:

” More than fame and more than money
Is the comment kind and sunny ,
And the warm approval of a friend.

For it gives to life a savour ,
And it makes us stronger, braver ,
Yes, it gives us heart and courage to the end.

If he earns your praise, bestow it ;
If you like him , let him know it;
Let the words of true encouragement be said.

Do not wait till life is over
And he’s underneath the clover,
For he cannot read the tombstone
when he’s dead. ”

So True. Thank you!

Room Service

Ok. So I’m supposed to wake up at four and write Principles and Practices of Management. But what I’m doing is that I’m actually implementing all the practices of management that I had learnt just because I had completely forgotten this when I had set the alarm last night – I’m debarred from giving the freaking test!
WordPress
So what if nobody gives a damn to this, but I feel its my responsible duty to inform all my patient readers why I moved here – jeopardizing my (blog’s) popularity on blogspot and move in search of greener pastures. Well, Carnivores are supposed to be nomadic. Aren’t they? I mean what if all the meat finishes at some place by the end of the century and all the news channels start broadcasting the helpline numbers for bird flu which has come to the nearest town? I guess the carnivore must go ahead and look forward in life.
Simultaneously, some people didn’t approve of my old blog’s popularity. They accused me of writing personal shyt and frustoo-loaded posts to gain popularity (in contrast to their lesser known non-personal ‘Sunrise’ kind of blog’s infamous identity). Maybe some people must realise that the content is worthier than their good-for-nothing vocabulary which contains incomprehensible words like ‘sceptical’, ‘brimming’, ‘exemplifying’ etc etc. So, moral of the story – welcome to wordpress, though it’ll take some time for you to regain your mantle here, but thou shalt kick everyone’s goddam a$$.
Debarred
Yas baby, I dids it!
After a prolonged illness of more than one semester, I’m back to the old. Yesterday it was announced that I was debarred from giving the internals in at least two subjects – PPM (4/9) and SAD (7/13). Dont panic if you dont understand what these abbreviations mean (even I dont). So many might think that i’m just doing it all deliberately to showcase my eight point attitude (*ahem* Yes I am, thank you!), but its not really like this. Now lets hope the BF (supposed to be Batch Facilitator, but you are free to make your own dirty meanings) considers my case and allows me to appear. Highly unlikely though.
(Added Later)
I came to know during the day that I’m not being debarred from giving the internals. Apparently the BF was impressed by the services I had rendered (includes re-filling their water bottles and bringing two freaking bottles of cola from the market – not canteen – MARKET – for the two of them. And then also returning the left over change to them as a mark of courtesy). So there are the following advantages:
  1. I get to appear in the internals. This will boost my studious image, which has now become a synonym with the moochh.
  2. The appreciation which I recieved for my notes (read: Of the notes and bullshyt) will finally be of some use to me.
  3. I get to teach ‘her’ (again). Other way round, I’ll study. So this would definitely help in making a good impression over her. It must be reminded that the level of study, or intelligence, or hardwork, or all of it put together – does not effect your grades.
And the disadvantages:
  1. I get to appear in internals. It will be no good because in any case I’ll be appearing in defaulters for self-improvement (strategy changed # since 5th sem).
  2. It has been observed in the past that appreciation done by hardcore enemies is either sign of love, or conspiracy. The chances of the former are juz juz juz zero.
  3. So I teach her again, and then she brings better grades than me again, and then one day she says this: “I dont like people calling me everyday“.

But hell… I’m giving the test.

Of the notes and bullshyt

So baady is really upset because i didnt come to his birthday bash. And more so, I even flunked the dinner plan he had made specially to blast me off with gratitude. Anyway, to finish this matter all for once (awr atlist till his naixt barday), I had to take him to the canteen. And as usual – I became the host. I hope to get the most of my entertainment tax’s returns back on 24th. Its Pandayji’s birthday, and I’m going to suck his card before he runs to Kentucky this summer.

It seems someone’s trying to talk to me. The other day I overheard Miss X (hate her)- who’s like my biggest critic- appreciating my notes, apparently knowing that they were my notes and I hate her and she hates me back. So does this mean we’re heading for a truce? Nah.. I’m just kidding.

Ego

This one is really tricky. You must have faced at least one of them somewhere down the time-line. I had to face this question twice in the last one month. And the million dollar question is:

Ek baat poochhu? Bura to nahi maanoge?

Now how would you react to this question knowing that it is specifically targeted to make you feel like Narain Karthikeyan (I’ve sweared not to use the word ‘loser’ again…). Last month when I was asked this question i had replied:

“Dunno… I may feel bad, but you go ahead nevertheless”.

*Argh* I tell you it hurt me so badly, I was feeling nostalgic for 2-3 days. So when I was asked the same question by another girl yesterday, the void unrequiredUnhealthyHumour () method of my system generated the following output:

“Dunno… I may feel bad. And if it really hurts, then I might just stop calling you all at once. But you go ahead nevertheless”.

It hurt even this time, but when I think of it now, I have a sheepish grin on my face.
Epilogue
I think I’ve already written so much that you’d probably need a leap year for finishing it. Still I’m hopeful I’ll be back with some interesting stuff in the coming days. I can see a promising weekend ahead. Remember: Internals… debarred…

Back To The Lab Again…

“Abe Neta! Ye nakli mooch laga ke college kyo aagaya?”
Ye asli hai bhai.
“Abe? To… Par… Lekin… Abe kintu ye mooch rakhi kyo hai?”
Aise hi. Kyo yaar? Itna issue kyo bana rahe ho?
“Kyoki aap chutiye lag rahe ho bhiya”
Abe ab mooch to rahegi. Tumko aadat daalni padegi aise hi dekhne ki.
“Ab to aadat si hai mujhkoSSooSSoo aise jeene mein…”

Yes its true. Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting before you the latest avatar of Arjun: A good-for-nothing face with a (soon to be) trademark moustache. A person with a keen eye… or perhaps, even without an eye can easily distinguish it from a quarter of a mile. Add to it, the bulky hundred-and-something-something pounds of unladen weight of mine, and I get the first compliment of the day: Yay! Dhoom wale Uncle!!Until yesterday, the naïve next-door kid would address me as ‘Dhoom wale bhaiya jo ek tyre pe wheelie maarte hai’. And today, he was seldom getting confused whether it was me or my father. Next came P, my ex-classmate. She was going somewhere (apparently crossing me in the way), I looked at her, she looked at me, aur ho gayi mushkilaur isi mushkil me aake wo mujhse takra gayi. The moustache was showing its… worthiness. Another one ran into me, and one more almost started running to me. But sometimes, gents’ toilets can be like Robin Singh – Ready to help anytime.

The first time I shaved was way back in ninth class. Since I didn’t had any hair on face to shave then, it was naturally not a very nice experience. Soon after, a fine line of soft hair appeared around my lips. And then after two more patient years, I had considerable hair on my face to make shave a not-so-painful process. But in those two years, I became kind of habitual to the moustache, and so I didn’t give my moustache. It stuck with me for a good three years till that fateful day, when I made a Charlie Chaplin of myself for the School Fate shit. The moustache was gone, and I looked younger. I was about to be a fresher in college. It was high time for me to come out from the white-shirt-steel-grey-trousers-navy-blue-tie-black-shoes-look and get into a metro sexual persona.

Over the next two years, I kept on experimenting with my faces in general. None of them were any good to be worth a pic (Except for the one which is in my orkut profile, and the seedha-saadha one in the passport, and the bandana-clad early man in N’s Birthday party). In the first year, I was mostly cleanly shaved, and then cleanly after shaved. Sometimes, I’d keep a French for a fortnight. The most superhit formula was that of keeping an Italian Beard (which was show-roomed by Suniel Shetty in Kaante), but somehow, I didn’t like it at all.

When it comes to maintenance, I can beat any Indian Airline. So the Italian beard wasted up to the normal gajar-ghaas, and the French beard would soon look like an unguarded fence; Remember Kapil Dev when he cried foul on the Karan Thapar Show on BBC? Yeah, something like that… though not really that bad.

Since then and until recently, I was an irregular customer at the barber’s, and he used to remind me once in every month for a haircut/shave/face-massage/hair-color and all etcetera services which they provide. I quite liked the stubble that Abhishek Bachchan has sported lately, and for the first time they agree with me on this issue.

Papa Kehte the…
My Father was a strong supporter of ‘Save the Moochh’ Campaign. He didn’t have the “moochhe ho to natthulal jaisi” but he used to proudly accept that his were the original moustache (Even without a single shave). He lived with them, and… he lived with them.

So, after a 360-degree flashback tour, we’re back to step 1. Yes, I have a moustache now, and I’m liking it because mooch nahi to koochh nahi (What a loserish reason!)

Epilogue
Sankalp,
No more frustoo-loaded posts, no more the-great-Indian-loser show on Dr. Safety First. Its Max X time, and we’re coming.

that’s when it’s
Back to the lab again yo
This whole rap city
He better go capture this moment and hope it don’t pass him

You better…