Wednesday, 29 April 2009

and divine chastisement follows...

Resource is a man made creation as utilisation of it depends solely on mankind. Man is constantly endeavouring to create new resources while experimenting with resistances and neutral stuff so that even they can be utilised to accelerate development. It is man’s demands that are the forces behind development and this effort shall be interminable.

In short, we mortals are a greedy lot.

And castigation follows our gluttony.

Adam and Eve was a fine couple, they could do whatever they had to do in peace and harmony with nature. But then Adam had to have that apple and since then the male mankind has to deal with the lump in their throat. Cronus could have been living happily ever after with Rhea and the kids but he chose to gulp them down and thus the poor Zeus had to do many thingummies and ultimately see his brothers and sisters getting puked out alive. Gross. Shilpa Shetty shouldn’t have bought the winning team. Rajasthan Royals would have fared well so far without her. She can’t distinguish between IPL and Big Brother. (Though at times neither can I find much difference) Muthalik shouldn’t have been tempted with pink chaddis. Now he will unleash his fangs on pub goers again to get some more of the bright essentials, and them sell them to make himself cosy with a blooming chaddi business.

Moral of the stories: I should have studied hard to get the marks I hanker after. Then I wouldn’t have had to efface my Orkut account from the public world to save me from the impending embarrassment.

I rest my case.

Monday, 27 April 2009

End of a morbid past (perhaps)

Ever since class nine, almost everyday my life at 2 pm would reduce to a bullock cart chase and then a ride on a huge jalopy with my arms swinging on the rods, perpendicular to each other. Had I looked different many would have considered me to be pole dancer doing her thing in a crowded bus. Bus route 235 had defined me quite well, it proved me that I am short and hence would have to carry out gymnastics and other stunts in front of bewildered co- passengers. For once the fact that I am thin paid me. I would be able to squeeze in between well-tiered aunties. I also had this obnoxious habit of thinking that someone was pinching from my bag when I would be inversely batting on the rod in a miraculously awkward position.

It also made me realise that the bus was the modern day wooing ground for all my school going desperate fellows. The rather cute chick would perch herself up on the seat; (these chicks would amazingly find seats in a crowded bus. Man, they were smart!) The lanky boy with a fair-and-handsome face and a goatish beard would stare wide eyed with a flossed smile while the girl would giggle gleefully till perpetuity. The boy would almost look like a salivating puppy. I wonder what they’d gawk at so much. But I guess they are just like me.

I have also been the victim of gallons of puke, not once but thrice. Nowadays I avoid sitting beside such perpetually excreting broods. And of course every single girl in the bus has been a victim to that clan of men who have an excessively uncontrollable libido and perennially ogling eyes, though I have not come under their scrutiny much mercifully, I’ve seen quite a few coming under the scanner. It must be some sort of a malady. They must have had very strict mothers when they were young and blooming and hence couldn’t do a bit of the thingummy that is so vital and indispensable for the budding men.

I would usually pass my time in the jalopy looking outside instead of taking note of my co-passengers like most do. My nonchalant attitude was often chastised by the conductors because I would ignore their calls for ticket. Most likely, my journey in 235 has come to an end. I am glad though I will miss the bus. It brought some excitement to my lackadaisical life. But then, I have this hunch that I will have to hop onto the same bus and go through this same process when I get into college.

Monday, 20 April 2009

An affair to remember :|

Its always a trifle sad when a long- drawn famous affair comes to an end. Like, when Brad Pitt and Aniston broke up, the repercussions were felt by many, though mostly by Jolie. I have been having this little affair for the last three years and now finally the break- up has been concluded.

I have deleted my Orkut account. So I request you all to maintain one second of silence for this disaster that has struck my life.

Sunday, 19 April 2009


Perfection is a Utopian ideal. You wake up, take a rather foamy bath in the tub singing ‘sonny boy’ like Bertie Wooster, or play with the old rubber duck, Take a leisurely hour choosing the right thing to wear, and gazing at the mirror to see where the tummy is at the present moment, and all is perfect. Till you get late for whatever that you are supposed to do, and then ultimately screw up the whole day, returning home groggy and tired and absolutely down and out.

For some other people like us, we jump out of the bed almost at the eleventh hour, cursing the provision for ‘snooze’ in the cell phone, have a bath that does nothing to take out the morning stink, counter it with lots of good deodorants, have a breakfast of assorted crumbs and leftovers, and we are on time, if not early, for whatever we are doing. In the end we return home as happy as a tipsy birdie, and enjoy life.

These words of wisdom were illustrated in my sister’s t-shirt. They are the new philosophers.

Saturday, 11 April 2009


It’s customary that the death of all things evil must be celebrated with extra fervour. Even if you haven’t really killed the evil spirit, and even if it has committed its notorious crimes, its withering away must be fĂȘted. It calls for an undying gusto to mark ones success for not letting the evil draw out your soul like a leech on a feeble body. It marks the triumph of not yielding to the mighty conqueror that sets upon the soil to drain life from its natives. The evil cages us into dark and damp cells from where we can never see a glimmer of hope, or conceive any desire that goes against the conventions. Our spirit is trapped and life reduces to a meaningless chase to oblivion, for in the end, even the best isn’t remotely good. To thwart this evil is almost impossible, as the action of exterminating itself prematurely shall give us harsher punishment. But the brave conquer it, without being afraid of its upshots. The fight is not for the weaklings.

Yes, exams are over. I have conquered it without losing any weight. And if you think that I am being over dramatic, then go and watch Prosenjit.

Tuesday, 7 April 2009

Shoe mantra

After an unprecedented action taken by the Iraqi journalist who famously threw shoes at George Bush, the idea is being lifted and plagiarised a bit too often across the globe. A few minutes ago a very calm and composed P. Chindambaram turned out to be a victim of the shoe- game. The shoe was not aimed correctly and hence unlike the Bush stunt, it did not do anything to test Chidambaram's reflexes. But he dealt with it rather nicely, smiling and requesting the guards who took the man away, to treat him gently. A gentlemanly reception to a not- so benign action. Propagating the gandhigiri mantra, it'll make Munnabhai proud. But frankly speaking I couldn't see any reason why the shoe was hurled. But such actions lessen the significance of what happened in Iraq. I mean, shoes should be particularly reserved to hit the bird (brain) in the Bush. Anyway, such sights are always good fodder for entertainment. It has already become the breaking news of the channels, who are at a dilemma whether to show the shoe-hurling process or the press meet, and hence is showing both, that looks funny because they have "LIVE" written and it ostensibly seems that its raining shoes on the Home Minister. But I do wish it happened to Muthalik, shoe being replaced by something else; or Varun Gandhi or the likes. Chindambaram is one of those rare souls who are the saving graces of Indian politics. He speaks well and atleast looks honest. Now that is rare. But anyway, a rather entertaining press meet.