Sunday, 31 January 2010

I proclaim thee nerd and geek

It’s one of those mornings when I wake up with a pathetic hangover. I drag myself out from the bed with the blanket trailing behind me like some abnormally weird Cinderella robe. The few strands of hair that remains on my head are attempting an unkempt look. But then a proper unkempt look requires a lot of hair for them to get involved with each other. So I have been saved. My eyes look groggy, can do with a lot of sleep. The effects of a pathetic hangover from a boring dinner it seems.

I sit straight, the bed calling me like a desperate lover. I ask myself the highly philosophical and extremely pertinent question, the answer to which should give me the so called key to success; the effect that guide books of similar names and innovative spellings have when you intend to mug up for a hundred marks on the eleventh hour or later. And then realisation dawns upon me. it brings me the rare hues on my cheeks and the sparkles in my eyes even without my contact lenses. It is intoxicating. Like some virulent shot given through my veins that make me plunge back to life from the dead. Studies. Yes, my friends. Gape at me with disgust as much as you want to. I don’t care. I have found the passion in my life. I enjoy studying. Though it takes a lot of free kicks in the posterior to actually make me sit to do so, but once when I am at it, boy, I am at it. I can sit in libraries for hours and I can bunk classes in the process, and it’s not because the librarians are handsome. (They are not and they happen to be my father’s colleague anyway. Rotten luck.) It’s not that my pedagogic exhibitions have been exemplary. But the fact remains that my passion lies in mugging up, and even understanding some of them. Chide me all of you, if you will. But here I proclaim: I like to study. And no amount of mockery shall deter me from doing so. :|

Friday, 8 January 2010

Lovestruck Romeo Part II (Clue: can't think of a title :|)

Every soul has bit the dust some time or the other. Losing the fluttering heart is one of the easiest things to do, with all the lesson plans elaborately chalked out in so many of the movies. And oh boy, the stringent repercussions are all the more astonishing. I tell you, love and infatuations can make the most stoic person go all weak and wobbly in the knees. With cupid declaring arrow war on many of my friends, I’ve had the chance of some keen scientific observation.

There starts to grow this intense desire to look more decent than before. (Alright I agree that we girls might always have this desire, but then no harm in assigning a cause to it for some people.) The very sight of slightly sentimental movies (barring Jayaprada- Jeetendra ones) render ultimate tear jerking sessions. Sentimental novels become the new Bible, pages often dripping wet by the virtue of human Niagra Falls. Certain songs trigger similar neurotic behaviour. Network failure on behalf of the hapless phone becomes equivalent to some excessively serious embargo brought upon on mankind by Evil Technology and heartless service providers. All of a sudden even the most disastrously sane chick learns a trick or two of acting ultra-girly, while the man’s macho quotient rises real high to a superman like protective manner. Obviously everyone does not have the macho physique but who cares, to those who are blinded by cupid’s aim; every fiery glance towards prospective competitors is like some deadly amreekan missile. And no sane person will ever be able to explain to them that only Rajnikanth can get away with this and how. Every hapless soul of the opposite gender trying to check the object of one’s fascination is, privately in the minds, skilfully loaded with dynamites and blown off into the thin air. Of course such an idea is never expressed in public, where one is the cool dude with at least some iota of attitude.

And then a time may come when the fun of it is lost. Sunsets are no more glorious, riverside never so fresh. And then…. It’s simple. One gets a new object of affection (or for boring souls: rejuvenates the old) :D and thus the romantic and hilarious cycle continues. :P

P.S: Ignore me for the jargon. Got loads of time at home and obviously have got nothing to do. :|

Thursday, 7 January 2010

Lovestruck Romeo

I am to talk about globalisation and the futility of lack of proper negotiations. I think things were pretty decent before. The intellectually inclined Bong would settle for the prestigious Calcutta University tag amidst intellectual talks over a cup of coffee house’s coffee. Then they’d settle for a good old’ job in the city and all that. But now more folks go out of the city to study, and here comes the negotiating skills at play.

If one goes away to a different city leaving his (or her) girl behind (I imply the prized female cow… err… friend; and not daughter. And I vehemently dislike the term girlfraaand for some vague reason.), the bloke will happen to be lightly screwed once he is in the new city. No matter how much the chicks of the new city are famous for their oomph factor; the mind is bound by the fetters of the girl you left behind. This kind of emotional sentiment piled onto the mind by the human psyche is seriously dangerous for the well being of the hapless folk. I mean, you are thrown into the gaga land where chicks are of the more superior kind and you simply do nothing about it.

Phone calls are another subtle prick in the already prickled posterior. What was otherwise glorious days of gaping into the eye of the girl without flinching an eyelid like the Bollywood heroes, is reduced to a few minutes of blabbers over the phone, along with a strong conscience barging in. it reminding one of the massive whole the phone bill is about to create. It then shifts to the internet and by that time, the heart of the lovelorn fellow is too full with grief.: p

And no matter how much filmi one is, it is strictly not possible to communication via pigeon network. Firstly, if a letter sent with the pigeon to an unknown land (unknown for the pigeon that is) the pigeon might get lost. And snail mails are better options. And what else is the hapless pigeon going to do? Whitewash for the sake of expressing the master’s feelings? Nay, Barjatya’s idea is not realistic to be precise.

And thus is the disheartening condition of the lovestruck Romeo marooned in an unknown land. Sustaining this is a different issue :P