Angel

It had been just two days after I had lost to her in the quiz competition that we met again. I was in my favorite cafe reading the book "My name is Red".Not able to decipher wat writer(translator) wanted to convey, I looked up and I saw her with her two friends smiling. With the loss in my mind that smile seemed to be a smirk targetted on the vanquished- me.

I left the cafe paying my bills hiding glances at her. When out of the cafe, I felt a tug on my shoulder and the same girl was standing. I thought she was there to torment me but still asked her the reason for stalking me. She gave me my book(my name is red) which I had left in the cafe .And before I could thank her. She went away. There was note inside-"You were better(in the quiz) but I was lucky".

Today when I came to know about her from our common friend, she said the girl had died of a road accident.This post is dedicated to her.

Moral of the story: If u don't believe in angels, start believing!

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2010

1.My resume is a disaster. I have not done much in life except making it to IIMs.Trust me that even seems hollow here.It has left me in such huge debts.

2. I write and u read. Some of you say its kick ass stuff. Some of you get pissed off because u expect something here.haha

3. I am crazy and I am random. I do watever I wish .No ambitions.But many a times I feel I have no control over myself. I am driven by a force. Might be peer-pressure, social pressure.

4.The best compliment I ever got was that " This guy(me) will surely do something marvelous in his lyf" Quite an optimistic comment.

5. anyways I will stop cribbing. Happy new year . 2009 aggrevated my confusion and 2010 is expected to ease it a bit.

Take care.

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Its only for those who understand

She wrote with panache. All that anger in her, she penned it down with grace. The queen of satire. People read her ,loved her, and above all agreed to her.
But then all this came with some criticism. Anyways, that was a part of her work.

One day she met a guy. A guy who was unaware of the world. Always jovial. Carefree.
For her, it was love at first sight.
For him, he didnot care.

She approached him, but again he took her casually. She tried a lot to impress him. But then he didnot budge. Some people are not made for that love thingy,u know.

Her heart broke. She was angry and she wrote more about it. That was known as her best work. Uncriticised work.

Moral of the story: If someone broke your heart, write about it, It definitely helps!!!

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The three phases

Phase 1: An engineer enters into an IIM with loads of expectations and dreams. Pay package, reputation in the society, recognition, fast cars,materialism,hot chicks, work-hard-party-harder amuse him. He is like everyone, same night outs, same submissions, same group work. Cliched idea of life.

Phase 2: Seeks fun in free-riding. Realises money is not everything. Only quality life amuses him. Wants to travel, see places.He blogs. He clicks pictures.He plays guitar.

Phase 3: Nothing amuses him.


**Lately I have indulged in lots of self-marketing.I m done with it. And trust me this post is a last nail in that coffin of my personal marketing.

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My ideal girl..

***This post contains some explicit words.

She should be a girl from the Indian villages who:

1. who'd wear a red lipstick n funny heels on our honeymoon in ooty.

2.and she'd be holdin on to my shirt the whole time.

3.yaa n wen i go for office then she will touch my feet n do the whole "mera pati mera bhagwaan" nautanki n pack aloo ki sabzi for me

4.she wont even take my name and wen i wud b in office then she will sit in the drawing room n read books like " learn angrezi in 10 days".

5. n then one night the poor lil thing will try her best to seduce me n wear sexy lingrie n be like "lets have saxxxx".

6. To spice up my bland saaaxxx life I might as well be havin an affair wid the office secretary

7.she will get better but till then half of my hair will be gone.
_______________________________________________________________________________
PS: All above are the statements coming from devilish mind of Sapna Dandona(name changed).Thanx Sapna for helping me visualise my bright future.
PPS: I dont mean to offend anyone here and I also don't intend to be a chauvinist.

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The girl, the hope and the retrospection

Given a wish, I wud like to eradicate poverty..Not that I am any guy who is all for charity but yes some-times(rather many times) I see poverty and it bugs me..

I will tell you about this little girl who is from my home town. This girl taught me that hope was the greatest thing which keeps u alive. Her father does not work and mother cleans utensils in our nearby. I asked this girl wat she wanted to be.... This girl just wanted to be rich.. She said-" I study and thats why one day I will b rich".(I am going home this december and wud add the pic of the girl to the post).

I like going back to my hometown and see wats my roots are..I have been a hosteler since I was 8 year old..I hated it then because we have 4 hour electricity and only doordarshan in TV..There were times i wanted to run away. But now I vie to be there..I love to sit on the roof and observe or read or retrospect.. I remember going to my boarding school and not being able to be a part of discussion about serials on Sony or Zee.

Anyways things are improving in my home-town..Now schools are there..The government has allowed free cycles to girls who go to school and the parents see some compensation in sending there child to school..But there are miles to go....

Anyways this post of mine was not written nonchalantly!!

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I can't write about.....

hi guys,
I came here to write and this time I m not drunk. So if I suck ,I am to be blamed unlike the last post where the advising lady stole all the limelight.

I thought a lot about wat topic to write on. I can't write like those people who have been tagged and then they write the whole post about two things they hate most or five things they can't live without or their latest crush. I m sure you won't read that even if I try to.
I can't even write any fiction about how a guy danced around the trees and went on to woo his girl. I am no writer and you know that.
I can't even write about why Kashmir should not be an independent country or why Sensex would reach 25,000 in Mar 2011 or why Rafael Nadal is better than Roger Federer. I have opinions on each and everything u discuss but I can't convince how my opinion is better than yours.

Instead, I will write about people I encounter and how random they can get. How they leave you amazed,dazzled,dumbstruck etc. There was this guy in my college who saw this recharge coupon 16 digit number and memorized it in a glance. Then this guy who played awsome guitar with all our college girls surrounded to him(though jealous feeling was more than of enamoured one).

But people who amaze me the most are writers.For example I read some blogs and feel quite dumbstruck. There are many I connect and say it loud that I feel the same but I can't write the same. There are many I donot connect but feel drowned into wat they write.

But I am a strong votary of this opinion that-each guy in this earth is special and unique.
-------------------------thanx------------------------------------------------

PS: I put both my blogs for ratings and the result came as follows
1.vc's-6/10
2.I...-8.5/10

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Of forks,knives and spoons

on public demand I write this...
If I suck then curse this lady who said "we write our best wen we r drunk"

Anyways my mind has loads of things running in it..like a perfect cocktail..U know i don't like cocktails.why do they mix up things. its like those remixes songs I can't bear.

You know my life has been full of culture shocks. And nostalgia peeping in me is pushing me to write abt that.

When I entered boarding school and begun to learn the culture of forks,knives and spoons.The story ahead is about my lyf then. The year 1993.

->The first word I heard in the school was "Pin-drop-Silence". A teacher shouted it at all of us and then there was sudden whole lot of lull.Think of a guy who came from a hindi medium school and has to connect first three words like pin, drop and silence in a hard core english medium school.

->mathematical tables were so hard to learn.specially the eighteen and the seventeen. And the recitation is even more stupid. eighteen-eight-zaa-one-hundred-forty-four and it goes on. Standing out of the maths class in Class 3 was a common phenomenon then.

->We wrote letters to our home. We had a period dedicated to letter writing.Every letter was same except in the last where we had to send regards to our elders and in the youngsters part we filled in the name of our sisters,brothers and cousins.But all parents thought it as a truly customized letter instead of a mass-production one!

->Last the concept of how a child is born was so puzzling to us. We had all ideas borrowed from movies. It began that when the actor kisses the actress the child is born. Then it went on to mere sleeping. Then further on and on. Then the seniors tell u the truth. Lastly the biology teacher puts a seal on the puzzle.

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Its not just a biography

I am not good in English because I was born in a small town in Bihar. My parents could not afford to send me outside my hometown(read:homevillage) to pursue my education.But I have learned the mathematical tables from 1 to 20 very well. Probably that is the only thing I know fully by heart, apart from The Hanumaan Chaalisa(the forty lines prose sung in praise of Lord Hanuman).

But you know I like the English language very much. I don't know all of the Hindi alphabets(they are too many of them) but I remember all twenty six of the English ones and also one word each alphabet like A for apple and X for X-mas.

There is one neighbour of mine-very smart guy. He studied in a convent school in Dehradun. You know he recently married a girl who is not even of his caste. The girl came to our village last week. She is so-very good looking and I am also sure that one day when I learn English and talk English I will get a good girl.I tried talking to her and she was so good mannered. But all the old women(grannies of our village) gossip ill about her which I don't like.

Anyways, once my craving to learn the English language went beyond limits that I asked our landlord's son to bring some English movie cassette.But to my dismay the movie was a cheap one and I overheard- they call it a blue movie. Its one bad things about English-speaking people that they promote public display of affection far beyond extent. I don't like it.

Yesterday I asked my teacher the ways to improve English. He said to read English newspapers. So I bought this "Times of India". Yes even my village has accessibility to Times of India. Every news I read was either of rape or eve-teasing or "Kareena Kapoor-looking-hot" or "some gay parade". I didn't enjoy it.

I will talk about my dream. I dream of being a teacher. An English teacher. I will teach them English literature and English poems. Poetry fascinates me a lot.I will shape the young minds of my students like my next door neighbour(the potter) makes pottery from that raw earth.

Anyways I talk a lot. I better sleep as I have to wake up early and bathe some buffalos. May Lord Hanuman bless you all!!

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