Reminder Service!

Oh, almost forgot.

Here's a sweet gentle reminder.

Remember?

Ok, so get them all for me.

Merry Christmas!

A tribute!

If you just happen to stroll by Church Street sometime, you might just find me on the second floor of a shanty little building. And you can join me if you wish.

I am suffering from Depression. The reason: My hair, or rather the lack of it now.

In what appears like a phantasmagoria now, in a single stroke of unbridled fanaticism, I got my ‘pretty locks’ chopped. I had been carefully cultivating them for over two months, taking care to ensure that they fell all over my face. Alas, they last no more.

I am going on a not so well deserved vacation to Rajasthan soon. And owing to the suggestion of a certain LoSeR!, I have decided to make a detour to Lakshwadeep to hire some snorkeling gear. I shall go to the desert and bury my head there, wearing the gear and all, and stay in hibernation till my hair grows back.

Just thing about my hair makes me go Yeewww!

I am looking like a ten year old kid again.

No “hen-makulu” looks at me anymore, no riding faster just to get my hair flutter around a bit more and worse of all, no entry to ‘Kalyug’[which for the uninformed is a radical new ‘A’ movie] That’s sucks! Just when I had received so many reviews heralding the movie’s cinematography, I find myself unable to enter.

I tried various disguises and tricks to get in the theatre. I went with the season veteran Gaurav Kothari but wasn’t allowed to enter. I showed the watchman my driving license, but that fellow gave me wide, toothy smile, with toothpick and all and reminded me that I stayed in India. Next, I chopped off the head of a (new) floor mop; and used some lipstick and two oranges. But what do I get? A kick in my butt, and no refund too. I am suing that theatre!

I shall try my luck again, in Rajasthan. Let’s hope it works.

P.S. By reading this blog, you resolve to stand up for a minute and pay last respects for my now deceased hair. The poor fellows were barbarously murdered along with their kith and kin. No compensation has been announced yet.

And while your at the prayer, contribute a lil’ for my semester marks too. Pray for them, and if possible, provide tampered weighing machines to my University.

Circle Of Life!

We have had three days of classes in the Second Semester and I can proudly proclaim that I have 100% attendance.

The perseverance, the determination, the skill and the inspiration that made me achieve this phenomenal achievement is worthy of a book being penned by me, which I shall start soon. I am looking for some publishers who would want to pay me in advance. Anyone?

However, Amar has not been so lucky. Poor fellow has eligibility tests, more of a formality but tests nevertheless. My Accounts teacher still continuously picks on him despite him attending more classes than my other illustrations acquaintances at college.

Over these long holidays, spanning for over a month, I have observed quite a few oddments about myself. I read nearly all books back first going on the cover. I open the newspaper and read the last page first, I read all comics from the last and except novels known for surprise endings, I read them too with the last page first.

Well, that I guess comes with me being a left hander. The other possible hypothetical reason has been that my right brain(puns!) had stopped working ever since I had decided to be a nurse in LKG. My teacher used to say that it was a very good profession. I was inspired then. It has had, as you can see, its harmful consequences.

The other reason might be that I had thought that I had been learning Arabic in school for all these years. Only recently did I realize that it was Hindi. How stupid of me.

The other nitwit things I do is that I can’t make up my mind to study before 12 in the night. That’s when I get extraordinarily motivated and sit for a full 15 minutes studying hard before deciding that its time to sleep and do just that. I also make plans to begin studying the next day by 2 in the afternoon. But history repeats every day and I start only at 12 again.

That’s my Circle Of Life, and I love it.

The Opportunistic mind of an Egoist

From now on, I can finally strut about city saying I know an IITian. Ha HA,

“I know an IITian!”

I could have said that 2 years back when people like VD and Kartik joined that stupid, wretched, blood sucking place called BASE; but today, I can say that with an air of finality after having met an IITian who has just completed six months there.

Knowing an IITian gives you the unprivileged advantage of being constantly met with envious, fanatical eyes who want to kill you for enjoying that privilege. And especially with people like me, who go around boasting about it; don’t be surprised if I actually get bashed up by someone. If I do get bashed up, its Kartik’s and VD’s fault. Blame them.

Its wonderful meeting old friends, especially when one is a LoSer! like me, the other owns an I Pod Nano, yet another who has gone through rehab and no longer rides like the young-blooded street racer that he was, one who owns a scooty pep!, another loser who likes doing B.Com when he is not trying to break codes for the CIA and of course VD who has returned from the IIT (which I have always likened to the Hulks for some reason).

Ha!

“I know an IITian!”

Well, I don’t know how the psychology of a human brain works but for some reason I have always had time to log on to the net even during the most hectic days but hardly have time when I have holidays. Strange!

Exams again!

Ok, this past week has been hectic. I couldn’t play GTA even once, that too just when I had got the mission to steal the Desert Tank by sneaking into the Army Encampment.
The reason? Exams.

Now, they are done with, and were more surprising for more reasons than one.

First, the papers didn’t leak (Its generally available with even groundnut sellers everywhere in Bangalore. This time they weren’t).

Second, my buddy, Gaurav Kothari(who has the obnoxious habit of wearing clip-on earrings on his eyebrows!) didn’t write the exam. I couldn’t fudge. Too bad.

Third, I did better than I expected.

I also observed a few things which humans are generally not expected to observe, especially if you study in my college.

Jain College Students look really bad with books, and most of them could be seen with books during the exam. Second, the girls in my college wear even fewer clothes during exams, even when it is 15 degrees outside, and especially when you’re trying to write an accounts paper. Its more noticeable when there are girls all around you.

And last, its so damn relieving when instead of greeting Amar with the usual ‘Hi!’, you generally say ;

‘Dude, I am Screwed man’.
‘ I don’t know nothing. I started at 9 yesterday.’

Confessing that takes guts, and we seemed to do so everyday except of course for maths when we just exchanged a stupid grin.

And the best part is that we have holidays till the 12th.

Yippee!

Doggy Style!

My hair seems to have grown all over my face again. My brother calls me a black haired Pomeranian, but I call myself a black haired Briard. But I will continue to be indignant. I will not have my hair cut, out of fear of that insolent barber. Cheeky fellow.



I also have figured out a new way of making a million; this time by suing Nokia. Yeah, those Finnish mammoths. The reason being this.

Imagine, your having a nice nap on your nice bed upon your nice pillow on a nice Sunday afternoon. And then, imagine, just imagine, your phone screaming out, Beep Beep; Pause; Beep Beep.

“1 New Message Received”.

That’s good enough I say.

But imagine, the new message being this;

S: I am going to the Sun,
B: But the Sun is so hot, how are u going to go there.
S: Ah! I have thought all about it. I am going there at night.

Now, now, if your returning from the IIT’s(sorry, no offense, just a cliché), that might be a New Message. But, if you receive the same message, and countless other New Old messages, you feel like chucking your phone out of the window and going back to sleep. How is that new? I don’t know. And Nokia, you will pay for this. HaHA!

A better message would have been

S: I am going to the Sun,
B: But the Sun is so hot, how are u going to go there.
S: Ah! I have thought all about it. I am going to wear a thermonite suit which has the capability to perfectly reflect the Cosecant waves emitted by the heavenly quasars and pulsars.

That, I admit is not a joke[ except maybe to the IITians], but its at least new.

I am now returning to my nice nap on my nice bed upon my nice pillow on this nice Monday afternoon. And I shall wait, for my phone to scream out, Beep Beep; Pause; Beep Beep. Evidence, my dear Watson, evidence.

Billionaires and Pikachu's!

If you have read the latest issue of Business Standard, they have kindly provided a copy of “The Billionaire Club”. If you have read further on, you would have noticed that Azim Premji as the No.1 Billionaire in India. If you have stopped there, fine. That was the intention anyway. But for my more discretionary readers, you might have read the Fine Print. It clearly say this,

“Due to the incompatibility of our computer to process large numbers, we have not included the name of Gaurav. However, we assure that he is the No. 1 Billionaire of India.”

Most of you would not have read this because it requires an electron microscope to magnify.

Psst! Let me let you on to a secret. I purposely asked them to eliminate my name. No, I don’t grow poppy. I don’t even smuggle bombs. I stopped enriching Uranium 6 years ago. But I am scared of those weird Income Tax people who would come rushing home if I had them include my name in the list. Hence, the fine print. Now, now, don’t go around telling this to everybody! Don’t you dare think that just because I am on my way to become a Chartered Accountant, I have immunity from those chaps there.

Now, on to more important stuff.

I got a call from “Retirement Benefits From ICICI yesterday”. I told them I am already happily retired from public life.

Exams start on 24th, so I have absolutely nothing to do till the 23rd. That’s got me to learn to waste away my time more productively doing quite a lot of things. For instance, today I watched the Shark Tale twice in a row. Otherwise, I am just sulking on my couch playing some damn stupid game[ cant play GTA, it uses the F-word a bit too much, precisely, after every damn word spoken.] . Still otherwise, I am chauffeuring people around, especially relatives’ kids asking for a precise metallic brown coloured balloon with a Donald Duck on it standing with Pikachu. You can’t explain stuff to kids; especially that Pikachu and Donald were not made by the same company and hence can’t be together. But do they understand, NO!
So, I told them that Pikachu missed his/her/it’s flight to Disneyland and thus couldn’t pose with Donald. They were satisfied. Got them a stupid pink balloon with a heart on it.

Pathetic.

Also, that loser of a person Amar doesn’t seem to have any inclination to give a birthday treat. Wait till I get Gaurav Kothari to come to his house in a gypsy and bash him up with Hockey Sticks. You just wait! That way, I would also be eliminating competition for the exams coming up.

Ha! HA! I am becoming nastier, and loving all of it.

Celebrating the Uncelebrated

Nothing significant ever happens to me.

Ok, the dog down my street has a fetish to run after me, the ‘paan’ shop fellow near BASE offers me cigarettes when I ask for mint and cops keep asking me for licenses.

Now, that got me thinking. No, seriously, I did use the stairway to my brain this time.
Am I that sinister looking??? That’s the bloody paradox.

Am I that sinister looking?

Dogs running, cigarette offerings, cops catching. Why? Why me? For heaven’s sake, why??

It just doesn’t stop at that. The CD guys offers me the “stuff” incessantly, my principal thinks I have a second home on the benches of M.G.Road and most of all, people stare at me when I walk down the road humming the G- Group’s “Taliban Alla Alla”.

I must be sinister.

Let me start loving kids, loving the Moonwalk, hang my kids down the balcony, have a sister who ‘flashes’ at the Superbowl, and then, who knows, I might just get qualified to get a free plastic surgery too. Get a better face and move away from this sinister world.

The weather just makes it worse. It may be the moisture in the air, or maybe the Cubans are spraying Biochemical weapons from the air using aerosol cans(!!), but my nasty beard grows again in just 4 days. Too bad. It makes me look even more sinister.

Also, the remix version of the G-Group’s Taliban Alla Alla also doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I am using another sinister alias for this . Put your rotten tomatoes in your hand in honour of the one and only, DJ TJ.

TIP OF THE DAY

Some people have complained about a bad smell emanating from their computer screens on viewing this page. If your one of them, well, then that’s a technical error and should go away if you unplug your computer, pick up the monitor in your left hand, roll it over your fingers and try to juggle it while staring at a roach right near your little toe. If the monitor survives, refresh and the smell will be gone.

I suck!

Wet

You walk out, you get wet.
You drive out, you get wet.
You go to college, you get wet.
You eat an apple you get wet, you say ‘Hallelujah’, you get wet.

These days, anything and everything you do gets you wet. It just rains all day in Bangalore. The traffic on roads is horrible. The roads are horrible.

Enough of being optimistic, let me get pessimistic. The weather just rocks. There’s a nice, cool wind blowing all the time. Its cold and chilly. Walks in the mornings are just a treat.

Here is Bangalore's answer to Ooty and to the world. Why go to a hill station? Stay in Bangalore, join my college and enjoy the benefits of retirement at 18.

Today was the most phenomenal day in my illustrious career at College. Ay, today was the first, yes, the absolute first day I sat outside in the college quadrangle bunking a period. It was really nice.

Of course it was raining outside.

And we had to meet an old pal at a horrible, gut wrenching, life sucking, Azkaban like place called BASE. That made us bunk three periods in a row. Why we could sit in the quadrangle and not might as well have attended class, I don’t know. I guess it takes joining a college like mine to understand these paradoxes of life.

And then, we had a walk in a park called Bugle rock park. There were no Bugle players, only innocuous couples coochie-cooing under the rocks making slurpy, Bugle like noises. We ran for our lives.

And we got wet on our way to Halli Tindi, which fancies itself by serving village food of all kinds. We waited there for Satya, the pal at BASE, and a ‘visitor’ of Amar’s.

Satya ditched us, and we got wet again tracking our way down to Azkaban. It sure got chilly, it sure got dark, it sure got gloomy, peering into the mysterious labyrinths of BASE.

Then, we went to Papdiwala to eat. Poor Azkaban break out’s, it really does gets up to their heads. Satya wanted ice in his Lime Juice in this weather! He might as well have kept his glass outside and the cold weather would make it ice-cold anyway.
Huh! When would these people get Madu brains??

And, I, the person, that I am, forced the ‘visitor’ of Amar, to eat just one Sandwich. Now, that would have been very filling for me, but well, it apparently wasn’t enough for her. Too bad.

I forgot I eat just as much as a Koala does[ How much does it, by the way?]

Ah, I love the rain. Off I am to get wet again.

Have It? Sell It!

Punch in “Neurotic” in Google and a small teenie-weenie advertisement at the side says:-

Neurotic
Looking for Neurotic?
Find exactly what you want today
www.eBay.com

Now, that’s damn weird. Sure, there are people who would bother selling their souls or entire villages on Ebay. But selling Neurotics, well, that’s crazy!

I have a spare cycle with one tyre [ no, not a unicycle] and no brakes and a body more full of rust than metal. Wonder if it will sell. And I wonder if could sell my College there. I should try.

There are also a few worthless things I could try to sell. One; my brand new IIT books. Two; my brand new, unused, brain. Three, the bus stop outside my house. Four, my neighbour’s dog. The list could just go on and on.

Also, I should try selling a few potholes of Bangalore, relics in themselves; they should fetch a million at least. And no one would even notice or bother if I go out with a drill to dig out the road to get the coveted potholes. Off I am to buy a drill.

And my hairs grown back, begging for a cut.
Off I am to that rascal of a barber again, soon.

(Hopefully I can sell my hair too!)

P.S.: This is how the alphabets would have looked like without the Q and R. Wow!

Its the final Coundown.

Imagine a countdown to your death.
Imagine it go - Tick Tock , Tick Tock.
Imagine it staring at you from the edge of your computer screen.

And before you realize you hardly have 70 minutes left, or rather in my case, 70 megabytes, my life being my broadband meter and me having 70 megabytes left in my download limit.

Its like the apex of the roller coaster, a never ending, bone-jarring fall is all that remains.
Before I know it, Poof! 70 megabytes gone. How data flies when your having fun, and I haven’t even started the Satya stuff yet!

Can’t someone contribute and get me an unlimited connection?? I guess I will have to rely on my Dad to answer that question.

And my face goes blue when I think of that loafer Amar getting speeds of 20 KBps on his bloody 64 kbps connection. How he does it, I don’t know. Sure he is geeky computer nerd who knows his FAT32’s from his NTFS’ and his Kernel 32’s to his Page files. But how he makes a 64kbps give him 20 KBps, I don’t know, and I hate him for that.

They say a Brahmin’s curse never fails, Siddharth, do something. Curse that fellow.

May he be kissed by a thousand Devika’s, may his DVD collection burn, or worse, may his Internet Connection crash.

Phew!
Now that felt better.

Hero Of The Day

Yes, my College Principal is my Hero.

He is the Jack - Of - All - Trades as I see him, which I do pretty often.

Mornings, he is at the gate standing just as a watchman would do, watching us all pass by furtively. If he could only give a smart salute and shout “Salaaam Shaubji”, I would have got him a job at a better place.

Later on in the day, the old bloke sits on the visiting chairs outside his own room. He must be suffering from amnesia, poor fellow.

Otherwise, he goes around to each of the 50-60 classes reading out the examination rules individually. Why would someone be so jobless, I do not understand.

At other times, as in during my admission, he was the one who actually totaled up my marks and filled up half of my application form. And today, the fellow went to the extent of checking out all my attendance registers and asking me as to why I had not attended each class. Sure, I don’t suffer from amnesia, but still, how am I supposed to remember why I bunked which class on what date.

The master of alibis that I am, I gave him the most stupendous, no, totally outrageous alibis as to why I was not in class. Although I joined college a month late, that fellow just couldn’t understand that. I thought of making some equations and proving mathematically using some self-conjured hypothesis’ as to how the probability of me attending classes depended directly on my curiosity in finding out the colour of the hair of my pals at college that day, which seems to change every day.

But that bloke seemed to think that I was enjoying outside bunking classes. If bunking college and getting up at 12.00 pm, playing on the PS2 and going for a movie seems enjoyment to him, he definitely needs a break. Those are the bare necessities and how are you supposed to get by a day performing them. But no, I have to attend classes.

Sigh .

No one understands my problem.

And tomorrow if he does not give my registration form, I will belt out “Hodimaga, hodimaga, hodimaga” at the top of my voice to convince him that I am a member of Upendra Fan Cult too, just like him. He will have no option then, will he??

Yes, a watchman, a peon, a attendance clerk, and ofcourse , a principal.
My hero.

The Calls of Nature and Exams!

I tried, I failed.

I tried to stay calm for my B.Com exam. Well, I apparently couldn’t.

I have plucked out all my hair and the Nescafe jars’ are all empty.

Well, as I am the optimist always, now I can finally pose a challenge to my barber. Let’s see what he does with my hair now, now that I have none. None to colour, none to comb, all sacrificed over a bloody B.Com trial exam.

Since I am so well prepared, I plan to wear long stockings tomorrow for the exam with my legs knee deep in ‘Chits’, an imported Motorola walkie-talkie set to chat with my close buddies Gaurav Kothari and Vikram during the exam, try to fudge and get those elusive twosome to elicit some answers which I can jot down in my paper.

Well, apparently, it seems like I have failed in my preparations again.

What happened was this. Just before I was conjuring my ‘Chits’ this morning, I went in for a walk on the terrace. Staring at the Ursa Major and the Centaurus , I figured out an important fact of my life, one of the few unsolved mysteries of our times, it being that I have an exact chance of 0.65% of passing my exam.

And before I could know what was happening;
Plottt!

Yes, heaven had answered. Heaven had finally answered.

Heaven had answered in the form of a pigeon who had to choose no other place to answer the call of nature but the empty space above my shoulders [with no obvious reference to my brain]. My jazzy shirt spoilt, I decided to renounce everything.

So, I plan to go off to Ananda Spa in the Himalayas for a week free from worldly pleasures like examination to attain salvation there, rather than in my examination hall.

And I just hope someone can call my mom and convince her that I found my true calling and to let me go off to the Himalayas.

The Art Of Living!

Try typing in B.Com in Microsoft Word and use the auto correct function, it will say ‘Be Calm’ and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

I really don’t understand how ‘the Hire Purchaser not getting the legal rights to the Asset’ is going to affect me anyway, and earlier I couldn’t understand how ‘the reaction of 2,4,6 Trinitrophenol with methyl alcohol’ would affect my bloody future.

Thus, I plan to switch over to ARTS, yes, arts. Science to Commerce to Arts to god know what, yes, that’s what life is, other than chewing paan and spitting on stair case corners.

Psychology, the art of studying a psycho would find me having a perfect case study in me. And if doing Journalism finds me , just as Aaj Tak’s and Zee News’ do, investigating why my neighbourhood aunty has a grudge against the vegetable seller next road or why George Bush refused to shave with Gillette and preferred to use Brut, well, then I am game for it. And arts being arts, I naturally love drawing, and unlike a familiar Bramante I know of, my drawings, as my Value Added book would prove, border on the abstract and the grotesque, both of which would easily pass of as ‘The Mordernest of Modern Arts’.

After I get bored with Arts too, which I know I eventually will do, I would just open a small Paan-Beedi-Gutka shop next to my College, become a millionaire in no time and will get an opportunity to spit my own paans. Then, I would get all the young newbie’s addicted to my paans and beedis.

Ha! HA! Me, a sadist. Ha! HA!

So, off I am searching for a partner [ in losses only] for my new business.

Till then, please, please, ‘Be Calm’.

Sadism is Good!

I love Call Center Executives.

They are frustrated, workaholics, irritated and generally always stoic, just my type.

So, throughout last year, through my late night rituals of very late sleeping, I used to call up one of the numerous customer cares [Toll free, mind you] and bug the hell out of them.

So, I have tried to order pizzas using the Spice Customer Care, listed out to the Jet Airways people why Air Sahara was way better than them, giving them more than 50 reasons relentlessly, argued with the Hutch Care people that the owner of Hutch was not a tycoon in South Korea but some freaky king in Brunei.

My other exploits included try to persuading the Hewlett Packard people to send me a free Ink Cartridges as I was the CEO of a multi-billion company and wanted to test out its products. But the best of my adventures materialized in me trying to get an ICICI Bank credit card by telling them that I am get a salary of Re.45 and that I was the next Steve Jobs or Larry Page[ who also get a salary of $1] and that I was going to inherit Bill Gates’ empire as he was impressed my skills at C++ when he came to school, the frustrated kind lady simply slammed the phone down, thank you very much.

I once acted as thought I was the CEO of Spice and berated them about the importance of speaking politely to ‘our’ customers, the poor fellow almost believed me until I reminded him that which fool of a CEO stays awake at 2 a.m. and that I was just kiddin’ and kindly told him to get back to sleep.

Me, the sadist that I am, used to call up customer care center right in the dead of the night and asked them if the Call Center was up 24 hours or only at night. The Poor people would have cursed me like mad.
Damn! I am going to hell!
Boo Hoo!
Lucifer Here I Come!

These Call Center people are always very stoic, always.

What came as a pleasant surprise were the people from Nokia Customer Care.
Well, they log the name and phone number of each person for easier future reference. After having giving them the required details a previous time, when I called up the next time, a very pleasant voice in a wonderfully accented English said , “Am I speaking to Mr. Gaurav …. And is your number 2…….”. Well, since I was in a particularly nasty mood that day, I told that it wasn’t Gaurav but his “evil - twin brother” speaking.

And to my astonishment, the lady burst out laughing hysterically and continued to do so for quite some time until she shifted back to the Call-Center-Executives-have-to-be-stoic mode. It’s almost like Mr.Wemmick’s post box smile.
Sigh!

And nearly every Customer Care number has a different name by which they refer to their Executives.

Some call them ‘Customer Care Executives’, some simply ‘Agents’, some ‘Customer Care Representatives’, ‘Customer Relation Officer’ and everything under the moon except of course frustrated-irritated-person-who-would-wants-to-kick-ur-butt.

Man , Call Centers rule, unless ofcourse you work in one!

Broadband

Broadband.

It’s amazing how a small 9 letter word can cause euphoria, ecstasy, delight, elation and bliss in a self confessed geek like me.

Being the optimist that I am, my dial up days went past with me having time to read my entire B.Com Additional English book or to make a trip to Shimla and back while a simple page like www.gamespot.com loaded or while an mp3 could be downloaded.
Ahh, those days are gone.

Now downloading an mp3 takes as much time as it would take a Grandmaster to beat me at chess or as soon as I get bored with studying, which is in the limits of a few seconds.

Also, today was another one of those non-significant days at college.

As usual, I bunked the first two classes. Also, Amar, today, wore a really nice T-Shirt, and the ‘SMARTY’, as he is being called nowadays, is the ‘hottie’ in class among the girls[and a few not so straight boys too!].

I have also declared myself to be terminally ill with the “Cotton’s Syndrome”, the symptoms of which is the desire to cut my hair exceptionally short because of Ajay Kumar’s hallucinations, the desire use a Hydrogen Sulphide flavoured deodorant with every occurrence of Pa’s phantom, the desire to laugh out hysterically at the sight of Mercy’s spirit and of course to scream out ‘Jaaaaaahhhhn’ loudly and in one breath every time Neelam Patil’s apparition appears which is right now hovering above my computer.

A barbarous Assassination

Waking up this morning, I immediately slept again.

And After waking up again, taking all the benefits of having parents gone out of station, I generously helped myself to an early morning Coke, had a bath , and slept again.

Sleeping being my favourite time-killer, this time it had disastrous consequences, not on me, but on my hair. Waking up, I found my hair almost unable to comb [not that I do that too often] and found my comb full of my now broken, precious, long [having an exact measurement, on average of 3.5 inches] hair. Sighting the remaining million or so still left on my head, I decided to save them from this catastrophic future, and decided to finally (after March 22, precisely) visit my barber.
.
After having eluded my barber for long, I finally had to give in to this dastardly ritual of mine. Having resisted the opportunity, the urge and the desire to let my hair stay long, I , sighting Vikram’s example[ who is in my B.Com class and the other day turned up with his 3 feet long hair chopped into pieces of 3 centimeters, making him almost unrecognizable. However, mind you, the multitude and assortment of hair colour on his hair remained.]

Now, my barber being a perfectly aware of my tendency to disagree to his superfluous suggestions, this time too made it a point to suggest a new, wacky and crazy hairstyle. This ritual of him suggesting and me vehemently disagreeing has been going on since I was in 6th, and each of the new hairstyles he suggests , according to him would make me a favorite among “hen-makulu”[ which , for the not so kannada savvy, is girls] .
As I entered, eyeing my fairly long hair suspiciously, he immediately pounced on me, and this time, he suggested an all time favourite of his, the style with very little hair on the middle of my scalp and letting long hair on the sides. I have always viewed him as Frankenstein’s Creator, trying stupid, crazy experiments on none other than Yours’ Truly, and each time meeting with the same nonchalant NO! from me. Why do I get to be Frankenstein? Why ?

Anyway, he almost fell in shock when I told him that I wanted nothing but a simple, plain straight-forward hairstyle rather than an unusually unusual hairstyle. For some reason, the expression on his face seemed to suggest that I always go in for the most outlandish of hairstyles and this time, had mended my ways.

Having the uncanny ability to see through all my expressions, that noble fellow began berating me with all the importance of being in Jain College and having a good [ which to him meant outlandish] hairstyle, with lots of multicoloured hair dyes, each colour trying to take possession of my hair.

Now furious at my indignation of not going for a “funky” hairstyle, he finally began to chop away my hair barbarously [is that why he is called a barber?], vehemently, not taking the pains of doing so gently. As I saw my pretty locks fall, I wanted to run away, protect the hair I had cultivated for so long. But that cunning fellow had hindered my movement by tying me with an apron like cloth, supposed to prevent hair from falling on my clothes, but now I know of its true purpose. Hah!.

What was a plainly humiliating experience, I looked up after the grueling experience came to an end 12 minutes later. Looking up in the countless mirrors in his shop, I finally saw myself again, literally. My hair cut down to a minuscule part of what it could have been in another 3 months time, and I finally saw my face again.

Heck! I didn’t know that I had brown eyes, and a nasty pimple had come up in these three months on my forehead. Now that the hair covering it all is gone, I paid my barber who gave my hair another suspicious look and let me go.

Outside, I touch the ground having survived another barbarous session with the barber, I now look forward to the new look “Jang!” [ and yes, with brown eyes] , with a shorter school boy look, that makes me look like, well, a school boy.

And does anyone know a good barber in my vicinity?

Of Spiders and Men!

Nishanth being the best of the worst of sooth-sayers I know, yesterday predicted the future of the life of a tiny inconspicuous insect.

I, myself am quite a bit of a soothsayer and had rightly predicted on the 19th of September,2004 that his next birthday would fall on the 19th of September, 2005.
And Lo! and Behold! what great surprise it was when his birthday actually did fall on the 19th, which was yesterday. Heralding this momentous occasion in my short career, I take this opportunity that according to Venus' unusually elliptical orbital movements and Pluto's irregular rotation, I predict that Nishanth's birthday should fall on the 19th of September, next year.

Now, getting back to the insect, which I must describe before proceeding further.
This insect, surely from a place FAAAR away from civilization, descended from above. Although initially dismissing it as another plain old spider, a closer look made me stare up in the sky to look from any flying saucers, or even tea-cups, for that matter, which could have dropped it in an effort to take over the world with the help of such eccentric creatures.

Now, this particular creature had chosen to descend on nothing but my wonderful Golden Scooter. This fella, had the body of a spider and even looked like a spider! It was a tiny little spider, the size of a pea but had the most deadly, the most mesmerizing, the most gripping of eyes, eyes as big as a tarantula's , and when our eyes met, it seemed a wonderful concussion was suffered by both of us. As it pierced into my eyes, Nishanth, known for his prowess at predicting the future, remarked that this spider like creature was surely going to come home with me. And now me, as an acute sufferer of the severest forms of Arachnophobia, would have bashed up poor Nishanth had it not been his birthday.

All this forgotten, as I was happily riding home, I felt something move up my arm. Used to the zephyr one experiences while riding on a cool, Bangalore evening, I dismissed it; but a minute later , I saw the notorious, infamous spider now trying to begin its mission of taking over the world by biting me, with the goal of my body spreading with its incurable, alien poison, to take possession of my brain by lodging itself in my Cerebellum and eventually using my brain-power(which I must admit, I have very little of) to take over the world, I decided that the world should not be ruled by these Arachnids. Mustering all forms of courage and getting rid of the deadly fear, I having thread on the paths of Gandhi( ok, atleast in part, loving all things having the picture of Gandhi, especially the green buck or two), decided to shoo it away.

Forgetting for a moment how a Jain college Stud would have reacted( by rolling out a cigarette, a la mode, Rajni style, lighting it and stubbing it on the poor creature(thanks Amar!)), I foolishly looked down at the creature and try to shoo it away with my hand. In the process, the creature surely fell down(landing again on my wonderful Golden Scooter), I banged into an innocuous looking fella on a cycle. As with all things innocent, this fell turned out to be the most wretched of creatures and started hurling the choiciest of kannada abuses. I was about to start singing "Taliban Alla Alla" and make him flee from his life , when the spider came back, clinging my hand all along with a silvery, glistening thread.

With one final shoo, it fell down into oblivion. But when I reached home, I found that the creature had liked my scooter so much that it had still stayed back.

With a surge of pity, I picked it up with a leaf, yes, glittering thread and all lest it decides to come back and gently made it comfortable behind the comfort of a cool green pot in my house.

So, here ends the story of this wonderful insect, an insect which surpassed all tested boundaries of perseverance and succeeded in coming home with me.
Now, if someone could just give Nishanth a kick in the butt and warn George Bush of spiders trying to take over the world, my work here would be finished.

Talk the Walk!

Today being another one of those lovely days when you just don't feel like waking up, I didn't wake up. Having religiously maintained my attendance all this week, i felt obliged, no compelled, to bunk this day off. If I hadn't, it could have tarnished my Stud Boy Image.

Thank God I Did!

I love sleeping;
and I just love walking.
and as a natural conclusion, I also love sleep-walking[thats somnambulism, for those of you who are geeky enough to admit that your geeky].

Also, i remember those long walks, some of which, often encompassed the entire lunch break, first alone [ Class 1 - 5] , then, Atul, Deepash , Ankush and sometimes, Niranjan, with ofcourse , Abhilash.[ that was Class 6].

In Class 7, it was Deepash and Abhilash . In 8th , it was Deepash again, Abhilash again and sometimes Javed, Satish and Shri Hari.

Class 9 and 10 it was Abhilash , Deepash and Hitesh.

But I must admit the best school-walks came in Classes 11 and 12.I had a huge list of "Strolling Partners" as I prefer calling them, they being everyone from Nikhil, Shashanka, Shreyas, Ketan, Punit , Siddharth , Pavan, Atul , Satya, Deepak[ who was scary,atleast if the aimless stroll led to the Rest-room] and ofcourse Deepash, all the time missing old Abhilash.

We spoke about every damn thing below those lovely monsoon clouds[ me am following George Orwell's "Principles" to not use frequently used expressions], sometimes even pushing off before and after "Foo's Crash Course", "Mercy's Merciless Course" and "Pa's Toothless Course". I suppose "Nayeem's Sleeping Course" and "Neelam's Jaaahn Course" were always forgiven by me.

Shashanka and Deepash and myself had established quite a tradition of walking off in the short breaks with anyone breaking the tradition being looked down upon as a traitor having committed the national crime of giving Pa a smooch on the forehead or having asked Foo to attend Classes more regularly.

Well, and now coming to my "Wonderful" College, i still have the long walks, and now it's Amar. The best part being that, the world's[ ok, atleast K.R. Road] is our campus, with College having too little room for someone to even stand.

Yes,I love sleeping;
and I just love walking.
as a natural conclusion, I also love sleep-walking.

My Wish List!

With Christmas just round the corner, 100 days to be precise, I have decided to draw up a tentative list of the things I would wan't for Christmas.
I really don't care who buys what as long as I get them all, and yeah!, I even give you the oppurtunity to speak behind my back, getting it all arranged to give me a grand surprise(which I would prefer at 1:30 outside BASE on 25th December, or earlier. So let it be a surprise)

Starting off in 3...2...1

1. I-Pod Photo U2 special 60 Gb
2. A T3 connection for my House, with a promissory note to pay the monthly bills
3. All the Hero pens in the world, (Don't bother with the ink, i have it all planned out)
4. Most Kannada songs ripped on to DVD
5. X-Box 360, which should launch around then, but you could also pre-order it on Amazon if like me so much
6. A Maybach, Black preferable, others would also do just fine, but keep the pink pale
7. An Alien-ware PC
8. A funky-jazzy bike for me to go to College as a Stud boy,
9. An ultra light shrinking machine so that I can sneak back to our lovely lovely school as a LKG kid, On second thoughts, you think i need one?'
10. Unlimited petrol, (Whoever is buying my Maybach, could you arrange for this too??)
11. Pink Tie!
12. Eagle Head Belt Buckle!
13. A B-2 bomber, I promise not to bomb anyone after reading 'Diameter of The Bomb', this is just for posterity's sake.
14. Nokia N90
15. An I-River 40 Gb.
16. A villa opposite Jain College, where I stare at all the Stud Boys and Girls.
17. A healthy allowance which would make Bill William Gates III proud would also be nice, thank you very much!


As I said , this is only tentative and you could get along anything else you want for dear old me!

And now, I am off to learn driving, preparing for my Maybach you see.

Another Day! Another Memory!

Today was a significant day at Jain College, a very significant day with a lot of significant events happening.

To start with the most insignificant of the significant events , we got our Maths papers today and needless to say Amar did extremely well!
Me ??
Well, move on.

Then , we had the wonderful Jain College uniform day with all the Jain College B'Com Studs wearing funky White shirts and black pants. Its really amazing how creative my fellow batch-mates can get, even with a plain white shirt then manage to look so 'Studdish'.

Then, ofcourse, GKR 's ghoul got into our Accounts teacher and he too wanted to have a look at Amar's book. Well, they really can't help it cause he does have such a magnetic personality.

Then , the grand finale was the funky, groovy, jazzy pink tie Abhinav wore, a tie I would wan't to own one day, a tie i would like to be seen buried wearing (or wearing buried,as the case maybe!

Professions ! Professions !

After having tried my hands at alchemy, growing cocoa in Central America and playing music( to the extent of eliciting a wonderful cacophony), i have finally decided to get rid of the world's financial problems by choosing, or rather, being forced to choose to become a Chartered Accountant.

Well, since i hate numbers, spreadsheets and tortuous laws, i feel i have always been destined to try my hands at this as yet ominous profession too.

On second thoughts, however, i might plan to buy out CNN [ yes , thats CNN ] , if time permits, once i figure out what i might do with it.
[ DISCLAIMER :: In clear violation of all existing (and non-existant) copyright laws , my local cd rental guy has named his small haven of "camera - phrint " hindi movies and tons of sleaze as CNN!]

After the ambitious take-over(even old Teddy can't prevent me from this! Ha! HA!) , I plan to rightfully hand over all existing sleaze to Satya(with the potential risk of losing a potential super customer), all movies with treasures and paheli's and anything even remotely connected to them to Ol' King Amar, all racing movies (yes, Dhoom included) to Deepash, the tear-jerkers to Shreyas(i promise , Shreyas, if ur reading this, to apologise for this over the phone) and the ever famous Rajni's to Deepak ofcourse.

But thats if at all i plan to take over.
Till then, adios!

Crap, Crap, Crap, I write, who will read my blog!/ Tu Tuu Tutu Tu Tu Tu

I hate writing two blogs within a span of 2 minutes! But i still have to do it . ( I can tell my mom i am increasing my typing speed if she asks me what i do on the comp typing away rapidly)

So, am i going to regularly update the blog??
Well, obviously,
NO!

Do i like reading my own blog?
Well, obviously,
NO, again!

Does Jain College rule?
Yeah, i know, u can answer this too.,
NO!(phew!)

Do i know that i am writing crap?
How can u know this unless u read minds? That too through a computer;)
The answer to this is ,
well,
obviously,
YES!

Hence, I stop!

Well, I hate Cracking exams anyway

Seems like my 17 years (of unemployment ) have been gracefully extended to maybe 40 ( I love being optimistic, always.)
And i have also caught the Amar bug!
I have started loving puzzles, blogging , thinking!, and doing nothin' at all.
By the way, is this curable?? Hopefully not!

Bye for now.

P.S. Why the heck did i put this when have nothing more to say??
Amar, help!!!

Finally....the countdown begins

Finally i have my own blog. An ominous time to start one becoz this blog is being created just a day before my IIT screening exam(possibly the most important exam since my 17 yrs of unemployement). I really really want to crack this exam...and hope i do it........