Jang Goes Mad.......again!

WIMWI !

2008-06-03T02:23:00.001+05:30

Period.

Stalked.

2007-09-04T01:38:00.000+05:30

I think I'm being stalked by some person near home. We could have a nice chat only if that person just showed himself/herself.

Being stalked is cool, no?

Erongi.

2007-08-23T00:30:00.000+05:30

I love ignoring you all.

Gah.

2007-08-18T01:15:00.001+05:30

I think I need to start blogging again.

Gah till then.

H.

2007-05-12T22:16:00.000+05:30

Damn. I'm hungry.

Movies

2006-10-23T12:38:00.000+05:30

I have quite a long movie backlog now. Here it is.

American Beauty
~~Being John Malkovich~~
2/3rds of The Blair Witch Project
Fanaa
Kkrish
~~1/4 th of an episode of Mind Your Language~~
19 Episodes of Arrested Development, Season 1.
Date Movie (Voted one of the Worst movies ever. I wanted to see how worse worse can get.)
Every thing except the first 2 minutes of Golmaal
Munich
Open Season
~~Qayamat Se Qayamat~~ Tak
Scrubs Season 1 - 102, 106, 107, 109, 111 to 124
Mission Impossible 3
The Credits of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire
Superman Returns
Run Lola Run
The Constant Gardener
Forrest Gump

Gah! I need more time.

Changes

2006-10-12T23:17:00.000+05:30

Ahhh. I had a three hour exam today. Finished it in one hour straight.

And so, I had a lot of time to introspect on a few finer things that have changed over this past year.

I have grown taller, by half a quarter of a centimeter. (Yaah! Yay!!)

I have got a lot worse at bowling, the best of my worst being six gutters in a row.

My hair is beginning to set. Ouch.

I’m spending a lot less.

I’m laughing a lot more, often at myself.

I’m laughing a lot more, especially at the ridiculous things some of our teachers do.

I just discovered that I can write the most tear – stirring answers possible. My additional English answer yesterday was a masterpiece.

I have got a lot more defiant. Taking a cue from THW, I started of an answer today with “It would be foolish not to assume that….”. I can hardly wait for my corrected answer script.

I’ve studied 2 and half hours max, for the four exams put together so far. I think I have chances of maxing atleast three.

I’ve begun to leave answers unanswered for kicks. Yesterday, I left 20 marks. Cause I didn’t feel like writing anymore.

I have begun to understand poetry, in bits and pieces.

I no longer find exams scary. Not one bit.

I’ve got a lot more religious. As well as industrious.

I discovered that “Absent to attend my own marriage” is a good excuse to get more attendance. Many thanks to THW for this too.

I can write amazingly defiant letters.

I can use 18 different synonyms for the word masterful and create a 4 page answer, repeating the same line over and over again.

THW’s paper rockets are highly overrated. They might be the best crashers though.

Edit :: Just read THW's blog. Lots of similarities.

Scary Movie Part II

2006-10-12T23:10:00.000+05:30

This is a sequel to the first movie. It starts off where the previous left off.
I hate the ending. It's horrible.
But I'm posting it so that I can be done with it. It's been too long in production.
I need to move on.

Yawwwwn.

2006-10-10T17:18:00.000+05:30

Long hiatus, no?

Apparently yeah.

Well, the problem is I have nothing to study. And no studying means I have stopped using my brain for sometime. Which means I can’t blog. College tells me my B.Com exams are in progress. But they don’t count as studying. I think even my brain has rusted.

Nevertheless, I’m getting back to full time studying beginning next week. Which means I shall see a lot more action on this blog.

Anyway, see y........
* dogs pulls the author away from the computer.

Oh. I just realized I didn’t have a dog.

Yeah, so , bye.

Friends.

2006-07-24T23:49:00.000+05:30

Dedicated to my friend Satya, a.k.a. Sataract, who's going to leave Bangalore soon. Miss you man.

I remember so, so many things about what I used to do as a kid that it becomes impossible for me to narrate them all. I often just burst out laughing when I think of what I used to do as a kid.

Well, this is one of those which I wouldn’t mind sharing with all. (The others which I would mind sharing include me going out on my first date with this sweet older girl, all of five years. I was four then. And there are so many others which I wouldn’t even mention).

Well, after I joined school, I was pretty much of an introvert. I would hardly ever speak to anyone at school, except my immediate partner who always ended up becoming my best friend for the year. Now this seclusion from the rest of the world made me a very creative bloke then. I did everything I could at home. I would throw down stuff from the fourth floor at people walking down the road. I was obsessed with cutting paper, in pieces so tiny the nanotech scientist folks at MIT would roll their eyes in astonishment.

I would celebrate my “birth time” every single day, and force my parents to call me up to wish me then too. I never insisted on gifts and so they were more than obliging to wish me a “Happy Birth Time” every single day. I made imaginary tents with chairs and bed sheets and go camping in the living room.

But the best part of it all was that I had an imaginary friend. I have often included hidden references to the friend all over my blog in the past. He was like no other. I will not reveal his name because it’s too personal. I totally believed he lived. (I think I still do, which is pretty much freaky).

I would get pissed with my classmates if they would sit next to me because they were taking up my friend’s place. I asked my mom to pack extra for him, and she played along pretty well. I soon realized my friend had a pretty bad appetite and ended up gobbling all the food.

I even used to play for my friend as Luigi in Super Mario Bros. And he was quite unlike me, the little friend of mine. He used to talk, and a lot. It’s was like a strange voice giving a running commentary about everything. And I thoroughly enjoyed it all.

I realized much later on that we were so much like Calvin and Hobbes.

CA

2006-07-14T17:44:00.000+05:30

I cleared my CA PE 1 exam.

Muhahaha.

Not bad.

Shot Down Dead

2006-07-11T20:20:00.000+05:30

I hate getting myself shot with a camera, especially for those dumb passport size photographs. Realizing I couldn’t go on using my photograph shot when I was a cheeky 12 year old forever, I drove myself to the photographer’s studio this week to get myself a new set of photographs.

“60 photographs in 60 rupees”, the banner in his studio screamed. With a portrait of a lady smiling sheepishly at the camera. Heck, I thought, cheap! Well, apparently no. He tried to convince me to go in for 4 “instant” photographs that would cost me 40 bucks. I said no. And I pointed to the banner.

He then put forth the option of me having my portfolio shot for 2000 bucks because, apparently, “I was so cute”(which has loosely been translated from kannada) and was a potential super-model. Nice marketing, I thought, but I said no again. And I pointed to the banner again.

Unrelenting, he gave me another option. This time, he said he would deliver 20 photographs by this evening and throw in a CD of my photographs all for 100 bucks. I sighed. And pointed to the banner.

Peeved, and having failed at all attempts to convince me to go in for anything but that offer, his hitherto smooth, silky voice suddenly became gruffy. He told me that I wouldn’t get the photographs until a whole day later. I wouldn’t mind that, I told him.

He then invited me to a dimly lit room, with a camera on his rather plump figure. He pointed to what apparently looked like a ruler. It was a comb, I later found out, with most of its tooth missing and shards of hair sticking obnoxiously. Some gel too was offered. I declined to both. The cheeky brat that the fellow was, he simply refused to shoot a photograph of mine before I combed my hair.

I hate combing my hair, it just pisses me off. I disobeyed, and told him, just shoot. He gave a growl, and out of nowhere flicked on a switch. Suddenly, the room was flooded with light. I noticed strange umbrellas that covered the spotlights. He asked me to go sit on the lone seat at the centre. He asked me what background would I like. I asked him what choices I had.

He replied Hollywood, Bollywood, waterfall and solid colours. Not a bit adventurous, I chose the solid colour.

Then, he asked me to smile. I tried hard. Really hard. The tension on my face was evidently visible because the photographer immediately started laughing himself. I stared at him, and he replied, “Smile, not frown”. I sighed. And I gave up. It’s just impossible to smile at nothing. But he didn’t understand.

I ordered, “Just shoot”. He said “Smile”. I said “Shoot, or I leave”.

And click. I went blind.

Or so I thought. Stupid flashes. He said, come tomorrow.

The next day, I went to collect my photograph. And with the first look, I immediately burst out laughing loud. It was as if someone had punched me in my face. I told the photographer, show someone this the next time they are unable to smile.

Happy with my new photographs (60 of them!), I sailed home singing.

Edit:: I haven’t changed much since I was twelve. Not bad.

Classics.

2006-06-25T21:46:00.000+05:30

Mozart. No. 25.

Delightful.

Busy

2006-06-24T22:34:00.000+05:30

Too busy, doing nothing at all.

!

2006-06-16T00:55:00.000+05:30

The web continues to amaze me. In this last one year, there have been so many cool things happening to the web that I didn't think was possible previously. Check out Windows Live site for instance. It's so much like a desktop application. Or the Google Spreadsheet thing.

My friend tells me he's downloaded MSN Messenger 8 beta. It's actually Windows Live Messenger. The Vista era seems to be drawing close. You can actually chat appearing offline to everyone else while you're are it. And share folders. Those are features that I'd want.

Google Earth, Youtube, Wikipedia ofcourse, the list can just go on. The web is just getting better. And better. And better.

2006-06-11T12:21:00.000+05:30

But within moments, several scientists began to have second thoughts. Fermi became temporarily ill from the stress and worry. Oppenheimer at first remarked that his confidence in the human mind had been restored, but later, quoting from the epic Hindu poem, the Bhagavad-Gita, he solemnly observed, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” James Tuck of the British Mission summed up the thoughts of many who watched the cloud roil the summer sky: “What have we done?”

Paying For My Sins.

2006-06-08T18:18:00.000+05:30

I’m not sure what it is about these librarians. I think they’ve all evolved into this strange new sub-species Homo Sapiens smile-and-your-dead or something.

I am acquainted with a few librarians, and not one has ever smiled, or exchanged even a “Hello” glance. Probably it’s something about me. Our school librarian always smiled, but I later found out that she had a huge crush on this friend of mine with who I generally was most of the time. She just loved that bloke, DJ, I shall call him. She waved of fines of Rs. 50 and upwards for him, her sweetheart. ( I know I’ll be killed next time I meet him.) She searched for every book he ever wanted to refer to. My spies even tell me she’s been to his house (highly classified and unconfirmed).

Nevertheless, I have never met with such luck. They are grumpy with me. Think of me as a pestering goon. Think I was born to pester.

And they always give a nonchalant response to whatever I ask.

Me: Good evening ma’am. How do you do?

Lib: Now what do you want?

Me: Er, do you have Lord of the Rings, perchance?

Lib: No.

Me: Er, do you have The Shannara Series then?

Lib: No!

Me: Oh, you should be having John Grisham, right?

Lib: No!

Me: Tintin?

Lib: No!!

Me: Eragon?

Lib: No!!!

Me: Shakespeare?

Lib: Yes!

Me: Charles Dic….yes? Yes? Where?

Lib: Search for yourself.

Me: Can you tell me how the books are indexed then?

Lib: No.

Phew. They pester me to no ends. I sat at the library for an hour. Searching for the book. Turns out they have quite a treasure there. I’ll be frequenting it more often now.

And then, they have this habit of talking in hushed tones so feeble, it’s like you’re at someone’s funeral.

Lib: Hush hush hush ppsss psss.

Me: I’m sorry, ma’am , I really didn’t get you. Could you please repeat?

Lib: Hush hush hush ppsss psss.

Me: (I bend closer) (A Bit louder) What??

Lib: Don’t you dare shout in the library!(Quite loud this time) I said, “did you sign in the register when you came in”.

Me: Oh….no. I’ll do that now.

And then, they are all so scholarly. A pair of glasses sit quite comfortably on all their noses. Like they have been there for eons. I once was so bold as to ask a old librarian to suggest some good books to read. And that was the best lecture I’ve ever got. He started, and except for a few gulps of fresh air, spoke at length in a monotone about how each needs to discover his own taste, genre by experience and not by an other man’s efforts.

I sighed in disbelief. And I sighed again.

They get all their lives to read, and read they do. And a lot. And wise they get. They shun the other species soon enough. But they are all amazing. Eccentric odd balls. But amazing people. Just one advice: Stay away.

Placebos?

2006-06-07T01:16:00.000+05:30

Things I have before me while I’m studying:

A cap or hat. Anything that keeps my head covered. Makes me feel that what's going in is gonna stay there. (Helps really).

A Bottle of water.

My trusty Hero pen, with black ink. Blue ink is pathetic methinks.

A calculator in which I can punch in numbers accurately without checking.

Lots, and I mean lots, of rough sheets to work on, or write on, or scribble on, or draw on.

Some tiny toy to mess around with.

A list of things I’d like to do after the exams for which I’m studying, which I never get around to do later on.

A book ;)

Something interesting on my pin board.

A nice chair. Comfortable, but not very.

Something to munch on.

I have never known any of these to help me, or improve anything. They are just mere placebos. Things that keep me studying.

2006-06-04T20:13:00.000+05:30

V - Log

It's my first video. People, please be generous.

Broadband.

2006-06-02T17:48:00.000+05:30

No more limits. Yippee.

Guilty

2006-05-31T21:12:00.000+05:30

I tore up a library book in class 8 to do a school project.

I have regretted doing that ever since.

Extra Dots. Anyone?

2006-05-24T21:59:00.000+05:30

I have been eternally obsessed with joining dots.

I see a dot. I see another dot. I join them. Simple?

No.

As a kid, I forced my dad to my buy me truckloads of Join-The-Dots book. Then, I slowly started dropping a pen on paper from a certain height. I left a nice concoction of dots on the paper which I could join. Joining gave me pleasure. More pleasure than playing with cars or bikes or guns.

My mom thought I was weird. Now I know what it is. I live in my head. And I have a fantastic life there.

There’s nothing more enjoyable to a kid who ran around home in tiny shorts than watching an image come to life by joining a few dots.

Eventually, my obsession became a passion. The passion a fixation.

Heck, I even bought a dot matrix printer so that I could join dots.

Then, the problems started arising. Every other examination I had to write was an OCR multiple choice questions. Nerd that I was, I would quickly complete the entire paper. And then stare.

I would stare at what I had done. Obsessed with joining the dots, I would just join the answers I had just marked. And stare in disbelief at what I had done.

P.S. The IIT JEE paper, once dotted, looked like a mermaid. Sans clamshells.

P.P.S. No puns intended in the title.

(For a change, every part of this story is untrue.)

F.E.A.R.

2006-05-14T14:36:00.000+05:30

Every kid has his fears, and as a kid, I had mine.

Back in 2nd standard, I had this mortal fear of magic-men. There was this astrologer bugger near home, whom all called ‘Tantrik’, and he was the scariest person I’d ever met.

As a budding cricketer, I had to my credit quite a few broken windows. Now this Tantrik bugger, whom we shall call, well, ‘Tantrik bugger’ had a nasty habit of scaring little children.

He lived in a tiny one room house at the back end of an alley where we played. The ball, guided by mysterious cosmic forces and a bat, always ended up right in front of the house. Being the youngest, and littlest, of those who played, I was always asked to fetch. And fetch I did.

And then, one day, it happened. The Tantrik bugger came out just as I was fetching the ball. I saw him for the first time. An extremely short man, he had a small pony tail, was bald otherwise, and stared at me with those piercing eyes. That’s still the scariest set of eyes I’ve ever set my eyes on.

His house door stood ajar, and I peeped in. His house smelt weird, had all kinds of idols in it and a good share of red light. Now, to a kid hardly 8, that was S-C-A-R-Y. As I was about to get the ball, the Tantrik bugger shouted out aloud from behind. In fluent kannada, and with a good deal of stammering, he warned me to not play around his house. He also said that he would eat me alive if he did. I was scared. Real scared. (I later on, in class 4, when I was reading Great Expectations, found out exactly how Pip must have felt.)

Petrified, I took the ball, threw it at my brother (who was incidentally batting) and ran crying to my house. I refused to come out of the house for a good ten days. I even stopped cycling out of fear of that Tantrik bugger. When my dad finally noticed my sudden obsession for dolls rather than my cycle, he asked me what was wrong.

I narrated what had happened. And next thing I know, I was being dragged to that Tantrik’s house by my dad. I thought, heck, I’m being sacrificed. My dad knocked. I peeped in, hoping he wouldn’t be at home. But unfortunately he was.

He opened the door and actually invited my dad, and me, inside. When my dad narrated what was plaguing me, that bugger actually burst out laughing, claiming he was only joking and even offered me chocolates. Heck. Like I believed him! (I took the chocolates though). I knew he would gobble me up the next time he would see me alone.

Soon we left; my dad told me that I shouldn’t be scared.

I won’t, I told him.

I would, I knew.
The next day, we played cricket, the ball went in again. I was asked to fetch. I showed them my tongue, made faces, and said you fetch. They did. And every time thereafter. I never saw the Tantrik bugger again.

And thank god I didn’t.

(For a change, every part of this story is real.)

Busy Bee.

2006-04-17T00:27:00.000+05:30

Amigo!

My mind is clouded with the Historical And Theoretical Perspectives of Management, drawing ANOVA tables, drafting bids and tenders, calculating annuities and calculating Consignment profits.

Yep. Exams.

Ciao. Till the 6 th of May.

Hout

2006-04-06T13:09:00.000+05:30

HOUT

<----------

Ref:
-JG
--GE
---CD

Innovations...

2006-04-04T17:31:00.000+05:30

Weird pinwheels that stop as soon as you step on it. Flashy, colourful lights that remind you of a discotheque, enclosed in a 2x2 box. Weird guttural noises emanate from them, inviting you closer, and stop as soon as you step on it. A hypnotist’s wheel rotates lazily, round and round and round, inviting you even closer, to step on it and stare into the mysterious labyrinths of the future.

Yeah, they are the Weighing Machines, found at almost every railway station and bus stop and innocuously absent from every where else.

These weird machines which I’ve always likened to a more colourful guillotine are the strangest of gadgets ever invented. They hiss, clink, clank, have neon lights that tempt people, and at the offering of a Rupee coin, sputter out a card.

These machines are guilty of having made millions of children cry, children who have begged and begged with heartless parents for a rupee. Always wrong, never right, they are the ultimate, most fascinating machines ever invented.

These machines are endowed with miraculous psychedelic powers, powers that hypnotize minds against the worthlessness of the machines. They are also known to possess artificial intelligence, intelligence which the scholars at MIT having been trying to develop for years, but already perfected in these machines.

Displaying weights in kilograms, they always tend to offshoot by a few 10’s of kilos. And the back sides of the cards are the most fascinating part of the machine.

I shall quote an example.

Spit into the spittoons only.
Your Future for today:

SUDDEN travel and change of place may be imminent. Be prepared.

YOUR LUCKY NUMBER : 13.

Now, how the machine knows that I’ve come to the railway station to travel and not to mine Plutonium, I do not know. Maybe it is the artificial intelligence bequeathed on the machine.

Further, the machine is known to accept all coins, 1’s, 2’s and 5’s without complaining. Often, it even screams in help if a slightly obese person alights on it (It may be a technical malfunction too. I do not know.)

Next time you go to the station, try one, and wonder at the ingenuity of modern man.(Or woman).

Bugger. Bugger.

2006-03-30T12:02:00.000+05:30

‘Bugger’ must me, arguably, the most under rated useful word in English.

It is a word that can be used in every context, in every situation. A word that acts as a substitute when you can think of no other words. A word to start a conversation. A word a class apart.

Take, for example, it being used as an exclamation.

“Bugger, look, bearded man!”

Or as a question,

“Want to attend next class, bugger?”

Or even as a statement of pure boredom.

“Bugger, I am bugged.”

Its versatility is only matched by the word, Ugh!.

Then, there are cases when you can use it express anger.

“Bugger, I’ll bloody bugger him.”

Or as a proper noun.

“From now on, call me Bugger.”

Or as a request.

“Please, let us not attend this class, bugger.”

Or an order.

“You are not attending the next class bugger.”

OR just a statement.

“Bugger, look, pencil.”

“Bugger, look, bald man.”

“Bugger, you are a bugger.”

“I hate you bugger.”

Or of course, just,

“Bloody bugger.”

“Bugger”.

I’ve even received inside reports that “Système International d'Articlés” is planning to make the word bugger as the fourth article. A, an, the and bugger.

P.S. All these statements were made keeping in mind a certain person. The first example, however, is an international copyright.

Battle Of The Beetles.

2006-03-20T23:58:00.000+05:30

A lone window stood open, rattling against the wind.

And ZOOM!

It flew into my room, straight towards my study lamp, which was surprisingly on today. Scuttling towards my economics book, it stopped there, looking at me menacingly. Yes, it was the dreaded black tiger beetle, or in lay man terms, a creature of the

Kingdom: Animalia
Phylum: Arthropoda
Class: Insecta
Order: Coleoptera
Suborder: Adephaga
Family: Carabidae
Subfamily: Cicindelinae

Being the non violent person that I am, I tried coaxing it to return to the place it had come from. Never smash an insect, my pet spider had once told me (he asks me to tell you the same. So, please, never kill an insect.)

Using all forms of politeness, deceit, coaxing and non violence I could think of, I tried to shoo it away from my room.

First, I complimented him on his gorgeous, handsome, cute looks. A glimmering black body, six slender legs, two feelers, he was the prettiest beetle I had ever seen, or at least that’s what I told him. He refused to move away, instead flying of further near the curtain and making himself comfortable there. It was then that I noticed him vividly. This weird creature had a pair of eye-like spots on his butt. Eeew! No wonder he didn’t get flattered.

Then, trying something different, I decided to sing to him. Not known to be the best singer in a million years, I relished in pleasure at having an audience to my songs, finally.(The last time I sang, I received a single slipper from some one on the road, my neighbour called the fire brigade and my brother took chloroform.)

So, I sang a paean of admiration for him. One, which I shall reproduce here.

Beetle, beetle, Oh! My lovely beetle,
Do you want me to hustle you into a bottle?
Get out of my room,
Else you shall taste my broom.
You look cute,
And a bit astute,
Get out of my room,
Or it’ll be your doom.
You are very pretty,
And have spots that look shitty,
But please, Get out of my room,
Else you shall never be a groom.

I shall never know what offended him so much, the last line of my paean or me trying to sing this in the tune of Beethoven’s 5^th Symphony, but right after this, this cunning fellow flew right at me. Yelping, I ran out of the room, coming back later and bringing with me reinforcements.

Namely, the broom.

Gently trying to coax him onto the broom, I employed reverse psychology on this hapless creature. I told him about the splendid prospects of finding a bride outside, told him about the doom he faces at the hands (or rather stomach) of a lizard inside my room and went on and on about the banes of staying here.

That’s when it dawned on me.

Heck, this creature has no ears. It’s bloody deaf.

Nearly giving up, I tried shooing it away with the broom. Then, I tried to switch off the light in the hope that he would go away. All to no avail. I used every trick known to mankind to coax him out of the window. But failure, failure and more failure.

Finally, I gave up. It annoyed me by constantly fluttering its wings to annoy me. But I ignored him over and over again. And just when I least expected it, that fellow just flew out of the window!

Heck, I could be an entomologist!

Coco-Nuts!

2006-03-05T22:48:00.000+05:30

Warm wind blows across my face. It’s the onset of summer. I stand by, looking out of my window.

And CRASH!

Another one bites the dust.

The southern states in India have been blessed with the majestic coconut trees. And come summer, the leaves begin to fall down one after the other.

What follows after every leaf-falling episode is an enduring debate, an open debate, participated in by beedi smoking grandpas, children hardly up on their feet, aunts, uncles and roadside ‘uncles and aunties’.

All the houses in my neighbourhood have coconut trees flanking their entrances. And thus, I am sanctified with the hallowed distinction of prying into their conversations.

Immediately after the fall, the entire neighbourhood arrives to grace the occasion to ascertain the cause of commotion. Then, the person closest to the fallen leaf declares his fortitude, remarking how he was standing right below the monstrous leaf before Chunnu or Munnu had beckoned him inside. He then hugs Chunnu or Munnu and thanks the almighty. Then, the other person nearby looks up to the tree with wide eyed wonder and thinks out, aloud, as to how grand the leaves are. He goes on to stare for a few more minutes as though a few more leaves might come crashing down. Content that there would be none, he moves to the nearest parked vehicle and examines it with an eye of an insurer for a scratch. He too, then blesses the almighty.

Then, the aunt comes along to drag away her children who are playing nearby, even though they may be miles away from the leaf. She too looks up to the nearest tree, nods her head in disapproval and wonders why a coconut couldn’t have fallen instead.

The nearest roadside idle ‘uncle’ or ‘aunt’ then come along to grace the occasion, with a toothy smile and a graphic description of how their neighbour’s brand new scooter was smashed to smithereens by another such rogue leaf. The listeners nod their head in approval.

Since all conversations eventually always end up with the government, the teenage whiz kid arrives and exclaims out aloud as to why the government does nothing about these rogue leaves.

Spirituality finds a place in the discussion too. Grandma, flanked by her two grandchildren comes along to explain how coconut trees never fall on people and that the tree is mighty and intelligent. On protests by some less spiritual hooligans, she adds a clause that the trees make an exception for those who sin. She then stares up at the sun and asks beckons everyone else to do the same. She, playing ‘Simon Says’, asks everyone to then look down. All do so in unison.

Finally she declares that whoever can see nothing but black needs to mend his way else the coconut tree shall ensure his/her way to hell. Before anyone can retort, she walks off, grunting.

Grandpa acknowledges, chuckles, and puffs out another beedi.

My-steries

2006-02-28T17:23:00.000+05:30

Life is full of mysteries; it just depends on where you look.

-Donnie Darko ;)

There are so many paradoxes in life, some I cannot understand, most I do not want to understand, and on the rest, I blog about.

Have you walked into Coffee Day?

Yes?

Have you ever watched T.V. there?

Yes?

Then, pray, for heaven’s sake, why do they mute the T.V and play English music on their in-house jukebox?

Around a month back, at one of these Coffee Day’s, it was delightful to watch Himesh Reshammiya singing Britney Spears’ “You’ve got me crazy” at the top of his voice.

Otherwise, it’s a news reporter head banging in front of the Supreme Court singing the Cranberries’ Zombie.

Or Lalu Prasad singing “I’m a Barbie girl”.

But, I am told, I have the uncanny ability to see through hidden motives. This time too, I’ve succeeded. Coffee Day is acting in the interest of the public. It’s making us burn the calories our drinks are loaded with by making is laugh. Cunning.

Ad. Recommendation:: Maxim’s new television ad. Cunning again.

Just Another Day

2006-02-22T10:54:00.000+05:30

I feel just the same as I did yesterday.

Some thoughts...

2006-02-15T17:30:00.000+05:30

I like desolation. Especially, when it’s awful.

I would like to sit in the middle of a desert, staring at the lone tree that has survived.

Or on a frozen lake, looking at the fishes through a small hole in the ice.

Or in the middle of a classroom during an exam with everyone is staring at me expecting answers, when I know none.

That, to me, would be blissful.

Song Recommendation::

Baa Baa Black Sheep. Or if you’re into heavy stuff, try Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Both, I strongly recommend.

Stats yet again!

2006-02-10T12:47:00.000+05:30

Sigh!!!

Controversies.

Nevertheless, it’s been a good week for me. The cube takes me a maximum of 5 minutes. My results haven’t come out, yet. Exams start next week again, I’ve yet to buy books.

Yeah, that is what would qualify as a week good enough for me.

Yesterday, three of my best friends went out for a movie that I should have gone out for too(Uppi Dada M.B.B.S). Too bad I missed it. But, well it was time well spent at home anyway. Being the type of person that relinquishes the little free time I get, I imported an activity normally reserved for Multiple Choice exams.

Yes, I tossed coins. A Re.1 coin, minted 2001.

I tossed it once, heads.

I tossed it twice, heads again.

Thrice, heads yet again.

Four times, five times all the way up to sixty eight times.

The heads to tails ratio came out to an astonishing 45:23. Now, my statistics book tells me I am wrong, really wrong.

So, to test my hypothesis, I took a Re.2 coin. Minted 2003.

Well, again, the ratio was 42:26.

That got me thinking. Now, it’s only the second time that something so dramatic has happened to me.(I am obviously talking about me thinking).

So, are the coins in India biased towards heads?? Now, now, before you start barraging me with the choicest of abuses, let me assert. They are not biased.

But I, as my own personal opinion say, that yes, they are biased.

Now, it’s only to be found out whether my statistics teacher will buy my argument.

I hope he does.

Yeah Baby!

2006-01-26T17:41:00.000+05:30

Words look better when they are highlighted.

Codeeee

2006-01-26T17:03:00.000+05:30

Stats Exam's Approaching

2006-01-25T18:04:00.000+05:30

The demography of the readers of my blog reveals strange results.

Around 47% of my readers are from Serbia-Montgomery. Apparently, Serbs like goofy people in goofy costumes posing in goofy postures at goofy locations and they are a rage there.

A friend from Ukraine also called up to tell me that my blog was being advertised on National Television there. There are, apparently, secret anti-smoking messages in my blog. I didn’t know they were any.

Indians form a sizable 22%, Red Indians 2% and I can even claim to have a reader from Antarctica who contributes a whopping 0.16% to my readership.

Cypriots claim 6% of my readership and dear ol’ Americans make up 14.2%. The rear is brought about by Paki’s, Danes, Finns and Latvians.

To you all I say, Thank You.

Jang gone mad, really mad.

2006-01-24T20:55:00.000+05:30

WARNING: None of this will make sense. This is for my memory. Don’t read further.

Rascal!

These last two days were horrible, tormenting, agonizing, ghastly, awful and terribly boring.

I, with my college compatriots, was asked to attend this anguishing program called “Vishwa- Chaitanya”. Now, there were people complaining about Satanic messages hidden in the program. I am not sure. I was too sleepy to notice anything significant.

There were a number of specimens of the most evolved category who spoke to us about various topics. And since I am not a sadist always, I shall not torment you too by rehearsing what we learnt, or at least what we were supposed to learn.

What was most tormenting of all was that we were not allowed to keep phones. What is generally a saving grace during boring lectures in college here were deprived from us poor, hapless souls.

And while we were there, we were taught the essence of erotic, ridiculous postures and the benefits of them to the human body. We also were given the chance to observe that candles have a transparent vacuum like thing in between, although we were expected to learn the power of concentration while this was happening.

The funniest character there was this Colonel dude. He was a gem, a person whom I’ll remember for at least some hours to come.

He was a dictator-lunatic-Pa , in the order to which he likened himself. This rascal of a person had the bile to dictate terms with our class kingpin, GK. I felt so very insulted. He also commended us stupid people for having taken up commerce, a subject which requires no thinking at all. We were flattered.

He also claims to have invented war simulators (LoSeR??) or something on the lines of that with the knowledge of trigonometry and without the knowledge of Calculus. A great contribution indeed to mankind. He loved speaking about “bombing the Paki’s”, and his tendency to bunk college. I loved him for his guts, and hated him for his guts.

As if all this was not enough, a frightening old lady, who would be celebrating her 216^th birthday this year, taught us how to concentrate better using the mind. Pa’s classes’ coaching paid off. I dozed with my eyes wide open.

The lady still gives me the creeps. Imagine driving on a state highway at night. It’s dark all around. And there’s no one in front, no one behind. Out of nowhere, an old lady draped in white appears right in the middle of the road. It was scary, especially when the highway was an auditorium and the room was completely dark.

I need a psychiatrist.

Of Fevers and Alibis!

2006-01-16T16:37:00.000+05:30

I Am Back!

- Janginator!

Or rather, I was here all the time. Or so thinks my Principal who has just been bestowed with the prestigious job of collecting leave-letters. That, I am told, is his 626^th skill, and describing the other skills he is adept at would require me starting a new blog and hence I shall abstain from doing so.

Everyone had different opinions as to where I was. Closest was my neighbour who thought I had been (finally) locked up in Tihar Jail. Avin, a compatriot of mine thought that I had taken to frequent the M.G.Road benches at 2 in the night and hence, my absence in class. My class teacher and now even my Princi thinks poor little me was suffering from Typhoid.

But, well, I had been to a short vacation to a chilly place to just do what I do here all the time; sleep.

The only difference there was me discovering a few more facts about the novel art of sleeping. Here is a short excerpt for my upcoming thesis.

For one, you cant sleep in the Thar Desert with your eyes open. It’s too windy and sandy there, not to mention it being chilly. Sleeping in a Royal Palace is not bad unless you mind the predatory eyes of a throng of foreigners eyeing you like your some mysterious Baba from ancient India. Sleeping on roof tops is acceptable, if you love watching a million stars and don’t mind being frozen icicle the next morning.

(You can obtain my entire thesis by paying me M-o-n-e-y. Lots of it,)

Another question I have often been asked since I returned is how the chicks there were?

Well, just the same Madu Jain College kind of chicks, with a little more clothes on (summers, I assure you, would make me feel right at home there).

Since I have realized that I am just rambling about, I shall leave with just one pic of my tour, in funky attire and all. Chic!

Reminder Service!

2005-12-24T00:34:00.000+05:30

Oh, almost forgot.

Here's a sweet gentle reminder.

Remember?

Ok, so get them all for me.

Merry Christmas!

A tribute!

2005-12-24T00:29:00.001+05:30

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!

2005-12-15T22:33:00.000+05:30

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

2005-12-03T23:20:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-12-02T19:54:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-11-14T13:51:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-11-11T19:04:00.000+05:30

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

2005-11-04T01:26:00.000+05:30

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

2005-10-26T01:54:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-10-23T00:31:00.000+05:30

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.

2005-10-21T13:07:00.001+05:30

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

2005-10-18T12:53:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-10-16T19:28:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-10-13T00:57:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-10-05T21:16:00.000+05:30

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

2005-10-04T14:42:00.000+05:30

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

2005-09-24T20:32:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-09-20T15:17:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-09-17T19:51:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-09-14T20:46:00.000+05:30

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!

2005-09-12T23:50:00.000+05:30

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 !

2005-09-12T23:32:00.000+05:30

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

2005-09-09T14:27:00.000+05:30

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

2005-09-09T14:21:00.000+05:30

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

2005-04-09T14:54:00.000+05:30

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........