Tuesday, December 25, 2012

College Story: Assignments, Viva and other Blood suckers



This post is purely dedicated to few studious minds of our class. They are such a god gifted talent that they can ruin their own college life along with ruining others. From fighting for attendances to spoiling the mass bunks, they will do everything to blew the lid off from some average minds like me.

 Before entering into college boundaries I had heard about the fantastic ‘I-Don’t-Give-A-Damn’ style life in engineering, now I curse those mouths from where these words oozed. With my admission in first year I was quite sure of having the fun at the fullest but with advancement in semesters; our rights kept on getting suppressed, one after the other.


Our college wasn't like this before. A great lawn to sit on, common subjects (which was simply unifying each branch with the bond of commonness), fairly good teachers except the orthodox kind like farha and the real daughter of ‘Hitler’ Sama Jain, and last but not the least, lot of single girls to take a chance on, were few factors which somehow kept the hope alive that yes, this life could get better and better with passing semesters. But all hopes bite the dust as all we progressively faced are harsher rules, cunning teachers and fast paced commitments which claimed some of the pretty faces of our college.


1st Year:


There were nothing like rigid rules in 1st year. IT/CS branch were ignorant of the Ramani’s Effect (HOD of IT/CS). We could leave and enter our college at our own will. Except only one lady figure, Sama Jain, who had been tightening the screws, and ‘Goti’ (chemistry lab in-charge, I forgot his original name) who was famous for sucking the megaminds of students on their slightest of error, others remained quite cool. There was nothing like assignments except few small questions which were never a big deal. Fraha mam was our physics teachers then and according to her philosophy, a boy and girl sitting together is not less than a sin as they could develop sexual arousal any day and do what this society doesn’t give permission to do before marriage (Rebuilding the era of 80s cinema). Similarly, Sama was no less than ‘dress regulator’ as she restricted the use of funky boyish apparels while making sure that the girls are not showing their flesh to the crook hunters sitting under the same roof. Thus there was a complete ban on loose t-shirts, hand bands etc. and for girls she advised to maintain transparency in their character only, not in dresses. Once when she spotted a boy wearing bob marley’s T-shirt in college, she taunted “Mall mein ghumne jar he ho kya?” Look at the spontaneity of that boy. He replied, “Nhi mam, kal ke practical ke baad jaungaa.” I don’t know if he said this in ignorance or what.      


2nd Year:


Computer geniuses were compelled to study each and every subject from each and every branch. Digital Electronics, Electronic devices and circuits, Micro-processor was giving us fully fledged experience of a crash course in Electrical department along with Computer Engineering. Further, due to shortage in syllabus few other management subjects were brutally injected. But let me tell you, these GIT management guys are not too bad as they provided us with a very nice (obviously by face) female teacher of Economics. I rarely had missed her class.


SOFT skill was taught by HARD muscle, Saundra Mam, I think the most eligible teacher of GIT. Leaving teachers and subjects the other thing haunted us were frequently changing rules including the one in which you could enter into college at your own will but can’t leave until all lectures were completed. We, the group of four friends, however found a way through under construction building of our college and started jumping a college wall which was not that long and thus made us the free bird most of the times. We meanwhile discovered few officially untraceable ‘Khopchas’ but what’s their use without a hot piece of cake beside you. After few successful attempts of wall jumping that wall got elongated and thus our movement got brutally barricaded.   


I have already wrote a lot about love stories cooked so replicating those will only hurt my ‘still-to-be-touched’ heart. Group friends kept adding the woes in 2nd year. Actually a group with many commitments is not actually a group. Then it becomes a way to enjoy moments with commitment by hiding behind the backs of group friends. It had been the case throughout this year.


3rd Year:


The beginning of 3rd year was marked by some real reshuffle. The focus was almost shifted to our own IT branch with a lot of specialized subjects but it was too late for me to develop love all over again on these subjects. The rise in the era of assignments was marked in this year only. Innocence was dumped in the bins of assignment and registers were started absorbing the inks, page after page. 

The specialized subjects lead to brain smashing programs whose complexity used to be talk of alien for us until major practicals.

 When a hard practical is being examined by a cunning teacher then all you can say is “Ye practical kisi tarah nikal jaye bas. Next baar to le lenge iss teacher ki.” “Yaar, it’s enough. Ab dhang se padhenge. Fir dekhenge saala kya bolta hai.” Practical over so our resolutions. ‘Giriraj’ (lab in chage of DBMS lab) had almost promised to handover a back to me due to my impressive performance in his subject’s practical. Actually I was supposed to run 8 queries. I was able to run just 1 and even in that query I was asked to display items sold in store but I was shamelessly showing him the full DB table believing the full table is always better than a single column. Viva was another haunted dream for me especially when Bohra sir was used to sit in front of us. Now, whatever the question was, I gave him the answer I knew and whatever the answer was, he always used to play with my emotions. My old group shattered into pairs of two and I found few more creatures to hang out with. In this same phase most of my friends in the circle lost their virginity although never discussed it among us before gutting a peg or two. I had no stories to tell. For me, arrange marriage is the only hope alive. :D


4th year:


In this running 4th year, our branch is on the verge of setting new records in copied assignments. The glorious minds of our class think that doing assignments will improve their percentage and someday Facebook will come and hire them for earning those extra percentages due to aimlessly done assignments. 



Every teacher knows that all they need to show a crumb of bread to these glorious minds and rest is assured. They will run for these crumbs rumbling their own time along with ours.

This 4th year was also blessed us with 30 days training. We played ‘Roadrash’ for 29 days and on the last day we grabbed an already made project from our mentor. How easy was that? But when you don’t actually make a project, you are actually giving a chance to your college teacher to bully you in front of whole class (in a project seminar) or give you a date to personally rape you (in viva).

As feared, day came when we (four members group, Manish, Dinesh, Me, Ashwarya) had to appear in front of ‘external’ to give a viva on project.  We, four, had already a discussion on Who does what in the project as it generally used to be the first question of teacher? Finally we appeared in front of the teacher. We told him what we had discussed earlier.


Dinesh said “I have done coding”.


“I have also done coding” manish repeated.


“Sir, I have done the testing part” Ashwarya said with ultimate confidence as if he had actually done the testing.


“My task was designing.” I whispered looking at suspicious face of the external.


“So, Ashwarya, you have done testing. Right? So tell me how many times of testing are there.” Asked external.


Confidence drowned, so does the face. Ashwarya kept twisting among words ‘Sir basically………..basically sir’…….


“Your testing procedure was manual or automatic?” he fired second question sensing a lamb, half-slaughtered already.


“Automatic” Ashwarya replied at once and we thought he might know the correct answer this time but our hope shackled by the bulling laugh of external. He had just answered that sensing the 50% probability of getting it right. On being asked about what is scope of the project he repeated the words as if he was firing back the same question to external. “Scope…………kya hota hai??? Ki………Kaise define karenge…………………………..” Ashwarya was himself choosing the correct format of the question.


“What is designing?” he asked from me and after my answer he was quite sure that we four had nothing to do with this project. Dinesh might have given few answers but the kind of impression we had on the external, it was so easy for him to negotiate 1 or 2 correct answers.


At the time of writing this piece of shi* that viva was the last one.

Exams are just over and I am now in my last phase of Engineering. Many say that 8th semester is cake walk but who knows if some cake spoilers is waiting ahead.


That's almost it. This is obviously not the concluding part of College Story. Every time when I write one, thinks of making it the last one but somehow this story is not coming to an end. So, a slightly more atayachaar on the fans of William Shakespeare.  It is such a long post and if you are reading this line then I have to admit, your patience is amazing. And now those who started reading from here only, I have just one word, Glorious minds…….:D


If you have spotted a lot of mistakes in my post you can be a part of “Let’s stop the crime on literary world” campaign by typing “Stop this College Story and delete your blog” in comment section. Till then, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all my readers and criticizers.  

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Setting-baazi, Love, Relationships etc.

Meet us! We are the so called 'Mard Jaats'. We are in abundance, 1000 for every 938 girls and demand weakens with supply. We 'Mards' have been cursed with every spell been ever made, from the 'connoisseur of sex' to 'ill mannered freak' there hardly been a single tag left with which we have never refereed to. Problem lies in our abundance.

Let me explain, I am a simple Engineering student. Talking about my class, it has around 15 girls and 45 boys and my class has one of the highest proportion of girls. The condition of core branches has always been pathetic with hardly 3 to 4 girls, in which only 1 or 2 are there without mustache. After filtering odd ones out, we only left on the mercy of 'not more than 2 to 3 pretty girls/class' on an average and for these '2 to 3 girls, whole class bang their head'. Few boys end up liking their photos on 'Facebook' and few keep proposing them over the messages in disguised form of 'love shayaris'. We boys have nothing like attitude. If a girl don't reply for half an hour we decide to not to reply to her message ever. The next second, when your mobile beeps and her name appears as sender, you happily open her message with an unusual smile and reply as soon as possible to not to lose the momentarily gained momentum. Story repeats and our pseudo commitments too. This attitude thing is really bringing a bad name for us. Problem lies in abundance, they are hens with golden eggs, we are cocks with nothing to lay.

There was a guy I don't want to take name of. When he entered our group of 6, we already had 2 couples, and two others were, me and another girl. I have an old record of being single in group of committed ones. The newly entered guy was quick enough to smell the existing dynamics. Don't know if he had a book of '101 ways to woo girls' or what, he seriously put that single girl by his side. From 'arranging chair to make her sit' to 'giving her handkerchief whenever she wanted' he did everything. She was so impressed with her new pet that she suggested me :
"Ashish, you never cares. Be like him and soon you would get your girlfriend".

I can never treat a girl like 'Abla Naaris' , specially when i am in a group of friends.

A faithful dog can soon earn an owner for him and that guy proved it.....:D

Now there is another side of story. My physics teacher had once told me that always explain others by giving them an example. Demo in terms of 'Phunsuk Wangdu' but i don't have 'Chutnney' right now. I had already given you one (not 'Chhutney', I am talking about Example.)

I was in first year of my Engineering, when i met a girl. (Not of my college). She was damn good looking. It is their look which deceives us. I was mesmerized and then followed what you can easily guess. Things went normal till the time we got committed. Later, I lost my wings and she lost her patience. We broke after 4 month of commitment.
 

According to a survey, 7 in every 10 break ups, are initiated by males. Why things take a tide against shore after commitment? What irritates the boys most, Who is really responsible?


See, I am not an expert but i have been through few relationships(I am being a super stud, it's actually 3 or say 2 because last one was an accident.) After these three/two relationships I came to know about the hidden secrets of being single. Below, listed problems are experienced by me. In your case, it can be different. Apologies to girls reading the post. Most of the facts are funny, fact is what they are :    

1). JANU/BABY/SHONA/GUDDA, I will not leave a single nickname for you:

Get ready to get 'poopies' messages from your 'GF'. It is the first pre-settled rule to get and give a nickname. A single nickname??? Not sure. You will enjoy these nicknames in the beginning with the hope that later on she would stop calling you with such annoying names, but to your regret, she will never. Her bonding with your nicknames will get stronger and stronger with time. Adding to your woes, she can discover new ones too. This is not all, she will expect a nickname for her too, and you have to reply to her messages with those names. See the demo, directly from my long deleted inbox:

"Missing you my Baby"

"Muaahh.....My bacchaa"

"Mera Shonu, monu Gudda"

They could give us a single name and we can grow an appetite for it too but no, If they can use several names, they will. 

2). Work???? What the hell is this??

Girls can never be a professional or practical in commitment. Your GF has no work to do. She sit, she sleep, she wake up with her cellphone and will keep reminding you that you have it too. If she is a hosteler, congrats, 'Aapki to Batti lag gyi'.

"Janu, Babu kya kar rha hai? Apni shona ko miss kar rha hai??" (Miss to tab karega naa jab yaad ayegi, Tu to yaad se jaati bhi nhi ki fir aa jati hai.)

From 'Good Morning' to 'Good Night', she will not leave a single event of the day. This is not all, you have to reply to all these messages.

"For her's every 'Good Morning' message there should be a counter 'Good Morning' reply from you, otherwise she can turn your 'Good morning' into What-the-hell-is-good-in-this-morning"

"Baby what are you doing?" This message simply means, you have to talk to me right now.

In the case of your excuse of work she would simply say, "Han han, tum hi busy ho. Hum to vellen hain."  and unknowingly, she is actually telling you the truth. 

3). For being my true boyfriend, You have to learn the tales of my family:

They can talk about their families for hours. Starting right from Ma-Papa, passing through Chacha-Chachi, Mama-Mami,  she will take you to her favorite cousins. Not once but many times, whenever she want, she can start with her 'Amar Chitra Katha'.

"My family cares a lot for me. My brother, my Ma-Papa, everybody loves me."

(Ohho, so your family cares for you. Lucky one, Hame to ghar se dhakke maar ke nikaal diya gya hai.)

We boys don't express what we need not to".
There is nothing like obvious in the dictionary of Girls. This 'obvious' word can shorten their endless talks so they don't care about its existence.

4). Bed Time stories : You have to listen to her every activity of the day:

I already told you that these girls have no work to do except sending you the 'Poopies' messages all day but never mind, they are good in story-telling.  

"I met my childhood friend today. Wow!!!" 

(Oh it's really exiting, provided your friend must be hot.)

"Tumhari jaanu ne aj maggi bhi khayi" 

(Oh really?? Maggi?? How did you get it. From Himalayas? Oh my baby, I am proud of you.)

"Itni garmi hai, mujhe to rashes ho gye" 

(Now what do you want, should i come and apply Boroline?)

"Aj main ladd li apne best friend se" Console her. Doesn't matter she is right or wrong, just console her.
 (Koi baat nhi baby, she does not deserve to be your friend.)

 She would tell you her future plans too.

"Kal to hum shopping pe jayenge" (................)

I really loved to keep quite on these lines. If you give her an enthusiastic reply she can call you to shopping with her other friends on too. Shopping with your Gf's friend can simply land you into 'No man's Land'. 


 5). This word "NARAAZ" :

This word has been a blockbuster in every known relationship. Being Naaraz frequently is the favorite timepass for girls. They can spend their and waste their bf's hour on this word 'Naraaz'. A normal person don't like anybody's company when he is annoyed or angry but 'Women are from Venus'.

One girl always pings me on Facebook after getting into a fight with her BF (who is friend of mine too).

"Usse bolna ki main naaraaz hun." (Oh..so you get into fight for amusement too. Obviously, he knows that you must be upset. What's left to tell him then?)

Like i earlier said, 'Obvious' do not exist in their dictionary.

"I am really breaking up with my BF." (So what, should i fill the vacancy?)

They do not think twice before sharing anything that should not be shared at that point of time.

6). Oleeeeeeeeeeee....Babyyyyyyyyy......Awwwwwwwwww:

Buy a 'pamper' and give it to your Gf. She would tug it around your waist. I can't understand the purpose behind stretching the last word to an unbearable extent. We are not babies. Are we?

B : "I get a backache/headache."
G : "Awwwwwwwwwwwwww"
B : "My hand got Injured"
G :"oleeeeeeee baby" 
B : "I am hungry"   
G : "Ooooo, mera januuuuu bhukha hai." (Keep guessing, whether she is asking it more time or just repeating your words in Cheesy Dipped language.) 

 
7). Look straight, talk with me :

When you have your own lunch box, don't try to look for what others have in theirs. We 'Mard Jaats' are 'born-flirts' for girls.
Your GF would never allow you to look at other girls. There can be two reasons behind it:

1). It would make her feel that she is not looking as pretty as the girl you are looking at.

2). She would think that his bf is not as interested in her anymore.

"I don't like when you talk with that girl. What if i start talking to XYZ?"
(Aree ja na meri maa, Kisne roka hai.)

8). Your friends have plans to kill you. Stay with me : 

A girl can never like you to be one among the bunch of boys. She keeps a record of time which you have spent with her vs. time spent with your boys group. She can never bear the fact that instead talking to her you are boozing with your friends.

"Pee rhe hoge friends ke saath. Meri to yaad aati nhi." (Tumhare saath peeyun to accha lagega kya.)

"Be Jungli, or whatever, I don't have to say a word now." (Thank god!)

"I don't have to say a word......" Girls talk a lot after delivering this line. Beware! They are from Venus. 

This isn't enough. Going for an outing with common group of friends?? Stay within the distance of 10 cm from her. Sit beside her always, hold her hand sometime to make her believe that yes, you still like her. Don't talk with other friends beyond her limit of acceptance etc. etc.

"Jao jao, ussi ko phone karo. Tab to bda ucchal ucchal ke taali maar rhe the."

This is all. I am finding no words to close this post off formally.
So, keep visiting. Fortunately, i have a comment box below this post. Drop your views and let me know what do you think.

Thank you for being with my writing.

Hasta Luego!!!!

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Boy Who polished the boots

Every morning he would sit on the farther side of road, leading to 'Ryan School'. He was a boy, hardly 9 year old, who used to polish shoes of children of that school. His boot polish store had one small carpet, few torn shoes, a steel cisterns with few pennies and a stone which acted as a raised platform where he used to put shoes to polish.
Today, there was something unusual. It was around 11.30 in morning and students were piled up for getting their shoe polished. He was quivering from one shoe to other, brushing the every bit of dirt from them with his brush and small box of 'Cherry Blossom', without knowing the reason behind such curiosity of students for getting their shoe polished.
Few minutes later, someone summoned them. There were still few left with unpolished shoes but the penny box was almost full with glittering pennies. They all ran towards the gate. After a minute or so, children came out with a large blue banner made from rayon cloth along with few others posters. It was looking like a rally as students lined on both sides of the road.
Police jeeps arrived at the spot. A policeman came to the boy.
'What are you doing here? Chal jaldi,Saamaan samet.' he threatened the boy.
Without an utter, boy folded his belongings in a wide cloth that hadn't been sewed for years, made his pocket gulp the penny box and stood by the side of 'neem' tree which was a few meter away from road's side. He was willing to see what is going on, on the most unappealing place of the world. His pocket was way heavier then it used to be on other days. He was quite sure about his meal under overhead sun and with the sum he had, he could even get food in night too.
An hour passed, students were still standing with their banners resting on ground. Suddenly their chat and buzz interrupted with several jeeps, tailing one another, and somewhere in middle of them, was a red-beacon ambassador. Students were once again on their toes, holding the banner upright. A women in white saree with maroon border came out of the ambassador with red-beacon. Children rushed to greet her and in turn she was greeting them too with a smile.
Boy was staring them all with his lid-less eyes. He couldn't listen to what the lady was saying to those children but their polished shoes were making an attempt to introduce him in the scene too. He almost forgot his heavy pocket. Minutes later, she peeped in her ambassador. Principal made his presence felt at very last moment as he gave her the good bye gesture.
Boot polisher counted the number of 'Jeeps' right passed him till 'chaar'. This is all he could count.
Blue banners held high till the crew disappeared.
'Ryan International School - We strive towards 'Right to Education' was written with silver paint, on that big blue banner.
Boy, with a boot polish store on his back, opened that steel penny-box and took out some coins. He had to buy a new 'dabba' of 'Cherry Blossom' for the next day.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Splash of Love

On the beach, I was holding sand in my palm. I slipped them and they got mingled with million others. Disappeared, Indistinguishable. "Our lives are like those sand in my palm. It slipped and we found ourselves nowhere among million other" I said.

She bent and grasped those beach sand, drenched it with the water from the bottle. Shen flipped her palm and the wet sand fell again. This time distinguishable, different from other lying nearby. We could have made our life distinct from others, but it might missed a splash of love and care.

 I asked, "Who can guess, this is we?"  pointing to those wet sand which were still lying the same way they fell.

'At least we can' she grinned.

Sea was calmly snoring. It has lost the grace it had when we were couples.  

Friday, September 7, 2012

The Only page from the diary of a lost soul

(This post does not expresses my views towards rape victims. This post has taken its shape from the instances that has been mentioned in the interview of a victim's father, published in 'Tehalka' magazine under the title "The anatomy of Rape").

They dragged me, called me a 'Ra**i'. They were ramming my body, one after the other. I was lying naked on the floor, the bruises were overpowering me as badly as they were. Hours later, my body got immune, against their every push, against the bruises i had. My muscle stopped responding and my soul too.

I woke up on the next morning. It was graveyard quietness. They left me with torn identity, torn conscience and a torn vagina. I wore my leftover pieces of clothes and came out to witness the lights of the day after whole 3 days. People were staring at me and at my leftover pieces of clothes that could barely hide anything. It didn't really matter for a 'Ran*i' who has nothing left in her body, untouched, unused.

I was watched by many people with their soul as rotten as mine. Finally, my staggering body got one shoulder. He took me home and handed me to my father.

.........................

Now it's been 8 years. The same story haunts me everyday. I was raped, several times then, by how many people, I don't know. My father lodged a case. I was interrogated several times, being asked with absurd, humiliating questions openly in court, in the presence of those smiling sinners. My own scream had made me deaf long ago. Papa has been fighting for justice for last 8 years. He has been fighting for a lost soul, a dead breathing body.  

Today, I am leaving my Papa alone.


Today, I would be dead, for the one last time.


       

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Thaila

I looked at a sky-touching building on the other side of the road. A small part of horizon was hiding behind its floors. 

'Ma, I want to see that Maaal (Mall). What it looks like, I want to see. Shops, people, and my friend told me that there are restras too, I want to see all', I said to Ma while staring at that gigantic building.

'Look at that automatic 'seedhi' . I watch it every day through these glass panes. I want to go, Ma, take me there' I continued. My mother didn't turn to see what i was explaining her, instead she kept pushing me towards the other direction. Direction to 'Pali Bazaar'.

'Big people go there. Your 'sahib' , his 'baccha' 'bibi', all of them come here for shopping. It is not a 'Bazaar' for poor people.' mom replied.

Ma started mending my broken heart's wall, 'Champak seth's shop is much better than these malls. He gave you free chocolate last time. didn't he? He may give you another today'.

'I will not move. I don't want to go to that shop. We have 'Thaila', we can buy few things from Maaaal and can climb floors through automatic 'seedhi'', I kept insisting.

Ma agreed at last, and we started dragging our feet towards the Glass-monster, probably with much lesser pace than we were leaving it behind. Cars were crawling so as to make their way to parking slot and among those cars we made our way to front arena of that mall.

Scorching sun was above our head. Most of the people had their sunglasses with them to reflect the blazing sun away. People were rushing inside with almost nothing in hand but we had 'thaila' and it was a prove that it is we who actually came here to shop, not these big people. 

Ruthless 'world' again proved that I and ma can never be a bit ahead of it as within few seconds I saw a family, like our bade sahib's one, came out with dozens of 'Thailas' in their hand, the colorful ones, and those were even more exciting than my school bags. I lost my interest in our 'thaila' as it had ugly looks with an irregular color patterns and an imprinting

 "502 Pataka Chai"

 accompanied with an another imprint 

"Tan Badan mein taazgi jagaye.". 

Although i wasn't sure of what was written on those mall bags but one thing was clear, one need not to carry a bag for shopping here. 

There was a security guards standing on entry gate counting every bird crossing his head. He returned to his job as soon as we tried to sneak into stomach of that Glass-monster, ignoring him. 

'What do you want?' he asked to my mom.

People were still entering through the door behind us without any interruption. But there was a question for us. 

'Want to buy chaaclate for him' my mom replied in a murmur.

'We sell chocolate. For chaaclates go to your 'Pali Bazaar'. There is nothing for you two here.Go! Go!' he teased which was followed by a laugh by his fellow standing on exit gate saluting passing-by people on his own will.

I grabbed hand of my mom. I wanted to leave that cruel place, a place where my mom was humiliated, a place where eyes following us wondering what the people like us doing here.


I didn't look back while heading back towards Champak 'seth's' shop. I wasn't expecting chocolate from there. I just wanted to fill my mom's 'thaila' 

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Hey Listen, little brother! Soak No More....

I am in my morning assembly and our principle is roaring over us through mike "It's is our 66th Independence day children. 66 years ago, we got what, our freedom fighter dreamed of, INDEPENDENCE". I don't know what that mean. The real thing is, I lost mine on this same day. Today is the first b'day of my little pot of trouble, my brother, younger brother people say. You would think that I am little harsh for a 1 year old child but let me tell you the other side of the story. I bet, after listening to my story, you will donate in child relief fund for me.


That day I was happy and exited as I was going to have a member in the family who is smaller, both in age and size, than me. A member on whom i can rule and paste my orders, just like my parents and older brother used to, on me. He was the only source of saving my 'Leftover grace'. (Leftover Grace - I have lost most of my prestige as there is not even a single neighbor in front of whom i have never cried and there is hardly anyone left in my colony in front of whom my mother has never scolded me.) Now, I was going to be master of one member of my family. My YOUNGER BROTHER, who saw the lights of the day on 15th August. With his arrival our parents got blessed with we 3 brothers in the family, him (Just born), Me (5 year old), Elder brother (17 year old).

We took my momma and my little brother home the next day. Guest, relatives, neighbor etc. etc. kept on visiting our house (not home anymore) till next few days. I was the sole in charge of water and snack serving department. I had to serve both to each of them but nobody seemed interested appreciating me over my noble work. Instead, they were busy grasping a glimpse of my tiny brother who was lying well in his comfort zone, wrapped well by white baby towel, enjoying cushion. They were touching his cheeks, making weird expression and talking to him in the language of some other world. I seriously felt neglected for the very first time in my life and thus i lost my 'leftover grace' within few days of his arrival.

He has the record of peeing over me exactly 8 times without his Diaper, and it comes just after my mom on whom he has an unbreakable feat of peeing more than 100 times i think. There must be a conspiracy against me from both of my brothers as i have never seen him peeing over my eldest brother. 

During my winter breaks, i merely turned into a baby sitter. I had to make sure that he doesn't jump from bed to floor, i had to amuse him all day and whenever he cried i was accused for it. His taste of T.V. program has been peculiar since the day of his birth. He hate 'Tom and Jerry', he cries whenever Jerry bangs Tom's head against anything but he laughs while watching gun fights with dazzling bullets mindlessly piercing head of many which my elder brother likes too. Another prove of that conspiracy theory which my other two brothers have against me. It's been almost a year since i last watched a full episode of 'Tom and Jerry' or 'Dexter's Laboratory'.  I wonder if some day my mother give me order to change his Diapers too. 

This is not all, i somehow lost the love interest of my father as now he don't ask me about my school and studies. Instead, he first prefer to hug this brand new creature of my family and talk to him in some bizarre language and that 'little monster' could only respond him with his 'BLAB BLAB BLAA' and some other clueless words. 

Today we will celebrate 1st birthday of this nuisance creator. I am praying to god, to make him as mature as I was in my second year of birth. 

Hey listen little brother, stop soaking the part of love i deserve. So, soak no more!! :(    

My principal is still yelling over mike. His speech is only meant for the senior secondary student as i and my friends are still looking clueless about what he actually wants to convey. Its a kind request from my side to school authorities also. Don't put us in the things we can't soak. SOAK NO MORE! :)

[ This post is written for Indiblogger's Surf Excel Matic # SoakNoMore Contest ]
         



Wednesday, August 8, 2012

College Story : Love in college


After an unfortunate long break i finally return to my college story. I got two re-backs in my third semester back exams. Never mind, it has nothing to do with this segment of college story, take it as an information and please pray to god that someday, some company would hire me.




Coming on the topic, Love in college. Ah! old, boring and yes you can add another word, CREEPY. Believe me, I hate this word love, and true love????? Well i hate it a bit more. In India, the kind of status love is enjoying is phenomenal and the reason behind this can be melodramatic, over-romantic movies which are usually songs and tears ridden with heavily loaded dialogues which if somebody use in real life, he could have easily be the tease target. In these kind of movies, whenever a hero watches her love, a song plays and somehow they started dancing without any rehearsal but never mind, they will never miss a beat. One song and few dancing steps can last from 'Chandni chowk to China' or from 'Bombay to Bankok' or from 'Egypt to Switzerland'. There is atleast one sacrifice in the movie about which the opposite partner comes to know in climax. One fight is all you need to strengthen your love bond. Don't have enemies???? Hire them! Sensual scenes used to be too slow that it  would make you think that "may be the hero is not feeling manly enough". These kind of movies has been pumping the 'love soul' among the common fukin youngsters for last 100 years. (Cheers to 100 years of Indian cinema)   

I am saying a lot against love, but let me confess, i wasn't immune to this thing, specially during first few month of our college. It sounds little craky, but most of the boys seriously set their aim with hawk eye during their entrance in college years like " 1st Sem khatm hote hote ek na ek ko to ptayenge". One of my friend named 'Shaleen' (CS Branch) even gave me a new kind of gyan "Bhai ladki ko ptane ka sbse sahi waqt hota hai 1st semester. Iske baad to bhai saari book ho jati hain. Fir to you only left on the mercy of their break-ups." (Ask shaleen if i am wrong..:D) Keeping aside those tips and theories, i was busy grasping the bunch of morons with whom i have to unfortunately spend my next four years. But at the same time, i couldn't say that there was any kind of deficiency of 'Ladki rupi mohmaayaa' in our IT class. Although according to few surveys conducted by students of 1st sem it was found that, in terms of hottest girls our class stood somewhere after 'EIC' and 'CS' Branch. 'CS' topped the list and EIC with their few ace cards stood second.

There is hardly any hot or average girl left in my class, i was never attracted to. "Oh! that girl should be my girlfriend, oh! she's hot. OMG! she's so beautiful." these kind of thoughts like an unruly hound kept crossing my mind.

The first time i think when things gone fishy was our Engineering Drawing class (sorry for using the word 'fishy'. People say that girls has the monopoly over this word.). I was troubling over sheet of paper and was unable to draw alphabets in it's right dimension. A girl of my class then came to my rescue. We were not friends then but still don't know why she took the pain of drawing those for me. "Ye pyar nhi to aur kya hai." BULLSH*T..This never came into my mind but for a brand new college student, a girl who is not even his friend, is never less than an angel who came to draw sheet for him without being asked for help.

Few days went only with a formal hi, hello etc. I desperately wanted her phone number, simply to give things a push. (Don't take it the other way.) With all hook and crook, I finally got her number. Needless to say, we started chatting which never used to last for more than 1 or 2 hour. I remained formal and she too. My introvert kind of attitude never allowed me to talk to her in college but still there were rumors that we are the so called couples. Hence, this period earned me few as*holes who kept interrogating over my commitment with her which was never there. 

Days passed and her craze too (Although there was nothing like craze but 'kuch kuch hota hai wali feeling' was no doubt, wandering over me earlier.) I stopped responding to her messages and started avoiding her all of sudden. I don't know if she had started liking me or not but there was just a flux of attraction in me for her that had invaded my mind earlier. With slipping sand of time, whatever was there, got diminished. These non happening things weren't the end of my love drama. Go ahead!!

I had witnessed a lot of morons of my class getting committed according to their own status, few with girls of my own class, while few tried somewhere else and BINGO!! My own fast friend was flipping the girls like game of card, but what all i got was attention of those i never wanted to get attention from. Life is pretty bore without any hiccup. So here's the saga of one more HICCUP. 

I was with my few extra notorious bunch of friends in 'Lifestyle'. One girl there was looking at me without a blink in her eye (Probably the case of weak eyesight). They insisted me to go and talk to her but i refused, due to that same introvert attitude. This made them a free bird to tighten comments on my attitude or shyness whatever you say. One of my closest friend gave me her support which in disguise was the bottle of venom for me. She announced "Ashish will make a girlfriend possibly till the end of this month. It's a bet". I was in unusual trouble, whether to support her or make an easy way for me. Bet finally turned to me without my actual participation but losing that bet could have dumped me to rags. It seems strange but what i decided is to propose some girl. What i thought was "If she would accept, all "BALLE BALLE" and if she doesn't, I have to fool my friends somehow". (I too wanted to go for my first propose and i never considered the fact what could happen after that.)




One of my cousin came and and created a havoc. He sent a message to a girl 'Sonali' (name changed) with whom i was formerly chatting with. "Can we take our friendship to the next level??" This is what he wrote in that message. That message costs 10 paise and one whole year of embarrassing life in college. My cousins are pot of troubles. Whenever they come, they leave me clueless. This time wasn't an exception, I was screwed and the thing i was fearing from happened the following day. She came to me and asked the meaning of that message which was never sent by me. (Although the meaning was quite clear from that same message but still, SHE WAS A GIRL and that's why i like this song 'Wo dekhne mein kaisi seedhi sadi lagti, wo bolti ki wo to kuch nhi samajhti, andar se kitni tez hai'. :D) I had no answer to that question and what i thought was "now she is going to feel like i had proposed her, so why not to take a try by actually proposing her" and with this weird thought i called her to library and said what i shouldn't. She clearly said 'NO' as expected and i left with no other option. I lost the bet but fortunately god saved me from that psycho girl. 

She seriously had beaten the 'DHOL'  in college and girls hostel that 'Ashish' had proposed me. This is what happen when you "Do more and think less". It was really embarrassing for me as I was accused for proposing an awkward, offbeat and HMT (Hindi Medium Types) girl. (Sorry, but this what she is..:-P)

Some stories have no end and those stories include mine too. More girls came and left, none made any sense, probably because i didn't made sense to them. In one more incident when i was boozing with my friend 'Ashwarya' and another pot of trouble 'Mayank' (Cousin), he (mayank) sent a lot of messages to a girl of my class and kept on proposing her till morning. What she replied to those messages, i never know but later, i got messages from her that she cried all night long and she was not expecting this from the friend like me blah! blah!. Let me tell you one thing reader, tears of Girl do not made them over-emotional, they just use these tears as their strongest weapon to weaken the opposite sex. Boys only use them only in their childhood and then forget it.(They don't have good memory like girls). So where i was, yes on that girl who cried whole night. Although what is there to cry when a girl's good friend is proposing her. SKIP IT! We can't understand. Now don't ask me what happened further as i don't want to replicate those horrible memories in words. 

That's all guys. I know this post went even miserable than my love life but i can assure you that when i clear my those two re-backs i would write a better one. Believe me if it makes sense. 

Hasta Pronto!!!!!!




Thursday, July 26, 2012

A Weird Story



She kept on crawling over wall, and slipping on ground repeatedly. A small boy was staring at her for last few seconds. She was happy as she was blessing him with the same moral, her ancestors blessed the mighty king with. Keep trying, keep trying....never lose hope. She started crawling all over again, on that same wall and fell all over again. 


That boy finally took that little ant, drop her down and squeezed her bottom against the floor. He was just verifying what her school teacher told him that "HCHO i.e. Formic Acid, occurs naturally, and most notably in Ant's sting."  


Fluid stuck her to the floor and every attempt to move, went unnoticeable. Boy ran after examining that fluid, probably to wash his hand, but it doesn't seem that he'll return. 


Poor ant, was now resting her head on the ground,wasting her HCHO biting a piece of paper lying nearby and regretting over decision to pass her ancestors's morals to a 21st century mind. 

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

How AC coach is different from Sleeper - A whole new View



Remember, these kind of questions in your school and colleges exam. Difference between Garam Dal and Naram Dal (Social science). Difference between Acid, Bases and salts (9th Standard Science), Difference between line and line segment (Maths). Difference between Noun, Pronoun, Adjectives (Do I need to mention this subject? Anyways, English).

Boring Stuff.......Right? 

But let me tell you, Differences aren't always boring specially when it has nothing to do with textbooks. 

Now this post is all about how an A.C. coaches of typical Indian trains are different from sleeper ones. 

The one who truly inspired me to write this post is 'Dayodaya Express' and the noble cause for which we booked a seat for us was my only sister's wedding. Me, Papa, Di and Mummy were in A.C. coach while my three friends were in Sleeper, walking hand in hand with 6 million other people who travels in this class of coach everyday. Friend's affection and family's aggression left me oscillating between these two way apart chambers and gave me a chance to explore these two worlds.

(My last four posts were too small so i am trying to lengthen the things unnecessarily. Spamming will not be tolerated in comments. :-D)

Ans. 

*(Now don't tell me that you forgot the question, See the Heading).

1). Name:

So, the first difference or we can say huge difference between these two worlds are their names. Lend me your ears for 2 extra minutes before hurling Chappals at me. 

A.C. coaches - quite clear with name, well equipped with cooling machines, well enough to maintain a temperature around 20 degree Celsius. However, temperature totally depends upon the class of A.C. coach. Higher the class, lower the temperature. (Hey mathematicians! find out an answer for me. Why we call 1st A.c. higher class and 2nd, 3rd A.c. lower class. I thought 2,3 > 1. Never mind, absurd question, i said na, i am unnecessarily lengthening this post.) 

Sleeper -  Tricky, they don't call it Non-A.C. It's the other thing that A.C. coaches would give you a better sleepy night then shaky sleeper coaches but who cares, Sleepers are still pushing 4 million people into their dreams everyday.

2). Fans : 

Fans are unfortunately severely neglected in A.C. coaches. They work all day and night long, sprinkling borrowed air from air conditioner to every possible corner but it's Sleeper which has gives them their due. Here, they are the solo hero and only way to spawn forced air over sweating faces. If any of them would stop people will perform every ritual to bring it to life again. Not only this, if you are sleeping on upper birth then you could use that same fan top to keep your shoes, chappals or sandals along with smelly socks.(However, these fans would circulate this foul smell of socks too without discrimination but no complaints, people would think that smell must be coming from outside. :D)

3). Windows :

Has no purpose in Sleeper, sometimes just use to immunize people from hot 'looh'. In A.c. coaches, they seal what, people pay extra for.

4). Toilets :

They need a serious mention here. People in Sleeper coaches are really bad in target or it would be harsh to blame them. Shaky bogies might not let them concentrate to that small target and leave these toilets SMELLbound. 

A.c. has clean toilets with disinfectant liquids while sleeper coaches are deprived from both. (It implies people in A.c. are more prone to diseases than those in sleeper) :D

Now a days you would also find a board on doors of toilets requesting not to use them while train is in stand-by mode over railway station. See the irony! Indian mothers travelling in sleeper send her child to toilets only when Train is standing so that she doesn't has to wash his cloths covered in DIRTY SPRINKLES. :D 
Remember that bad target thing. Ha ha!!

5). Few other non sense Differences :

Sleeper coaches are beggar ridden. If you are travelling in this bogie then make sure that upper pocket of your wallet have few chillars otherwise you could be tease target of these beggars.

A.c. has no accommodation for these ticket-less, self employed passengers.

Mass in Sleeper aren't supposed to be as technological advanced as people in A.c. that's why latter has a laptop or mobile charging socket for every seat while former has just two sockets in one bogie near the gates.

The bars of ladder in A.c. are perfectly spaced and thus can easily push anyone to upper birth without much struggle. According to Railways, people in sleeper are either more athletic or has extra long legs as their ladder's bars are widely separated and one has to almost hop from one bar to other in order to ride the top.

Privacy??????? What the hell is this? Ha ha! welcome to curtain-less sleeper coaches. Presence of any kind of interrupt like curtain could curb the chances of sleeper people to discuss and criticize the government over burning issues.


Well, keeping aside these differences and all, trains are still the lifeline of Indian transport system as a whopping 18 million people travel by train everyday. 

Keep this Indian pulse alive, keep it clean. :)         

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

That Girl in Pink Walled City - 55 word fiction





Hundreds of eye balls were wandering over her slightly dished out cleavage, while a 'white skinned' blonde who was in her 30's roving in pink walled city. 


Finally, she opened her bag, took a masculine cloth and draped it around her shoulders. Merciless, gigantic sun was still wetting her body, but never mind, at least that piece of cloth could quench thirst of those hundred staring eyes.   



[*This story is result of my own experience while I was with my mom, shopping in Johri Market (Jaipur).]

Friday, June 15, 2012

Lesson


Doors opened from behind, mingling the trapped lights with highly illuminated ones. A shattered voice came from a staggering old man.

"Beta, Do you know, where my glasses are?" asked old man.

"How do I know? And don't you see, I am busy in teaching 'Rahul'. Go back to your room, Shashi will give you when she find it" Ramesh urged.

"Yes, Where were we? Han "Explain in two sentences that, why your father is biggest asset for you in your life". Write the answer." continued Ramesh and dictated the answer to Rahul. 

Rahul blindly echoed his father's words on his Homework copy.

Door got closed, knocking the lights off again. 

Lesson was almost over, so as an old man's plea.  


Tuesday, June 12, 2012

A Black Window (55 word fiction)



A barefooted kid came running towards a black window of a V.I.P. car. With a scorching sun overhead and hands barely reaching the glasses of window, he thumped.


Those black curtains were still sealing the cool air inside. 


Wheels turned after a while, leaving behind an empty stomach of hardly '8 year' old. 'Health minister' was getting late for his speech on 'Children Welfare'.     





Monday, June 11, 2012

This Is Wrong Honey!!



We both were sitting alone in front of a 'crowd ridden' space of a mall until he came in a flash, flattened his palm in front of me and with his 'hard to figure out' expressions said nothing. His malnourished body was telling what he was in need of, few pennies that couldn't vaporize his hunger but at least can leave enough in him to beg for few more and this time to feed his parents as well. 


"Go away." I said in a 'not pleasant to hear' tone.


It wasn't new for him. He might had been left his pride and honor the day he saw the lights of this world.


He remained motionless, his little hands were intact but it did negligible effect over me. 


"What do you want? Go yar please!" I warned after getting irritated by his breathless way of looking at us. Finally, he moved without uttering a word. 


"Hey Listen" she summoned him and took a 50 rupee note from her purse and gave him. That little boy grinned like a merchant who just found gold in his bathtub.


"Now this is wrong. You are not supposed to give him that, it's like supporting child labor." I yelled.


"Oh! Philosophy?" she laughed.


"Ah! not philosophy. I was telling you that it is wrong honey."


"WRONG???? Ramming red lights is right. Hmm? Passing comments over girls which your friends do proudly, is cool. Right? You know, we complains too much. This is wrong, this shouldn't be done blah blah....Common, we simply do what we want, no matter what we are supposed to. These are Indian traits with which a child here born with"


"I had heard people accusing government over filthy Indian roads , blaming mindless people, while having their gutkha from sachet, throwing wrapper anywhere they want and then taking a blind spit shot at spittoon which never embeds in the target." she went on and on and I was listening like a 3 year old child. I fell short of words.


She continued and this time her voice was much softer, "Look at that kid. His family must have been begging for years, his future generation would beg as well. He will spend his whole life wiping glass windows, and flattening his palm to beg from so called intellectuals like you. Believe me, the day you turn the fate of those poor kids, i would stop showering my gratitude to them till then don't expect me to change."


(I don't know whether she was right or wrong.)


That boy was now getting the attention of his fellows who were busy hovering over that 50 rs. note. This pumped his chest and he was looking at us smiling. Who knows if it was his way to thank.



Monday, May 28, 2012

O Uncle!!!! One Game of Roadrash, Please!!!!!

 Uncles of India are the most astonishing creatures for a child. Uncles, lots of them, 'Bagal Wale Uncle', 'Upar wale Uncle', 'Peeche Wale Uncle' etc.etc. Not only known by geographical location but also their professions gives distant names to them like, 'Pani wale Uncle', 'Bijli wale Uncle', 'Dukaan wale Uncle'. Here's some more, 'Tofee wale uncle', 'Khadush Uncle' and more and more. 




My father has a transferable job so I was exposed to all these vivid variety of Uncles, every one was unique in his own way. When we were shifted to a place, Narnaul [ A little known town in Haryana ], I encountered my first typical uncle. Bald, AH! not being so rude, almost bald, 6 feet tall, bones scratching muscles to come out, equipped with two most notorious kids of the world and a 'Good for nothing' Pomeranian. He was my 'Makaanmalik Uncle'.


On the day of our arrival in his house, he took me to a 'Mithai Wala' and fed me with the world's most delicious dessert 'Ras malai'. I was a foodie since the day my tongue started recognizing the tastes so, that 'Ras Malai' was enough to invert my introvert attitude for my 'Makaanmalik Uncle'. In the colony of screaming small monsters, i was the most silent kid. My mother never allowed me to play with those kids simply because according to her, games of those 'roaring mini giants' were life galloping so 'Makaanmalik Uncle' was the only one i befriended. He was the one I played with, and watched India Vs. Pakistan cricket matches. (I must had watched other matches too but i didn't remember.)   


Transferable job of my father lived up to its promise and this time it landed us in 'Delhi'. Big city with excessive pollution, sky high buildings and an unending construction work which keeps this city always under suffocating dirt blanket, became our new home. 'Screaming Monsters' were now got replaced with the bunch of highly sophisticated city kids (I am calling them 'sophisticated' because they might not even heard of few 'desi' games like 'Gulli Dandaa', 'Kho kho' and all, where almost every game used to end up with a brawl. For these poor, video game ridden, city kids, ramming dirt on road beneath their bicycles tires is most adventurous). My father pushed me in one of the finest schools of Delhi to which most of our colony kids belonged to. This didn't help me get any fast friend either. 


This time another uncle who was friend of my father became my 'Saamne Wale Uncle'. (His house was just in front of us.) 


Talking about city's education, it was alright. A brilliant student of English had turned into a mediocre one. I suffered most in computers. Notepad, Paint, Word pad, these all were no less than torture for me at school but not for those butter driven kids. Firmly holding a mouse and then frequently clicking on icons to launch what they actually asked to was not challenging for those techno freaks. In my town school, I was only taught to somehow open the computer and launch C-DOS to see date, time, calender etc etc. with all the mouse work was headache of teacher. Taming computer's mouse was seeming tougher than living mouse and then 'Bagal wale Uncle' came to my rescue.


One day when I was going home with my bicycle i stood in front of a computer center noticing bike of my 'Samne wale Uncle' parked in front of it. I had heard from my father that uncle owns a computer center near my school and i took no time in guessing that it is his. I parked my bicycle too and peeped into the building. I entered into a small compound through a black door. There were almost 7 to 8 computers, much less than computers in our giant school lab. A theory class was going on a separate room. I found my uncle sitting on a chair as feathery as our school principal has had. He called as soon as his eyes got me.


"So kid, wanna play games on computer?" he asked after my few minutes stay there.


So this torture thing (computer) has something good too, I thought and nodded in reply. (Remember, i was an introvert. So a confident yes didn't sound good to me.)


He switched on a computer and clicked on an icon. No notepad, fortunately it wasn't paint too. It was 'Roadrash', the most addicted bike racing game of that time. With a proper knowledge of controls that he gave me (except those one for kicking fellow bikers) i almost learned the basics. This was enough to ignite the fuel of addiction inside me for that very same game. I inquired in my colony about 'Roadrash' and almost every one already had this game installed on their PC's. Few had completed it too. I sneaked into the house of one of my almost friend 'Mridul' to play 'Roadrash'. He didn't allowed me to touch his new P.C. and himself demonstrated the way to play. 


"See, I stood first" he announced. 


"It's not you. He's Head Popper who came first" i replied


"It's my name, 'Gadhe'"


"Your name is Mridul"


"Head popper is the name i had given to me as player's name, so in the game i am Head popper" He finally elaborated.


I nodded and left.


Next day while coming from school i again noticed my 'Saamne Wale Uncle's' bike. Curiosity clicked. Again i parked my bicycle and ran to that small compound. This time almost all PC's were booked, just as in our school lab where students not even let a single P.C. respire. My uncle finally made my way to a neglected computer.


First thing i did was changing my playing name aka player's name to 'Street Rocker'. (I had been thinking over the name since Mridul told me how to do so). After almost an hour , I completed my first race. It had been late for home so i paddled my bicycle with all my effort but wasn't enough to fill the void of late.


'Where were you?' my mother asked.


Wasn't intended to tell a lie, I told her the reason. To my surprise she behaved normally, the reason might be my mingling with computer which i hatred of. 


Now with passing days i became regular to my uncle's computer center and i almost perfected till level 3 of 'Roadrash'. 'Street Rocker' was ramming his fellow bikers with side kicks (Yes, I learned it too) and achieving the highest feat. Only thing which kept degrading was my uncle's response. Now, he had stopped coming to my seat asking me how's all going. He had stopped patting on my back too which he used to every time when i got a rank. Might be I was uselessly using a computer which should be given to a paying student coming for his computer course there. The feel of negligence forced me to stop going to his center.


I told all this to my mom. She felt bad for a kid which now wouldn't tell her the stories of 'Street Rocker's' success. She promised me to give a new computer as soon as possible. (It isn't easy for a middle class parents to give his child a gift worth half a lakh). For me, it was never easy to pass from the front of that "Roadrash" spot, neglecting it everyday while coming from school, where I was having my finest hour of day. 'Street Rocker' was no longer ramming the fellow bikers. 




KHADUSH UNCLE.............:(

Saturday, May 19, 2012

JOB

"Again your project is not ready.HAHAHAHA.....OMG! you fool. You are going to lose your job. Poor looser" said my colleague making fun of me.

'Is your project ready?' somehow I asked.

"Ready? Are you joking? It's not just ready but you can call it Super-ready. I had waited for this moment since the day I got this job.I have been working on it for last 1 year. I am going to get a promotion and you will be kicked off. It's recession dude.Survival of the best. Don't worry, I will give you my promotion party in 'Oberoi'. Free meal for a Jobless matters."

His words elevated my temperature with lift. "8th floor" announced lift and doors got opened.

What i saw was bunch of people, some pretending to be sad and some were actually. What's the matter, I whispered in the ears of office boy.

"Apna Saab marr gya" he almost made an official announcement of our Boss's death.

"What the hell? How can he die? Now who will approve my project on which I have been foolishly working on for last 1 year?" my colleague shouted or you can say asked after a pause.

"You are fired. MORON!" another water dipped voice came from former director and probably the new chairman of our firm. She was beautiful young wife of my ugly above 50s Boss.

He left slamming his bag against the floor and I tended to burst into laughter.

"You lost your job, hard to believe but nobody stands in front of god's will and yes, I am a loser. Having an affair with our Boss's wife is what I had achieved in last last 3 years of my job and see, how things turned for me. Don't worry, I will give you my promotion party in 'Oberoi'.Free meal for a Jobless matters :D" I texted my colleague.

   

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Akbar, Birbal And Facebook (Bad combination,Great Confusion) Part - 1



"Hey Birbal, What you are doing with my Tablet for last half an hour?" asked Akbar. 


Birbal replied "Jahanpanah, I am creating your Facebook account".


Now what the hell is this Facebook? akbar asked


Birbal said, Jahanpanah, it is a kingdom networking site. Here you could keep a track on your "NaamaKool notorious Salim", I had already sent him the friend request. Not only this...............after a pause birbal whispered in Akbar's ears, "You can watch sunny Leone's hot videos too which Bairam Khan used to share shamelessly on Facebook. And one more thing, I liked the page of 'Khabar Din Bhar' on your behalf. Now there is no need of these useless khabaris who charges 50 gold coins just for telling you that "Whose dog peed on your Bed?"


"That's awesome but who told you about the Leone's stuff" akbar asked shyly. :D






"You never deletes your history.Give thank to god 'Din-e-Illahi' that your Tab didn't got the hands of Jodha otherwise you could be kicked out from your own kingdom" Birbal replied and Akbar started looking around him in order to ensure that nobody else heard it.


Time for a good Profile picture, so that people, who may know you, could recognize you, continued Birbal.


Akbar's voice went hoarse this time, Everyone knows me,I don't need a profile picture.


Birbal replied softly "Jahnpanah, few years ago you had stopped me from uploading your photo on shadi.com which kept you bachelor for years" (Although it's other thing that response was even more pathetic when photos were uploaded, birbal murmurs in his mind).


"Call shahi photographer" ordered Akbar. 


Cameraman came,photos got clicked,many of them,one after the other. Akbar tried every position,every style that his Zameer allowing him but photos that came didn't seemed to deserve even a single 'like' or 'comment'. 


Birbal thought "It is a big problem and if Akbar came to know that photos of  'Salim','Jodha' and his other rivals yielding over 100 likes and his photo had none, he may kill this poor photographer".


Finally a photo came out of shutterbug that had less bugs than others. Birbal uploaded the photograph after getting nod from Akbar. 


So jahanpanah, your profile is ready. Your login id is "akbar34@mughal.com" and password......birbal whispered "Ashutosh Gowarikar mast hai". Akbar noted both on a piece of paper and kept with him. 


A beep came after a shortwhile, the tablet was still in hands of Birbal. It was the first notification on Akbar's FB account.


"Maharana Pratap Singh (The Mughal Hater) commented on a photo of you.


Anxious birbal opened the photo. The comment reads :-


" LOLZ.............hahahahahahaha............Funny Face.............:D "


Birbal deleted the comment as soon as he read and liked the very same photo with a comment, "Nice Jhanpanah, You looking good".


Soon a second comment came from Maharana Pratap, 


"Hahahahahha...........Birbal,I must say......get your eyes cheaked.". 


Birbal deleted it too and feared that what would happen if Akbar read those type of  comments.


Akbar got irritated as his Tab was still lying in hands of Birbal and ordered, "Birbal, you had done what you had to do so now return my Tab".


Birbal nodded and returned it.


A broad smile came on the face of Akbar after looking at his profile. Birbal couldn't being able to figure out the exact reason behind the Akbar's smile and thought,it might be for the sense of advancement which Akbar is having after entering into the family of 'Zukerburg'.


Finally Birbal gave him the Sutra of sefety on Fb,"Like as many photos as you can,only then people would like yours.Don't click 'like','share' or 'comment' on any Leone's video no matter how much you'd liked them. Send friend request only to those you know, and don't call unwanted problems by flirting with queens of other Kingdom on chat and commenting irresponsibly on their photos like 'Mast lag rhi hai', 'Ati sundar mann mohini' etc. etc. Don't accept friend request of 'Jodha', it can curb your rights of enjoying independently even on FB".


Birbal left the 'Darbaar' leaving behind Akbar and his new account.






More on Tales of Akbar,Birbal and facebook in my next post.......Till then bbyee......:) 

Saturday, May 12, 2012

My first award....:) HAPPY...

I would like to thank Alka Narula for giving me my first blogger award.:) I love her posts and you can read them on http://alkanarula.blogspot.in




  1.     Thank the person who nominated you.
  2.     Post a picture of the award on your blog.
  3.     Share 7 random thoughts about yourself.
  4.     Choose bloggers to pass the award to.
  5.     Inform them about it.


7 random thoughts about me:


1) I am a big foodie.My range of likings in category of food is immeasurable.
2) I became blogoholic.
3) I hate lizards.I can't even dare to pass through a wall on which she is.
4) I want to go Venice once in my life.
5) I hate serials.
6) I love spending my time on my laptop. I can continuously sit on my lappy for hours.
7) I love awards.:)  


Now name of the bloggers i am passing this awards:


Somya Singh
Debajyoti Ghosh
The narcissist
nabanita
ruchita
Neha
Sangeetha