Sunday, December 30, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Breathe was adding rhythm to the music that was played in the background.
The darkness yielded around her but the aura overpowered the negativity.
The age old shrills explain that masterpiece is created in solitude and sorrow. The entity is embalmed in years of sweat and perseverance but attains near perfection only when soul seeks in distress.
Nobody has been able to define perfection. It is in the perception of human mind which switches between the mediocre and hastiness.
She tried to overwhelm herself in this insanity. The stench of power and pride that was instilled over the generations of her family made her legs and hands work in the way she commanded.
She never knew if the heart made conversations with her but always squeezed out the thoughts that entered her head. She thought with her heart and felt with the brain. It was animosity within her for not achieving but she didn’t know what the achievement was in the first place.
Her masters and elders told her that the ultimatum was the masterpiece. People have lost in labyrinth of fate to conquer this pseudo award. To be lost in character and fame. To be aroused with mixed entities of materialistic and magic moments. To not understand the path but love the way it turns. To quench the thirst that was built of passion and predominance.
The dead end of all conquests was the lustful and imaginary award; the masterpiece.
The sounds of appreciation brimmed the hall. Her body didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t see but the music of applaud filled her.
The seeker was the fool for she sought for the illusion of recognition.
Muscles flexed and she moved to welcome the masterpiece.
The man’s biggest prize didn’t lie in the mazes and dungeons, Not in the perseverance and passion. Never in the emotion and feelings.
It was buried deep in the place where no other man could touch.
She knew it right then.
It was within her, the masterpiece.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
From the rhythm of her snore to bathroom tantrums.
Time she eats, sleeps and even farts.
How she adds ‘a’ after every four words and twists her tongue.
What she wears and sprays.
You just know her too well.
You are in one of the 2 places; either in a prison or a Paying guest room.
Bangalore, just like in its name, has a galore of robots. This hold true at least in the corner of the city I live. People succumb to monotony; they eat, sleep and go to office.
In this 3 staged life cycle diagram, the only human habitation sensation comes when you are inside the four walls with four other members of the PG.
I always wanted to know how it was to be in an army training. How they are trained to discipline timings no complains about food, ounces of adjustments and understanding of human behavior with just a nod of the head. I realized it was quite attainable here.
You have strict timings of bathroom usage and it begins as early as six in the morning.
You have given up complaining about food. Now, you don’t know the difference between Lady’s finger and Brinjal.
You understand when your roommate goes to balcony to talk or sighs at the room.
Recently, four of us were watching Mr. Pranab Mukherjee being crowned as the president. That is when I realized how economics flew into our systems too.
We go out to eat on weekends except the last due to the deficit of monetary funds.
Clothes are ironed once every fortnight.
Snacks are eaten at close by economic stalls; lunches are eaten heavy in the late afternoon only to go hungry in the night.
Costly items are purchased on share basis and cheap items for everyone.
Necessities like doormats to Baygon spray are bought in cyclic basis. For example, I buy Harpic this month and another roommate, the next month.
Treats are special. In both, the literal and economic sense. We need to save.
There is no place on earth that teaches unity in diversity like in the PG. It is the only phase in your life where everyone has everything still, each one is different.
From the trivial habits to prayers that offered, every individual is respected. You might have a Muslim, Hindu and Christian. This is because you may not have a chance to object. For, the other has come with the same expectation and anxiety. You scoff and emulate at the same time. You hate the person still wouldn’t mind staying put.
Nobody cares if it is Ramzan or Diwali as long as it is a holiday. You don’t bother about the colour of the wall matching with the bed sheets as long as the power is available.
Everything will be shared.
From sockets for the mobile and laptop charging to the medicines in an emergency.
From the bucket to the waste cloth.
From bathroom slippers to the single wardrobe mirror.
From chips to pickles.
From happiness to anxiety.
From TV viewing to data card passwords.
Life has much to offer in that pigeon holes rooms.
Hostel life teaches you independence and responsibility.
But PG, moulds you.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Ruchi searched for the bottle. It was not in its place.
She didnt believe Rohit. The truth was she didnt want to believe him.
The bed appeared and disappeared in front of her eyes. She felt dazed again.
'I have this disease. I was born with it. I will die with it. I will never know what is truth and lie.'
What if Rohit was truthful and Mrilani was right?
Did she deserve to be her friend? Were all the years together a fairy tale that she only has imagined?
She imagined a lot. A lot that she couldn't recognize between reality and lie.
Maybe Mrilani deserved better friend and better life. She couldn't interfere with Mrilani's life. There was nothing much that she could do except one, move away from her for life. And it had to be forever and permanent.
'Yes, I am tired of truth and lie. I shall end it once for all'
'Rohit was telling the truth. Mrilani didn't deserve such a sickening friend.She should go away as far as possible.
She pulled out a notepad and began to write.
It stared with "Dear Mrilani, For greater good......"
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
(20) The five minute sleep because the clock was running ahead
(19) A message from your childhood crush after ages
(18) When a baby smiles toothless at you
(17) The daily zodiac prediction says you will find your love
(16) The dish you ordered tastes exactly like you imagined
(15) You find cash in your pant pocket when going to wash it
(14) When the calendar displays the message you wanted
(13) Soaked in bathtub
(12) The bed sheet is very soft
(11) Being appreciated for something you are wearing
(10) All time favourite song on radio
(09) Finding your old college t shirt that brings back memories
(08) Your favourite movie on TV on a lazy Sunday
(07) You find your friend’s room even messier than yours
(06) When you meet one of your teachers and they recognise you
(05) You receive a letter with your name on it
(04) The bus arrives as soon as you reach the bus stop
(03) Someone you love looks at you
(02) When your article is published
(01) When you know that there are ‘12500’+ people who believe in marriages and come to ShaadiCafe.com
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
We, animals with the sixth sense, are abundant in expectations. There are no boundaries to that aspect of emotion and nobody has been able to lay out the basic rules of expectation. What is too much of it or what is too less of it? We will never get the answers.
Is growing old good or bad? Expectation also ages with us and we are never too sure if it is good or bad.
When 13 years old: We can’t look at this age as a mere number. It sends alert signals to the parents and prestigious shots to the person who has reached the number. The expectations begin from the external appearance. There is an adrenaline rush when the prettiest or the cutest looks at you. Like the chemical bonds of oxygen and hydrogen to make the perfect structure of water, we want to be tagged only with the good looking person. We attempt to look the best, dress the best or simply be called ‘the best’. Call it infatuation or crush, we labelled them as love.
When 16 years old: Career and crush converge at the common road (to think of it, I wrote a perfect alliteration here). We are forced to focus on one by every elder we encounter while thoughts deviate to another. Life promises too much at this juncture and optimism is raised. We are trying to win the best of both worlds. We think we are funny and tend to assume that popularity is by doing many things at a time. We learn to multitask and somehow manage to do excel in one or two things. With chaos in oneself, this age is definitely not too sweet.
When 19 years old: We are actually bidding good bye to the adolescence. With that, we are also bidding farewell to most crushes. At this age, we make choices. The surprising fact is that, choices seem less than what we began with. This age is critical when it comes to cupidism. We seem to make intelligent decisions. Romance seem to make more sense than what we thought. We seek for long term romance and understand that strength lies in the mutual trust. Relationships are made and broken and ‘expectation bars’ are raised and lowered. This age is a period of realisation that ‘love’ at 13 was dumb.
When 22 years old: Man has been able to solve all mysteries of deep waters but never the expectations that arise out of a human being. At this age, we want to look the best, have the best of career, take the best decisions, look for a long term relationship and expect more and more. Most of the problems start here. The best part of this particular age is that we believe in love whole heartedly. We are not too stupid or too intelligent to be in love. However, this age is the mother of all expectations.
We cannot stop our ever growing and always changing expectations as it is a part and parcel of human nature. But maturity does teach us to strike realistic views with the unrealistic expectations. Learn, adjust, understand and reason out. After all, compromising is not always a bad thing!
War is on. It is between the world’s conglomerates manufacturing the razors and the preferences of the XY chromosomes. The clash of titans as one of them approve a clean shaven look will get you women while other are hitting like buttons on Facebook photo of unshaven George Clooney.
English is a funny language. It might just make ‘Rajini Kant’ a part of vocabulary. Who in the right mind would link an almost cut wheat or paddy field to the small facial hairs that men sport? But the name stuck while everyone famous around the street glamourized the stubble. The boys when they reach the adolescence age and see the first sign of a single hair on their chin move around with razors. Conclusion can be drawn here that hair is a sign of masculinity.
In an examination of linking maturity to the androgens, we have just three choices.
(a) Clean shaven
Survey shows that clean shaven defines immaturity. Beard was considered to be too much of masculinity. Stubble, like the Goldilock’s taste of porridge, was just right. It indicated not too much of a mature person with little aggressive nature that women of today seek. It seems like they are in the borders between the two countries of India and Pakistan. One side was dangerous while other was too comfortable.
When I asked Kannmani as why she liked her guy with stubble, she simply mentioned that pricks were cute to touch and feel. Though I didn’t react much when she said this, I couldn’t help looking at an angle for fondling purposes.
Stubble is also a mechanism for chameleonic characteristics. It hides the immature baby face of many boys and gives them an older look. Thanks to it that many women don’t seem too old when compared to their men of the same age. Dhanush will sport one when he sings his ‘Why this Kolaveri di?’ and all girls in the hostel will shriek ‘how cute!’ That’s life, boys!
Not only this, stubble seems to be more effective than sunscreen. It magically makes the jaw line look stronger and masculine.
Trying to connect responsibility with the look; men spend more time to get that perfect small hairs on face than the clean shave. So, all you women! Next time you rub his cheek, you can be sure that it took him more time that your fragrance soap lather bath.
The mystery of these small pricks will linger as long as it is the preference of the opposite gender. Celebrities will sport it, Singers will show off, sportsmen will flaunt and our very own next door Subramani won’t be alone!
So, machan! Sport one da! The pretty Kannmani might be on shaadicafe!
Friday, March 23, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
My stomach has not been at its best. It churns and sends a signal to visit the bathroom. Not new to this but this is the first time that it is being unreasonable from its side.
Last time the stomach played with me was when I was cornered in an ac room by the bespectacled man who seemed to know more than what my entire set of neuron can hold. He asked, scribbled and pointed to crawling graphs and numbers that seemed to make sense only when I left the room. Like the door of elevator, stomach turned normal after I reached the door knob.
With a population of 2000 in my b-school and over 60% of them being boys, I just couldn’t get a boyfriend. I thought I was socially challenged and that was the worse feeling than your close friend holding hands with a guy who has been acclaimed as one of the best looking in the campus. Tragedy took turns; the best men were with worst girls and decent men delved in their own worlds with a bottle of alcohol not able to get away from their past. In all, I was left stranded wondering what is wrong with me.
If you can sense the connect between the above two paragraphs, in the world of career and matrimony, it is truly the survival of fittest.
Apparently, placements proved that Darwin’s findings don’t seclude to the rush of suitable mates.
There is a common connect when it comes to either getting hooked or beating the wisest at the placements. Both give a satisfaction of achievement beyond the natural feeling of happiness.
What more? Here it goes:
(1) In placements, it is the package. Nothing beats the package. Try convincing your friend that profile speaks more than package, he will still ogle at the numbers that stretch.
With the boyfriend story, it is the handsome one that is taken notice of.
(2) In placements, the interviewer has no idea what you can do and you have no idea what is needed of you and both begin from scratch.
“Why is your engineering score less?”
(I screwed up my projects with movies and the HOD never liked me)
“I was doing more in college than in school, for example, I started an E-cell in my college..blah blah..leadership..blah blah..versatile..blah blah..dream big.
In relationships, you don’t know how you got there, nor does your claimed better half and everything begins with scratch. Well ya, it ends with a drama.
(3) During placements, you believe you are the best the company can have. Every other contender sitting in the small room with files and neatly combed hair is no match for you. The feeling is Spartan and confidence is enormous.
In a relationship, it’s the same story of false presumption that you are the best the other can get.
(4) Initially, you are willing to wait. Wait for the recruiter and wait for the lover. Then, you get used to it.
(5) You dress the best for placement. You dress what you don’t like but what the recruiter might. You notice that a particular shirt is lucky though it doesn’t go too well with the pant.
In a lovey dovey situation, you dress for the other.
(6) You forget a lot. Forget to take copies of resume or wear a tie or your particular certificate. Your memory elapses in a sudden rush. You tend to lose things everywhere. It’s a natural trauma of situations. You lose track of what is happening with friends and family. Only your job matters.
In a relationship, hmmm..you know better.
(7) You are forever editing your resume or your couple photo for the Facebook profile photo.
(8) Last but not the least; to end it with a truth that tastes funny, in either, you don’t know whether to speak more or less!
Friday, March 9, 2012
He didn’t look up but gestured that it would take him few seconds.
I let out a sigh, obviously to show him that I was irritated.
“Sorry, sorry. I was just in middle of the sum”
He marked my mess card and I just left the place scorning.
This story repeated every day, every meal and every five hours. Our college had 2 food messes
and I never changed my eating place even once.
I saw this particular mess guy who was always involved in some book. He took some time to
mark our mess cards. I didn’t bother to ask him what he was doing.
I studied, did projects, presented papers, wrote tests and even got through a job in the final year
but the mess anna didn’t change a bit.
He sat in the corner, busy with books, scribbling small numbers with his short pencil and smiling
apologetically at everyone who waited for him to mark the mess card.
Time flew and it was last before day of college life when I saw him. He was counting the coupons
of the mess.
I didn’t know why but a feeling inside me pushed to ask him questions.
“Hi, I am leaving college tomorrow”, I told him to start the conversation.
“Nice ji, all the best. Placements ho gaya?”, he asked. (Are you done with placements?)
“Ya, mostly I would be joining in Bangalore. What about you? What were you doing all these
days?, I asked in curiosity.
“Nothing ma’am. Looking at so many people studying MBA travelling from all over country, I
felt I must also study”, he replied.
“Oh! Wow! What course? Why didn’t your parents send you to study?”, I added more questions.
“I don’t have parents. And I need to earn to study. Two reasons”, he gestured smiling at me.
My heart melted and filled with guilt at same time.
“Why are you glum? Come on! They are more under privileged people than me. Feel sorry for
them, not me”, he smiled again
“Take my number”, I told him pulling out my mobile.
“What?”, he asked in confusion.
“Take my number and let me know what books you need. I will courier it. Let me know of you
need something else too”, I explained.
He looked reluctantly and then punched my number in his phone.
“What should I store as your name?”, I asked.
“Yadav, ma’am. Yadav. And thanks. I don’t know what to say…”, he controlled his emotions.
I smiled and joined my friends in the mess. I am to educate one Indian.
Please vote for me here
Monday, February 20, 2012
Ten reasons why I would miss IBS
(1) Pathway : No sunlight and yeah! lots of romance
(2) Bingers: Waste your time here in pretext of saving time for mess
(3) DJ nights: Unpaid music
(4) Hot water in bathrooms : even my home doesnt have this facility
(5) Individual rooms : Never again in my life
(6) Clubs: Where else do I claim some fame?
(7) Hype : Hype this, hype that, hype him, hype her. Hype it all.
(8) campusnet and LAN : for all good and wrong reasons
(9) Mess 1
(10) If you are reading this, then you.
Ten reasons why going back to corporate is freaking me:
(1) No concept of "bunking" . Its either casual leave/earned leave/paid leave and the blah.
(2) Friends are rare even if you ate with the same person everyday. They are your colleagues. You can share lunch but you cant exchange theirs with yours. Get the point?
(3) No cribbing or abusing. The exit doors exist in all corners.
(4) Time runs. You run. Boss runs after you.None of them have the count.
(5) Deadlines are there to kill you. Literally.
(6) Speaking less is way better. Get it, IBS?
(7) Early morning doesnt mean 10 a.m.
(8) To get on top , you need to put in an extra effort. But all your peers are doing the same. Deadlock.
(9) Laptops are not cool any more. They just mean more work.
(10) Movies will be watchd in theatre. Willing to bet?