jerks

why do they do this? over and over again? dont they get tired? its not like the job's easy or that he's not trying. but thre remains a question of time which is necessary. not something he mioght be given as a favour but as something he deserves. after all this, this i what they can come up with? i wonder why i still follow all this. addiction? u might say so. one word on the other side--i might say so.
i have asked this before. im asking it again. and no, i dont particularly hope for an answer. but whatever it is that they are fighting for, they'll never get it. never-fucking-ever. you cant walk over someone just he is civilized. louts. hooligans. bloody gutter-snipes.
or maybe its just because they have a severe lack in life. how many homicides can i commit? hitler planned his genocide pretty well. maybe i should take a leaf out of his book. they deserve nothing better. far worse, if i have my way. and some especially....by god, if i could only lay my hands on them..........
they think that their aggression is worth tuppence? they think that what they are doing is right? do they even know their own memory span? i'd like to see all these morons when they come lick his feet. wouldn't that be a sight. and they will. oh yes they will. i will see that day who laughs the loudest. for one thing, it wont be them.

a sound outside. wind...windchimes...late night. have you ever heard the sounds at night? in the stillness of sleep? magnified sounds. little tinkerbell sounds. windchimes. there they go again. how do u capture the sound? how do u make it stay beyond that moment? how do u fill the gap before it comes again? of its own accord. willingly. trees. leaves. trains. the odd rickshaw slowly making its way down the sleepy lane. suddenly something tears through the night. u start. sit up. then slouch back into the comfort of unknown sounds. and wait....for the wind. the windchimes.

at first i thought it was just another one of those things my machine loves doing. you know, you want something to load quickly and just then things get inexplicably slow? or low? or just fucking wht-the-hell-am-i-doing-here-? speed? yeah? well anyways i thought that's what had happened when i tried to write something on blog. everything comes, but this page where u write. so u wait. um...wait some more...refresh...aha!!!!!!!.....nothing. on a serious note---blogger's way of pouting? prolonged leave of absence? how romantic.
so, how have things been? lately a little bizarre. what with mum out of station, the liberty to go jump on the moon if i care to.....or other things which i shall discreetly leave out at this moment.
winter should have set in by now. the season of woollens and over-ripe oranges. the smell is here alright. the sharp tangy smell of winter. but winter isnt. its strange. when u wonder how the season can be so far behind with its smells already thriving. or maybe not thriving. maybe just an oversensitive piece i got below my eyes. boy does that sound corny!
everytime i look beyond my machine i see books. piles and piles of them. prreetty impressive huh? i know. if only the feel-good factor would last when i opened the fucking incomprehensible sons of bitches. execrations, execrations, where will all of this lead me? hopefully to a slightly clearer understanding of donne, but going by the looks of it......

dukhu

as the car moved away i could see his face growing smaller and smaller. standing in the rain, he watched us leave. with our unruly bundles. things sticking out, things pushing themselves off. a life carried away. 10 years moved into a new place. and he just stood. incomprehension writ large on his face. why did he wait? did he believe we would come back? did he think that the rain would stop, bringing sunshine and all the happy days? but then again, how would he know? and that's how i remember him. wet, fur clinging close to his body, a wet, dripping tail, still vaguely trying to wag. but the look on his face is what i remember the most. somewhere between confusion and disapproval. maybe he was just hungry. did he feel all these things or am i just looking for an outlet for the way i felt? i've seen him once or twice after that. never the same. he came after us, all the way home. but nothing was the same again. and then he disappeared. if i ever saw him again i'd like to say sorry. i'd like to bid a proper goodbye and not leave him with the falsest of hopes. he had seen us leave before, but there had always been a return. so what went wrong this time? why the absence? i miss him. miss his raggedy-ann looks, his tail nipped at the tip, his perpetually hungry look, his crucially mistimed bark. most of all i miss his presence near the door. a shadow on the doorstep. wish i could remember him some other way. but what sticks in my mind is that one soggy morning, with the rain just beginning to fall and the face of a lonely little dog. miss you.

i know, i know!!!!!! i have been away, and not with good reason. well i cant call orkut a good reason with all my good intentions.
on the college front. nothing. greek. some death. a wee bit of metaphysicals. but nothing. and oh yeah, lots of fish and lot of ruti and pauruti. my own theory goes that if we manage to feed the fish enough pauruti then they'll be pauruti and not fish anymore. if you cant comprehend this one, never mind. i wont hold that against you. the other theory says that overfeeding might cause them to die of stroke. serious things to think about. one might even consider taking the fish into consideration. but they're so bloody greedy! serves them right if they become pauruti.

the vagaries of passwords

who knew they had so much in them? and who knew others put so much in them! first its too short, or weak, or medium. then a moment of spite. a password which is finally STRONG! and then? the moment of stark realisation...what the fuck was it?????

late.

am late. as usual. its not like i leave home late or anything. its just that somehow or the other i am late for office. mebbe its just my distaste for this place. could be. well by now i have almost spent a month here. i have got to know quite a few people and they are by and large nice. well i guess wht i truly dislike is the fact that i have no way out of here. no, im cribbing again and that was not my intention.
well my intion then? just to post a blog. coz i havent done so in a while. bodhi keeps visiting my blog to say "she's ALIVE". well yeah dude i am. barely. but yes alive. alive and bored.
so what's new? the weather actually. its brilliant. today when i left home a storm arose. (storm arose? tht right? oh what the hell!) and the storm was brilliant. grey skies, wind blowing, leaves flying all over the place, the wind picking paper up and making little eddies of paper and rubbish. and people. thats the most brilliant part of a storm. people seem happy. free. carefree even. i love that. in fact, i love almost everything about storms. and then the rain comes. in thick, fat droplets. first a few. just to make you wonder where the water was coming from. then you look up. and sploch! one on your nose, the next on your cheek. one, two, three...a million. all of nature seems caught up in this happy dance. the tree leaves dance, the little multi coloured puddles dance...happy, happy, happy.
then after the rain. soft. wet. a little cold. birds sit on trees, their feathers all a mess. people pass you by, dripping. dripping umbrellas, sighing as they are closed after a good days work. happy. squish-squash go rubber slippers. wet clothes. clinging. water dripping from your hair. happy. a little cold and a lot wet. but happy. happity-happy.
then night falls and darkness gathers. a wet darkness. still semi-drenched. wet sighs. frogs, crickets, insects. everything bonded by a little water. a lot of water.
then? steaming cups of teas. hot pakoras. gorom gorom muri telebhaja. television. good adda. a cosy warmth that can come only after a drenching. draw your knees right up to your chin, sit close to mommy and talk of all the grand things you plan to do. happy.
outside the rain starts again. this time its not playful. this time its not a happy dance. hard and unforgiving, it banishes the rest of humanity from its sight. harder and harder it comes down, drowning streets, roads and the signs of life. you sit inside. warm and cozy. khichuri and alu bhaja safely disposed of. the tv has finally run out of things to show. talk no longer flows. as if afraid of the rain outside, it oozes. slowly. drips. slower...stops. draw the chador tight around you. lights out. everybody softly sinks to sleep. drowsy, you look out the window. the rain drops still dance, freed by the night. the street lamp creates a rainbow. distorted rainbow. splish. splosh.splish.splosh.......

just bored, tired, sleepy, hungry, sad, upset, angry....

another year. another exam. things seemed a bit diluted this time. coz i wasnt as involved as other times. how could i be with this darned office thing?!!! reached college so late today and i could hardly stay after it was over. such lovely weather outside. the last place i want to be in is this office. but what choice do i have? zilch. zilch, zilch, zilch.
felt a bit bad about fighting with mum this morning. i did not want to fight. but just coz i have office cant mean i cant go to college. especially on admissions day. mum is right about them not needing me. but then i need them. would she understand that bit? i dont know. mebbe she will. she just wants me to be ok, both physically and mentally. i understand her point too. but i have to do certain things too. life is so fucking confusing.
i know for certain the one thing that i like to do. that i want to do. have no one controlling my share of time. no one to tell me when to go where. no one to tell me that i cant leave when i want to. no one to bother me. ideal? i know. so who doesnt want an ideal life? i know at some point in time i will have to work to earn a living. and i know saying that i am still too young to be doing that is just being a shirker. but hey what's life without a dream??????????

reasons not to wear sleeveless to office

statesman has one amazing thing. there is no dress code here. people wear what they feel like.friday dressing galore.more like a sad residue of college. so i felt emboldened. took the plunge and wore a sleeveless top. and boy do i regret it. remember those frigging acs i had talked to you about? well it seems like they do work afterall. especially when you choose to leave your sleeves at home. the upshot? i am freezing. outside feels glorious. warmth! blessed warmth!!!! god! just yesterday i was like, sheesh its colder outside than in here. looks like someone up there heard me and, for once, was on statesman's side. so here i sit, hugging myself in a vain attempt to warm me up. would they let me off if i told them that i was feeling cold? hm...now what could the chances of that happening be?

some stories...never told

machines here are bizarre. some open this site. some refuse to point blank. some are rather polite. they will lead u on with the hope that some day u will reach your destination. all too soon you begin to believe. all too soon you are brought crashing down. the realities of a blank screen. hopes. false hopes. the world is too full of them already. what need do statesman's machines have to add to that ever growing list????

Unique, by a thousand miles

wishful thinking

lazy sunday afternoons by the sea. the proverbial sun-kissed white sand. baobab trees gently swaying in the breeze. a cool shade. a cooler sea. soft lazy waves lapping the shore...kids in multi-coloured sea gear. sand castles, sand pools, clear blue-green water. beer bottles by the side, half buried in the sand. just perfecting the art of laziness...oh before i forget...amazing lunches...stuffed on heavenly food. living life. enjoying it. not merely existing.
think im trying to make you jealous? think again. just trying to relieve happy memories. happier days, happier times. innocent times. in all likelihood this entry's maing as much sense as a pea-fowl's, but what the hell. wish i was at home. then i could upload a few pics. never mind, will do that soon.
downloading the weather right now. gonna be a very hot day tomorrow. the weather dept is funny. everytime i call them they say "Likhun, discomfort day.." what the crap is a "discomfort day" anyway????
i may get to make pages today!!!! hooray!!!! tomorrow when people read the statesman (however few, ahem) they might just read a page made by me...ah the day-dreams...

office. again.

right. 3rd saturday at office. saturdays are usually quiet around here. no pluses go on tomorrow so a lot of people have their off days today.
there's this thing with the astrological predictions in the afternoon statesman and me. never never never do they have anything good for me. today they had this one thing. i was to go on a shopping spree. i was! i really was supposed to go to new market to buy cloth for a couple of new kurtas. as usual was too lazy to get out of the house early. and hence no shopping. must do this one of these days. umm...mebbe monday or something. what are the chances of me going to JU and then going to new market and then going for work? pretty close to zilch im guessing. ok ok, i will do it soon. gosh, i need to pushed and prodded to go shopping!!!! not that. im just short on time. plus lazy. i have to admit that one.
hm...so what now? right now is too early for work. stories dont come in so early. the work effectively begins from say 6 when you have to sub the stories so that pages can start getting made by 8. their deadline is 10 pm but ive never seen them finish on time. so i guess its sort of a guideline, more than a proper deadline. things do get done by 11 though. but that's early city. late city stuff happen til later. there arent significant changes. but there are some. and what with the world cup there are definately changes in the sports section.
the sports guys are real fun. had a nice chat yesterday. my immediate boss was absent yesterday so had virtually nothing to do. plus some awesome games were on. go argentina!!!! well anyhow, i actually asked mum to send the car in a little later. not cause i had any work to do. but cause i was chatting. hehehe!!!! what a turnaround!!!!!

i have nothing to do. hence a post. strange--do i write posts only when i have nothing to do? but then that shudnt be the case. does that mean i dont really like writing? or i dont have time for writing. oooffff. how terribly inane. i guess it would have been better had i decided not to post. but now that i am here, i might as well make use of the time. having said that, wht do i put?
looks like all the rahuls are in news. funny but they are ALL called rahul!!!! how came this to pass? that right english? i have my gravest doubts. and i complain of bad english. but i swear the purulia copies i do are so so so SO bad!!!!
harshe's counting the no. of shots cambiasso took to score the goal. everyone's an expert. sigh!

things to think about

they have this thing called the world cup diaries. maybe i should start one for office. saturday sundays at statesman are like weekends at any other office. things are generally slower, fewer people turn up. but since this is the business of running a newspaper, every frigging day is a working day.
i thought a lot about this work yesterday. the primary question is--is this what i really want to do? i know if i stick to it i wont be sub-editing for the rest of my life. but do i want to deal with news and reports? then again, there's this thing about french. i want to finish it. i want to learn german, russian, spanish, greek, latin and sanskrit.ok so that is going to take me aa better part of my life. but hey people have dreams. i want to learn them. plus there's linguistics. honestly one might think that im just trying to create a world so tht i can show-off to people. but that's not my intention at all. these are things that i love. nothing interests me as much as language does. the nuances of a language, the intricacies of its usage, its development through time--all this fascinates me. and i think that is as good a reason as any for me to work in that area.
having said that, i do not plan to quit on this one either. i have never run away from anything. dad and mom both tell me that i am not a shirker. just because i havent enjoyed the first few days, does not mean that i am not going to stick to something i have decided to give a shot. that is just not my style. yes you might say that i am trying to prove a point. but that is not to anyone else. not to the world. not to my parents. just to me. i have to do this.

there's this window in office--all boarded up with transparent plastic, thanks to the barely working acs--through which you get a glimpse of a time gone by,of an era which you can see only through boarded up windows. there are old run down houses there. just their rooftops. but that's all you need. there's one house which has a garden chair on the roof. rusty and neglected,somehow, it still manages to retain its charm. who sat there? on which windy evening overlooking the still growing calcutta? who thought what there? love thoughts? happy thoughts? sad,crushing ones? who sat there? amidst the ruins and overgrowth, i can still see all those generations, taking their evening stroll on that rooftop.or then again sunny winter afternoon. a little girl and her mother.oranges.warm, sweet smelling blankets. the winter sun. where did all those years go? where did all those people go?

there's nothing like home. no place like it. really. mum's taken to feeding me after office. quite a lovely treat. promised mum l'll be with her in 2 mins so this one's just to say helo to my keyboard and to admire my typing speed. im on a "confidence boosing trip" so i'll just ignore the typos ok? hehehe...who gives a damn neways? piyu seems to look for a opening at statesman. poor kid. if she only knew...na na...not fair of me. i wont scare neone off. just let them come and get freaked off. speaking of which am quite freaked out myself. u know why. qont get into it. well i know for a fact tht im being silly. well then i am going to be silly till i find a way to stop being silly. god this keyboard sounds like a frigging type writer! dad would go berserk if he saw it!!! lol!!!!

lows, lows and a few highs

grave universal fact--no job can be called fun. i seriously question those that say that they have a "fun" job. long hours, virtually no time to call your own, generally feeling trapped--sounds melodramatic? well then im afraid thats precisely how i am. enough of work related shit.
saw fanna yesterday. now i know why i might support the ban. i mean im all for freedom of expression nd all tht, but this kind of shit hs to be banned. its a three hour long torture session. it sucked so bad that after a point of time i just quite watching it. i think i must have fallen sleep or something like. havent seen such a boring, inane, unrealistic film in a very long time.
on the one good note--its world cup time!!!! im little bugged by this brazil mania, but things should be fun. one question, why is it that i am always the one who is opposed to popular taste? not the first time i have noticed this. gut feeling says it wont be the last time...

at office

did not believe i would be ever doing this. am sitting in office and typing blogs. am not too sure if im allowed to this or not. but what the hell. im still new. this is the famed statesman. hallowed. glorious. whatever. frankly speaking, i hate it. i just want to go back home. never thought i'd love the sight of home this much.
what is most appalling is the kind of stories i have to handle. (like everyone else i guess). egs? ok here goes. today i've done a story of muslims worshipping hindu goddesses, well constructors beibng saved and maoist alerts being issued. plus some dumb grievances. ok i have a grievance of my own. the people who write in those stuff shud at least get the english right!!!!!!!disaster!
neways, more later.

it seemed very strange to me today as i sat there. maybe it was a combination of the lake and the wind in my face, but as i sat in the gathering dusk i distinctly felt i was seeing a part of me that i was about to leave behind. it was almost as if i had a vision of this very evening, from a vantage point of several years down the line. im not quite sure if all of this makes any sense. infact im inclined to agree with aveek when he says that "lake er dhare elei sala shobai philosopher hoye jaye". but there was something. i dont quite know what it was. where would i be, where would all these friends be, where would the charm of this evening be tomorrow? it all sounds a little melodramatic now as i type in my room, but the feeling doesnt go away. someone had told me about this thing called a future memory where the present became a memory in itself. i guess that's what it is. as i sat there i could see the whole world before me with my hopes and big dreams. but all dreams come at a price. do i really want to take off from here and go away from all that i have come to know and love, or hate, during these past three years? moving away is not one of my forte and here i have a world which i have built, where i am acknowdged, for whatever it is worth as myself, no strings attached. yet i know i have to go. go somewhere i have never been before. that's a challenge, that's my dream. but then where does this evening go? where does this present go?

impact art

awesome play. credit--bodhi, didi and gogo. i swear, the level of impact had me totally stumped. let me illustrate. my mum, who was, incidentally, seeing the play for the first time, had no clue that there were no water bottles, several apples, chlormints and will/scripts in the "original". ive never quite enjoyed an evening as much as i did today. and i had added entertainment in the form of arunabha. altogether, a great, if not weird, time. too bad people missed out on this one. u rock guys!

nothing

I've got no deeds to do, no promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.....

nothing, nothing, nothing. nothing to do. that day someone asked me what we famed JU people do after class or when we have some spare time. with all due apologies to srijani and debo (i know i deserve that kick. i really do), i told him the naked, unflattering truth--nothing. we hang out at monida. that's it? that's it. so what's my routine like? wake up, go to college (this involves a lengthy what-the fuck-do-i-wear-? session) and then--do nothing. we play bridge and gloriously lose by 2000 points. then we wear bridge out and go and sit at monida. we stare at each other. we stare some more. something needs to be done. debo, say something earth-shattering. debo--"ady's play was bad"...we make plans to go to dolly's (our ONE escape route), we create plans worthy of the great KGB/CIA to avoid the avoidable and then bitch about the avoidable. we even crack jokes--"Ma muffed, me miffed"--with saumava leading the way. we accept that the heat has got to us. but miss college? no way!!!! therein lies the paradox. if you can solve it kindly let me know. at least there'll be something to look forward to--other than nothing....

which which is which?

happy birthday!!!!22 fucking years!!!!you're old enough to be married man! on a serious note, do u think u should be serving chicken on your birthday? think about it. anyways, here's a happy birthday coming to you from...um..let's see.. JQ, Stephen, Ronan, Race, and i hope to get the other name ASAP. lol. happy birthday!

thoughts

been a while since the last post. as i used to say to my now-virtually-non-existant diary, i dont have an excuse. just plain lazy. among other things i went to see ady's play the other day. how was it you say? well not bad, considering the only thing i can compare it to is her other play. better script, good music (has the same number of songs as any musical so i was, to tell you the truth, a bit confused as to the purpose of the play. but what the heck, i wont be complaining about good music). and oh, most importantly she wasnt the "one" and the "only" on stage. so tht, i must admit, was a huge relief. but the thing tht got me most was how "real" she was. ok this will make sense only to those who've had long, "emotional" conversations with her. the whole act--crying, "does he love me?", "he doesnt even care enough to ask!" and the crying some more--almost had me repeating my lines in the play. so which which is which? either shes a damn good actor or shes a damn good actor. ahem. anyways enough said and done.

hm...

guess i owe this post to bodhi. thanx to him i got back to "my fair lady" after eons. come to think of it i could actually list that film as one of my all time faves. at least the soundtrack. so here's to one of the songs which i know to be really really real. i do know what it feels like just to be "on the street where you live". i shall not go into details as to how big a fool i made of myself thanx to this song and my own insanity. but on hindsight it was worth it.

I have often walked down this street before;
But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before.
All at once am I Several stories high.
Knowing I'm on the street where you live.
Are there lilac trees in the heart of town?
Can you hear a lark in any other part of town?
Does enchantment pour Out of ev'ry door?
No, it's just on the street where you live!
And oh! The towering feeling
Just to know somehow you are near.
The overpowering feeling
That any second you may suddenly appear!
People stop and stare. They don't bother me.
For there's no where else on earth that I would rather be.
Let the time go by, I won't care if I
Can be here on the street where you live.


ps: really really real? huh!? never mind.

a blonde joke

ok this one's amazing http://kevinsnet.livejournal.com/2649.html

French blog

recently i've been getting a lot of complaints about the "french-ness" of my blog. no one noticed milton. everyone saw the french. ah well, c'est la vie. but here's a piece of news for my non-existent french connnection. late night radio france internationale--the music's awesome. and for those not linguistically inclined this might interest you--the sheer number of hindi songs played is seriously not funny. any guesses why?

The Lonely Night

Through the lonely night the train rushes on,
Ceaseless in its haste,
Stopping for nothing, fearing for times of waste.
Darkness blindfolds time's ever-rushing passenger
Pushing it on to the edge of doom.
Cloaks as dark as the hour of midnight
Cover the train as it rushes on through the lonely night.
Suddenly a tiny ray of light awakens the sleeping giant,
A small ray of hope
Bewildering it, only to be plunged into the depths of blackness.
Sleepy stations fly by, human figures fixed by the harsh light
Of the few bulbs strung carelessly
As if daring to defy the dark.
The stark background engulfs it
And before long it is gone, gone forever into the realms of reality.
The train plunges on into the nightmare of dreams.
The stars above look down upon it.
Cold and distant, they know what it is to rush
They know what it is to be alone.
But the moon is not there
Perhaps it is too large, too garishly bright.
Perhaps it is just the new moon.
But the night knows no reason, no logic, no reality
The train moves on, trying forever to escape
The clutch of a hand as cold as death.
It races with time, wins over it.
Only to be defeated.
Only to be plunged into the pall of despair.
Only to be left rushing through the long, cold, lonely night.

me on tv!!!

hey guys, will be on tv for a debate on the 7th evening. think at 7 on bangla ekhon. kinda like self advertising, but wht the hell!!!

Nevermore

Souvernir, souvenir, que me veux-tu? L'automne
Faisait voler la grive a travers l'air atone,
Et le soleil dardait un rayon monotone
Sur le bois jaunissant ou la bise detone.

Nous etions seul a seule et marchions en revant,
Elle et moi, les cheveux et la pensee au vent.
Soudain, tournant vers moi son regard emouvent:
"Quel fut ton plus beau jour?" fit sa voix d'or vivant,

...

Sa voix douce et sonore, au frais timbre angelique.
Un sourire discret lui donna la replique,
Et je baisai sa main blanche, devotement.

-Ah! les premieres fleurs, qu'elle sont parfumees!
Et qu'il bruit avec un murmure charmant
Le premier oui qui sort de levres bien-aimees!

--Paul Verlaine

?

what if bad mood and grumpiness were like...well...like things you could simply fold and put away?maybe even frame and then just shove it into some dark corner. makes one wonder at the power of the "what if?"

SCREAM!!

dear rahul,

what happens when you see something you've hoped all your life you'll never see? some people become hysterical. some people shut up. some try and shred the past into pieces. it doesnt work. i've tried it. i know. why is it that some people never get what they want? why do you have to have at least one person on that dreaded other side? im tired of explaining the difference between a crush and something more. im fed up of being laughed at by everyone. even those who pretend to understand. maybe after all this, it should just go away. common human decency. should i be careful what i wish for? maybe...i see him. nice. her. a killer. a long time ago i had vowed that i would kill her, without knowing who she was. no wonder my friend didnt believe me. didnt think i had the guts. i didnt. i dont. once some one very nice almost dragged me to meet him. hand-writing analyst. thank you. but what happened? nothing. nothing happens. shit happens, yes. nothing else. sometimes i long for a magic wand to...no, i have a lot to be thankful for. i am. truly. but what do i do with that tiny black&white newspaper cut-out which i tried so hard to blot out, in a cab on a sunny afternoon not so long ago? when will it go away? ever?

lo, lola, lolita

this book has something about it. for one thing, it evokes very, very strong emotions.

help!!!

i really need the sutta song. can any kind, understanding soul please comply?!

train catching

few things to do when you miss your train:

never thought you'd need this huh? well you never know which bond flick script you might be writing next, so go on, take a look.

1. look for a auto driver who does NOT have a f****** cellphone. and even if he does have one, pray to god he does not use it when your rushing to catch the bloody train. ps: why does every soul down south have a frigging phone on them?!!!! were'nt we supposed to be a 3rd world country or something like that? news-flash: it's a totally different world that the south indian (read: bangalorean) auto drivers live in.

2. when you near the station and see a train at the platform from the auto, do not shout (with any form of conviction) "that's a local train". reasons? a) local trains don't have ac sleeper class coaches. b) they don't leave at the exact moment when your train is supposed to leave.

3. if you have any friends already on the train, they must NOT pull the chain. yes i know it looks tempting, but the 1000 rs. fine, especially when you're returning from a financially taxing trip, along with a month's imprisonment is not the ideal solution. go ahead and scream at them, but that red chain is a massive "no no".

4. oh by the way, if you're talking to those very friends on your phone dont ever say "no no, oh shit no!". the line might just get cut and even though you dont want the chain pulled, this could lead to a lot of very heated souls. a better choice? "pull, pull, yes, yes!" (and no, im not running a porno blog.)

5. this one's a beauty. look around for some nutcase who tells you "you're too early for tomorrow's train". boy, all that temper really gets the adrenalin rushing, and trust me, you need that for the rest of the pre-train journey.

6. suddenly see an apparition of a cabbie who's willing to drive you to the next junction for 600 bucks. (you cant be too sure if it's the same bugger who made that guiness record-winning joke). make a dash for it. dump you luggage and yourselves into some squishy omni and pray very hard. your back, butt, knees and leg might ache away to glory. but on the bright side, you won't realize that your whole body is aching. i dunno, but it's one of those crazy tricks tough situations pull on you.

7. looking for a variation? here's one. have one friend call his/her parents 5 mins before train's supposed to leave and say they've not reached station yet, and then have the line cut abruptly. then mistake their no. for your own parent's and actually take that damn call. after that i leave it to your imagination. i'd ideally tell them that we're safely on the train and then hope to high heavens they dont really figure out that no self respecting train ever has a blaring car horn.

8. now comes the interesting bit. look out for all the red lights. sigh. get furious, coz nothing's below 72 secs. then voila! you're past it! zooming ahead of those dumbjock drivers. try counting the number of lights you jump. but take my advice, dont try it. it's way more fun just looking outside open mouthed and thinking "boy, bond must've had one heck of a time!" but this one's seriously not for the faint-hearted. count on having lost at least a few years of your life on that ride. oh and, i know you'll not have the time, try and get the cabbie's address, just in case you want to post him a x-mas card. it's worth it. or better still, keep in touch coz you never know when you'll be late again.

9. once at the other station, run like crazy, bag and all. now you'll know why everyone tells you tyo travel light. but never mind, too late for regrets, just run. ok, when you're throwing your bag on to the tracks to run across the blessed train, never jump before bag. those things are bizarrely designed. even the devil could'nt pull them off the platform without yanking off his arms.

10. anyways, now next to the train. safe, right? wrong. indian railways is one of those things which just might not want your happiness, let alone have you go back home in one piece. they have these dastardly things called general sections. (once described very aptly as "general sex" compartments where the only criteria is that you have to keep up with the sex. think there are no takers for this theory? try contacting JU 3rd year english and ask for chicko.) so you haul yourself and your blessed bags onto this crazy contraption and look around. lo behold! there arent any passages between coaches! why? coz these damn things are'nt connected at all! so off you go again, this time looking for a familiar looking coach. by the time you locate one and are up, bags and all, the trains off again, chugging like a little ol' lady. but thankfully this time you're on it.

11. the last part's easy. just lug everything behind you and go on a cross-train sprint, looking for your compartment. now you know what the members of the fellowship felt like. you also know that once on the train there's no need to run any more, but somehow your body doesn't seem to respond to that logic. and that running with luggage between people who, lets' just say, love their inertia of rest, is a task that would challenge even hercules.

so now that you know what to do, try it sometimes. you could always reach on time, but hey this one's fun too. almost like a movie. especially so when im not in it.

ps: variation: after all this you're still adventurous? go into the next coach for a smoke late at night. finish, come out, and what do you see? you just saw a passage, now you don't. why? coz some jackass just wanted to shut the bloody connecting door. now, dont panic. if you're lucky, the train will have stopped at a station, you'll find some one willing to open the train door for you. a short jump, a quick jog, another jump up and you're home safe! see, it was'nt so difficult now, was it? now if you go into all the possibilities...the train not stopping at a station till say the wee hours of the morning...spending a night with perfect strangers...the train leaving without you on it...again...ah well life's a miracle, aint it!

hm...

is there any easy way of knowing that you're in love? i mean, how do you realize that you have fallen so hopelessly for someone that you are willing to overlook every fault in him just so you get to see the best things? is it when every thing that you do seems to be linked inexorably to him? is it when you really can't think of a situation where he's not there? what is it? well, when you come to think of it, there's no one answer, is there? all the things which seemed so corny before suddenly becomes not that bad after all. evening walks, endless talks about...well...nothing, seeing that awesomely cute blush appear at a private joke. when lo behold! you can write love poetry! sounds familiar? cliched even. yes, but then what is it that brings a smile every single time you think of singularly common moments? maybe the question i really should be asking is that how do such all-too-publicly discussed emotions suddenly become so private and individual? and you know what? the funny thing you'll notice about lovers is that they're a horribly superstitious lot. this that or the other and they get freaked out thinking some catastrophe is on their way. touchwood.
well anyhow i've drifted far and wide from my original query. in all liklihood, there's no straight answer to these questions. like every other bugging question, i guess. but nonetheless its fun to think about it, whatever be the outcome. or the lack of it! happy thinking!

just a simple story

have you ever wondered how most of the stories we love are the simplest ones? ones we have heard so many times, yet every time we hear it again it just feels as though it were the first time? i guess a lot of people have thought about it, judging from the never-ending stream of narrative throeries. but somehow i think great stories are what they are because they can make you feel so comfortable--like the smell of newly washed linen, like the all-too-familiar bus ride to college, like the long-lost photo which has amazing time-machine like properties. you know them. yet you want to know more.
just today i heard such a story, which i'm sure will sound banal and inane and, frankly speaking, cliched in any other time or place. my mum told me and my brother this story of a little adventurous kitten and ball of wool. been-there-done-that you say? i thought the same thing. but somehow, as my mother went on with her tale of a little girl watching a kitten unravel a nearly-knit sweater, i could see my mother's curly haired 11 year old self fascinated by so "story-book"-like an act. i could see my grandmother and her friend chat incessantly, unaware of this minor wool-tragedy unfolding before their very eyes and the little girl gleefully sharing the kitten's sense of adventure. the house, the room, my grandmother's friend--i have never seen them. the cat has died its nine deaths, possibly in all the proverbial 14 generations. but yet, there's something that i know so intimately about the story. a recreation of a memory, a borrowed memory. a story which became a part of my mother's memory and then became mine. that's a really good story. that's a classic.