The three-and-a-half of us

I live in the presence of humble beings. Whether they are intrinsically so or exalted presence humbles my comrades is as sensational a topic of discussion as the question that whether the pet dog of Ashoka's seventh wife was known as Tommy or Chintu, or did he have any seventh wife at all. The bottom line is, I see them humbled. (Experts say that Ashoka was highly influenced by the west and had changed it from Chintu to Tommy several times, but her orthodox wife changed it back to Chintu - This was the sole reason why Ashoka converted to Buddhism. In my opinion, although, the best name for a dog is either Odie or Kutta. [Click here to read about the history of Kutta]).

I immediate companionship comprises of two-and-a-half people these days (the half symbolizes occasional interaction from one of the three creatures), but mostly it is the three of us (Jotshi,Punja-bee and the humble I) or the four of us (Jotshi,Punja-bee,Thee-Pooh and the humble I again) who can be seen working their way, as if they have all the time of the world, towards Subway(tm) or SDA(no tm) to while away their time while they have some to while. We three(or four) can be spotted pulling each other by our bags, pushing others off their paths, delivering our that’s-what-you-get(tm) punches, pinching(with corrosion as a result) and mostly laughing like hooligans at everything or nothing. People know us a couple of maniacs (how befitting - Mani(ac)s), as the crazy phools(Gobi ke), or maybe as insane insaans. But that sounds all the more amusing.

With time, each one has whetted their skills for cracking and deciphering far-fetched and baseless PJs. At times they're so far-fetched they seem to come from the other end of the universe and our wonderful, unique and acute apprehensive abilities have had the pleasure of apprehending all of them effortlessly. The PJs do sometimes venture out into the realm of what is popularly called 'Pondy' but then it is all a part of the game.

The startling part is, that over time, we have become similar, the three-and-a-half of us. How? Well, all of us have two hands, two eyes, one nose (with two nostrils each) and the biggest coincidence, none of us have thirty-two teeth. Now what else would you call that but similar. We like and dislike the same people. No we don't dislike people, we just like others more. We study the same courses and take our exams on the same days and sometimes even at the same time (and even in the same room - how astonishing, isn't it?) Now what else would you call that but similar. Even our histories are similar. All born and brought-up in India, all passed through the dreaded JEE, we consulted each other before filling in our options as Chemical-Delhi, and there we are... I mean here we are. Now say not similar! Huh! We even swear the same words and use arcane code languages to describe our surroundings an example of which is:
"Josmoshi saasmaali tosmo osbomtyuse haisami. Hasma Hasma Hasma." (I doubt anybody understanding that.)

But there are, co-incidentally, some differences too owing to the foreign elements that sometimes mingle and affect our states of existence. And sadly these elements shall continue to practice their influence on our poor members, making us more and more dissimilar over the quickly impending summer. Alas, it is all a part of the game. We still stand as a tripod (with half a central leg) and continue to benight the sight of passer-bys, continue to compress and extract (extremely perilous and difficult operations conducted on some members) each other, and as a result act as a recipe for a perfect whiling of unneccessary time and enjoying amidst the commotion of all tutorials, exams and other similar dreary entities.

Some people never change

Twenty seven murders, thirty eight more attempts, smuggles worth millions, innumerable thefts and countless wily tricks (at the age of nineteen) had made her the most satisfied girl in the world until she woke up one day and owe it all to an obscure dream, she felt something very heavy on her chest, something rotting in her mind and an invisible force that pricked every part of her body. It was what we call… remorse. This compunction had taken over her and made her cry incessantly for day, thanks to one dream she never told anyone (except me) about so that I could warn the world to stay out of the clutches of evil.

She wanted to become a normal girl, like all the other normal girls, and live her life in the same traditional way, the much clichéd life of integrity and honesty, a life she had once thoroughly despised being an iconoclast herself. She remembered she had parents and the prodigal daughter, at once, packed her bags and knocked the door of the house she was ensconced in as a child. Her mother opened the door and as we all know mothers are all-forgiving, that is what she expected, but her mother flinched at the sight of her and something seemed to throttle her as she closed the door at her face and ran into the shelter of her house.

This completely broke her heart (or whatever was left of it) and tears rushed to make way towards the ground passing over her swollen face (out of shock and despair). She thought of going to her best friend for help and hoped that she accept her back. She reached X's house and saw her in the garden but as soon as X caught a sight of her, she stood where she was, shocked but not scared, to show her that she was shocked but not scared. But as she reached into close proximity she shrieked loudly and ran for her life. She pursued her and caught her by her clothes and told her that she had left that world, was repentant for all that she had done and wanted to be her friend again but X struggled in her grip and managed to say only one thing
'You will never change! Will you?', and hearing this she loosened her grip and X ran for miles before stopping. (She was reported in the newspaper the other day).

Now she had only one alternative to prove that she had changed. She had to surrender herself. She decided to walk to the police station and give herself in. Along the way, the people who passed her by maintained a vast distance from her (probably fearing their lives) and she ignored them all and walked into the police station. There had been a prize money (goodie bags and gift hampers) for the person who caught her dead or alive but no person had ever dared to come close to her, forget touching her. She walked into the police station and as the inspector of the station descried her face out of the window, he became extremely delighted to see the lion enter the cage itself. But as she entered his room, he covered his face and fell towards he ground and a thing similar happened to all the other constables in the room. She told them that she'd come to surrender but astonishingly they all said
'No! You can never change! Go Go! Leave all of us alone! Please go from here!'

Now this was more than she could take and she had only two options (actually three, I'll tell you the 3rd one later). Either she could go back to the sordid life of crime or she could have no life at all and she chose the second. She ran towards the pond (with passerby's having similar reactions as earlier) and without second thought jumped in. Since she did know how to swim, she drowned without any problems except that the next day myriads of dead bodies (one her and many fish, frogs, snakes etcetera) floating in the pond. The pond was covered with mud and abandoned for ever; imagine the plight of the people who did that task. There was no cremation or burial because there was no one capable of enduring the stench and that odor.

C (that's her name), you had another option my deer. You could've had a bath and changed. But alas, 'Some people never change!'
Moral: Bathe and change daily or C's fate shall afflict you too.

Of egos and pants

---------PART I ---------

Paean to the ego

I am a man of a thousand achievements and a million and one possessions, eight billion talents and boundless virtue, or so it may seem or I may claim humbly enough. I take respite in the hope of being different, unique, disparate from all 'cause I've heard or held an unfounded belief that the difference makes the difference and indifference is the difference I cherish. Assuming that I am unassuming, a verily presumptuous presumption, the possessions and the disparity ought to be subject to indifference, but the ego relishes the affected grandeur and affects the affectation in a manner to dislodge it up to soaring heights. Then rouses the pretense , from nobody-knows whence, and pretends with all its might. The show(off) must go on.

Thousands flatter and billions slander and some genuine praises find their way into the foreground. The ingenuous emotions cast their way onto the countenance and the thoughts relentlessly recount the remarks as the second's hand counts. The undying surges of excitement and agitation roil up the serene barn of the mind, which has not descried serenity since it first visited and was shoved out by the redoubtable surges. The pleasure of the ego tingles and caresses, but the brutal despot leaves behind pangs and tears. The cycle moves and the spokes of pain and pleasure vacillate until who knows when.

In the background, there's just libel and nods of approval which engender mirth ascribed to countless other egos. But thank goodness it works this way, Thank goodness the veil of distance bars all obloquy and protects the ego from ravaging the barn completely and mercilessly. The game of all egos is played rhythmically, in harmony and arouses perfect delight for the spectator, oblivious to how the he too is simply playing a puppet. It panders and pangs and counterbalances so well, the positive hope of positivity never dies.

To regard the other as conceited is the nature of conceit and it remains so typical, unchanging. Go ahead, oh slanderer and besmirch me to hell, defile my reputation in your thought and in the thought of the surroundings, but I couldn't care less or atleast say that try not to. And this indifference tickles my thoughts. But the reality still has its feet fixed firmly into the ground. I too am a puppet, afflicted by this very hope, the possessor of a million and one, the personification of virtue, I too suffer the same. But it elates my ego to proclaim that I am different, and difference is grand, but only because I see a few of the slew of souls who have not yet been able to proclaim what I aver, what I confer, that I know that I am just an obsequious minion of my ego serving it no end, endowed with the hope that it will becalm one day. It gets distended by the fact that I realize it lives and yearn for it, the insatiable one, to leave satisfied and let lady serenity in, then.

---------PART II ---------

The jeans of my dreams

Pants or jeans are better then people. And today, occurred a horrific event which I have still not been able to digest completely.

I sat blithely facing my PC when I remembered it; I remembered my pants(jeans), the soft, blue, faded, comfort giving and fingerhole-spangled pair of jeans that I'd been awaiting for the past few days to perch, folded up in my almirah but the moment had not arrived so I decided to discover the truth behind the situation amiss. I bolted immediately towards my mother and asked her for the pants and incredulously enough she refused to give it to me on the accusation that it had catered to another finger hole at a place where it should not have, the defiled jeans. But I demanded to see it and she wouldn't let me because she was always against me wearing that lovely piece of cloth for the reason of a simple, cute little decent finger hole(at the knee). I harped and carped vehemently until it was finally bought into the room from the nether regions it was reposited in, ready to be given away.

"Oh this! Only this! This can be stitched without any effort!" I said with a relieved smile.
"Thats not possible. This cannot be stitched. ", and I knew her ulterior motives behind saying that.
"Oh no please! I know it can be", I begged
"Mani, you're not going to wear jeans with holes"
"I like these jeans!", I complained
But she was mercilessly indifferent to my imploring.
"If you wear these again, I'll tear it", she threatened me and slid her finger through the hole to warn me.

That was it. I was in love with the jeans and my mother did not let me wear them. So it was fine. I snatched the pair of dead cloth out of her hand, and with one fierce movement of my hand it rent apart. It felt like suicide and I walked away with a grimace.

I really loved those jeans. Such a beautiful piece of cloth; immensely tender and caring. And I tore them with my own hands. I wanted to cry but could not. It takes me months of perseverance and tolerance to endure a new piece of cloth for a long time until it is rendered comfortable enough to be wore devoid of any misgivings about its behavior throughout the day and at that precise moment when I fall in love with it, we are sundered apart.

Inanimate objects elicit love much more easily than people, because they are so predictable, so helpful and selectable. Their inanimateness is their virtue. Take for example a book, one could love a book. You have the fullest opportunity of being yourself, of being off your guard while with a book. Like a lamp, a lamp is lovable. It'll give us light, beautiful peaceful yellow light and demands only a predictable about of power, a nominal amount I say. People are fickle. Don't put the PC in the inanimate category because this devilish piece of plastic and metal is the machinofication of fickleness. Pants are better than people and I lost one today.

--

Foods Feuds

Its the chicken-soup reign, again. As I noisily sipped the soup, it made me remember the typhoid days (and nights too), when I was supposed to have two big bows of soup in a day. Not that I don't savor the stew, but the everyday notion of it is a bit too much, esp homemade chicken soup has that homemade healthy, rather a very naive kinda look and taste which makes it even more unappealing.

The chicken soup lives, owing to the 'fact' that I ostensibly am become weak, my skin is darkening and the mental tension I have creates a need for rest. By the way, thats what my Mom feels although I wonder. According to her, my health is monotonously detereorating simply beacuse I eat skimpy quantities. If only someone could tell her what a ravenous raavan I am. And not just that I eat less, I eat all junk, oil and fat. Greens for me are a strict no-no, you see.

Sporadically and suddenly, at times, my mom shoots her statements in a plaintive yet authoritative voice, "Oh! you've become so week". Oh gosh! I thought I was just a day but now I'm week!! And then I flex my muscles and smirk, "Thats not true at all! See my muscles". "Look at your stomach!", she retorts. I then tighten my abs and show her what a macho I still am but I'm getting weak and puny and dark and tense and a million other things.

The chicken soup is still bearable. Umm.. Lets just say I'm inured to it now, but carefully note what follows. Due to a heavy soup with scads of chicken bits, which is generally served to me at around 8 in the evening, my appetite for 'food' further plummets which is the cause for more criticism and disapproval. But how, tell me, do I explain my plight to her ?
"Mom, I've had soup just now"
"So what ? Soup is only water and with that petty amount of chicken you feel full ? Boys of your age eat double than you guys" (My brother, too, is at the receiving end).
"If the soup is water, then whats the use of giving it ?"
"Shut up and eat"

Ab kya karein, atyachaar kee to aadat see pad gayi hai.

I can never make her understand this, I feel. So I quietly drink the soup and calmly have my food because I just can't help it. Perhaps, she knows less about material and energy balance or maybe I know too much.

Serious post (about IIT and all)

I have been tagged. But before I dilligently wipe that tag ka daag off myself I have something more serious to say. My neighbour's sister-in-law's daugther's friend's pet cat ate her per pet rat but that is not what I wish to tell you. It is even more serious. A matter more sober than you can ever imagine emanating out of my thoughts.

In a programme on discovery channel they said that after 70,000 million years, there would be no more horses left on earth. Extinct, I say extinct! Can you believe that ? But that again is not the serious matter I wish to throw light upon.

Now without wasting my precious time, let me come to the actual topic. Mr.Al Qaeda. Yes, he is the topic. Now some of my friends here would think that I'm a stupid fool (I'm a phool you fool), referring to a group of activists as a Mr. but but but, you don't know the inside news. Al Qaeda is a person who acts like a group to protect his identity. He has got out a hitlist in which he targets useless things like Taj Mahal (which will supposedly be blown off on 15th aug), Homi bhabha research centre and some more futile agencies. But what he also has in mind to attack is IITs and IIMs! Arjun singh was not enough, now Mr.Qaeda wants to try his luck in devouring what remains of them. Ridiculous.

He plans to bomb IITs and I don't know why I feel its going to be IITD. Maybe because he knows I study there (so-called study). But I have been trying hard to imagine how the scene would change, the possibility of which is not really remote, I must add. I was telling this to my friend and she says, 'Oh then they must've increased security in IIT'. And as I told her, that keeping a bomb in IIT is not as easy as snatching candy from a child. It is as easy as giving candy to a child! So all you people who are either IITians or friends/brothers/sisters/parents (or koi aisa rishta jiska koi naam nahi hota) of some IITian, beware you could lose a loved one (or a hated one). I am getting a weird feeling, something might go wrong. My friends, the people I know... or even myself. Lets keep a check. If there is a bomb blast in IITd I will post the same day and if I don't.... Means.... I'm in swarg. (Or my net is not working)

Lets get on with the tag ka daag... Raam Pyari has tagged me.
I am thinking...
and hence my knees pain. I think I must not think... OOOOOO... yeh dard!

I said...
OOOOOO... yeh dard! Suna nahi kya ?

I want...
to want nothing.

I wish...
Abe wish want mein kya farak hai bloody ???

I miss...
bus,train,flight,taxi,car,cycle... bas bas aur kuch nahi bacha.. rocket mein mai jata nahi

I hear...
I don't hear. I'm deaf, dumb and blind. Even my keyboard is braille.

I wonder...
Why I even try wonder!

I regret...
nothing that I can remember... I'm prefect.... Errr I mean perfect!

I am...
!Xobile. And learn to pronounce my name!

I dance...
On the floor (mostly).

I sing...
Using me throat.

I cry...
to enjoy. To have fun. To get pleasure.

I am not...
Evil. Trust me.

I write...
in english.

I confuse...
many times b/w left and right!

I need...
one nylon pant, 2 samosas, 1 face wash.. I think thats it for now

I should...
never lie.

I finish...
Shukar hai... tuff tag ka daag!

Anybody wanna do this evil tag ? Then you're welcome.
As for me Adios and keep lookin at the news channels...

Adamsez

My wash-basin has been annoying me for the past two months now. Its a stupid piece of... of whatever the blody thing is made of...Grrr.. its such a bloody stupid basin. Ask me why! Ask Ask! Ok. I must not overreact. Let me explain. The problem with it is that whenever I bend to wash my face or open the tap for some purposeful purpose, I see one thing written in front of me in the basin. It says 'Adamsez', which I always read as Adam Says.

Good enough. I have heard a bit about adam. They say he was the first man on earth though I still think they should call him the first baby on earth but anyways. Adam says something. But what ? That is the whole bloody problem! What does Adam say afterall ? Isn't that bizzare! Giving me a piece of information, a piece of apparently useless information. Why ? Because its incomplete. How dare you give me a piece of partial apparently useless information ? (That was for the basin not you).

I have searched all around for one simple clue to what adam might be trying to say but no! Nothing! Not a letter! Now I'll always mourn the fact that I always knew adam says but I will never know what he said. What, oh cruel fate, you have for me ? Why, I ask, is this being done ? Why me and why only adam! Okay. Don't worry.. I'm chill.

I have a plan to get rid of this kind of a problem for anyone in the future. I'm going to invent washbasins with moving and changing captions. Wallah! Thats it. I will spend my life trying to figure out what adam says and tell it to the whole world using electronic-moving-and-chaning-text washbasins! That'll be my purpose of life! Perhaps it IS my purpose!

Enough crap. Talking of crap I remember the story of a scrap. Recently, a good friend of mine wrote me a testimonial

He says : the most sexy and sporty surd i have come across in my life. and my very close friend.
(Thats his point of view)

I find it a bit weird and overconcise but then he has thought of me and written good things so I accepted it. The very next I get a scrap, out of the blue, from the old guy saying..

He says: oye where is my testimonial??????????? :-( acchhha likhiyon

Good enough. I thought I should be kind enough to do what he asks. So I wrote a tesimonial for him.

I wrote: He is the most awesome and the coolest guy I've ever seen. And he is very funny.

Exactly on his lines because I thought thats his choice when it comes to testimonials. Very well. Next fine morning, I get an e-mail from him subjected 'testimonial'.

dude,
he is the most awesomw and coolest guy toh theek hai.
dont write i m funny. everyone writes it. write that i
m sporty and intelligent......

cool

thanks

And I was laughing my eyes out at that. I showed the whole thing to a friend of mine and she said 'Who is this loser ?'. The point I'd like to make is, I really like the innocence and honesty of the person when it comes to friendships and he, I assure you, is not a loser but a really good and funny friend of mine.About sporty and intelligent, that I don't wanna comment :D.

Me In You. Kay. Paattoo

Writing a blog, is child's play. Easy job, I tell you. Some people love writing posts and sharing stuff but still those lackadaisical insects wounldn't gather enough courage to write one complete post. Darn such idiots. They find it hard.

That bloody Mr.X was one of them. He no more owns chapaat. Infact he is no more(Obviously more nahi hai, insaan hai). Meet me, I'm !Xobile. I'm from south africa and I'm a real funny man. (You were supposed to laugh now) so I bought this blog. That gives everybody a reason to be happy.

I am a rich man. You could call me 'Ando ka rajja' and 'bread ka badshah'. I have around 113 factories in 150 countries which produce bread and omlette. I learned how to cook an omlette and toast bread while I was in nottingham. Then I opened a small omlette shop and due to my sheer genius, I am sitting here today and I am rich rich rich.

Okay enough. I've just changed my name to !xobile(I'm sure u dont know how to pronounce that) . I'm not rich or anything... I'm the normal stupid mani enjoying my life in nottingham doing what I always wanted to do. I am enjoying all the freedom I wanted to do whatever and whenever and eat anything I want. I'm the king of the world... Umm... I'm the king of my world would suit better.

We're a group of 10 people (9 lads and a lady) whiling away our time and money in nottingham. Its a fun place to be honest. And its all the more fun when you're the welaest person in the group. My friends go out daily to do their work while I wake up at 11 just because I'm hungry. I can eat anything I want. Hahahaha. I don't know how to cook anything except omlettes (that too I can't turn it upside down. One of my friends' do that for me) and maggi. I make excellent maggi. But mind you, I'm the cold-coffee champion here. May it be .5 or 10 people waiting for a cold coffee, I'm the cold coffee guy here. But then sometimes I wonder eating all this cheese and drinking all this pepsi's is gonna make me real fat and chubby by the time I reach back. Oh.. I forgot I have only diet pepsi, so there's no problems.

I am a lazy fellow. So I got myself a pair of roller blades riding which I go to the grocery. So this one day I was skating around the store and one of the salesperson says
"Hey.. I got these roller blades at home!"
"Oh ya! They're reak fun"
Though I wonder what'd he expect me to do ? Worship him or something for that ?
And then one day, I got down from my room and started moving along on the skates and one english boy standing nearby says
"Skates!!! Wow!! Hey can I borrow your skates!!"
So I said "Mate I'm skating right now"
So he says "Oh okay.. Lemme help you skate.. Come hold my hand"
So he holds my hand and starts running with me and he was about to make me fall
"No No.. Its okay", said me and slipped away..

About the Mate thing. Like we guys say yaar in India or Dude in America, here the system's different. The guys here say
"Hey.. How's it goin' mate?"
And girls say
"Hey.. How's it goin'. Wanna mate ?"
And the answer to both of them is "Fine! Just fine!"

I am not much of a travel-bug. I like hibernating at one place. Maybe coz I'm too lazy to travel but I don't know, until you're not completely awed by something you see, I feel its not worth. My friends mock me for this. Though there's another extreme in our group too. One of our friends K likes to visit all museums and places of historical interest in UK. Isn't that shit scary ? And he's ready to spend his entire life savings on tourism. Amazing. Infact we have all kinds of items in our group. Let me not start describing them now.

We have clicked over 2 gigs of pics here. (Yes sir.. Gigs.. not gigabytes.. Huh.. thats the english way of saying it). People are really crazy about photographs... By the way, If you really wanna see my new pics, see my orkut album. (As if you will haha!).

Oh man!!! Its 3 am now. And I think its time I got some sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Me In You. Kay.

There's just 14 types of blogposts I can write. One is the stupid type and I don't remember the rest. But thats not an offence is it ? And even if it is, boooooo 2 youuuuuu... Now, generally, It is a tradition to say 'sorry for not blogging' after you return to blogspot after a while but I'm not gonna do that as I know there's nobody dying to read my stuff.

If you've had the courage and determination to read this far, I can surely say one thing, You're really patient (Take care of your health yaar!). Writing this post is going to be tough and exciting. Tough because this laptop's keyboard sucks and exciting because this is the first time I'm blogging from outside India. Yes! Foriegn! Videsh! I'm sitting in UK. (Background music please)

Time here has fled quickly, very quickly. It feels as if I came here only 2 weeks ago and today I.... Oh no! Wait! I did actually arrive 2 weeks ago! So my body clock isn't that bad afterall. Don't ask me what all has happened, because there is too much to tell. I was planning to do an intern for the summer but the embassy guys didn't like that so now I'm here on an "Exchange programme for research purpose" and guys, I'm one hell of a researcher. I remember the time when I had lost one of my bathroom slippers. I searched for them, couldn't find, so I researched and reresearched... untill I remembered I didn't have any. So apart from practicing my researchive skills I'm here to enjoy, sleep and loiter around. Though I really don't relish travelling a lot, but a semi-paid vacation is nothing I'd wanna miss.

The problem we face here is that we guys have to walk around everywhere and transport like everything here, is extremely costly and much out of reach for us broke lads. So the other day we saw a guy sliding around with a skateboard and in less than 3 hrs, we had a skateboard, on a contributional basis ofcourse. But to be honest, it didn't help much. Now I'm thinking of buying skates, individually obviously, but now I know how a poor man survives. In India, I'm like richie rich and all. (Yes my dad owns oil wells and all)

I've been dying to catch an english accent here, but unfortunately, the bloody thing won't come on. But I have full confidence in myself that by the end of this bloody summer, I will bloody have a bloody good english accent. Oh bloody! I'm using the bloody word bloody, bloody too much. Damn bloody.

If somebody asks me, whats the best thing about england... I know nobody would ask, but still, I'd answer, the weather. Amazing. And even more amzinger is the sunset, it takes place at bloody 10 o' clock!!!! Isn't that just great!!!!!! Ok.. It isn't.

If I read through this post, I'm sure I'd find it really goofy and I don't even have the courage to do so. So I simply end it here. Its maybe not the post, but me who has become dumber or duller in terms of conversation but I'm truly sure its not that big a deal... Umm.. Maybe!

Revelation

The first part of this article was written in 1931 and the latter part is what I've completed now.

30th April, 1931
In the evening today, for some obscure reason, my room got populated with mosquitos and for a reason obscurer, they started waging wars against me. So I asked my mom to give me the Baygon Spray. While handling the spray she said
"Don't forget to wash your hands after using it"
Something hung my processor and I stood still for a moment before processes could get normal and I asked,
"WHY ?????"
She quickly replied
"Because you have to eat your dinner after that" (My mom's processor is real fast!)
It took me a lot of artificial intelligence and compuational time but I figured out she meant that the intake of the poison could be harmful. I quickly turned to the bottle which said (Yes!.. bottles also speak)
"Insect Killer"
I transferred control to my internal dictionary and figured out the meaning of insect in a giffy. (Ahh I know I'm fast. Thank you :D ). But suddenly lightning flashed with thundering sounds(like in hindi movie), camera zoomed out and I stood there, shocked, still.
Slowly tears rushed down my eyes. (Yes.. Tears rush slowly!). I was shocked. After all these years of thinking I was a man, a human, a homosapien, today life had played a joke with me by make me realize my true identity. I am no more than an insect. *cries* *cries more*

(Few Minutes later)
Uhhh! The keyboard got all wet. Anways. Life is harsh and I cannot bear such harshness so I decided on.......
(just builing up suspense)
Yes I decided on.....
(Mysterious music on)
Yes Yes Yes!!
On suicide!

I was going to kill myself using the insect killer, but suddenly, something struck me..
"If I'm gonna actually kill myself, why don't I do the things I've always wanted to before I die"

30th April, 2006
With that thought, I went out of the house and did whatever I always wanted to do.. (not to be revealed) .But when a few days passed, I though I have done everything and was ready to have the poison, I remembered one more thing. Needless to say, it was a vicious cycle and no matter what I did there was always something to be done. Today, It has been 75 years. And when I look back, I realize why I was wrong!!!

Did you know : Suicide is a criminal offence.
Well, most of us know this fact. If you commit suicide, you are entitled to 7 years in prison and 32000 rupees fine. Fine ? Talking about suicide. There are only two ways of commiting suicide,
1. Consuming Rat-poison/Insect Poison.
2. The remaining methods
Category two is paticularly boring, but today my friends, I choose to throw light on the former method.

Consuming rat poison/insect poison is an inelegant style of killing yourself. So if you're feeling suicidal, remember, this is not the way to do it! Reaching this point, I'm sure you might be wondering the reason to my assertion. Even if you aren't I'll make you read it!
Haha!

Consider this news article in a leading newspaper (thats coz I buy that newspaper),

Vargamulla Swaminathan Prithamisu was found dead in his room today with something whitish flowing out of his mouth. We had an interview with the CBI Director, Ramlal Damduja on this, "Vargamulla Swaminathan Prithamisu was found dead in his room today with something whitish flowing out of his mouth" he said. He had been watching too many saas bahu serials, too seriously and was mentally depressed, infact psychotic about the fact that Parvati had been falsely charged of murder in one of the serials. "He had been watching too many saas bahu serials, too seriously and was mentally depressed, infact psychotic about the fact that Parvati had been falsely charged of murder in one of the serials." said Damduja. Damduja was very disappointed. "I am very disappointed", He added later.

(More on saas-bahu-stuff by my friend odie)

The above article proves that it was Rat Poison that killed a person.(I have known from secret sources and experience that Vargamulla Swaminathan Prithamisu was a human).The whole problem lied in the name of the poison. Tell me, If it can kill humans why the bloody hell is it called RAT POISON!

Whatever happened, Now its okay. But in these 75 years I learned one thing.
Don't take life too seriously, 'Coz you're not gonna get out alive and thats how I lived it.

Just a...

Recently there was an email, about a departmental magazine to be out in college and they needed articles. There was a punch line though, "See that the articles are related to the department". Then X came to the rescue and give forth this and I ask could it be more related to the (Chemical Engg.) department..

**

As the engineer trod the control room floor for the last time, for one last time he(not the engineer) looked around nostalgically. He looked at the high ceiling, the long pipes, the heavy railings, the dryers, the columns and in the end, he looked at her, inanimate and old but ever beautiful and he wept. He wept for the last time for the factory he had spent his whole life in was now to be defunct just like himself and his love. The reactor was old, as old as her, the reactress, but alas, time got the better of her and took her away. Since the time they were constructed, they had been seeing each other (with their eyes), they clicked and became the best of friends and the best of lovers. Being utmost quality, extremely strong outer walls, anti-corrosive material and huge (3m diameter!), they were the state-of-the-art, the best out of their contemporaries but they had never even considered vanity as a part of their mindset. But now, there were these young, energetic and more efficient ones, though even they could not halt the factory going out of business and all could be blamed on none other than, Distillo.(The distillation column.)

He remembered the youthful days, when they had just been installed. How happy they were, together, working, reacting and producing. But this world is a water bubble, happiness bursts and sadness outbursts .Distillo was large, really gigantic and he looked wicked too. Moreover, he was inefficient and restless, would disturb the whole production with his tantrums. Abi, the absorption tower was titanic too but kind and loyal. He was their defense against the fiendish Distillo. RotoDodo, the rotary drier, equally evil was Distillo's servile follower and his messenger. Though superficially, they maintained good relations with all, it was just a means treachery and craftiness they had been imbibed with.

"I wonder why the reactor work so hard these days", said Rotododo to the reactress one day in very mysterious way, when reactor had gone for maintenance.

"Because he's a reactor with principles.. He knows its his duty to react materials and give the best conversion" defended the Reactress. Suddenly Distillo came into the scene,

"I know he's hard working. But you know what reactress?" said Distillo, and started before she could say anything

"I really like you. You're really beautiful, but more than that you're honest and kind. Let me give you this advice and I say this to you only because I wish your good.. The engineers talked of replacing one of the reactors with a new young model and by showing that he's very energy efficient, he could outrun you and not get replaced."

The reactress was moved and she moved, thinking that what if Distillo was true. What would she do? Could reactor ever have done that? But fortunately enough and unfortunately for Distillo, Abi had heard the whole conversation and had told everything to Reactor, the moment he arrived but before he could clarify matters, reactress was taken in for maintenance.

That night, reactor went to Distillo with a temper uncontrolled, but his temper and himself were quelled by their mighty blows. When reactress came back, he was not there. She heard that he had been leaking heavily due to injury caused by Distillo. Furious, she demanded a reason..

"Don't you see it reactress? His treason ? He came to shut us down, just because we told you the truth but we had to defend ourselves."

Reactress collapsed, not physically though. While reactor was away, her efficiency went down, touching the ground. She was rendered useless by the malignity of Distillo and RotoDodo and by the Reactor came back, she had been completely dismantled and had been replaced by a newer, prettier and a more efficient reactress, but this, too, was the end of Reactor's life.

He was helpless and wept all the time and all he could do to Distillo is curse him and ask the reason why he did everything he did. Distillo always ignored him, keeping busy in his tantrums and evilness, except this one time, "Tell me why do you ruin everything! Why!?", cried Reactor..

"Okay listen up buster. For once and for all, We're all here to do our work and we do it. You both were reactors, you reacted, likewise, RotoDodo dries. I have nothing against you, but I'm just doing my work. I'm just a separator. Just a separator."

And after he gave this reply, reactor never spoke anything again...

Check please...

If you'd ask me, Well, Why would anybody commit that mistake, but still, lets say by chance you asked me, That dear, what set of people would you term as the most apprehensive.. Then within a couple of microseconds I'd speak out, without any doubt, Waiters. Yes Sir! The waiters at the restaurants. (If, out of inexperience, you don't know what a waiter or a restaurant is, Click Here)

If you want to get into a black hole of a situation and turn back to ask the dreaded Me, Why ??, it wouldn't take me more than 17 nanoseconds to give you an extremely sharp reply(very sharp hai yaar!) . The reply....

I've been to restaurants many times. I mean I've been eating in restaurants since the age of about 5.. And since then I must've eaten in about, close to 5 different restaurants!! And that’s like I eat out twice a year(Talk about extravagance!). Okay, I'm being a bit Jackie* here.. So what ? Huh!

So every time (5 times!!!!), I go to a restaurant, there's like tables already setup for you with plates, forks, spoons and even napkins. And you can use the napkins for free. They also provide unused toothpicks free of cost after you've eaten. I always get along 10-15 secretly. I have a huge collection of unused toothpicks. I mean its really grand.

Then they also have stuff for you to read.. There's this something called the Meenu card.(Those istupids pronounce it as Menu Card! How foolish!) I'm sure some Indian gal called Meenu invented that concept(We're proud'f you Meenu!!). So on the Meenu, you have thingies you could order out there. Yes!! Order! Just like the your-wish-is-my-command genie type.

There's this friend of mine. She really really really rich (ameer papa kee bigdee huvi aulaad types) and she goes to a restaurant every week. I mean, can you even imagine that !!!! So she has much more experience than me in case of restaurants and waiters... So she told me many things...

for example-

a)In restaurants, it is a tradition to say, "Cheque please" and never say "Oye! Bill laa be!" or something. It is considered bad manners.

But sometimes what she says doesn't work. The last time I went to this 'Cheeku da dhaaba' (Mind it, its a very successful restaurant!!!). And after the eating, I told the waiter..

"Cheque please".

And he said "Saar! Kya check karna hai! Sab theek hee lag raha hai"

"Ohhh... Nono!"

"Cheque! Cheque!"

"Oh saar! Payment cash hee hoga! Cheque to bounce ho jaata hai"

Then I had to resort to "Oye! Bill laa"

And he got the bill.

b) Always! Always give the waiters tips before you leave.

Okay. This is solely the reason why I call waiters the most anxious, apprehensive, ever-worried people. They always want tips. I mean don't they have any self-esteem or confidence ? Always asking for tips from others ??? And I've actually seen that!! The last time I went to a restaurant(Another very successful one I must say), after I'd eaten and paid I called the waiter and said

"Oye! I'm in IIT... Tips chaheye koi ???"

He turned away without saying anything... I guess he must've been trying for AIIMS. Though, I did as she had told me to.

I hope you got your answer. So the next time you strike a lottery or something and get a chance to go to a real restaurant, don't forget the two rules... Ahem ahem.. And stupid its not "Cheque please!".. Its "Check please".. Though I still wonder what is there to be checked!!!!

There's no cure for..

Once upon a time there was a contest, the Mr.Disease contest, which judged the best and the most powerful disease amonst all. Everybody had come, heartthrobs like AIDS, TB etc. Then there were different cancers; blood, lungs, skin. They all really looked nice. Not to forget Mr. Heart-Problems. There were small and mediocre ones like cold, cough, headache who had also come, although I don't think they had much chance of winning. But one thing to say, they were surely optimistic. And in the end came Mr.Old Age(budhaapa), quietly, unnoticed. In the audience were bacteria, fungi, virus and many more. They all had a great party and then the competition began.

I'm sure you might have guessed who won the competition by my style of mentioning it. Anyways, the competition consisted of a round where every contestant had to come up on the stage and say a few words in their praise. Whoa! I say modesty. So all the big ones came first and exalted their actions and narrated different stories exhibiting their mights. In the end came Mr.Old age. He was a huge, dark, ugly person. This is the story he narrated:

--
Once in a city lived a very intelligent doctor. He was respected and honored for his practice in the medical field and had his own style of tackling ailments. One day an old man, white hair, wrinkled skin, bent back came to him and said
"Doctor. I am facing a problem. Please help me out"
"What is your problem ?"
"Doctor, I cannot see very well. Everything is blurred. Please help me", said the old man.
"To diagnose a problem, we first find the root cause and then try to cure it.."
The doctor pondered for a minute and said
"As far as I think, this is due to old age and I'm sorry but we have no cure for old age."

The old man was disappointed.
"Okay doctor. My knees pain a lot, I can't even walk properly. What is the cure for this ?" said the old man.
"To diagnose a problem, we first find the root cause and then try to cure it.."
The doctor thought and said,
"As far as I think, this is due to old age and I'm sorry but we have no cure for old age."

He was even more disappointed this time..
"My digestive system has become very weak. Earlier I used to eat everything. Now I can't digest food. Can you give me some medicine?" said the old man.
"To diagnose a problem, we first find the root cause and then try to cure it.."
The old man was getting irritated by this dialogue but the doctor wasn't....
Again he said,
"As far as I think, this is due to old age and I'm sorry but we have no cure for old age."

Now the old man was really vexed.
"Okay doctor my head feels heavy all the time. How can this be dealt with ?"
He feared the doctor would say his favourite lines again and it came true
"To diagnose a problem, we first find the root cause and then try to cure it.."
The old man was getting red....
"As far as I think, this is due to old age and I'm sorry but we have no cure for old age."

"Shut up! You stupid ass!" said the old man..
"Who calls you a doctor ? You know nothing and have no cure for anything. You are a useless person and everybody says he is a good doctor. They are all fools. Get lost, I don't need your medicines..."
Suddenly the doctor interrupted,
"Ohhh! You have become so irritable and cranky. This certainly is due to old age and I'm sorry but we have no cure for old age."
--

There was a huge applaud in the whole auditorium. So now everybody knows who won. If sensory interactions happen to be all the source of pleasure, then wait until Mr.Old age gets hold of you and slowly, gradually devours your senses. And remember there's no cure for it.

Thats him, Mani.

Mani is a nice boy. Or atleast he's clever enough to make others believe he's one. But all his cleverness fails him to get what he wants. As it never matters who this dumb character called Mani was. The world moves on.

Striving hard to make a place in this speedy world and get himself a position, he fails to understand what shall come of use and what shall not. He think's everything's useless but, alas, the defect lies in his vision. The days pass and so do nights with him thinking of attaining one thing he wants to get in life. Peace. Nothing else but peace. Dreaming and doing nothing else. Not realizing his stay is so short he continues to wry around ignorant of the one day when he shall have to cry around.

He hates slyness. He says that. But saying that is of no use, it still stays with him. He wants to be liked, loved rather, but also wants to not learn to love. But he wants to love. He's a confused fella. His biggest problem is that he cannot stay in one mode of thought. The states are so extreme and inertial. In the company of more than one person he becomes the light-headed Mani, entertaining at times and hard to endure at others. But there's this climate he likes to be in, where in he's disappointed and sad. He's truly demented but he just wishes people know that too for some still think of him as sane. Sudden outburts or silent retreats are very normal for this abnormal being, if I may call him human. But humans know what is right and what is wrong. He's an animal going by his senses and always ending up with non-sense.

He thinks he's the best, most worthy and most capable though he never says this aloud, afraid of being regarded as immodest. Perhaps there's some part of pride related with being known as modest too. He says he likes honesty. I guess he does but there are these times when he cannot find the courage to be honest.

Sometimes he becomes outright expressing all that he bears inside while he choses silence at others. Sometimes he's not bothered about what all happens but sometimes he hates everything. It is the quality of the wise to learn from others' mistakes but this inane chap cannot accept his own as a teacher. The biggest quality he holds which makes him qualify as category #1 fools is trait of expectations. He is like that stupid spider who makes on building webs in the path of elephants. Perhaps it was him who a wise person saw and coined the phrase 'Try try until you suceed' or until you die coz you're not gonna get what anything by expectation except infliction. Ironically, I quote Mani "It is a sin to expect". They say a mob has no brain so by this logic you could call him a mob, a mob of frenetic thoughts, desires, worries and more thought and more desires and more worries and more demands......

If you're given a blank screen and a keyboard and you're told to type in something, most people I'm sure would type, '[My name] is a good boy/girl'. Mani used to do that too till recently I observed he's been typing 'Mani seems to be a good boy' in such a situation.

In this world, nothing comes for free. Nothing. Except.... Yes. There's one this which everybody can give! Advice. Why ? Because no one wants to keep it to themselves but push them onto others becuase one himself cannot listen but it is easy to make others listen. No one will follow the advice they give but act as if they're the directors of the IAC (Indian advice commission).

He asks me, 'Why, in this world, is everybody so selfish ???", and I tell him maybe he's right in thinking but maybe its his eye that eludes him. He has been made to imagine the world play as a merchant trade where every merchant is looking for his own profit, in a deal big or small. He's desperate to find selflessness. "Its there in you. Find it inside, you'll see it around.", is what I 'advice' him. Though there're more advices I keep giving him. For example I've been teaching him the definition of unfortunate. A person who gains pleasure by conferring pain to another is unfortunate as it will come back in the same way. Life's pretty balanced. But would he listen ? Haha. He thinks friends are for free. More than once has the thought incurred to him to drop all friends. Afterall, what good're friends ? Except when he needs a pen or some notes to study or a call to make.

The colors of the world attract him and unknowingly he is drawn into the vicious circles of life like the deer that runs after the mirage, tired, to know that what he got, was nothing he thought. Mani if you read this, please know that the world is round. It is round. Snap out of it. Please I selflessly want nothing but your well-being. This is my advice to you.

Update:
Mani likes dead bodies. He does not want people to be dead (though his want will not change anything) but the dead have a quality to be revered. A dead man does not jump with excitation while being exalted and a dead man does not cry when insulted. If a dead is told he has struck a lottery, he will not have a heart attack and if he is informed about his bankrupcy, he will not react. The only problem with the dead is its lack of life and love, otherwise it has virtues one a many. There's this poem he wrote once when someone praised his blog.

There are some reasons to respect a corpse,
But the living shall only disdain it,
For a dead shall not emanate tear drops,
may you disgrace or try to pain it,
For the dead shall not jump with joy,
may you express, your most extreme reverence,
For its inherent poise, you cannot destroy,
may you try a million, with unending perseverance.

So I regard those qualities neglecting its lifelessness,
Seemingly some might praise 'me' or 'my' exaggeratedly or otherwise,
But this tingle of egoistic pleasure aggravates my restlessnes,
I believe everything, my blog or me, is bound by demise.
The blogs shall keep coming and going and so shall the writers,
time ensures a replacement for all, time always has a way,
who am I to thank, there'r millions superior to me,alas, just overnighters,
who will continue to exist and enthrall, but shall be replaced one day.

Mani is hungry. Very. Of what ? He is hungry of virtues, of selfnessness, of honesty, of tolerance, of humility, of self-control and of love. How sadistic are you, the vices , why don't you leave him ? What harm has he done to you ? But do they listen ? They say Mani is a tasty mind to reside in as he obeys them very dilligently. What more do dictators need!

Mani, listen to me. Accept your vices. Accept them, embrace them. And embrace them so bloody hard as to strangle them to death. You shall get many things in life, family, friends, money, motor, gaadi, banglaa, (even maa) but the day you get their death, you will get what you have always dreamed of. So work on not thinking about failure, for 'The fear of failure is the biggest failure'. There're no setbacks or mistakes. Just lessons. (Courtesy: The monk who sold his ferrari, a must read.)

Thank you. I love you.

Firangi

Young deepu always loved firangis. (Esp firangi girls). In his dreams, he dreamt firangis. In his talks, he talked firangis. In his food, he ate (like) firangis. Deepu's papa was indignant at this absurd obsession but he didn't have much he could do.

"What do you want to do when you grow up deepu bete? ", asked his papa's cousin daughter's father-in-law's friend's son-in-law's brother(he was also called unkill), who had come to visit Deepu's family. Deepu's eyes lit up as he said
"I want to be a firangi!"
Unkill gave him a confused look leaving Deepu's papa to stand embarrassed. So his papa hurriedly took deepu inside saying "Arre.. yeh to bacha hai... Nadaan hai.." (Oh.. He's just a kid, he's naive)

When Unkill left, Deepu's papa had a raging discussion with Deepu and demanded such senseless obsessions should be got rid of, at once.
"Deepu get all this firangi crap out of your mind and start concentrating on your studies!"
But deepu was a boy of his own dreams. He was a freedom lover. At night, he woke up and went to his parents' room. He touched his sleeping-parents' feet, looked at them, cried a bit and left leaving behind a note.
It said "Dear ma + pa, I goes to bombay, becoming firangi. Dont cry. Dont wurry. Sleep. By"

But as soon as deepu stepped out of his house, it was dark.. Very dark! So deepu thought I'll go after 10 mins as he wanted to see his house, his room, his belongings, just once. So he went and sat in his room looking at his things for the last time. He sat in the dim light imagining how being a firangi would be, how happy he would become but he had no idea how to become a firangi.. Nevertheless, he was full of hope. He sat and thought.

Deepu woke up to see his parents and his 6 siblings surrounding him. They had found the note and Deepu had fallen asleep. Deepu cried. But his family gave him disappointed looks and everybody went away disgusted as his foolishness. They did not talk to deepu for the next 10 days to come.

But now, Deepu had completely changed. He did even say the word 'firangi' once. He did not go out to play and had started studying hard. As this time passed, his parents knew that he was now a new deepu.(New and improved). Deepu tried to talk to his family, but nobody talked to him.. So this time, his papa went to him...
"Deepu bete.. What do you want to do when you grow up ?"
"Pa.. First I will study very hard"
Pa was the happiest person on earth (and mars too).
"Pa... Then I will top..."
"Pa... Then I will get into a good college"
"Pa... I'll top there too.."
"Pa... Then I'll get a very good job in a good MNC"
"Pa... Then I'll work very hard and get promoted to become the CEO"
His papa was imagining his CEO son was almost beginning to tear (Khushi ke aasoon, what else ?)
"Pa... Then when I'll become the CEO, I'll earn a lot and keep saving everything"
"Pa... Then when I'll have a large amount in my bank, I'll give up my job and spend all that I saved to become a firangi.. "
"Pa... I want to become a firangi"

His papa moved out silently, disappointed.

-----

Today deepu is a firangi living happy with his firangi kids and firangi wife working in a small farm with all other firangi farmers and enjoying his firangi life. When you want something with all your heart, the whole universe (except his pa) conspires to fulfill your desire.

Aaj kya taareek hai bete

Till date(and time) about.. err.. 14+2+1 = 16 people have complimented me about my calculational skills. I'm too good at calculation. I know. Thank you. I remember this one time when my friend was panick-stricken as he had to submit his practical report for the final exam with only 10 mins left and he had to do about a million crucial calculations. He was hysterical.
"Get me a bloody calculator" he said to me.
But there was not a single bloody calculator in a radius of 3.12 km. He was about to cry when I patted his shoulder and said
"Don't worry my friend. I will be your calculator. ", I said with sympathetic eyes. (Yes the emotion lies in the eye!). His rocky heart melted smelling the friendly odour coming of my sacrificing words and his thankful eyes began to water.
"You're a real friend! I love you for this"
(Damn! Why do only guys say this to me!!)

As the melodramatic part ended, we started with our computational bit. He would say a huge 10 term calculation consisting of various operations like add, multiply and even subtraction and all.
"Okay now do, 28.2878 X 238787.3 - 3827.828 - 287387 ", he would say..
"Its 2762.71187434431434238" and would get an answer like this.
And before he would finish saying out the expression, he would have the answer(That too till 14 decimal digits). He thanked me as he wrote down each digit, taking him closer to the completetion of his darned calculations. Seeing my enagmatic style of calculation and expedited form of expression evaluation going on, a huge crowd gathered till the time we finished our work. As he wrote down the last number which signified his result for his 6 months of research, his victorious eyes had water, but these were the over cliched 'Khushi ke aasoon'. Nevertheless, he was the happiest person on earth and mars. As he got up from his report, the whole crowd cheered for me and applauded heartily. But my intention was not to gain fame or recognition but just to help a friend(I'm an angel type person). He ran to his exam room with hopeful eyes waving huge byebyes at me. Later I found out, he got an F for blashphemous results. Huh! That stupid creature, he does not know how to take observations and blames my overexceptional computational ability for his failure.

I may be as accurate as a 64 bit floating point integer and as fast as a 3.4 Ghz 512MB RAM PC, but I maybe wrong sometimes, afterall I'm human. It was 20th feb when I thought I'll break for 15 days and quickly wrote see you on 5th march. Damn hell! Its been 13days and not 15! So I erred. But well, once in a 18398283 times is fine I guess.

So if you ever felt that my name was 'Ze Exaggeratorr' or from the kinship of the word, you were wrong. Sorry, I feel greatly hurt to tell you, that you have been duped, for I'm back! (I feel sorry for your shocked eyes). Yessiree! Its me back here again for a 13 day break into action bringing loads of drama, romance, action, thrill, more drama, suspense, passion, even more drama, climax, anticlimax and many other sensational elements I can't seem to remember.

While these 13 days passed at their natural pace, I felt as if they passed by very quickly. Well, generally it would be I was at peace to have time skip by faster than it actually does but my life didn't change much apart from the fact that I did not post anything. It is, however, of little interest to anybody that I read the 2nd book of my life called The Alchemist. I'm not a book review expert so I'd only say, it is one of my 5 favourite books followed by 5.someone and 3 slots empty in that list. I see people reading 1000's of books but I wonder what fun they acquire of it... and to discover that I wish to read but my bloody impatient self does not allow me to. Damn it. Me not cares.

At last, I would like to thank you all for patience, perseverance and capability to bear me and my stupid chapaats. But you dare not forget to praise me for my super-extraordinary super fast and highly sound compuatational skills and unimaginable decimal accuracy abilities.

Dramatic Chapaat to Hima

Characters:
1. Me (Leading actor)
2. Hima (Leading Victim)
3. Patti (Supporting Actor) (Very supportive guy (cow nahi boy)..)
4. Alto (Guest Appearence)
5. My mom.

Scene 1: Somedate, Somemonth, 2004
Me (on phone): Hey you Hima! Come to me house. I have to show you something. Hurry!
Hima: Okay! I'm there

Hima starts running to me house.


I must tell you here,
Hima does sound like Hema Malini, but,

Hima is a boy, for example,

And not a girl, for example

.






Scene 2: Flashblack
Alto is one of our friends. I must tell you here,

Alto is a person, for eg.

And not a car!! For example,

So Alto being one of my friends has been, since childhood, a very intelligent guy. So this time alto had developed an FM transmitter that transmitted at 99 Mhz. Its mic was so sensitive that keeping it in one corner of the room, the conversation going on in the entire room could be heard by patti, who had switched on his radio in his house. Patti lived 50m away.

I must also tell you,

Patti is a human being, for eg.

And not a plaster, for eg.

Then, we had a plan,

No dumbo! Not this type of plan!

The plan was, I hid the transmitter inside one of the sofas in my drawing room. (Where I make drawings and stuff) and all I said in the whole room was easily audible to patti 50m away. Then....





Scene 3: Hima Arrives Hurriedly
Me: Hima!!! Sit! Sit! Me: I have to tell you something very urgently. Listen, it is great news and I do not expect it to tell it to anyone.
Hima(Getting anxious): Cut the crap and tell me what you're trying to say.
Me: Okay Hima.. Here goes.. I have been doing some work.. And now I can control people.
Hima: Ya sure. Control me.
Me: No No! I'm not kidding. I can actually control people. You want to see a demonstration ?
Hime: Yes!
Me: Okay.. See I will control Patti.. He will call you right now.

I sat down and closed my eyes. And I concentrated and said
"Patttttiii!!! Hima ko phone karo!" in a stupid voice 2 -3 times. The obidient patti called hima on his cell asking him if he wanted to meet after dinner. Hima said no.
Hima: I know you guys have planned it. You think I'm a fool ?
Me: Okay.. You want him to call you again ?
Hima: Yes...

The same concentration act and patti who's hearing everything, calls and talks about something random. Hima is now a bit surprised.
Hima: I know you're fooling me! I know patti's somewhere in your house!!
So he started looking around my house for patti. He looked in the rooms, behind the doors, in the bathroom.. He even looked in my almirahs and inside the pot. There was no patti at me house.

Me: Okay ? You want patti to SMS you now ??
Hima: No! Tell him to call me again.
Me: No problems!
Me sits with closed eyes and his cell rings. Patti has got enough arbit talk to call 3 times.. Now hima is a bit moved.

Hima: Okay! Now I want him to SMS me!
Me: Okay... What should the SMS say ??
Hima: I love you.
Me: hahaha.. No problem.

I command patti to SMS an I love you to hima. Hima is more than shocked when phone informs him of a new message. Hima reads the message. It says I love you. And hima starts jumping. He got so excited, frantic rather.

He called Patti.
Hima: What does this I love you mean ??? Huh ???
Patti: Oh I'm sorry.. I was sending it to somebody else.. By mistake sent it to you. (What a careless excuse!!)

Hima hung up and started dancing. Now he believed I was a perfect psychic.

For example,

Hima: Where did you learn this stuff from ? Please teach it to me.
Me: I learned it from the internet but I cannot teach you.
Hima: No!! Please teach me! Please! It will solve all my life's problems! Please!!!!
Me: But then you'll control me.
Hima: If you will control me, then I will control you.
Me: Wait till tomorrow hima. It takes 2 days to attain full control over one person. Wait till tomorrow and you won't even know whats happening to you.
Hima was so scared, he could've peed then!

Hima: Oye! Don't even think of trying such stuff on me! We've had a yagya in our house. And if you try something like this on me, it'll mirror back to you! Don't do it!! You'll regret!

A yagya, for example

Me: I'm afraid of no one! You wait and see Hima! You wait and see!






Scene 4:
Hima, the clever mind, had an idea. He went to my mom, but I had already told mom that we're gonna play with hima so not to let anything out.

Hima: Aunti. See what sort of things he is doing!
Mom: He's mad! He won't study himself and will not let anyone else study! (the days before JEE)
And mom went away to let hima sit, alone, in fear.

Hima, scared, wondered what was going to happen to him when I controlled him. How would he save himself ?

Me: Hima.. Don't worry. I won't make you do wrong things!
Hima: Please my friend. Please teach this to me! Please!
Me: Sorry dost.
Hima: Okay! Then I'll call patti and tell him what you're doing to him.
Me: You want me to get the cordless or you'll use your cell ?? Ha ha. I have no fear. I can control him, dude!
Hima was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. So I thought I must break to him, the good-news.

Me: Hima, I want to show you something.
I took out the hidden transmitter making him realize it was all a joke and he started abusing and hitting me while I kept laughing!!

Suddenly, Mom entered.
Mom: Hima, please come inside and have dinner.
Hima: Please let me sit here for sometime aunti. I'm dumbfounded. So mom went inside.
Me: Arre... Come on yaar! Have dinner.. I will not control you.!!! Hahaha
Hima was silent.

The End:
I went inside and after sometime, the door was open and there was no hima. (He didn't die dumbo! He went home!). This was how Hima got a dramatic chapaat. And Hima, Me, Patti and alto lived happily ever after.

Daalchini

Mom's not at home. She'll be back in some time. Tell me. What do you do when you're hungry ? When you're as bloody hungry as a hungry lion who bloody hasn't hungrily eaten for the bloody past 3.772 hungry days ? No No! I'm not going to hunt a deer now. I'm so hungry, I don't think I'm in India, I feel as if I'm in Hungary.

Once lurked a hungry lion, not to mention his 3.772 approx days old hunger. He was a youthful lion, naive thus. His mom had always taught him to hunt. She had told him about the velocity considerations, angle of approach and striking ratio while hunting deers, buffalos etc but what she had always made him remember was to never even go close to a human.
"Humans, my cub, are inhumane. "
His mom's word echoed in his ears. But today he was alone. Did I mention the lion's name was 'Daalchini'. Oh I didn't ?? I'm sorry. Daalchini's name was Daalchini (Irony hai na? Lion ka veg naam!) . Daalchini's mom had set him free. She had taught him the lessons she thought he needed and left him, left him to hunt and eat on his own, left him to fight and struggle, left him for him to make a career.. Left him to live his life. Daalchini was deplorable, furthermore hungry.

Where had the dear deers gone ? Those savory, juicy creatures. Suddenly, he heard a sound. No! He heard many sounds! Yes! It was them! The dearest deers! Quickly Daalchini, as taught, ambushed in the bushes. Shedding his naiveness, he jumped out too quickly but by fortune grabbed a tiny one. Pinku was the tiniest of the lot. Pinku skreiked and cried. Daalchini was a sensitive lion. For a moment he pitied pinku and wanted to let him go, but his hungry body would not let him. Pinku was no more.

Though pinku was tiny, he was enough to satiate Daalchini for a long time to come, about a day. Daalchini was restless. This was the first time he had actually killed some creature by his own hands. He had always got already dead food. But today, he made it himself! He looked at his hands. His yellow-golden paws appeared red. Red. Red. Bloody Red! Red damn it! Red! Daalchini could not speak.(Ofcourse, he was alone, kisko bolta ?). He could not sleep. He was in pain. Having devoured an innocent creature, was it worth filling his stomach ? Was his hunger greater or the pain he caused to pinku. Daalchini trembled, but the allayed body slept.

The glaring sun came up with a new morning. But wait, where's daalchini ?...
Daalchini had made his decision and he was a rebel. He set out to live a clean life. A life with no blood or war. A life where he would not have to kill with bare hands to live. He headed to the centre of the inhumanes... 'CITY'!.Daalchini was scared of the inhumanes, but his conscience left him with no choice.

It was now dark and Daalchini had found an even darker alley to spend the, yet again hungry night. This restful moment was preceded by occasional high-pitched-shreiks and stick-n-stone followings of Daalchini around the city. Now he was safe. Atleast he thought he was. Daalchini dreamt nicely of deers, buffaloes and other skinned animals, but he woke up with a pang. There was something pinching in his back and there were many a scared people shouting at him and running as he rose up. He felt as if he'd taken a shot of marijuana. It was soothing and comfortable. He fell again.

Daalchini smelt food in front of him. He woke up to bite unaware of his surroundings and as he finished he noticed a crowd of screaming kids around him behind a cage. Reference frame matters you see. :) Both were happy. Daalchini and his conscience.

---

The sad part of this post was written when I was hungry. Then mom came. I'm satisfied now, hence a happy ending!

Mai ab normal hu !

Shanti Devi was 72. She was 72 and alone. She was 72, alone and disowned for now, to her kids, she was just a blind pack of bones and skin who served no purpose. The destitute lady moved slowly with her waking stick unaware of her surroundings. Her eyes had left her long ago and now, everyone she had.... or maybe she never had them. Not knowing where to go, she thought death was her only home so she decided to walk slowly until death devoured her itself.

There are times when the normal Ze Exaggeratorr is not is his normal Chapaating moods. There are those times, when he does not want to pun or exaggerate or sound funny. When he cannot resist being that quiet and sensitive creep and when he cannot resist penning down the most sombre stuff. Now, I confess, is not one of those times! Okay, now stop panicking... and read.

There was a lot of noise she was just a stanger to it. She heard some sirens too but unconcerned she walked. Then suddenly, she heard an uproar and a blaring horn coming close. She never cared that she was in the middle of a road, where was to pass the president's cavalcade speeding around 100 kmph. But Bhanu Prasad cared! His valor pushed him forward out of the crowd to be held by the hand by a policeman. He pushed the policeman and ran forward towards the old lady as fast as he possibly could and pushed her aside just before the braking limo touched her and instead got hit by the speedy car and died there and then.

The light lady got a push so hard, she flew onto the footpath and rolled over to the next street on the downsloped road. The policeman he had pushed lost his balance, tripped and fell head first into an open manhole. The car in the procession braked so hard, it toppled over, took two or three overturns and crashed into the public which had been stopped by the policemen. The rest of the cars crashed into first car and the whole cavalcade was obliterated by an explosion which resulted from the combustion of the leaking fuel from one of the cars. All of the people, including the president died. The people who were left alive to witness the explosion ran with all their might, resulting in a stampede and killing many more. Yasaf ali, a suicide was also killed in the stampede but the burdensome weight of people's legs could not be endured by the bomb.

In a matter of 20.275(approx) seconds, all that was left, was Shanti Devi, bleeding from the head, unaware of what happened and continued to walk on, slowly, in agony and now, pain.

Hence I say, mai ab normal hu.
Kya aap abnormal ho ?

Sen Choori (Abe anpad, Century)

There are many who can speak french.

But there are many who can't.
And Im surely one of the many.

Funny are the people who can speak it.

They'r also funny who can't.
Still I think, that Im not funny.

Sense, it seems, is difficult to find,
So sense the sense in this my friend
I know, for you, its a tough one honey.
To tell the truth, I dont think there's any.

(Doesn't make sense ? Look out for the deeeeep meaning after reading the rest)

______

Recently, I have been busy. But what was I doing ? Nothing. College started and I have been busy. I had no time at all to do my regular stuff like blogging, chatting and black magic. Okay, at this point let me ask you a question.
Yes. A question.

Faint voice from ze audience: Abe saala post to likhta nahi question poochne lag gaya.
*Me ignores the voice*

So the question is, if you don't have any time and there's a quiz coming up, what job should you take ?? Nahi samajh aaya ? Read it again. If you still haven't understood it, its okay. Anyone who reads this blog is not expected to. Let me tell you the answer.

Every quiz has a buzzer round. And as the saying goes
"Har kaamyaab buzzer round ke peche, ek timekeeper ka haath hota hai"
Thats exactly the answer. Take up the job of a timekeeper. Then imagine, how much time you'll get to keep!

So there was this All India and All China GK quiz some days ago and they desperately needed a time keeper. I opted for it. But as soon as the round was about to start, I realized I was baywatch. Oh I mean I had no watch but I suddenly noticed that the quiz-master was a watchman (ie he was wearing a watch). So I kind of borrowed his watch without telling him as the cleanliness of my hand is great.(haath kee safayee).




One of the questions in the quiz was, to identify the hasti (personality) in the given pic. Seeing this, I remembered something and suddenly grabbed the mic from the quiz masters hand (again by cleanliness of hand) and said,






Apun: Eee dekho, haq babua ko. Eee senchooriwa maar ke, kitna happy hu. Hum bhi happy hone chaheye hu naa ?

Voice from the audience: "But Sir, I fail to reckon that, which seems to be the reason for your current elated state. If you could only expatiate the matter, I'd be grateful."

Apun: Abe oye chamgaadarrwa kee poonchwa, how dare you utter such a ridiculous question from your lowly mouth.

I have chapaated a 100 chapaats. And suddenly all of them applauded for me for about 4.2653 approx mins.

(Yes! I was in China!)

Voice from the audience: woa woa, sha, caan yu geev zee choeepaaa addrea ? Aa geev zee feva choepaa ?
(Translated: Wow! Sir, can you give us the address to your chapaating blog and tell us your favourite chapaat ?)

So this was the list of my fav. chapaats with their ranks.... And I am still waiting for their feedback.

Chapaating Chapaats

10.The Kind bag (See the kindness of the bag!)

9. Sabzi Mandi (Toms visit to the mandi)

8. Me wonders (Sometimes)

7. My stay at egypt( In max detail !!)

6. Bf Gf Kahanaanees (Both get chapaats)

5. Thank You (Yes yes you!)

4. (R/T)agging ho gayee re!

3. FAQs

2. KBC Dveeteeya (The easy way)

1. Modern Art (Ah! What an art!)



Serious Chapaats


7. Somethings don't need a title (A comparison)

6. Bloody Born Losers (No comment)

5. The line (Small story)

4. In Life... (A small huge thought)

3. Title-thinkers block (A 'love'ly dilemma)

2. Friends are for free (They acutually are!)

1. If you talk ... (Small poyum)



Thats for the 100th post. Seeya next time, same place, same PC. Till then, take care.
(I wish I had a bat to raise like haq!
Alas, a sparrow, for me, would to do!)

Yeh Chapaat Chapaat kya hota hai ?

Chapaat

Millions of people, till date have asked me, "Oye! What does this chapaat mean??"
Okay! Close your mouth now, I'm only kidding. Only about 4.3623 (approx) people have asked me. So as sit back, close your eyes and relax as you read the answer to the mind-gobbling.. oh I mean mind-boggling question posed to me.

History:
(Suggestion: Just try to imagine what you are read to get a prettier effect)
(The above suggestion was just a suggestion)
I was about 3.44 yrs old and I was supposed to drink my milk. Not my milk I mean cow/'bhans' milk. My mummy wanted me to become big and strong like hercules so she gave me complan in milk. "Yuss! Im a complan boy". But later I started giving her many complans about complain so we shifted to bournvita, boost, milo, EnergyG (local brand) and what not. Now I drink complan again by the way. So when I was about 3.44 yrs old, as my mummy keeps telling me, I was a patethic chap. I used to spill it everyday. Every single day I used to spill it on the carpet and my mom said "Beta! Carpet bada ho jayega, tu chhota reh jayega". As if I was bothered. What mummy did not understand was that who wanted to be 'bada' and strong. Mujhe konsa girlfriend pataani thee us time. And obviously carpet bada ho gaya to mehengaa hee hoga na!!! One fine day, I very normally, by mistake pushed the glass on the carpet hoping it would enlarge for the better when my dad came into the scene. Then there was a sound, heard far far away, heard y the chirping birds, heard by the barking dogs, heard by the swishing trees and heard by everything else that was left(and right too). Do you know what that sound was ??? It was 'Chapaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttt'. Later, the carpet died of malnourishment.

I was in class 3.3342. Ma'am had given us atleast 2 pages of homework to do. I remember how we used to write C.W. for class work and H.W. for homework. So these 2 pages of H.W. had to be done really urgent. As expected, I did not complete the H.W. very nicely. Infact I did not do it at all. Later, I was standing with two other guys(no not cows) in a line with our respective heads facing the ground(not the playground dumbo! zameen!!) as the teacher walked with her oscillating leather belt and said,
"Arre O! Kitne pagewa they"
"5 page sarkaar...errr.. madam"
"Aur tum ????"
"Hum teeno akele they madam"
"Tum teen akele aur woh do page!!! Bahooooot nainsaafi hai!"
Then she laughed. The other two creeps fell at her feet and cried
"Humein maaf kar do! Please! Hum gunhegaar hai! Maaaaa!!!!!"
And suddenly, teacher's mamta woke up and tears started to crawl out of her buttony eyes,
"Kya kya! Kya kaha tumne! Maaaaaa!! Mujhe aaj tak Maa kisi ne nahi bulaaya! Jao mere bacho... Tumhe maaf kiya"
The teacher was single and had no kids. By the way this was all planned by those two guys. Kya planning thee baap!
So, I being the only prey left... Suddenly the teacher said
"Kyu nahi kiya homework!!!" (she couldn't speak english na!)
"I am sorry ma'am.. I forgot.. I mean I bhool gaya" (I spoke only english.. Ahem ahem)
"Oh bhool gaya!! Khaana khaana bhoolte ho kabhi ???", she outcried in her outrageous voice.
"Seldom but yes.", I said in an amazing australian accent.
Ma'am couldn't understand what I said and again there was a reverberating sound all over... Class 1 guys heard it, class 2 guys heard it, princi heard it and rest did too. Do you know what that sound was ???? It was 'Chapaaaaaaaaaatttttttt'. Later, her mamta woke up again as I fell at her feet and said "Maaaaa mujhe maaf kar do".

I was in the cricket field. I was the pioneer batsmen in our colony and an exemplary bowler. So this one day, I was batting and showed my stupendous skills to the cheering girls. I raised an eyebrow everytime they cheered indicative of extreme confidence and as an acknowledgement of my famous reputation. The dead-tired bowler kept on bowling as he could not get me out and I kept on shooting the ball in all directions that existed. Then came this bouncer, but hooking it off my chest was childs play. But from somewhere out of the thin air, I don't know where, an old uncle placed himself in the trajectory of the ball. What was to happen is clear. Uncle hit the ball very hard and ceased the travelling-towards-the-bounry-with-all-its-might ball's motion. Skipping the middle portion, I shall tell you, there was again an echoing sound heard by the pitch, by the fielders and bowler, by the wickets and all such stuff. Do you know what that sound was ???? It was 'Chapaaaaaaatttttttt'. Later, I declared my innings over
No one could bowl me out.

Lesson:
There were about 503 more incidents like this. But lets try to learn from these 3. Okay, first of all, do you find something common in the three ?? Exactly! Chapaaat! So as life keeps giving us chapaats from to time, physical or virtual, Chapaat is the place where you can get to know or get yourself a chapaat.. And all this! For free!
So time you hear someone asking "Arre bhai! Yeh chapaat kis chidiya ka naam hai ??", open your hand wide and give him a perfect chapaat and speak out in amitabh bachpan style
"Yeh! Haan Haan Yeh! hai chapaat! Samjha!!! Haeen ??? "

General Stuff:
Obviously enough, chapaat v2.0 was not always v2.0. Earlier only Chapaat existed but I had deleted it by mistake through the settings page. Chapaat v1.0 had a completely different style and chapaat has changed a LOT. That is why I keep posting the old stuff sometimes. Though seldom.

There are many types of chapaats.
1.General Chapaat -> The very general chapaat we get out of our lives or keep giving people. They could be phyical or virtual.. Though the physical ones make a really nice sound. Try it our sometimes. Suppose A gives a chapaat to B, let us note the sound schemes...
A:"yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!" (try to gather force)
At contact, "Chapaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttttttttt" (A must not forget the follow-through for a perfect sound)
B:"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!" (Out of pain)
(Invented by nature)

2. Shabaashi Chapaat -> When a chapaat is necessary but you want to appreciate someone. (Thanks to dudreja, the discoverer) (Mostly given on the back... )

3.Affection Chapaat -> When you want to express affection but still want to convey your emotions using a chapaat. Kiss your hand and with the same hand give a general chapaat to the person. The best type of chapaat. (Thanks to me)

4.Healing chapaat, Acidic chapaat, and a million other types of chapaats which are being invented everyday by people like Sunrays.
__



There are people like Sayesha and Raddy (and maybe more) who have started call me chapaat.
"Oye chapaat! Kya haal hai tera ??"
There are people who read every chapaat (wow!) and people who haven't read even one. When I first entered the world of blogging I was called "Havami". Then I changed it to "Red Colored Green Monster". Then "Ze Chapaater". Then "Ze Exaggeratorr". But sorry to say, Ze Exaggeratorr kee to vaat lag chuki hai. Someone calls me Ze Exagg or maybe Ze Ex or Ze but some lethargic souls drop down to the level of calling me 'Z'. Waaah!

This was my 99th chapaat. Keep your eyes, ears, nose and mouth open for the century. (Dekha I told you na I was an awesome batsman!)

P.S. The stories were 99.3876387 (approx) % pure fiction and any resemblance with anyone living, dying or dead is coincidental. (Maybe)