Soliloquy unleashed

The unusual sojourn!!!

2011-01-15T08:13:00.000-08:00

Somehow I have always found it inappropriate to bore people with my travel escapades but can’t resist putting to words this exceptional experience. Now that you have decided to read through this post let me briefly do what I love doing the most- talk about myself (as a traveler this time). I am a man of very few words . Unlike many,I avoid striking conversations with co passengers . It feels good to just gaze out of the window thinking about my next blog J. And there is always a respite in the music of the collection of songs that I carry in my mobile. More so a notion has gotten into my head that women fall for men who speak less J . Not that I am always on the lookout , but trains are the most promising platforms to bump into some beauties. The idea gets strength from the numerous success stories that my friends have shared over a period of time. I haven’t met success yet but as they say “one should never lose hope”.

It happened when I boarded the train back to Mumbai from Ranchi after spending my vacations. After the emotional adieu that my mother had to offer (I ensured it to be a low key thing), in the hope of a rendezvous with some lovely work of art by the Almighty ,I scanned through the passenger list, hoping to defy my usual journey bad luck,eagerly looking for any signs of F 23-30 ( I have raised my age limitsJ) only to find a F8 and M9, F35,M38, M 48,M50, M60,F58…. There you go!! I knew how my journey was going to be. With a heavy heart I got myself seated and donned the usual “Angry Young Man” look. The recently grown “Sarkar Raj” style moustache finally touched up the look .Without making an attempt to exchange greetings with the co passengers I had my ear phone plugging me out from the outside noise of the stupid games that the kids were playing so joyfully. I am always intrigued what makes the kids do these stunts in the railway compartments. I never indulged in these activities as a kid. . And even if my brother and I tried to, a stare from my father was enough for us to get back to Chacha Chaudhary and Billu. “These new parents should know how to discipline their kids” I thought and tried giving an irritated look to the mother of the two who was busy picking out oil laden puris from the huge mountain of eatables she had packed for the entire family. “No use”I shrugged.

On the other side sat two middle aged men with pan masala stuffed up their mouths. They seemed to be engrossed in an animated conversation. I got curious and took the earplug out . Yes,my guess was right. It was the usual political discussion that had gotten both these gentlemen so charged up. People in this part of the country are never short of opinions. So one of these gentlemen had a word or two to offer to the Bihar CM. Poor Mr. Nitish, he missed those words of wisdomJ. Their conversation meandered from Nitish to Dhoni to Bipasha Basu and finally came down to the Mayor elections in Dhanbad.

Gentleman 1: “Are is baar Dhanbad k mayor elecsson me kisko bhot diye?? Srivastav ko ki Jhaji ko???

Gentleman 2: “ Aur kisko denge, apna jaat bhai ko diye hain….kaahe tum kisko diye??

Gentleman 1(with a smile): “Nechural hai” (It’s obvious, no need to ask)

I smiled. Don’t know why. Just when I was about to re plug myself to the wonderful world of music I exchanged glances with an old man who was constantly looking at me. I cursed myself for the immediate reaction of smiling to him. “Oh God, now I will have to talk to him and wear a plastic smile for atleast an hour”. He started with a normal “Kahan padhte ho beta”? And then what followed was a series of similar questions. By the time I was answering questions related to family his wife had joined the conversation. Thankfully they recognized the name of my college which was quite rare. Incidentally their elder son had passed out from the same college and was working with a multinational in Mumbai whom they were visiting. Surprisingly I survived the conversation much longer than I had expected and found it not that boring J Sensing the silence, I excused myself and climbed on to the upper berth. And then it was Sonu Nigam all the way J .

A sudden commotion woke me up to find that the old couple I had chatted with was in a heated argument with a few men. I leaned down to learn that the seat numbers had been reshuffled thanks to Lalu ji’s innovative idea of adding an extra seat on the side. So the original seat numbers got all jumbled up. One gentleman had carried out the math and taken the lead to put people at their new locations. The old man resisted and so the heated discussion. By the time I could grasp the matter; the men had started mishandling the old man and displaced his luggage. The old couple looked up at me; whereas all I could utter was ” Are bhaiya,buzurg hain…zara aaram se baat karo”. The old couple was displaced and all were settled in their new locations but the desperate look on the couple’s face started to haunt me. "I should have done something". I hated myself for the inaction.

Unusual things happen with Indian railways. The AC of the compartment stopped working. After numerous attempts to repair, the crew decided to shift the passengers to an empty coach in Nagpur. As I was getting down I saw the old couple struggling with their luggage. I bent down to lift his suitcase when the old man caught a glimpse of me. I could just manage an unconvincing smile...

Johaar Jharkhand!!!

2009-06-03T12:45:00.000-07:00

"Are bhai rukiye na,kaahe albalaye hue hain. ek ek k karke na milega tikatwa sabko" I could hear the ticket collector for the bus plying from Jamshedpur to Ranchi vent out his frustration as various 100 rupee notes tried to poke into his nose. I could not help but smile at the words ,the dialect ,the place. I knew I was back to the land I had started from. And for some reason it gave me an innate sense of relief. So I went ahead and shamelessly joined the crowd in poking a 100 rupee note into the ticket collector's nose."Ek ticket idhar dena bhaiya; Aage ka seat dena". For the moment I had forgotten the more civilised method of getting things done by queing up or the luxuries of online reservation system I was so used to.I knew my land and how to get things done here. This 'poking the 'thing' into the nose' tactic was ingeniuosly brought to use by us in college days when we had to get our "NO DUES" done before every semester. When there are hundreds of hands in competition ,you are in with your best chances when you poke it straight into the nose of the collector.Somehow my trick didnot seem to be working here and I could only manage the ticket to the last seat. Feeling utterly guilty and ashamed of my failure to get myself an AAGE WAALA SEAT I made way through the congested pathway of the bus to the much dreaded sweat invoking last seat of the bus. With tobacco chewing people seated on both sides I knew my journey was going to be exciting!!!
The bus moved on and so did my train of thoughts. I was still not able to get over my disastrous performance at the ticket collector's. I tried to console myself that it was Darwin's theory of SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST at work but the fact that I was not the fittest was difficult to gulp down. And as the bus tried to inch out of the ever slow traffic of Jamshdpur my frustration knew no limits. It was only after about half n hour when the bus moved out of the crowded city into the highway and I could breathe in some fresh air that I began to calm down and then the rational me took charge. I tried to reason out my frustration on a petty issue like this. Very soon the reality struck me hard.I realised that I have been groomed this way to fight my way to the top. So the frustration was inevitable.Interestingly majority of the people in my state have been groomed the same way. And that is the reason you seldom see a queue lined up.Even if there is one ,there are some smart souls who will never find time for these mundane queuing up activity. Getting the things done in the minimum time is a matter of pride for people out here. And here is a state where you will find more BAAHUBALIS than civilians. I had one such encounter when our bus was stopped by his acolytes for about 10 mins because some netaji was about to do I dont know what. There was immense confusion over the issue but what infuriated my senses was the manner in which the gunmen kept the bus with 60 people stranded and the way these bastards lionized the local netaji. When our intrigued conductor seeked permission to move on he got the reply "Are kaahe bahas karte ho re,bole na bhaiya ji aa rahe hain". Welcome to Jharkhand.
I thought hard. Over the pysche of the people of my state. I wanted to get to the evolution of such a clan of domineering inhabitants of which I was very much a part.What I could derive was that the people here are groomed this way-to bully their way upto the top grabbing the thing before anyone else does. And what we see and observe is the outcome of this very mindset.And that is the exact reason why we Biharis have earned the ill fame of involving in many of the unruly acts all over the country. One would argue that this happens to be the story of the entire nation and I would not like to refute this line of argument but what troubles me immensely that this "Haq maanga nahi cheena jaata hai" sydrome has affected Jharkhand(or erstwhile Bihar) the most.When I delved deep into my reasoning I find an answer to that. The answer is scarcity. Yes there has always been scarcity of resources.There has been scarcity of water so you find people fighting over community hand pumps. There has been scarcity of berths in trains so you find people fighting over tickets. There has been scarcity of education so you find students competing hard for a few berths in a very few good institutes.The survival of the fittest has to take place where there is scarcity of resources. Yes this is precise reason of the behaviour of my statemates. Then who is to be blamed. Once again I cant resist pointing fingers to the governments which have been in power whose ministers have amassed immense personal wealth but didnot have an iota of time to attend to the needs of the common man. Its the politicians who have turned my state into a vicious food chain where one has to feed over the others to survive.
I got down at Ranchi and had a swarm of auto rickshaw drivers vying for my attention at the bus stand. There was mayhem at the autorickshaw stand as they saw the customer in me coming. There were skirmishes and the milieu wore a modicum of sobriety only when I decided to seat myself into one. On my way I could hear the autorickshaw driver abuse the poor rickshaw wallahs who by mistake have strayed on their way.These incidents did nothing but reaffirmed my reasoning I had carried out on the bus.I reached home. My father almost simultaneously entered the gate. I saw a ticket in his hand and a smile on his face. I knew what was it for. My father never queues up.:)

My Tryst with eggs!!!

2009-04-07T04:09:00.000-07:00

Scene I, Ranchi: “Promise me , You’ll have two boiled eggs everyday for breakfast before leaving for the plant.” My mother was virtually in tears as she stuffed my travel bag with almost everything edible she could find. On earlier occasions I would audit the packing she would carry out religiously and do away with superfluous eatables.” Less luggage, more comfort” I am a firm believer…Unfortunately my mother isn’t. This time she was not even ready to let me have a look, leave alone the screening. And she had reasons strong enough. I was leaving for Pune after two months of medical leave at home and somehow the doctor had managed to convince my parents that the reason for my prolonged ailment was my carelessness towards diet. So I had been through long sessions on what to eat ,how to cook etc. Unfortunately this time around my mother had the support of everyone else in the family. And I had to abide by.

Scene II, Pune: Day-Thursday, Time:11 am. I am off my bed wandering in my apartment to find my roommates cosily scattered on the bed. I was missing the juice, an apple, some dry fruits, a glass of milk and neatly buttered bread along with some eggs which would be beautifully laid down in front me as soon as I was off the bed. The doctor’s words echoed in my ears “Eat high protein diet and don’t skip a meal” I went down to the grocery bringing back some eggs and a packet of bread. I was determined not to starve myself to ailment again. I was sick of lying on the bed with thermometer stuck up my throat. I started off with boiling the eggs which was the easiest thing to do according to my mother. You just have to put some water and two eggs in a boiling pan and put it on the heater and wait till the eggs boil. Sounds simple-I had thought then. I followed my mother’s instructions and after putting up the pan on the heater I went on to watch some news showing Shri Ram Sene sainiks beating up girls in the pub in Mangalore. The gory images and the stark immorality of the so called moral police had me stuck to the idiot box a little longer. The eggs by the time were beginning to send signals by spilling hot water almost everywhere and I had to rush to the kitchen to pacify them. Buttering the bread was not that difficult and I sat on the sofa with the bread and boiled eggs to get a hang of what was happening in Mangalore. To sit for a breakfast prepared entirely by oneself is indeed a great satisfaction. Alas….the feeling was short-lived. I peeled off the outer shell of the eggs only to find a pulpy interior and when I cut open the eggs into halves my disappointment knew no limits. I was shattered. The egg was far from boiled and all I could do was stare at the yellow yolk flowing out soaking my neatly buttered bread. I remembered how I used to demand for another set of eggs to be boiled for me if I found even a tinge of unboiledness and how easily my mother would oblige. I was beginning to miss my mother. Recovering from the egg fiasco I decided to put some milk into my system. This time I wont hurry. I had decided. I left the milk to be boiled and got myself glued to the Mangalore debacle again. And by the time I recalled that I had an appointment in the kitchen, it was too late. All I was left with was a burnt finger and milk spilled all over the place to be cleaned up. My first attempts with cooking had met with a disastrous fate.

It was 12.30 and I was feeling miserably hungry. I had lost every little hope that I had with my cooking acumen. I rushed to Chaya Parantha House ordering “Ek chicken masala aur rice”. As I ravaged on the delicacies I pondered over the answers I would be giving to my mother’s incessant questioning. The inevitable had happened. My phone rang and it was my mother. “How are you? Are you having proper diet? Did you boil the eggs for yourself? Did you have milk for your breakfast? Did you weigh yourself? How much weight have you put on? Are you having fruits along with milk and eggs? “ She was firing questions. My first instinct was to narrate the kitchen ordeal to her. But then I chose to be my natural self and just answered her questions with a nod and an unconvincing YES. I just hope that the girl I am married to is not as bad a cook as I am. I am amazed at the genuine attempts I have made. And you call me a chauvinist….Not fair..;)

A page from an Automobile Engineer's Diary

2009-02-04T03:18:00.000-08:00

“Hmm”….The doctor gave a gentle nod as he scanned the anatomy of my lungs which lay glowing in front of him thanks to William Roentgen. I looked on helplessly as a student dreading to hear the word “FAIL” from his class teacher. The doctor put down the spectacles on the table and began – “Seems you have been enjoying your freedom over here too much, too much of smoking and drinking going on?” I was caught unaware at such a stark remark but then the Hindi film dialogue echoed in my ears “You should never lie to your doctor and lawyer”. I confessed sheepishly and the doctor carried on. “You have asthmic bronchitis and you need to quit smoking immediately. I am writing you some medicines. Have them for a week and then we will meet to see the improvement.” I nodded gently and as I started to open the door the doctor intervened with his fat finger wagging at me “Remember, NO SMOKING”.

“Yeah Yeah NO SMOKING “ I tried to imitate, much to the surprise of the secretary who sat outside for the bill to be paid much like an alligator stretching its mouth waiting for its prey. As I rode back I thought about the disease I was carrying with me at 60 kmph. BROCHITIS- The word was enough to produce numerous images in my nerve cells –the most prominent one being coughing myself to death. The thought made me shiver as I lamented every puff of cigarette that I have so proudly inhaled. Collecting the medicines from the chemist’s store I went back to the room and after struggling with the tablets and expectorants prepared myself for the bed.

The mobile alarm is adamant on waking me off the bed and after a few tantrums I succumb to the irritating alarm tone. I get ready for the office coughing intermittently in between cursing everyone under the sun. It’s 8:30. I am into the office premises swiping my identity card and logging on to my computer. I scan the e mails in my inbox. “200 components of Gear Shift Lever Knob rejected” I read the message. Almost simultaneously my boss calls me up: “Aashutosh, There has been some issue on the line of your component. What about it?” I have no answer. Meekly I trouble my vocal chords to utter” I haven’t seen it yet, sir. I’ll get back with the analysis to you.” “You better do and do it fast…….Bang” came the prompt reply. Then for the next 4 hrs I keep on running throughout the premises of my company, on the assembly line, making calls to the suppliers and then finally sit down on my desk for the most dreaded job I have on hand-Analyse the drawing. I just hate these engineering drawings. I know this is blasphemy but I cannot help but curse the day I chose to get into the Mechanical stream of engineering. The icing on the cake has been the automobile company job. “Who the hell has designed this component? Why couldn’t he make a simple one.” I am virtually in tears trying to create a 3-D picture of the gear shift lever from the maze of straight lines and curves I held in my hand. I give up and make way for my boss’s cabin hoping that he is busy with some other work and will call me afterwards which would never come;). “May I come in ,Sir? A nod. I make way into the chamber coughing and laying the huge expanse of the drawing in front of him I prepare myself for the assault. During the next hour he goes through every negative expressions one can imagine. Anger,frustration,disgust…I am running short of adverbs …pardon my vocabulary. He tricks me into various technical jargons. “ Can you draw for me the schematic diagram of centreless grinding” The words sounded familiar to me. My innocuous brain goes in flashback. I strain my brain cells to retrieve images of the bygone “Manufacturing Process” lectures. ”No image found”…pat comes the reply. Of course….I never had the privilege to attend those lectures. I curse myself for bunking classes for the first time. An expression of blankness conveys my answer to him and he loses the little hope he had from a freshly passed out engineering graduate. After one hour of humiliation I head to infuse some caffeine into my system and then motivated by the recent failures I sit down on my desk. “Centreless grinding” I type into the google search bar. Eerie images of big machines followed by prolix description flash in front of my eyes and I am finally led into a yawn. I am not made for this kind of a job. Manufacturing is not the field for me. I pass the verdict and the hooter blows. Its time to pack up. I log off and within minutes find myself ordering to our Anna. “ Ek chai aur ek Classic dena” ….Suddenly the doctor’s fat finger comes wagging at me….”Sirf chai dena”.

I am in my room coughing my heart out and now I sit down with the TIME mock papers. Yes you got it right. I aspire to join a B school. So I cram a few puzzles, solve a few questions of number system and geometry,some sentence corrections and then I am off to the Chhaya parantha house for the dinner. “Ek paneer aur ek aloo ka parantha” I order and sit back ,hands itching to have the white thing but self restraint persists. At least for today. I look at a young couple (not married) sipping juice from a single glass. “Idiots , I shall never do this” and by the time I meandered into my world of thoughts as to how I would never display affection in public,our Dada comes with the order. It’s 11.00 and yet again I am off to bed consoling myself that things will change soon and I ll be out of this life of machines and drawings to a comfortable world of numbers and strategies. Deep down I have doubts though. “ Mirchi sunne waale always khush “ the over enthusiastic RJ helps me run away from life . And I am in my dreams not knowing what lies ahead in the world of machines for me.

Three Promises

2009-01-13T02:53:00.000-08:00

"How do you feel and do you have any mesagge for the other students"? Aashish found himself surrounded by reporters all over. " I owe my success to God,my parents and my hardwork", he had come up with the cliche' answer. " And my message to all the students preparing for......" "Aashish..Aashish".There was a violent shake of his shoulders. He opened his eyes and found his father waking him up vehemently." Check your IITJEE results. They are out".He got up rubbing his eyes and it didnt take him long to realise it was the D-Day. Yes,the results would have been out. He jumped on to the computer and after spending around half an hour got through the jammed website. His nervous fingers fed the roll no. only to find the message" SORRY YOUR NAME DOES NOT MATCH OUR LIST OF QUALIFIED STUDENTS". He sat there staring at the screen reminiscing of the 2 years he had put in the preparation of this coveted undergraduate exam. The message was clear -" You are not among the BEST brains of India,go for some other GOOD colleges out there". Hard to digest as it was for him for he always had this illusion that he was among the brightest of his school and deserved a berth in this mecca of technical education. Moving on with this newly discovered fact about himself he took admission in a good engineering college of his hometown. He had never thought during his two years of preparation that he will land up in this place.

1st day of college in the hostel: He was standing in a clumsy,stinking room full of smoke, staring the ground beneath with two more of his batchmates whose names were not known to him. And on the bed sat a huge group of 2nd year students who were having a feast on the "Murgas". "Abe Ma*****od....tere ko bola na intro dene" The words startled him. He looked up...SLAP!!! " Ghoorta kya hai Be*****od". He was not new to these exclamations but their use was banned in the school gang he was part of. You were not supposed to bring mothers and sisters into this. This was new to him. Later during his traumatic hour long session he realised that these exclamations found unrestricted usage among the seniors. He was baffled. This was certainly not the place where he was supposed to be. From that room they were referred to another room full of seniors and then to another. Finally when he reached his room it was 1 o'clock in the morning. Lying on his bed he thought about the moral degradation of the youth and found himself a complete misfit to this world of engineers. His regrets for not getting into the IITs grew stronger. Later, he came to realise that the scenario was same even in the IITs. But for now, he was disturbed. His roommate who had done rounds of the senior hostel rooms with him broke the silence. "Don't take those abuses personally,everything is technical here. Your senior girls are your technical mothers and your batchmates are your technical sisters". He was amused at this new definition. He smiled at his roommate. Though he had vowed that he will never degrade himself to such levels.

The morning began with a long line in the bathroom. Standing in the queue he cursed himself " What the f*** , I crammed for 2 years only to land up in this shit". Somehow he got through the morning rush but only to catch the 2nd class. His bunking had started from the first day itself. Not by choice though. Days passed by. He attended the classes during the daytime and entertained the seniors in the evening. During one of his ragging sessions he was forced to smoke and was let free only when some moderate seniors saw tears in his eyes. He hated smoke and smokers. Finally the mid sem dates were out and Aashish took it as an opprtunity to restore his lost self confidence. God was kind this time and he topped the batch with maximum marks. His name started to do rounds of the batch. People would come up and greet him "You are the one who topped the mid sems?" It was then he realised how much fame meant to him. He almost lost all the regrets he had been nursing till now. He had started to discover the real Aashish who craved for attention. He was used to that in his school and a sudden slide into oblivion had disturbed him immensely. Now that he had proved his mettle again , he began to enjoy the college life. The ragging also had ceased and now the freshers could flaunt jeans and T shirts which was prohibited earlier. The girls too had come out of their salwar kurta-two plaits mode and now the real figures were beginning to be flaunted. College was much greener now. Being a Mechie he neither had the opportunity nor the courage to talk to a girl.The first year passed off with his results being just above average. But he had made his mark and his name was there to stay.

3rd year students throw freshers party to the 2nd year students of respective branches. Mechanical party was notorious in many ways. With no girls around, the guys were at their natural best rather than impressing them.Every prohibition in the civilised world would be ceremoniously carried out here,be it cigarettes,drugs,booze or for that matter even adult films. By now Aashish was quite familiar with these ways of celebrating bachelorhood but he was yet to endorse the practices which he considered morally degraded. He had vowed to himself in the 1st year that he would never use "technical language" , never smoke, never drink. Today one of these promises would be broken. Let's see.

The seniors welcomed them with utmost warmth and after the formal inauguration and lighting of lamps when the teachers were gone the real party had begun. Carats of cigarettes were taken out. Within minutes the room was filled with smoke.He still stuck to his vows. It was then that he caught sight of one of his revered seniors who was known for his intellect and was hailed as one of the brightest brains of the batch. Surprisingly the white thing looked "cool" in his hand and his charm was magnified. And then a friend of him came with a puff in his hand. He asked surprisingly" How come you are smoking? You never smoke." He slid the cigarette into Aashish's mouth and said " Come on ek puff maar, aaj k din sab chalta hai. Everyone is smoking". He did not resist. He never knew why he didn't. He coughed and removed the thing at once. "No,I can't". After almost an hour he asked his friend for another puff and then another. Perhaps the background score of "BC Sutta" was doing the trick.His friend gave him the entire cigarette. He held it with style in his hand and for the first time he enjoyed being BAD.

Mechanical guys were known for their carefree attitude and mental and physcial toughness. Now that he had taken the first step he was quite enthused to take the ride. So he accompanied his friends to the RMC. A gang of girls passed by. And there was mayhem. Comments began to flow. Lewd and vulgar as they were he never thought he would enjoy being a part of the gang. Though when left to encounter a girl alone a Mechie would shiver to death but when you have a gang behind you ,you can take on any gang of girls.[:)]. So his image began to change. Girls were beginnig to talk about his group being the most notorious and troublesome. To his surprise he was enjoying this new incarnation of his.

His room door banged open." Chal be,Class nahi jaana" . Not removing his eyes from the computer game he had been playing all night he said" Nahi yaar,mera proxy laga dena.Us Ma*****od ka class nahi karna mere ko" . He left the room,but Aashish was astonished at what he had just said. Yet another promise broken. He thought for a while,shook his head and resumed the game. Things which mattered to him so much had managed just a minute of reflection and a shake of head. He had changed or at least it was the beginning.

Placement time(Final Year) : There was anxiety in the air, even the carefree mechanical brats were found in their rooms mugging up the Automobile Engineering books. Some were found improving their soft skills in the informal GD sessions. Previous year question papers of various companies thronged the rooms and the hostel lobby flung into action only at the time of lunch or dinner. Aashish knew this was the time to get serious. He got engrossed in the preparations. Finally the first company had come.It was the best for Mechanical and he knew he had to get through. As he moved out of the interview room he chuckled. He knew he had done it. And yes he had done it. The names were out and he was being greeted by everyone around. Friends had lifted him up and cheered him to the RMC. At the RMC he lit a cigarette ,lifted his head and exhaled the smoke into the sky with pride as if declaring to the girls" Look the hooligan has bagged the first job of the college". He had lived for this moment of fame. By now he had realised how much he craved for fame,stardom and attention which has eluded him throughout his life. He wanted to live this moment of success to the fullest.

It was party time. A grand party was thrown at the Madhuban-The Mecca for BITians. Drinks were served and when his friend offered him one he didn't resist. He didn' know why and he never thought about it. Next day when he woke up rubbing his eyes he felt his head in a dizzy. The hangover was there. He came to know that he behaved like a drunken dog yesterday night and it took four of them to bring him to the bed.He went to the wash basin and stared into the mirror. " Was this the same Aashish?" Red eyes stared into him from the mirror as if searching for the real Aashish. "F*** it; I don't give a damn. What's the use of being so good. I have got nothing but failure."

Last day of the college: He swung the bag on his shoulders and stood in front of the main building of the college.This was the college he never wanted to be in,yet he had spent 4 years here and this college had completely transformed him. And this is where his THREE promises were broken...

India is my country and all Indians r my brothers n sisters?????

2008-05-26T12:00:00.000-07:00

One morning, as I bent down to collect the newspaper my eyes rolled over a bizzare headline. I remained still and gazed at the line.It had a famous political leader of Maharashtra blaming the people of Bihar and U.P of spoiling the local culture. He also slammed festivals like Chath and wanted every one in Maharashtra to speak Marathi if they wanted to stay. I was still bent over and by the time I retained the Post Neantherdal Homo Sapiens posture I had gone though the whole story. And I smiled.....Yes I smiled. Though the news should have worried me, me being from Bihar and putting up in Pune, it could hardly trouble me.As I ushered myself under the shower I found myself murmuring "What do they think of us? They think they can still do this? Inciting one group of people against others on lingual and communal lines. Gone are those days.Our dear Mr. Politician has infallibly made a fool of himself and he was sure to lose any political ground he had aspired to acquire."...Perhaps the internet savvy and consumerism driven image of Indian youth in my mind had made me think on optimistic lines. Later I was to realise how wrong I was.

For the time being, I buried myself in the daily chores of the office and almost lost touch with our ostentatious orator. But I could feel his presence being zoomed every day, his speech finding way into the headline almost every day. He was surely gaining strength,thanks to our media. And as he rallied along with his venomous speeches and incredible demands, the state got prepared for the final blow. He came out with insulting remarks for Amitabh Bachchan. You dont do that. Not in India. You can abuse Gods in India and get away with the blasphemy. But you darenot speak against Sachin Tendulkar and Mr. Bachchan. I was almost sure of an outburst from the migrants of U.P(Amitabh belongs to U.P) and was surprised to find that the next few days went by peacefully.Perhaps they were too scared to do anything.

But the inevitable had come. One morning, the headlines again caught my attention. The front page flaunted pictures of dishevelled migrants from Bihar and U.P fleeing the state in large no.s in trains. As I scrolled down the paper,I came across pictures of Bihari auto rickshaw drivers being beaten up. The situation was tense. My mobile rang up. I I answered and found my mother talking frantically on the other side. She was scared and was asking me to be careful. I told her that the situation is not that tense as it is being shown and that I was SAFE.. I somehow lacked the conviction in my voice which my mother seeked...She could sense that. You cannot fool mothers.

As I hustled my way through the fast moving morning traffic the thought came to my mind. "Am I Safe"???? What the F***....They can't do this to me. This is my country. I can live anywhere I want to. I had been friends with many of my colleagues who were Marathi and they never let me feel alien to this land. The thought sobered me down a bit as I managed to avoid an early morning clash with a cycle. "Dekh k chalao,yaar" ...and I sped past him.In my office I found everything normal except a hiatus in the supply of the material which was supposed to be inside our premises a day before. When I got to the crux of the matter, I found our Mr. Politician had a role to play over here too. The supplier pleaded that the supply of the auto parts he was supposed to deliver was held up because all the workers who worked for him had fled the place,thanks to our leader.
I shrugged my shoulder in despair. This affair was beginning to affect the biggest automobile company of India. Someone walk up to Mr. Politician and let him know that.

I finished office and rushed to our favorite hangout. "Anna, ek chai laana" I called out. "Aaj chai nahi milega,band ho raha hai dukaan" I could see him folding up for tha day in haste. I enquired and discovered that the area had seen some hideous burnouts following the rumours of arrest of the leader.And soon curfew can be imposed. I rushed into a general store to get some Maggi,anticipating that the curfew may last a few days.As I was discussing the scenario with a friend of mine, the grocer who I knew was a Marathi intervened and sort of concluded our discussion." Pet ke saamne koi dharm aur bhasha nahi chalta"...he said with a stoic expression on his face.I looked into his face and realised that the politician never had the masses with him. I was right. It was just a group of acolytes that had made him look like a leader with a great following.

Fortunately, the curfew lasted for a few hours only and as days passed by the matter went into oblivion only to be brought up by our politician when he felt the need to gain some political ground. I got busy with my work just as my countrymen got in theirs. The issue had taken a backstage when one morning I again had a rendezvous with our 'speaker-of-my-mind" leader. This time he demanded a reservation for the Marathi locals in private companies. This time I could hardly smile.

Love is not for me!!!

2008-04-26T03:11:00.000-07:00

Love is not for me. Yeah…… This is no Devdas telling his heart melting story. Neither is he a DCH fame Aamir Khan’s fan who would not let love happen to him. It’s just that the fact keeps coming back to haunt me that I am not Cupid’s favourite.

I loved it when SRK said in DDLJ…”Is duniya me itni saari ladkiyan hai, kisi ke hoth achche hian to kisi ki aankein….kisi k baal achche hain..to kisi ke…..” So true. And that’s my problem. I do not know who the one for me is. Well for now let me share my observations which I have been consistently making throughout my college life. Yes, I observed my friends who would spend sleepless nights on phone. I also betrayed sleep, but had plenty of other interesting things to do in hostel than to hibernate into a gloomy corner of the hostel lobby and whisper like a mouse. Yes that’s my problem. I can think of umpteen ways to pass away idle time than ring up a girl and recite to her my daily chores as if she was my boss. I always wondered when I saw my friends huddled into corners as to “What do you talk to a girl about”. That’s a big question, mind you. It’s not a simple boy to boy conversation where you can include the wildest of topics into your conversation. And moreover being an Engineering student I find it difficult to put a check on my ever deteriorating language….I once asked my friend “How do you manage to be so polished for so long?”…So that’s also a problem with me….Girls like gentlemen and I am far from being that.

Now, something which can alienate a lot of my female friends and feminist ones, to be more specific. It’s about sense of humor. Sometimes I wonder what can make girls not laugh. They will laugh at the poorest of your jokes which you would never share in your boys’ group for the fear of being lampooned. That's still fine. But the sad part is that they expect you to giggle at the most pathetic jokes of theirs. God…Again I love SRK when he says “God…… I …I just hate girls”. Ok no more bitching about girls. I was telling you about my problems. I can’t spend hours on phone reporting to her about the thing which I did the whole day. I can’t be polite and chivalrous. I find it difficult to laugh at their genuine attempts to humor. Is that all?? No, I have a long list of problems that has finally convinced me to believe that I shall remain sans love.

I observed during my college days that guys who had girlfriends could hardly devote time towards their boys’ group. Many a times I have seen guys opting out of a booze night-out party because they had to report to their girls at the stroke of midnight hour. (Don’t get me wrong, I was talking about calling up their girls when the rest of their group members are on a high). So girls want commitment from boys. No harm in this. Any relationship needs commitment to survive. And there goes another problem. I prefer to be in a group of dwellers from Mars than to roam around hand in hand with an angel from Venus.
Roam around??? Aha…That’s not so easy. When you have numerous licentious eyes gazing at you and gauging your girl’s assets you would definitely want your eyes to be one of them rather than helplessly staring the ground beneath. So in a way I salute the men who could muster the courage to walk around in the college putting the lustful gazes and lewd comments behind them. I can’t do that.

There are some minor things like buying her a gift every now and then….taking her out for a movie and watching it like a gentleman. I don’t remember a single movie with my hooligan friends when I had not whistled and hooted. And the poor guys and girls who had come together on a so called date stared at us, girls with disgust and the guys with envy. So I hereby solemnly conclude that forget about love in the air, even if the air is laden with thick clouds of love, I shall stand dry. Not by choice though.

I ll be the one......

2008-01-03T20:56:00.000-08:00

“ Saare jahan se achcha Hindustan hamara” …The syllables had floated into his room through the open window. His eyes opened in a start to check his mobile for the time. He was about to leave the bed in a haste to get ready for the office when suddenly he remembered ….today was 15th of August….The Independence Day. Today was the national holiday. He thanked God…took out a Marlboro from the packet that had only two to offer….lit it n moved towards the balcony. The sun stared helplessly at him as a black thick cloud began to vanquish it….His shadow on the balcony wall began to fade n soon the sun was surrendered into submission..

He leaned on the balcony railing,inhaled a long puff n enjoyed the spirit of patriotism that was beginning to overpower him…This happened only twice a year for him. He wondered if all his countrymen underwent the same pump of adrenaline when they saw the tricolor wave in the sky n the melodious notes of songs floating about. He remembered the school and college days when he used to participate in the parade. He remembered the emotions that would stir up when he would stand in parade, with his chest broadened to the tunes of the National Anthem. He wished he had been in the army.

This was his first Independence Day in Pune. He had joined a reputed automobile company after completing his engineering, just a month ago. He had looked forward to his stay in Pune, the city famous for its glamorous and bubbly crowd. Yesterday evening he had been to F.C Road, one of the most happening places of Pune bustling with young college crowd….So he ,coming from a not so modern and young city of Jharkhand had high hopes to get to know how the so called metropolitan youth of India behaved…He could not fail to admire the young and beautiful faces[;)] , but somehow he felt uncomfortable in this environment. The way boys n girls dressed ,talked and moved about….Something worried him. .This was what he had gone there for….to steal a few glimpses of beautiful girls placed cosily in their boyfreinds’ arms…to stare at some pretty faces….But when he actually got to see …he was offered with more than what he had expected…He had seen girls smoking and boozing with utmost ease that would have put the dreaded dopers of his college to shame…Feminists who believed in equality can advocate that if society can accept a man smoking then why not a girl…He had no answer to it….This line of opinion was indeed genuine and justified…But he somehow got the feeling that the actions of the youth of India can be described more as aping the so called developed and modern societies rather than moving towards the real liberalisation and modernization….We have overlooked the social structure that India has and blindly aped the living style of the West…without even thinking if our society is prepared for the change.

This aping psyche has long been the trait of Indians…We have always been awed by the prosperity that developed nations boast of….Indians have always been fascinated with anything foreign and imported…be it a car, a perfume or even a t shirt….This psyche has not spared even the brightest minds of India…He recalled how many friends of his college and other good ones had only one motive throughout their studies…to flee this land which gives you nothing but a meager salary n lots of frustration to deal with… He remembered how vehemently they would voice and defend their opinion…Their favorite point of offence would be at the way politics operates in India…The way corruption has made inroads into every facet of the beauracracy…He had never come across a youth who had the ambition to join politics..Even if he had it was for other obvious reasons, not for the cause of the country….He remembered how he used to be a silent listener to these strong lines of defence that his friends had built by letting open a fierce attack on virtually everything that India had under the sun.
He strongly believed that culture is a very relative term. What the Indians may consider as obscene and indecent might be a casual way of life in the West..So he never indulged in the braggadocio that his friends would carry out about the Indian culture being the best in the world…etc etc…He only believed that the culture which has evolved over years could not be and need not be changed just because we want to be standing in the line of developed nations and so we need to do what people over there do. The best way out would be to zero in on the flaws of our traditions and work towards their eradication , so that we as a nation can create our own identity. That is what he wanted to see the Indian youth doing.
That day when he had returned back from F.C Road he lay down on his bed…eyes fixed on the ceiling fan which monotonously stared at him and he thought…for the first time…he thought about his life..about his ambition….about his country. He could have very easily blamed the politicians of India for leading the country into deep pits as most people had been doing. But then the bunch of politicians represent the choice that people of India have. If they enjoy so much popularity that they can win elections year after year then it is the people of India who are to be blamed…The mentality needs to change…That was a major flaw in the society and he wanted the youth to come forward to take on this menace, to present before the people an alternative that they cannot afford to refuse. So he would join politics.

Seconds later his determination was beginning to shake…Politics today was not an easy job…he realized that…one can easily lose his life in an attempt towards the catharsis of this vast marsh that has set in on Indian society…Scenes of his wailing mother, his silent father, his grieved family and friends flashed before his eyes…He turned his eyes away from the ceiling in terror…He was afraid of death…He could not gift his family sorrow of a lifetime…he was in a deep fix…he closed his eyes for some respite and had fallen asleep.

Suddenly his hands had started to feel a burning sensation and he looked down to realize that the Marlboro had been incensed to the butt and was about to do same to his fingers…he hurriedly dropped the butt , it sailed in the wind and after a few moments rested on the wet grass. The flame slowly began diminishing and finally the cold droplets of water had conquered it leaving out smoke…He had been watching this trivial event from above..and suddenly……something struck him…..A single flame cannot ignite the rain draped grass but the vice versa had been made possible…the flame was put off….He looked above at the sun…it was beginning to come out from the dark thick cloud …soon the grass would dry up in the sun and be ready to be ignited (definitely not by a cigarette butt)…..He wondered what would come to his rescue to ignite his countrymen’s minds draped with hackneyed mentality…He thought what could be the sun of his life….Money….may be ….for that he will have to wait….He shall wait.

Chillad Party

2007-06-17T09:25:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This blog is purely dedicated to the Party Gang of BIT. If it dsiappoints anyone in any way then accpet my apologies.

It was drizzling in Ranchi. In front of the CCD stood a group of fresh BIT passouts. This was perhaps the last time they had gathered together. Together they had earned a repute of the “Deadly Party Gang “of BIT. They needed no reason to party. This time though, they had a valid enough reason to party. Two of their members (Akash and I) were supposed to throw their joint birthday parties and the members had all the plans to make the party the biggest and the grandest ever. Incidentally it was the birthday of one of the integral members of the group who had joined Tata Power Company in Mumbai and so could not be there. So the party was a kind of tribute to Nawneet-the birthday boy.

As all of us gathered the real discussion began. You might wonder what do you discuss before a party. Well this is how the Party Gang works. A lot of things are discussed and arguments are put forth and finally a decision is arrived at as to” what should be the budget of the party?”, “how much should the hosts contribute?” where should be the venue of the party?” and so on. Finally it was decided unanimously that since this was the last party of the gang it should be at the best restaurant of Ranchi. A contribution of Rs.750 each was fixed for the hosts. A bill excess of that would be taken care of by the guests. So the Gang moved into one of the best restaurants of Ranchi-The Yellow Sapphire. As they settled in, they could only marvel the grandeur of the ambience. It was time to decide for the starters. The names of the dishes were meant more to be tongue twisters. Anyhow finally Ravi, the planner decided on Tangdi Gulistaan which meant chicken kawab. The ever meek and silent Chams saw this as an opportunity to draw levels with Akash who had been highly prodigal with his orders in Green Acres when Chams had treated us. So a chicken sweet corn soup was ordered. Anunay and Akash had just returned from a party from Madhuvan, so they were not in the mood for main course. They had 2 milkshakes with butter scotch ice cream to order. As the five of us (Imran, Ravi, Chams, Prashant and I) waited anxiously for the orders and discussed on what should be an apt main course, the other four skipped to have to have a quick puff.

The starters had come. The chutney which accompanied the Tangdi Gulistaan had done more rounds than required and consequentially I and Anunay had to suffice with a drop or two of the chutney. Akash is known for looking only on the right side of the menu card and choose the most expensive of the items to be ordered. I always wondered what a stylish man this chap is when he would announce to the waiter, dishes unheard to all of us. It was now that I knew that most of the times he experimented with the dishes and was himself as unaware of the dishes as we all were. So again it was Akash ordering for an Ocean’s Fantasy. Mystery prevailed until the beautifully garnished goblet of Ocean’s Fantasy arrived. As soon as the waiter disappeared from the scene it was mayhem. Spoons began to dash from all the sides and now I could guess why it was named Ocean’s Fantasy. It was supposed to replicate the effect of the Tsunami. It did not even take seconds for the dish to be disappeared. The waiter had seen us doing what we all were so used to but was unusual for him. So the next time he had brought two milkshakes he brought more than 9 drinking straws with him and smiled at us as if asking us to attack. The smile had failed to embarrass us and we continued with the sharing business.

Ravi and Khan Sahab (Imran) carried on a long discussion on the main course and finally agreed on Murg Tikka Lawabdar, Murg Reshmi Masala and Chiken Tangri Chilli.A Mushroom do Pyaza was ordered for the veggies. For your information I and Chams are veggies who had turned non veggies that day. So a mushroom item was ordered in case we did not endorse our newly found passion for chicken till the last moment. We waited eagerly for the food now. Meanwhile the favorite target of our Gang Chams was taken care of by all of us. Saurabh (Maadu) was at his usual best dropping points for us to pounce on Chams. Surprisingly Chams had smiled at all the bantering that was going on. He was in for something big. No one knew today he was in to create history. Prashant as usual laughed at every comment and chipped in with a few in between. The food had come. Mushroom Do Pyaza found its way to mine and Chams’s plate. My plate knew no signs of Chicken till the end. But not for Chams. As the chicken items were served an expression of astonishment spread over our faces. Was this main course or the chutney??? The meager amount of chicken had left us all speechless and finally we all broke into fits of laughter leaving the waiter wonder over our mental status. Then Kunal came into action. He repeated the order for chicken and convinced the group to remain prepared for a handsome contribution. Meanwhile Chams’s plate had seen all the dishes of chicken as well as mushroom. He was always mocked upon by all of us as who would pay more and eat less. Have you seen someone pay Rs.1500 for having a plate of Paneer Butter Masala? Meet our dear Chams. But not today. Today he had consumed more than he had to contribute. The last party had seen the best of Chams. I as a good host refused the entire chicken item making sure that Kunal and Maadu get ample of chicken chutney to gulp the Nan with. A host could not afford to let Kunal be unsatisfied. [:D] After the main course it was time for the desserts and it was unanimously decided that milk shake would be a befitting end to this grand party. As the shake was being prepared we went out for a puff and placed ourselves on the cosy sofa outside Yellow Sapphire which was announced by the waiter as a NO SMOKING ZONE. It was then the birthday boy and Uncle (Tata Power) had called up and after we had hung up the phone we had decided that we need to dedicate something to the birthday boy. Kunal came up with the idea of putting up a blog for this party so that those who missed this can feel connected. The responsibility to carve out the façade of this deadly party on the blogspot.com was vested on my shoulders. So here I am writing this one for my dear friends whom I shall always miss.

After the party, we gathered in front of the CCD and the accounts were settled with Ravi and Maadu doing the calculations as ever. We all embraced each other and finally bid adieu the final time. We all knew that the Gang shall not meet again ever. Indeed the last party had been a memorable and grand one in its own sense.

Inexplicable Romance!!!

2007-06-13T10:54:00.000-07:00

It was the last day of college. The final formality was being carried out before leaving the college premises. The certificates deposited at the time of admission were being retrieved by the students. He was also there queued up in the not so long line for the last time of his college life. As he gathered his certificates from the counter and turned to get out of the line his eyes met a face so familiar that it did not even take him a moment to recognize it. He had known this face. He had admired this face. He had adored this face. He thought of smiling at her and offer a “Hi, How are you?” But then something refrained him from doing that. Silently he moved his eyes off and moved out of the queue to his waiting friends. He asked his friends to carry on and assured them of joining them in a few moments time. He never dropped an inkling of what he bore on his mind. He was often accused of never ever divulging his slightest of feelings and keeping his secrets veiled. He chuckled at this accusation as this helped him create an aura of mystery around him. He was often complemented that he was not known completely even to the closest ones. He endorsed the idea of unveiling himself in bits so that every shade of his persona gets the deserved acknowledgement.

As his friends moved out of sight he set his eyes on the girl who was in conversation with her friends. He came to know from their conversation that they belonged to the extension centre of their college. As the girl smiled to one of her friends he noticed that she has changed a lot. The appearance much more mature now. He leapt into nostalgia which swept over him. He remembered the morning assembly of his school when it was announced that there was a reshuffle of sections. As he moved into a class full of new faces and a few old ones he came across a cute little girl arranging her bag on the desk. He had liked her at the very first sight. As he settled on to his seat his little innocuous mind could not resist the attractive face and he fixed his gaze on her. Days passed by and watching her in the class had become a routine for him. He got a feeling that even she had tried to steal a few glimpses of him and when their eyes met he found her blushingly shy away. He was going through a strange feeling. This was a new feeling to him. Every time their eyes met his heart went to a thunderous stop. Now as soon as he entered the class in the morning his eyes would scan the entire room only to find her. It became difficult for him to spend a whole day when she was absent.

The classroom romance started to tell on him. He would imagine himself dancing to the tunes of the latest hit songs with her on snowy white mountain tops. Stories that were taught in the class had begun to replace him as the protagonist. (The story of a brave young knight who had rescued her lady love from under the nose of her kins who were against their marriage). Deep down his heart he had an alien feeling of guilt and fear that this undeclared romance might lead to a deterioration of his academics which was certainly not acceptable. From his childhood days he had been taught that affairs had spoiled and ruined bright careers.

The girl studied with him for the next 3 years but he never had the courage to walk up to her and even talk to her. Now after 6 years their eyes met again and once again he could feel his heart beat faster, the way it used to do then. He kept staring at her and felt even she stole a few glimpses of him just as she used to do. He thought of walking up to her and smile at her. Suddenly she turned and began to walk away from him. He stood there …helpless cursing himself. He stood there, his gaze fixed on her, until she reached the end of the lobby and turned to disappear. A sigh and he turned back hoping against hope that she might come running down the lobby (Hindi film style) and scold him for not expressing his feelings for so long and then he would embrace her and the entire crowd would erupt in applaud. Alas, those are meant only for Hindi films. He took a deep breath, looked back one final time and then walked briskly to his friends.

He took the puff from one of his friends,inhaled a long one, lifted his head and scattered the smoke into the sky.And he moved on.......

When death is the only savior!!!

2007-04-18T05:50:00.000-07:00

Motionless he lay on the hospital bed, his cadaverous body reluctant to show any signs of life. But the wide open eyes confirmed that the struggle within was going on and it would take some time to set the soul free of the agony. Few drops of tears rolled down his cheeks which had blurred his vision. An expectant smile spread over his morose face. Finally his savior had come-to rescue him from the pain. Death had come. It was not late when he realized that even death would elude him for some time. The struggle shall continue.

He stared at the ceiling reflecting of his past. His school days when he would proudly show his report card to his father. How when he had moved into the college he would do nothing but study, study and study!!!! How he dreamt of fulfilling his father’s aspirations and compensate for the failure he had gifted to him. Focus of reflection shifted a little further. He remembered the proud eyes of his father when he had delivered the news that he had bagged one of the best jobs of the college. The hug his mother gave when he had bent down to touch her feet. The jubilation and celebration his brother and sister had carried out. All this while he had a faint smile on his face. He liked remembering those happy days.

All of a sudden his smile vanished. Smoke filled rooms, red doped eyes began to flash before his eyes. He remembered the first puff of his life and then how he had graduated to the dreaded ‘drug addicted gang’ of his college. Scenes of smoky parties flashed before him and he wondered if his accomplices in the deeds had met with the same fate. Scene shifted. He could now see the sullen eyes of the doctor which had silently informed him that it was too late for him to have gone there. He didn’t even have time to lament. It was too late for everything. All he could do now is to wait for death. He remembered how he would boast to his friends that he won’t die the death of a common. He promised them that he would die for a cause that would make them feel proud to be his friends. He had wanted that no one should shed even a drop of tear when he is bid adieu. He wanted a death when his father would not cry but proudly broaden his chest to announce that his son had died for a noble cause. That was the idea of a utopian death for him. Destiny had other plans.

Suddenly his reflection was interrupted by a hiccup followed by another spurting out blood. A few more followed and his blood covered face had managed a smile. Finally his angel had arrived to save him from the agony, from the repentance, from the frustration, from his life. He embraced his savior with open arms. The long wait was over!!!!

BE Project!!!

2007-04-14T00:32:00.000-07:00

July 2006….The placement season was catching up but the four Ranchi lads were talented (or should I say lucky???) enough to have got jobs early in the season. So they could afford to relax. The group had been together for the last three years and so they had thrown a grand party at the infamous Madhuvan when they got placed.

Their sole aim of getting into BIT was fulfilled. They had jobs in their hands. Now they were in no mood to do more of those studious works which involved attending classes and doing PROJECT work. Unfortunately it was not late when the BE Project was imposed upon them and they were told to choose a guide and topic for the Project. A week’s time was allotted to them to finalize these pre Project deeds. Lazy and carefree brats as they were could hardly manage to find time to sit down and decide on a project and guide. They were busy partying. Finally when they were inquired upon by the Professor In charge they were left speechless. Eventually a topic and guide was assigned to them by the Prof. on his own. The guide allotted to them had a reputation of being one of the sternest Profs of the department. NO!!!! They can’t do a project under him.They had to find a way out. They thought of all sorts of excuses to get exempted from this Guide. Finally the persuasion sustained its importance and they were allotted a Guide who was known for his’ not so good engineering skills ‘ .A less knowledgeable person would not create troubles was the idea behind this shift of guide!!! The project work began. (Did it really???)

A heavy duty topic was found out from the internet (thanks to wikipedia and Google).It went as “Simulation of Exhaust Muffler in an Automobile engine using FLUENT software” Impressed???? So was their guide. Little did he know about what was in store for him. The semester passed by peacefully with their guide not interfering much. Just a formal enquiry at times and a similar formal response” Sir, kaam chal raha hai”.

The weekly reports about the progress the project has undergone were also handled with great ingenuity. Have you ever heard of the adage “BITians bakar ka khate hain”. (BITians earn their livelihood by bakar) They were making the old proverb come true!!! Every time they would fool the Prof In charge they would come out of the classroom with triumphant smiles on their faces.

Now, the semester was about to end and finally they had to make a final presentation before the Head of the Department (HOD). This was not a child’s play. The HOD was known for his depth of knowledge and fooling him was a next to impossible to task. Even then the seriousness of the situation was not comprehended by them and they were busy partying (later on they went on to be called as the PARTY GANG of BIT). The day of presentation had arrived and they were ready with a night’s work. Engineers often say” Raat baaki baat baaki”. Files were downloaded from the internet and the golden funda of “Cut, Copy, and Paste” was followed. They had decided that no attempts would be made to befool the HOD. “If he thinks we are wrong then solemnly accept that”. Shamelessly they went into the chamber. The HOD was going through their report. He halted on a graph and lifted his face to ask which parameter was plotted on the X axis. The Y axis was showing the attenuation of noise in decibels (DB). All four of them looked at the graph as if they hadn’t seen it earlier. “How do I know, ask the one who uploaded it on wikipedia” he thought. The HOD was definitely not impressed and the blank faces were beginning to infuriate him. His voice starting to become stern, when suddenly he said “Length of the chamber” Simultaneously the other one uttered “Frequency”.Now, that’s suicidal. That was a disaster. Ambiguous answers coming from members of the same group was surely not expected from final year engineering students!! Now the HOD had something to offer:

“You people yourself are not sure about the things your project contains. This shows that you have not worked a bit on this project. You have just copied the stuffs from the internet. This is simply not acceptable.”

All through his lecture he could only see a “repeat “on his grade card. "Oh No. My career is finished. My job is gone. I am finished". He was thinking of ways to commit suicide, hanging himself from the fan (no that would be painful). Rat’s poison seemed to be the best option. His gloomy thought process came to an end when he found his group mates getting off the chair. The HOD had given them a week’s time to come up with something concrete. He was relieved.

The next week Madhuvan missed its most regular visitors. When talent is coupled with hard work you get a successful project. Finally they managed a decent grade in the Project. They had once again proved the saying in BIT: “Jab tak hamare peeche top nahi lagaoge, hum kaam nahi karenge”: D

Ek Chhoti Si Love Story!!!

2007-04-03T01:53:00.000-07:00

There was something that was making the 2^nd yr Mechanical guys overwhelmingly exhilarated. The new faces were beginning to come in sight and evenings and class breaks (count that as the full day) were being spent at the RMC. Wondering what is RMC? Well it has a public name as The Royal Mechanical Community, but actually it opens up as the Randwa Milan Chowk in reply to the Piya MilanChowk (PMC). Randwa is a term used in BIT and many other colleges to denote the guys who don’t have girlfriends. So actually it encompasses the entire Mechanical branch barring a few exceptions. He too was there. After all he was a mechie to the core.

Just when he was about to get back to the hostel after finishing off the day’s chores (analyzing the new female faces) he came across a face he had seen earlier. “Oh I know this girl” he uttered and turned to find that all his friends were looking at the same face with those licentious eyes (u can’t blame them, mechies yaar-it’s in their blood). And when they learned that he had ways to contact that girl he was no less than a celebrity. Days passed and everyday he would see that face, admire it and get back to the hostel. Months passed by. He would call himself a BOND but when it came to approaching the girls he had all the problems in the world. A semester passed by. “What a fattu” his friends would exclaim. No, he just could not muster the courage to walk up to her and say “Hi, You remember me?” He loathed the idea. Such a silly way to strike off a conversation. He won’t do this. Not in his life. He had never approached a girl in his life. He would never do. His school mates had known him for his so called ATTITUDE towards the girls. So he dropped the very idea of talking to her and found it much more comfortable watching her with a sip of coffee.

Classes got over at 11.20 am and as usual the entire mechanical had assembled at the RMC. The girl too had come to get a notebook and a few chocolates. Just then his roomie whispered into his ears. “Come on, talk to her. She is your schoolmate yaar.” He could not refuse after the strenuous persuasion which followed and a few moments later he was found following her thinking of a novel and innovative way of introducing himself. After all he was known for his bakar!!! “Excuse me”. A face turned and he forgot all he had thought and finally managed to say:”Hi, Remember me?” Oh God. He abhorred himself for what he had uttered. Now the conversation follows:

Girl (with a smile, she was munching a chocolate): Yeah, I do remember you. How are you?

Him (relieved): I am fine. Heard that u have topped your batch.

Girl (blushing): No, no. Just 8.something…

Him (a bit more confident now): Yeah, 8 pointers are called toppers here.

And then a pause followed. The girl, sensing the uneasiness he was going through ,offered the chocolate she was munching. But etiquette intervened and he said “No, Thanks”

“Ok see you later, bye” was all she had to offer as she turned back on her way.

Meanwhile the rendezvous had a few curious spectators and a girl offering chocolate at the very first meeting was considered as a major feat!!! Congratulations and bantering persisted. The hostel waited with more of this teasing. He was happy.

Few days later when he was waiting in the lobby for the lecture to begin, he found a group of girls strolling past the mechanical lobby. As usual they were greeted with the hooting and some comments.But as the group neared in, someone from the mob exclaimed” Are ye to Aashu ki m**l hai. Kyu madam aaj chocolate nahi dijiyega kya?” Someone else came up with a “Namaste Bhabhi Ji”. ” Ah, there goes my eternal love story” he thought and fled from the scene. But he had seen the expression of disgust on her face. He would never be able to face her again.

Next time they crossed each other he had plenty of other things to look around. The story ahead would be narrated by our very own Munnabhai MBBS:

“Woh raat apun do baje tak peeya.

Sapna toota hai to dil kabhi jalta hai’

Haan thoda dard hua par chalta hai.”

Moral of the story: Love is divine ……….too divine to be handled by devils like us.

Hail Mechanical!!!

Unexpected Stardom!!!

2007-03-31T12:14:00.000-07:00

June 2002, sky was overcast with dark clouds and as they say weather not at all fit for cricket. But Team Samsung was least bothered. The 2^nd half classes for them were held at the Mecon Stadium and the zeal of the team members in attending those classes was worth noticing. For the people, Team Samsung was the 3^rd row of the morning Computer section 03 of DAV Shyamli-A bunch of sports fanatics who had all the excuses in the world to bunk classes and play cricket. The overcast condition was enough to mete out despair and chagrin to any cricket fan. Team Samsung had other plans.

Football fever was catching up with the world cup euphoria at its acme. So someone came up with a brilliant idea” How about playing football?” Unanimity was not that difficult to achieve and it was a matter of a few minutes when stage was set for the action to begin. Teams were formed. Strategies were a bit difficult to form as little did they know about the soccer skills of each other unlike cricket.

The match began and the pandemonium too. It’s not that hard to imagine the scene of about 15 lunatics fighting for a single ball. “Come on, pass the ball” was all he could hear surrounded by few of the most agile defenders. He had no intentions of sharing the glory of the first goal to be scored. So he gave it a kick himself. The ball sailed high and far enough to turn his resplendence into a futile attempt. “Hard luck” he thought to himself. But lady luck seemed to betray him all throughout the day and he committed errors (read as sins) to lead his team to a 0-2 defeat. The other day had similar things to witness. The third one was no different. It was time for the captain to put the thinking cap on. He was demoted to the post of a goalkeeper(no offences meant to goalkeepers).A goalkeeper is considered to be the ultimate savior of a team’s dignity upon whose shoulders rests the responsibility to make sure that the fort is secure. Things here were a bit different. Goalkeeping here was considered as the most passive of all positions and was assigned to the one who was not fit to play striker, midfield or defender. Standing at the goalpost he wondered if he would ever make an impact as strong as he had in cricket. His thought process was broken by an explosion.” What was that?” That was Prateek (alias Bhurri) special dear. “What a save!” exclaimed the ever animated Som and Nandi. That was surely not intended to be one. It was just a face coming in the way of a powerful kick and the goalpost. Took him a while to realize that he had actually made an almost impossible save. He could barely manage a smile amidst the pain the kick had inflicted. A ray of hope glimmered to redeem his lost pride. What followed were a series of regulation saves and a few laudable ones to give his confidence a much needed boost and prepare him for the ultimate test-the penalty shoot out.

The excitement was rising. “Spare a thought for the poor thing “he thought. “Get ready” was the call and the sturdy athletic Bhurri appeared from nowhere. ”Oh God” was all he could manage. 5.4.3.2.1….vroom!!!!!!! He made a desperate dive and succeeded in deflecting the ball. It was a save. Jubilation and applause followed. He was hardly concerned whether his team scored or not. He was thrilled at the save and intended to get a few more up his sleeve. His team did not score. Then came Manas. He cursed the opponents’ captain for accumulating an army of hard hitters. If Bhurri was a torpedo Manas was no less. Once again a powerful kick and a save. His teammates could barely believe what they saw. So did him. As an economist would say” A liability was turning into an asset”. The penalty shoot out ended with a score of 2-1 with the star keeper on the victorious side. So excited were his teammates that they compared him with Oliver Kahn (the star German goalkeeper who could do nothing wrong before the finals against Brazil where he was awed by the genius of Ronaldo) A star was born. Mission Soccer accomplished!!!!!

A leap ahead!!

2007-03-28T10:52:00.000-07:00

Silence of the night had induced nostalgia into the air. He was there sitting in his room with the puff in his hand. “And the award for the Best Boy goes to”….He could hear the announcement loud and clear even now. Though this was a Vth standard event but had a major role to play in establishing him as the perennial decent guy who could do nothing wrong! The lionizing persisted for a few more years and so much that it was difficult for him to envisage himself doing what he had done tonight. He remembered how he would throw looks of disgust when he would come across someone smoking. He had vowed to himself that he would never smoke as it did not go with his image. How much the word ‘image’ had mattered to him then? Not now.

He remembered how the girls of his class would discuss his camaraderie and humility. He could feel the stares of admiration on his back as he walked down the school corridor. A chill ran down his spine when he wondered how those girls would react when the pics of him smoking would reach them. He was thrilled. He was enjoying this new incarnation.

The next morning he was to be found with his branch mates with a puff in his hand and some comments to offer to the girls passing by. The stare back from the girls made him feel as if he had accomplished something. This was a totally new experience for him. He was not used to these stares from the girls. He had managed a leap towards being BAD!!

How good is bad???

2007-03-27T10:56:00.000-07:00

BAD is in. He had read this .He had heard this an umpteen times. He could only wonder if he was bad enough to fit into this new fashion which was hit nowadays. He had heard film stars giving interviews that they enjoyed playing characters having some shades of grey in it. So he sat down one day to reflect if he had any shades of grey or was he white enough to be written off as BORING!!! It was not late when the truth had hit him and it did hit him hard.

The other day he had been to the freshers’ party thrown to them by the seniors. Mechanical freshers’ party was known to be more of a bachelor’s party with no girls in the branch. What an opportunity, he thought to himself. He went to the senior who was distributing cigarettes as if he had endorsed the brand. He tried to light the cigarette but it refused to be inflamed as if mocking at him being a complete misfit to this much adored branch of bachelors. A smiling figure stepped in, took the thing off him and lit it with such alacrity that he could just stand there and marvel at the recently witnessed ingenuity. The coaching had begun and not surprisingly he managed to please his teacher even this time which he was so used to. He was a quick learner. But then to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The action had been performed. It was reaction’s turn to get into the act. Who said Newton was a genius. Reaction here was by no means equal to the action. So strong was it that all he could manage was to hold the chair’s arms next to him to prevent the embarrassing collapse. He had read about beginners luck. Where was it? He was feeling terribly disappointed. How would he flaunt pics of him smoking? Will he ever be able to prove himself apropos of this highly acknowledged branch? He decided to chase the imbecility out of his soul and give it one more try. This time things were much more calm and smooth. One more Sir!!! Another one!!! Can I have one more, Sir? He had managed the first step towards being BAD.