Friday, July 25, 2008

A Saturnine introspect..!!

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::a blatant confession::
the following content is an upshot of exposition to motivation provided by the likes of Rang De Basanti (thnx to my cable operator).. Swades.. Nayak.. and several others.. readers may have read similar babbling articles but the writer wishes to put forward his rendition...
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Sometimes.. irascible topics cross my head and beset the poor inane brain of mine.. not only does it cross, but it intervenes with other germane thoughts as well... Everything that happens to me after that, just falls in the right place.. so as to concave all my sapient attention to the topic... now that i've started blogging (inspired by my sagacious friends), i hope my thoughts will find a nice dwelling place..

I remember in the days of my childhood.. when my elders or my teachers asked me about what i wanted to become in life, my reply was the most devious one... without scaling the weight of the question, quiet unknowingly i would declare..,
"i want to become a soldier!!.."
the fights, the battlegrounds, the guns and bombs.. they all used to lure me more than anything..
And then... quiet unknowingly this answer vanished one day.. The vacuous reply was succeeded by more shining and becoming ones..
"Doctor!!"..
"Engineer!!"..
And in the process the soldier in me died..

well.. now I am twenty years old... I call myself a part of this "white white orbit white" generation..I am at the genesis of my specialization and my country looks upon me as it's hope.. as it's future.. But am I really worth??.. Am i really the one who dares to change the rules.. who dares to swim against the tide??.. i get no answers..
Mr. Kennedy said, "Never ask what he country does for you.. but ask what can you do for the country".. and at present, I am nothing more than a noone to my motherland.. My life at present is as desultory as the boat with a lunatic captain.. i don't even know what I am doing.. a good pay pack.. a good score in the A,B,C.. ATs.. a nice sweet partner.. new clothes and apparels.. is all i care about at the moment.. The topper(no offence meant) of my batch wants to secure a government job for himself just to earn that extra under-table transaction.. My friends and seniors are stepping outside the country to enhance their skills but they never want to come back.. Will they ever come back??.. no answers again..
Though I am more than 18 years old, i don't even share the basic responsibility of voting for the right government.. all my basic amenities are supplied by the nation but deep down I know that I can't give my life for it.. i don't ever dream of becoming another DJ.. or another Mohan.. the valour in me is simply missing..and quiet blatanyly i have accepted that.. and I'll be lying if I say that I never dream of settling abroad like many of us.. So does that mean m not patriotic??.. does that mean m an irresponsible citizen??.. unanswered again..

All i know is that i feel on top of the world when India wins a cricket match.. i feel proud when I see the tricolor amongst the others in Olympics... i never hesitate to strum some open chords and dedicate songs to my motherland on Aug 15th.. I abstain from lying on 2nd October.. But is that it??.. are these the qualities of an ideal citizen??.. i stop questioning myself.. they all go in vain..

Friends.. It's always better to light one candle than to curse the darkness... these repercussions of the nationally-disturbed mind wants me to come up front and battle against our miseries.. the paralyzed political frame wants me to mend it.. the social evils wants me to eradicate themselves.. but m clueless bout helping them.. my brain defies my mind.. maybe say after 10 years when I read this blog I'll just give it a sarcastic grin.. but right now.. my thought needs to be recorded..
i wud like to end this never-ending conflict from where it all started...
few days back the newspaper read the following lines..

"the moment we start taking our freedom for granted.. we become our own slaves.."..

thank you..
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Tuesday, July 15, 2008

....THE CIVIL COMMON ROOM.....

::disclainer::
All the characters and places mentioned bear complete resemblence to their respective owners whether they are living or not non-living.. Parental discretion could be hazardous as the blog is solely meant for non-kidos.. Readers may find certain objectionable words to boost their vocabulary(of slangs) for which the writer needs no appreciation..

......DCE HOSTELS...

..present..

.. a story..about NO-thing..

.."THE CIVIL COMMON ROOM"..
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"he must be asleep!!".. huffed P.C
"impossible!!".. said the other guy as he banged another hard kick to the mighty door which stood in front..
This attempt didn't go waste..
"kaun hai chu(beep)..(rather beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppp)..." came the reply..
The voice carried a bag of emotions.. it was affirming as the speaker/shouter was quiet sure about his guests.. it was helpless because he knew that he just had to open the door..(the kickbag)..and had to publicize his very own privacy..and at last it was grating or howling because it had to match the quality of those Mara-dona kicks on his poor door..(already in bad shape)..
well... the emotional shouter was none other than the very famous..(rather scandalous) Khanna.. alias Ritesh Khanna.. BCH-127 his piece of land @DCE was haunted by two intruders and he couldn't do anything but open the door.. but he tried something of a scarecrow stuff!!..
A boy.. wearing a sleeveless (smelly) T.. a flowered nicker.. (or was it an underwear??..)..stood in front.. distorting his facial features to pose the worst possible look in his book..the wanna-be alien managed to ask..
"what??..."..
those two gatecrashers didn't even bother to throw a glance at his efforts.. and entered the blessed room... actually none told him that his normal face was much more scarier.. so all his shots to contract his facial muscles went in vain..
The room... it was shambles top to bottom.. right from the dense spiderweb on top.. to the spilled pepsi on the floor.. every element in the room fought their best to fill the empty spaces.. it was khanna's way to evade visitors.. no space.. no more dwellers.. was his policy.. even the air greeted them to some mysterious gases, coming from some unknown poisonous source(s).. above all there were four more laughing faces inside..
Pulkit( shares the room)..Abuhasam( mmm..shares this room too!!..).. Ravi Shekhar(scares the room).. and Baba-alias Alind( tames the room).. it was friday night and all of them felt like brave warriors after defeating "Building Construction and Materials".. the next exam was on tuesday.. so it was Party-time...
P.C(bajaj..ved bajaj.. varun ved bajaj)..passed a comment in his unique way..
"it's really difficult to get inside khanna's room.. but once you get in,, it's very difficult to get out..".. the statement was followed by one of his special hypocritical grin..but alas it soon vanished..
the angry gatekeeper drenched him in his exquisite slang collection while bolting the door..and delivered 3-4 sentences through which he conveyed that how easy it was for him to get some1 like P.C out of the room..
P.C was unmoved.. it's been two years since khanna has been showering his best, newly-learnt, modern slangs on him.. he experiments with new ones and tries them on P.C to check the harshness.. P.C has got used to these like water.. he could almost sense their arrival..
Khanna's laptop was playing one of the "good" movies which was enough to glue the guests.. everyone except Mr. Pious abuhasam were sitting on khanna's cot to adore the scenes and pass comments which even the cannes critics dare to pass.. Clean guy got lucky and managed to find a BC PUNMIA- SURVEYING out of the pile and revised his concepts..
The new guests were warmly welcomed by the bed-holders and were offered seats.. "the duck tales show" was going on.. though everyone had seen it several times.. but still.. a revision was always greeted.. The show ended in 5 minutes.. Khanna switched off the laptop straightaway..hoping that this unfriendly gesture would be enuff to goodbye his visitors..
just then.. there were three back to back bangs on the door.. someone out there was in some hurry...
"kholl be...". it was narendra..better known as technical bak(beep)..
Baba opened the door to the 6 feet monster which just refilled it's well-like stomach with triple half-fry from the night mess.. and was jumping with excess energy which was reflected in his toothy smile..
"kitna padh liya be??.".. he asked baba..
well.. they all knew.. it was narendra's way to get charged up.. which he terms as.."complex lena".. during exams everytime he meets baba he fires the same question with an aim to get a mind-boggling reply like.."poora khatammm!!",.. or "sabb ho gaya".. and he follwoed that with his cursig-himself ritual.."damn..i haven't even started!!"..By this he used to pump up confidence in himself.. tough philosophical enginering indeed..
though unwillingly,, baba started counting the chapters..and fill confidence in that balloon..
soon after 10 minutes.. everyone in the room got busy with each other.. P.C dared to switch on the laptop.. "rock you like a hurricane" handled the sounds.. abu and pulkit started solving previous years problems as ravi watched..
IPL matches.. sania's T-shirt quote.. Narendra's chance of havin a girl-frnd and crying at the fate of that girl..abu's bike.. a plethora of topics crossed the discussion table..
the hour passed unnoticed.. they had stepped into the next day.. at around 12:15am, P.C reminded them of resuming studies.. He climbed up to the third floor with the other guy and waved goodbye after discussing the chords of "rock you like a hurricane".. they decided to meet at 3 to "fetch a pale of water"..
just as the other guy unlocked his door..someone uttered a word from inside.. it ws.
..."shitttt..!!"..
the syllabus booklet for which he went downstairs 2 hours ago, still lied on Pulkit's table.. he desperately needed it... so he decided to go back to the ground floor and reached 127..
"knock knock...!!..bang..."..
"kaun hai (beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppp)!!??.."..
another two hours??..
not- the- end
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BCH-127.. the room which belonged to narendra in the first year became famous spot on.. after narendra, the legacy was passed on to khanna under whose reign the popularity reached unsurpassable heights and became a piece of jealousy to the ppl of other brances..he he.. enuff boasting..

in short.. it was a place where some of the dangerous minds of a gifted department came together.. my second year days were ornamented by this room.. only selected ppl dared to enter it.. but regular members had real fun.. once a student was quoted saying.."wish i was in civil too!!..".. such was the shine, such was the impact of the room..

a blog dedicated to this room was necessary.. firstly coz i neva want to delete the memories.. secondly it was the perfect "escape mechanism" i've ever had.. KFC tours.. Birthday bumps.. walk the "mtero walk"..goosebumps over horror movies..jumping in the College fests.. friday dhaba special.. everythig was planned here..
so.. this was the story about nothing.. wanna come over??..
you're welcome..

:)l(:

Friday, July 04, 2008

THE GHOST OF TRISHUL..

I don't remember the exact date... But it was in the month of may'06.. WBJEE was faced, coming up was DCE's CEE.. this story is bout a notoriously hot and irritatingly humid night.. I haven't disclosed this before.. neither to my friends (to avoid gettin bugged) nor parents (to avoid bugging them)..

so.. lemme explain the scene.. as i said it was super hot.. withstanding delhi summers is far more difficult than doing a nude rampwalk.. it's anything but comfortable.. it's a time when even your vests seem to be xtra clothing.. when the volume of water comin out of our pores is more than what goes in thru ur mouth.. without deviating more, lemme come to the point..

there i was.. sittin in front of the mighty table lamp (which lit my entire room).. the old philips radio playing songs of kishore kumar.. the cooler and the fan were busy in their "jugalbandi".. and yess.. the open math book by mr. suraj, inviting me to turn it's page (whn u r stuck in a problem nd it takes time.. even the book gets bored).. though my parents made all efforts to cool my 'hot' body.. but challenging all their endeavours, i was sweating like a pig.. they could easily have featured me in the advertisement of Voltas air conditioners..(suffering like him??.. use Voltas).. those days of preparations require a special mention.. in a special blog.. IITJEE was a mishap.. aiEEE was disaster... IP was unfaithful.. so doing well in DCE's CEE was time's call..(in which i flunked again).. but still.. finishing another round of drying myself with the poor 'rumaal'..(which was already wet).. i looked at my latest attempt to solve that monster of the problem.. as if some faiy wud come out of those solutions and guide me through... seriusly.. sometimes i wonder.. i will wake up someday.. and I'll get a pencil..a pencil which writes only correct things.. i just have to put my hand over it and show it the problem to be solved.. it will then write the correct solution on it's own.. aah these sweet dreams often get broken by my mom's shout to wake up..

but here i was not asleep.. i browsed my solution for a probable mistake for the last time and just as i turned the page to venture into another monster.. the light went off.. Ghaziabad Development Authority is most punctual in theses things i guess.. they shut the supply lines at twelve in the night.. they don't miss even single a chance to harass.. their punctuality is so worth that people here adjust thier watches with their timings of power cuts..(I mean if the light goes off in the night, ppl will adjust their watches to 12pm).. and you tend to forget about all the power shortages.. nd energy crisis.. nd everything else when it goes off.. the first thing u do is.. curse them.. coming back..

I sat there like a still body.. The operator lives in 14th floor.. he gets down and then switches on the generator.. so it takes time..( for which he neva escapes the slangs thrown silently)..

no movement.. no sound.. The room was alive till then.. there was this cooler-fan combo rhythm.. there was kishoreda.. there were vehichles in the bus adda which sounded like chirping birds.. but now... it was all silent.. no light.. no ears.. it was like two of my sense organs were not functioning.. I got off from the chair.. went to the balcony.. The Ganga apartment was like a dark mountain.. their guard didn't swich on their generator either.. i searched for the moon in the sky.. but it was nowhere to be seen.. The beautiful view from my balcony..seemed scary that night.. i felt uncomfortable inside and decided to come back in the room..

As i reached the balcony door, the strangest of feelings passed my nerves.. it seemed like something.. or somebody,.. was blocking my way inside the room.. it stood itself just at the entrance.. like a child who gets haunted by the "aahat" episodes, i shoot my hands in the air(probably to get it/him/her out of my way).. nd almost ran my way in..

huffing.. nd ctching my breath back..( dunno why..) i sat on my chair.. it was crazy.. it's only then that i realised that no sound was coming from the usually noisy bus adda.. it was completely dumb.. i didn't want to go to the window to check that out.. a howling moan from somewhere very far.. dogs crying.. evrything was like trying to scare my a** off.. my throat was dry.. but there was no water left in the bottle.. so i decided to walk to the kitchen to refill that.. it takes few steps to reach kitchen from my room.. and i cud hve walked that journey evn in no light.. but still quite surprisingly rather spookyly.. i struck against a wall.. this petrified me to the deepest bone.. i crawled my my way back and equipped myself with the lone weapon I had.. (every brahmin kid has).. i grabbed my sacred thread in my wrist.. and started chanting the gayatri mantra closing my eyes though it didn't make any difference as it was xtreme dark..(yeah.. i was downright religious too)..

After a few minutes my ears responded to some familiar sound.. the cooler and fan resumed their beats.. kishore kumar was succeeded by rang de basanti.. as I opened my eyes, the table lamp greeted me to light.. which I was dying to see.. Without moving a single piece, without producing the faintest frequency, I succumbed to my bed.. i remember i didn't even turn off the lamp.. the poor peice glowed the whole night.. mr. suraj had to see that same page for the entire night..

the morning came unnoticed.. as i woke up the next day, went to the balcony.. the beautiful view of the east delhi roof calmed me down.. there was the same old noisy buss adda.. I neva cursed it's noise after that night..