Shifting Houses

So we shifted our house from the awesome Sarita Vihar colony to super costly Safdarjung Enclave area. The reason for the shift was that I wanted a house so near to my office that I can walk there everyday. Hence this new house is 5 minutes from my office, 25 minutes from my gym and 30 minutes to IIT (all walking) which are practically 99% of the places I spend my weekdays. However living so near to office has its own disadvantages like you cannot get out of home late and sms your boss, 'stck in a bad jam.. will b late'. Moreover such localities are very costly.
However for me the entire shifting episode was a very big learning for one reason that it was the first time I did such massive packing, house hunting and shifting together when generally I suck at all the three things. But in this case as my flatmates ( who were also my batchmates ) were helping me in the entire shifting + packing, I got insights into certain 'shifting & packaging' personas which I have mentioned below:

1) The packing 'champions': These people are so comfortable with packing and shifting that it makes you feel as if they have injected themselves with Monica Geller harmones. Such people take charge of the entire packing and know exactly what is to be done at what time. In this case one of my roomies not only did most of the packing but took care of all bills, disposing unrequired furniture, security money, net connection etc. etc. etc.etc.

2) The packing 'daunteds': These people literally suffer from packing phobia and as you can see in the piture might even forget to take a bath in the entire shifting trauma. In my case I literally kept on delaying the packing till the last moment and moreover when now I am in my new house, I dont feel like unpacking. (I just realized that I might prefer buying some basic stuff again rather than unpacking)

3) The packing 'smarts': These are rarest (and ofcourse the coolest) of the breed who will get up at 1 in the afternoon on the d- day, start packing when everybody has finished and literally outsource the shifting to the other flatmates (no costs attached of course). In this case the second biggest shock (and I will come to the biggest shock later) of the whole packing was that this flatmate of mine litreally had twice the amount of luggage the rest of us combined had and yet he was not half as bothered.


 So, all packed and done we waited for the truck which finally arrived one hour late, uploaded our stuff in another half and stood on our colony footpath for another hour and half for the 'Delhi no-entry' to open and finally travelled 12 kms in the same truck to reach our dream house which suddenly (and this was the biggest shock) started appearing an inhabitable place to live. The same house which looked fine earlier now seemed like an inhospitable and depressing jailhouse. I dont know what had made me finalize it (maybe because we had 3 day to be thrown out and I have this gorgeous habit of postponing everything to the last moment, which has actually become my core competency, but about that in some later blog). So we entered the house at 9:30 at night and at 9:32 at the same night I had decided to start looking for new houses. (Actually we got that house through a contact and hence luckily there was no brockerage involved. Moreover it will be easier to find better houses in the same area now that we have moved here and I can give ample time to the broker to look for better houses. Finally, now I know what all NOT to do while shifting houses and the first mistake came at very low costs).
And the best thing out of all is that now when I anyway have to move in the next couple of days, I don't need to unpack!!

It's just another color!

Now before I actually ask you the question, I want to; let me tell you that although I have lived in Gujarat for a considerable amount of time, yet technically I have never lived 'enough' to form an opinion about the place and the society. I have spent a large slice of my teens here but since the last few years most of my visits to this state have been rather short and even when here, I have stayed all the time at my home and rarely tried to go out. So for the past 5-6 years, I have rarely been out enough to be able to observe or notice people so that I could ask you the question that I actually want to. Occasionally, on a brief visit to market or malls I used to get the suspicion but that, till now, was not substantial enough to ask you that question. Then fortunately I got a job here that made me stay in the state for around a month, and all the time I spent here, and all the people I saw here, I became more and more sure of asking you the question that I am actually about to ask you.....

What is with the men in the state of Gujarat and pink shirts!!......

....... They seem to be all over them. Among all the states that I have stayed ( and there are about 4-5 states where I have spent a considerable amount of time) nowhere have I seen the fascination for pink shirts more pronounced in men. In Gujarat you will meet men wearing pink shirts with white collar and sitting at the counter of a garments shop!! I was earlier working for this engineering and constructional major and was sent to their corporate office for training and the moment I used to enter the office, ( and believe me, I am not exaggerating ) I used to see all shades of pink shirts all around me. There would be a light pink shirt reading newspaper at the reception. Then there would be another reddish-pink shirt entering the office. You get into the canteen and you will see a pink striped shirt and a pink checked shirt eating food together only to be joined by a dark pink shirt carrying his food plate. Not only that, I also realized that there were people repeating the same pink shirt every 3-4 days, meaning either they loved them or had two of them!!

I remember going to a garment store in one of the popular malls in Vadodra and demanding an official shirt only to be surprised with being offered a shining pink. When I politely asked for another color ( and preferably a white or a light blue ), I was asked how many pink shirts do I have. I answered that I was unfortunate enough never to be tempted by it. So the shopkeeper asked me why don't I get a pink one. When I replied that I was not that desperate for a promotion from my boss to buy a pink shirt, the shopkeeper told me that this is Gujarat and yahan yeh sab color chalta hai. When I asked a 'pink-shirted' guy, why was he wearing a pink, he said he liked the color and had many more pink shirts and that even I should get some as the color would suit me ( wtf....!! ). When I asked a girl about the guys wearing pink here, she said she simply did not have an issue with it.

So the first thing is what is the problem? I have a friend who has interned in Germany and tells me that the guys there are so secure about their sexuality that they don't mind wearing pink. But here that is not the case. The whole point is that people here simply don't know!!

The second thing is why is it a problem and why am I being so fussy about a mega pink shirt bonanza proliferating in the state of Gujarat. So let me tell you, that anybody like me who has a sister studying in one of the premier fashion technology institutes in the country, better be aware of what he is wearing. In the year 2004 ( when I was supposedly innocent ), I had bought a Rs 900 redish-orangish shirt for myself ( OK.... It was pink! ) from a Delhi showroom. The first time I wore it was in front of my sister, which resulted in me being called 'Pinky-boy' the whole day with added suggestions that I should throw the shirt away. But unfortunately the 900 bucks made me ignore the suggestions and I again wore it to my college in Delhi. Whatever happened then would be difficult to explain in words but you can make sense from the fact that:
1) I had my class from 8 to 12 that day, so there were no chances of going back to hostel, changing the shirt and coming back
2) I never wore that shirt again.

So here I was looking for vengeance on a soul to take out my frustration. For years I searched for men whom I knew and had accidentally put on a pink shirt. But I found none in Delhi or in Mumbai or in Rudrapur or in Lucknow. And finally when I got a whole herd of pink shirt gujratis, there is no one to support me in making fun of them. In fact people think I am a freak making fun of their prestigious pink shirts.

On the whole the lesson learnt from the brief Gujarat stay was 'ignorance is bliss' since although any other guy at any other place would think more than twice before wearing a pink shirt, this pink parade is coming from a state having reported the highest number of extra marital affairs and establishment of condom vending machines during navratri. Hopefully one day I will see some of my IIT friends who are working in Gujarat or studying at IIM-A wearing pink. Finally we will have something more to learn from this place than money making and stock markets.

Michael and Me!!

I know that it might really seem illogical to some , but surely dance was not originated by very smart people. Wondering, who got the first idea of dancing, I think it must be some early man who got happy with a kill and started jumping out of joy to seek others' attention. Maybe some more who wanted a share in the kill started jumping so as to show their enthusiasm and here we have something called the origin of dance!! Some state that origin of dances were inspired from animal movements and dances like honey bee etc. but they do that because they can't communicate, we humans can! Even if dance was originated in form a rhythmic body movements to please God, as some state, do you think that was a good idea. I mean would God be like,"Hey dude! that girl moves real nice. Let me shower some good love and blessings on her!" and "What, you can't dance! Get lost, its hell you will be getting!"


Hence I think people will understand why I really get confused when I am asked to dance in parties. First of all, I don't understand, why do people need to lift their hands, jump on a leg, twist their neck, shake their knees, move their back and sweat like pigs to show that they are happy and enjoying the party. Secondly, I, like 98% of this world population cannot dance well, so there is no chance of 'impressing anyone' (I am sure that would have been the case either way, but I rather have the benefit of doubt :P). Thirdly, these 98% not so good dancers need others to dance with them, so that nobody notices and makes fun of them in the crowd. Hence, although they themselves know that they are doing something funny and laughable ,yet they do it. That clearly shows party dancing is a herd's mentality. Fourthly, around half (that is 49% of people) of them have the habit of dragging peaceful people from the crowd and encourage them to dance with them so as to show others that they can dance better than at least somebody else. I, on the contrary would have no benchmark and prefer to stay in the rest 49%. In fact in the whole of my life I have met just one guy who dances worse than me and how many parties can I take him with me to show that I am not the worst. Now, around one-third ( 33%) of the people in a party would always be drunk, and are too drunk to know that they are dancing. I surprisingly have never been so drunk to enter this category. Similarly, surely at least one in ten people in a party (10%) would be thinking he has paid way too much and would be dancing to make up for it. Moreover, if you take into account miscellaneous people like those who are dancing because they were bored or being forced to dance etc etc they will definitely account for some 5%. So you see people like me who have no reason to dance form just 1% of the disc population. We are a rare, peaceful and harmless species. Why bother us?

However, surely there needs to be a reason why I can't dance. As a child I used to one of those 4-5 kids who are made to sit with the groom on the ghodi during the baraat to make him realize the first lessons of the implications of an unplanned family. But that meant no dancing for us. Then came the school and with it the teenage obesity. So that definitely meant no dancing..... for philanthropic purposes. Even 'dancelessness' runs in my family and hence I cannot take help of my genes either. My ma just knows one step of dance and that's what she has been using for all of her life till now. So you see I was born not to dance!

But maybe the main reason why I can't dance is that I don't see any reason for it. And if anybody is still not convinced must learn from bollywood which has been constantly giving the us the message of uselessness of dancing, showing that the good guy has to dance around trees for seven long songs to get the average looking girl in saree while the bad guy does not even shake a leg to get the hotter and wilder 'Mona Darling'.
But guess you never saw that coming!

Alcovirginity

As he held the bottle of Absolut Vodka in his hands... he heard this voice for the zillionth time in that day. 'Again...why am I doing this?' He could clearly remember his friend telling him,' to get the best effect, start with a glass of beer and then go for the shots, otherwise it would become to difficult for you to handle. You won't like to screw up the first time you decide getting drunk!'

But for him, this act was more like a psychological experiment than just about getting drunk. He always used to be the 'coke and pineapple juice guy' in all the booze parties. 'Dude.. why don't you drink??' was the most common question asked to him in those flashing lights in Disc bars by friends who were on their third glass or maybe more. 'Hmm.. interesting question. Let me see it this way. Why should I drink?'
'Because it's fun dude. It is the ultimate bliss. Your inner self comes out. For you forget everything, and be what you want to be, say what you want to say, do what you want to do.'
'Hehe.. see thats the point. I don't want my 'inner self to come out. Maybe I am too complicated to handle that.'
'Stop this shit yaar, here, try the first sip from my glass'
'Ohh.. so you too are a 'try first sip from my glass' kind of guy, trying to gain psychological satisfaction of having made somebody take the first step towards dependency for life. So, after this first sip if I ask for more, you can be happy for the entire night with each shot that I take, that whatever I am doing is because of you!!'
' Get lost then, if you think you are so fucking complicated'


However today, as he sat in his living room alone holding the vodka and beer bottle, with a video camera running and taping all his movements, the prime reason was his complicatedness. For years he had wondered at his own unpredictability, identity crisis and failure to understand what makes him do things that he actually does. For once he wanted to know, 'what lay inside him' , 'who was he' and maybe to get drunk was the best way.

He poured the first shot and gulped it. He could feel his throat burning and a bitter taste in his mouth. He could remember the taste similar to the pulse polio drug taken in his childhood. 'Wait, pulse polio!! Am I drunk in a single shot?' He poured another but suddenly he started feeling the resistance to take it. As if his mind was pitching a battle against its disclosure. But he forced the shot in his throat. Surprisingly, this one tasted better. With a dizzy head, he looked at the light of the video camera placed in his book shelf, a place he had chosen so that maybe it might stays away from his own eyes when he is drunk.

He rested his back on his couch and picked the bottle to pour another one. Just then it occured to him that he must get somebody to talk to him to get the best out from the situation. Maybe there is no point in this whole thing if there is nobody to actually make him talk.
'Wow! I am so intelligent when I am drunk.'
He needed somebody good enough to handle him and the situation and he knew the exact person for that. He picked up his cell and dialed her number.
'Hello' came the voice from the other side.
'Hii.. listen. To begin things, I am slightly drunk'
' O..K..'Waise that is pretty apparent from your voice.Define slightly.
'That is not the point. You know I never drink. The reason why I did is... (again...why did I do this?). Yeah.. I remember. You know I always used to say that I have surpassed the limits of complicatedness and I really want to know, who actually am I, what goes inside my head. So this is like the only way I can know that. It is like an experiment. So if you can come here and make me talk, that would really help.'
'You are impossible. As I see it, it looks like an excuse to get drunk. I am seriously not interested'
'Cmon.. you are the only friend I have'
'See.. I am running very busy now. I don't know if I will be able to make it. Bye'

As he put the phone down, the shots had started having some good effect on him. 'Bitch, what does she think of herself. I need another shot. 'He poured another one, then another one and thats the last he remembered....

--------------------------------------------------------

He opened his eyes and his head started paining like hell. He wanted to know where he was. But he did not seem to have the energy. He closed his eyes again and everything became all right.

---------------------------------------------------------

He could hear his phone ringing. He opened his eyes. He could see the bright sunlight in his room. He somehow managed to grab the phone. It was her. He suddenly remebered his last night's booze and the phone call.
'Hi... were you able to make it last night then. What all did I do?'
'you dont remember anything!'
'No... not one thing'
'Yeah...actually I called to apologize. I could not make it. This work is taking the hell out of me. I am sorry.'
'Its fine.... chal I think I need to go back to sleep'

Just as he put the phone down, he saw the video cam. He recalled having put it there. It's battery had run off. He took out the tape and put it on play. It began with the first shot and the second. The he could see the phone conversation. Then began the shot extravaganza. 'Wow.... I managed four. No wait.... five!!' Just then he heard the door bell ringing. As he saw himself getting out of the camera frame to open the door, he wondered who came last in night. Just then he saw her appearing in the camera frame.

'What... she was here! But then why didn't she tell me.'

They began talking on some arbitrary topic, with her telling him, how drunk he looked. Topics rolled from office to how gorgeous she was looking. But then he saw himself doing something, he could not have imagined in the wildest of his dreams. In the next fifteen minutes he heard himself telling her the feelings he had for her. Moreover, the 'drunk' him convinced her in such a flawless way, he could never have done in his senses!! As he saw her on the tape, believing every lie after lie he was telling her, he realized where everything was going. It was not long that the camera showed them kissing each other passionately in a way he would never remember having learnt from anywhere. And as the clothes went off, everything that he saw thereafter made good sense to him why she lied to him on phone.

Finally from an analyst point of view, it was an interesting experiment. The drunk took advantage of the non-drunk. He had two of his 'first times' last night, and he could not recall any one of them. Finally as for the whole 'Who am I' thing the only result that can be interpreted was.. he was complicated.

Intutius' Guest Post

Not another girl post on thoughtspot!! But then you can't stop Intutius from writing on this topic. Moreover, it would have been a crime to ask him to write his typical post and not expect anything on girls.
On a personal note, I really think that the type of girl mentioned in this blog (hot, intelligent and Atkin loving) is kind of rare. Hopefully this is his imagination or otherwise I need to know more people in IIT [:P]. As for 'We can be friends since you have done the MEL120 assignment', well sure.. I have personally experienced it many times.
- Achintya

( Intutius aka himanshu writes for 'Intuiting Life' . You can read more of his posts @ intutius.wordpress.com)
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First day at college. @ Orientation Function.
(IIT Boy sees a hot girl sitting at front desk)
IIT Boy: {Wow… what a chick!! I knew this place would be awesome… Let’s begin.} Hieee..!! Myself Chirag. (Smiles) What about you?
IIT Girl: {Ohh God!! Yet another! This one’s third since the morning. Why these boys don’t mind their own business and disturb me? I’ve got to listen to this orientation and know about the labs and professors out here.} 2008CH70312.
{Boy gulps his saliva and decides to try once more.}
IIT Boy: Can we be friends? {Ohkk… this girl may be rude, but she’s hot too.}
IIT Girl: Are you in computer science? {I should be loving CS boys ‘coz my senior told me they generally score a good CGPA, get good jobs and moreover they are dumb too.}
IIT Boy: No.
IIT Girl: {Then Fuck Off!}
(Girl is back to her work.)


After one semester:
IIT Boy: Hieee!! How you doing? {She’s still hot!!}
IIT Girl: Great. My CSL assignment is complete and I’ve just finished my second revision of Atkins. My life rocks!! {I am very happy.}
IIT Boy: {I should gulp my saliva again.} Hey may I ask you a thing if you don’t mind..??
IIT Girl: {Oh God!! I wish he didn’t ask me the formula of critical ambient temperature, I’ve skipped it in my revisions.} Ya sure.
IIT Boy: Do you have a boyfriend?
IIT Girl: {Is he asking about a boy-friend or a boyfriend? I am confused.} No.
IIT Boy: {Yipeeee!!!!} Any crushes? Ok tell me who was your first crush?
IIT Girl: {Should I tell him about H.C. Verma?} What’s a crush?
IIT Boy: {Where’s my saliva?}
IIT Boy: Can we be friends?
IIT Girl: Is your CGPA greater than 8.22? {My CG is only 8.22, I desperately need to raise it this semester.}
IIT Boy: No. {It’s 5.8.}
IIT Girl: {Then fuck off… again!!}
IIT Girl: Wait… have you completed your MEL120 assignment? {The deadline is tomorrow.}
IIT Boy: {No.} Yes.
IIT Girl: Sure… we can be friends.
IIT Boy: Thanks. {I should start making my assignment now.}


At Barista
(The boy finally manages to take the girl out on a date at Barista Café just situated just in front of IIT Main Gate.)
IIT Boy: You’re looking great. {Just look at her cleavage man!!}
IIT Girl: {I know.} Thanks.
IIT Boy: So tell me what can I have you? Amor Frappe? Hazelnut Cappuccino?
IIT Girl: No, I would rather take Iced Tea. {It contains antioxidants and alkaloids.}
(Half an hour later)
IIT Boy: I wanna say something… {Now I can’t hold it anymore. I’ve got to propose her now.}
IIT Girl: {Oh God! Does he want me to share the bill !} Yes?
IIT Boy: I Love You. (Bends on his knees) Will you be my girl?
IIT Girl: {Oh God! I’d rather shared the bill.} Umm..well… I’m sorry.
IIT Boy: {Oopsss!!!}
IIT Girl: {I love you too … but I’m not allowed to date. I’ve got my assignments, projects and practicals. I wish I could have some more time.}
IIT Boy: Ok… then let’s share the bill…
IIT Girl: {Yeah..} Yeah.
(And so how it ends. The boy surrenders and decides to stop trying while the girl scores 8.65 that semester. Isn’t that so much for this happy ending..? :P )

***
PS – No offense made. :P
PS – Thanks Achintya for the space in Thoughtspot. (And sorry for so so late utilization of it.)
PS – Summers in Delhi suck!
PS - I guess I should get some water.
PS - Adieu.

Hottie-culture

Scene1
You are with a friend in a lift. Both of you are waiting to reach the top floor. It is a quiet moment and both of you are not even bothered about each other’s presence. Just then the lift halts, the door slides open and you see a sizzling hot girl enter the lift. The door closes and everything gets quite again, except the fan which of course goes on making this humming noise. But now you realize that everything has changed. You keep on looking at the girl, and then for a brief moment look at your friend to check if both of you are on the same page. He too looks back at you and the mental conversation starts..
‘Dude, check out the girl’
‘Yeah, she is hot!’
‘God is great’
‘Yeah… hope the lift never stops’

Scene 2
It’s a beautiful day. You enter the coffee house for a client meet. You are young, ambitious and focused. You are getting to take big tasks at a very early age. You are enthusiastic and thankful.
‘God, I Love my job’
The client arrives and the conversation starts. Everything is going fine. He is listening to your deliverables. Just then the door opens and the sizzling hot girl enters the coffee house. Suddenly you realize that you cannot kill the eye contact, have a good look at the girl and prove to your client that you are a perv. You start feeling helpless. By now, all he is saying has stopped making sense, or maybe you have stopped listening. Now it is just a bald head and moving lips. You pray to god for a miracle to happen, but she grabs the coffee and leaves. The door closes and it is still the bald head and the moving lips.
‘God, I Hate my job’

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Technically speaking takes around five seconds to check out a girl properly, three with practice. And although the society does not think very highly of this act, but let me tell you it is not that simple. If you are from a decent family, studying in the country’s premier engineering institute, you cannot act like the rogue standing at a local panwari shop and make noises at girls ( which by the way is eveteasing and I am in no way supporting it in this blog) . For him, it is a very easy job and that’s how the entire practice gets labeled as a mal practice. But for us it has to be casual and decent as there is always a risk of getting caught staring. Now although I am sure that none of us think very highly of this act but then it can't be helped. It comes as an instinct. By the time you realize, you have done it and you end up feeling like a pervert.

However, how much lousy this act be, every man does it irrespective of age and status. In fact if somebody doesn’t then he should seriously question his sexuality (or testosterone secretion). Sometimes this 'checking-out' act becomes so challenging that it can give people an adrenalin rush. For example during cultural festivals like Rendezvous when suddenly the whole IIT wasteland gets lighted up with gorgeous women moving in groups of 4-6, you realize that it becomes impossible to check out all of them together. You obviously can’t hold your look on one and then move to another and then the third. That could get you killed. And what if you are walking past this group of women. That practically gives you 5-8 seconds to check them out, which technically speaking is beyond the potential of human scanner.

Let me tell you that like any other educated person who thinks highly of females, I too despise the checking out practice. However on a second thought it might not appear so ‘animal’. Just think, maybe on some level this checking out is a sign of admiration. The ‘Hot’ designation does not come easy. One has to work hard to achieve it, stay away from cravings and spend hours in front of mirror. So checking them out is a way to pay homage to their dedication and sacrifice. In fact would these so called hot girls, who spend hours in gym and a fortune in dresses and make up, like if nobody looks at them. It is guys like us, who are indirectly promoting the fitness, cosmetic and fashion industry and let’s face it, we are their driving force. History gives us evidences that women have ruled the world with their beauty. It is one domain you people own. So in a way ‘checking out’ is like promoting feminism.

Personally, my feelings for these ‘hot girls’ is more of respect than admiration. And the day I would actually get to talk to one of them, I would like to ask her, how she copes with so much pressure of literally having a control on so many things. Just think, in an examination hall, a ‘hot girl’ enters and chooses a front table, which changes everything for the guys who would now like to position themselves in a favorable location, which changes everything for the class dufus who was completely relying on copying from his friends, which changes everything for the class topper as all his favorite front seats have now been occupied , which changes everything for the girl who hates him and wanted to sit nowhere near him and ultimately everybody ends up performing differently.

Maybe one day Marvel and DC comics would realize the 'hot -girl' power and might develop a character out of it. By the way if they do, they better give the 'checking-out' power to the super villian otherwise as things are going, the hot-girl power might become unsurpassable.

The Beggar Blog

No, I am not obsessed with the down trodden and the poor in this country. So, if my previous post was about the 'bais' and this about the beggars, that doesn't mean I have developed some sort of liking towards the backward class. It is just that I am getting to observe some newer sides of the society.

When as a child the first time I would have seen a beggar, the first impression would have been less of annoyance or pity, but more of curiosity, 'Why doesn't he earn it on his own instead of asking for it?' Surprisingly, that's a question for which even today I am finding an answer. Although the beggar community constantly keeps on trying to give me reasons, like I am blind, lame, old etc, but then they are hardly reasons. I have seen disabled people working, selling stuff in trains, polishing shoes or any other small business. So although the reasons might be genuine in some cases; but in a vast majority, they are just fraud marketing.

So let’s face it, begging is a profession. The purchases in this segment are impulse based. Somewhat the same as you spend your money on an alpenliebe or hajmola candy. You have never planned it before hand, it takes a fraction of a second to make a purchasing decision and the satisfaction just lasts for a minute or two and then it’s all forgotten. Now, coming back to my first memory of beggars, I remember my parents telling me to ignore them and that they are just a bunch of lazy people who don't want to work and earn money sitting. At that time it was difficult to digest the orders to ignore a poor man who was looking so pathetic, but with time I evolved and hardened my attitude towards them. But surprisingly they evolved too and changed their sales strategies. By the time I got comfortable with ignoring a lazy man sitting with a cup, they had poor children and women 'touching' you in railway station platforms or traffic light to get the money out of you in annoyance.

As an impulse, it might seem that for a business model that demands just one or two rupees from your pocket, spending that much is worth it to get rid of the sleazy stinking person standing in front of you. But then lately they too realized that this aggressive 'push' strategy was actually a mistake and that you can't fight with your customer's ego. So they changed that too. Now they are using 'pull' strategies, that is we don't want to beg, we are not beggars, we agree with you that it is a profession of lazy burdens on the planet, but what can we do, circumstances have led us to do this. But it is only momentary. The moment we get over it, we will be back in business, working hard to get back on our lives.

Now that sounds more convincing, but how are they doing it? On traffic light a woman approached me with a doctor's prescription saying she needed money for her husband's medicines. I would have given her money, and then I noticed that the date on the receipt was two months old. I asked her, why don't you update this, it would fetch you more money. She said nothing and turned away to the next vehicle! But then I realized it was a good strategy and she could have fooled anyone and many other beggars would be using the same at other traffic lights in other cities. But interestingly there is a clear cultural divide between beggars of metros and beggars of tier 2 cities. The Delhi beggars have evolved to such convincing ways, while beggars in my Bharuch are still relaxing on platforms with a cup in hand.

Whatever may be the case, every time a beggar approaches, I (and I am sure that must be the case with all of you) feel hard to convince myself to ignore that guy. On one hand I might be refusing a person really needing money, and on the other I might be encouraging such a profession. But then how many times have you heard a beggar dying of hunger. It is the hard working man who is too proud to beg that dies out of sickness or hunger. And what convinced me to this was a little incident a friend told me. She believed in 'you give a man a fish and you feed him for once and you teach him how to fish, you feed him forever theory' and hence when a girl approached her for money, gave her an address where she would get work . The girl asked, how much would this pay in a month.

"Two thousand", she replied.

"I make five thousand per month”, and went away.

Food aur Sexx !

It is my one of my favorite parts in F.R.I.E.N.D.S where phoebe asks each one of guys that if they had too, would they choose food or sex. Although I am sure, not many will face the dilemma that Joey faced in the scene, but I think for most of us, it is going to be a tough call.

How many times in the day do we think about food? Do you work to eat or you eat to work? Technically nothing is wrong with the first. This is the job each one of millions of species on this biosphere does. Food gathering is the most common work on this planet. The first trade ever happened was for food and I am sure the first murder too would have happened for food.

What fundamentally is just a fuel for our body apparently has to do a lot more than that and I am sure the shrieking souls of thousands of royal cooks who were killed for pouring more than required salt in his highness curry would agree with me. It is the spirit of food that gives my beloved parents the reason to get engaged in their favorite hobby, that is, arguing with each other, be it the sugar in the tea, or number of cups of tea in a day, an accidental samosa gulped in an office party which was sensed by the spouse etc. etc.

Food is also a perfect mood setter. I have seen people watch Khana Khazaana (a popular cooking show) and never try the recipe just because they love watching the food cook and garnished. There are popular Marwari jokes where the person has just enjoyed the fragrance of sweets since it is free. Sometimes even a follower of the religion – fitness, like me, gulps a pizza when feeling blue. Similarly food has been used as bait since centuries. And if you are thinking of the bait you give fishes to eat, so that you can eat them, think of the free pizza you get on attending company pre-placement talks. A promise of a tempting chocolate is the only thing that gets my kid nephew to me. Though sometimes it gets a bit costly to fool my family into thinking that kids like me, but still, this trick has worked successfully for many years on both of my nephews. Now dont blame me for bribing a 3 year old. When I was a kid, my dad used the same idea when he took me for a haircut, so that I don’t cry the hell out and drive rest of the children away in the shop.

And likewise for many others, food is not just a bait to do the impossible or a mood stimulator, but also reason to live. At morning they are looking forward to breakfast, at noon to lunch and at evening to dinner. For many people that last sip of coke from the bottle, the last cookie from the packet, the last candy in the jar holds special meaning. Personally I think that gargling sound made when your straw has nothing to suck from the can is the most painful sound in the world.
So you see, for the most developed species on planet earth, food hold much more meaning than just fuel, and perhaps for people like Joey, feeling the difficulty in the discussion was completely justified.

Now coming to the other part, do I need to justify what’s so great about it. Moreover can I add any opinion about it. Believe it or not, but sex sells. Hopefully I am not putting ideas into hundreds in my campus planning to sell themselves to companies in upcoming placement season, but it truly, surely and sincerely sells. In marketing it is one of the two mantras for selling anything to youth (the other is freedom, remember your bike advertisements). And many marketers use it to sell their products. Take Axe for example which exhibits the nerdy guy, hot girl and Axe chemistry. In fact Axe uses nerd losers to gain emotional attachments from a majority of their target segments that is, if he can do it, then I surely can. Forget deodorant, even D-cold makes sure that you don’t sneeze in front of a girl, and surprisingly if you don’t you get the girl. You use our toothpaste, you’ll get a girl, you use our inner wears you get one, you use our shave gel, and girls would surround you. Not just that, you eat our biscuit, you’ll get a girl, you eat our pizza and you can propose to your boss (who is a girl). You wear our jeans and girls would come running to you. Surprisingly Indian marketers have just one job in mind for our women. Although in this taboo ridden society they stop at getting the girl stage, but we all understand what they are selling, and surprisingly, hardly any youth product stays away from this formula.

I don’t understand where this point of choosing between food and sex comes. I don’t think anybody is ever going to say, “so what if all the food on this planet is finished, then let’s have sex.” I am also sure that the news about vice versa would make many lose their appetite.
On that food for thought I rest my discussion

Who here wants a candy

For the past 47 posts on Thoughtspot I have refrained myself from writing about Rendezvous. One main reason was I thought it was impossible to shrink a four year experience to approximately a 1000 words, secondly, I have seen Rendezvous as a bookish Fuchcha in first year, vocalist of IIT Delhi music team in second year, activity head in third year and events coordinator in fourth, (No, I have not picked up this line from my CV) and when you have seen something this closely you'll find it difficult to draw happy memories out of it. Lastly, there is a tinge of fear that it might paint my image as a despo. But then you see after spending 4 years in IIT, nothing can worsen your image. So.. let's do it.

As put up by Rendezvous marketing team, Rendezvous is the biggest cultural festival of north India. Which is the smart ass way of saying that we are second to Mood Indigo, IIT Bombay's cultural festival. We receive a footfall of around 80,000 per day which is growing at the rate of 10 percent, for which credit also goes to ministry of HRD for bombarding IIT Delhi with more and more students. We promise a maxima of brand visibility, which would be inversely proportional to the length of the skirt of the anchor conducting your event.

But that's all for companies and wooing (fooling) them for sponsorships. For any other guy in IIT, who has spent half of his life in front of internet and rest half dozing off in classes or taking up the last seat so that he can have a good view of the 'only' good looking girl in the class, since the almighty has bestowed this institute with a 10:1 ratio; Rendezvous is all about girls.

Rendezvous is the time when the small town guys, coached for IIT in a small city, actually get to see what girls look like. It is the time when the 2 km road between hostels to institute, the so called lifeline of IIT Delhi gets to see color flowing in it. It is the time you know that the girl in your class whom you had been admiring for such a long time had a boyfriend. There are girls in wind-t, there are girls at podium, girls at chaat stalls, girls waiting outside Open Air Theatre (OAT), girls standing alone, girls in groups, girls laughing, girls dancing, girls singing, girls, girls, girls... so much so, that our eyes refuse to seek any visual signal of any 6.5 feet, dark muscular hunk who might also be present there standing next to these girls.

If you are selected in any IIT Delhi team, participating in Rendezvous, you have a reason to be happy, because rarely any team would be without the best faces of the institute. But if it is the institute Eastern Group Song which has a high talent quotient, participants performing in kurta- pajamas and a stage that has seen the deadliest of faces singing in sweetest of voices, then you cant blame your team director for demolishing your hopes. Now if these girls prefer to go for choreo, group dance, Lifestyle etc its not their fault.

Surprisingly, all these things rarely occur to you when you are a co-ordinator or activity head managing a long three day event. There is a sponsor shouting on your head making unfair demands, there is vendor asking for a cheque. In management, it is preferred that you buy on credit and sell on cash. But generally in Rendezvous, sponsors give half of the money in advance and your supplier asks more than that as a security, so in a way you are buying on cash and selling on credit. Although everything becomes all right after the event, but before the event, you are in such a financial crunch that it appears, the poor guy managing entire Rendezvous finances would kill himself and with no cash and a 3.5 lakh event to run, you wonder how much will they give you for your kidney :P.

Do you think at this point in your life, you would have time to worry about girls coming to Rendezvous when you are making an average 3.5 hour sleep in that week. If you are the co-ordinator then you get unknown people asking you for passes and if you are foolish like me, then by the time a lovely visitor with beautiful large eyes and cutest of the smile asks you for a pass, you have already given it to your idiot friends. And what more, these idiot friends of yours think you have and unlimited supply of passes which is so untrue, and when finally you refuse to give them passes, you become the bad guy, despite everything you have done.

In first year, every IIT fresher thinks once Rendezvous comes, he'll get a girl. People think those participating have better chances. Or that if you are managing Rendezvous, carry an all access pass you have a better chance at the crowd that limelights Rendezvous. But you see actually .... NOTHING HAPPENS that way. What happens is that you see your hostel guy, whom you had labeled a good for nothing, strolling with a girl and and when your eyes meet his, you have the epiphany of what he is thinking about you, a great clear bubble rising from his head which grows until you can clearly read- 'What a loser'.

5 things I hate about you!

Those who know about 10.10.1.6 also know about its sad demise. For those who don’t, 10.10.1.6 was the illegal port through which we used to obtain fast net speed from morning 9 to night 10. Many of us used to be so influenced by this timing that we used to feel no different from Cinderella in our surfing chronicles. My entire work schedule used to be governed by this super proxy schedule. But now as it has got caught and I have no knowledge of any other illegal net guzzler, life is like a slow Raj Kumar Barjatiya movie.

But this blog is not about 10.10.1.6. It is about something else. As today because of the slow net speed I am using MS Word to write this blog so that I can post it tomorrow early morning, as I am juggling sentences, fitting flowery words , forming paragraphs, it reminds me of a similar activity I have been doing (or must I say misdoing ) for the last two weeks. And as you must have guessed it correctly, it is preparing my CV for job application.

Now for those who don’t know, a CV in IIT is a big deal. Just think about the guy who has been glued to his heavy textbooks at an age he might not have shaved his first beard on the assurance that if you get into IIT you will get a good job. Who has been kept awake in every poltu meeting so that a post in IIT will help in getting a good job. Then think what will happen when actually that time comes and all you have done is to be put up on a stupid piece of paper.

But I am not exactly a CV guy. I hate seeing the same page of paper and thinking how can it be made perfect (Now after co-authoring a text book I must really refrain myself from saying such statements, but that’s true) I don’t like writing and then thinking a hundred times how I should have been better. I write once, put in my best and that’s it. So when the next room guy tells me he knows people who had made 48 drafts of their CV before finalizing it, I say go to hell. Moreover being an IITian I have been trained and tortured to follow ‘do everything at the last moment’ protocol, which I have successfully followed so much so that I haven’t allowed my garments to be washed till I am surviving on the last shirt. Hence how can you expect such a guy to prepare a resume 20 days before deadline? So, when suddenly your ‘CV God’ friend turns up to your room, asks you to show him whatever crude crap that you have made in name of your resume you do get some hard time. Because like an angry boss he tramples everything that you have created and criticizes everything line after line, line after line and tells you that you suck at writing something, and that really hurts. Nobody tells me what to write and it’s hard to face any brutal criticism related to that.

There is one more thing. Getting an interview call from a reputed consulting firm means excelling into each and every of the so called resume segments like Academic Achievements, Scholastic Achievements, Internships, Projects, Extra-Curricular Activities and Positions of Responsibility. With over a thousand resumes in hand those people would be looking for reason to reject me and not to select me. So in a way, my resume is not about what I am, but how good I am. What marks the onset of my professional life; will that be the way how my whole life would be? This entering the professional world does send some shivers into me, and to survive I think I must prepare myself much before deadlines.

That’s where I think this friend of mine is right, maybe I should take this resume more seriously. A Placement Season might to some appear like the games period in your 6th standard when the two team captains used to prove what Darwin said about selection hundreds of years ago. You saw your friends being called alternatively by the two gods at their service and with every name called your Island of losers became smaller as the chosen ones moved to the prosperous world, till in the end one of them decided to bear with you. Well, if you have experienced this, its better you start preparing your resume seriously because this time it may hurt more. As for me… I will try to convince myself that watching Star Wars series the fourth time might actually help me knowing more about myself.

Thou Shan't tell anybody

Try this psychological do-at-home experiment of mine. Pick up a girl who is the PA system of your college, school, colony etc ( there is always at least one everywhere) and one day in middle of conversation tell her, "Yaar there is something I wanted to tell specially to you. But please don't tell it to anybody." And then stop. She would make a serious face and somehow suppressing the charge and the excitement of a piece of news she would say, "Yeah, what's it about?" Then say, "leave it, I think it is not the right time......." And then watch her plead and beg for it. See I am not somebody desperately seeking for somebody's attention but you have no idea of the importance that you'll get from a person whom you might have rarely talked before.

Welcome to the oldest and the most common way of spreading news...gossip. Gossiping has been the most effective methodology of viral marketing before internet and it has been in our culture for years. Its a pity that the secret behind its success is that what journeys from one ear to another is never about the good of anybody. Its always about soiling somebody's image or something wrong that happenned, somebody's failure or stupidity. In short we love to hear bad.

For years gossiping has been majorly attached to women. I have never heard (or should I say overheard) my colony aunties speaking good about anybody else to each other and its worthless trying convincing anybody on this point. However now I feel that even men enjoy it a lot and never miss an oppurtunity to turn something into a gossip. Some time ago I was discussing with a friend, how another close common friend of our's had completely abandoned us the moment he got a girlfreind and how pathetic it was etc etc. and we went on and on till finally I realized the reason why women love gossiping so much. It is the ultimately satisfaction you can get from a conversation. Two people working towards a common purpose, adding bit by bit to a masterpiece . It is the World's most constructive, undebated converstation ever.

Another reason why I support gossiping is that it ultimately brings you in the circle of trust of another person. You gossip and everybody is all ears, something which brings gossip on an equivalent platform to conversation about girls or sex (in our men's world). Moreover I have seen people 'gossiping their way to the top'.Your gossip colleagues are part of your inner circle too. You never know the stingiest, cruelest face in your organization might have an eternal love for gossip. My school english teacher had such an apetite for cricket gossip that you just had to name a cricketer to take his mind off the textbook and make him talk for an entire period.

Moreover gossiping is an art and some people have a natural talent for it. A good gossiper leads a conversation and is welcomed everywhere. Gossip sells, be it in the form of Aaj Tak ( Dr. Armaan ki akad, Dawn ki chahhat) or delhi times. Unfortunately I suck at gossiping and I hate the look on the person's face who is getting bored when I try to gossip. So lately I decided to remain at the receiving end. But some people like my mom and sis are really good at it. They would tell me they find neighbourhood women peeking into other's houses through their windows in search of fresh news. I want to ask them what are they doing when they find those people peeking into other's house. But then what's the use spoiling your source of information. Afterall everybody loves gossips.

Gandi Baat

Recently I got to read some very bold and interesting views on abusive words or so called gaalis. It makes me realize that wherever I go, how many different cultures I see or places I visit, the one common thing that I'll always find is this use of these words. In fact I recently met a foreign exchange student who on being asked told me the only Indian words he had learnt till now were 'namaste', BC and MC. Its amazing that the activity or the body organs which are supposedly responsible for every birth on this planet are the originators of the offensive words of the highest degree. And of the 155 different languages we speak in north, central and western India, these 'BC' and 'MC' words have remained almost unchanged. Needless to say, the exchange student had done a smart job.

As a child, use of the slightest of offensive language at home used to leave my parent furious. 'Bewkoof' (foolish) and 'gadhe' (donkey) were the only word that would be tolerated and any surge of anger had to be let out with these words only. Even till today I have not heard my father using any other word beyond these two. So like all other good things in life, my exposure to gaalis came from school, where in 7th standard, having learnt from each other we used to be shouting 'asso' not knowing what it meant. With the time came new words and the knowledge that we had been using the older ones wrongly. Although I might have tried to refrain myself from this very vocabulary during my high school days, but then suddenly everything changed after coming to college where I saw people had discovered the most innovative use of these gaalis and they were not just limited to fights or heated arguments. They are used as synonyms for friend (aur 'bhen..##', kya kar raha hai aajkal), beautiful ( kya f@%k lag rahi thee wohh aaj), smart (yaar, pichhle do saalon mein tooh toh bada MC ho gaya hai), dont disturb me (maa mat chu@a), go to hell (maa chu@a) etc. etc.

Sometimes I think that this innovative out of the box usage of gaalis is more logical than the traditional usage in fights and rage. If in the heat of fury you say one of these words to someone, technically what harm does it do to him. You say something, the other person would say you something else as fortunately we have been bestowed with so many words in the 'offensive language vocabulary' that they are enough to last for hours and new terminologies are being invented everywhere and anywhere. Moreover both of them know that whatever you they squirting on each other is not true. Even some of them are logically and technically impossible. Take the case of MKL, if somebody's mother had been having a penis, how would he have been born! And lets face it, who knows the meaning of 'chu...' although it is the most popular of all. The fact is that as against the general perception it has nothing to do with female reproductive organ. It is an urdu word which means 'a fool'. That's a word even I was allowed to say as a kid at home!

Whatever be the case, we still use these gaalis everyday, everytime and every occasion. We use them when we are:
a) suspicious: Tum log kahin mujhe 'chu#@' tohh nahin bana rahe
b) demanding: Oye Bhen.. jaldi se 2 chai le ke a.
c) Inquisitive: Yeh kya 'chu@#pa' chal raha hai.
d) Reprimanding: Kaisa 'chu@#' hai yaar
e) Happy: BC.. meri scholarship badh gayi.
f) Sad: Kya bataoon BC, prof ne meri maar ke rakhi huee hai.
g) disappointed: F@#k.. I got a D in that course.
h) And of course when we are angry.

In fact I have never met anybody matured who doesn't use them and although we sulk and get nervous whenever we blurt them out in front of girls, but I am sure they must be using them too to some extent.In fact a few days when a friend's notification that my department is asking for an immediate submission of project reports on a short notice near final exams made me blurt out some offensive words about what the department should go and do to its mom (which is logically impossible again). By the time I realized what I had said, I was too late and embarrassed by this I apologized to her. But then it looked as if she didn't mind it. A twisted smile and reassuring eyes looked as if they said,'I think so too.'

PS: This is the post which I read sometime ago, now it seems like I haven't added anything new.

Butterscotch

"What makes you think I am anti feminist?" He asked with the last sip of coke left. "You just said it!"She replied still working on her pasta.
"When did I say I am an anti feminist? I just said I am not a feminist. Its like, I might be against US attack on Afghanistan, does that make me Osama Bin Laden?"
"It's not the same! "She argued. She had forgotten the food and was staring hard at him. He looked at the beauty spot half an inch above her upper lip and thought how beautiful she was. The color of her eyes matched perfectly with the black dress she was wearing. "God these girls know how to dress for the occasion."
But now the same eyes assisted by the popping vein were demanding an answer.

He said "I know, Its not the same. See, Its just that I think what is the need for them to be equal? Why does this point of comparison arise. Why does there need to be a better among them? There are somethings men are good at. There are others where women are, and how much men try, they wont excel in such areas. So where does the point of ' who is better' comes. Its like...hmm... this garlic bread and pasta. You needn't say which is better, its the flavor the combination gives that matters."
"Hmm... keep going. You sound logical. You know, even I am not that feminist type. I somehow agree with you."She said, picking up the bread from the basket. This brought a smile on his face. The truce had worked and there was peace. He continued, "Its that I feel in some way women get privileges which seem so unjust. By the name of feminism they keep on getting undue advantages. When I was a small boy, and there used to be a guy-girl fight in the class, the guy used to be booed at if he hit a girl, since he was hitting a "girl" and if the girl hit him, still everyone made fun of him, since he was beaten by a girl. So you see there used to be no way out. C'mon if these feminists want equality, why consider this ungentlemanly when you are down in the arena."

"See I knew, you were like that. And all you men are like that. Its not about equality in the weird sense you are talking, its equality about rights and opportunities. " The vein returned and bread was dropped on the plate.
Damn.... It was a trap. "But.. but you just said, you were not that feminist type. You lied..?"
"Of course.. or how would I have known. Do you have any idea for how many years women have been tormented. They were kept as prisoners at home. They were not allowed to leave, kept in ghoonghats, duppattas, burkas and all that bullshit. In medieval Europe any woman who raised voice or tried to break away was declared a witch and burnt alive. And when finally we come up, its men like you who have no respect for women and no respect for all the struggle. Do you know how difficult it is for working women to manage home, children as well as work specially when the man in the house would never step in the kitchen to help out the women in preparing dinner."
"And even if he does, within half an hour you'll drive him away simply because you won't be able to adapt with the way he would work. Would you tolerate him as the manager of your kitchen? No, you would always require an assistant and it would be either your way or the highway."

Between this nobody had noticed that desserts had arrived and the butterscotch scoop had formed a pool around it.

He continued. "And in the entire conversation when did I say I had a problem with the women upliftment. In fact I appreciate it and heartily admire women who manage home as well as work. I have always admired my mom for taking care of us as well as maintaining a balance with her professional life and I must say she and many other women I have seen, are excellent time managers. And as for this 'rise' of women, well I am indifferent to it and don't really care. What bothers me is the itch for equality that you women show at each and every aspect possible. If men go to border to fight, women wanna go to; and this would create an endless debate. If men drive auto rickshaw, women would too, and they get their photographs all over the front pages. However when it comes to ladies seat in a DTC bus, you would never miss a chance to claim it. Its a pity that dragged in this itch for equality, you actually forget the things you are better at than men."

"Its not an itch but the need to show every man who has kept his wife financially dependent, grabbed asses or made vulgar noises at girls thinking they would never hit back; that we can do everything that you can."

He looked at her dessert. She hadn't touched it. Her melted ice cream looked like the date presently, totally wasted.

But she had more. "You waste half an hour over this discussion and say you are indifferent about our ascension? Let me tell you what, you indifference shows your fear and your irritation. We grab your jobs, your college seats. We give you competition. We are your bosses. And you simply are loosing whatever you had to us. Its no longer your domain, your kingdom. We share it too and thats what you fear. And when women prove themselves equal you call it the equality itch."

There was a brief silence when the waiter got the bill.

"You see the fat marwari woman sitting on that table, wearing that costly necklace and earrings. What do you think about her?" He asked while reaching for his wallet.
" What do you mean?"She looked in no mood for a change of topic. "No just tell me". he persisted.
"Well, she is not old, her makeup is overdone and with that heavy necklace and earrings she is desperately trying to look beautiful. Now whats your point?"
"Nothing, just that her profile is like as if its constantly saying, I am pretty, I am pretty. But a beautiful woman like you would never do that. I hope you know why."

This time it was a much longer silence. The waiter came and collected the bill.

Finally came the verdict."I would be leaving now, goodbye"said the judge.
" Goodnight"said the accused.


P.S. This link

Barista

He was out there on the road, and he could see her coming. The moment he saw her he started sweating. That always used to happen. And he will have to get over it. He had rehearsed this again and again, and this time it had to come right.

"Cmon, she is just another person, like you, like everybody. Why do you think she would call you a jerk"

"Go, get her tiger! This is the time. ...No wait! What am I doing?! Why did I think of this in the first place, I was doing it so fine all by myself."

"Just turn and go away, just turn and go away. No need to face her and this would go normal like another day of your life"

" Another day of your life as a loser, where you can't even say this to a girl?? What if she says no... it will be fine, You'll just move on. Just be casual "

"Go.. No.. Go... No...Go."

"So be it!" He took a long breath and started moving towards her, with each step getting heavier then the previous one. It appeared to him as everyone was watching him, judging him in some way. Now he had reached so close that there was no turning back.All he could hear was his heartbeat banging his eardrums. All he could see was her innocent face staring right towards him. And then everything went silent,as if the world stopped.......

He forcible swallowed whatever saliva he could manage in his already dry mouth, took a deep breadth and finally asked,"Behenji, aapke paas maachis milegi?"



P.S: Dedicated to all those guys who goofed it up...

P.P.S: To all those who thought," There was something I wanted to talk to you, would you like to have have a cup of coffee with me sometime?" would have been an appropriate ending, well.... my friends... there are somethings that work and certain things that dont.

Autorickshaw Diaries II

Photographs are a wonderful way of capturing moments, so dear to your life. There are certain photographs that make you realize the astounding progress this country has made in the last decade. Like this one ( taken near a temple):



Then there are others that make you realize that once upon a time, you used to be another source of entertainment for your parents. Like this one:



Which was just the reason I had put this pic in my orkut profile. Or there are those that make you feel nostalgic about the wonderful time you had spent with your beloved friends who were once like your family, like this one:





However there was one pic that I'll never forget. But that was during the school time. The pic that made an unknown guy like me, some sort of celebrity in the school (actually I didn't use to be an unknown guy, I said that just to increase the threshold). That pic circulated from my friends to my class teacher, to my sports teacher, to all other teachers. And people whom I had never met came to me asking to have a look. School bullies became best friends and for that period of time this ruthless world started seeming like a nice and cozy place to live in. Now that was ninth standard, so whatever I am going to tell you now might not appear to be a big deal, but it was a big deal when we were that young.

So It was a fine day, fine morning, everything appeared normal, sun rose from east, I caught my school bus, reached school, everything went as usual. Then came the recess, everything seemed fine till then. After that suddenly everything changed. It was when that girl approached me. " You have been called by ma'am in the class". Now when they say,'You have been called by ma'am', that too during recess, you expect to see just one representative of Satan in hell ( I mean classroom), but when I reached the class I saw at least two dozen faces, belonging to the girls in my class and of course my class teacher, giggling at me, the moment I entered.

At this point I would like to add just another fragment to the story, that had happened few days ago. Our school had launched a pen friend program, with some school in Britain, and two girls, for some reason I haven't been able to figure till today, had chosen me as their pen friend. Of course our teacher had asked us to reply their pen mails asap along with our photographs to take the friendship to the next level.

So that's what had happened, the replies had come from Britain, and with the reply, the photographs of our pen friends. And one of my pen friend had sent her photograph in a bikini. Well after having a hard time convincing my class teacher (and my mom at home) that the photograph I had sent them earlier, did NOT have me in my swimming trunks, life became busy the moment I stepped out of the class. It was the moment I realized the speed and efficiency with which females can spread a news. I had people coming from everywhere, asking to have a look at the pic. For some time I felt like a supplier of adult movies, I think I should have charged those people. And then there were some special people like my sports teacher, who asked for the pic, had a good look, and then said, "tuchh tuchh, kaisee foto khichwaati hain wahan pe ladkiyan."
Ok Sir, eat my candy and then spit it on me.

Unfortunately, after a few days when everybody lost interest, I kept that pic somewhere and totally forgot about it and this is the reason I cannot show you people one of the most popular photographs of my schooldays. However the fun part is that almost nobody bothered or asked about the other pic of the other girl (there were 2 pen friends, and hence two photographs.) And well I dont think I would have shown that pic to anybody even if they had asked me. For me that pic was more special, and i think for me, it was nothing as compared to the other popular pic. Well when it come out to driving people crazy, it need not be bikini every time.... :-)

Jaag jaa Fuchche

Political season in IIT Delhi is at its peak. It is the night before the D-Day (the D-Night). I am roaming in the wings, talking to my wide awake wing mates. At 5 o'clock I head for Nescafe. I am sleepy, frustrated. After spending some time there I trace back my path to the hostel and wait for the morning. And If you are thinking what I am, then No, I am not into politics, has absolutely nothing to do with this political season. Not even excited about it. Even if I had stayed away from every single piece of poltu news, nothing would have changed.

So why am I describing this night out to you. This is because in IIT you face two types of night out. Voluntary and forced. Voluntary, where you are up either because you want to enjoy the night with bakaitee, cards, movies or some hostel event where you know that the practice needs the whole night. Forced, are where your seniors keep you up for practice, upcoming BHM inspection, etc. As you come to senior years your graph of forced nightouts goes practically to zero. But this was my forced night out in fourth year!Now why was that, and why I am so fussy about it that I am writing a blog about it when practically it should have been my 'bed time' ( its 12 o clock in the noon), is the blog all about.


For the first reason, I'll have to tell you what happened at Nescafe. Now if on the D-night, you are up and roaming in the wings, your hostel mates can can have an obvious tendency to misunderstand that you are actively involved in the political fiesta. So that is what happened. Now frankly, I wont like this tag attached to me, specially in my hostel, when I am doing nothing. Why would I like to be a part of " kaun aajkal kitnee macha raha hai" talks. Similarly when I went to nescafe at five in morning, I met a friend of mine from the other hostel. But he was like... " what are you doing here?" Now that is very skeptical and rude. I know i am not VERY good at politics, but that doesn't mean i would like people to think that. I dont mind someone from other hostel misunderstanding. So by the end of the night,those whom you not want to show, take you as poltubaaz and those whom you wont mind, already know you are not !

Coming to the second reason, why was this night out forced. Well, B-29, Karakoram Hostel might not be the political hub but it is the part of the wing that is. So from the last two days, I had been seeing fuchchas and second yearites having the voting rights, being kept under vigilance in the wing.So that night, the moment I decided to call it a day and was switching of my room lights, a fuchcha came to me and said he was very sleepy, tired and not feeling well and needed to sleep. So how could I have refused. Thus this lead to my first forced nightout in forth year. Other rooms were occupied by my other freshers and many of my wingmates were facing same problem. Yes, but with me the problem was more because accidentally I had a 'voluntary' weekend nightout last night. ( God, I think Limca book people might be interested!!)

And if you thought that was all, then you are wrong, because there is a twist in the tale, for what happened after he woke up is what forced me to write this blog. When finally at 8 ,I happily woke him up, the moment the fuchcha came out of my room, he was welcomed by some popping eyeballs. Nobody knew he was sleeping in my room. The cell phones had been confiscated and eventually when they couldn't find him or contact him,they thought.... you know what!! So there were some 'fuchcha mil gaya' jubilations harmonized by the sound of my collapsing on bed.
You know, an eventful night can be eventful for anybody.

The Kara PA system

February 2007: Karakoram hostel is brimming with election mood. The then Maintenance secretary who is contesting for House secretary position is highly censured by the opposition for not getting the 'PA system' repaired throughout the year.
September 2007: With the responsibilities of maintenance renewed in the hostel the PA system stands repaired.

Since then it has been the same story:

It is 6 o'clock in the morning and I have just completed watching yet another stupid movie. After the boring hanging out last night, a night out watching headache movies is all I needed to murder yet another friday night. I remove all the junk from my bed and collapse on it and am about to doze off when the dead silence of my hostel wing is broken by a cacophony. I try to avoid it, thinking it will stop, but then it goes on and on. It is the Karakoram guard on the public announcement asking students to return mess plates and glasses. So IIT does expect us to be up on our feet at 6 in the morning. They can postpone the breakfast till 8 on Saturdays assuming us to sleep till late, but the wee hours are the appropriate time to ask for returning mess plates.

And that's not the only way PA system is misused. I don't know about other hostels, but in mine, many people use it for advertising. Every evening hear the the washer man, " dhobee aa gaya hai, jis kisi ko kapde dene hon, woh aakar dede." And once an innovative blood donation campaign crossed all the limits when I heard a NSS student announcing the blood camp schedule and allotting of NSS hours. So hence soon, I must not be surprised if I hear the announcement of every RCA, BSA, BSW and BSP event on it. (Hope I am not putting ideas on somebody's mind).

The usefulness of the public announcement system can't be doubted.I am NOT challenging its usefulness. All I am saying is that I hate it and that is is being overused to the extent of being misused. A hostel can't be without chaos and yelling and we have over a period of time got accustomed to it.But this PA system is rather intolerable, to the extent that the croaking voice it produces is more irritating than anything else, specially when the guard ( who is the announcer in 90% of the times) decides to speak in his broken English, which might have been another decision taken by senate to improve quality of education and institute standards.
Moreover we are not even given an opportunity to get accustomed to it, because the moment we start getting habituated to this nuisance, the PA system breaks down and the wings go into silence. Some months pass by peacefully. And then one fine morning, before we start appreciating the new found peace of mind, we find the guards voice reverberating the hostel walls at 6 o clock in the morning,"All those who have taken mess plates and glasses, please return them." We realize the poltu season has arrived.

The implication of declining sex ratio in India

It makes me proud to present before you this masterpiece of mine. Was happened was that at the CAT coaching center my Angrezi teacher gave us a list of words and asked us to write an essay on a given topic containing about 20 of the words given in the list. Now this is what happens when your entire essay/article is governed by the urge to use certain words in the time limit of 15 minutes.

The implication of declining sex ratio in India

For many families in India, the birth of a girl child brings no Euphoria.People who engage themselves in such malicious tasks forget that this falicide of girl child is a rage against someone who is going to be a future mother, wife or daughter. Such an act has no sagacity. In fact it is a malcontent against the human survival. If such an misanthropic activity continues to thrive in society, I fear the sex ratio might fall to despondent levels.
People fail to realize the incognito of potential, women can have. They fail to realize that it is due to their dour reflection of womanhood that women have been considered objects of pleasure. Moreover, in some parts of the society, uxoricide in the form of 'Sati' is also practiced.

We need to rebel against such malpractice. Just magniloquent talks or sheer mourning or speculation over the matter wont help. Only candid efforts shown over a period of time will bring fruitful results. Womanhood brings cornucopia of happiness to society and we must try our best to preserve them, specially in more rustic regions of India.

Episode VI: The return of Jedi

Why use the title of an 80's movie for an article? Ok, people know I am a Star Wars freak and have had my share of DarthVader wallpapers on my desktop, but then why literally after one month when I sit to pen down ( or rather type down) my thoughts, why is it that, just this seems to be the right title.
To be true, I am online after practically a month, the reason being that 'I' shortcircuited my motherboard. How that happened is another story with the moral that you do not put a DDR 2 RAM in motherboard meant for a DDR 1. And now when this moral has costed me nearly 5000 bucks, a wiser person sits before this comp after 44 days (Yes, I had been counting!) In my case it took so long because it was a branded Lenovo machine and replacing it with any other would have given compatibility problems. However this is not what is important. What is important is what happened after the machine broke.

In IIT, a computer is your best friend. And nobody who has googled and copy- pasted term papers and picked up lab reports from LAN would disagree with me. Not that this is the only use. And hence for me admitting the very fact in the beginning that my machine is screwed was rather difficult to admit. It looked like one bad dream from which I'll suddenly wake up and find my computer working perfectly in front of my eyes. But that never happened. There were times when on returning to my room my hand habitually went towards the CPU to switch it on, and then I used to realize that it no longer works. ( dramatic, isn't it :D)

But slowly days started getting longer, simply because I didn't have anything to do. I became a lone sole havering in my wing peeking from room to room in search of some entertainment. My societal quotient encountered a tipping point as earlier electronic media had made those visits succinct. My CSC visits became so frequent that I became a familiar face to guard sahab there. And I am sure that now when I have no plans to visit that place until the next short circuit (may god forbid!!), he will definitely miss me.Moreover, getting bored gets so killing that you take refuge to your course books. And the whole things gets so ironical simply as you are working harder now because you don't have anything better to do, and that because you are lazy enough not to get your comp repaired. So eventually because I was lazy, hence I was working harder.

But eventually this electronic shut off did turn out to be a turn on. As time passed I realized how dependent I had become on my computer. My nocturnal visits to nescafe reduced and so did my unnecessary nighouts for LAN movies. I started sleeping early and became a morning person, something that everybody in my wing noticed. I returned to my old habit of reading books and read a number of pieces of fiction in this period. And yes, my minors went pretty well finally in fourth year, when it matters the least.
And finally after 44 days, here I am, in front of my comp at 3 o' clock in the morning, penning down my chronicles, with Rihanna's "Umbrella" at high volume in the background. I log on to facebook, chuckle a bit on some forwarded messages, do some scrapping, chat with a friend and search for new HIMYM episodes on LAN. As for the unfinished Naipaul's 'Bend in the river'... well I think it is there to stay on my desk for a long time.

P.S. Jedi is my nickname on LAN

A few good dudes

There are 2 types of dudes in this world. Internal dudes and external dudes. Internal dudes are dudes from inside. Might not initially appear like one but if you watch their attitude closely, you would be left impressed. External dudes are the dudes whom you take in front granted as dudes. Shining bikes, new hair styles, built, girlfriends etc. etc. But the internal dude category is the one whom we fail to recognize. So lets talk about them. There are some episodes in my life which helped me discover the real dude in people, which I would like to share with you.

Chapter 1: Mayur Soni*

This is from my school time, 11th standard. As usual mid terms were approaching and teachers were burdening us with projects. Such a project came from the physics teacher, to choose any chapter from the text book and make an experimental project on it. The response was a usual. The toppers started browsing encyclopedias in the library and rest of us frowned. It was becoming a fashion among the teachers to give assignments. I mean you have lectures for theory, labs for practical. Either you know that you are not a good teacher, and hence you find the need for the students to make projects and hence try understanding the fundamentals themselves, or you agree with us that practicals are waste of time at school hours, so you want us to learn some practical applications at home. There is no third reason to it. But then it was a question of marks and hence we all kept quite. But then one guy stood up and rebelled. This is what that happened:

Sarkar: Mangal Pandey, come here to demonstrate your physics experiment. On which chapter have you worked.

Mangal Pandey: Ma'am, on gravity.

Sarkar: ( A little confused) okkk.. so show it to me.

Mangal Pandey: fine ma'am. (Takes out a chalk from his pocket. Drops it on the ground. Then smiles. Looks up at teacher's swollen face.) See Ma'am.. Gravity.

Chapter 2: Hannah Jasmine*
Now this was in 12th standard. Our teacher had become surprise quiz freaks. On that day the
biology teacher was distributing checked answer sheets of a recent biology surprise quiz. Our very same Mangal Pandey too got his checked paper. And suddenly many people gathered around his paper and there was an uproar in the class. His paper was being passed on from bench to bench. I too joined the cluster to have a look. And then I saw unprecedented, unimagined answer to the most common high school biology question. The question was, draw the diagram of Amoeba. Mangal Pandey had made some dots with pen below the question, circled them and written " Amoeba, very small, cannot be seen through naked eyes."
But the dude of the story is not Mangal Pandey ( Mayur Soni), but it is the biology teacher. She had given half mark to him for the answer.

Chapter 3: Me
Or why do you think I wrote this blog?? :D


*Names changed for privacy reasons