SaumyäSæz

A New End, A New Beginning.

2010-01-11T06:39:00.002+05:30

I remember this from somewhere

In the end, everything's okay.
If it's not okay, it's not the end.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is so true.

The Door's Open, milove ...

2009-04-08T00:58:00.003+05:30

Here's something I wrote NOT quite recently. However, there's a bit of a story attached to this episode. I wrote this piece in a state of mind which one couldn't exactly term as "regular". Strange as I am, after I had jotted it down I couldn't resist sharing it with a friend.

Of course it was inappropriate at that time to have posted it on my blog, for the simple reason that such an act might have defeated the very idea around which the piece revolves. However, the friend liked the concept and the expression so much (takes a bow) that very soon the piece landed up on the blog of that particular friend.

It is today that I present to you, a true tale from the saumyajain archives. The "Whys" and "Whats" of it all ... (Now now now, don't take me seriously, I am just exaggerating stuff out of proportion. An old advertising gimmick, you see ... :D)

Read the post though, it was written on a sober thought. Here goes everything.

“People come in our lives just like someone visits our homes. We welcome them in. Show them a piece of what is us. Share a few moments. If they are formal, we keep them to the drawing room. If they are family, we let them in the kitchen and other rooms. Some of them get access to the living room. We call them friends.
We don’t mind them peering at our dirty socks or strewn about magazines. We feel safe sharing our lives with them. And when THAT special person comes in, one thinks about getting the house painted, maybe its time to move up in life.
Maybe its time to tidy things up.
Maybe she would want to move in.
...
Please, good God, make her want to move in!
Meanwhile, she moves about the house, arranging it with authority. I let her. Its as much hers as it is mine. She waves her wand and things seem to just fall in place. Oh! am I happy, or am I happy?

But then, something changes. She moves in close.
But how close is it?
Is it close enough? Is it far enough?

Is she here all by herself, or does she have to be told to? Do I want her to be told to be close?
I want her to want by herself. If that’s not there, it means nothing.

Nothing at all.

Is she just being “nice”?
Being so close and just being “nice”?
“Nice” means nothing to me. I am not nice.
I am genuine. Straight-in-your-face genuine.
I don’t like her being “nice” when she cannot really be close.
I don’t like her being close when she cannot “really” be nice.

I don’t want her to touch the things inside any more. I don’t want her to not to either. What do I want? I don’t know. All I know, I don’t want it like this. I don’t want any apparitions or fakeness. I can’t keep her close. I can’t keep her inside. I can’t keep her out too. She has to be around, but I won’t let her be close like this.

In my mind’s eye, I have placed her somewhere at the door. Neither moving out nor moving in. She can stand there, get a view of what is outside and a glimpse of what is inside. I have let her to decide what she wants. The door’s open and you’re standing there, milove. It’s your house, it’ll always be. Only thing is, if you want to come inside, you need to know that its your house, and you have to treat it as your own.

If you don’t or you can’t, the door’s open and you’re standing there milove.”

Much water has flown down the Saraswati (note the double pun!) since. But, although I am much, much, much (and much much more than that) wiser now than I was when I wrote this, the basic philosophy, the premise of the written word as it meant to me back then, hasn't changed too much. My inner thoughts would be still be somewhat reeking of similar concepts. Maybe the form of interpretation of the concept, the way it is understood and applied now might have changed. But this piece does sum a part of me up for good.

Why this post? Why now? Just like that. A thought tickled me from inside and felt like revisited this long-lost post.

Baat niklegi toh ...

2009-03-30T00:01:00.002+05:30

Another masterpiece. Heard this today on a road trip across the countryside. Though I had heard and used the first line of this nazm so many times in the past, it was only today that I finally got a chance to hear it completely.

The beauty of this one is that it comes to me at a time when the lyrics are almost so relevant. Well, I could say that about any urdu piece but this one touched my heart today.

बात निकलेगी तो फिर दूर तलक जाएगी ...

लोग बेवजह उदासी का सबब पूछेंगे,
ये भी पूछेंगे कि तुम इतनी परेशां क्यूं हो ...

उगलियां उठेंगी सूखे हुए बालों की तरफ़,
इक नज़र देखेंगे गुज़रे हुए सालों की तरफ़ ...

चूड़ियों पर भी कई तन्ज़ किये जायेंगे,
कांपते हाथों पे भी फिक़रे कसे जायेंगे ...

लोग ज़ालिम हैं हर इक बात का ताना देंगे,
बातों बातों मे मेरा ज़िक्र भी ले आयेंगे ...

उनकी बातों का ज़रा सा भी असर मत लेना,
वर्ना चेहरे के तासुर से समझ जायेंगे,
चाहे कुछ भी हो सवालात न करना उनसे,
मेरे बारे में कोई बात न करना उनसे ...

बात निकलेगी तो फिर दूर तलक जाएगी ...

‍-कफ़ील आज़र

Glossary
तलक : Till
सबब : Cause
तन्ज़ : Taunt
फ़िकरे : Jibes
तासुर : Expression

And time just flew!

2008-10-15T02:32:00.003+05:30

It has been a long long time since I really blogged something. To be less ambiguous, it has been close to six months, save a fit of insanity last weekend, when I have ended up posting something.

Apart from the fact that much of what I was facing was totally unbloggable (or, from another viewpoint, a typical movie script and very much blogworthy!), and the fact that I simply had much much bigger things to take care of in my life than this (my very own crazy little real estate in cyberspace) I had been pushed out of my wits to post anything meaningful. It is certainly not that I wasn't inspired enough to write. It's just that, the pieces never seemed to fit. Last weekend's sudden departure came as a piece of good news which prompted me to complete a pending draft and put up a plagiarised-ish quick post.

You heard the good news, it's time for the better news, and as all the strange conincidences of my life, it is no wonder that it is my hundredth post that coincides with the news that I have finally ended the drudgery and taken up a job in a field of my liking, or I would put it, not-to-my-disliking. Here's a poetic flavour to the episode, and here's to my bright (or dimly lit, in the least) future ...

Looking back from where I stand
My shadow has turned darker, longer
Is it dusk? I wonder,
Have my demons become stronger?

Or is it the dawn, I wistfully think
The sun is on the horizon's brink
I was sleeping I do not know
If its coming or getting ready to go

My footprints have a clue to say
They seem to come from far away
How did I come here? I cannot tell
Did I walk or is it from the sky that I fell?

But then the sun does finally rise
And I fall into my surmise
The shadow has turned long
Its grown in character, nothing wrong

It is the depth of wisdom I gain
Though it comes with the cost of pain
Old memories, I no longer keep
That wisdom, paints my shadow deep

They look the same, Dusk and Dawn,
Its not our worth to ponder on
Our fate, it is us who's making it
Building it by hand or just faking it

Firaaq

2008-10-09T03:29:00.002+05:30

रात यूं दिल में तेरी खोयी हुई याद आयी,
जैसे वीराने में चुपके से बहार आ जाए,
जैसे सहराओं में हौले से चले बाद-ऐ-नसीम,
जैसे बीमार को बेवजह करार आ जाए।
(फैज़ अहमद फैज़)

Kaka Hathrasi

2008-09-10T15:00:00.001+05:30

Vinod has recently started a blog on Kaka Hathrasi's creations. Here's my (literal) two cents ... two compositions as my personal tribute to Kaka's legacy, in his signature style.

The first one was written during the Hindu festival of Karva-Chauth in 2007. Picking up from the usual Kaka-Kaki nok-jhonk, here's how it goes ...
काका से काकी कहिन , हमारा खूब बनाया मेल,
मैं भी खेलूंगी इस बार करवा-चौथ का खेल।
करवा-चौथ का खेल, रखूँगी मैं उपवास,
उम्र तुम्हारी लम्बी हो, जेहि है मेरी आस।
सुनते ही काका की बुद्धि ऐसी चकराई,
सज़ा-टाइम की EXTENSION भला किसी को भायी?
कहे काका कविराय हाथ यूँ जोड़कर, “काकी,
इतना जीवन कम था क्या, कुछ कसार रह गई बाकी?”

... and the next one struck me on the day I got to know about this blog. Here's how that one sounds like,
एक हमारे बन्धु भये, उनका नाम विनोद,
काका की कवितायें वो नित दिन, लायें खोद खोद।
लायें खोद खोद, करें हम उनसे विनती,
अपने रचनाओं की भी, कभी करो भाई गिनती।
कहीं काका कविराय मजा तोह तब आवेगा,
ब्लागस्पाट.कॉम जब दद्दू-गीत गावेगा।

Here's a hick-a-doo to Kaka Hathrasi, the nuffiest poet known to man.
Hickkk-A-Diddle-Dooooo!!!

And then the old man said ...

2008-05-22T14:13:00.003+05:30

Post Note : This is a one-time note. I am never going to write something like this again, and for no one else.

Like the archetypal character in Vinod's fantasy novels, each one of us in our lives has a "wise old man". He comes in different forms for different people. For some, its their fathers, for some its their uncles, their grandfathers, their neighbourly elder or someone. I found such an old man for myself in the early months of 2008. We immediately hit it off. He was about 3 years older to me, a man of principle and character. He was, so to say, someone whom I would like to live my life as sometime in the future.

In this place of "quick-to-change ethics" and magic words like "adaptability" and "fending-for-your-own", I had finally found someone who was "old school", who had the insight and the patience to look into the details, who used his homegrown intelligence to solve problems and someone who was oozing with confidence. He was someone I had once wanted to become. He was someone who made me realise that it was possible to live a life like that, someone who showed me how contentful it is to live likewise. He was someone who gave me hope.

Yet he was no superman. He was weak and vulnerable, just like me. I connected with him because I could. Very few could. But I was lucky. I was lucky to spend time with him. I was lucky to share thoughts. As much as I realised that it was only a tip of an iceberg that I could relate to in such a short time, it was still enough for my agitated mind. He could give me a sense of relief subconsciously which I had somehow lost in the past couple of years at IIT.

When I was packing my bags at IIT to return to my home for good, he came round and offered to accompany me, on my taxi, for the trip. I think I shall forever live under the assumption that this event happened just so that we could spend some more time together for one last time in THAT mode. Here's a brief conversation we had during that trip, amongst a lot of other "meaningless-yet-profound" transactions. (P.S : Don't mind the profanity, just look into the meaning)

He says, "You know what, you are a d**k."
I say, "Hmm?"
"Yeah, you are a d**k who is not interested in f**king."
"Hmm?" (BTW, this is the kind of response that I give to him whenever I want to keep him talking)
"Yes, and mind you, there are not a lot of people whom I consider d**ks."
"So what do you consider most of the people as?"
"Oh most of the people are c**ts. They are happy just getting f**ked. But you, you are the other kind, you are the one who has been made to f**k , but you're not realising it. You're simply not interested. Saumya Jain, work on this and you can really f**k the world. Realise your worth. You're a d**k and you know it!"
(I just smiled. At being called a d**k! And then he smiled, knowing that we both knew what had transpired in that heavily loaded Toyota Qualis speeding away on National Highway 91 on that scorching summer day)

I must say I was lucky to have stayed back in IIT that one extra semester. I was lucky to have met this wonderful person, who filled the proverbial much-needed-gap in my life. Here's to you, Raj, and I would gladly say that for me you have been the closest one to being the elder brother I never had.

Ball-Bearings, eh?

2008-05-22T14:12:00.001+05:30

Oh Well, I might have lost my bearings, but I have surely not lost my balls!

Ek aawaaz si toh tumko aayi hi hogi ...

2008-04-28T09:34:00.006+05:30

माना कि गूँज रहे थे सन्नाटे,
माना चीख रही थी खामोशियाँ,
जब आह भरी थी हम ने, तब न सही ...
पर जब दिल चटखा था, तब एक आवाज़ सी तो तुमको आयी ही होगी।

माना कि उदास थी बहार,
माना खामोश था यह चहचहाता आँगन,
सूनी गलियों मे छुप रहे घुप्प अँधेरे में ही सही ...
मेरी एकाकी ने अपनी एक झलक तुमको चुपके से दिखलाई ही होगी।

माना चुप्पी लगी थी इस ओर भी उस ओर भी,
माना भरोसे की किल्लत थी इस ओर भी उस ओर भी,
यह भी मान लिया दोनों ही का अहम बड़ा था, लेकिन ...
इन दूरियों ने तुमको एक दीदार की गुहार तो लगायी ही होगी।

माना कि सपना टूट गया,
माना कि रिश्ता छूट गया,
पर यह तो आज भी कबूल नहीं कि थे तुम बेवफा ...
हमारी ही वफा ने तुमको शायद कोई कमी जतलायी होगी।

To The Nice Guys ...

2008-04-28T09:06:00.002+05:30

Well, this is one of those instances which I call a SUUPER exception. Someone else's work on my blog! But still, I couldn't have agreed more. Here Goes ...

http://www.stwing.upenn.edu/~jenf/writing/rant04.html

Ode to the Nice Guys

This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing "serious" between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: "oh, but we’re just friends!" And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as "oh, he’s too nice to date" or "he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me" or "he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!" or the most frustrating of all: "no, it would ruin our friendship." Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks.

Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
Fu-zu Jen, SEAS/WH, 2003

Its not too often that one finds, in another heart, a sense of pain that one has himself undergone, and in another's fingers, the same dexterity to put it in print. Well, I am (part)amused and (part)intrigued by this one.

Blood.

2008-04-20T15:41:00.003+05:30

Nothing lasts. Blood Survives.
Flowers wilt away.
The taste of chocolate fades in memory.
The touch of a hand lasts for merely seconds.
But blood. Blood sustains.
Blood only thickens with time.
Blood only becomes deeper as the clock ticks.
Blood doesn't doubt.
Blood doesn't flinch.
Blood cannot be washed away.
Blood stays.

Blood always stays with you.

The Perfect Analysis

2008-03-29T12:02:00.004+05:30

I had once said about Vinod Khare "...one who would give me the coldest yet the brutally sanest advice on any issue", and there he goes again! This is a short conversation I had with him on our reunion at Alfaaz, IIT Kanpur's Literary Festival, which he is gracing as a Judge!!! Beats me how he manages to do that (too!), but however, that is not the point. Speaking of which, here is the point of the pointless conversation, (definitely not the first and surely not the last) that we had today on our time honoured practice of pilgrimage to "THE MT" for chai, samosa and whatnot.

The topic of the chat is the usual, "What is Saumya Jain supposed to be doing", hehe, something in which I have earned a D.Phil., needless to mention that all arguments expounded in which are as useless as the debate of the status of the planet Pluto in the Solar System. so, here goes ...

Saumya (talking about a day in recent forgotten history on which he had a bath): See, it is about perfection, about quality. It is about giving your best in everything you do. When I take a bath, I get an oil massage, a pedicure, a nice little sunbath and then I stand under the shower for ages. That, my friend is the perfect way to cleanse the body and the mind.

Vinod: Uh-huh.

Saumya: Yeah, nothing, absolutely nothing beats the feeling of your legs being soaked in warm water, sitting in the afternoon sun, and a relaxing massage with oil.

Vinod: Uhm! You mean "Getting a massage"? Are you employing people to do that? Really?

Saumya: Ah! No, no no. I mean I am rubbing oil in my hair myself, but, isn't the feeling just heavenly?

Vinod (pauses, thinks and then BANG!): Tumhe pata hai, tumko na Raja hona chahiye. Ekdum tumhaare laayak job hai! [You know what? You should be a king. Its a job just made for you!]

Saumya (Obviously surprised at the skewed parallel drawn between a king and a job desc): Hmm?

Vinod (Coldly, as though working out a case study. You just HAVE TO give it to this guy, he can remain SO indifferent even when he is speaking of such *disdainful* wisdom!) : Haan, na tum kuchh kaam karte ho, na kuchh karna chahte ho, bas pade rehte ho, aish karte rehte ho, aalsi bhi ho, ek hi cheez aati hai, bak bak karna aur morals baantna. Yehi sab toh karna hota hai. [Yes, its obvious. You don't do anything, neither do you want to. You just hang around all day long, making the most of your leisure-time, and you are slothful too. If you are good at something, it is talking crap and moralising. This is all that one requires to be a king.] You should have been born in the medieval times. You'd have done well.

Saumya (the truth hitting him at last): Yeah, I always thought that I was a bit old fashioned for this world. Too sad I missed the window. Waise, meri kundali mein shaayad Raj-yog likha hai. [Astrologically speaking, my fortune favours me to become one of the ruling class] Hehe. Kahan apply karoon? [Where do I sign up for this?]

Vinod (Smiling. Oh thank you holy mother of God): Hehe, chal chal, MT chal, fir bataataa hoon... [Hehe, walk on along, let me explain...]

And so we met again, probably for the last time on IITK soil. Probably for the last time to discuss this dreaded issue which I myself have been taking a bit too lightly (this blog-post notwithstanding). Hopefully though, I see some light at the end of this tunnel.

So anyhow, Ladies and Gentlemen, that, was Vinod Khare, and this, is me, signing off with this little poem, which will make sense to few. At least it does to me.

Adieu, adieu, adieu!
We'll miss you, Radley Boo,
You've been wronged,
and been miscast;
But all of that,
is in the Past.
Go on ahead, make a life,
No more worries, no more strife.
Speak out and you'll be heard,
No longer the caged mockingbird.
Go! Do the thing you wanna do,
Adieu, Boo, Adieu!

Quick Brown Fox, eh?

2008-03-29T06:34:00.002+05:30

Remember, no quick brown fox is agile enough for a leap. And while we are at it, let me also tell you that Jackdaws have no romantic (or otherwise) interest whatsoever in any Gigantic Crystalline Animal-Deity.

Alt: Fox no Brown. Fox no Jump. Dog no Lazy. (P.S. : Fox no Quick too!)

Also Alt: (The conformist view) Exemplary Wizened Vicars Jump The Queue For The Kind God Above

For Mel, or someone like her ...

2008-03-20T14:47:00.004+05:30

There are good times, and then there are worse ones. There have been times when I have been lonely, forgotten, sad, desperate and depressed. There have been times when I have lost the will to do anything. There have been times when I have just let life slip past me.

And yet I am still here.

I am still here, because of a certain way I have been made. That tells me something about me. That tells me something about what I am capable of achieving, about what I am capable of doing but not realizing it just as yet. That tells me, I am.

But still, am I really all that I am? No. Because even in this higher sense of existence, I can feel that there is a spark that keeps me alive. There is a ray that shines through even the darkest of troubles, the deepest of chasms, and keeps me willing. Willing to breathe, willing to be. This spark, this ray doesn’t come from within. It comes from without.

It’s you.

It’s you, or maybe it’s just what I believe you are. It’s a concept that’s you. Or maybe it’s a concept which has your face. I wonder if it matters, but still it is your face I see. That tells me something. About me, about you. For now, I would like to believe it’s really you. I’d like to believe, because that’s how I live. We all live for a belief. And this, is my belief.

Closer, Farther ...

2008-03-15T06:52:00.004+05:30

A not-so-random thought ...

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear to be; objects not in the mirror are farther than they appear to be.

Expounding this thought will go a long way ... hope I complete this article soon. More on this when we return!

Lights, Camera, Action!

2008-02-19T20:27:00.001+05:30

All that my life is missing right now ...
... is a soundtrack.

Teree Kavitaa, Meree Kavitaa

2008-02-07T18:11:00.000+05:30

७ फरवर २००८। माँ का जन्मदिन। ब्लॉगर पर मेरी पहली हिन्दी रचना।
माँ, तुम्हारे लिए...

तेरी कविता, मेरी कविता
पहला दूध, पहला खाना, पहली मिठाई।
पहली सहेली. बड़ी बहन. छोटी बहन।
तेरी कोख, तेरी गोद, तेरा आँचल।
तेरी पुचकार, तेरी थपकी, तेरी खुशबू।
तेरी पायल, तेरी बिंदी, तेरी साड़ी।
छ्न्न छन्न, खन्न खन्न, तेरी आहट।
तेरी मुस्कान, तेरी खुशी, मेरी खुशी।
तेरी आवाज़, तेरी लोरी, मेरी नीँद।

मेरा ग़म, तेरी बेचैनी, मेरा ग़म।
तेरा ग़म, मेरी बेचैनी, तेरा ग़म।
मेरी खुशी, तेरी खुशी, हमारी खुशी।
मेरी किस्मत, तेरी किस्मत, हमारी किस्मत।

मेरा झूठ, तेरी डाँट, तेरे आँसूं।
तेरे आँसूं, तेरा विश्वास. मेरा दुर्भाग्य।
तेरी माफी, तेरा प्यार, मेरा जीवन।
तेरा बेटा, मेरी माँ।

Laying Some Demons to Rest

2008-02-03T04:52:00.000+05:30

I recently noticed a couple of blogs I have started on my blogger account. This post is primarily to list 'em out and have a retrospection on when/why they were made. Here we go.

1. SaumyäSæz
[http://saumyajain.blogspot.com/] : This is my blog-a-la-originale. The authentic, the real McCoy, the right_from_the_horse's_mouth blog. I like to call it "My Rant". It has everything one could possibly know about me, or rather, at least everything I would let the world know about me. 81 posts including this one. The one that people know about, the one that I advertise. The one, that I write on. The one, that is me.

2. L.o.v.e.s.m.i.t.t.e.n.s.v.i.l.l.e
[http://luvbitten.blogspot.com/] : Once upon a time there was a guy who was smitten with love. Unreturned love. Or so he thought. Or so he did not. And thus he ended up bitten in love. This was supposed to be a "(s)pit-of-venom blog". Something to pour out, to vent out the anger, the inadequacy, the failure, the fall, the times, the promises, the quirkiness, the reality. It still has only one post. It will always have only one post. A post that I regret. A post that I shall never delete. Just to remind me never to write something like that again. Maybe, I guess, till I "fall" again.

3. A 100 days of solitude
[http://alifeinexile.blogspot.com/] : I will reproduce the only post this blog has, here.

Sunday, August 5, 2007
"An exile?"
"Yes."
"How? You are still around people you know."
"Yes, that is true. In physical terms, yes."
"Then?"
"Hmm... Well, it is an exile. Let's just leave it at that."

Akshay gives me a quizzical look. I smile back.

The idea to launch this blog came upon me a day before I wrote the luvbitten blog. It is after spewing out the spit of venom that I decided to end my 100 days of solitude on Day-2 itself. I realised that I was not ready for it then. A hundred days of solitude were meant as an experience to "grow", not to grow ugly and hateful. Thus ended my hundred days of exile, and so did the blog. (and so began my "Alter-Exile") But, unlike the "spit of venom blog", this is not a closed file. I know I shall come back to this again, although in very different circumstances and a totally different mindset. One day I shall be ready. It is then that I shall return to the blog, and to a hundred days of solitude, and hopefully, to a life in exile, away from "all this". What's "all this"? You'll know. Soon enough.

4. Posts on Love and Freedom, and Related Stuff :D
[http://luvandfreedom.blogspot.com/] : As the title says. This is for posts on Love, Freedom and Related Stuff. Hahahahah! Basically, it started out as an outlet for appreciating the finer things in life. It was there to remind me that I was not the only enlightened mind writing about human emotions. There have been lesser mortals before me who have succeeded in capturing intense emotions and packed them in words, mostly poetry. Basically, a place where I posted others' compositions centered around the strongest of human emotions, love and freedom. Sadly, given my age and circumstance, it boiled down to love more than freedom at that time, and soon I got so entangled with love that I actually stopped thinking about freedom, and if that was not enough, my posts on love too went on to merge with my rant blog, and so this blog became parched. I guess its time to renew this blog, now that my alter-exile is also over. And what better a post than Faiz's "Mujhse pehli si muhabbat mere mehboob na maang"

5. Science and Technology Council IITK
[http://scitech-iitk.blogspot.com/] : Originally meant as a General Secretary (I was "that" once, :D) writing about his council in IITK, I guess it had one discussion and everyone soon forgot about it. Maybe because it was seen as a propaganda thingy back then. It was an honest attempt to bring in some people to life. I guess IITK was not ready back then. With lately my intent of doing something crazy with the IITK junta having found a supporting voice with Arvind Kothari, the currently outgoing PREJIDENT SAAHIB ;), I guess this blog may be used to complete a much awaited discourse on "What ails IITK" and also in the future, become a platform for my thoughts about Science and Technology as well as my days of being the "Scitech-Oh Seven" in IITK, the time and place where I gained, lost, learnt, became, befooled, did, undid, follied, jollied ... myself. All by myself.

6. The Techkriti Blog
[http://techkriti-ohseven.blogspot.com/] : "Wake me up when Techkriti Ends" ... This was Rakshit's status message. Techkriti was the brand, Oh Seven was the catchline, Us, the salesmen. I am absolutely immodest when it comes to this. It was THE Techkriti. Honest to God, great intentions without any fear of what will happen. For most of the people, where it was "just another tech fest", for us it was a matter of life, prestige and passion. Still is. There will be better ones I am sure. But one thing that no one can take away from Oh Seven is, it was the one that started it all. Nanda's Techkriti, to a large extent, inspired us. It was a benchmark. But we had a better base with the participants, and so by the end of it, I can safely say, we made Nanda proud. True, it had its glitches, it had its misses, they all do. I take all responsibility. Truly. I do believe I was the weakest link in the whole chain. BUT, I was also the superglue, heheh. Anyhow, this blog was made around the run up to the fest but soon discarded just like the scitech blog. There is still time before I fill it up with "How-to-organise-a-students-fest" guideline. (I have actually thought of doing so. Call me crazy.)

Aww shucks. This too has become just like all the old ones. Filling me with remorse over all my past life. [life. or something like it ;) ... Now where did I pick that one up from?] Anyhow, I am learning to live with it. I am learning to live with myself. The bottomline is, I am learning. That, I guess, is enough for me.

Have you "fallen" in love ?

2008-01-26T09:31:00.000+05:30

Man falls in love.

Such a simple statement. Such a profound thought.

I mean, he literally "falls" in love. A "man", in love, is a "fallen" creature. Think about it. It does make sense.

My train of thought? Man "falls" in love. Hits the ground ("ground reality", literally) and finds out the true nature of human emotion. He can choose to stay there, down and out, or he may choose to use this experience for the rest of his life, remembering to "rise" from his present state to unheard-of heights.

It is thus not only important but prescribed to fall (face first, given an option) in love once and to hit the ground. It is only then that you will truly become free, for its only then that you will realise how to rise. To rise and to love yourself. To love yourself more than anyone else could love someone and more than anyone could be loved. It is then, that you will really end up being happy.

Have you "fallen" yet?

If you can't return it, just throw it back ...

2007-12-30T15:00:00.000+05:30

Give me back my love, my love.
If you can’t return it, just throw it back
But just don’t keep it with you like that

It’s all that I had that I gave to you
But maybe the meaning did not come through
So now that you don’t need it, just pass it back

It's not meant for a public view
So it wouldn’t suit your showcase
or your mantle-rack

Nor akin a library book overdue
That’s tossed in a corner untold
And lost under heaps
And heaps of memories old.

It is worth a bit more than that
As much as you may not realise
It is worth a man’s dreams, joys, sorrows,
Everything he is at
It is worth a man’s life.

I am without, and so I am not
‘coz I need what you’ve got
So just pass me back my love, my love
You can’t return it, so just throw it back.
But give me back my love, my love
That is one thing I need, to be.

IITK - Book of Institutional Harassment [3:14]

2007-11-20T21:07:00.003+05:30

... and then the powers-that-be said, “and thou shalt hence be known as The Academically Deficient One, and by the instrument of this name thou shalt be treated as a lowly mongrel, and looked upon with suspicion wherever you go or in whatever you do, and any attempt that thee shall strive to make to clear thyself of this name shalt be trodded down upon sans mercy by us who are invested with the clout to do so.”

To Each His Own

2007-10-18T16:37:00.000+05:30

Scene : High Speed Aerodynamics Laboratory, Indian Institute of Technology Kanpur, India
Players : Saumya Jain and Ashish Vashishtha
Mood : SLEEPY!!!

Saumya is working on the computer, fiddling with the Quotations page. Apparently a day to think up something profound. Picks up a Shakespeare quote and puts it across on the blog. It goes something like this...

"It is not important to know who you are, than to have faith in what you can become."

Thus satisfied, he is about to fall asleep on the keyboard when Ashish returns from MT. With an eclectic, jovial and recently-had-something-to-eat mood, Ashish comes and sits next to Saumya. Saumya, beaming from inside at his recently plagiarised quote, points out the verse to his mate.

Ashish looks at it, grows serious, and remarks with a straight face...

"A call-girl is better than a girlfriend."

Silence. Ashish looks at Saumya; Saumya looks at Ashish. They laugh. Period.

P.S : What an anti-climax!

In The Arithmetic of Love ...

2007-10-18T04:51:00.000+05:30

Henry and Melinda - Prologue

"... one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing."

This is a quote by Mignon McLaughlin, and this is the pure essence of Henry and Melinda. More chapters to come along!

The Walk

2007-10-11T04:35:00.000+05:30

HENRY AND MELINDA - Chapter (Minus) Five

The market in old town was an old one, as anyone would guess. It had huge, Roman pillars and a covered space in front of the shops, much akin to Victorian architecture. Legend has it that the town designer had a inclination to include elements of architecture from major world cities in our town, and the municipal corporation five years back had gone on a record digging spree to identify these and utilise this information in adding to the town’s tourist value. As we had entered the central sidewalk of the market, a sign read, in Municipal-speak, “Welcome to Connaught Place, New Delhi, India.” I could not hold a smile back every time I saw one of these boards. It was like travelling to a new city every time I went out to town. We had a Times Square, a Colloseum and even a Sydney Harbour amongst so many others, all in this sleepy town in the middle of nowhere. However, that was beyond the point. We were here, now, going around in circles of the Connaught Circus, the three of us, while the whole world seemed to be moving against us, and she was angry. Yes, we were literally going around in circles for the past half an hour now, without ever reaching an end, or a beginning.

* * * * *

“Don’t you use that tone with me!” she hissed as we walked on. I kept up pace, trying to avoid bumping into someone, “What tone? WHAT TONE?! I am just talking to you. Where did you hear a tone? Oh and by the way, did you listen to what I was saying, or were you just too much worried about the tone?” She was getting angry by the minute, and I couldn’t make out if it was the quick walk or her anger that was making her breath so short. Her anger was still short on the fuse though, “Yeah yeah, I did listen to all that crap. You are an idiot Henry Paige. Billy, tell him he is an idiot and I don’t wanna talk to him.” Billy looked at me, gave me a smirk and said, “Henry, you are an idiot. She aint talking to you. You get that?” “Yea,” I smiled a wry one, just avoiding a protrusion jutting out from the railing along the sidewalk on which all three of us were, umm, walking. Well, no, you couldn’t call it walking; it was more like rushing, although we did not know to where or why. “Tell her I aint wanna talk to her either!” Billy found it very amusing, “Oh you guys! What am I doing here? Don’t drag me into this.” And then Billy saw me winking at him to keep playing on for her sake, so he said in a mechanical tone, “Okay Mel, he doesn’t wanna talk to you either.” He grazed past a burly man who gave him the eye and Billy was like “Oops, sorry!” I thought it was meant for the fatso, but it could also have been for Melinda who was eyeing him with equally bloodshot eyes. She was really angry, and only the Gods above know what I had done to earn that ire from her.

* * * * *

When I had woken up that morning, she was angry, and after a not-so-lovely Sunday breakfast she had called up Billy to “help us out”, and an hour later here we were, in a busy market in a crazy city of this screwball world, walking-on along the sidewalk, at the peak of Sunday, out in the sun, hustling and bustling across this sea of humanity which comes out on a holiday to do exactly the same thing. Walking, frantically trying to keep pace with each other, talking to each other and jostling with the crowd coming from upfront, avoiding as well as revelling in the sights and sounds of this world, and at the same time, discussing something which was so personal to just the two of us. The irony of it all was just too much to come to terms with all of a sudden. But yes, there I was, in the rush of things, sorting out a domestic problem in a place where I could least expect to walk straight, leave alone thinking likewise. My life couldn’t have been more dramatic or more extreme.

And this entire time one thing seemed peculiar. We were walking and it suddenly occurred to me as though all the people were only coming from the front, and it seemed odd. It was as if the three of us had been the only people headed in our direction, with the whole wide world walking to an entirely another tune. Moreover, this sea of humanity that was headed in our direction for the entire last half an hour we had been walking seemed to be surging and fading with time. It had a character of its own, the human wave I mean. It had its heaves and its bows, just like the emotional ups and downs, the pitches of her voice, the gyrations of Billy’s lanky figure to avoid bumping someone and the pace of my crazy walk. There seemed to be some sort of a synchronised dance of nature going on, and the three of us, our emotional states, even the proverbial sea of humanity all seemed to be dancing to it.

* * * * *

Why and how would Billy “help us out” I could not figure that. Billy was “my” friend and as he met Mel and time passed, he became “her” best friend. So much so, that sometimes I felt that she could keep things from me and tell him. Did this disturb me? I would honestly say yes. I am a man, programmed on an 8052 processor or its equivalent, which basically means I am very primitive and laidback. To have someone who is like your soul mate, to confide in your friend rather than yourself is a hard fact to accept. Women call it jealousy. I call it insecurity. Plain, simple and dead honest. It’s insecurity. It tells me, “Dude, she cannot tell you everything. She would choose someone else to open up to.” It makes me feel insecure, and I don’t like it. It doesn’t matter for me whom she chooses, but as long as it is not me, I am worried. Sometimes, I would wonder, how something like this could be explained, but I suppose I had attributed this to the enigmatic nature of ‘woman’kind and the old-fashioned attitude of ‘man’kind, and let that be that. (For women, I believe, have been the products of a CRAY or its computer sibling) So, Mel told me she wanted Billy to come and sort it out for us. Although outlandish the idea seemed to me, I humoured her, knowing perfectly well that Billy knew Mel enough to play on with her little game. And Billy and I knew each other too well. Nothing could disrupt that understanding between me and him.

Billy came and Mel prepared some coffee for him. I was in the other room watching a stand-up comedy show while they chatted in the kitchen. Sometimes, over the sounds of the television I could hear something from her, like a rise of her voice as Mel generally does when she gets too excited, or too angry about something, but I figured that as long as Billy is there, I don’t need to worry about my Mel. If there was anything troubling her, I had gotten her “her best friend” to sort it out for her. I needn’t do anything more. She did not tell me whatever was troubling her anyways. So the only thing I could do to help her out was to give her some space and put Billy on the job. I could watch my TV and forget about the whole episode. She had her medicine, I had mine, I figured. Then a few minutes later Billy came upto me and winked, “Let’s go out Hen'y. We are goin' shoppin'.” Without thinking twice, I put in my overcoat and walked out the door. Mel emerged a little short of two minutes after I had come out, escorted by Billy. I saw her and I lost my heart for the millionth time to the same woman. Oh my, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever known, even when she was in her worst mood. Something told me she was extremely sad, but I did not know what or why. I chose to play the game as she wanted, give her the time she needed, the stuff she needed, and keep a distance from her, near enough to make her feel safe and far enough to have her own space.

* * * * *

Soon, it had started raining, we were still pacing around the merry-go-round of life, with my better half been literally steaming now that she was wet too, and Billy and me keeping pace and shouting at top of our voices to make her hear. But no, Melinda Parker wouldn’t listen. She wasn’t one to listen. She kept ranting on, “Billy he is this …”, “Billy, he is that …”, “Billy, he doesn’t …” and “Billy, he always …”. Billy was as sympathetic as a friend would be, he kept comforting her all along, but no, she did not need comforting. Finally, I could handle it no more. I still don’t know if it was because I was hearing so much of “Billy”, or that I was tired of this game, or that I just had been fed up with all the idioticity, but something tugged at my spine and I spoke up. I spoke up, with such a start that I surprised even myself, while Billy just had to stop a minute and gave me a look of extreme puzzlement. He was like, “No! Henry! Don’t!” But it was too late. My gates had been opened, and they weren’t going to close till I had let it out. A lot of it had been stored away for long and over time it had coagulated and gotten thick. Today it had to come out.

“Billy, am I the only one who is wrong every time? Yes, I am the man around here, and so everything is my responsibility, and I take responsibility for everything Billy, but in the same breath I would daresay that that does not mean it is my fault Billy, let Her Highness know this.” Ah! The irony of Love. I knew perfectly well, and so did she, that we were both comfortably hearing each other, yet neither of us had any reservations about pulling poor Billy in. But I guess, he is her best friend, and if it is her who wants to involve him in this, then I have no qualms about it. I am speaking my mind out, and an audience of two makes no more difference to me than an audience of one. Moreover, a best friend is supposed to help her out, ain’t it so? Billy, heh heh, no running away from it now, I thought.

“Yes, Billy it is indeed his fault. He is such an idiot. God knows what he keeps thinking! He just thinks something up and sticks to it like an adamant kid.” At this, I smiled, and said, “Yes Billy, you see, I am the one being adamant here, and I am the one not letting go of weird notions. I am the one who is being close minded and all that. I am the one who is running around the market seething at Henry Paige for the last forty five minutes without even telling him what my problem is! Yes Billy I am the one who is an idiot!”

Mel's pace quickened, as though she wanted to get away from it all now. The crowd was relentless though. I still had to look over a couple of heads to locate where she was. I caught a glimpse of my angry angel’s face. Her cheeks were wet. It could have been due to the rain. It could have been due to the crying. The sight, and before that, thought that she was crying, stung me out of my anger. I felt an intense hate for myself. No matter what happened, no matter WHATEVER happened, I had told myself long back, those eyes will never cry. They were crying now, and it was my fault, this much I knew. The why hardly mattered over the what. I will not speak any more now, I had decided.

The rain was coming down heavily now and she had lowered her head a bit. I pushed across a few people to be walking just to the left of her as she came out with one final backlash. “Billy,” she continued, “he wouldn’t listen to me even after I have told him the same thing over and over. It’s for his own good, but he doesn’t understand, Billy.” Yes, I knew now what she was talking about. She was worried about me! All along! And yet it had been left up to me to figure this out all along! My, my, my, strange is the logic of Love. Mel’s been furious with me, for me, and it’s me who is the last person to figure it out. Beautiful. “He doesn’t work Billy. He doesn’t work to realise his potential. He gets into needless arguments, weird explanations and funny stories, but doesn’t ever work.” She was so emotional and worked up right now that she did not even realise that Billy wasn’t here with us anymore. He had long been swept away by the crowd. Must have ‘bumped into’ one of his former girlfriends I suppose, heh heh, but yeah it was just me and her and the crowd now.

She went on talking to Billy nevertheless, as I could only feel emotion welling up in me, “Billy why doesn’t he understand, he’s got to work, he’s got to succeed, he means so much to me and still he can’t do that one thing that would make him happy.” I just kept listening and walking along with her. Slowly the thick crowd seemed to dissolve. It was getting thinner and thinner as she poured her heart out. Her volume had gone down, maybe talking so much had tired her out, or maybe she had gotten more relaxed just by letting those emotions out in the open. I kept walking, listening and taking in this beautiful sight of her. Only I knew right now that there was no Billy there, and no crowd left between us. We were alone in the market. The shops were closing early because of the heavy downpour and the marketplace visitors were going back to their homes.

And then, I realised how strangely parallel it was to what we had been experiencing. After all, it was just me and her. No one else mattered. Just me, and her. Billy could only have gone a few hours with us, but after that it was me, and her. The crowd was totally external to the both of us, just me and her. No crowd, no Billy. Me and Her. And she was still walking, talking and I was still walking alongside, looking at the only woman I had ever loved and the only woman I would ever love. She was there, and she was sad, and she was slowing down, and she stopped. All that I had just realised was probably dawning in on her too. She turned around and looked at me. I was right beside her shoulder, the two of us alone, in the market, the rain coming down on us. There was no world to find fault in, no Billy to be used as a stupid excuse to talk to each other. It was just me and her in our silence, and the pitter-patter of the raindrops.

I opened my overcoat. “Melinda, you are soaking, come here.” She looked at me. I was standing there like a lovesick idiot, totally drenched myself, calling out to my beloved, the lapels of my coat opened up for her, just as my heart was at that exact moment. I was looking at her lovely face. No sight of heaven could have been more comforting than what my eyes beheld that moment in the old market of the old town we lived in. “Come, honey, let’s just go home. I am sorry.” At that, Melinda Parker, the love of my life, silently came into my overcoat and took me in an embrace. Her wet cheek touched my collar, a little to the left, and I could feel its warmth reach deep up to my heart.

* * * * *

Toh Phir Aao ...

2007-09-21T07:28:00.000+05:30

Here's a song I absolutely loved!!! Everything's just perfect : The Music, The Mood, The Voice, The Aura it creates. Everything is spot on!

The lyrics are by Sayeed Quadri and it is sung by Mustafa Zahid of the Pakistani Band ROXEN. A couple of versions of the song are floating around. One is the version that was used in the movie, it is slow and oh-my wonderful. Some sources quote Mithoon being involved in the movie version. However, some are remixes, going by the name of The Lounge Mix, and DJ Suketu's Mix and another remix version by ROXEN itself. The ROXEN remix version has totally different lyrics but its like an extension to the same song.

I have pieced together the lyrics of my favourite version of the song, which is the Suketu version. The song is put up at my esnips directory, and I've put the link here for those who have an esnips login. For those who don't, try searching youtube or proceeed to Legal Disclaimer. [ Legal Disclaimer : If you like this song, then you must must must buy the whole album ;) ] In the end, I have attempted a corresponding English equivalent of the mood. Its not a translation though. Let's see if the readers like it.

Ok, enough crap, here's the goods.

Category : Bollywood Movie OST
Movie/Album : Awaarapan (2007)
Singer : Mustafa Zahid
Lyrics : Sayeed Quadri
Version : Remix by DJ Suketu
Audio : Link

Toh Phir Aao

Aa Bhi Jaao - (7)
Ho Ho Ho ...

Dil Badal Banein
Aankhein Behne Lagein
Aahein Aise Uthein, Jaise Aandhi Chalein

Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao
Aa Bhi Jaao - (7)

Gham Le Ja Tere
Jo Bhi Tune Diye
Ya Phir Mujhko Bata, Inko Kaise Sahein

Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao
Aa Bhi Jaao - (7)

Ho Ho Ho ...

Ab To Iss Manzar Se,
Mujhko Chale Jana Hai
Jin Raahon Pe Mera Yaar Hai, Un Raahon Ko Mujhe Paana Hai

Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao
Aa Bhi Jaao - (7)

And, here's the ROXEN version. It is like an appendix to the song above. It seems to pick up the theme from the middle, out of nowhere, but the effect that produces is tooooo good!

Version : ROXEN Remix
Audio : Link

Toh Phir Aao

Toh Phir Aao MujhKo Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao

Hum Rahein na Rahain
Gham Sahein na Sahain
Shaamein Dhalein na Dhalain
Ye Raatein Katein na Katain

Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao

Aa bhi Jaao -(7)

Hum Rahein na Rahain
Dil ki Sunein na Sunain
Ye Toofan Thamay na Thamay
Ye Aansoo Rukey na Rukain

Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulao

Aa bhi Jaao -(7)

Guitar Strings at this point - AWESOME!!!

Sapnon Kay Samandar Mein
Doobtay Chaley Jaana Hai
In Raahoon mein jo Khwaab hain
Un Khwaaboon ko Mujhey Paana hai

Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao

Aa bhi Jaao -(7).

Tech Update : Oh My God! Getting the links to work in this post was one helluva job! See, the problem was like this. The audio files I upload are on a service called esnips, and it is a neat and clean place to upload stuff for internet access, so I prefer it. Now here's the trash. When I upload a media file on esnips, they give me a sharing link that is a "page" (for example like this) for the uploaded file which has he feature that the file starts streaming in a "Windows Media Player" plugin right there from your browser.

In short, they don't give away the direct link to the MP3 file, which, from their viewpoint is a good business policy, because by doing that they are making users to spend more time on THEIR interface. BUT, but, but ... WHAT IF your browser doesn't have the WMP plugin (like mine!)? My Firefox browser didn't have the fricking plugin and so couldn't stream the file directly. Though it continued to download in the background, i.e. by some strange process, if I waited long enough on the page for the WHOLE file to download (that's like 10 MB!!!) then it invoked my preferred browser player (as per my MIME settings) to playback the file to me.

Now this was INCONVENIENT, because, you, the reader would never know that you WILL have to have the WMP plugin, and unfortuately if you don't, then you wouldn't dream up that the whole file would be downloading in the background. You'll just click on the link, it won't work, you'll exhale/murmur/shout out expletives on me, and that's that. Not only are you deprived of the song, but I get abused for nothing. Henh!

Soooo, I spent the last couple of hours to get this workaround wherein I had to go through the source code of the esnips page, and do some javascript tweaking (which by my standards, is HEAVY programming, the noobie that I am, hehheh) and rackling my brains out, and the closest I got to a solution was an idea which involved mimicking the esnips player through the javascript code. BUT THAT'S NOT WHERE THE STORY ENDS. As soon as I published the post, BLOGGER didn't accept the javascript code!!!

Boo to Blogger for this, and I think the persistent ones of you would rather look up Youtube for a song, or sign-up for esnips. However sucky it may be, it still gives you a place on the web to upload files. Heh, heh! Upto you. My ahnds are up in surrender!!!

Oh well, I guess the English version of the song can wait. I am too exhausted to work on this anymore right now. =) =(

What went wrong?

2007-09-20T13:41:00.000+05:30

HENRY AND MELINDA - Chapter Zero.

Henry had lunch in the district court premises itself. As he was climbing down the steps of the old, Victorian building, having just been legally declared single again by a piece of paper and an old, tight lipped man who knew nothing about who he was, who "they" had been or what had gone wrong, he saw her wave to him from a tree shade near the parking lot.

Why now?, he thought. Why NOW? Isn't it over? Why now? It hasn't even been an hour! She still wants to talk? What is left to talk about after all this? He had avoided looking at her all through the proceedings, as she had avoided looking at him, they had let their lawyers take up their cases and strangle out whatever little life must have been left of their bond. He was still thinking all this, when instinctively his hand waved back at her. If this was not enough, his lips betrayed him into a smirk. She smiled back warmly.

As he stepped down the last step, she had crossed the lot and was there in front of him. She opened her arms and they hugged, and he could already feel an alienness in her, she was not his anymore. He felt awkward at touching her, hugging her, even looking at her. She is now a stranger to me, he reasoned and accepted his quirky behaviour thus.

She looked deep into his eyes and asked, "What went wrong Henry?" He just gazed at her, astounded that she could even ask him this question, amazed at her naivette and enraged at her neglect. Doesn't she know? Or maybe she genuinely didn't. Oh well, if she doesn't know, then maybe she doesn't deserve to know as well. He just gazed at her for as long as he could remember. She could gather that Henry would not be answering her question. They both wandered into each others eyes for what seemed like eternity, each hoping to get a glimpse of the other's soul. He, inquiring the nature of the query as a genuine one or a mockery of what they had just ended; She, trying to get an answer to her question and in the absence of it, a reason for the same.

Henry dropped his bag to break the silence. They were back into the world. He bent down, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pink sandals for one last time that he wanted to, collected his papers, stood up, looked at her curtly for one last time and said, "See you Melinda. Goodbye." And he walked up to his car and drove away. Melinda, looked at the cloud of dust of the departing car, sighed, and muttered to herself, "You should have answered that Henry, if not for me, then for yourself. You should have answered that."

That night Melinda got a note delivered to her house. It said not much, but she knew from the handwriting that it was from him. It went something like this ... "You know when I went away this afternoon, I thought, I should have answered that question. If not for you, then at least for myself I should have answered that question." Melinda smiled to herself, remembering what she had said that afternoon when Henry had gone away. Yes, little, unimportant, human, social differences will never ever change the fact that she and Henry were as close as it came to soul mates. Nothing could change how similar they would think or react to situations. It was reacting to one another, though. where they surprised themselves. Anyhow, she continued to read ... "Yes Melinda, something went wrong. I was seeing it all along, and maybe it was my mistake that I took it as another of your childish idiosyncracies and ignored it. I did have it in my mind for a long time and yes, I DID tell you on multiple occasions, but maybe you were not listening properly or I was not telling it right. You wanna know what went wrong, Melinda? I know what went wrong. It was honesty. Honesty went wrong. I was more honest than I should have been, and you were just not. Honesty went grossly wrong with us Melinda. I was bad for too much of it, and you were worse for too little. That is all.
-Love(?), Henry."

saummy's back!

2007-09-18T00:56:00.000+05:30

saummy's back, and back for good.

wayy back down the annals of old father time, there was a guy, studying, slogging it out for prestige. there was a saumya jain who did not care who or what. emotions was not what he was carved out for. pure performance, impeccable perfection was all he knew, and all he cared for was his goal and the means to achieve it.

soon, it changed. he fucked up.

he started noticing people around him. people with selves, with hopes, aspirations, with dreams. he started respecting that. he started learning that people need to be taken care of, attended to, loved. he started to love them. he started to see to it that they felt important. that their egos got tingled every now and then. people like that you know. he fell in love. with the whole of humanity. yes, he fell in love. with that one girl who meant the life to him. was it love? he still doesn't know. but whatever it was, it changed him, nurtured him for well over four years and brought out a side to him that he never knew he had. did it really nurture him? or was it him who was nurturing this idiotic farce that he thought was love? he had become vulnerable, he had become weak, he was pitying himself for the first time in his two decades of existence.

and then it happened again. things changed. he fucked up again.

he was never a change-happy guy. that part of his personality, ironically, had been the same since his childhood. he screwed up whenever things changed. he had the capability of screwing everything up BIGTIME. things that weren't even related to the change, got fucked up at his hands. he had lost everything once more. everything. and he went back in a shell. from his recluse he could see everyone bubbling around, moving on with their lives. he hated himself, hated the world. he hated and hated and hated. and then he slept.

he slept the whole of summers away.

it was a summer hibernation. he went to the point of no return and stay put. in his sleep, he could listen people coming up to him and try to waken him up. he wanted to, but couldn't. and then one fine day, he met a flock of angel-sisters. some of them seemed familiar, some of them were strangers. he reached out to touch them. they opened up to him. they told him their stories, as he told them his. as he heard about their pain, he realised what an ignorant fool he had been all this time. what he had was no pain at all. it was his own undoing that was lashing back at him all this time. saummy knew now what he had to do. he woke up and started working. from the depths of his heart saummy felt thankful to the angel-sisters. they had shown him how to feel love and still not corrupt his mind.

he was back.

A Quote pour Moi!

2007-09-04T13:06:00.000+05:30

"He is a man of letters, but not a man of his word" ;) Heh heh heh!!!

RKN ki Guide!

2007-09-03T23:34:00.000+05:30

(Pre Script : This is my first attempt at dissecting a book. Please be soft on me.)

Okay, so I named it just like RGV ki AAG :) but that's where comparisons, and comedy, stops.

The Guide as a book was an exquisite piece of fiction, and the movie kept match. Well, if you haven't read the book or watched the movie, I suggest read the book first and then watch the movie. The book takes us through the life of a boy-turns-man-turns-saint and his adventures as a guide, a lover, a hoodwink, and finally as a person.

The portrayal of characters is as real as it can get. There are no black or white characters, they are all just human, having their own shares of fallibilities, weaknesses and villiany as well as our keep of fame, money and power. The protagonist, while on one hand is a gentleman, a passionate person with a zeal for life, and who also finally puts up his very survival at stake for what he himself at a point thought of as a stupid superstition. A Hero? But Wait! At the same time, he is also in love with another man's woman, elopes with her and then even lives off her talents. It even seems that he made money by cheating her in business!

The book shows us the nature of humanity. No one's proverbially 'good' and no one's proverbially 'bad'. Rosie, the woman, is a dancer. She uses her womanly charms to catch hold of this smart guide and gets rid of her old husband to whom she is supposed to be avowed for seven births. She gets him to leave his mother, gets him to make her famous, and when he has done that, wants him to go back to the old days. Aren't we all like that?

We strive for progress. We toil for success. And once we have it, we reminisce about the "good old relaxed days". Why is it so? I could not figure it out. The book told me a lot of things that showed me that it IS so, but the cause eluded me. For a long time, I pondered over this question. And then I found the answer, or at least something that left me with some sort of satisfaction. I still haven't gotten the "Why" but just read on what I got, and you'll know why the "why" doesn't bother me anymore.

Oddly enough, the solution (or something like it, as I have already mentioned) came from the movie version of the book. Its a song that the movie opens with, and here are the lyrics. I would like to try an English version of it, but till then, let's just keep it to this itself.

Wahaan kaun hai tera, musaafir, jaayega kahaan?
Dam lele ghadi bhar, ye chhaiyaan, paayega kahaan?

Beet gaye din, pyaar ke palchhin,
Sapna bani woh raaten...
Bhuul gaye woh, tu bhi bhula de,
Pyaar ki woh mulaaqaaten.
Sab door andhera, musaafir jaayega kahaan?

Koi bhi teri, raaha naa dekhe,
Nain bichhaaye naa koi...
Dard se tere, koi naa tadpa
Aankh kisi ki naa royi.
Kahe kisko tu meraa, musaafir jaayegaa kahaan?

Ho musaafir, tu jaaye-gaa kahaan?

Kahate hai gyaani, duniya hai faani,
Paani pe likhi likhaayi...
Hai sabki dekhi, hai sabki jaani,
Haath kisike naa aayi.
Kuchh teraa naa meraa, musaafir jaayegaa kahaan?

This was sung by S. D. Burman in his oh-my voice. Here's a video link.
Yeah, so that was that. I don't know if I made a lot of sense, but heck, it makes sense to me. :)

Tongue-in-cheek?

2007-09-02T01:47:00.000+05:30

Aloo ke paranthe.
Tawa Pizza.
Mooli ki bharwa roti.
Butter Toast.
Daal Baati.
Moong ki daal ki khichdi.
Makhani Daal.
Dahi Bhalle.
Besan ka Chilla.
Aate ka halwaa.
Thanda Mathha.
Sem ki sabzi.

Aaye Haaye.

I'm at home, and my tummy is in tummy heaven. :)
The tongue can't leave the cheek though!

Was it you?

2007-08-14T04:50:00.001+05:30

Was it you or was I dreaming?

***

the late phone call at night
the stupid idiotic worthless fight

the million lines of online chat
talking about anything, everything, this n that

and then came the time, the first meeting
seeing you was enough, the rest was fleeting

the one when i became deaf and dumb
you saw me trembling, actually i was numb!

the bangles and the sarees, all that too,
was i dreaming or was it really you?

***

it wasn't you, now i have known
everything was a dream, all of my own

it was a picture that i had drawn
it was a dream that is now gone

it was a silly heart and a stupid man
doing and thinking only what stupid things can

its not your fault, you never knew
heh 'cause for me "you" were not you

from the outside, in the mold you fitted right in
but the silly me forgot to look within

you weren't her, umm maybe close
but just not her, the one that i chose

that doesnt send the real you any afar
you're a wonderful girl just as you are

but i'm a simple man and thus i opine
couldn't want something that was never mine

it wasn't you, i was dreaming all along
and then i heard the Pope singing his song

"How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind;
Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned"

the reverie is over, the dream is gone
but just don't yet talk about moving on.

The Change.

2007-08-03T22:03:00.000+05:30

When we are young, we have dreams.
When we are young, the world's a beautiful place.
When we are young, we have a future.
When we are young, we believe in peace, in honesty, in ideals, in love.

and then ... we grow up.

From the 90s and still there.

2007-08-02T11:49:00.000+05:30

I am a retro.
I grew up in the 90s.
A good part of me still lives in those times. No matter how much I try to keep pace with the times, I am stuck!

Wanna know why? Here's 50 reasons, in no particular order...

1. The never ending mythical cultural dose of Mahabhaaaarat, Ramayana, Shri Krishna, well maybe even Alif Laila on DD1

2. Oh yes and talking about DD1 ... Surabhi, Tehkikaat, Byomkesh Bakhshi, Nukkad, Circus, Hum Log, Chanakya, Shanti, Swabhimaan and the Saturday waali fillum and the Sunday shaam waali fillum.

3. Do I hear more? Yeah, DD2, the Superhit Muqabla, the Rangoli, the Chitrahaar, the video "albums", the non-stop 24 hour channel, the Govinda and Rajnikant movies, the Regional language films, the late night English flicks from the 70s, the NFDC art films! Heck even the "Munna zara paas ki dukaan se namak toh le aa" (IODISED NAMAK campaign), "ORS ka ghol", "Mile sur Mera Tumhaara", "Ek Titli, Anek Titiliyaan"

4. The Kiddie specials - Talespin, Duck Tales, Tom and Jerry at 7:00 a.m., Guchha, Daanu Danasur, Alladin, Disney Hour, Alice in Wonderland (Tap tap topi topi topi jo duube), Potli baba ki, Mulla Nasruddeen :)

5. Taking "money" to school to buy Crax from the DPS-EOK canteen, making a very long face in case you lost the money, and trying to explain how you would make up for it.

6. Watching jingles like : Washing Powder Nirma ... , Lifebuoy hai jahan ... , Bol Sakhi Bol tera raaz kya hai ;) ... , Humaara Bajaj ... , Vicco Turmeric nahin Cosmetic ... , Babool babool paise wasool ... , Dhoondte reh jaaoge ... , Joote mein hai light ... , Hum do humaare do ... , Melody khaao khud jaan jaao ... , Coffee or toffee ... , Maggi hot and sweet tomato "chilli" sauce, its different ... , Jab main chhota bachcha tha ... , Asli masaale sach sach ... , Liril girls ... , Lux adverts ... , Haan bhai haan, Coldarin li? ... , Saatth saal ke boodhe ya saatth saal ke jawaan? ... , Raju tumhaare daant toh motiyon jaise chamak rahe hain ... , Bhala usski saaree meree saree se safed kaise? ... ,

7. The aampapad/chooran waala who used to sit in front of the school gate. Or the Kwality icecream waala, hey even the Kwarly or Quality icecream waala. And how can one forget the 2 rupees ki kulfi.

8. When V.P (Singh) caused a nationwide bandh (Mandal Riots) and then P.V. (Narasimha Rao) took over and got us a stable government. What the heck, did we even care? ... Economic Liberalisation by the sardar uncle in the Blue pagdi (Manmohan Singh) whom Papa and Joshi uncle would ardently listen to every March for some strange discussions on "budget"

9. Speaking of budget, Ma and Papa writing their daily hisaab at night and doing the books to see how to plan for our bright future.

10. The Cricket World cup of 1996, the Eden Gardens burning, Kambli crying ... Azhar, Kapil, Sachin ... Match fixing, Cronje getting killed, oh man!

11. Nasnal eleksons, all the time, post PVNR ... I.K. Gujral, Hardhanhalli Dodde Deve Gowda (I memorised this one for my GK exam) ... Pa and Ma proudly showing off the black tickmarks on their fingernails everytime they voted (and probably it was all the time) ... Photo Voter I Cards.

12. A time when a telephone in your house was a luxury. Oh and wait, there was these long queues at the local STD-PCO after 9:00 to talk to my Nanaji in Kanpur or Tauji in Muzaffarnagar.

13. Knowing the mohalla waalaas as "16 wali aunty" and "17 waali aunty" ... "Roorkee waale tauji", "Modinagar waali buaji" ... "Pinky didi" ... "Bittoo bhaiyya"

14. School "picnic" to Lodi Garden or Humayun's tomb. Planning in advance and ending up just rolling down the slopes. Or Maybe Appu Ghar, Delhi Zoo, Or the National Science Center, Rail Museum, Bal Bhavan, Shankar's Library, Doll's Museum.

15. Chacha Chaudhary, Billoo, Pinky, Saboo, Raman, Channi Chachi.

16. Manorama, Sarita (with Shrimatiji) and Grihashobha (Bunai special) and then Ma became "mod" so Women's Era. Heh heh heh ... and then "we" grew up a bit so, adieu to Champak, Nandan, Nahe Samrat, Balhans and hello to Cine Blitz and Filmfare. Super Commando Dhruv and Nagaraj stayed, though.

17. Endless games of scrabble with Ma, Pa, me and Joshi uncle. Loads of board games with KJ, I DO mean LOADSSSSS! Still have more than 20 games saved.

18. Garmiyon ki holidays!!! Chhutti chhutti and Tarramtoo on DD, Nani ke ghar ki trip (Sleeper class mein half ticket, hahaha!), last week mein holiday homework!

19. Cricket with the muhalla. Fighting for batting, and then howling when getting out ... and then when all else failed ... threatening to go away 'coz the bat was mine :)

20. Making charts for the class board, giving the thought for the day or the news in the morning assembly, then later on debates, declamations, quizzing, clay modelling, "spring house" prefect, bombs going away in school toilets, class monitors, forgetting the tie in the assembly, nail size checks and duster waali punishment, "go stand at the back of the class", and oh yes ... moral science classes!

21. And yes ... Vinod reminds me ... sex education ... reading the agony aunt, vyaktigat samasyaaein, "sharmaayein nahi humse poochhein" (Thanks to Vivek for this!) etc. columns of newspaper to expand our sexual knowledge, chhup chhup ke :)

22. On the same note ... a short skirt was a treat to the eyes, a mini skirt on TV and ma would cover your eyes, and a bikini was blasphemy! Beyond that, we couldn't even imagine!!! Our share of titillation? Karishma Kapoor singing "sexy sexy sexy mujhe log bolein" in skimpy nothings ... Govinda crooning "meri pant bhi sexy" with his gyrations, et cetera. ... oh and how can I forget ... Madhuri (the queen of seething hearts) and her "choli ke peechhe" uproar! For the real perverted guys, there was the morning show listing on the Hindi newspaper, while the classy ones like me preferred "watching" Delhi Times (oh once an NIE volunteer told us ... everyone "watches" DT, no one "reads" it ... that is the way it is to be used). By the way, just for the ones who are interested, DT started out as a Tuesday supplement, then gradually from a 2-day to 4-day it became a regular, remember? :)

23. Stapoo, Pitthoo, Chhupan Chhupaai, Pakdam Pakdaai, Vish-amrit, Four corners, beech ka bichhoo, Chain-chain, Tennis ball se football khelna, "Jab miss mary chhoti thi toh unki aadat aaise thi...", "Das patte tode ek patta kachcha...", "Posham pa bhai posham pa, lal quile mein kya hua?...", "I sent a letter to my father, on the way i dropped it ...",

24. Saanp seeddhi, Ludo, 3-2-5, Rummy, Laad, Patte-pe-patta, Rang-mila-le-rang, Business, The Game of Life

25. Maggi, Thums up, Citra, Gold Spot, 7UP, Canada Dry, Tawa pizza, Brown Bread, Mother Dairy ke doodh ke sikke, Wimpys, Nirulas, Nice Biscuits, Monaco,

26. Aishwarya, Sushmita, Aamir, Shahrukh. On another level there was Sunny, Sanjay and Salman, Akshay. Babes? Karishma, Raveena, Rambha, Ramya, Divya Bharati (and her sudden death) ... Goddess? Madhuri.

27. Paras, Odeon, Priya, Amba, Regal.

28. Alaknanda, Kalkaji, Tara Apartments, Lajpat Nagar, Palika Bazaar, South Ex.

29. Maruti 800, Maruti Gypsy, Maruti 1000, Maruti Zen, Maruti Esteem. All Maruti. Or maybe the FIAT Padmini and the 118NE, Ambassador and Nova.

30. Then ... Santro and Matiz!

31. He-man, GI Joes, Trump Cards, Barbie doll sets, Hot Wheels!

32. The weekly movie that used to play at 16-waali-aunty's "imported" VCR and the whole of the mohalla's aunties with their chunnus and munnus sitting round to watch.

33. Janmashtami ki jhaankis made by all the didis and bhaiyyas of the neighbourhood.

34. Clandestine love affairs between the same didis and bhaiyyas of the mohalla, one of them even had a marriage :)

35. Aaloo ke papad and aam ke achaar being put out to ferment in the sun.

36. Pakistani plays on Mamaji's VCP, which he had got in "dahej" when he married my beautiful Mamiji.

37. The joint family met at least once a year. Every year played witness to more than 3 marriages (of my cousins or someone!) Every marriage used to go on for weeks, and it would mean meeting up my cousins and loads of comics and chocolates! and Gende ke phool ki fights, gende ke phool ka cricket match, sleeping with cousins on terraces, Bittoo bhaiyya ki ragging ke kisse, Chunnu bhai ki kahaaniyaan, Nishu ki girlfriends, ha ha ha!!!

38. Sans shopping malls, the only places we bought our clothes were from Chunmun, Ritu wears, Snowhite or Shyam's. The only places we did go to eat was Sagar and the likes ... we had pet shops for all purchases ... and the major ration used to be bought from Khari Baoli in Old Delhi.

39. It was a time when everything was semi-automatic ... Refrigerators that required defrosting through the little red button, Washing machines that saw mom wrestling and jostling out all over the house with clothes ... In fact, even now, years later since she has gotten herself an automatic front loading version, she still plays out her old schedule everytime the clothes are laundered.

40. A microwaves oven, a personal computer, a dining table, a new bed, a fully automatic fridge, a water purifying system other than the ceramic-candle-filter, were all items that were put on the wishlist every year and then were pushed down in priority because of other pressing expenditures, like children's clothing, children's books, children's fees, children's savings. We really owe it to our folks for what we are. They missed out on the best years of their lives so that we could enjoy ours.

41. Suraj Kund ka mela!

42. Begging and crying for a T.V. Video Game on my 9th birthday. Exchanging cartridges with friends. Endless Tennis, Mario, Street fighter and Spartan bouts. Oh, and Double Dragon and Contra!

43. Back to DD. Forgot to add the ones that we never watched. The UGC programs, the Akhil Bhartiya something something which showed classical dance and music, Krishi Darshan, National News (Papa was the only one who watched it). And the ones we did ... Turning Point, Living on the Edge, The World This Week, Kya aur Kaise. Once again, the first ever TV soap for children ... Hint? "Jungle jungle baat chali hai pata chala hai ... chaddi pehen ke phool khila hai phool khila hai!"

44. "Chandrakaanta (ting a ding)... ki kahaani (dham!) ... yeh maana (ting a ding) ... hai puraani (dham!) ... yeh puraani (ting a ding) ... hokar bhi (ting!) ... badi lagti (ting a ding) ... hai suhaani (dham!) ... sorry people this thing warranted a special place! So did Krur Singh and Shikha Swaroop (who has been immortalised in this role, coz this is the only one she ever did!!!)

45. The Pragati Maidaan fairs ... World Book Fair, World Trade Fair - toys section, books sections, food section!

46. Kumar Sanu, Anuradha Paudwaal, Udit Narayan, Mohd. Aziz, Alka Yagnik, Kavita Krish.

47. That reminds me of "Yeh aakaashvaani hai, abhi studio ki ghadi mein shaam ke aath bajkar chhabbees minute ho rahe hain. Abhi abhi aapne Manju Sharma se hindi ke samachaar sune..." and "...geet gaaya hai Kumar Sanu aur Anuradha Paudwal ne, bol hain Sameer ke aur sangeet Anand Milind ka hai" and "Yeh hai VIVIDH BHARATI!" ... Speaking of which, those little Transistors which everyone used to glue to their ears, especially when a cricket match was being aired. AIR rocked!

48. Katti-Abba :)

49. Dekh Bhai Dekh and Zabaan Sambhaal Ke. Street Hawk and Knight Rider. I Dream of Jeannie and Bewitched.

50. "Teri Chopsy ho gayi!" :)

I could go on and on with this one. Haven't even started out on the Zee TV programs and the Star Plus with its humble beginnings, heh.

Too high on nostalgia right now to continue rambling. If there is ANNYTHING you feel I have missed out ... continue the list on the scrapbook!

Adios!

Commemorating today.

2007-07-25T04:47:00.000+05:30

Impulsive writing can bring forth a lot of things. Here's some of it.

दुनिया से जब नाराज़ होने क बहाना ना रहा
आजकल खुद ही से गोया परेशान हूँ मैं

जिसके आँसूओं का सैलाब भी सूख गया हो
ऐसा ही एक खंडहर-ओ-वीरान हूँ मैं

खुद पर भी अब किस हद तक तरस करूँगा
अपने ही ग़मों की जीती जागती खान हूँ मैं

जिस शहर में चलती थी कसमें मेरे ईमान की
उसी शहर में आजकल बदनाम हूँ मैं

ज़िन्दगी से हारे हुए बहुत देखे होंगे तुमने
मौत से हारा हुआ पहला इंसान हूँ मैं

जिन कूचों से निकला था काफिला मेरे जश्न का
उन्हीं गलियों में अब अंजान हूँ मैं

मगर इस बात का गुमान आज भी है ...

मिटाने से भी जो नहीं छूटेगा तुम्हारे दामन से
ऐसा ही एक बेगैरत निशान हूँ मैं

Kabhi Kabhi

2007-07-14T05:18:00.000+05:30

This is the original version of the sher by Sahir Ludhiyanvi that inspired the beautiful rendition of one of the most heart rending verses I have heard lately.

(Note : A self-attempted glossary follows for words in blue)

Kabhi Kabhi

Kabhi Kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai
ke zindagi teri zulfon ki narm chhaon mein
guzarne pati to shadaab ho bhi sakti thi
ye tiragi jo mere zeest ka muqaddar hai
teri nazar ki shuaaon mein kho bhi sakti thi

ajab na tha ke main begaana-ilm hokar
tere jamaal ki raynaaiyon mein kho rehta
tera gadaz badan teri neem baaz aankhein
inheen haseen fizaaon mein main ho rehta

pukarteen mujhe jab talkhiyaan zamaane ki
tere labon se halaawat ke ghoont pee leta
hayaat cheekhti phirti barehna-sar aur main
ghaneri zulfon ke saaye mein chup ke jee leta

magar yeh ho na saka...

magar yeh ho na saka aur ab yeh aalam hai
ke tu nahin tera gham teri justajoo bhi nahin
guzar rahi hai kuch iss tarah zindagi jaise
ise kisi ke sahare ki aarzoo bhi nahin

zamaane bhar ke dukhon ko laga chuka hoon gale
guzar raha hoon kuch anjani rahguzaron se
muhib saaye meri simat bhar aate hain
hayat-o-maut ke pur-haul kharzaron se

na koi raah na manzil na roshni ka suragh
bhatak rahi hai khalon mein zindagi meri
inheen khalon mein rah jaaonga kabhi kho kar
main jaanta hoon meri humnafas magar yunhi

kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai ...

Shadaab : Taaza
Tiragi : Andhera
Zeest : Zindagi
Shuaaon : Roshni
Begaana-ilm : Jaankar bhi Anjaana bhi
Jamaal : Husn
Raynaaiyon : Adaaon
Gadaz : Mulayam
Talkhiyaan : Kadwi baatein
Halaawat : Chaen
Hayaat : Zindagi
Barehna-Sar : ...
Justajoo : Longing
Rahguzaron : Raaste
Muhib Saaye : Bhayawah Parchhaiyaan
Hayaat-o-maut ke Pur-haul kharzaron se : Zindagi aur Maut ke dardnaak kaanton se
Khalon : Khaalipan
Humnafas : Dost

By the way ... Here's the much simpler Hindi Version

Kabhi kabhi mere dil main khayal aata hai
Ki zindagi teri zulfon ki narm chhaon main guzarne pati
Toh shaadaab ho bhi sakti thi.
Yeh ranj-o-gham ki siyahi jo dil pe chhayi hain
Teri nazar ki shuaon main kho bhi sakti thi.

Magar yeh ho na saka ...

Magar yeh ho na saka aur ab ye aalam hain
Ki tu nahin, tera gham teri justajoo bhi nahin.
Guzar rahi hai kuchh iss tarah zindagi jaise,
Isse kisi ke sahare ki aarzoo hi nahin.

Na koi raah, na manzil, na roshni ka suraag
Bhatak rahin hai andheron main zindagi meri.
Inhi andheron main reh jaoonga kabhi kho kar
Main janta hoon meri hum-nafas, magar yunhi

Kabhi kabhi mere dil main khayal aata hai.

And while I am at it, if you would listen to the song, here's the best stanza

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai
Ki jaise tu mujhe chaahegi umr-bhar yun hi
Uthegi meri taraf pyaar ki nazar yun hi
Main jaanta hoon ki tu gair hai, magar yun hi

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai.

Random Thought No. 001 : Brutal honesty eh?

2007-07-10T00:50:00.000+05:30

"Being too honest reflects a serious lack of tact"

[Reader warning : Rant coefficient almost unity. For most of the visitors, the quote above should be all that they take away from here. Still the whole story follows for the inquisitive ones.]

One need not be too honest, neither with others, nor with one's own self. This has been pointed out to me time and again by a lot of people around. I am told that being honest just for the sake of telling the truth as it is is really not the name of the game. Or rather than calling it a game, we have a very good word for it, it's called TACT.

One needs to have tact, to be able to put things across in the most slightest of manner, and in a way that they would be noticed and still not be taken offence of. That cannot be achieved by a single minded quest for the truth itself. No sirree, that's not the way to go about it at all! All it requires is a little thinking on your part and a little knowledge about the other party in the vocal or physical transaction.

For a person like me who is definitely *tactless*, let me try to analyse what this attribute really is. I'll start with some questions and build it up. Let's see where we go from here.

1. Is it about being dishonest? Not so. I wouldn't call a tactful person a dishonest one. But at the same time, would I call him/her guileless? No, I wouldn't (Yes. You might, so what, we can always disagree!) The way I see it is, its like using the truth as a tool to reach an end.

2. Is it about being smart? Very much so. If one is smart, one WILL be tactful. If one is not tactful, then one is dumb. At least that is what is on the face. I'm blunt, and I'm called an idiot on multiple occasions, and yes, I'm on first hand familiar terms with the word dumb! I don't know how to treat people well, and I hurt them for no reason at all, but for my philosophy of serving the pie as it is. And it is true to a large extent. One should have enough brains to know what to say when and to whom, even though it is the truth, but one should exercise some restraint sometimes. So, yes, it IS about being smart. Which I do not claim to be.

3. The technical alibi. I had noted back there, that tact is basically empoying truth as a tool to reach an end. Whether the end is good or bad, selfish or selfless, right or wrong for that matter ... all that is very subjective and depends on how one approaches the whole thing, but as long as you are on the right side of humanity (whether or not the right side of morality, which itself has its own unique definition to every individual), you're allowed to use the truth to reach that end. The means of using the truth to your advantage might not be morally correct, but then at the end of the day, you are not dishonest, you are not hurting anyone, so you come clean.

4. (Most interesting) Does one really need to be tactful? Well, I have survived 22 years (minus two) sans tact. I have had rough time, paid my share of dues for not having this "vital" component on today's sociehety and it is now that I am having second thoughts about this which is precisely the reason why I am writing the post.

<Diversion 1 : Why this post?>
So I am sitting in my room, and just randomly thinking when I think about how tactless I am and how blunt I am taken to be. For the past few months, I have been using what I later discovered is called 'mindwriting'. Umm, not exactly mindwriting, but the concept is similar. When I am brewing over with some philosophical dilemma, or just some question troubling me, I start writing, spew out everything I have in mind on the paper, or the keyboard. Most of the time, I start seeing some way out of the dilemma or the problem at hand. The trick is to write everything that comes to your mind and then read it. As one writes, as one's thoughts are formed, one starts analysing the good and the bad, the strong and the weak, and then the situation clears up by itself.

So the reason I am writing this random thought is to clear up my stand on my being tactful, or the lack of it. Let's see how it develops. I have no idea as I write this. True, once I am through, I shall edit it out and remove the really crappy things, hehe, but yes, I want to record this process of clearing up my mind as an overall exercise in mindwriting.
</Diversion>

So coming back, does one need to be tactful?

Well, that depends.

That depends on what kind of a person you are. One thing that I can definitely say, if you are not tactful, you'll not be able to befriend everyone coz you'll be too blunt to make everyone happy, but the ones who do become your mates, will have very deep bonds with you. On the other hand, a tactful person would always have a couple of people around to share a joke with, have a laugh and move on in life. They are the happier lot. Or at least, they do seem to be.

Furthermore, if one is a puritan, then any form of manipulation of the truth is a falsehood, an illusion and an attempt to deceive. Whereas for a practical person, truth cannot be manipulated, but it definitely can be shown to someone in a manner he or she wants to see it. That's tact.

It's like advertising and marketing. You need to sell what they'll buy. If you don't have the goods they need, package them in a way that they are tempted to buy. If even the packaging doesn't lure them in, offer a discount!!! There's nothing wrong in that as long as they are buying it out of their own free will, isn't it? For the salesman, its just ringing in the cash registers that is important ... for the consumer, consuming is important. In this age when individual demands are much more important than societal development, this automatically becomes the thumb rule. Sell and buy. I've been told that this is how the human mind works. Everything's a transaction. Is it? Well maybe, but why isn't it so for me? Was I made differently? I can't believe it to be true. I think we are just closing a channel because its either too difficult to follow, too unrewarding in this present world, or maybe yes, too impractical!

But I believe in absolutes. The fact that there are no absolutes per se, doesn't hold here because I believe that every human being knows where to draw the line between moral and immoral, the right and the wrong, the truth and the lie. Everyone of us knows what is the truth and what is not. Sometimes though, we just grow up and teach ourselves new definitions. Maybe we brainwash ourselves away from it. But yes, ab initio, we all know. I don't sell, I don't buy. I don'r market. I don't advertise. I just cut the truth up in little little cubes and ration it out to anyone and everyone who cares to notice.

At the same time, one needs to be careful in distinguishing ideas and opinions from the facts. In being brutally honest about the facts, one cannot be very judgemental about one's own opinions, that would definitely be unjust. Opinions don't count. The facts do. Maybe later than sooner. They hurt, they pinch, they remain static for long after they have been put forth, but they are just that, the facts. Nobody can deny them. That is why an argument based on facts is solid as a fortress. So, being brutally honest has its own takes as well.

All said and done, its basically about your own comfort. The only person you have to be comfortable with after all, is your own self. One may be comfortable by stating the truth on an as-is-where-is basis and then leave it to the sensibilities of the other party. For someone else, their viewpoint of being comfortable might to see to it that everyone around them is happy and they have a role in it. That's a very genuine concern as well. Its basically a difference of ideology. While the first one is more like a traditional reformatory approach, the other one is like a modern indulgent soft approach. Both work. Both are acceptable. It depends on you. It also depends on whom you apply it to. As well as when.

Hmm, now for the results.

Honesty? Yes.
Brutal honesty? Umm, maybe not so brutal.
Tact? Not really my piece of cake.
Self regulation? Definitely.
Solution? Look inwards, introspect and improve. Once through, then look outwards and demand a better world. But first, one needs to prepare oneself to be able to be justified in making that demand.

On the opening quote, 'Being too honest reflects a serious lack of tact', I agree.
Couldn't care less though!

That's it for now.

Child's Play

2007-07-06T02:49:00.000+05:30

"This should do it. Another couple of cupfuls of sand and this would be complete." He had marked the boundaries of his castle with shells he had come across his strolls on the beach. The castle itself had been made by his little hands, decorated with all the things he had loved. Everyday he had brought along one of his favourite things and given it a place in the castle. He himself imagined moving into his 'home' very soon. Not that he did not realise it was very small for him. But still, when he slept at night, he could see himself living in that home, with all his favourite things around him. All his toys, his books, his playthings. He was building a home for himself in the sand. Life would be so wonderful in that house. Such were his thoughts!

He lifted up his eyes and saw that the sun was setting, its golden rays bouncing off the silent waves of the ocean and tickling his vision. "Time to go home." His mom's voice rang in his head. He pulled out the big cardboard box which read in all the English he could scribble. "Varun's hause. Pleze do not distrub" and covered the castle with it. Inside his mother had made cookies. Munching the fresh and hot confectionery, he switched on the television and watched Popeye beat up Bluto. His father came back from office soon, and then he spent the evening chatting to him about the new factory that he was setting up. Not that he understood a lot, or at all, of what his father used to say, but he liked talking to him that way. After all, he was grown up. Very soon he will be 10 years into the world. He was definitely a grown up now.

The next evening, he lifted the box to resume the castle work. It was just a few days away from completion. Today, he was going to put in his most cherished toy in the castle. He opened his bag and pulled out his little red ferrari. He placed it at the entrance gate. To him, it never seemed illogical as to what a ferrari would be doing in front of a castle. But all the same, it was his house, and this was his car.

That day before leaving, he saw the skies turning red. It occurred to him to raise the fence. He had ample shells with him. It would have taken him only half an hour to scatter them all around the castle, safeguarding it from the waves. It could get stormy in some days, he had thought. Deciding to do the reinforcement the next day, he ran back to his mother, who was waiting for him with snacks.

That night, the storm hit the sea. Giant waves made their way to the house. He saw from his window how badly it was raining. The winds blew away the cardboard cover. The castle was all at the mercy of the wind and the water. He wanted to run out to the courtyard and protect his "home". His mother had forbidden him to do that, fearing he would catch a cold. He had shouted out to his father to cover the castle as he drove in after work, but he couldn't listen to the boy's voice above the thunderclaps.

He saw from the window as the "fence" crumbled. "I should have raised the fence," he thought. The castle's top was blown off the next. And then to his horror, a large wave approached the castle, menacingly as though it was determined to crush out all his dreams tonight. He ran downstairs, pleading to his mother to let him out in the courtyard. She didn't know why he was so desperate and crying. His father took him inside to the television and switched on the cartoons. They didn't interest him anymore. All he could think of right now, was the castle. A giant splash at their doorstep made him rush frantically to the window.

The castle was gone.

So were the books, the GI joes, his ferrari. Everything.

His mother called out to his father to take care of the porch. He heard him talking, "Its nothing, it'll soon be over. Don't worry. It was in the weather report today. Just a minor tropical disturbance, it'll be over by the morning."

He was sent to sleep. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't believe it was gone. He went to his mother. Climbed alongside her in the bed. She could see the tears going down his cheeks.
"What happened beta?"
"Mamma, the house is gone. MY house is gone."
"Don't worry beta, it was really very bad weather. It could not have survived."
"No mamma, I should have raised the fence"
"It was only a castle made of sand. Raising the fence would not have helped. It had that fate."
"No mamma, it was my house!" She just couldn't understand!
"Arrey beta, it was only a week that you have been building it. Tomorrow, we'll start again, OK? Now sleep."
Only a week? It was 7 days of his work. Full seven days! The mother could not understand the difference of the duration which she had perceived and what it meant to her little boy.
We'll build it again? But what will I put inside the new one? My GI Joes, my ferrari all went away with this one. What will we put in the new one, mamma?

He knew he could not make her understand all this. He sulked back into his room.

The next morning, he woke up and rushed out. The place was flat. No signs of the castle, or its inhabitants. No ferrari, none of the books, no toys. He suddenly felt a rage. At himself, for not raising the fence, at the weather for being so ugly, at his mother, for talking as if it was just another sand castle. He just felt very angry.

When you are 10, and very angry, you cry. He ran towards the ocean, screaming that he had taken away his house, tears running down his cheeks, his hands trembling with anger, his feet working up a sprint and then tiring themselves on the sand. He kept shouting and cursing the ocean. His mother looked at his father. "Child's play," they nodded to each other in affirmation.

The ocean just moved to and fro, smiling at the little kid.

2007-07-04T00:07:00.000+05:30

Time cannot be turned back, and words cannot be taken back.
I am not what I was, and I hate what I am.

But I'll no longer hurt anyone. I'll just shut up till I get back to myself.

I'm sorry.

Closed.

2007-06-29T08:26:00.000+05:30

I'm gonna close my body now. And my heart too. This makes sense.

Die Another Day - Madonna

I'm gonna wake up, yes and no
I'm gonna kiss some part of
I'm gonna keep this secret
I'm gonna close my body now

I guess, die another day
I guess Ill die another day

Sigmund freud
Analyze this

I'm gonna break the cycle
I'm gonna shake up the system
I'm gonna destroy my ego
I'm gonna close my body now

I think Ill find another way
Theres so much more to know
I guess Ill die another day
Its not my time to go

For every sin, Ill have to pay
I've come to work, Ive come to play
I think Ill find another way
Its not my time to go

I'm gonna avoid the cliche
I'm gonna suspend my senses
I'm gonna delay my pleasure
I'm gonna close my body now

I guess, die another day
I guess Ill die another day

Another day.

Mirza Ghalib, mera Dil-e-Naadan aur असमंजस

2007-06-21T05:11:00.000+05:30

This is a very famous ghazal by Ghalib, which (strangely) I stumbled across today. Its a sweet piece, describing very beautifully the असमंजस of a man in love. (Oh yes, I had promised, there wont be any further mush on the blog, but wtf, read this and you'll stop being so picky about my words) Anyhow, I was saying, this one describes the whole situation so perfectly that I couldn't resist putting it on the blog. The actual ghazal has more verses, but I have chosen to present here the ones which I could connect to at some level.

दिल-ए-नादाँ तुझे हुआ क्या है?
आख़िर इस दर्द की दवा क्या है?

हम हैं मुश्ताक़ और वो बेज़ार
या इलाही ये माजरा क्या है।

मैं भी मुँह में ज़बान रखता हूँ,
काश! पूछो कि "मुद्दा क्या है?"

जब कि तुझ बिन नहीं कोई मौजूद
फिर ये हंगामा, ऐ ख़ुदा! क्या है?

हमको उनसे वफ़ा की है उम्मीद
जो नहीं जानते वफ़ा क्या है।

जान तुम पर निसार करता हूँ
मैंने नहीं जाना दुआ क्या है।

Its just so very smooth and satirical, I am almost falling in love with Ghalib, lekin, "humko unse hai wafaa ki ummeed, jo nahin jaante wafa kya hai" Heh! Naah, Mian Ghalib can wait till I finish reading the complete Diwaan-e-Ghalib in Urdu, which will take time (since obviously Ill have to learn to read in Urdu first, ha ha!). I have a copy of the book somewhere, courtesy my dad, who's probably the one who unconsciously got me hooked on to urdu poetry. All that, for laters.

Daddu speaketh...

2007-06-19T20:31:00.000+05:30

For all that matters, I could have also chosen this post to be titled, "Vinod Khare and the girlfriend, the lover and the whore". Here's why ...

One good friday, when we were all ready to throw Rakshit out of the campus with an awesome party, this is when Daddu was hit by one of his creative bolts and said something which went like this...

"Your girlfriend is someone you have sex with, while a lover is someone you make love to." Then he paused, waiting to see everyone's reaction, when at once, Saumya, hit with an equally intense bolt of curiosity asked, "then whom do you fuck?" "Oh that?!" said Daddu, "obviously, a whore."

That's more than just wordplay. I'll leave you to figure that out.

Back?!

2007-06-07T04:00:00.000+05:30

Yep, it seems I couldn't stay away from this place for long. The blogging vibes soon got back to me and thus I am here! It's almost an addiction. No mater how much you try to quit, it sucks you back right in.

I feel I owe an explanation for all the hulaabaloo going on. Sometime back, I had decided to stop blogging for good. The reasons, I did not know exactly, however, I kind of figured I had to stop my blabberings. Maybe it was the old going-into-a-shell syndrome that keeps happening to me again and again, or maybe because of the turn of events that I have been witness to recently, really give meaning to < quote >...as things stand now, there's nothing to say, nothing to think, nothing to discuss, absolute zilch.< / quote > The "turn of events" is a bit inolved story and I wouldn't bother you with that. Just that it wasn't something I would be boasting about to my grandchildren, hehe!

Anyhow, whatever it was, it has passed, and soon with my proverbial life proverbially back on the proverbial track (henh!) I am all ready to start off again.

To the casual reader, this (15 odd days) is the typical time gap between posts on my blog generally, and with which information someone might just assume that nothing actually happened, I'll differ. It is definite that the comeback to blogging is just as serious as the decision to quit. When I had quit, I really wanted to. The blogs and the posts lately had been too specifically oriented in one direction and truly lacked my overall profoundness (yes, i am a narcissist, so sue me!) In simple terms, I was writing either only about mushy things, or only about depressing things (one and the same). That is something that is just not me. Although if you would know me, I have been so for quite some time now. Depressed and mushy. Just like a blob of deflated candy floss. At which point I think, I could take it no more, and told myself, no more depressing and mushy things to talk about. At least not the depressing part. And at the same time, try to get over the fixation for the cutie, pinky stuff.

And once the machine was stopped, things started improving on other fronts, independent of this event, and I kinda got hold of myself. Life cleared up, I again have things to tell, ideas to discuss, people to deconstruct, events to describe, emotions to dissect, and rants to get out of my system. Who knows, maybe more.

So, Saummy's back. Hopefully to stay for long. Hopefully having more to talk about than just his mindless rantings about himself and his life. Maybe something meaningful as well. Definitely something worth your time. Whoever you are, wherever you are. We promise to deliver hence(TM). Or, as the Tatas would put it, more blog per blog. :)

Keep reading, and commenting.

P.S : Or if you may so believe, it was a cheap publicity trick to garner awws and tcho-tchos from the readers of this blog, and then I could have been back "on public demand". But unfortunately, I got only 3 responses, one of whom was visitng my blog for the first time (!), hence whatever the trick was, it bombed! :) So, I am sheepishly trying to restart the machine. Hate me, Kill me!

P.P.S : Love you Ravi, love you Vinod. At least you guys noticed me (or the lack of me). (sniff!) Respects even towards the kind lady who had been on my blog after I had visited hers, and managed to write something good back here. The rest of you, who are just too busy or find Saumyasaez too boring, I think you have a surprise coming up in the next few weeks. Watch this space.

Goodbye, and thanks for all the fish.

2007-05-19T05:01:00.000+05:30

Dear Reader,

This is meant to be a goodbye post. The author of this blog shall not be writing anymore, there won't be any more posts/material on this blog henceforth.

Here's a thank you for bearing with me all the time, and here's hoping I resume this activity soon, sometime in my life. But as things stand now, there's nothing to say, nothing to think, nothing to discuss, absolute zilch. I have a few drafts handy, maybe in my effort to clean up my baggage I'll complete those as I go along, but yes, officially, no more stuff to be blogged.

Saumyasez no more.

"Us"

2007-05-09T01:06:00.000+05:30

Here's a short piece I just wrote randomly. I don't know in what genre of literature I should basket this one, but here goes ...

Beyond the mazes of time,
Beyond the veil of reality,
Beyond the spaces that be,
There exists an ‘us’

There’s an ‘us’;
Waiting.
Breathing…
Silently, Patiently, Serenely.

One day,
I shall meet ‘us’
Will let you know.
Just keep in touch.

Random Thought No. 666 : Hum Chlormint Kyun Khaate Hain?

2007-04-29T21:27:00.000+05:30

Well, so if you don't know what Chlormint is, (a) you don't need to waste your time on this post and (b) if you still wanna do that, here's where to start, not that this page is any informative, but then you just need to know this.

Ok, so, "hum chlormint kyun khaate hain?". Here are some introspections.

... taaki Praty ki moochhon ki kheti hamesha hari bhari rahe
... kyunki pan/cigarettewaale ke paas chhutte paise nahin hote
... taaki ghar par pata na chale ki sutta maara hai
... bekaaj, Chlaarmint ij MAI CHOEES.
... saadi Chlormint da jawaab nahi
... kyunki Chlormint ko peeya nahi jaa sakta
... kyunki peene ke liye toh Limca hai
... waise Sprite bhi hai.
... kyunki "hum" Kanpur mein rehte hain, agar dilli mein rehte, toh hum poochhte, "main" chlormint kyun khaata hoon?
... kyunki hum fukke nahi khaana chahte
... kyunki Chlormint humko nahi khaa sakti
... kyunki deepu bahut lamba hai aur prinshul bahut hi dhakkan
... kyunki saumya ke paas exam mein aur koi kaam nahi hota blog likhkar timepass karne ke allaawa ...

Issliye hum Chlormint khaate hain. Kuchh chamka ab? :)

Random Thought No. 9 : Questions

2007-04-13T06:39:00.000+05:30

Is it the end, or is it the beginning?
Why do we do what we do?
Was it always meant to turn out like this?
IF not, then how was it meant to be?
Can something I do or anything I can do, have an impact significant enough to change the scheme of things that be, and things that are to become?
IF so, how? why?
Are YOU a part of this? Is anyone? Isn't everyone?

Guess that's some food for thought.

The I-Hate-My-Life post

2007-04-01T21:37:00.000+05:30

Right now, I hate my life.
I just hate it.
For no particular reason.

I am sick of the way I am, sick of the way I live, the way I think, the way I work. I am just so sick of it all right now. Its like everything I do or think of doing, defines "sick"

I am so yellow, so sick sick sick.
And I don't know what to do!

Oh damnit! Why did it have to come to this?

Early morning vibes...

2007-03-29T20:47:00.001+05:30

The following transpired between me and Praty on our way to the morning chai at MT, worth a blog.

Scene : The half-asleep duo of Praty and Saumya trudging along the Hall of Residence Avenue, crossing the Hall 2 gate towards MT. As they see, a localite lady is boarding a Rickshaw. She'll be around 30, attired in Saree and with a voice as shrill and as loud that is associated with my perception of the Kanpur babe. The rickshaw puller and the lady soon start making small conversation, and both of them laugh.

Saumya (feeling sorry for the lady's hardworking, bread_winner_for_the_family, middle class husband) : Dekh yaar, aunty toh rickshaw waale se hi las rahi hain! [Behold thine eyes to this scene my friend, this fine young lady here is categorically "flirting" with this gentleman rickshaw puller here!]

Praty (...) : huh? [huh?]

Saumya (still inquizitive) : Yaar dekh na, aunty lase hi jaa rahi hain ... kyun? aakhir kyun ? aakhir kyun praty!!! [See, she is still flirting, why why why oh WHY!]

Praty (! - which means he is on the verge of getting to a big time earth shattering realisation) : Simple hai, aunty soch rahi hain, thoda lasne se agar 6 rupay ki jagah 5 rupay dene ki ho jaaye toh kya nuksaan? ['tis but simple, for she thinks what is the harm done if for a few moments of her sweet chitchat, this foolish rickshaw puller would charge her a rupee less for the ride?]

Saumya (still doubtful) : Lekin yeh baat toh rickshaw waala bhi jaanta hoga na? Wo kyun las rah hai? [Yes my friend, but would not the same realization dawned upon the rickshaw puller aswell? Why is he playing the game?]

Praty (!!! - which means that he got a time slice of clear vision and spoke the ultimate truth) : Dekh rickshaw waala soch raha hai, mere 6 rupay toh kahin jaane nahin doonga, woh toh wasool hi loonga, ab tab tak agar lasne ko hi mil raha hai toh main kyun mauka haath se jaane doon [He knows that he will anyhow take the exact fare from the woman, so why not enjoy the ride with a little spice?]

Well, that's the world for you, as we realised it one sleepy Spring morning on our way to the MT.

Random Thought no. 42 : what do we learn at IIT

2007-03-15T22:20:00.000+05:30

Yep, this is a new thing on this blog, and I'll post 'em under the title "Random Thought"s. Each "random thought" will be assigned a not-so-random_ number ... wait, wait wait ... well that's debatable, at the end it IS a random pick from a finite list of numbers I have in mind :| ... anyhow, back to where we were ... so a not-so-random number shall be assigned to the incumbent thought while it is being posted on "the blog".

Each random thought, as it were, would have a short but precise idea thrown upon at the reader to (hopefully) stimulate his (or her, if you may so please) senses/ego/spirituality etc. and shall also carry some background about its origin. Well, if I am in a good mood, I'll also post the significance of the random number so assigned to the random thought.

So here's this time's dose. Ladies and Gentlemen, Random Thought number 42.

Scene : Vivek Madnani and Saumya Jain, sipping away Sprites at MT (that dingy, stinking place frequented by early risers, late sleepers, class bunkers, samosa seekers ... basically one and all from IIT). Kaboom! Madnani gets a flash of insight and thus he spake...

One thing that IIT teaches you is to accept defeat.

We come in here as heroes, each in his/her own right, struggling through school, all lamps burning, all engines fired, all horses on ... oh well yes, in short, we come in after a good fight, as champs.

Then, the dream-run ends.

Everyone starts expecting/assuming/presuming that yeah this guy is a slog-horse. Let's just get him. Everyone. Friends, society, teachers, professors. Everyone! "Oh yes you are an IITian, blah blah blah ... should know ... blah blah blah ... should handle ... blah blah blah ... should slog away like everyone else ... blah blah blah ... should do this ... blah blah blah. What they forget, the IITian included, is that this is at the end of the day, an "educational insititution". It is expected to provide education, not distribute it away and expect people to lap it up! We slog horses, slog as expected, slog slog slog slog and slog.

And then, we lose. We lose to ourselves.

We just lose. BIG TIME. And what do we feel about it? Nothing. That's what we are taught here. Lose and stay down. Don't fight. It's not gonna change anything. As long as you get your degree in time, its all fine. Stay hungry, stay foolish, stay selfish. Be a jerk all your life!

Enough random rant. Don't you think so?

---
and 42 ... next time folks, my head's starting to hurt a bit.

Tagged! - Spilling the guts.

2007-03-09T06:57:00.000+05:30

So now that everyone knows what being tagged means, I can spill the guts.
Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Saumya Jain out and about for the whole world for one time, thanks to the lady. (Remember, what follows is privileged information! and you're getting it for free, grrr!. OK, maybe the silly internet charge - that doesn't count)

Oh I just came to know, it was the international women's day yesterday, all the more reason. [Official] This post dedicated to Shubha, my rep for all things woman :)[/Official]

I FEAR

Death
Death represents not only loss or pain or sorrow to the next of kin, I fear death for much more. A dying man takes with him all his unfulfilled quests, dreams, desires, thirsts, longings. Talk about unfinished business. Its a great leveller, but I fear it nevertheless.
Loneliness
I have been a total introvert. I used to be alone most of the time. Lately, however, that has not been the case. I am around with a lotsa people all the time. So much so, I take time out to be with myself for a change. But too much loneliness gives me the creeps. I want to be a part of a sea of humanity. Maybe that's why I love the discotheque.
Small talk
Not my idea of a perfect way to pass the time. I can discuss business with anyone and everyone. Without business, I dont talk. I keep shut. Zipped up, so to say. Very poor at making pointless conversations. Especially on the face. Very especially with a girl.

I LAUGH WITH

Myself
Never fail to amaze myself. Whether its searching for the cycle keys when I have them between my teeth, or fretting over an assignment that I have already submitted, I have made sure that I kept laughing all the way to this day.
Pratyush
No need to explain. We are almost brothers. More. Pulls out a smile from me in everything he does.
KJ
My sis. My chhoti behen from the time she was born to the time she started talking. Since then, I have been considered the youngest one in the family.

I LOVE

You know who
If you know me, you already know who's the numero uno on this list.
Myself
Never before since the time of Narcissus has anyone loved himself more.
A sleepy february afternoon ... and it starts raining in campus.
Myself again
Goes on to prove point no. 2 :)

I HATE

To see myself spiralling down into nothingness, for nothing at all.
People who lie to themselves.
Waking up from sleep, especially if I am dreaming. :)

I DON'T UNDERSTAND

Women
Seems nobody gets round to that!
What's this whole hullabaloo about being in love. Its just a state. Like being drunk, for example.
Why people complicate their lives so much. Its all very simple if you just look at the situation from a little higher perspective.

ON MY DESK YOU'LL FIND

Keys
Lotsa keys. I am a lock and key person. I just feel safe around them.
Paper
Rough paper, roughed up paper, blanks, printed, scribbled upon, sweated upon etc.
Empty ciggy boxes, from a long time back.

THINGS I AM DOING RIGHT NOW

Listening to Ghulam Ali
"Maine lakhon ke bol sahe..."
Contemplating dropping out of college, sans an engineering degree.
Writing this post, duuuuh!

THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE

Raise a child with a woman I am totally and madly in love with (a lots of children, actually)
Go on a world tour with a camera
Jump off a cliff, just for kicks!
Introduce a new world order, one without boundaries, without war, suffering. In short, Utopia. But yes, I can dream of it, you can dream of it. Why not, then?

THINGS I CAN DO

Be very confused about everything
Sleep endlessly for a whole day
Read, Write and Count

THINGS I CAN NEVER DO

Speak to a gathering without getting the blues.
Look at a girl in the eye for more than 8 seconds.
Become Jeff Murdoch, although as much as I would want to! Sigh! :(

THINGS YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO

The small voice in your head. Listen to it everytime.
Your Parents.
Ghulam Ali
Simon n Garfunkel

THINGS YOU SHOULD NEVER LISTEN TO

Strangers
Yourself when you are drunk/high. Especially if one of your aims in life is to jump off a cliff, just for kicks :)
Am I allowed to say, Heemays Resammaiyya ? [figure that out :)]

WOULD LIKE TO LEARN

A lot of languages
Ball room dancing. The one with the 3 piece suits and the white gowns. That one.
Actually, if there is anything out there that is there to be learnt, I'd like to learn it.

FOODS I EAT

Sweets.
Actually, I believe, sugar is a very good solvent for bad taste. Anything sweet, and I am up for it. Laddoos are just the top ones on the list.
Anything well prepared and well served.
Anything that my Mom makes (for the love of it), my Sister prepares (for the fear of her) and whatever my wife will prepare sometime in the future (for the sheer romance of it all)
For Thought.

BEVERAGES I DRINK

Water
Tea + Coffee
Milk
Blood, if that counts, eh heh heh!

TV SHOWS/BOOKS I WATCHED/READ AS A KID

I was fed on TeeVee and Books. Cannot list 'em down like this.
Was crazy about Comics till a time, after which Children's Pop Science books took over. Not too much into Novels and stuff. Have read random picks from Daddy's collection.
All DD shows of mid-90s. Lately, Sony and Star Plus. "Surabhi" (Sunday nights on DD1) was a good one.
Watched Cartoons till very late. Would still be watching T&J, Dexter's Lab, Popeye et al had it not been a strange discord with the television set that I have been experiencing lately.

I WOULD LOVE TO TAG

You?

So, this post draws to its end. I'd like to invite comments + additions which I would happily incorporate to "things about myself" in this post.

'til then.

errm ... tagged [!] / [:)] / [:?]

2007-03-09T06:34:00.000+05:30

[Spoiler : Long post, written in a mood of vengeance, and a pinch of I.M. (don't ask me what that means...its close to B.S, a little on the deranged side though)

So, I was "tagged" here by Shubha, one lovely lady I know from school. To make it more interesting, she realised that I hadn't taken notice of the whole "saumya-jain-has-been-tagged" thing because I had not seen the aforementioned post on her blog, coz I hadn't checked her blog for a long long time, and that's coz I had been kinda stuck up somewhere important (saving that for later). So she had to do that extra effort and reminded me on a chat that, well, I had been tagged.

There I was, chatting to her about how sick my life was, how I was planning to change it all, how the people in my life were goofing up with themselves, how I was falling apart for a silly thing (saving ALL that for later as well) when I get bombed by her TAG. And I do the silly thing ... I ask her what it means.

Now Shubha told me a bit about it, and I could figure it out, going through her "tagged!" post. But then, looking back, I kindof find it insulting to me to have asked that question. Am I not supposed to know? Well I did not, but I could have made out, had I read Shubha's post. She linked me to the post 'coz after that I was supposed to know what getting tagged means. But I didn't, I just felt comfortable knowing at the back of my mind that yes, I had been tagged and that was that.

We live in a fast-food world. We take things as we are told them. We don't explore, we don't think by ourselves. [ideas courtesy "The Weatherman", "Thank you for Smoking"] Wanna see an example? I linked to her post in the beginning of this post, hoping that by the time you read T.H.I.S. you would have gone through that and thus know what being tagged means. Well...Do you?

:)

First read her post, then you can go on to mine. Its up there.

perhaps, perhaps, perhaps ...

2007-03-02T01:52:00.000+05:30

This is the song that came as the title song of the TV series "Coupling". As I just found out the original of this song was sung by Doris Day and here goes the lyrics.

This is really exquisite :)

you won't admit you love me
and so how am i ever to know
you always tell me
perhaps perhaps perhaps

a million times i've asked you
and then
i ask you over
again
you only answer
perhaps perhaps perhaps

if you can't make your mind up
we'll never get started
and i don't wanna wind up
being parted
broken-hearted

so if you really love me
say yes
but if you don't dear
confess
and please don't tell me
perhaps perhaps perhaps

perhaps perhaps perhaps

if you can't make your mind up
we'll never get started
and i don't wanna wind up
being parted
broken-hearted

so if you really love me
say yes
but if you don't dear
confess
and please don't tell me
perhaps perhaps perhaps
perhaps perhaps perhaps
perhaps perhaps perhaps

:|
perhaps...

and he waits...

2006-12-20T01:32:00.000+05:30

There’s a boy in a room.
And a girl in a city.
Living each other’s dreams
Treading their paths. Living life.

When the world sleeps, they talk.
Share their days.
They talk about love.
About happiness. About life.

He loves her. She knows he does.
She likes him.
Doesn’t tell.
And he waits.

A compliment?

2006-11-28T17:19:00.000+05:30

Today I was talking to one of my friends about (who else?) myself when he said this about me vis-à-vis another common friend of ours.

"People like you are meant to change the world, but people like him were made to survive in it"

:)

I really don't know if I should take it as a compliment or a judgement. Any ways, it was quite thought-provoking. So much merges into what I am into these days, self realisation (/mockery /denial /discovery /pity) All things self, though.

Know Thyself...

2006-11-28T16:00:00.000+05:30

Somehow, this poem makes so much sense to me right now...

Know Thyself
by Alexander Pope
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is Man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act or rest,
In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast,
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such
Whether he thinks too little or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused, or disabused;
Created half to rise and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled:
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!

The Riddle of the World...sometimes it becomes too puzzling for me.

Murphy

2006-11-27T11:51:00.000+05:30

Going as per rationality, the Murphy's Law must apply to all the phenomena of this universe, including those dictated by the Murphy's Laws themselves, no?

Keep thinking ;)

Confession

2006-11-25T19:07:00.000+05:30

This post for a very selfish reason.

Today was a bad day. And I am writing this so that I remember everytime I see it, that how bad it was. Maybe I will look back at it someday and have reassurance that it wasn't THAT pathetic, or at least something good came out of it all.

In the end, its every man for himself, and it's never too late to work towards a better life. Maybe this is it.

The feeling of remorse for letting down a close friend shall always pinch. I'll have to do something about it.

I am sorry, Sumeet.

<...>

2006-11-22T03:24:00.000+05:30

As I push the door, it opens with a creek, almost poetically. As I enter, I can distinctly smell the smoke of a freshly stubbed out cigarette. Strange, because it has been quite some time since anyone has been here. The tinge frolicks around with my nostrils for a few moments before they get used to it. Is it really the smell, I ponder, or my mind playing around with the memories I have of this room, his room.

The room is dark and gloomy, still I can make out the faint outlines of the furniture inside. There isn't much of what can be accommodated in a hostel room, but still, his room has quite a lot of stuff, all randomly placed inside. Because of the darkness, I cannot see it, but it is there, I can feel the obstacles. Almost like they have an aura around them, his aura.

As I flick up the button of the bulb, the room is immediately filled up with soft gloomy yellowness, pushing the darkness to the corners, making it hide in the shadows. There is a chair immediately in front of me, a cluttered workdesk to my right, a pile of unlaundered clothes on the bed, a couple of suitcases unwelcoming me into their owner's domain, a wheezy typewriter stashed away in a corner, tons and tons of paper everywhere: class notes, correspondence, his "idea" pages, the "festival material"; all strewn about. Everything looking back at me just like I am looking at them. Without passion or emotion, devoid of energy, just us gazing at each other. A feeling of statis grips me. It seems nothing has been touched since then.

A crunch beneath my feet. A used up matchstick. A box of matches on the desk. Depressing amounts of cigarette stubs in the waste bin. Stubbing-out marks on the desk drawer. An empty box of cigarettes.

Then I see it.

On a small bedside table I see a stubbed out cigarette. Perfectly left untouched. The ashes are there, the insignia of the brand intact, as he used to keep it. The filter a bit crooked with the pressure applied on the top and still standing in the little pile of ash. Beside it is a letter pad, with the impressions still there of the note written on the page that must have been above it, the page that must have been hastily torn apart by him. A page that he was carrying with him when he was found.

A suicide note. In my dead friend's pocket.

I can feel my eyes getting moist. I must go away now. I give one parting look at my friend's last smoke, and close the door behind me.

-Pratyush

Psst ... Pratyush doesn't know I wrote this story in his name. :)

Nobody.

2006-11-05T09:37:00.000+05:30

I am nobody.
I live in all of us.
Come to think of it, almost everybody is a nobody at some point of their life, and I am one right now.
Why? I don’t know, but I have this feeling that I am slowly pushing myself back into the darkness. While the world around me is bubbling and thriving, I am getting more and more secluded, an outsider, a lonely onlooker to the party.
This too, shall pass.

The Clock Turns Back...

2006-10-31T06:25:00.000+05:30

It may not make much of a read. (Reading the footnote would hopefully help.)

An hour is what the papers say
The clock turns the backward way
Oh I wish time did so too
It should turn back, for me, for you.

Let's go back to the same ol' days
And write down everything anew
Let's sit down and set it straight
A different script, for me, for you.

On although a second thought,
Maybe, just maybe we should not.
This is more real, this is more true
Having just enough of magic, for me, for you.

The clock, however does turn back
One more degree of separation
Let's see if the magic still works
For this man, is it hope, or jubilation?

This poem comes after a completion of a marathon run of "Before Sunrise" and "Before Sunset" at my very local theatre that I fondly refer to as Klysh. (It means that I watched these wonderful movies on my comp :p)
Now, "Before Sunrise" was a stunning story, a fairy tale as well as an almost real time movie. The actors were impeccably true to their characters, which in turn were breathtakingly so lovable (for the lack of a better word) It is a fairytale happening to two people in real life. Sends you in a trance. "Before Sunset", the sequel, couldn't have been more apt. It is, in every sense of the word, a breathtaking production. I did not even realise that the movie was through till I saw the credits rolling in. It was so encompassing. And then, this poem. Don't get waylaid by the one hour thing, it IS important but let's just say it's a thing that started it all, and hence I chose to keep it in the composition. Whatever, not getting into THAT. Just watch the movies and maybe then the poem might make some sense.

The Strange Case of the Birthday Card...

2006-10-24T20:42:00.000+05:30

Well, just read this.
(Information : Certain parts of this presentation are inspired from real life.)

Once I sent a birthday card
for a lady extraordinaire
’twas a plain and simple electronic card
"To show that you love and care"TM

After googling for a hour or so
Oh! Finalising it was so hard
For a special lady on a special day
A cute-ish birthday card

The forgetful that I am, I knew
It might happen, with fate,
That I forget to send the card to her
On the correct d-date!

So I thought up a little plan
And set up the card thus
To be delivered to her on the right date
No worries and no fuss!

There was an option on the card
to tick on the place that said,
Tell me when this card is sent,
And also when it’s read

So I put a tick mark each
And press the button to send
The card that wished a happy day
From a very happy friend

I should’ve avoided the ticks, I feel
should've sent an unmarked card instead
'coz I got a message saying the card was sent
But never got one saying that it was read

So boys and men, and all such fellas
Keep this in mind I hark
Either do not send a greeting card
Or send one without a mark.

These days, my literary standards have taken a plummet from their erstwhile summits. (Mt. Everest? No, more like the top of Faculty Building, heh heh!) Anyways, I am trying out a new way of writing that is impromptu, thoroughly unrevised, one go, straight-from-the-gut-through-my-fingers-and-on-the-screen kind of writing. I'll stick to this for the time being till the "literary standards" hit a Mariana Trench. Then maybe I'll contemplate on a new way to tease the world.

Till then. Smiles.

Suicide Note : It starts all over again...

2006-10-19T04:10:00.000+05:30

Life, they say comes a-round-a-full circle.

This semester is no better than the previous. Same story, pre registration time, full of enthusiasm in choosing courses, courses that seem interesting (in the long run, they DO turn out to be!), courses with the best facutly teaching them, courses that would require me to think and learn. But these are courses which would also need me to attend classes.

Why I do not attend a lot of classes, I cannot figure out. Maybe I have lost that trait somewhere. I don't attend classes, lose out on the course, finally end up either passing with a poor grade or flunking (Yes have done it a couple of times yeah!) Is this life? Is this the way things should be? Is this what I wanted to be?

No.

The worse part is ... I scripted it myself. I am becoming exactly the same kind of person I loathed when I entered the institute gates for the first time. You know the one, Mr. Seem-to-know-it-all, Mr. Blabber-mouth, Mr. I'm-an-IITian-so-I-must-be-bright, those types. What it actually means, is that I haven't learnt ANYTHING after my JEE preparations got over. The trouble is, I haven't tried to, as well.

I was never a fighter. When it becomes too much, I just lie back and leave it. unfortunately that is not what works. I postpone/procastinate/or just ignore everything till it becomes too much to handle, at which point I just shirk it off. But but but, I am in a system that doesn't appreciate it, and it shouldn't either. I end up being more miserable.

I am thinking right now, that I would start studying this particular course (the mid-sem preparation for which triggered this post) after my midsems get over. But i have too much on my hands to make this commitment. As such I am going to have a hell lot of work in the next two weeks, there is also the CAT exam on 19th november after which we have, lo! the End sems. When does Saumya study? Saumya doesn't, gets an F, grinds his teeth harder, becomes a bigger sore loser, starts complaining around and then again goes into depression, something only a very few close friends can prevent as well as cure me out of.

Had it not been for them, I'd have been a major wreck already, not that I aint, but a bigger mess would have existed in the space currently allotted to Saumya Jain on this planet. If you know you are one of them, I should also let you know that I value your presence in my life and would always remember you people as my saviours.

...to be continued, hopefully.

She...

2006-10-11T05:25:00.000+05:30

P(re) S(cript) : Written under the effect of a night spent peering at a blank computer screen and reflecting on why I do what I do, maybe some gentleman by the name of Freud deserves some credit as well.

[Warning] Gossip mongers and nosy pokers take note please, there's nothing in here you might be interested in...so if THAT is why you're reading this, kindly make a hasty exit. Else, if you do have a little taste in life, read on...

She maybe a girl far away, or someone living just round the corner. She may be a person living, or lived, or yet to be born. She may not even exist at all, or maybe existing for eternity for me. She may not be a person I know, not a person I have met yet, she might just be a concept. She maybe a sister, a mother, a friend or no one at all, her existence maybe just a mere figment of my silly imagination.

But she lives through me...she lives in me.

She inspires, she creates, she loves, she nourishes, she brings out the best in me. She whispers love in my ears as I fall asleep, she dives into my dreams, and wakes me up gently from the sweet slumber each morning. I live with her aura all around me, protecting, caring and nurturing as ever. I work for her, write for her, create for her, think for her, live for her.

Maybe you do, too.

I love her. Absolutely. Madly.

Umm...Did I fool so many of 'em?

2006-07-10T00:51:00.000+05:30

You can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can't fool all of the people all of the time.

These were the words of the great Abe Lincoln. What do I say to it?

Had I been asked this, let's say an year ago, my views would have been "oh yeah!" "absolutely!" "way to go, abe!" or something very much along those lines. However, since then, life has been a roller coaster.

The current post has been seeded by a small revelation. I got up yesterday morning to see my Orkut fan list gone up to complete a century!!! Now that's 100 people who really think that Saumya Jain is fannable material. Oh! And Abby Baby said I can't fool so many people!

Wonder what they find so "fan"ciful in me? In any case, the feeling is just "fan"tastic.

:D

Rant!

2006-07-08T15:05:00.000+05:30

[Rant Advisory : Today I am in a real rant mood.]

Why is it like this?
Why can I not sit down to study?
Why do people not do what they oughta do?
Why can't they look at the bigger picture?
Why can they not give up a little bit of selfishness to see a smile on another face?
Why do I end up doing things I didn't even think of? And not-doing the ones I dreamt of?
Why does my work keep piling up and me still keep accepting more?
Why are there so many whys in my mind right now?
Why can I not find any answers to these whys?
Why do I always end up with a feeling of something left to be improved?
Why do I not see the other half of the moon?
Why do I want to see the other half?
Why can I not think of anyhting else to type now?
Ok.

There, feeling much much better now!

Hope?...

2006-07-08T05:18:00.000+05:30

Hope.

Just say yes, and I shall wait.
Just say yes, write my fate.
Just say yes, I want you to.
Just say yes, and say it true.

I shall wait, and wait for you.
I shall wait, till you're through.
I shall wait, from now to ever.
I shall wait, and hope forever.

Completed Saturday, July 08 2006, 05:27 A.M.

Write my fate...Just say yes.

Me in suuuuuper romantic mode these days. This poem was an old one but incomplete. Today I got down to complete it and published it here just to add to the whole romance.

Did something happen? I dunno.
Did someone say something? I dunno.
Did I think that someone said something? I dunno.

Man, romance kills reason! But whaddaheck, its soooo goooooood!!!

No Comments. :)

Street-side revelation...

2006-07-05T23:31:00.000+05:30

Scene : IITK Main Road, 5:00 in the evening

Players : A sick, nauseatic Rakshit Kachhal and a sicker Saumya Jain moving towards IITK Gate to buy some medicines for the ever-so-puke-happy Kachhal.

~~~
Saumya : Yaar aaj tune kuchh ajeeb notice kiya? [Did thee notice something astrange today, my friend?]
Rakshit : Nahin toh, kya? Koi baat hai? Bol? [I am afraid not. Pray tell me what it is.]
Saumya : Yaar yeh aaj saari chhoriyaan laal kapde kyun pehne hain? [Cannot continue translating this text in chaste english, it will lose its fun. Get in touch with a Hindi speaking Indian to know what's going on here. End of translation]
Rakshit : Hain?
Saumya : Arre main keh raha hoon aaj jitni bhi ladkiyaan dikh rahi hain, mostly sabhi ne laal kapde pehne hue hain. Yeh achhee baat nahi hai. Inko pata hona chahiye ki laal kapdon se chhoron ko kuchh kuchh hota hai.
Rakshit : Hota hai kya?
Saumya : Aur kya, nahin hota?
Rakshit : Haan yaar, hota to hai.
Saumya : Hain na? Waise main soch raha tha, laal hi kyun?
Rakshit : ...
Saumya : ...
...
...
Rakshit : Abey woh issliye kyunki apun jaise saand type ladkon par laal rang ka hi asar hota hai!
Saumya : mmmmppphhhh!!!
Rakshit : muahahahahaa!!!
~~~

:)

Long live the Cold War...

2006-06-28T07:00:00.000+05:30

Have a look at this...

When Sputnik burst onto the national scene, there was a rapid and sustained whir of public opinion condemning the Eisenhower administration for neglecting the American space program. The Sputnik crisis reinforced for many [xix] people the popular conception that Eisenhower was a smiling incompetent; it was another instance of a "do-nothing," golf-playing president mismanaging events. G. Mennen Williams, the Democratic governor of Michigan, even wrote a poem about it:

Oh little Sputnik, flying high
With made-in-Moscow beep,
You tell the world it's a Commie sky
and Uncle Sam's asleep.

You say on fairway and on rough
The Kremlin knows it all,
We hope our golfer knows enough
To get us on the ball.

It was a shock, creating the illusion of a technological gap and providing the impetus for a variety of remedial actions.

My two cents...The Commies and Yanks battle it out, Indians take the best of both worlds by keeping Non-Aligned!!!

Long live the Cold War, long live NAM!!!

Working, Shirking...

2006-06-28T02:07:00.000+05:30

The title of the post is inspired by a book named "Fasting, feasting" by Anita Desai, not that I have read the book, but yes the title seemed interesting, and I shamelessly lifted the idea in this post of mine.

Life's been tough, to use a cliché, I've been working like hell lately. On second thoughts, though, have I?

Sometimes...(no, all the time infact!) I have around 10 things to be done which I write down on a little chit of paper so that I don't forget that these have to be done. But then guess what? I forget to look at that chit. It sits conveniently in my shirt pocket, and is doomed to be washed by the washerman with the laundry!

Coming on a more serious note...does a lot of effort mean a lot of work? Personally, I think it is not the case. For me, a BIGTIME procrastinator, work is a headache, which unfortunately I have incorporated in my lifestyle. So the headache is always there. I love having the tension at the back of my mind that there's a lot to do, when actually the case is, that I can do all that I have to do in a matter of hours, if I set down to do them.

For example, the room that I live in is crying out to be cleaned, even the spiders have become sick of the old cobwebs. They are waiting for me to provide them with fresh new ground to house themselves. Hardly a couple of hours' job, but being postponed to "tomorrow" for almost 4 months now. Am still waiting for the tomorrow. The bad thing is, I am convincing myself against taking up new activities because _my room is not clean_ so it pretty much amounts to shirking responsibility on the pretext of completing another pending one, which eventually shall not be done.

I don't really know what's gotten into me, I have always been lazy, but the irresponsibility I have been showing lately is phenomenol even by my standards! Vinod advises me to "suit up", which is just the thing I need to do, but then...
...
...
...
I have to clean my room before that!!!

God save my lazy soul.

Suicide Note # 1 : Dear Family...

2006-06-25T13:32:00.000+05:30

Hello Mom, Dad, KJ...

Probably you miss me, probably mamma goes to sleep with a heavy heart, probably papa utters a deep sigh whenever he thinks of me, probably a tear trickles down KJ's lovely little eyes at times when she is reminded of her brother.

I want to tell you, I might not have been a good son and a good brother, but I've always tried to be one, and it is so because I have been around such good people as yourselves. Mom, Dad, thank you for making me who I am, for showing me the world as best as it could have been shown ever. KJ, thank you for being my cute little doll for 19 wonderful years. I am not that bad you know, I always want you to have the best, I might be a little tough and rude, but most of the time it is for your own good, beta.

Papa, I was a bad boy when I smoked and took to drinking without telling you all. I wanted to, but that would be too embarrassing for me to say out aloud. It would hurt you. It would hurt me to know that I have not kept the faith you showed in me. I did not want to tell you because I did not want you to feel that your kid has gone astray. I had, papa. I had.
I know you have great dreams for me, and I really suck at not being working towards them. I could have been a little more responsible and a little more "myself" and acheived what I truly deserved. I didn't. Neither did I become my true inner self, nor could I acheive what I could have. I love you for still wanting me to.

Mummy, you are my responsibility. Or I always thought so. If I want a didi in my future births, I would want you to be the one. Maybe even in this life you are just like an elder sister to me. I remember a very young and tiny Saumya sitting on the dressing table, trying out Mummy's bindis and lipstick. I remember a toddler running around avoiding a bath, I remember you holding my chin and combing my hair, readying me up for school, playing with me around the house, bringing food and water right down at my study table, pushing me out of the house for fresh air, making halwa at times when I needed it the most :)
No. I cannot recall how much you have done for me. I don't want to. I cannot even say thanks. I don't want to. I love you ma.

KJ, I told you, you have been my little dolly all along. I just cannot forget the little gudiya calling out "aiyya" because she was so little she couldn't even pronounce "bhaiyya" properly. I'll probably cherish that sound till my final moments. I remember the cat and dog fights we used to have and took the whole houselhold as hostage. I remember finishing up my ice-cream/chocolate/biscuit quickly and then pestering you to part with yours. I remember distributing cold drinks in glasses ever so finely equally balanced as though they had been measured, and still managing to get more for myself. I remember cheating you on every little occasion I could, not because I was smarter, but because I knew that you trusted me blindly enough and that even if you found out, you wouldn't mind. I knew you wouldn't mind. Despite all the show of "I really don't think I should believe you" that you keep giving me, I know that you really love me a lot and take me very seriously whenever I have something to say. I would just say, no daughter of mine could give me more affection than you have showered me with as a chhoti sister. Just remain the same sweet self that you are, and don't forget to call out for "aiyya" in case things don't turn out your way. I'll be there.

See you all, bye.

A String of Suicide Notes...

2006-06-25T02:56:00.000+05:30

As per an old agreement with Vinod, I am writing a series of possible suicide notes hence on...

By the way, it should be unnecessary to say this, but for the more concerned lot of you, "I am not contemplating wilful cessation of my life"... Its just that I (rather, we) thought of this to be a nice idea to spew our guts about what we think about certain things.

This series of suicide notes would sometimes be reflective, sometimes comic, sometimes wise, sometimes otherwise.

Bear with me please, oh and while I am thinking up something to write in my opening note, you can have a look at Vinod's suicide note here.

Happy Reading.

The Profile Pic...

2006-06-14T23:53:00.000+05:30

The one that was voted out

Guess it is high time that I changed my Profile Picture.
Two reasons.

One -> There have been at least 2 (two) confirmed cases of this pic being rated as a psychotic killer out on the loose, which, undoubtedly, I am not, thus the pic is essentially not Saumya-esque in attitude, hence needs to make an exit.

AND Two -> Some people have also expressed the opinion that the picture is unlike myself in form as well. "It doesn't look like you, Saumya"

A change of image is always nice, especially if it's for the better image, eh?

So here it is, boys n gals, the all new and improved me!!!

Folks, we have a new contender!

The Really Crap Post...

2006-06-04T03:10:00.000+05:30

Well, there comes a time on every blog page when the author loses the interest [slash] time [slash] energy [slash] inclination [slash] incentive to post new material on the blog.

Having said that, I must say, I haven't !!!

So I come up with an absolute crap post like this to bugger all of you (umm...that makes me wonder if "all of you" isn't a bit of exaggeration, I mean, how many from the homo sapiens clan would actually read my blog, by the way?)

Also, since I have set down to "blog", then why not me talk about something interesting. How about an advice post. Or maybe a DIY post. Hmm, DIY is good (you see I am making this all up as I am typing, and I have made a promise to myself that I will not step back and delete anything that I have typed, so all this, folks is impromptu typing that you are reading all along!)

So where were we? Yes, the DIY post.

SO that raises a very pertinent question, what is it that the whole world might need a DIY for, especially coming from me? Thinking of what, I get a perfect idea. So here it is people, the DO IT YOURSELF for ANYTHING and EVERYTHING in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD, commonly known as DIYAEWWW. (Not a very pleasing acronym no? Well they say that appearances are deceptive, read the theory that follows now)

So, DIYAEWWW. Here it is.

Step 1. Think it.
Step 2. Do it.
Step 3. Forget it.

That is all about it. In those 6 words I have summarised all my knowledge gathered so far from anything that I have learned. Am open to dicussion on this. Really. Call me up, chat up with me, drop me a message, a comment. I'll make sure you get the theory.

This post started out as a crap post, but now I am wondering, if it really is ending as one. I have ACTUALLY compressed everything I knew in those 3 steps. And I am not trying to be funny here.

Give it a thought, it might strike you sometime. If it doesn't, I am there to hit you with the reality. Try me.

Friendship, Love, Marriage...

2006-05-16T04:54:00.000+05:30

I dunno what made me write this, but then I AM writing this.

**If I love you, then it doesn't really mean that I expect you to love me. I know this.

**If you don't love me as of now, I'll wait till either (a) you begin to love me, or (b) you marry someone else. I will wait.

**If you love me as well, then too, we may still not end up marrying. I realise this.

**(By some strange whim of mine,) I would want to marry you, but it is too early to finalise anything. I accept this.

**If we end up marrying, we are supposed to be happy. I am not promising this, but honestly, I know, we will try, IF we end up marrying that is.

**There are a lot of "if"s here, but I do know one thing is certain...I would love you no matter what...It is the way I am made, and I really can not do anything about it, and frankly speaking, I don't WANT to do anything about it.

Confused?...Well, here's a hint. This message is for a very special person (SP), and you see this blog is one way to reach out to her. If you are not that SP, RELAX! You are fortunate that I ain't after you. (Trust me, if SP could testify, you would consider yourself lucky!)

Most of the rational people in this world would agree to this chronological order of Friendship turning into Love which moves on to Marriage. Unfortunately, Love Corrupts Rationality and thus I am of the view that SP caused me to think about marriage to her, which drew me close to see if we could be friends. Love is another issue altogether.

Atul tells me (and probably the only meaningful thing I have learnt from him) is that professing your love to the object of one's affection is something one should do at the earliest, but expecting the same in return is just not good. Love grows if it aint there, but it needs space to grow, and still it may not grow with a particular set of individuals. So should that mean that I don't befriend SP? Or that our friendship is of no consequence? No, aint so. We are friends, and we remain so, no matter what happens. Getting married to SP could be the most wonderful thing that would have happened to me, but then it is only a wish. (As a child I "wished" to become a Truck Driver! Thankfully my father got the better of me and I ended up in engineering) It is a wish that I will cherish and nurture as long as I can hope. But the bond of friendship shall remain, through thick and thin, just like all my buddies.

See ya!

On Orkut...

2006-05-16T02:37:00.000+05:30

So dear ardent reader of saumyajain.blogspot.com, today I shall be ranting about a social network portal called Orkut. [psst...basically the motive of this post is to list down my Orkut Communities on my Blog, but I can't just do that, that would be too selfish you see, hence I have to pitch in some lines before the list and after the list as well ;)...]

Anyhow, those of you who have been reading my blogs earnestly would know that at one point of time I was not too confident, nor too optimistic about this particular platform. However, lately, I have been using Orkut to my advantage and I must confess that despite all its problems Orkut is still a good way to find people you've missed for a long long time. I have been contacted and have myself hunted down school mates, old pals and random people from my memory through Orkut, not to mention made some new friends as well.

One thing that I find to be my moral responsibility is to make it clear to anyone who reads my blog and uses Orkut is the correct pronounciation of Orkut. It's pronounced as "Aur-Cut" (Rhyming with "shut" and not "foot")

'Nother thing that comes to my mind is that people should also know that it was started by a person called Orkut Buyokkokten who is a God level computer guy studying at Stanford (I believe) who thought up this concept and programmed it as well. Look up his profile at Orkut if you are a member of this wonderful concept.

Back to business. Actually Orkut has this profile of me, in which I write about myself and other people can read it and come to know about me. There is also a system of Communities where people sign up and then they can post on that community's notice board as well as send messages to all the members of that community. Now as of today, my community count is 57, and I wonder what that means, because I really aint active (posting wise or message wise) on any of these communities, but somehow or the other I really identify myself with these communities. Here's a list to make this post worthwhile, and also to indicate the things I am interested in. Now potential employers, future spouse's parents or anybody who wants to do a background check on me is welcome to ask me about any or all of these communities, in fact even if you don't, I assume that a reading up of this list would pretty much make up yuor mind about the "type" of person I am...

Here goes the list (in no particular order)
01. Photography
02. Procrastination
03. IIT Kanpur
04. Puzzles
05. Tintin
06. Calvin n Hobbes
07. IQ
08. Brain Teasers
09. People Watchers
10. Malgudi Days
11. Women who wear skirts [Clarification : Now don't start thinking up weird things, I joined this coz I love such women]
12. Paradoxes
13. Capricorn
14. Amitabh Bachchan
15. Corleone
16. Gulzaar
17. Hall 3 IIT Kanpur
18. Abhishek Bachchan Fans
19. IIT
20. Most Sensual/Exciting Pictures
21. IITK ke Aero Waale [Translation : The Aerospace people of IITK]
22. Ham Club@IITK
23. Utpal Dutt and Amol Palekar
24. Aerospace IITK
25. Jainism
26. IITK Counselling Service
27. I Dream of Jeannie [The sitcom]
28. Y3 IITK
29. Dexter's Laboratory
30. KVPY Scholars
31. Indian Institute of Technology
32. Old Doordarshan Serials
33. Full House
34. Irfan Khan
35. Small Wonder
36. The Poetry Ring
37. EBooks Sharing
38. Born in 1985
39. Apeejay School Noida
40. Class Bunnkers [Ironic, it comes just after my School's community :P]
41. Fans of Byomkesh Bakshi
42. The Common Man - By R.K.Laxman
43. Middle of the Road Movies
44. MT
45. Ambidextrous
46. Sarkar [The Bollywood Movie]
47. Surabhi [A Television Program that used to be aired at the National TV Network]
48. I love JIA [A character from the STAR Plus sitcom "Shararat"]
49. IIT Lingo
50. Non Stop Nonsense
51. Aeromodelling Club, IIT Kanpur
52. Ham Club @ IIT Kanpur
53. U.P-Jains
54. BRiCS [_B_uild _R_obots _C_reate _S_cience, a group at IITK aiming to popularise Robotics as a hobby]
55. My Experiments with Truth
56. Abby se peedit log [Translation : People pissed off by Abby, a guy around]
57. I joined too many Communities [This community DOES exist, no kidding!]

Now my friend Mudit Bali from Apeejay School writes in his Orkut profile - "Let my communities speak for me...", I say ditto.

How Nerdy/Geeky/Dorky Am I?

2006-04-30T02:40:00.000+05:30

Now normally I don't take these kinds of tests, but then I did use the word "normally" back there.

:)

Pure Nerd
69 % Nerd, 47% Geek, 13% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork."

No-longer.

Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.

Congratulations!

THE "NERD? GEEK? OR DORK?" TEST

So there, am an official NERD now.

Most Hilarious Ice Breaker...

2006-04-29T06:14:00.000+05:30

(courtesy Ballia)

Ballia to XYZ female on her Orkut Scrapbook : Hi! Pehchaana?
XYZ female to Ballia on his Orkut Scrapbook : Nahin :(
Ballia to XYZ female on her Orkut Scrapbook : Pehchaanogi bhi kaise? Abhi aaj hi toh pehli baar mile hain!!!

When Ballia told me this incident, I was laughing for at least 5 minutes. Not only the situation and the dialogue, but also the way he speaks and recalls it...absolutely wonderful!

Coming Soon...Who IS Ballia?

An Ode To Myself...

2006-04-29T06:07:00.000+05:30

I found this poem on the net. It is by a gentleman who goes (actually "went" would be more apt here) by the name of Isaac Watts (1674-1748) . I found it almost like an ode written for me. Hence I reproduce it as it was found.

The Sluggard

'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain,
'You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber again.'
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,
Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head.

'A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;'
Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number,
And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands,
Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands.

I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier,
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher;
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;
And his money still wastes thill he starves or he begs.

I made him a visit, still hoping to find
That he took better care for improving his mind;
He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drinking;
But he scarce reads his Bible and never loves thinking.

Said I then to my heart, 'Here's a lesson for me,
This man's but a picture of what I might be;
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding,
Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.'

...and yes, for regular readers of this blog, you would be glad to know that Vinod Khare turned 21 today, which he claims is going to remain his static age for the rest of his life. He is of the opinion that one stops growing beyond 21. Well, I differ. We don't stop growing, but we certainly have cemented our personalities by this age. We can say we cease to be that impressionable kid we used to be, and face the world with our own set of opinions and ideas ("idiosyncrasies", for the lack of a better word!)

So anyways, here's wishing Vinod a very happy birthday, and congratulations to him on adding to the list of Eligible Bachelors (he turned 21!) of this institute. [smiles]

An Ironic IM Conversation...

2006-04-25T06:36:00.000+05:30

[He] : Hi!
[She]: Hello.
[He] : Fine?
[She]: Fine.
[He] : Fine!
[She]: O.K.
[He] : Bye?
[She]: Yes.
[He] : Yes?
[She]: Yes.
[He] : Fine.
[She]: Yes.
[He] : Fine?
[She]: Yes, bye.
[He] : Awww shucks, bye.
[She]: What happened?
[He] : Nothing...
[She]: Why the "Awww shucks"?
[He] : Nothing.
[She]: Tell me, tellme tellme tellme.
[He] : Its nothing...
[She]: No, there definitely is something, you are hiding something from me.
[He] : No, my dear, I am not.
[She]: No I get it, you don't want to talk. Look you don't even respond properly to my messages!
[He] : Is it so?
[She]: Now don't play funny, you are definitely avoiding me (sniff,sob!)
[He] : :|

At this point "He" disconnects and gets back to watching cricket on Television, while "She" rushes to a friend seeking advice on how to tackle a difficult boyfriend.

Ladies are a strange lot.

The Do-Nothingers!

2006-04-23T14:08:00.000+05:30

(inspired by a heavy discussion and an internet chat session that followed it)

The Do-Nothingers (I invented this name) is a group of 6 very very vehla (unbusy) IITians forced by a cruel turn of fate to end up enrolling at IIT Kanpur for getting their Bachelor's Degree. Here's one way to market this concept...

They are not people whom you would generally see around in a place like this. They are the real McCoys. They are real people. They are amidst you. They've got great camouflage skills, they can merge into a group as if they are an integral part of the regular heave and grind of this institute.

However.

When these six people, again by a twist of fate, happen to come together in a hostel room, they become the most volatile entity that mankind has ever known. An event happened in the early hours of April 23, starting from the previous midnight itself, and went on till 3:00 in the morning, but within those three hours, the destiny of the world was changed forever.

Heh heh heh heh, do you believe all this? Let me try again

The Do-Nothingers are actually 6 people who are extremely gifted by nature with a strange power that drives them to a bulla (incessant chit chat) session, no matter what the time and whatever the occassion (it being an end semester examination the next day, in the present case). As the name suggests, we actually DO nothing (with a special emphasis on DO). We just go on bullshitting and whiling away our time. It's an assortment across various engineering departments, and across various hobbies. However, all the Do-Nothingers are great intellectuals in their own right. They meet and discuss very very pertinent and important issues related to the future of society. AND they have the wisdom to realise that these issues are much much MUCH more important than the small petty things like classes, quizzes, exams, grades etc. As I said, REAL INTELLECTUALS.

Before we proceed further, I think we should get acquainted with them (in alphabetical order)

Akshay Mathur (Materials and Metallurgical Engineering) : A MAJOR geek, living off Linux Flavours and Star Trek. Was the Computer Room Secretary of our Hall of Residence, wherein he realised the true noble pleasure of helping others out despite your own problems, complicated his life and simplified his grades since then. These days is still found loitering around blabbering about PHP Scripting, Web Designing, Programming and the latest Star Trek Season. It would be inappropriate to mention here that he has to be pushed by his wingmates to take a bath every fortnight. (But lo, I did mention it!) Fresh out of the bathroom, he is cute and huggable.

Ankit Rohatgi (Chemical Engineering) : The real inventive engineer. The most versatile guy I have ever known. The God of Small Important Stuff. I mean, who thinks up of a mobile lighting unit for an amateur movie using UPSs? Or Microphone booms for the same movie using bamboos? Or cutting your toothpaste box into half and using it as a pen stand? Or experimenting with life, universe and everything? That is Ankit. We call him Huggy. Statutory warning : Interaction time for normal human beings limited to before midnight. After midnight, you talk to Huggy at your own risk. This guy is most productive at that time of the day, as well as most ruthless! And yes, he too drinks Linux for breakfast. Before you make up your mind about this guy, I should tell you, as a Chemical Engineer, he is always on the lookout for blowing a plant, spreading a vicious chemical onto a sleepy town or something like that. (I borrowed my first copy of the "Anarchist's Cookbook" from him!)

Atul Jain (Civil Engineering) : The quintessential journalist. He could convince you of anything that he says, and I for once had even gotten into believing his advertised philosophy of "sirf hungaama khada karna mera maksad nahin, main chaahta hoon ki yeh tasveer badlalni chahiye" [Only raising an uproar is not what I seek, I want that the situation should change] Inspiring words na? Yes, that is the beauty of it all. He inspired me. But then, once we became friends, through more deep conversations, I've realised that what he actually meant was "Tasveer ki aisi ki taisi, keval hungaama khada karna hi mera maksad hai" [To hell with the situation, I revel in chaos and pandemonium!] There has not been a single major incident/uprising in which Atul Jain was not involved as an opinion. Be it the Hall 5 election issue, the Eve Teasing thread or the Aircraft Crash video in which even I was involved. It was a small RC airplane that had crashed during an airshow, and we covered it like a news team does, adding spice and masala, involving the Prime Minister as well as "the foreign hand". Basically, a determined person with an opinion on anything, and generally that opinion is against the general opinion, but man! he is so convincing.

Rakshit Kachhal (Mechanical Engineering) : Kachhal is the typical nice, hardworking boy next door. But he aint that average when it comes to his passion and dedication. An excellent PR expert, knows everybody around, can talk people into getting things done. He is a person of a kind I haven't met anywhere else, nor do I believe I will. He is not only unique in his own identity, but even in his whole "type". Iss type ke log nahin milte, hote hi nahin hain. [People of his type are not easy to find, coz they don't exist!] Loves music, all kinds, loves dancing, loves life. He lives a grand life. Enjoys each and every bit of it. At the long and short of it, he's a Do-Nothinger. He really has had his share of doing things. He has already done a major thing in life. He is the "Kholu" of Mechanical Department of our batch. (meaning, he's the best JEE ranker who opted for Mech at IITK) That speaks it all.

Vinod Khare (Civil Engineering) : He's the author. The shy, reclusive, pessimistic, sadistic, pervert who churns out excellent stuff (mostly Sci-Fi). He is an authority on Science Fiction. A very very deep thinker and philosopher. The shades of grey in his hair lend him the name Daddu. His department people call him an endsem specialist, coz he rocked a course in the 5th semester by scoring almost full marks in the end sem, when most of the class was lingering at 50%! A man without desires, or atleast an expression of desires. Content with whatever he has. And one more thing, really drools for eye candy on his desktop. The most weirdest of small widgets are available with him, as well the choiciest of wallpapers. Reads like a lawnmower, always found reading some crappy sci-fi story, if not writing one. You should look at him becoming pessimistic. Its almost infective. But its kindof cute.

Saumya Jain (Aerospace Engineering) : He is the sanest, coolest and THE most modest person of this group (broke the alphabetical order to put my name in the end!) Also, the most far removed from institutional things like exams and all. (I have an exam in less than 24 hours from now, and I started typing this post when I had 25, heh heh! A genuine Do-Nothinger) He is popular in the batch as the "Kholu" of Aerospace. Now unlike the kholu of Mechanical Engineering, who is reverred for his decision to take up Mechanical when he could have opted for Electrical, or even Computer Science (HOT streams, I dunno why), the kholu of Aerospace Engineering is branded as an unfortunate fool, driven by passion alone. The kholu of Aerospace forgoes a bright career in Mechanical Engineering and chooses Aerospace, ignited by watching flying Aircraft or Rockets taking off. People here tell him, yeh tumne kya kar diya dost, apne hi paer par kulhaadi maar li ? [What have you done friend, scripted your own doom?] I say BOO to them. They don't know what fun it is to handle only 4 courses in a sem when the poor "mechanical" people have to take 6! More so, these people don't realise that we need Aerospace Engineers more than Mechanical ones, what with the Indian Space Programme taking off by the end of this decade. Anyways, that was not the topic of discussion. So Saumya Jain...now what do I say about myself? Just that my role in the Do-Nothinger meetings is that of a moderator. Am slightly political, so I can actually take the meeting on one direction in return of a favour. Everyone knows this, so they don't give me favours, and hence the meetings remain indecisive. I guess that is enough.

So these were the six people that make up the Do-Nothingers. About what we discuss, I'll cover that in the next post. I guess I really should set myself down to study some Gas Dynamics, before it is too late.

Inviting "her" to Orkut

2006-04-23T07:28:00.000+05:30

Now this is a dilemma many of us would have faced.

Suppose then, that you have a close friend who, unfortunately for you, is a girl. Now, upon the issue that she wants to discover the "fundoo network of orkut", its left upto you to defend yourself, as to why you don't wanna invite her over to this "fundoo network".

My reasons...

Orkut is not a social network. It is a highly unsocial (anti social, if you may) gang of equally highly unsocial (anti social, if you may again) people. It thus is a forum for those kind of people to join hands who either (a) have no work to do at all except "orkutting" or (b) are definitely involved in some seditious act of overthrowing their respective governments.

Orkuteers, the one falling in the category described in 1(a) are essentially people who are on the internet almost whole of their awake part of the day. That counts in IITians, by far the most obnoxious female-hunters in the human species that I have come across. They would lap up, and add, and scrap, and view any profile that is even remotely "female". Even my profile gets hit now and then with people taking me to be a girl, by virtue of my name. Now would I want one of my friends to enter a community of SeFIs (Sexually frustrated IITians?) Hmm...maybe no.

Also, for the non-SeFIs, it is quite a curious thing to land up on Saumyä Jain's profile, look at a particular girl in the friend's list and ask..."Oye Saumya, yeh kaun hai?" [Hey Saumya, who's her?] Now again, if I say, "She's a friend", then would these nosy pokers stop at that? ... maybe no. And till the time she is a friend, I wouldn't want any @$$40l3 nosy neighbourhood BBC (Bahut Bada Chaman) to invent stories about us and spread it around.

So I let it be at that. 3 reasons are good enough not to invite her to this absolutely wonderful way to meet new friends and find old ones, Orkut.

You don't get an invite from me, dear lady.

...On Why I'll Never Drink Again

2006-03-13T03:48:00.000+05:30

Typical day today...

Woke up at 11:00 a.m. and cursed myself the second thing (the first being noticing the time) of the day. With THAT fantastic start, went on to watch a few videos and whiled away my time upto the afternoon.

Entertained visitors and ended up with a pocket lighter by 50 bucks, had to give a "friend" some money for "some urgent work".

Celebrated Holi in the Hostel with whatever 50-60 guys who are here staying back, ended up not recognising myself in the mirror, amidst the shades of red, blue, green and yellow!!!
Had a tought time getting cleaned up and thereafter caught up with Dubey (old friend, for the uninitiated).

Now here's where the masala (spice) begins.
Dubey and I are very very impulsive people, espcially when it comes to partying and having fun. So we 'decided' that we should just spend the evening at "Dominoes" (a pizza place, for the uninitiated, heh heh). So there I was, shelling out 303 bucks for 2 pizzas that would have costed the lala (owner) of dominoes not more than 50 rupees to produce. Call it high society luxury, or call it extravagance, or call it...wait, let's keep THAT for a later post.

...Anyways, WE found out (and I found out for the second time) that two medium sized pizas are waay too much for two people to devour. So, we kind-of finished the pizza (and made the rest of it look like unedible, before throwing it away) and started back home.

IIT Kanpur (my college) has its main gate opening to the GT Road, a major highway of North India. So basically, the tempo that we catch from the city (yeah we call it that, a "city", we love to say that our college is in a "city", a big "almost-metro-like city"...sigh!...hey i am not good at this!!!), so anyways, the tempo that we take from the city stop to IIT spends most of its time on the GT road.

Now a kilometer before the IIT Gate, we both have a devilish thought, we both think about getting drunk. Now I had spent money on drinks once but had failed miserably at attempted binging, so I was not quite much into the idea of getting drunk. But Dubey, my friend, is a good friend, he won't let me accept defeat so easily. He gave me another chance.

So two minutes and 130 bucks later, we were the proud owners of a Romanov 375 ml. bottle. Hey...wait a minute, this is turning out to be a Drinking 101 case study...anyhow who cares the fuck about that?...so there we were, all equipped with Romanov, Sprite and two glasses.

Dubey poured me the first peg and told me to take it easy. Meanwhile Shukla (don't just yell out "Shukla Who?" right now...read on and you'll come to know...) told me to try a neat one. I gulped a neat one in a bottle cap. It burnt my insides. I felt strange. Sick actually. Not because of anything else, but the taste and the smell reminded me of Cough Syrups. and that made me sick. With a bottle-capful of Vodka inside, I overheard Dubey telling Shukla, "Yaar vodka toh shots mein hi peeni chahiye" ("Buddy, vodka is best enjoyed in shots, not as a drink") and I was inspired.

Gulped down the first peg. and the second. and the third.
By that time, we were at Dubey's room listening to racy numbers courtesy Shukla, and yes before I forget, Shukla was there to take care of us, in case either of us lost it. Now the bottle was only one-third full. (take inspiration, i could also have said, two thirds empty...now does that show something about my personality, or does it?) So the fourth peg was almost a full glass, especially after Dubey had mixed it with the Soft Drink.

There we were, all pegged up ;) and waiting for something to happen.

And then, Nothing happened.

Nothing.

Zook, zeroh, zilch.

I started fiddling with Photoshop, worked on a picture of a girl, a very beautiful girl, adding some Glow and Focus, so as to make it look like "one of those" pictures (heck I even wrote, "A (that's her name), Say yes...please", but I am not gonna tell you that) However, that was not a part of being drunk. We sat down to watch a movie. And it had to be "Jerry Maguire". It had to be romance. It had to be Zellweger and Cruise. Oh Shit! just couldn't handle all that mush. Dubey was conspicuously silent after the round of drinks. Anyways, I watched the movie, bid adieu to Dubey and started off for my room.

Vodka does something to you, I do feel that. My hands and legs stop responding in their usual way and my eyes droop a bit. But that's all that is there. If I am alive and mentally fit after 4 proper pegs, I guess somebody up there really hates me, I guess THAT SOMEBODY does not want me to get drunk, does not want me to lose it. Shukla is out of business when I drink. And I hate it.

...P.S. : After I came to my room, I chatted up with an old friend in B'lore and then wrote this post. This Post. THIS POST THAT NEVER FELT LIKE IT HAD BEEN WRITTEN BY A DRUNK GUY. God I want to lose myself. God I don't want to spend all that money and end up literally drinking Sprites and 7 Ups only. God have some mercy. Till then, God, I'll never drink again.

"Fi.L.L.Ex", or, "Musings before an exam"

2006-03-11T02:09:00.000+05:30

I sit down to write this on the "eve" (if you may deem it so, its 2:30 a.m. actually!) of my Flight Mechanics Mid Term examination...so it's gonna be short and snappy.

The First Law of the Last Exam (Fi.L.L.Ex) :
The last examination of any series of exams has the inherent property that deems it doomed the day it is announced.

Fi.L.L.Ex. for Dummies :
(Read "For the Mathematically Uninitiated")
In a string of examinations, like the Mid Semesters, the End Semesters or whatevathehell, the subject whose examination is scheduled on the last slot of 'em all, is bound to be fudged up by the incumbent(look it up!) examinee.

Proof :
This proof is going to be chiefly theoretical in nature, and investigations shall be made so as to cover all the possible outcomes, of which only the said event is designated to occur, as we shall soon see.

Now supposing you have N exams in M days.

The Nth exam is scheduled on the Mth day, which is the last slot of your examinations.

Now let us denote your Average Performance Satisfaction (APS -> Your self-evaluation for the N-1 exams) by a value amidst the following :-

APS -> Interpretation
0...Whoops! Exams? Shit! Uh-Oh!!! (Seriously fudged 'em up)
1...Hmm, Exams? Yeah, had 'em, gave 'em. (I don't care)
2...Well, well, well, Exams? Yeaaah! (Yaay! I'm gonna top this time!)

So, once we have decided upon your APS, we can correlate the APS with the performance in the final exam.

Case APS==0 : Now since you have really not performed well in the other exams, you don't have any motivation/self-confidence/desire to perform well in this one as well. Basically we are talking about "Oh I am so much deep in this, I just can't get any deeper, so what the hell! I just can't study!" kind of a feeling.

Case APS==1 : Hey you are one guy/gal who doesn't care about the exam. How can the exam care about you? Case closed. Getting screwed up is the result.

Case APS==2 :I bet you are already so so SO elated at cracking the other exams, you'll be puffed up with confidence, and eventually will not study for the final one. Classic case of "I am the king of the world" syndrome.

Thus, it is seen that the examination, unfortunately will be screwed up.

Corollary 1 to Fi.L.L.Ex :
Although the APS value seemingly has an inductive effect on the performance in the last paper, however, by virtue of the argument stated in proving Fi.L.L.Ex above, has absolutely no implication on the result thereof.
.
.
.
.
GOD SAVE MY FLIGHT MECHANICS EXAMINATION...

The AboutMe Post

2006-03-05T15:24:00.000+05:30

Now the first post announcing my arrival to the blog-o-sphere done, I sit down to write my first "meaningful" post.

What could count as a meaningful post? I mean, what do I blog about?

Do I blog about myself?
Do I write about things in my life?
About things going on around?
About things that "should be" going on around?
Do I write poems/stories/articles and post here?
Do I vomit out anything about anything that comes to my mind?
Or do I just see what happens and let things flow?

I really don't know.

Well, for starters, I can talk about myself. That is one thing I do well. If you know me personally you'll know what I am talking about. But then even if you don't, I guess you WILL at the end of this post.

Let's make it more interesting. Let me frame it like a FAQ...

Q. Who is Saumya Jain?

A. Saumya Jain is...

...male, Indian, b. Jan 7 1985
...a student of Aerospace Engineering at the Indian Institute of Technology Kanpur
...a very vehla(adj. "someone who has all the time in the world to do all the nonsense under the sun, or the moon, if you rather!") person
...available for gup-shup(v. "chatting") anytime you want
...a difficult-to-handle friend (ask my friends, the close ones)
...relatively easy to be overawed by anybody. Sometimes even a two year old can put me into self-contemplation
...definitely a non-conformist, ego-ecccentric, sadistic, procastinating, burnt-out genius
...a blatantly honest and blunt mouth

...hopelessly in love with someone :)

Guess that does it for today.

More FAQs next time, promise.

~Enjoy the little things, for one day you might look back and realise that they were the big things~

Figure o' Eight

2006-03-02T17:15:00.000+05:30

A Story that I'll call "The Figure of Eight".

Once there was a boy who lived near the sea. Everyday he would run up to the sea and watch the ships as they docked and undocked from the port. He would do it regularly without fail, rising at daybreakwith the foghorn, rushing up to the dyke and observe the giant vessels coming in and going by. And he used to think of the places they had been to, and then he wished that one day he would be going exploring the world on one of these ships.

The boy's name was Sumer, and his father was a great seafarer of his time, and as any good father, he wanted his son to follow his footsteps in becoming a sailor. He had stocked a good amount of money for the boy's future, but he hadn't told the boy this, because he wanted the boy to try it out in the world on his own. The boy had been enrolled in the best school of the city that had produced the best of the sailors, ship captains, navy admirals even! "This boy is going to make it big someday" the father reflected to himself whenever he saw the boy looking eagerly at the blue blue sea and the mighty ships.

Sumer had always wanted to explore the world on his own. He did not like the things they taught him at school. "All they teach me are stupid things, like reading maps and making knots. Who'll need a map when one is going into uncharted territory?" he would think, "and why do I need to learn how to tie knots?" He knew his father wanted him to be a sailor, but he had always wanted to be an explorer instead. He'd heard about the new continent that had just been discovered just beyond the southern end of the sea. He had heard from people in taverns about the large desert there, and the ferocious animals around, and he was fascinated by these stories, he wished that someday he would sit around in an old inn with dozens of people crowding around him as he told stories of his daring.

He wanted to see new places, but a sailor's life is not what he wanted. It was a thin line that separated what his father wanted him to do and what he wanted himself, sailors and explorers are not THAT far apart as professions you see, but then to him it meant his life, and so he sometimes worried about it, hoping to tell his father someday. Yes, someday he'll tell his old man that he's just going to go out on one of these ships, and not as a sailor, but as an explorer bravely edging his way across the new continent.

The knots were what bothered him, he was never good at knots. His father said, "Son, knots are life savers, a sailor must know how to tie knots." And he could not knot. He was very bad at it. Whenever he saw someone tying a knot, he would feel sorry for himself, then think, maybe they are good at this, but they cannot read the directions from the stars as well as I do. Maybe they won't survive in the desert because they don't know about the harsh life and the scarce water. Yes, he knew what he wanted to do, yes he knew all about it, he knew he had to go on someday exploring the new continent, and he was preparing himself for it.

But he just could not tie knots.

Not that he could not because he lacked the ability to, but he did lack the motivation. He thought it useless for an explorer to tie knots the way they taught him at school. He knew to tie the "Double Stopper" which was a good strong knot and very very versatile knot as well. He thought it was eough for an explorer to know one knot, just in case, and he knew that one knot well.

He knew that one knot, the "Double Stopper" well.

That day at school, they had the knot test, and all his friends had memorised all the 50 odd knots that were there in their course. The teacher arrived and gave each one of them a pair of ropes. Now Sumer had spent the day before reading up a traveller's account of the Desert, so by the time he'd finished with the diary, it was already dark. He did not want to stay up late, so he went to his room, practised his one good knot and said his prayers before snuggling into bed.

The teacher came upto him, "Figure o' Eight" he said, and Sumer didn't know what that meant. He just looked at the teacher. An old, wrinkly man. Had been a very strict teacher. Sumer stood there with the rope in hand, and meekly said, "Sir, I know only the Double Stopper, and I can make that well." The teacher did not seem to like the idea. He repeated, "are you showing me the Figure o' Eight or not?" Sumer wasn't one of those who would just try and guess, so he said, "Sorry Sir, I don't know the Figure o' Eight. I guess I should fail the test and learn it sometime." The teacher was understanding this time. He said, "Okay Sumer, I'll meet you tomorrow by which time you should be able to learn the Figure o' Eight. Now go."

And Sumer returned that day, thinking about the "Figure o' Eight"

That was the longest night of his life. He kept thinking, kept admonishing himself, kept wondering what the Figure o' Eight would be. He was ashamed to ask anybody, to him this Figure o' Eight had suddenly become a self evaluation test. He wanted to see if he could really make himself perform that feat. He wanted to show to the teacher that he was a good student, a good learner. A simple knot had suddenly rose to becoming a means to tell himself that he would do good in life, whatever he would do, and it was not necessarily becoming a sailor or an explorer, but doing things well. But it all depended on the Figure o' Eight.

Alas! Where should he find out what the knot means. To him all the knots looked same. It was a Double Stopper that he had tied on his practice rope right now and he was fiddling with it, when it suddenly dawned on him. He looked carefully at the knot now, slightly loosened up so that the contours of the knot were clearly visible. He could make out a distinct shape, a distinct figure.

It was a Figure of the number 8!!!

Sumer couldn't believe his eyes. It was the Figure o' Eight knot. He had had it all along with him, thinking that it was something else, he had just not realised that the "Double Stopper" could also have another name, another stupid silly name like the "Figure o' Eight". He realised he was smiling to himself now, no actually laughing. How in a minute all his self doubts had melted away. How a few moments ago, this stupid silly knot was an all-out bechmark for his success or failure in life, and how in a second, it had ben reduced to a mere "Double Stopper"!

But he had learnt something.

He had seen that the Figure o' Eight was not a prize. It was him who had made it as one. It was just a stupid silly knot. And it was something that he already had with him, he already knew how to reach that "Figure o' Eight". Only he had not realised that he knew. Just knowing that he knew made all the difference. Given a situation, he would have tied the very same knot as a Double Stopper, and the teacher would have judged it as the Figure o' Eight.

He realised, that sometimes you have to give the world what it wants in its own terms, not yours.

He realised that it is important to know, but it is also important to know that you know, and to know that you know it well.

He realised that if you don't know something, its maybe something that you have not discovered yet, but that is no reason you should muse about it and raise it to the importance a performance marker.

Sumer had realised this, smiled to himself and made a "Double Stopper" again. "This is my Figure o' Eight," he said, and slowly fell into a quiet peaceful slumber, thinking of the teacher and the test the next day.

In the misty ocean, the foghorn sounded, and a ship had found its way home.

The First 'un

2006-02-21T04:15:00.000+05:30

Hellow, dear fellow !

This is practically the first one in a long long time, and as they all say...

1,2,3...
Testing...
TESTING...

System checked. OK.

Watch this space. More to come.