Reasons why my parents are the cutest in the world:
• I have yet not encountered an old couple who fight for computer games. The let-me-play, stop-hinting-me-the-next-move, my-score-is-better fights and the reasons they find to make the other move away from the computer are just adorable! Of course they keep me on wait on the phone till they finish their game before they talk to me!
• I have never ever ever seen a more enthusiastic couple when it comes to dancing. Play the music and see them dance away to glory! During navratris I remember asking my mom to stop the dance and come back home and she would say, just one last dance! It is going to get over after that! They are truly the dancing queen and king!
• I haven’t heard any parent complaining to their daughter “amma tithinaa” (your mom scolded me) everyday even if she didn’t.
• Cant imagine any other lady closing retirement taking part in her office’s national level sports meet, going places likes Pune and Allahbad for it and actually winning prizes there. That too, for weird events like long jump and table tennis! Ma, you are just out-of-the-world! Never known of a 39-year old pregnant lady taking part in an athletic race and beating all the 20-year old youth in it.
• Oh! My very passionate mom with that incredible participation spirit. She would take part in all her “hindi-divas pratiyogita” and keep reciting hindi songs and poems all through the day, so much so that even we would know every word by heart. There has been no event she knew of and didn’t participate in. Tiredness and hectic office-work are never excuses.
• So supportive they are for everything you do. All you do is study well and they are in for every little wish of yours.
• Oh my ever-talkative parents. Sometimes, I just sit spell-bound with my mom, not able to believe how innocently and candidly she can talk and talk and talk. And when it comes to my dad, the same old jokes that he cracks every now and then and laughs equally hard each time!!!! And if there is nothing much left to talk, there is the obvious “amma tithina” statement or my dad’s repetitive jokes on which he laughs as hard everytime.
• Who-on-earth has a fetish for water, collecting socks, body-splash, Tupperware and random chutka-mutka things but for my mother? Typical Moanisha character! And my dad, he would so excitedly try even female sweat-shirts unwittingly and ask how it looks on him!
• Who would wail at the top of their voice muthai-tiru-something-something while happily riding on the roads, much to the bewildered amusement of other people, especially at traffic signals!
• The very proud but innocent boasting that comes from dad that my daughters have done this and my daughters have done that to every person he can catch hold of who can be forced to listen to it. For the very reason, his insistence on asking us to keep uploading our photos online, so that he has visual proofs to his bragging big talks. And not just that, suddenly receiving 200mails in your inbox notifying you that “Venkataraman Iyer” has tagged a photo of yours! (And yes, his two-second come-on-skype calls!) Not to forget, the very embarrassing add requests from my dad on facebook, orkut and the other thousand webpages he has registered into.
• What a brilliant memory my mom seems to have. She would remember the names and specific memories of every single person I would have mentioned to her. Oh! Priyal, the girl who draws well, Oh! Shardul, the one who came home to get your Scooby-doo tazos! Oh, this guy and that girl, she just knows everybody!!!! And very contrastingly, my dad seems to forget the very friend he would have met yesterday! (Sometimes, comes to my aid, he forgets the friends he is annoyed of!)
• The couple who would just attend every bhajan-function they would know of and then on the same day go out to celebrate Valentine’s Day at SICA! And yes! Also wish their daughter valentine’s day and ask her for her plans! (Not that they would want her to have any!)
• Getting a mail which ends saying “truck full of love, Iyers” might sound cute but I also have greeting cards for my birthdays where it is signed only saying, best wishes, IYER! Not much sentiment expressed, one cannot consider it a card lovingly from a father… Pendulum of swaying sentiments or awkwardness, I guess!
Well, my emotions are always on the expressive side and so this note! TOUCHWOOD
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Pseudo Identities of a Writer!
She could have managed alone, like she eventually did. But still, one does expect a sign of care from the person who claims to love her. She had no issues walking back alone through a secluded lane at an odd hour but it mattered to her whether that person would show concern for her safety, for it would have meant he considered her to be his as much as she wanted to be his. She was hardly bothered about her safety, nothing wrong could have possibly happened but it was HIS indifference to it which pricked her as it in a way signified a small defeat: she had failed to get him express concern for her well-being. However hard she may have tried convincing him that she can walk back herself, deep inside her heart she wanted him to care enough to not let her go, to accompany her till the end, if not bragging as a strong protector but maybe just to get more time to spend with her. She was unsuccessful in creating a want in him to be with her. She obviously wouldn’t have voiced it out, for it was something one shouldn’t be told about. Yes! She was just in one of her emotional high and the rush of emotions weren’t helping her be objective. It might appear inconsequential a thing if she would think back about it, but for the moment it made a huge difference what he would say. Finally walking back alone, she did feel a little childish expecting a trifling little thing from him and getting disappointed about such a trivial thing, but disappointment was disappointment.
She rushed back home and banged the door behind her. Hurried up to her bed, held her pillow close to her to hide the rolling tears from her eyes, before anybody else sees it. Only that soft delicate roll of cotton knew of her tears, the world has never seen her in her low. She managed to let out a small tear, feeling ridiculously juvenile all the while. She thought of it for a while as at that moment, she was able to sense the feeling she had towards it. A pragmatic that she is, more than just letting the feeling sink it, she started analyzing it, scrutinizing the feeling as to what was it that was making her feel so disheartened. The insignificance of the whole incident made her smile at herself but by then she had experienced too much of the emotion to let go of it. She wanted to make the emotion hers: to possess it in some way.
Her way of owning an emotion was writing about it, making a story of it. She immediately grabbed a pen and a paper (for she liked the conventional style of writing) and passionately started to write. Just as she was about to give a name to the character, she stopped; strangely so, for she had never halted in her flow when she decided to write. This time, she didn’t feel like giving a name to her character. She wanted this story to be in first person, not impersonated by a fictional being. Each emotion that she had strongly felt was always narrated to the world in the camouflage of a different world, a different person and never being her. Sometimes it was rather tedious giving superfluous details to make sure nobody knew the parable was in fact her own story. She loved sharing her experiences but felt awkward admitting them as hers and hated being questioned by people the reason she wrote it and what is it that she is feeling now. Because by the time she starts writing about it, she is already over the feeling, having probed over it for some time. Like mentioned earlier, she deeply believed in objectivity and took sentiments also rather hard-headedly. She was comfortable in her creative let-out by making it sound fictional. On one hand, because she had strongly lived through the feeling the story could be related to by many but then she would be spared of confessing it as her experience. She would usually be speechless when people glorified her writing, pondering how she could have possibly written about something so well, having not gone through it. She would just smile at them, thankful for them liking it and unsuspicious of it being real. But this time, she was tired of making it sound like an imagination, tired of living another incident of her life as an imaginary character. She wanted to face the questions thrown at her, answer them and get over it. After all, everybody experiences what she has/had. Like the funny imprudent expectation she had a little while ago, she was sure everybody had had it at least once however bleakly faint it would have been. What was so awkwardly embarrassing about having emotions? This time the story was going to be different, it would be truly hers, just the way she had lived it. She gave herself a self-assuring smile and began writing. A little later, she was seen dozing off beside the paper. A little closer look at the paper would have told you a story of a character, Samreen. She, the writer had again cowered to give her story away; she kept her identity to herself yet shared it with the whole world. She just could not put all her other stories at stake of revelation by admitting one to be a part of her life. She, again had lived the life of one of her many characters, this time of Samreen’s; ironically helpless because of her own fictioanal characters or more precisely by her own emotions.
She rushed back home and banged the door behind her. Hurried up to her bed, held her pillow close to her to hide the rolling tears from her eyes, before anybody else sees it. Only that soft delicate roll of cotton knew of her tears, the world has never seen her in her low. She managed to let out a small tear, feeling ridiculously juvenile all the while. She thought of it for a while as at that moment, she was able to sense the feeling she had towards it. A pragmatic that she is, more than just letting the feeling sink it, she started analyzing it, scrutinizing the feeling as to what was it that was making her feel so disheartened. The insignificance of the whole incident made her smile at herself but by then she had experienced too much of the emotion to let go of it. She wanted to make the emotion hers: to possess it in some way.
Her way of owning an emotion was writing about it, making a story of it. She immediately grabbed a pen and a paper (for she liked the conventional style of writing) and passionately started to write. Just as she was about to give a name to the character, she stopped; strangely so, for she had never halted in her flow when she decided to write. This time, she didn’t feel like giving a name to her character. She wanted this story to be in first person, not impersonated by a fictional being. Each emotion that she had strongly felt was always narrated to the world in the camouflage of a different world, a different person and never being her. Sometimes it was rather tedious giving superfluous details to make sure nobody knew the parable was in fact her own story. She loved sharing her experiences but felt awkward admitting them as hers and hated being questioned by people the reason she wrote it and what is it that she is feeling now. Because by the time she starts writing about it, she is already over the feeling, having probed over it for some time. Like mentioned earlier, she deeply believed in objectivity and took sentiments also rather hard-headedly. She was comfortable in her creative let-out by making it sound fictional. On one hand, because she had strongly lived through the feeling the story could be related to by many but then she would be spared of confessing it as her experience. She would usually be speechless when people glorified her writing, pondering how she could have possibly written about something so well, having not gone through it. She would just smile at them, thankful for them liking it and unsuspicious of it being real. But this time, she was tired of making it sound like an imagination, tired of living another incident of her life as an imaginary character. She wanted to face the questions thrown at her, answer them and get over it. After all, everybody experiences what she has/had. Like the funny imprudent expectation she had a little while ago, she was sure everybody had had it at least once however bleakly faint it would have been. What was so awkwardly embarrassing about having emotions? This time the story was going to be different, it would be truly hers, just the way she had lived it. She gave herself a self-assuring smile and began writing. A little later, she was seen dozing off beside the paper. A little closer look at the paper would have told you a story of a character, Samreen. She, the writer had again cowered to give her story away; she kept her identity to herself yet shared it with the whole world. She just could not put all her other stories at stake of revelation by admitting one to be a part of her life. She, again had lived the life of one of her many characters, this time of Samreen’s; ironically helpless because of her own fictioanal characters or more precisely by her own emotions.
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Imperfect Beauty
She considered herself to be ugly. She cribbed saying she had the most unattractive mix of the most unprepossessing features. To her, her hair was unmanageable, she had hideously small (‘chinki’) eyes which were disproportionate to her bloated up face with never-going dark circles and for the unpleasantly bony figure that she had, she detested the chubby cheeks she had (I mean, how could have God so menacingly dislocated the placement of the adipose flabs) And to add to all of that, her lips weren’t even pink and she didn’t posses the perfect set of teeth which she could flash in every photo. I was taken aback at her description of herself. I was seeing her in new light for I had never noticed any of the “imperfections” she just claimed to have. But even then, noticing her I couldn’t help but notice that she was pretty. Talking of features, how could she have forgotten the cute dimples she got whenever she smiled? And to mention her eyes, I agree they were small but very cutely so. There is no way you could call such a pair of gleaming eyes plain. They had the sparkle that could just bewitch many with just a glance. And the thick set of eyelashes made the eyes look prettier still. Such wonderfully long eyelashes she had that they actually got reflected in her own jet-black eye-balls when you looked deeper in there. And for the dark-circles, Oh! I always thought that she used to brush her eyes up everyday with a wonderful shade of eye-colour! Her high-cheek bones were in no way chubby and even if they were, it gave her such a lovely heart-shaped face-cut which so beautifully defined how she is as it was a manifestation of her heart glowing right there at you. Yes her lips weren’t pink but thankfully so. The deep crimson shade she naturally had didn’t require a coat of lip-gloss everyday. My heart used to skip a beat when her lips looked so succulently pretty even when she was least aware of it. She would be happily eating some oily junk-food at some roadside chat-point and even the rancid oil would appear as the best lip-gloss one could have. And the smile, such a bright innocent smile she possessed, it was just too difficult to fathom that she would think an imperfect set of teeth will make even slightest of difference to that. And then I loved how her curls would occasionally fall on her face which she complained to be unmanageable. And not just the face, the puny bony figure she wasn’t in favour of gave her the prettiest jewellery to accessorize herself with: her eye-catching collar bone! To me, she was pretty and that was how I had known her. Listening to her grumbling criticism, I couldn’t help but notice that YES! Right in front of me, there was the biggest of the flaws which even she, an observant scrutinizing critic of pulchritude had failed to notice: Her MINDSET. That was the biggest (and actually the only) wrong I could see. And this flaw made everything else look so negligibly pretty. This flaw had taken her breath-taking smile away without which the dimples ceased to appear, the magnificent sparkle from her eyes and actually made her what she never wanted herself to be. Yes, it was only her image of herself as ugly which made her helplessly so!
PS- One more thing that came into my mind. The "smiley" faced emoticons. If you think of it even they are a combination of ugly featues. ROUND face with a sick pale shade of the colour of poop! And yet they are the cutest thing you use to express yourself with! AND why? because their smile makes so much of a difference making them soooo pleasant! In the end, they are the cooolest andthe happiest thing!
PS- One more thing that came into my mind. The "smiley" faced emoticons. If you think of it even they are a combination of ugly featues. ROUND face with a sick pale shade of the colour of poop! And yet they are the cutest thing you use to express yourself with! AND why? because their smile makes so much of a difference making them soooo pleasant! In the end, they are the cooolest andthe happiest thing!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Hmm.... love?!?!
I have tried countless times to express myself
Though still never found it reciprocated
I tried breaking open from my inhibited shell
And yet love has always kept me isolated.
Love has made itself seem like a fantasy
Something that doesn’t happen in real
Something that I am yet to see,
Believe in and feel deep inside me.
I am clueless how I can make someone fall in love with me
Or fall in love with someone who showers me with love,
For till now, love has never “just” happened unknowingly,
And yet knowing that it is how it is supposed to be.
I make myself believe that I am in love with someone,
And whole-heartedly that is what I try to do,
Until one day, I am forced to see my belief undone
For I hardly matter to him and I want him to love me too.
Sometimes, by the time I let my feelings out,
I realise that he waited for long and now I am late,
Sometimes, just to make sure that doesn’t happen,
I let it out fast and am considered desperate.
And then how am I not supposed to be excessively careful,
In making sure that he is truly the one for me.
Not analyse but feel the love that is so magically wonderful
When such wonders never materialise into reality?
Though still never found it reciprocated
I tried breaking open from my inhibited shell
And yet love has always kept me isolated.
Love has made itself seem like a fantasy
Something that doesn’t happen in real
Something that I am yet to see,
Believe in and feel deep inside me.
I am clueless how I can make someone fall in love with me
Or fall in love with someone who showers me with love,
For till now, love has never “just” happened unknowingly,
And yet knowing that it is how it is supposed to be.
I make myself believe that I am in love with someone,
And whole-heartedly that is what I try to do,
Until one day, I am forced to see my belief undone
For I hardly matter to him and I want him to love me too.
Sometimes, by the time I let my feelings out,
I realise that he waited for long and now I am late,
Sometimes, just to make sure that doesn’t happen,
I let it out fast and am considered desperate.
And then how am I not supposed to be excessively careful,
In making sure that he is truly the one for me.
Not analyse but feel the love that is so magically wonderful
When such wonders never materialise into reality?
Oh! This feeling!
Oh! I wish I wasn’t hopelessly in love with you,
For I don’t even know if you love me too,
All I can manage now is to let you know
That you mean a lot to me, even if I don’t let it show.
I can’t make you fall in love with me,
But neither can I just let it be,
I just keep hoping that you feel the same,
Or at least grow a liking for me suddenly.
I don’t know how to take it further on the way,
Tell you directly or wait for you to say,
I don’t really mind waiting, if you don’t want to hurry,
You can take all the time you want without any worry.
I will keep all this to myself if you want it so,
But please don’t ask me to forget you and let it go,
Because it is not that I haven’t tried giving up the hope,
But for what I do, I just can’t help but let the feeling grow.
I don’t know where exactly am I going wrong,
For you haven’t realized that I have been liking you all along,
Is it that it’s not worth trying for,
Or is there somebody else who likes you more?
If the options are keeping you confused,
And it’s really hard for you to choose,
You feel that there is somebody better you can find,
Let go off me, I am just ordinary, I won’t mind.
But if at all, there comes a day when you feel blue,
I will give you all the comfort you need to pull you through,
When you need support, I will hold your hand,
And when you need time for yourself I will understand.
Oh! I wish I wasn’t hopelessly in love with you,
For I don’t even know if you love me too.
And these uncertainties keep me puzzled,
I really am left answerless to what I am holding on to.
For I don’t even know if you love me too,
All I can manage now is to let you know
That you mean a lot to me, even if I don’t let it show.
I can’t make you fall in love with me,
But neither can I just let it be,
I just keep hoping that you feel the same,
Or at least grow a liking for me suddenly.
I don’t know how to take it further on the way,
Tell you directly or wait for you to say,
I don’t really mind waiting, if you don’t want to hurry,
You can take all the time you want without any worry.
I will keep all this to myself if you want it so,
But please don’t ask me to forget you and let it go,
Because it is not that I haven’t tried giving up the hope,
But for what I do, I just can’t help but let the feeling grow.
I don’t know where exactly am I going wrong,
For you haven’t realized that I have been liking you all along,
Is it that it’s not worth trying for,
Or is there somebody else who likes you more?
If the options are keeping you confused,
And it’s really hard for you to choose,
You feel that there is somebody better you can find,
Let go off me, I am just ordinary, I won’t mind.
But if at all, there comes a day when you feel blue,
I will give you all the comfort you need to pull you through,
When you need support, I will hold your hand,
And when you need time for yourself I will understand.
Oh! I wish I wasn’t hopelessly in love with you,
For I don’t even know if you love me too.
And these uncertainties keep me puzzled,
I really am left answerless to what I am holding on to.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
WOW!!!! Miss-understanding!!
Ohhk… So this is what happened today in our information society class. Kinda shows how jobless we guys are!
So basically Sreya was waiting for her turn to give her part of presentation and meanwhile Karmanya was meddling around with her phone. He began giving missed calls to everybody in the class, startled quite a few who kept giving Sreya glances, making her twitchy. One of the missed calls receivers was Ami, who had a slight tiff with Sreya recently, so was puzzled as to why she would keep giving her missed calls and that too, right in the middle of her presentation. Since, Sreya giving her missed calls was out of question, she started looking around to know who could possibly be doing it. She spotted Naimul sitting beside her and immediately drew conclusion that Naim was the one who had given her 5 back-to-back missed calls. She then sent Naimul a message to “stop it” only to receive 3more missed calls. She messaged back saying “you suck!” and got a reply from him asking her if her phone was free as he wanted to play games. So, Ami thought Naim didn’t have enough balance in his cell to call her and ask her for the mobile and that’s why was giving missed calls.
To answer the question as to why Naim didn’t find Ami’s message bizarre, here is the story. Naim exactly at the same time had messaged Swati, asking her to switch on her Bluetooth for transferring some pictures and thought Ami wanted that transfer to be stopped and when that didn’t happen she had said that he sucks.
So comes in picture, Swati, who also got missed calls from Sreya’s cell. Knowing for a reason that her room-mate perpetually has no balance in her cell, she assumed that I was using Sreya’s cell like always and it was me who was was giving her missed calls. So instantly she sent a message saying “Yeah Gayu! Tell, what happened?”
Well, this was all that Karmanya needed: someone to fall into the trap, so that he gets a bakra to fool around with. So he replies, pretending to be me, telling her that I wanted to talk to her urgently about something very serious. When asked what the issue was, Karmanya came up with a wonderful story (guess thinking for stories for TV-production is doing the magic, elsewhere though) of me having a crush on somebody in the class and I had this sudden urge to spill out the beans, come what may. Swati, not believing a word (but believing it was me) thought I was in one of my crazy moods and was pulling up a prank on her or (for the worse) trying hard to be funny. Still, showing concern asked who the person possibly could be. Karmanya tags Gautam in the game. Swati tells this all to Pavi, also adding that I have lost my senses again to pointless humour. Pavi, again, having full faith in my freakish eccentricity, suggests that I would not have meant a word I had written and it was all some sad-joke (which as usual nobody gets).
But this is not where it ends. Right after the class, Karmanya gives Sreya her cell back* and goes over to Swati and asks in a serious, secretive tone if she had got any message from me. When he gets a puzzled nod from Swati, he continues saying that I had messaged him also and told him too that I had a thing for Gautam and since he was such a good friend of his, I wanted him to tell this to Gautam as soon as he gets a perfect chance for it. As an afterthought, he asks Swati, if I was serious about him and whether he should actually go and tell him that. Swati, considering all of it as a sad attempt of humour from my side tells Karmanya that this is what she thinks is going on and not to tell any of this to Gautam. But still she remains befuddled about why I would say such things and even mention this to Karmanya, which makes Karmanya successful in his endeavor.
Well, later she did get to know with a little enquiry here and there that it was Karmanya only, who had been messaging her from Sreya’s cell. I get to know about all of this only later in the evening while having dinner with them. Till then I was blissfully in my own world, with no knowledge that my love-life was being decided and discussed with people believing that I was the one who was talking about it. Someone has correctly said, Ignorance is a bliss. It surely is. But here, I loved the outlandish yet hilarious confusion my jobless classmates were in and nobody realized any of it.
And yes, there is one more point that needs to be noted. Both my room-mates regard two things to be true: my love-life is totally vapid with no chance of sparkle and that I can come with the most absurd, inane, senseless, asinine talks just for kicks and wouldn’t mind making a ridicule of myself for the sake of it. Well, I have only one thing to say about this: they totally know me MAN!!!!!
*Well, here is another funny parable in these series. When Karmanya gave Sreya back her cell, she noticed that she had around 5missed calls from Arkapol who was frantically trying to contact her. It so happened that Arkapol who was supposed to leave Rourkee today in order to come to Manipal for diwali was in a problem. Problem was that the ticket Sreya had booked for him had an error: the gender of Arkapol was referred to as a female, which “HE” is not (HAHAHAHAH!! Found this to be hilarious). Apparently he had his share of struggle with the TT and the problem was resolved after Sreya, who initially cluessless about what to do, went and asked Ruhi’s room-mate for help and luckily her neighbor’s friend’s dad was in railway department and sorted things out. (Ruhi’s roommate’s neighbor’s friend’s dad called Arkapol from the Rashtrapati Bhawan!!!! Big contacts, I say. Now you know whom to contact, in case of troubles!!!!)
So basically Sreya was waiting for her turn to give her part of presentation and meanwhile Karmanya was meddling around with her phone. He began giving missed calls to everybody in the class, startled quite a few who kept giving Sreya glances, making her twitchy. One of the missed calls receivers was Ami, who had a slight tiff with Sreya recently, so was puzzled as to why she would keep giving her missed calls and that too, right in the middle of her presentation. Since, Sreya giving her missed calls was out of question, she started looking around to know who could possibly be doing it. She spotted Naimul sitting beside her and immediately drew conclusion that Naim was the one who had given her 5 back-to-back missed calls. She then sent Naimul a message to “stop it” only to receive 3more missed calls. She messaged back saying “you suck!” and got a reply from him asking her if her phone was free as he wanted to play games. So, Ami thought Naim didn’t have enough balance in his cell to call her and ask her for the mobile and that’s why was giving missed calls.
To answer the question as to why Naim didn’t find Ami’s message bizarre, here is the story. Naim exactly at the same time had messaged Swati, asking her to switch on her Bluetooth for transferring some pictures and thought Ami wanted that transfer to be stopped and when that didn’t happen she had said that he sucks.
So comes in picture, Swati, who also got missed calls from Sreya’s cell. Knowing for a reason that her room-mate perpetually has no balance in her cell, she assumed that I was using Sreya’s cell like always and it was me who was was giving her missed calls. So instantly she sent a message saying “Yeah Gayu! Tell, what happened?”
Well, this was all that Karmanya needed: someone to fall into the trap, so that he gets a bakra to fool around with. So he replies, pretending to be me, telling her that I wanted to talk to her urgently about something very serious. When asked what the issue was, Karmanya came up with a wonderful story (guess thinking for stories for TV-production is doing the magic, elsewhere though) of me having a crush on somebody in the class and I had this sudden urge to spill out the beans, come what may. Swati, not believing a word (but believing it was me) thought I was in one of my crazy moods and was pulling up a prank on her or (for the worse) trying hard to be funny. Still, showing concern asked who the person possibly could be. Karmanya tags Gautam in the game. Swati tells this all to Pavi, also adding that I have lost my senses again to pointless humour. Pavi, again, having full faith in my freakish eccentricity, suggests that I would not have meant a word I had written and it was all some sad-joke (which as usual nobody gets).
But this is not where it ends. Right after the class, Karmanya gives Sreya her cell back* and goes over to Swati and asks in a serious, secretive tone if she had got any message from me. When he gets a puzzled nod from Swati, he continues saying that I had messaged him also and told him too that I had a thing for Gautam and since he was such a good friend of his, I wanted him to tell this to Gautam as soon as he gets a perfect chance for it. As an afterthought, he asks Swati, if I was serious about him and whether he should actually go and tell him that. Swati, considering all of it as a sad attempt of humour from my side tells Karmanya that this is what she thinks is going on and not to tell any of this to Gautam. But still she remains befuddled about why I would say such things and even mention this to Karmanya, which makes Karmanya successful in his endeavor.
Well, later she did get to know with a little enquiry here and there that it was Karmanya only, who had been messaging her from Sreya’s cell. I get to know about all of this only later in the evening while having dinner with them. Till then I was blissfully in my own world, with no knowledge that my love-life was being decided and discussed with people believing that I was the one who was talking about it. Someone has correctly said, Ignorance is a bliss. It surely is. But here, I loved the outlandish yet hilarious confusion my jobless classmates were in and nobody realized any of it.
And yes, there is one more point that needs to be noted. Both my room-mates regard two things to be true: my love-life is totally vapid with no chance of sparkle and that I can come with the most absurd, inane, senseless, asinine talks just for kicks and wouldn’t mind making a ridicule of myself for the sake of it. Well, I have only one thing to say about this: they totally know me MAN!!!!!
*Well, here is another funny parable in these series. When Karmanya gave Sreya back her cell, she noticed that she had around 5missed calls from Arkapol who was frantically trying to contact her. It so happened that Arkapol who was supposed to leave Rourkee today in order to come to Manipal for diwali was in a problem. Problem was that the ticket Sreya had booked for him had an error: the gender of Arkapol was referred to as a female, which “HE” is not (HAHAHAHAH!! Found this to be hilarious). Apparently he had his share of struggle with the TT and the problem was resolved after Sreya, who initially cluessless about what to do, went and asked Ruhi’s room-mate for help and luckily her neighbor’s friend’s dad was in railway department and sorted things out. (Ruhi’s roommate’s neighbor’s friend’s dad called Arkapol from the Rashtrapati Bhawan!!!! Big contacts, I say. Now you know whom to contact, in case of troubles!!!!)
Glee Glee Earth!
For the first time on my blog, I have
A GUEST BLOGGER (!) who wants to post an article he/she/it (that’s a confusion as of now) has written. About the blogger, well, (for convenience sake let us call him a “he”) he is an “alien” with a name that cannot be articulated in a pronounceable sound on earth (as he says it). Anyways, what is in a name? He has been on earth for the past 19years, researching on humans, in a camouflage of a girl. (oh! So should I be mentioning him as a girl?!?!?!? Anyways that’s beside the point) Well, as he says it, there are many fellow-beings from his land, doing research on various other things and he is specializing on humans. So here is a brief introduction of his research. He has promised to give some contributions to my blog whenever I get too busy to not utilize this space. Let’s keep the fingers crossed!!! So, over to him.
Sjf!~~hxvj$&%^sdhg{{{::”>jhvnxvhsdksvn?>>//./.,,,@@45kzsgaskrh12!~$^^o34u287346toigvslro3\34t\rbmbvkdjfg93485{{{::”>75jm xjk(((_-----___ghg##***.
Well, sorry for the inconvenience. It is to tell my fellow beings why I am giving out such confidential information here. I just explained them the bond I share with Gayatri ( no, no, she is not my girlfriend… We don’t have such concepts in our land. Psst: She is all over me all the time and would love to be my girlfriend and that is the reason why she likes mentioning me as a “he”. She is even willing to leave her land and come to our land with me, but that’s not how it works. Don’t worry, nothing like that is happening, not until my land starts accepting this concept. If that happens, I promise, Gayatri will surely be the girl of my tiffkjfh (well, you all call it “life”!)
About my research work, I don’t know how to start. You know, it is weird for me how you people write and type and speak for communication. In our land, the “system” is not as closed as yours. It is quite difficult to make you understand that there is no such thing as a thought-barrier that obstructs you from reading other’s thoughts. I will later on, in my notes, write about this topic in detail. As of now, let me start off my research’s written presentation in brief points. Here is where I begin.
Humans are basically a specific kind of species found on earth who are, in simple terms, of a shape of a sphere connected to a small cylinder which is linked to a flat cuboidal structure (with curved corners) having two cylindrical slightly obelisk extensions on sides and bottom. In case of women (oh! They are classified into two on gender basis: men and women), there are two semi-spheres attached to the upper part of the cuboidal structure (which are absent in the intial stages) whereas in men there is another cylindrical extension near the end of the cuboidal structure. On the whole, a human body resembles the picture I have put across. To name all of them, the sphere is known as the head, the cylinder is the neck, the cuboid is the torso, extensions on the sides are the hands and in the bottom are the legs. There are two more semi-spheres in the back of the body connecting the torso and the legs known as buttocks, colloquially called as bums. This text may seem vulgar to many humans if I name the semi-spheres and the cylinder, so I would like to ‘not’ mention it. &^$7.8”9 and ^^*923@ they are called. This whole structure is covered from head to toe with “skin” and they come in three colours: black, pale white, and pale peach. There are different shades and hints these colours are available in. Also, there are fibrous things found on top of the head, known as hair. Humans like experimenting with the length of their hair so there is no specific length I can mention here. These gristly-looking things are found all over the body in shorter lengths which women tend to remove by various means. So basically, one major differentiation factor can be the length of hair on top (men prefer keeping it short, though trends are changing) and on body. Hair is also available in various shades and colour and also different textures. On basis of texture they can be broadly classified as straight, curly and wavy(a mixture of the previous two).
“What is interesting in a human body is that it isnot made only of this. There are many more organs inside this structure which are hidden. As you will know with further reading that a human system is in many layers and that many things are veiled from direct contact. It goes to such an extent that I believe it might be somebody from our land who would have quoted that looks can be deceiving. So trust me, when you are around humans, there is a lot more going on than you see. Just mentioned it to put you on your guards.
Humans are not eternal and have a mortal span of existence which they call as life. Every life begins with a small body which eventually “grows” into a bigger manifestation of the initial form. But this growth is limited only for a certain period of time, i.e until the age of 18-19years or so. The system was so designed that they grow up to the aforementioned age and then they create another human which starts growing in the very way, so that the process of growth is kept on continuation. But human species have altered the mechanism to growing to that particular age, then having a stagnation period in growth where they focus on other pressing matters (which will be discussed later in my research work) of human life, most often their ‘careers’ for a period varying from 5years to even 13-14years and then carry on to creating other humans for “growth continuation” as I call it. So basically, they opt for their ‘career’ and leave aside their job of life-carrier’ for a certain period. (get the connection? Career-carrier?) This process (not the choosing process but the process of growth-continuation) ensures that the mortal life-span of humans does not hinder their existence on earth. This life-ensuring process is called reproduction and is very complicated in nature to say the least.
The humans in their course of life do various things which may seem strange to us. I would like to point out a few of them now. First of all, their mortality is not their only limitation. They have such limitations on regular basis. To simplify, they have to “sleep” everyday for at least 3-4hours to keep their system working. The mechanism of sleep is something, even the humans aren’t fully sure of. What they do in this method is that they lie down on a flat surface or take the maximum surface area they can get and close their eyes and do “nothing” other than the essential mechanisms needed for living. And in that state, they are semi-conscious and have no clue of what is happening around them. Also, while sleeping, another activity called dreaming is carried out simultaneously. Dreaming is a phenomenon which I relate to sight. In dreaming, one virtually sees different things in his/her mind. It is so wonderful an experience that humans use the term “dreaming” to describe somebody fantasizing something. I personally feel it is one of the most wonderful things a human does which is missing in our land. I spend most of my time enjoying this particular activity.
Oh! Why did I mention this activity in the beginning? Now I feel like doing it NOW. Well, sorry for the abrupt stop. I will surely continue with my notes in the next post here, for there are many more things worth mentioning.
For now, I loved spending time with this blog. I thank Gayatri for everything she has done for me till now. (Only platonically, people! There is nothing between me and Gayatri. We are just friends. Oh about this line too, I would surely like to write about). Chalo then, byyee people.
A GUEST BLOGGER (!) who wants to post an article he/she/it (that’s a confusion as of now) has written. About the blogger, well, (for convenience sake let us call him a “he”) he is an “alien” with a name that cannot be articulated in a pronounceable sound on earth (as he says it). Anyways, what is in a name? He has been on earth for the past 19years, researching on humans, in a camouflage of a girl. (oh! So should I be mentioning him as a girl?!?!?!? Anyways that’s beside the point) Well, as he says it, there are many fellow-beings from his land, doing research on various other things and he is specializing on humans. So here is a brief introduction of his research. He has promised to give some contributions to my blog whenever I get too busy to not utilize this space. Let’s keep the fingers crossed!!! So, over to him.
Sjf!~~hxvj$&%^sdhg{{{::”>jhvnxvhsdksvn?>>//./.,,,@@45kzsgaskrh12!~$^^o34u287346toigvslro3\34t\rbmbvkdjfg93485{{{::”>75jm xjk(((_-----___ghg##***.
Well, sorry for the inconvenience. It is to tell my fellow beings why I am giving out such confidential information here. I just explained them the bond I share with Gayatri ( no, no, she is not my girlfriend… We don’t have such concepts in our land. Psst: She is all over me all the time and would love to be my girlfriend and that is the reason why she likes mentioning me as a “he”. She is even willing to leave her land and come to our land with me, but that’s not how it works. Don’t worry, nothing like that is happening, not until my land starts accepting this concept. If that happens, I promise, Gayatri will surely be the girl of my tiffkjfh (well, you all call it “life”!)
About my research work, I don’t know how to start. You know, it is weird for me how you people write and type and speak for communication. In our land, the “system” is not as closed as yours. It is quite difficult to make you understand that there is no such thing as a thought-barrier that obstructs you from reading other’s thoughts. I will later on, in my notes, write about this topic in detail. As of now, let me start off my research’s written presentation in brief points. Here is where I begin.
Humans are basically a specific kind of species found on earth who are, in simple terms, of a shape of a sphere connected to a small cylinder which is linked to a flat cuboidal structure (with curved corners) having two cylindrical slightly obelisk extensions on sides and bottom. In case of women (oh! They are classified into two on gender basis: men and women), there are two semi-spheres attached to the upper part of the cuboidal structure (which are absent in the intial stages) whereas in men there is another cylindrical extension near the end of the cuboidal structure. On the whole, a human body resembles the picture I have put across. To name all of them, the sphere is known as the head, the cylinder is the neck, the cuboid is the torso, extensions on the sides are the hands and in the bottom are the legs. There are two more semi-spheres in the back of the body connecting the torso and the legs known as buttocks, colloquially called as bums. This text may seem vulgar to many humans if I name the semi-spheres and the cylinder, so I would like to ‘not’ mention it. &^$7.8”9 and ^^*923@ they are called. This whole structure is covered from head to toe with “skin” and they come in three colours: black, pale white, and pale peach. There are different shades and hints these colours are available in. Also, there are fibrous things found on top of the head, known as hair. Humans like experimenting with the length of their hair so there is no specific length I can mention here. These gristly-looking things are found all over the body in shorter lengths which women tend to remove by various means. So basically, one major differentiation factor can be the length of hair on top (men prefer keeping it short, though trends are changing) and on body. Hair is also available in various shades and colour and also different textures. On basis of texture they can be broadly classified as straight, curly and wavy(a mixture of the previous two).
“What is interesting in a human body is that it isnot made only of this. There are many more organs inside this structure which are hidden. As you will know with further reading that a human system is in many layers and that many things are veiled from direct contact. It goes to such an extent that I believe it might be somebody from our land who would have quoted that looks can be deceiving. So trust me, when you are around humans, there is a lot more going on than you see. Just mentioned it to put you on your guards.
Humans are not eternal and have a mortal span of existence which they call as life. Every life begins with a small body which eventually “grows” into a bigger manifestation of the initial form. But this growth is limited only for a certain period of time, i.e until the age of 18-19years or so. The system was so designed that they grow up to the aforementioned age and then they create another human which starts growing in the very way, so that the process of growth is kept on continuation. But human species have altered the mechanism to growing to that particular age, then having a stagnation period in growth where they focus on other pressing matters (which will be discussed later in my research work) of human life, most often their ‘careers’ for a period varying from 5years to even 13-14years and then carry on to creating other humans for “growth continuation” as I call it. So basically, they opt for their ‘career’ and leave aside their job of life-carrier’ for a certain period. (get the connection? Career-carrier?) This process (not the choosing process but the process of growth-continuation) ensures that the mortal life-span of humans does not hinder their existence on earth. This life-ensuring process is called reproduction and is very complicated in nature to say the least.
The humans in their course of life do various things which may seem strange to us. I would like to point out a few of them now. First of all, their mortality is not their only limitation. They have such limitations on regular basis. To simplify, they have to “sleep” everyday for at least 3-4hours to keep their system working. The mechanism of sleep is something, even the humans aren’t fully sure of. What they do in this method is that they lie down on a flat surface or take the maximum surface area they can get and close their eyes and do “nothing” other than the essential mechanisms needed for living. And in that state, they are semi-conscious and have no clue of what is happening around them. Also, while sleeping, another activity called dreaming is carried out simultaneously. Dreaming is a phenomenon which I relate to sight. In dreaming, one virtually sees different things in his/her mind. It is so wonderful an experience that humans use the term “dreaming” to describe somebody fantasizing something. I personally feel it is one of the most wonderful things a human does which is missing in our land. I spend most of my time enjoying this particular activity.
Oh! Why did I mention this activity in the beginning? Now I feel like doing it NOW. Well, sorry for the abrupt stop. I will surely continue with my notes in the next post here, for there are many more things worth mentioning.
For now, I loved spending time with this blog. I thank Gayatri for everything she has done for me till now. (Only platonically, people! There is nothing between me and Gayatri. We are just friends. Oh about this line too, I would surely like to write about). Chalo then, byyee people.
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