Seeking Solace

I am not afraid of failure. What appalls me is not giving my best.
When I do my best, even the most humiliating of defeats seems to be but a lesson. When I don't, I know that even the most exalting victory is nothing more than a fluke.

As some wise man must have once said;

" It's not the destiny that matters after all. What persists is the road traversed. "

Staad Wads I --- Fall of the Supedhedos

(*The following is an excerpt from digary ---digital diary--- of Fluke Skywalker. The digary was, apparently, inadvertently dropped in a time-travelling contraption and was detected and then captured, even more inadvertently, by my secret time-travelling-contraption intercepting contraption. One of the incidents seems to be dated to 1.3 Janworry, 0 AD. It’s written after the supposed death of Darth Hey-dhar in the lap of his own son whom I’ve been able to identify, after reading lots of the digary, as the straight Fluke himself. Interestingly, AD appears to be After the Death of Darth, which, as I find logical, should have been called ADD. Anyway, AD is also reported to be 23.5 Exceptember, 4172 AD ----Anno Domini. It’s also mentioned that just before his demise, Hey-dhar muttered something which seemed to be a query about kun-taynts of some random course called something like “I’m a Bengali rockstaad, tay-day ko kya padoblem hai?” Though this something doesn’t have any particular relevance as such, but demanded a mention due to its idiosyncratic mention again and again. Also, the writer seems to have a feverish predilection for a seemingly sacrosanct phrase, “May the force, chores and whores be with you.” Must have been a powerful, obedient, pervert kid, I must say.*)

A long time ago, in a galaxy not far away, there existed a planet called Earth inhabited by an unevolved, weird, diminutive species called Homo sapiens. The problem with these creatures was that they kept quarrelling amongst themselves for miniscule gains and sometimes, not even for that. Appallingly, the pitiful Homo sapiens failed to accept the futility of the constant bickering during their short life-spans. It’s said that they seemed to possess dark forces like ego, jealousy and the likes, which led them into bitter feuds. In their fanatical one-upmanship, Homo sapiens began to misuse the natural resources present on the beautiful Earth. This led to wide-scale pollution and rapid depletion of the resources.

On the planet Earth, there existed an even more beautiful territory (called country) by the name of India. This territory was abundant in natural resources and was, at one point of time, blessed with intellectuals of caliber far exceeding the others and comparable to creatures of today. It’s said, however, that incessant invasion of the territory by people from other territories enfeebled its core cultural and intellectual identity. The invasions were so powerful that even after liberation, people did not relent from stooping lower still. This resulted in a lot of corruption and again, pollution. These two factors, as is the legend, led to the fall of superheroes of yore and ultimately, rise of the diabolical ass-kit-ball player Darth Hey-dhar.

In the year -2165 AD, a massive congregation of superheroes was planned in Delhi, the capital city of India. The gathering was called Pee-8 and was convened to discuss means to tackle global problems like pollution, child labour, poverty, IIT female Homo sapiens, remixes, hip-hop, She-may Fray-shammiya, Mooli-kha Sharafat etc. The superheroes belonging to the conclave were called developed superheroes. Also present at the time were other “developing” and “under-developed” superheroes. The legend has it that all the superheroes died in Delhi. Here’s how;

1) Superman: The invincible, herculean superhero possessed extra-ordinary abilities like flight, laser eyes and the most envied ability; to see through objects, most notable amongst which were clothes. On that fateful day, while flying over the outskirts of Delhi, Superman happened to pass over Najafgarh drain.

Apparently, the local organization which was responsible for drainage, also called Municipality Corporation of Delhi (MCD), thought of it as an ingenious plan to make their young ones exposed to and thence, immune to environmental adversities. Sadly, though, it led to large-scale genetic mutation and gave rise to evil species like Rash-us driver-us, Pervert-o rapist-us, 764 conductorus, Slum-y dweller-us and the most dreaded of them all, Iit girl-phus. The drain was replete with all sorts of junk possible. It gave away obnoxious fumes having an acrid smell, a heady concoction of poisonous chemicals.

Unknown to and unforeseen by Superman, the fumes also contained his only weakness; Kryptonite. He was forced to inhale lethal amounts of Kryptonite, which led to his death. The inhabitants of Najafgarh mistook him for the monkey-man and called the police and the paramedics. As was the custom at that time, which I find to be very peculiar, the police and the paramedics reached a good hour and a half later. What ensued was complete furore. Indian rulers blamed its neighbouring territory, Pakistan, for the tragedy. Employees of various local organizations, particularly MCD, were relieved of their jobs. An inquest was swiftly ordered and the investigating authority, Delhi Coolies, hastily came up, perplexing as it may sound, with a list of suspects. Autopsy reports reported strangulation of the deceased and then backtracked on its statement, citing suicide as the reason, only to revert back to murder. Rumour has it that records relating to the inquest; compiled in one of the most durable, long-lasting, clever contraption ever made and called Indian government files; are there to be discovered floating in space.

2) Batman: One of his kind, a superhero without any superpower, Batman used his intelligence to beguile even the disguised. But alas!! Even his intelligence could not shield him against official apathy and the murky world of Indian politics. Due to airport staff strikes in India, a concept highly practiced and prevalent during those times, Batman was forced to shun Batplane in favour of Batmobile to travel. Driving over the bumpy roads of India, a tough ordeal in itself, Batman found his Batmobile engulfed in the infamous Gujjar strikes. The Gujjars, as is believed, were followers of Batman’s arch-nemesis Jokers and used to play practical jokes & political gimmicks.

Being the Good Samaritan that he was, he chose to evade the mob rather than kicking their posteriors. Hooking his grappling hook to one of the skyscrapers in a place called Gurgaon, Batman landed on a busy traffic intersection. Left all to himself, fighting paan-stains (which, even his special batsuit couldn’t exuviate), sweltering heat, Batman got Delhi belly, an ailment, and died soon thereafter.

3) Spiderman: A hybrid between spider, another species belonging to that era, and Homo Sapiens; Spiderman was known far and wide for his crying antics, adolescent mood swings & rebellious behaviour and, at times, for his agile body & spider sense. On his way to the Pee-8 summit, Spiderman’s websling got entangled in a horde of people. Fate always has the luxury of circumstances as its conniving partner and so it did at that moment. Spiderman got carried away with the mob to their destination, Baybay Kaam-de’s camp. After laying witness to the various pliant stances of Baybay, Spiderman got intimidated and felt that his girlfriend, Meri Pain, is cheating on him with Baybay. A challenge was raised and a duel followed. After 5 excruciating days of body-wrenching stances, Spidey’s body started whining and gave way. “Meri back, Meri Pain. Hasta Lavista Baybay.”, cried Spidey just before his quietus.

The fate of five others, I shall demystify later. But before that, let me expound upon the rise of the nefarious Hay-dhar, the Dark Fourses and the saviours of our times, the aa-ay ha-ay chee students, the group of farcical Homo sapiens. Even the bare mention of the likes of gunnyraj, troo the flu, Sexy Sam, a hoop, yell jo, half pant, chee po and of course, dipped 'n shooed were enough to give enemies agonizing moments of stomach pain from laughter, to set them rolling into convulsive fits of laughter.

(*The above text was translated from Sanskrit. The rest will be deciphered, as soon as I learn how to get to the next page in the digary.*)

21

“ Except ye become as little children, except you can wake on your fiftieth birthday with the same forward-looking excitement and interest in life that you enjoyed when you were five, ye cannot enter the kingdom of God. One must not only die daily, but every day we must be born again. “
-- Sayers, Dorothy L.


Unlike many other Homo sapiens, I don’t fret when confronted with the number called age. I treat it the way it should be, like a plain number. A silly fact that’s used in filling forms and helps doctors to judge the metabolic stage of Homo sapiens. Once one forces one’s hesitant psyche to go beyond the numerical nitty-gritty, all’s left to one’s prerogative. In short, one’s as old as one believes to be.
A lot of Homo sapiens, which pretty much includes everyone who knows me, think that I am childish. Well, I admit to have always been in awe of children. The infectious enthusiasm, the relentless curiosity, the ability to switch from sorrow to joy in an instant, the ability to be happy rather than just wanting to be, the gift of sleeping without a worry in the world. There are a lot of weaknesses as well. Agreed. But then, why look for qualities one does not want to imbibe? So much for positive thinking.
But then, yes, it’s time I grew up.

Anyway, there’s a list of things that I desire to possess but have not acquired yet. It omits a lot of things I now consider frivolous but wanted some time back. I present it to assist those who intend to give me gifts on my 22nd birthday. Also, I’m not being a whiner. I know it’s better to count one’s blessings than otherwise but desire is what keeps us alive.
No matter what the circumstances be, whether it’s befitting or not, I’ll get the following for myself someday (said with the grit, confidence and awe-inspiring tone of Cinderella man or whatever).

The tip of an iceberg (no preference order):
-> a pair of good formal-shoes
-> an ipod
-> Playstation (3)
-> a violin
-> a PC/laptop with the best configuration
-> a watch
-> a cricket bat with two sets of wickets
-> a football
-> a tennis racket
-> two badminton racquets
-> a car with all state-of-the-art techno-gadgets
-> Happyness
-> my own cricket ground/ stadium/ whatever’s more viable
-> tuna spread
-> a cruise tour with Brittany Murphy

What I can no longer become (but wanted to, in chronological order):
-> Mathematician (first love: maths)
-> Magician
-> Cricketer (fast bowler)
-> Classical singer
-> Theater actor
-> NBA player
-> Tall...on second thoughts, lets make that taller (still some scope, the eternal optimist that I am)

P.S. I never wanted to become a super-hero, as most of young tween want to.

Peeeee Pee-pip

This one, like all other events, starts with the Big-Bang, or whichever way the Universe was created. (Why do people care anyway?) However, setting aside all the details I deem unnecessary, allow me to come straight to the point. Also, let me try and keep it short this time (no pun, no intention, not funny).
Homo sapiens of my college are required to waste 50 priceless summer vacation days to undergo summer training. Sahee, Lullee (not a sheep, not even a female Homo sapiens) and I (a resounding applause, accompanied by generous doses of catcalling and appreciative whistling by the front-row audience) got selected by SRF. After much contestation, Lullee was selected to be butchered in Bhiwadi. Sahee and I were placed in Gurgaon. So, it started on 14th of May, when I heard that sound for the first time.
On the first day, all we expected us to be forced to do was to get acquainted with the L’ affaires of the office and that is what we almost ended up doing. We got introduced to the technical staff, which has more than half a dozen alumni Homo sapiens from my college, and to some from the administration. Here’s my first impression; hard working Homo sapiens, nice and accommodating; HR Homo sapiens appear to have abnormally fast internal metabolisms; lunch’s good; though usually impassive, people start whistling and singing in the company bus. Towards the end of the first day, both of us were summoned by our training supervisor. So, we’ve to prepare design documents for distillation and heat transfer, which, would take loads of theoretical studying and sifting.
On the second day, our tables are assigned and this is where my ordeal begins. I get a table right in front of the floor entrance and all I get to hear all day long is “Peeeee Pee-pip”. Apparently, some SRF techno-freak decided to install access machines at every floor entrance….and nobody protested.
So, every time the machine’s used, which, gallingly, happens quite a lot, “Peeeee Pee-pip” rams its way through my ears and down the auditory canals to the tympanic membranes. Well, I know so much because I tried to find a solution to the problem by studying the whole hearing system. Anyway, I get to hear the sound when I’m about to sleep while studying, when I wake up, while I’m concentrating on the gargantuan work at hand, while having lunch and while all other nominal activities in between, which includes studying. What unnerves me even more is the fact that it can possibly attack my subconscious when I’m half-asleep, studying. I don’t want to become a pee-holic/peep-aholic/whatever. The only gratifying fact is that I’ll get an access card soon and can then, make the sound come out of the @#$ing machine anytime I want. In a way, I’ll conquer the sound, rule over it. It’ll play to my tunes…and, I’ve already started losing it.
While writing this post, I got two more reasons to crib about. First, a Punjabi ringtone. The guy, brazenly, never puts his cell on silent mode. Second, another guy talking on his phone as loudly as pot-bellied neighbourhood Sharmaji laughing at his jokes and as brazenly as the previous guy. Another observation, the guy seems to be under a strange illusion that a well-formed English sentence must comprise of at least four “like”s and have to be pronounced as likeuhh. Annoying, brain-jamming, to say the least.

P.S. Thank god Sahee’s here. The F in SRF is fibres and not fertilizers. There’s one cute girl in the office. Whippiee.

Me

Maybe. Maybe not. But it's close.

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Verbum sat sapienti.
--“A word is enough to the wise.”

There have been so many of them, yet I remain clueless.


“Thy white is as pristine as snow, yet darkness is all I see.”

Mid-Semester Dilemma Syndrome

Symptoms:
Holi passed by quite uneventfully this year, but it didn’t matter.
Send an “Appy Oli” SMS to all my friends. Some replied, some didn’t. It didn’t matter still.
Had my favourite, bhel-puri on Sunday. Did I relish it? I don’t think so. Worse still, was I possibly blasé about it? Given my insatiable craving for things even remotely spicy and unending loyalty towards culinary delights, I hope I wasn’t.
Slept early on Sunday night. Yet, I woke up a fatigued, dazed Homo sapiens.
Similar events, galore.

Diagnosis:
A public park, somewhere on Earth. A child, unsure of his steps, comes up to his father and starts glancing curiously at a boy walking alone. The boy walks confidently, with brisk steps, towards a place unknown. A black cat crosses his way and scurries away towards the park exit. An old beggar, slouching comfortably on a pavement near the park exit, looks at her pleadingly as she walks away into oblivion, talking on her cell phone, trampling on the ants.
On the same planet, in some Delhi college, I (a resounding applause, accompanied by generous doses of catcalling and appreciative whistling by the front-row audience) was walking towards the college campus. Being a Homo Sapiens, who is, as pointed out by my well-opinionated Civics teacher, very much a social animal, I usually don’t get the opportunity to savour solitary walks. That was exactly the need of the hour, or of the last week or so. So, on my way to the campus, I decided to introspect/retrospect or something to that effect. In that highly contemplative mood, I realized that I was suffering from what I coined as Mid-Semester Dilemma Syndrome (a collective awe from the front-row audience).
Well, lets get further insight of the disease by trying to unravel the origin of the disease. The roots of this illness lie in the education system of India. The twelve annual examinations have ingrained in every school student, a natural tendency to get depressed in the months of February and March. Coming back to a more contemporary context, first minor examinations have just ended (two weeks back, to be precise). Second minors are imminent (two weeks hence, likewise). So, I can’t decide whether I’ve done enough, or a lot still remains. As a result, I end up wasting most of my time either doing nothing or day-dreaming. Should another episode of “Eroes” be watched or some deliberation be done on the applications of acoustic methods? I am confused, diffident. I stammer when I talk, get tongue-twisted. Even I, one of the most ardent patrons of my jokes, don’t laugh at them anymore. As a matter of fact, I don’t laugh at all. I walk with an uncertain, weary gait. I want to sleep all day long.

Prescription :
A more articulate, though outspoken, view would run on the lines of, “I feel screwed up.” Is there a solution to this illness? I am afraid not. I am confused and uncertain, remember? Only time can undo its misdeeds. I am sure that a very vague picture of MSDS (yup, it’s significant enough to get an abbreviation) has been projected through this incongruous, incoherent post by an absolutely befuddled me. Rx.


.....I reached the campus and confronted Troo and El Jo (no, she’s not Spanish) with this sad news. Troo found it to be quite amusing and told me why she dropped Programming Languages (a Computer Science course in my college). She even proposed a possible extension to my theory and merged it with time variables (future, to be precise). El Jo smiled, nodded her head in approval and confided to me that it troubled her as well. Basically, what I want to prove over here is that I am not the only victim of this illness and that, unless proper precautions are taken, it can affect any student. So beware as it might just be lurking round the corner.

P.S. It took me seven days to write this rubbish...and all because of MSDS.
P.S. P.S. It’s imperative to discern symptoms of MSDS from the exalted state of being (or falling, as they call it) in love.

Anything, but happiness

The event described below took place quite a while back, a day after my last majors(final examinations), to be precise. The precision may not be sharp enough for Homo sapiens not from my college (the name of which I avow never to state). But it’s sufficient to know that it happened “quite a while back” The reason that the event is being described, quite simply, is that it compelled me to write this post.
Majors have a galling tendency of physically restricting hostellers to the confines of hostel(s), institute, xerox shops and Nescafe. Hey, on second thoughts, it’s not that “confined” either(??). Anyway, after seven such trying days, the worst possible place to be is the college itself and that is exactly where I was a day hence. Yes, I know my life appears to be a bit non-happening or un-hep(if that’s a word). Buttttt, this could be attributed to my day-scholar friends, who thought it wiser to savor a day of solitude in their homes in spite of doing the same thing during the majors. “Invigorated and refreshed” is what they feel thus. Luckily, I chanced to meet Pats and Aooooop before it got too late. A unanimous decision was swiftly made: to flee the college.
First stop: Green Park Market
1700 hrs
It’s, without any exception, not a very happening, bustling place. Or, in less disparaging words, GPM is a serene, laid-back shopping block. The long walk from Pizza Hut to the ATM and then, back to MCD (Mc Donalds for the uninitiated, in case there’s any) was not what I had exactly wished for, but the companionship made up for the languid aura the place exuded. After waiting in three separate lines for 7 minutes, three burgers and a coke were ordered and duly served after 19 minutes. Another 20 minutes were efficiently wasted to consume the meager amounts. The last morsels were dearly held on to; and the endeavor to eat them up reminded me of Indian brides being reluctantly sent to their in-laws on M-day. All right, bad imagery...Apologies accepted…..I mean, granted. Aooooop was dissatisfied with the victuals and to date, owes me 60 bucks.
Stop One and a half: Uphaar complex
1815 hrs.
I would suggest Harry Potter fans to either skip this part or lay aside any expectations. I call this part of our excursion as “Stop one and a half” since it formed a small part of the whole thing and was entirely for official business: withdrawing/retrieving/whatever money from an SBI ATM. Another dull place valiantly put up with. Of course, with the assistance of the other two musketeers.
Second Stop: SDA
1900 hrs.
Pats, the expert bartender, makes Aooooop an offer he couldn’t refuse and we ended up in Masala Junction. Pats offered to demonstrate his alcohol-concocting prowess and share a drink with Aooooop. Aooooop shied away at first and then, acquiesced, reminding me, peculiarly, of a betrothed girl. Masala Junction is not a bad place to dawdle after putting one’s legs to test for three hours. Soothing ambience, a friendly waiter/bartender/whatever, propinquity with our college and above all, discount for Homo sapiens from our college.
Drinks were ordered by the dexterous Pats, which included a mock tail for an amateurish me. Is “mock” tail a pun, contrived by alcoholics?? Anyway, Aooooop subjected his drink to the same treatment that Punjabi truck drivers give to Lassi, much to the disapproval of Pats. Candid discussions, a fundamental feature of the activity of wasting time over a table of drinks, soon followed. As is the custom; inconsequential, exhaustive dissection of all unimportant issues was done. An innocuous question sprang up from Pats, “Is there anything in the world, which can leave you completely contended….or happy?” Ahem….I think over the kazillions of options and promptly eliminate each one of them. A terse reply, “Nope, I would still want more.” Pats was even quicker to retort, “Tu bauhaut jaldi buddhha ho jaayega.” Aooooop smirked and nodded hid head in approval. I twitched me eyebrows in protest…that’s usually the minimum I do to protest.
Hostel
2100 hrs.
I decided that I was not getting old. I came up with a list of things that give me even a moment of joy, if not ever-lasting happiness. If there’s a female Homo sapiens reading this post, my suggestion would be not to get an idea from the list. It may not be applicable for all male Homo sapiens. The list is still incomplete and is not arranged in any sort of preference.

1) Tasty, filling, sumptuous food. If it’s home-made, then all the more better.
2) Complements, big time. Especially being called ‘cute.’ I crave for attention and praise. A weakness, I agree.
3) Meeting friends after a long time.
4) Good academic performance.
5) A smile.
6) Kids.
Maybe, eternal happiness is just a concept. It’s the smaller moments of ‘bliss’ that we should look out for, cherish them and let them stay. Hope doesn’t spring eternally, but is nurtured by these pearls. Make a list of your own and see if it makes a difference.

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“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve….” (;Bilbo Baggins)
-J.R.R. Tokien
(The Hobbit )

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http://www.esnips.com/doc/b278f178-5d1d-4e25-89af-b672ad10c3e9
-Courtesy aj (http://azzuandme.blogspot.com/)