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Surreal

Magnificent are the thundering antlers of the mysterious stag Oats and barley, golden fields, invigorating too Rare be such beauty, admire, that man dares to Ere you speak, take time to read every letter, every word Lest jest sometimes makes peacocks of a macaw Even maelstrom or tempest occasionally looks lo Fruits no longer edible directly; what are they best for To eat or excite, to feel or delight?! ok “Leave! Now! “, I bellowed at the gorgeous blonde in front of me, as I forced her into a taxi. She looked at me with large innocent brown eyes, searching for some semblance of pardon, love or even hope. She had been forgiven. I think. But I had never loved her. I think. And there was no hope for her. I think. “Your mouth speaks a language unintelligible to your heart. You don’t actually want me to leave, do you?” she questioned, raising her eyebrows and smirking simultaneously. I sneered. “I don’t care for you; I never did. I just used you. Like everyone else”, I lied. She could
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Links

Won't you forget about me? For the ignorant, that's from the soundtrack of an amusing movie I happened to see last night. Breakfast Club . Lovely movie. Like Syriana, which also I watched (albeit for the second time) yesterday. I had planned to get my final report done or the No Dues process started. Safe to say neither task got done and hence procrastinated to today. So much of work to do, and I actually feel sleepy and bored. Sleepy but not sleepworthy sleepy. Its complicated. "I knew that I wanted to do my best. In the extreme weather conditions, I kept my nerves to get the quota. " Thus spake Rathore, the double trapper. Unfortunately, I happened to just read the last part and assume he too is voicing his opinion on the current reservation typhoon hitting our country. Baboons we have in New Delhi running the operations. Thank God for some intelligent souls like Narayana Murthy . I am strongly against the reservation system using castes. I am strongly for reser
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C'est la vie

I was sitting in my home listening to CDs of my father's college reunion music, so basically the 70s. I was amazed. For the songs weren't obscure esoteric songs long forgotten by time. Nay. They were in fact the very songs I have been listening to these 4 years at IIT. Come Together (Beatles), Have You Ever Seen The Rain (CCR), Smoke Over Water (Deep Purple), Imagine (John Lennon), Annie's Song (John Denver) and other such wonderous songs. Again, and again. Has music not transgressed the Rocking Seventies? Sure, there have been other bands (Read Cold Play) who have made their mark since three decades ago but nothing to the tune of the classics. I suppose, for me, ever since I was introduced to Simon & Garfunkel, ever so long ago, there was no looking back. Or maybe, this is more an endemic thing. To the insti. For once I was asked a question pertaining to my musical tastes. I was asked as well as B (Cummander B). Both of us had answers which revolved around bands atle
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Requiem for a Blog…. Naah, You’re a Rockstar!

Ok so it’s not going to be a song. It’s supposed to be more like a sad post. I’ve thought about ending this blog for some time now. With a killer of a post. A post, that centuries later, aficionados and patrons of literature and art will still hail as the greatest achievement of man. After the Mona Lisa. But then, naah. Why kill something when, for all practical reasons, it will probably die a natural death by itself. I’ve always thought I should have had a different blog site address because this one not only reminds me of college but also of a name I shall no longer go by. And that is quite disheartening. Which is why I wanted to commit blogicide. But then I thought to myself, with the kind of schedule I have lined up, I probably won’t have time. Which, in a way, is good. I think I’ve done enough squandering of precious Time through myriad practices of procrastination, devoted prayers to Morpheus and Hypnos and other such (and more) blasphemous activities. Which is al
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Bittersweet Symphony

I slowly opened my eyes and looked around at the three colleagues of mine. I was smiling awkwardly as I tried studying the face of the person in front of me. He seemed quiet and serene. Tranquil. The person to my right seemed to have his eyes wide open as he gave a spaced over vibe. The last individual had already succumbed to the exercise. I closed my eyes and lost myself to amusing reveries. One of the first images that come to my mind, is the mess top of my hostel. It has been different things at different points of time during my short sojourn at the institute. Seen me as a guileless young second year, as a somewhat matured albeit happy-go-lucky third year and finally as the unequivocal profound wise man as the fourth year. Yet through it all, it has been my oasis in the confusion and problems of everyday existence. Yogasana. We had picked up this hobby hardly a few months back. To counter the stress and tension we faced at office diurnally. Personally I had never realize
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Goal

The ball was finally with me. I steadied myself as I looked up to see the goalpost. Half the field away. And with three defenders dieing to charge at me. I put the ball forward and thought to myself, “This is your chance. Your opportunity to prove yourself. To the world around you. To everyone. To her.” I dribbled past the first, then a swift movement past the second, faked a shot and beat the third. It was me and the goalie. One on one. What seemed like eternity then, happened in a split-second. I saw the anxious goalie unsure of whether or not to make a run out of his spot on the white line. I made up my mind, took aim and shot… Finally, his dreams were coming true. Here was a friend, who in spite of being the most talented person I have ever met, had surrendered his dreams and settled on more pragmatic ambitions. Goals that needed their dedication and diligence no doubt, but were mere asteroids in the galactic possibilities that entailed as a result of his enviable skills. Goal
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Nostalgia

First day. Decided to watch the likes of Fart Box, KD and Nitya play football in the quadrangle. Sat down. A quarter hour later, the seniors join me for what was then going to be my first introduction session. Fortunately or otherwise, an addled Approx, also enters the discussion of his own free will. Of course, back then he didn’t know that he would be given such a name. I was given a short lived nick name which is better left to the imagination. Night and room number 268 has all its three residents settling in for their first night in the institute when an abrupt knock disturbs them. Opening the door, reveals none other than Torso, also not yet privy to his nick. Torso pleads to spend the night in our room since none of his roommates had turned up. We concede to his request. Torso, as infamous as he is now, spends his first ever night, sleeping on two tables. Some nights later, in the company of many esteemed seniors, am in the 5 th wing. Many things transpire. Helmet is born
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