Showing posts from 2011

My 2011: The Year That Was

The last few hours of 2011 remain & I don’t have anything better to do. So I decided its time I wrote down something sensible as the last post of 2011. Plus I owed it to my blog-I’d managed to forget it’s birthday again(24th Dec).
The year that was…2011”- It sounds like an essay given as winter holidays homework to me; anyway my 2011 was fun. I remember starting it with white rum & a crappy movie(some Akshay Kumar movie whose name I now don’t care to remember). The white rum met its fate down the flush as did the movie. It was a bleak start but things turned out better thereafter. I have made a list of hallmarks here & am too lazy to categorize them as achievements/failures. Here goes: ·Getting into the finals of a state-level IT quiz & not winning it.·Managing to pass 1st year of MCA without back paper but no 9 point grade & hence no parental satisfaction.·Getting cast as the lead actress in college play but getting cold feet & opting to play the role of namel…

The Weirdest Day of My Life!

My life is full of disastrous days yes, days when I have woken up on the wrong side of bed & landed almost in front of a car 2 hours later or had the strap of a very vital clothing come off…I could go on but I’m digressing from the topic. Yesterday however was a weird day.. it was as if the universe couldn’t decide to screw with me or make me happy! And mind you this is during my exam-week, when any frivolous mischief of Fate would have me wind up insane.
So it was the ADA(analysis & design of algorithms) paper-(interestingly the word ada roughly implies ‘style’ in Hindi & ‘lazing around’ in my mother tongue Odia, what a misnomer I say). I was busy all morning cursing the guy who thought-“ooh just the algorithms aren’t fun enough lets actually measure how complex they are!” I landed at the empty exam hall 15min before time having given up doing the last-minute look-up in the corridors since Std.12th… I found those topics never appeared in the questions but rather messed up …

I'm Not Twenty Four...

I’d been intrigued by the title when I’d first seen the book on one of my regular trips to the Oxford store. What had amused me was that author Sachin Garg was obviously a male & the title of the novel was something you’d expect a female to say. Well, this happens to be the story of a girl written down by a guy-in an uncanny resemblance to a Chetan Bhagat setting. But trust me guys the similarity ends there! This had been on my will-read list & I finally got lucky ‘coz of BlogAdda.
A chic Delhite MBA grad with stars in her eyes lands up in a tongue-twister town of Karnataka. Reason? Her parents named her ‘Saumya’-a unisexual name that’s misinterpreted to belong to a guy. (All the more reason why parents shouldn’t permanently name their kids without asking them first!) Saumya is flabbergasted as her dreams of dazzling her colleagues with her shapely figure in prim formals are dashed. (Any girl would be if she painstakingly lost weight only to realise no one gave two hoots about …

Don’t Deny Them Children’s Day

Children’s Day…that special day when you were allowed to talk in the class, no “finger on your lips” kind of rules & no class monitor writing your name on the blackboard. When teachers for once had our whole attention & some even managed to make us laugh! No one bunked school on Children’s Day!
The last time I celebrated Children’s Day was like 5-6 years back. Teachers of St. Joseph’s Girls’ High School celebrated this day with as much enthusiasm as we kids did on Teacher’s Day. There were no classes in the first half with the teachers performing for us. Song & dance and in some cases mimicry were performed & I should say our teachers were a pretty talented lot! Chocolates were of course a must & no one scolded if you sat through the second half in class with one in your mouth. Every teacher, even the strictest ones who entered the class would tell us a story or make us play games.
As we reached the higher classes we started appreciating these respites from everyday…

The Day/Night I Travelled Alone

In all my 22 years of existence the only time I have ever travelled alone was maybe when I was born…but that too I doubt would be counted considering I was still tied to Mom by the umbilical cord. So last night was the first time I could put to use the “don’t talk to strangers, don’t put your hand outside the window” rules. I was travelling from the steel city of Odisha back to its capital trough the Naxalite-infested jungles (pointed out rather helpfully by a friend). My parents never let me play with fire but put me right into the frying pan I say!
My father had made it clear that the seat in the bus beside me was to be strictly occupied by a female. So all dreams of me drowsily dropping off on a handsome lad’s shoulder & then we falling in love were shattered. Least of all I wished that seat remained empty so I could use the extra leg space. But of course the seat had to be occupied & occupied by a 60+ year old.
Now no offence meant to any elders but trust me, they want to kn…

Sikandar: 10 Players, 68 Days

I have read books of many Indian authors, (not just Chetan Bhagat mind you) but this book reminded me of the renowned author- Manoj Das & to be honest even a simplified version of Paulo Coelho! One advice to those who pick this book-do not attempt to finish it in a day. This is a book that needs to be understood, each page holds so much meaning that you can’t help being overwhelmed by it. So even though I’m a girl who finishes thick Harry Potter book in a matter of hours, I took my time to gulp down all that Binayak Banerjee offered in Sikandar, for a full week! The book is an English translation by Soma Ghosh of the Bengali novel of the same name.
Big Boss has become rather popular (for reasons unfathomable to me). Now imagine you could see what is exactly going on inside the head of Shakti Kapoor! Well, this is the Bengali version of Big Boss, where 10 very diverse personalities participate & spend 68 days in a confined house ‘Jatugriha’. It will be impossible to try & sk…

The Paaaaarrttyyy

The entire auditorium was full of people talking at various decibel levels. I had a déjà vu moment taking in the scenario-ah... it’s just like how they show on TV, the LokSabha TV that is. Everyone was talking & no one was listening, the CR’s were fighting over the mike & trying to calm down the MCA-BCA crowd. Surprising how these very students showed no signs of life or consciousness in the DBMS or Networking class! Why there even broke out a fight between 2 guys…with the age-old Bihari-Bengali enmity. I was left wondering… isn’t this Odisha dude? The Odia crowd was busy gossiping in some corner oblivious to their surroundings. Everything calmed down with the appearance of the Dean & Asst.Dean at the scene. This was day1 of our freshers’ party meeting!
Due to last year’s tiff between the juniors & seniors( we being the juniors who’d missed out freshers’ party), it’d been decided by the powers that be-no interaction with juniors! I mean we couldn’t even go invite them f…

A Twisted Ghost Story

The first time it was in the shower…at first he thought it was just water droplets trickling down his back. But then it felt stronger, as if someone’s fingers were caressing his bare skin. He whipped around only to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror. He had dismissed that incident, blaming his intoxicated head for all his hallucinations. When he woke up in the mornings he would find the left side of the bed a bit sunken, a slightly crumpled bedspread as if someone had slept in it the last night. But he was a heavy sleeper, hardly changing sides when asleep. Or may be not…the stress of moving into a new city, new workplace may have changed his sleeping patterns. He would never know, he shrugged.
But now he knew.
He was definitely not alone in his new flat. There was another person, perhaps a woman. And a rather hormone-driven at that... if ghosts had hormones that is. He wasn’t a faint-hearted person, yet sharing his apartment with this mysterious invisible person kept bugging him. …

Yeh Dil Maange Mole!

It’s past midnight & I’m blogging. Not because I have nothing better to do, but because I have SO much to do I can’t decide WHAT to do. Déjà vu? Yeah, I know.I was chatting with a friend (yes, that’s what I do when I have a workload) and then the topic of moles & pimples came up. He made some comment about “my mole is a like a white mark on my black face” or something to that effect which like totally bounced off my head-he was high on Coke( the thanda walare) he later confessed. But that made me think about my mole… the silent, black mole sitting jauntily on my nose, assured of its ‘landmark’ status. I’m proud of my mole-it’s a proof that I’m my father’s daughter (Pa has the same kind, except it’s quite inconspicuous). So whenever my Mom throws a comment at me that she might have just picked me up from some mela or worse a garbage dump, I proudly point to my nose & smirk, ha!
All my life I have been subjected to all kinds of ridicule…like the time in Std 10 when my Mom (y…

My Moments…

I have been writing on some serious topics these days…seriously creating an illusion that I can think deep & profound thoughts. That would make the blog title a total misnomer if there ever was one! So in order to protect my reputation & also that of my blog, I am back with a ‘normal’ post. Since all weekend I have been busy with guiding my classmates on how to drink & party( details later) & trying to categorize the various movies I have in my laptop( making space deleting all those useless PPT slides our teachers give us), I am short of inspiration. So I’ll do what I do best-talk about myself.My Most Embarrassing Moment(s):

Ah! I can already see your eyes flare up & you licking your lips in anticipation. No one can resist a good laugh at other’s expense. And I am benevolent enough to let you have your fun. As you already know(presuming you are a regular reader) I am notorious for running into trouble-weird love life, kitchen fires, drunk & wasted, making a fool…

The Face

There she was again. Face half-hidden behind her long dupatta, a glittering ghagra sending out rainbows in the sunlight as she walked or rather glided, the presence of her feet given away by the soft jingling of her anklets. He stood mesmerized as always. The place he was from, he rated a woman by the length & shine of her legs or hourglass figure. He wasn’t used to be stupefied by a pair of kohl-lined eyes or the sight of multicoloured bangles adorning slim hands. But Samar was smitten & not by a desire to conquer, which was strange. All he wanted was to capture the face, her face, her persona, capture it in his camera & show off to the world this startling evidence of the existence of true beauty untouched & virgin.

Samar was an amateur photographer settled in a crowded metro. After the news of his grandfather’s demise, he had decided to visit his old ancestral home & finally sell it off. It was on this visit that he had come across her. Their first encounter had…

A Tale of A Nation

Saba stared around her, in a cool calculated manner. Even though clad in an un-chic salwar suit, she didn’t appear like the usual helpless woman, stranger to the city as was evident by the heavy luggage she carried. The bus stop was crowded & no one paid her any attention. Except 2 men. Each was standing at the farthest corner of the stand & was watching out for her. Saba gave them one look & nodded her head.
                                                                      *     *     *
Sinduhstan’s early morning newspapers reported another attack by terrorists in the commercial capital of the country. There were photos of victims splashed across the newspaper. Full-page photos of people with their guts all over the place. If there was a competition of the goriest picture ever published in media, the top prize would have been shared by Sinduhstan’s dailies. Kumar frowned, ”This won’t do.. these people had to be stopped.” And it was his duty to do that. He headed off to …

Stay Tuned For The 6PM Slot

I am a person who can’t put down a book until it’s finished. And Naomi Datta’s The 6PM Slot was a book that one can not put down anyway! No, it’s not a crime thriller or even a mushy romance involving teenage hormone high people. It’s a normal story involving adults. If I were to summarize it for you, you wouldn't be impressed, but I’m no Naomi Datta. She breathes life & adds humour to the story like one would add salt to a dish-perfect swad anusaar (excuse the lame simile).
We begin with the boss, the convent –educated, Power Point presentations obsessed Rahul & his boot-licking deputy Harish contemplating on how to lift their channel Youth TV’s TRP. At least Rahul is thinking hard, all Harish does is nod his head. Well, the boss comes up with the idea of bringing in a revolution-targeting the 6pm slot in their channel & giving it a whole new look. And all this has to be done quick. So enter Tania-the protagonist of the story. Stuck with a show dealing with celebrities…

When It Rained…

I glanced across the library hall. He was staring at me again. Why doesn’t he stop? Idiot. Some teacher would notice & we would get thrown out. But I couldn’t help smiling back at him. Abhi had the cutest smile & he looked the best when he was glancing at me surreptitiously, as if knowing well how it sent my heart racing.  We always played this game. Sit at the far ends of the hall, he on the boys’ side & me on the girls’, glancing at each other. He called it romancing with the eyes. No better term for it.
The clock struck 6. Both of us got up at the same moment, returned the books, grabbed our bags & left the library. Once outside, there was no need to stay apart. Soon his warm hand enveloped mine & we walked down the road to our favourite roadside stall. There was a light drizzle & a cool soft breeze blew my hair across my face. He took his time to pull it back. There were very few people on the road & even if they had stared I didn’t care. I loved these l…

And Then The Trees Walked


Himani woke up with a feeling of sadness. It was a clear sunny day, but her spirits were down as if some grief was sucking at her happiness not giving her permission to enjoy the beautiful morning. And then she remembered. Today her son would be lost, lost to the giant & ferocious Pyrus who knew no mercy. God! Was there no escape? He is only 12! Himani cursed her ancestors, cursed everyone. Who would protect her child…there is no one. Every other human is as helpless as her…some are lucky to die a natural death & some like her son are fed to demons like Pyrus.
Grandma came into the room to check what took Himani so long. Seeing her angry tears, she knelt down beside her,”My child, do not cry. At least your son will be lucky to escape all the hard labour & difficult life that we lead. He will reach Heaven & stay happily with his father.” “There is no Heaven! There is just Hell & it is right here…I’m burning in it!” Himani rushed out. Grandma sighed sadly. Her ol…

Let’s Save Paper!

I looked aghast at the pages in front of me. “You have to re-do this assignment. I told you to do just one program per page. Submit it next time you come to lab” the lab assistant bellowed. I stared at the some 10 pages lying in the file. Pages with one face empty & the other filled with some C programs. It looked neat enough to me, I’d even tried to improve my less-than-legible handwriting as this was a lab file. But no, I was to redo it just because there were 2 programs on one sheet. My programs, specially the types that say “WAP to input 10 employees’ records..” they hardly take up more than 10 lines. To waste an entire face on 10 lines was a crime or so I thought.
This made me think, after we give our exams & get our grades, what happens to these files? A simple chat with another classmate revealed that it all went to the local raddi-wala. Wow! I stay up all night, work out the problem, painstakingly pen it down, let it travel through many other hands( for the CP-copy past…

Being Beautiful

Take a look at them…one is a model, blessed with flawless features, a good education, a charming personality that can woo many hearts. The other is just an everyday face you will come across at some construction site or the other. Nothing out of the ordinary. But I bet you won’t believe me it if I tell you that both these women are beautiful. Why just women… I say Tom Cruise has perfection & beauty and so does Johnny Lever. I see you are smiling…

To me beauty has never been a superlative adjective. It is an intangible asset and hence it’s not easy to quantify it’s value. Clichéd yet necessary is the line-‘beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder’. You think God would create something as ‘ugly’? But then why is it that some people are labelled beautiful and some people spend the rest of their lives trying to hide behind a false mask, pretending to be someone they are not so the world would categorize them under the ‘beautiful’ identifier?
We see people in the West visiting tanning pa…