Writing Skills

I have an english paper tomorrow, which explains why I have a lot of free time on my hands. Anyhow, I took the opportunity to practice SAT 2 math and thought I'd do essay practice for the SAT 2 writing test. However, I soon realised that I really hate writing essays, and thought of a short story instead, on the way to the market to get a haircut.

This is a monumental achievement in my writing career. This is the first story with Human characters that I have ever written where they don't end up dead, or greviously injured in the end. No people at all, in fact, were harmed in the writing of this story. I'm very proud of myself.
Anyhow, no more trailers as to what it's about. I give you:

Shutterbug

“How did you know!” she exclaimed.

“Basically”, he replied, “I’ve been stalking you for the last three weeks. I’ve hacked your computer, found out whatever you’ve been searching for over the last few weeks, gone through your personal files, and pretty much done everything I could to get to know you inside out, all so I could get you this.”

She rolled her eyes disbelievingly. “Well, a job well done, it’s perfect. How on earth you managed to get an autographed Beatles LP cover is beyond me, but…this is just so perfect. Tell me again why you did this?”

He stood blank for a second, and then broke out into a broad grin.

“Why did I do it? Just for the look on your face, why else?”

And then he saw it again, that big lopsided Madhubala smile of pure joy, that kind that only the perfect gift can bring to someone’s face. From seemingly nowhere, she heard a click sound, which vanished just as fast as it was heard.

“You”, She exclaimed, “are the sweetest chap in the whole wide world, you know that?” She leant forward and gave him a big hug. He smiled to himself, and added bonus, he thought.

“Well, I’ll be off, now. I’m leaving for Mumbai; you may not see me for a while. Consider it a return present, okay? Catch you later”

And with that, he disappeared from her life for good, with mission accomplished. He had to move on to bigger quarry in Mumbai. He was meeting and old school friend, whom he had recently caught up with, after some six or seven years. They had chatted over the net, and in just a few conversations, he had begun to share some of his personal problems. It’s amazing what you’ll tell someone you know when you can’t see their face. Anyhow, life wasn’t going exceptionally well, or according to plan for Hari. Things had, in fact, gone remarkably wrong. The rigors of Mumbai life had got to him. His health was shot; he had high blood pressure at 23, we was having major problems with his job, and was in danger of being fired, and he had an eviction notice from is landlord, for falling back on his rent. Things could not get much worse, and yet, they did. His girlfriend had also walked out on him, for not having enough time for her. Like Murphy stated, everything goes wrong all at once. When life hands you lemons, you gripe about them to the nearest chap you can find, and that magically happened to be our man in question.

Before meeting with Hari for a cup of coffee, he had made a few arrangements. Doing random favors for people did have certain advantages, and even in an uncommon city, he could pull a few strings. Firstly, he called one of his friends in McKinsey Consultancy, to ask them if they were hiring. Seeing as they were, he promised his contact that he had the perfect man for the job. With blind generosity often comes faith of purpose, and his contact immediately set up an interview for one Mr. Hari Sharma, for what was probably the job of his dream. Besides, rent would hardly be an issue with a six figure salary.

Next, he stopped his taxi at the nearest flower shop, bought a dozen roses, and spent the next fifteen minutes of the taxi-ride on the way to one Shalini Puri’s residence, coming up with an appropriate poem for a woman he knew nothing about. The girl in question was, of course, Hari’s neglected girlfriend, and he felt certain that she needed to feel a bit special.

Shalini, of course, was thrilled with her roses, as well as the charming courier-man that Hari had sent for her. Suddenly, he didn’t seem such a bad chap after all, and she would definitely give him a call at two in the afternoon, just as the pleasant courier-man had asked her to. The smile on her face was priceless, and was momentarily disrupted by a strange clicking noise.

Soon after, he rendezvoused with Hari at a Café Coffee day. He hadn’t changed a bit in seven years. He still had the most photogenic face in his school, and cheeks so chubby he looked like some kind of deranged teddy bear. Of course, he was quite worried at the moment, but that would soon be taken care of. He had a couple of pleasant surprises coming up. Anyhow, they ordered a couple of Vegan Shakes, both of them being Lactose Intolerant. Ah, back to the point. Conversation began.

“You know, I’m really glad you’re visiting Mumbai on business, I haven’t had a decent chat with anyone for a long time. Though I seriously doubt you can help, as you promised. Things are kind of out of control, I don’t really think there’s much you can do.”

He smiled. “Well, I’ll be the judge of that. I had a friend working in McKenzie, and he had a job opening. You said you were having a few problems at work, so I thought I’d get you an interview.”

Hari’s jaw dropped. Before it could pick up again, his mobile phone rang, sharp at two-o-clock.

“Oh, I also paid a visit to Shalini; Sweet girl, she is.”

The ensuing phone conversation was riddled with exalted screeches, and random words of kindness. It lasted a good ten minutes, before they decided to call it an afternoon. It wasn’t their decision to make; truly, Hari’s incoming was unfortunately not free. As he cut the phone, his face seemed to be exploding like a cracker-full Diwali.

“Thank you, thank you so very much. I have no idea why you did this, or why, or…How, how can I ever repay you?”

“Repay me? Hmm…the smile on your face is payment enough.”

There were two or three clicks this time, but they didn’t particularly distract Hari.

“Anyhow, I must fly. Big important business meeting and all, and then I have to fly right back to Delhi. See you around.”

Hari was too happy to be particularly disappointed in the sudden departure.

“Again, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I don’t know…what prompted your generosity, it’s just incredible, just, wonderful…What do you do, by the way?”

“Oh, I’m an artist.” He said, and departed before Hari could get a word in.

With that, two years of work was done. He returned to his studio, booted up his beautiful Apple iMac, and opened up Photoshop. He took of his glasses, plugged a fire-wire port into them, and downloaded the last three photographs of his series. A neat little gadget he had picked up from a London intelligence store, the spectacle cam was not, in fact, limited to use for Mission Impossible wannabes.

Well, he put the final touches onto his last three photographs, edited them, spruced them up, generally made them look really nice, and then hit the magic print button. An album of fifty quality photographs came out.

Later that month, his exhibition opened. It was simply titled “Joy”, and consisted of some of the brightest, purest, most wonderful expressions of Men, women, children, teenagers that had ever been captured by a hidden camera.

The exhibition was a hit, and many art collectors bid for his work, proving once and for all that there is such a thing as a million dollar smile.

The End.

There, told ya no one dies. Cheerio.

Limit tends to being Fucked

How disastrous must a maths paper be, to qualify as a national calamity?

Anyhow, let us talk of nicer things. Better yet, for anyone who needs cheering up (and believe me, plenty of people do), I offer you distraction.

Firstly, I send you to My Cruel Dictotorship, which is just starting up. I was feeling upset today, so I changed it from a benevolent oligarchy, where few were allowed to vote, to a blatant dictatorship, where I rule supreme. I just legislated to outlaw Gambling, so Haha! Lets see you play dice with my universe.

Secondly, those closer to me will know that I've been telling some of the worst jokes(or the best, depending on your state of mind) ever told. This is because I've found this wonderful wonderful site full of Sciencie Puns which will truely send you into splits. Dregs of Humanities please beware, you will not understand these, so go away, shoo!
If you don't believe me, here's a sample.
Question: What do mermaid mathemeticians wear?
Answer: Algeabras!

Muhahahahahha.
In the words of one Doggiebert, I feel it my duty to share my gift of mirth with those around me. Anyhow, pip pip for the next one, I hope its not an equivalent disaster.

Morrrrrrrrrrrtalll Kommmmmmbaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!

Yeah, aside from the long, drawn out title, I took a break from maths today, and went for Kombat, the open quiz at IIT.
The quiz was conducted by two chaps, one of whom was Amon, but, I'm not sure which one that was , considering I've never seen a photo of the chap. I however do hope that it wasn't the first one, as he had an unhealthy obsession with Madonna, and Gay Porn, asking multiple questions on both. Howsoever, it was a good quiz. Me along with Shreyas and Aranyaka qualified for the finals, but got damn unlucky with seating, and ended up getting jacked. We finished fifth, and failed to qualify for the final four battle. As our team name proudly stated, Blah!

Continuing on this entire break funda, after the quiz, mesa went for lunch at new greek place that has opened up in the Deer Park Market. It was, in fact, the restraunt's second day, and I think we were their first lunchtime customers.
Any, before Myriam Reshi or Sabina Saikal(both of whom I respect and admire, for they have the perfect job) decide to pay a visit, here's the official review from Blah!

It's Greek to Me,

Yes, that's the name of the place. How should I start? Well, you walk in, and you notice the decor. The decor is excellent, and Papa who is far better travelled than I, promises that it is in fact designed like most of the houses of the region. The lighting is good, and they've got nice, greekish music playing in the background. The kitchen counter is live, and along with the music, you get to hear the nice sizzle of oil and water on a grill. All in all, a good effect.
To the food now. Now, I've never been to a speciality greek restraunt before, so I have nothing to compare the authenticity of the food to, so I shant bother. With that out of the way, I will go on to say that the food was excellent. IT was cooked mostly in very nice olive oil, which has wonderful flavour, and the food in general is fresh, and not fried at all.
I had the Lamb Stew, and shared other things with my parents. The lamb stew was brilliant. The flavour of the stew was nice and subtle, and had a swig of wine in it. The lamb itself was tender, which is a pleasant change from the usual tough stuff you get at most places. The rice was the best done thing. It tasted good, and was cooked in olive oil and parsley. Just the rice would be good enough to eat.
The starter was a very sharp Spinach and Mushroom salad. We also had pita and feta bread, with dips, and both were quite classy. I must say their quality of ingredients is exceptional, everything was fresh, and succelent.
This is definitely a place I'd reccomend to Vegitarians, and mushroom lovers. We ordered a Mushroom and Sundried Tomotoes Meze, and it was exceptionally good. I would go as far as to say some of the best mushrooms I've ever had. The other veggie dish, chargrilled vegetables, was also very nice.
When going to a new place, you should give everything a shot, so I indulged in dessert as well. "Chocolate of Troy" was my chosen sin, and it may have been more beautiful than Helen, well, definitely the Helen in the recent Troy movie. It was four very generous pieces of Fudge, with almonds, with a big blog of ice cream in the center. A definite must for chocaholics, who aren't particularly interested in minding calories.
The pricing was, well, on the steeper side, and I'd say a good filling meal would go up to Rs. 300 a head, though if you really want to pig out, hike it up a little more. However, for the quality provided, it is worth it. As my father said, it's a good place to take the Goras when they visit, rather than pay five star prices.

All in all, four stars to the place. I'm sure it'll do good business, even though it's in a pretty desolate locality.

Mini and Me!

For one of the few times in my life, things did work out according to a plan. I'm selling my TV in Mohan Singh Market, and for my birthday's final gift, I got
drumrolls please....
My very own iPod Mini!
Papa returned from his around-the-world-in-fifteen-days trip yesterday, and brought along with him this beeyootiful little thing.
Honestly, this has to be one of the sweetest things ever designed by Apple Corp, and they're probably the best at designing sweet gizmo's in the whole world. While everyone else tries to glam up whatever they do, these guys go for beauty in simplicity, and thus you have a rectangular slab of an MP3 player, no bigger than my palm(which is as it is, very small), which can store all of 4 GB of music, and other things. The thing's design is brilliant. The clickwheel is the easiest thing to use, and you can properly navigate through currently 700 songs, with no hitch whatsoever.
I took it for a test run today, on my way back from tooshan. After 4 hours of maths, walking home with music in my mind is the best thing I can think of, and this accentuated any previous experience of walkman/mp3 player I've ever had. This was incredible. It was like having Winamp, or well, iTunes in my pocket, or more appropriately, on my belt clip.

A funny thing, though, is that to change the volume, you have to swirl around the click wheel, so if you've got it around your belt, and you're walking down the road, it really looks like you're scratching your balls.

So the next time you see a vulgar, crude short guy, bouncing along with headphones in his ear, with a smile on his face, be assured, he's just adjusting the volume, and not his crotch.

That time of the year

Redezvous, the bigass cultural fest at IIT Delhi begins tomorrow.
You know that something is up in IIT when you can see a guy holding one stratocaster in each hand, nonchalantly walk up to the IIT Hostel Gate Bus Stand.
Damn, I wish I had my camera along, to take a snap of that.

e-Spice

Getting bored with all the studying, and with serious guilt complexes about not doing enough for Exun, and becoming a useless member, and with a couple of other hidden motives, Mesa decided to go for the Group Discussion at e-Spice 2004, DPS Noida's computer fest.

First, about the event.
Going for any computer symposium has its own charms.
Firstly, you get to sit in egurucool lab indefinitely, till someone decides that it is about time to move out of school. Invariably, this is the only branch of inter-school competition where we are actually late, and not five hours early for an event. This terminal lateness syndrome of the Exun Clan was compounded by the fact that the bus broke down, and decided to return to school, thus delaying us even further. Well, it worked out for the best, as this event also had terminal lateness syndrome, with nothing in particular starting on time, and everything in general going on too long.
Secondly, you have acess to Rrrrungta's iPod, on which you get to play Parachute. Parachute is a great fun game, you have this little Anti-Aircract gun, which has unlimited ammo, and you're supposed to shoot down helicopters, and the parachuter's they decide to drop by.
Thirdly, like quizzes, its perfectly acceptable to be a little insane in a computer symposium, in fact, it's even encouraged, so I feel at home.
Ah, so we arrived, and I got to carry out hidden motive number one. I talked to the MIS quizzers, who were there, and we have formed super-team for IIT Rendezvous, as rest of my DPS team is not vela enough like me to go for quiz two days before a maths paper. It is fixed, and I shall be going to Kombat with Melange-Man and Shreyas.
Anyhow, back to my event. I went for Group Discussion, (GD), where I was up against some known faces, including Melange Boy. Our first topic, in qualifying round was "Can India become and IT Hub?", and was, well, quite boring. Anyhow, I did manage to qualify, so all was well. So far so good, and other such things.
Then, after the second round of qualifying, the six finalists, including moi, went up for the next GD. This time, the topic was "Open Source-Threat to Microsoft Supremacy", and mesa had great fun. This was of course helped by the fact that I was the only person on stage, for some reason, who had any real idea what Open Source was all about, and the only one at all to have used any open source software. As a result, this is how the discussion would go.
Moderator would put up a point for discussion. I would elaborate, state my opinion, and usually rave about how great Firefox is, and how crappy Internet Exploder is. Following this, five other people would try to latch onto some information I provided, and somehow coerce a point of out that. One of them openly claimed to not know a single thing about the topic, and her summarisation included something about "grey areas". She wanted to unite Microsoft and Linux, into some whacko middle ground. I wish the poor girl well.
Anyhow, so me winning was a pretty much forgone conclusion, and well, I did. Alls well that ends well, as Mr. Mukesh had requested me to win, as I had not been for event in long time. Goody.
Now, on to quiz. Karan and Abhishyk qualified, and got on stage, where they massacred the opposition, in a cruel and undignified manner. Compounding the competitions problems, we decided to set up huge and loud cheering squad, and made a lot of noise in support, and even attempted starting a Mexican Wave. That, however, didn't work out too well.
Unfortunately, we didn't win any other event, and thus ended up missing the winners trophy by a point, and picked up overall runners up, instead.

Why did we win these two, you ask? Were we good? Yes. Were we capable? Yes. Did this have anything to do with us winning? NO! We won these two events, for one reason alone.

Maria!

Our new lucky pen, Maria, also known as "The-pen-with-girl-who's-ass-lights-up" did it all for us. For a long time, we heathen have gone without a lucky pen by our side, and now we have found one with far greater power than our first. Along with the power of luck, it also has the amazing power of distraction. Fellow quizzers/GD members cannot concentrate on the task ahead, as they are mesmerized by the brilliance of Maria.
Thus, further events hold good prospects for us. With Maria by our side, all things look possible again. Our terrible quizzing season will soon change course.
Ah, few believed at first, but now Exun has succumbed to the lure of a lucky pen. Karan has gone to the extent to request a picture, to post on his blog.
All will view the splendour, the might, the sheer insanity of our lucky pen. Be in awe, ladies and gentlemen, you will never see such things that come with warnings, that they contain small parts.

Extraaaneous Crap

I love watching cricket, as do many people all over our country. Its a national pastime, perhaps one of our only ones. There's not much you need to do to boost the ratings of cricket viewership in India, however, there are of course things you can do to reduce it. Viewers want quality broadcasting, and when you're used to the wonderful team of ESPN STAR, which includes the likes of Geoff Boycott, Sunil Ghavaskar, and Harsha Bhogle, so most of the other crap that is dished out by other channels pretty much turns you off.
One of these is Extraa Innings, the pre-game show of Set Max, which unfortunately has the rights to the big events, such as the current ICC world cup.
Now, today is India Pakistan, so I thought I'd catch a bit of the pre-game. I shouldn't have. Such inhuman torture has never been presented to cricket lovers. This is one of my pet grouses, and I am going to rant about it.

Firstly, you have the commentry team, which makes you cry. Anyone, and I mean anyone could do a better job. Lets start with the presentation team. Leading the pack is Charu Sharma, who is the only person on the team who can string together a group of sentences without screwing up, which is a really great thing, because he knows nothing about cricket. He, of course, thinks he knows a lot about cricket, so he continuously interrupts anyone else who wants to give an opinion, and when he's not doing this, he's busy flirting with:
Mandira Bedi: Look, if I want to see a broad in noodlestraps, I'll turn on FTV, they're far more revealing, and they don't talk. What I do NOT want is some broad who knows nothing at all about the game giving her two bits on how brilliant things are going to happen in todays game. If that broad happens to be an annoying one like Mandira Bedi, I am forced to chuck things in disgust at my TV screen. Can somone pleaase get her off?
Next, we have Kapil Dev, who cannot speak cohenrantly in either English, Hindi, or in fact Punjabi. He's just not a public speaker, so I don't know why he's asked to speak so much. For gods sake, there are better ways for him to serve the game than speak about it!
Next, they've turned it into some great Tamasha, to bring in god knows what demographic that enjoys crap. Why is there a tarot card and numerologist on a cricket match??? Aren't our newspapers enough for some nonsense? But no, today some Ma Maa Di comes up with her brilliant observation, that as today is the 19th, and 9+1 equals ten, and ten is Sehwag's number, he's going to do damn well today. I kid you not, this is pretty much exactly what she said.

Maybe we should just change our batsmen's numbers according to the sum of the dates of the match, THAT'll make us win for sure!
Then, you have the actual commentry team. With the sole exception of Tony Grieg, and some West Indian woman, they are all terrible. The West Indian woman unfortunately never does commentry on a decent game, thus you pretty much only have Tony Greig. The rest of them can't talk, or in the case of Kris Srikkant, make you feel like torturing them verrrry sllowly, and preferably do so by tearing our their Vocal Chords, or something of the like.

As I write, two wickets have fallen, strangely enough, Sehwag's not one of them. Maybe the numbers are all for him. Looks like its going to be a Pakistan Victory, and you know what? I blame it all on Exxtraa Innings. They've probably made the team think they're in a soap opera, rather than a cricket match, and that it'll all work out in the end.

Casablanca

After a hard days work(Yeah, right, I studied Microeconomics), I sat down, and enjoyed yet another one of my birthday presents; Casablanca, which was the second thing gifted to me by Vrinda.

This movie is supposed to be a classic, and to be frank, I'm suspicious of most things that are supposed to be classic. They usually dissapoint, in fact, they usually fail to even have a point. I am reminded of classics like Charles Dickens(Ugh), Gabriel Garcia Marquez and the biggest sham of them all, Titanic.

This was an exception. Casablanca was a brilliant movie, something that I do not think could ever be remade. Like The Godfather, it has elements that cannot be redone, or recaptured. Plus, it's in Black and White, which adds a special dimension. You know how black and white photos can look really arty? Well, this whole movie looks like an artistic black and white photo.
Anyhow, lets get down to it, what makes this movie so special.
Firstly, there is this incredible tension between Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, the kind I've never seen before on film. You can see the pain in both their eyes, and for every spoken line in this movie, there are a couple of unsaid ones. Its really brilliant.
Secondly, the definition of Smooth and Suave simply must stem from Bogie, seriously, he puts James Bond and other later acolytes to shame. His line delivery is also brilliant, there is this great clipped voice he uses, and there is a lot of dry, sarcastic humour in this movie. Its very strangely British, for an American production, and cast.
Thirdly, great soundtrack, you really do want Sam to play it "just one more time". I'm downloading "As Time Goes By", as I type.
Fourthly, why is it that you don't get beauties like Ingrid Bergman any more? Its not fair, we have a deprived generation, if you can look gorgeous in a heavy trenchcoat, in black and white, with nothing much to show but your face, you've really got something there.
All in all, it was a great movie. Good, sharp script, out of the world performances, and great direction. Yeah, this un makes it to being a classic.
As usual, I shall tell you absolutely nothing about the story, for in case you're a twit like me, and still haven't seen it, I wouldn't want to spoil it for you.

Poetry

For my birthday (God, this is sounding repetitive, but forgive me, I recieved so much), I got a really lovely poem from Sonali, which she has allowed me to share. In fact, she said she would be honoured, and all that.
So here it is, it's really beautiful, if you know why. And no, I'm not going to explain even one line of it.

The Stranger

He comes from another age
with the night sky in his eye
with laughter echoing in his ears
and breakfast on his mind
By day he prowls the streets alone
until the dust of the city bus has cleared
When evenening falls is when
His thoughts decide to take flight
With his purple pink coat of mystery
He tucks me in each night

Minnie mouse with her AK 47
Tap dances her way through life with
mismatched socks for comfort
But someone took her gun away
and how she smiles instead
And every time she falls through
a hole in the road, she
lands in a lively tea party that never stops
With, the Mad Hatter and the Stranger
and a pair of strangely affectionate socks

Part II

While reaching high, and staying thin
Keep the Cheshire smile on your face
And although you may know nothing
of the people marching past
A Nehru Cap will always fix
the too small head(which you do not realise
is your saving grace)
For no one is perfect, and your old man's mind
may be belied by the face and smile of a child
Black hole in your tummy
Juke box in my mind
Singing our weird(but melodic) duet
And through the darkness of the corners of your mind
which I'm sure lurks in the oblivion of our blank screens
waiting to ambush us-
Past the nymphomania of the hapless sock
As Cristina and I lie in an incomprehensible field,
Gazing at an obscure, Impressionist house
While you fly with your purple wings
And instruct the raindrops
On the best way to butter toast

Ouch

Last night, I injured my arm in a way that only those with my quality genetic lineage can.
Let me explain this. As human beings have evolved, its been found that the forehead ridges recede back, (I have none, now), and the chin grows outwards, and larger. Running on this logic, I am probably the highest evolved subspecies of Human Being availible, and shall henceforth refer to me and my family as Homo Superior.
This is because I, along with my family, have one hell of a chin. It's very, very large. It could, in the words of Vinay Eapen, sink the Titanic.
This, however, is not always a blessing, as I realised last night.
See, I sleep with my head on top of my pillow (duhh...), and my arm under the pillow. This usually works out fine, and I get a good night's sleep.
Unfortunately, what happened last night was that my arm slipped out of under my pillow, and slipped under my chin. As a result, I must have slept a good couple of hours with my head and chin pushing down on my arm.
This, by the way, hurts. If any of you have experienced being chin-butted by me, you'll know how extremely painfull this pointed gorging spear can be. To keep it for a period of hours on one's arm is going to do it no good.
As a result, my left arm has been in spasm pretty much all day, which isn't a really great thing when you're left handed.
I now share great empathy with everyone who's ever been hurt by my chin, and would like to apologise sincerely for all the pain I might have caused them, or the amount I might have softened their already terminally pained heads.

Conservation of Happiness

I read somewhere, actually, I didn't, (hell I don't even know at this point how this idea came in to my head, but I'm sure its not mine, anyway, back to it),that the total happiness in this world is constant, and remains conserved, so if I'm happy as hell most of the time, there's pretty much someone out there who's permamently depressed, because of me.
Also, I'm pretty sure that this person knows exactly who I am, and this ticks him off to no end.
To him, I'd just like to say, Yaah Boo, sucks to you.

The Way of the Damned

Here's how exam time works in DPS, and quite frankly, in most schools.
One month before the exams, teachers start making noises about how the exams are coming, and how we should all diligently prepare, by doing small amounts of work everyday. Exactly 3 people decide that this is actually a prudent course of action, and go ahead and do it. These three shall henceforth be known as Smartass Class Toppers.
So, for the next two weeks, the rest of us make noises about how the exams are coming, and thus social engagements start getting cancelled, and the great art of procrastination begins. For majority of populace, nothing significant will happen for a while.
Three weeks before the exams start, a few desparate people like me, who really need decent marks for a change, decide that there's something to this little-bit-study thing after all, especially since the datesheet has come out, and you realise that there is no way you can study for the Chemistry paper in a day and a half, and thus rush to finish of your course. The rest of the populace's procrastination now reaches epic proportions, and social engagements and competitions are now pretty much non-existent.
Two weeks before d-day, desparate people like me realise that more than little bit a day is now needed, and start bunking things like tuition to study(Ironic, isn't it?). Studying is now serious, and takes place for upto 3 hours after school.
The Smartass Class Toppers now study upto 4-5 hours a day, to ensure that there's no way they're getting less than 86 aggregate in the papers.
Now, the procrastinators realise that they've got to get to work, and since little bits of studying didn't really do it for them, they now bunk school in an effort to study. I find this really silly, quite frankly, because you've got to be stark raving mad to study more than 6 hours a day at home. Its not right, unless you've got a paper in two days.
One week before, and school attendance dwindles to minimum, all you get are Smartass Class Toppers, and Vela People like me, who need to complete syllabus, notes, and generally get topics cleared, because they spent most of the last two months out of class, in competition.
4 days before, prep leave starts, and even vela blogs such as this will die. Okay, they won't, but when you've done studying all that you can for the day, or all that you've planned out for the day, and there's no one to talk to, you gotta do something.

So if anyone else shares my Vela tendancies during exam time, you know where to get your daily dose of Blah!

The Senti Stuff

Hey, do any of you know how truly remarkable my friends are? After complaining to no end about how exceedingly hard it was to find a decent birthday present for me, most of them managed to get it pretty much right.
Manav, for instance, got me Wish You Were Here, which I fell in love with.
Karan got me Angels and Demons, by Dan Brown. This is a book which, though not as much fun as Da Vinci Code, I feel is better written, as its twists and turns are a lot less predictable, because you keep thinking the other guy did it. Its the prelude to Da Vinci, and the book where Robert Langdon first appears. I'd really reccomend it, its a great read, for a lazy sunday morning. (Did I mention I finished it on a lazy sunday morning?)
Additionally, while reading Angels and Demons I came across a word, called Seraphim.
Now, a seraphim is literally translated as "The Fiery One", and is a kind of male angel. This particular angel made, umm...vistitations to St. Teresa, for which in fact she was sainted.
She described these visitations as having sent her into throes of ecstacy, and the descriptions were decidedly not spirutual in nature. This entire lengend is captured in a Statue by Bernini, entitled, "The Ecstacy of St. Teresa", and was banned from the Vatican for being too sexually explicit, and thus had to go outside a church in Rome.
Why I bring this up is that this was the second time I came across this word.
The first time was a couple of weeks ago, when Copal insisted on calling me one, even though at the time I had no idea what it meant.
What dreams may come to the girl...
Anyhow, back to the point. I have really exceptional friends. Along with this, I have been gifted a pair of electric pink socks, that do not only clash with my entire wadrobe, but in fact clash with my entire room and house. They're luminous.
Also, I got a Pen-with-A-Girl-In-A-Flowing-Skirt-On Top-Who's-Ass-Lights-Up-Red-When-you push-down-to-write. Needless to say, its our new quizzing pen, and will be carried with us for all events. We don't expect to have any problems with buzzer rounds from now on. Hehe.
Noted exceptions to this exceptional friend thing must be Damini, who ditched us to go study physics, on a class she apparently arranged specifically so that she could have an excuse for not coming. Blah!
Lastly, not one, but two people gifted me "Eats Shoots and Leaves", which means people are really upset by my total lack of spelling, grammar and other related english oddities in my blogs. To them, I'd just like to say, "Go Stick Your Head in a Pig", but that's just me.
Oh, one more thing, someone gifted me a Vase(why???), and I have no idea who it is. Will the Vase-Gifter please claim his/her identity?
Oh, then back to the senti stuff. This is what happens when you do major Chem studying for most of the afternoon, you go a little batty.
Anyhow, I'd just like to send out a whole lot of love to all my buddis and palsh.
And I've crossed my sentipan limit now, so I'll shut up.
Hey, me got a lot of gifts! WooHoo!

Not Quite Eleventhie Chicks

Me and my lovely ladies, on my birthday celebrations.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy

This is minorly for everyone who hasn't read the book, and I must insult you roundedly for not doing so, and majorly for those who have. Its not a review, per se, so much as an appreciation, for such a wonderful, wonderful piece of work.

The Hitchhiker's Guide, by Douglas Adams, is a remarkable book. While it starts slowly, and meanders for a couple of chapters, right after that, it really lays it in, right after the world is destroyed. Imagine a book with the climax right at the beggining. This is followed by more plot twists than Dan Brown's collected writings, more unpredictable plot twists than the chap could possibly imagine. Most of the time, you aren't really aware this is a plot, but about 4 chapters before the end, things start to fall into place. Of course, in the last chapter of each book, things go remarkably wrong again, and you're back to not knowning whats going on. Thats the beauty of the whole thing if you're reading it for the first time.
I, however, haven't read it for the first time since I was 10.
So, what keeps me coming back to it? Well, the writing style, the pure atistry, and the philosophical absurdities disguised in the gags and punchlines. Besides, its a work of the most brilliant imagination of our time. Sample some of these lines, and ask yourself, could you EVER come up with any of these?

"What's so unpleasant about being drunk?", Asked Arthur.
"Go ask a glass of water", replied Ford.
Or the poetry,

Now I lay me down to bed
darkness won't engulf my head
I can see in infrared
Oh how I hate the night

Or even, the sheer brilliance of ideas. Take for example, the infinite improbably drive, or the total perspective vortex, or perhaps the most celebrated of them all, the Babelfish.
The remarkable thing is, instances that I've described above, they happen pretty much continuously during the book.
There are many people who will say he's not as good as wodehouse. Me says he's better. Far, far better. He's created a world of his own, while Wodehouse merely exxagerated a world that the aristrocracy of england lived in.

In short, READ IT! Watch the TV series. Listen to the radio show. Watch the movie coming out next year. And do it all over again, because there's a whelks chance in a a supernova that you won't love it.

What chance does a whelk have in a supernova?
None, that's the point.
But why a whelk?
Why not a whelk?

Winding down the road

Have you ever had one of those days when you feel like there's not much to say, so you gotta invent things to do? Well, I've had pretty much two or three of those days, and when you're reading about Douglas Adams in the meanwhile, your mind tends to wander, and get a lot more distracted than usual. Especially when you've spent three straight hours doing a practical file, which was hazaar incomplete. You find new, strange, and quite frankly stupid ideas to pass the time, and when you're me, this happens much to the discontent of some of my friends.

This is going to happen quite regularly now, with no competitions, and nothing to do but listen to music while studying for exams, and take protracted breaks to procrastinate about how much you're studying. I like words beginning with P.

The lastest fallout of my boredom is a protracted(I really like this word!) campaign to get Karan seduced.
Why? Well, it'll be fun. He's such an ickle shy type, it would be a wonderful experience for him. And god knows, wonderful things might result. For me, personally, it'll be great fun to watch, and all around, its a great project. Sure beats finding a quizmaster for quiz.
Unfortunately, I haven't been all to successful so for, so to help me out, can some of my female readers help me out? Or one of them, at least. I'll be ever so pleased.
I'm sorry about the clear heterosexual bias, but I'm sure Karan would want it this way.

My review/trubute of hitchhikers stands delayed to tomorrow, because I'm too tired and sleepy to find the words today.

Wish You Were Here

Thanks to Manav, I've just almost finished Douglas Adams' official biography, Wish You Were Here, by Nick Webb.
Its beautiful. I've never laughed out loud reading a biography, or an autobiography, but when the life concerned is that of Douglas Adams, how can you help it?
He was larger than life. Literally. At six foot five, and quite a few pounds, you have to be.
Now, I could spend pretty much the rest of my day rambling on about how much I love his work, so I won't, and instead just tell you why you should read the autobiography.

Its an insight, and a really good one, into the workings of one of the finest comedic minds of our era, and perhaps, in most eras. If any of you love writing, and most of you who blog do, it'll give you exactly how not to go about it. Adams was the biggest shirker of deadlines the writing world has ever seen. He himself quipped that he loved deadlines, he loved the sound they made when they whooshed by him.
It gives an insight into just how insecure anyone who loves writing is about their work, and why he, and so many of us, seek approval of our work, in the widest medium possible. If he'd been alive right now, I'm sure he'd have loved the idea of keeping a blog, so that 5 million people around the world could tell him how amazingly well written his last blog entry was.

And if you aren't a hitchhikers fan, read it just for the entertainment of anecdotes his life provides. Be warned, you will have the unnerving desire to read hitchhikers soon after.

Anyhow, its inspired me to give a book review for Hitchhikers, the whole series. I've read all of them upwards of 25 times since I was 10 years old, and each year found new and wonderful jokes and insights that I didn't understand earlier.
How can I not review this book? Its a part of my life, its a part of how I write, and how I would like to write. Its shaped my sense of humour.
Full review tomorrow, or day after. I must do this justice.

I've seen this before

Colored Lights!

I'm sure some of you have too. Hehe. This was the userfriendly cartoon on my birthday. Who'd have thunk it.

Happy Teachers day, and all that.

17!

Seventeen years ago, to this day, me came into this world, a healthy, okay, fine, quite obese, 4 kilo baby. Since then, I've distingushed myself with some of the greatest achievements that teenagers have ever accomplished, for instance, and 88 game winning streak in freecell, and, of course, writing down on a single A4 sheet, the entire lyrics to "ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall".
Oh, yeah, and I've done some regular stuff to, but who gives a damn about that.
Strangely enough, I have learned a few things along the way. As I have promised, I shall narrate the :::
17 great wisdoms of The Badshah of Blah!

1. You wan't something done right, don't ask anyone involved in any official position to help. It's a sure shot path to failure.
   
2. The Pick Up Line, Tch Tch, Rrrrrrrrrr..... works for all of two people on this planet. You're not one of them.
   
3. Everything you say, in every way, will come back to bite you in the ass. Most important lesson of them all.
   
4. There's nothing you can do about it, so just go ahead and say whatever the hell you like.
   
5. Girls are nuts. They're a lot smarter than guys, but they're still nuts.
   
6. Your mother is always right. Even if she's not, she'll prove to you that she is. Deal with it.
7. Fortunately, it's also always your mother's fault.
   
8. If it itches, scratch it.
   
9. Any effort you make to save and enjoy your chocolates will translate into someone else eating them all at one go.
   
10. Breakfast is very important.
    
11. Lunch is very important. It should be had at a nice place, in accordance with the views of Douglas Noel Adams.
    
12. Dinner is not as important, but you should sit down and have a nice talk while having it. That is very important. Also, under no circumstances should you recieve phone calls during dinner. Especially from upset, PMSee singers who just broke up with you.
    
13. Some of the best ideas you'll ever get, you'll get while walking and listening to music. Do all that you can to maximise the time you're walking, and listening to music.
    
14. I hate to say it, hey fine, I don't, but a little arrogance pays rich dividents. Especially in RKP.
    
15. The right kind of daddy pays even more.
    
16. I'll never enter politics, or journalism. You gotta keep a little integrity in this world, lets not lose it all.
    
17. I'm not all that I'm cracked up to be, but then, neither are you.

Don't take half of this seriously. Follow the other half religiously. I won't tell you which, though, so pick and choose, and see what happens.
Worst comes to worst, you'll turn into me. Hehe. And wouldn't that be a tragedy.
Happy Birthday to me! Didums.

Sasta!

Hey, a reminder to all of you to go read my story on the post below, even if you think its too long.

Secondly, before I forget to write this

Happy Budday, Beta Manau!

Yes, Manny turns 17 today. 17 years ago, he started a trend by coming two months early, into the world, that is, and its a legacy that he's never left behind.
But I kid. Hehe.
Anyhoo, I got to hear one of the most wonderful jokes I've heard in a long time, today, from Sud. Its probably a result of all his FIITJEE classes, but hey, this one was hilarious.
Non-science students, please go away, you're not going to get it.

Who does Scroedinger(he of the cat) pray to?
Ans. P(sai) Baba!

Wonderful, wonderful.

Today was also our big old teachers day celebrations. For some reason, our head girls and assorted sashy company decided to interrgogate teachers, by asking them intensely boring questions. So, I decided to have a little of my won fun, by interrogating the sashes, on stage, that is, but that got...aborted. I could only question Damini, and she's a bit sore about that. Ah, well such is life. Its my birthday tomorrow, and its illegal in 23 states to be upset with me.

Delhi's one of them, by the way.

Writer's Blog

Yeah, so I've written a short story after donkeys ages. Its the first draft, so rip it to shreds, why don't you. Its a product of my twisted sense of...humour? I don't think I'd call it that. Anyhow, see how you like it. Its also got a tribute to one of my favorite people, ever. Figure out whom, its pretty obvious.

Mindsmith

Art had come a long way in the twenty-first century; whereas earlier, artists had to use a medium to convey their emotions, or indeed, to provoke emotion amongst their patrons, today, that simply was not needed. The creativity of an artist earlier was annulled if he had not the talent to transfer that creative thought onto a medium, be it a canvas, an instrument, the written word, or even the great expanse offered by the Cinema. The twenty-first century offered all those creative minds, with no talent whatsoever to give art to the world, in its purest form possible. Sometime during the early 20’s came a brilliant new technology, which allowed people to directly experience another human’s emotions, thoughts, and ideas through a wonderful new technology called Mindstorm. Brain scanning technologies had been around for a long time, what Mindstorm had accomplished was interpretation. It allowed full access into the thoughts of whoever was plugged in, and thus allowed a completely new medium of expression: The Human Mind.

Earlier, art itself was restricted to directly stimulating a maximum of a couple of the human senses, be it visual, audio, or, tactile. Mindstorm allowed artists to express themselves in every single sense simultaneously, as long as they managed to conjure up the required thoughts. Thus, the newest, highest profile artist of all became the Mindsmith. A good Mindsmith had the ability to control his thoughts, his ideas to such an extent, that while conveying one single story, one idea, he could supply his audience with a complete sensory experience, stimulating all five senses in tandem, and thus going further than any artist before.

<>Now, this was an exceptionally tough art to master, because, while it required only creativity, it required a hell of a lot of it. Most people didn’t want to see staid, old images of knights in shining armor, or walks in the rain, or the taste of a pinacoloda. Originality had become a premium good, and the few Smiths who could pull it off consistently were some of the richest men on the planet. With the widespread usage of the internet, and the obvious computer connection of Mindstorm, it had become the most popular art form of the time, and the top artists had audiences that could extend into the billions.

Of these artists, the greatest was Noel Damas. He had realized one of life’s great truths that it is harder, and more rewarding to make man laugh, than to make him cry. Tearjerkers were easy in Mindstorm, but it took a true genius to create comedies, and to create an experience that left one with that warm fuzzy feeling inside. He was a man who loved nature, and drew heavily from the works of art present in his garden. His reputation for excellence had grown over the last ten years, and when he decided to publish a new Storm, pretty much the whole world logged on to check it out. They were brilliant, vividly imaginative, and a product of his permanently cheery, exuberant personality. Well, he had reason to be, he had pretty much the perfect life, in a very disturbed world.

He was materially well off, he was healthy, loved good food, had a bounty of friends, and of course, had the perfect relationship with his wife, and greatest source of strength.

Anyhow, back to the point. Noel had decided to broadcast after nearly half a year, and his webmasters had spent the last month publicizing the event. The world was primed for a great new Damas Mindstorm, and from the previews, it promised to be a humdinger. This was one of his great wild adventures, which seemed to end with no relation to where they started from, and yet had a twisted, roundabout way of saying how wonderful life was. This was just the thing people wanted, as people had just got a lot more upset over the last 30 years. Everyone blamed the Lawyers and Politicians, and quite frankly, they were right. It was their entire fault. But that’s another story.

The day before the broadcast, Trehan, Damas’ webmaster and best friend, got the news that Mrs. Damas had been hospitalized, following a car accident, and was currently in coma. Damas had locked himself in seclusion in preparation of his broadcast, and could not have been reached at that time. Trehan was instructed to inform Damas immediately the next day.

Trehan decided not to. There was too much at stake. The broadcast was going live to over two billion homes, and even though it was next to free, with only one dollar per view being charged, that was still a whole lot of money, which he was not willing to risk. He decided to tell Damas after he finished, ensuring that his mood wouldn’t get spoilt.

Did I mention that Trehan had a law degree? But let us not tarry with such matters, and get on with the story. The lure of money changes the best of us, and had blinded our webmaster for that moment. At any rate, he had rationalized that worrying about Mrs. Damas would get him nowhere, as she was in a coma, and unlikely to come out of it anytime soon.

Damas reappeared from his room later that day, after fully preparing himself. He was in a jovial, bouncy mood, and had the perfect story ready to share with the world. Flashing Trehan a million dollar smile, he entered the Mindstorm Machine, and began hooking himself up. At that moment, Trehan’s phone rang, with a grim voice at the other end informing him that Mrs. Damas had just passed away, due to severe head injuries suffered during the crash.

Looking across at Damas, who seemed to be like the only kid in a candy store, Trehan could bear it no longer. Just before they went live, Trehan broke the news to him.

Ten seconds later, they went live, and half the world cried.

Liked it? Hated it? I liked it.
Could do with a good few improvements, though.

Aww...Delay

Ah, today was a holiday that came for free, out of nowhere. It was the 400rth anniversary of the Guru Granth Sahib, and as one of our teachers wisely quoted, when the top job in Delhi is with a Sikh, that's pretty much definitely going to be a holiday.
Anyhow, I had to write a big boring debate, for a debate I'm really not interested in going, but such is life. I hate prepared speech, with no interjection, it takes all the fun out life.
So I did a lot of writing today. One boring debate speech, half of my short story, which is coming along very nicely, and, oh, I also had to make a presentation for papa. Busy day all around.
Hey, thanks to Arjun and Aranyaka, I found this great p2p software, called "ares", with no ads, no spyware, and no unnatural crashing of your computer. This has allowed me to download several songs I've wanted, but didn't have. These include Faith of the Heart, which is the "Enterprise" starting song. Its a really nice song, and I'd reccomend it to one and all.

Hey, Bhavya's Law is really going strong. It's even started to be quoted by my friends on instances, to prove points. Just goes to show how sound a statement it is.

Though Bhavya's second law for mathematics, as always, remains as Two Times of Componendo Dividendo gives you back what you started with.
I'm a genius.