FALL IN LOVE BEFORE YOU GET RICH…


The plans of falling in love have started blossoming all over again…
Previously, I had stalled all such planned stints to focus on my career…
Though ‘love’ always whets my appetite and I demand for more but such waters have always seemed choppy without wherewithal and I had finally settled down on targeting the bird’s eye after getting rich…
The desires had muffled and ‘love’ had almost fainted to illegible from my worksheet.
But, say a fluke or may be misfortune again made the airs redolent of such wishes…
The unbridled surge of emotions has again led me on esplanades that I had long forgotten…
…its not that I have met some nice dame and want to fall in love but it is that fear has met me and made me to trawl for a nice heart (of course with a nice face and sexy build) that loves me more than I do, in the crowd…
The unexpected catastrophe of ‘now that you are rich…let’s fall in love’ comes like a zephyr though strong enough to turn my perception by 180 degrees.
The last page that displays monetized emotions of a girl to get a rich guy really leaves me staggering.
The novel though not at par with ‘of course I love you…till I find someone better’ but is definitely a cut above the counterparts available in the market…
Not as such a must read but the writing skills of Durjoy and Manvi bind you throughout the story…
At moments it casts a magic spell over the reader.
The excerpts like the one about geeks falling in love and the other one about losing virginity leaves the reader lauding his writing skills.
The end that comes completely out of the box that transforms the novel from being a happy ending type to a sheer epitome of hypocrisy really deserves plaudit.
All in all he receives a good rating if only I were the reader…I can’t say about the others.
Somewhere in my heart, the ploy in which the story culminates leaves me with no option but to invite application forms from sexy good looking girls (essentially my type) for being my girlfriend…

Hurry up!!

Toilet paper
I was sold in some shop in India. I know that I am not ubiquitous in Indian households but someone, may be suffering from the dearth of water in his flat or may be not acquainted with the Indian ways of accomplishing the thing, purchased me. Now I am his washroom (may be latrine will better serve my purpose) essentials.
I am serving him in the way my relatives serve in other nation. He does all scruffy stuff with me but as I am on duty and so have to endure all aggravations silently. I have to keep up with the expectations associated to me.
I am obliged to fulfill the desires of my boss, his family, friends and friends of friends too who occasionally turn up at his place just in search of some bang and end up there after booze.
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I never wanted to be what I am but the anticipations of my family, my friends, who themselves are toilet papers nabbed me every time I tried to escape. I didn’t try hard either.
Actually I am living with a fixed code of conduct. I have to keep up to the expectation of every acquaintance.
Some want to see me like a good service personal…
Some want to see me happy whatever be the miss happenings I am subjected to…
Some want to flaunt me as if I am a shining star which belongs to them…
And I am expected to reciprocate in accord.
But nobody wants me to be me…
It has been a long-long night…and a couple of hours back it seemed eternal…
But may be, I have discovered myself…I have surfaced on a new horizon…here I am with myself…
Reflections have taught me suffice to know that all I need is I and all I long for is my star…
May be, I can be at least a stamp if not a dollar!!

Happiness comes with a paper umbrella…

It was five past twelve and I sat on my bed, trying her cell. The networks sometimes negated the existence of the number and the other times were unable to connect. I kept on trying and during all this while, I savored all possible lame excuses that an operator can ever serve.
I cursed my operator like hell and in parallel left no stone unturned in ramming both my head and my phone (I realized it today when I found a signs of spoil on it). Every time it failed to establish a nexus, I felt helpless like someone who has been condemned from serving the nature’s call.
At quarter past twelve, it finally connected.
A faint voice, a tad drowsy, a morsel groggy wished me hello from the other side.
Thwarting all pleasantries aside, I said, “Happy birthday!!”
For a while silence prevailed as if something unexpected had shaped up (I forget to wish her every time). Then she said, “So you didn’t forget it…”
I didn’t say anything…I was too engrossed in absorbing the verve of moment.
She then, in a meticulously posed voice, said, “Thank you!!”
And I said, “Anything for you, ma’am!!”
We then talked for a while and finally I hung up.
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This conversation was between me and the first lady I got smitten to…Even today I go gaga when I get to see her. She is my mum.
That short lived moment though took the least of the effort but may be, was the best birthday present I have ever gifted her with…Inexpensive but precious!!!
The swing of surprise in her voice…
The tinge of gaiety in her gesture…
And the spark of delight in her eyes…were all short lived but were worth billions though not for her (I am not sure) but for me (at least)…
It gave me the happiness; I was waiting for, for eons (at least the last fortnight which took an eon to pass)
And the moment registered in the top 50 moments of my life…
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The happiest moments are short lived. Though they are diminutive but they help us to sail through the nebulous austere waters of life when we keep waiting for a silver line in the blur of dismay.
So let’s grab all such silver lines and make a star of our own!!

Loopholes in ‘THE DRILL’



I have always feted the finesse of the bureaucrats and politicians at fixing managerial affairs. Their modus operandi in finagling, or I must say setting things right, has always received at least plaudit if not accolades. Their Midas touch that generates riches out of nowhere leaves me flabbergasted. Even the CBI, who the other times brag about their recent feats and ‘The Drill’ (their tough ways to nail the buggers), cannot disagree the claim. And if they do then the secret accounts at Swiss bank are suffice to shout aloud the saga.
I know that the black money thing is rife these days but I wasn’t dubious about its existence within the mortal realms.
But this one just leaves me open-mouthed. I am a denizen of a drought struck province wailing for more and more relief funds lately. The demand seems rational when the concern is such.
But I don’t discern how come a drought struck province receives so much rainfall once it has been granted funds??
Last couple of months I have heard too much yelling in the dearth of the downpours. The news papers were all inundated with scoops like
” man stabs neighbor in a row over drinking water”
Else
”Water bodies go dry…where THE RAINGODS are??”
The RAINGODS didn’t turn up with even any sop then and once all business is done up by bureaucracy, there is no respite. The rains come pelting down hard. Now the crops don’t suffer attributed to the mercy of the gods and the funds generated nestle snug in the personal caches of the incumbents.
The question I am trying to pose is, “Does the mortal and the immortal meet at some horizon??”
Who is the go-between when it comes to finagle with the Gods??
Whatever it is but this accentuates the ubiquitous corruption that has made every anthrop a vampire scouring for blood and now the angels and demons are allies.
At these obnoxious times, ‘THE DRILL’ penetrates not THE ANGELS but those minnow DEMONS who barely are the puppets in the hands of ANGELS.

Happy days…


The last couple of days, I was dying to succumb to my ultimate avocation…my love…writing!
But alas…dearth of a topic made all endeavours to strangle my craving…
Yet I am here…
Though I can’t flaunt the topic as a good one this time…
Last night I introspected hard about the topic…albeit I didn’t find a point to support the mention of the topic but did get a hunch of it earning me a morsel of elation.
And so I am here to scribble something which rang my bells…
If I am interrogated, “What, as per my psyche, could be an apropos gift for just a pace junior at my alma meter?”…One would surely twig a palpable dichotomy between my verdict a few days back and now.
Three days back, it would have been something suave, sedate…in other words, something from the book.
But now, it’s something which won’t appear even in the thickest tome on the subject.
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Before you surmise something nasty (especially carnal, blue), I will tell you what it is…
It’s LIVON…
Not to give her tresses a silky shine or a straight texture but to keep her hair damp for a longer while after bath…
She has been a junior for a consummate year but did never catch my notice so staunchly…
Three days back she strolled into the auditorium and so my notice…and claimed to be my fifth crush.
Though a half an hour later, all fantasies flushed away as her hair lost dampness…and she was again downgraded to again be an incumbent in the JAG (just another girl) department.
This story depicts how lasses maul my composure as a committed single…
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But that day I realized that asunder from my anticipation, she (my love) has greater prowess…
Her oomph has greater dimensions…
She might seem to have reached slumber but is still wide awake.
That day, though I was entangled in ogling my eye candy…but something made me twitchy…
Somewhere in my head her memories lurked…
Soon after, I was catapulted to the day I saw her afresh after the drizzle drenched her.
Sporting a yellow top and a navy blue Capri, she sauntered into the chemistry class.
She wasn’t wet but was damp…
It had just started to drizzle…
She looked miffed by the sudden outbreak of shower but I was gratified by the GOD’s grace.
The exasperated look tagged on to her ravishing beauty…
A few hair straggled on her forehead assured her appearance to be drop dead gorgeous…
Rain water had drained all her aped arrogance and now she replicated innocence…she replicated her…
Soon enough she gave her face a dab with a napkin…
Then followed something which left me dumb struck…
She giggled at me as if somewhere in her subconscious psyche she knew my ogling her...
She looked innocent…more delectable…and I were just left to awe…
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p.s. its dedicated to you my friend...i have never seen anyone so truly, madly and deeply in love...hope she can get lucky!!

...and she fell in love with me.



Seems like, booze has choked my psyche…or am I that dumb???
What genus of title I have inscribed…am I out of my wits???
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Believe me, I am not tipsy…rather I am a teetotal.
Actually, skimming the last few lines of my pal’s blog has catapulted me to the reminiscences of ‘July 2k8’…last year.
The catastrophe read,

“As my forelimb was fractured, I wasn’t able to clutch my bag properly. Holding it loosely, I sauntered out of the Health Center…a voice from the rare said,” May I help you.”I turned around just to discover a ravishing brunet giggling at me…I too greeted her with a grin. Then she came up to me and insisted to help me out of the mess I was in. Then she accompanied me to the canteen. Though she was unknown …but seemed to be family. While we strode together we talked of life…and then, she fell in love with me.”

Don’t you feel ill at ease to trust this???
Can a girl be besotted with a lad at the first encounter???
I too would have doubted the integrity of the statement if such an episode hadn’t betided with me.
It all cooked up on a Saturday morning in July 2008…
In the dearth of any edibles, I was making a beeline to the canteen. I was famished, enough to gobble just anything.
I saw a nubile, a sensual voluptuous dame with auburn hair, though a bit dusky, just a few paces away. She was rushing towards ‘my hostel’.
To your notice, ‘my hostel’ is an abode to a minimum of 400 boys…some drunks, some punks and others GMAT.
‘A girl going to a boy’s hostel’…I sensed the Pandora’s Box.
I panicked and blurted out, “where are you going?”
All my appetite had now sunk and I waited voraciously for her answer…
In a mellow voice, posed a bit meticulously, she said,” I got to meet my friend who stays in this hostel, I have come from Kolkata.”
“Don’t you twig that girls aren’t permitted in a boy’s hostel?”
She said,” But I don’t have any other option, I lost my phone in the wagon.”
“Tell me his name and branch and I will scout him out for you!”
“It’s so nice of you…???...may I know your name please?”
“Definitely…its Malik…you tell me his name and ease at canteen…I’ll send him to you.”
She acquainted me with the info…
I said, “By the way…what should I tell him??Who has popped up to meet him??”
In a very mellifluous syrupy voice she said, “Avantika”
I trudged back to the hostel only to learn that he did retreat back home a day before.
I insipidly commuted to the canteen, the second time that day. I surmised that the boy might be his paramour. But how can a beau avoid telling his lady-love about his jaunt??
I reached the canteen…she sat there gulping large slugs of a soft drink. I waved her hi and made the most brazen statement of the day as I was just too weary, I said, “Actually he’s out of the town.”
Now, I could sense globs of tears streaming down her cheeks. I could not help myself from appeasing her. I offered her chocolates, confectionary and then finally a hand of friendship. The last one though ceased her tears.
She sat narrating her story. The biggest stun of the day was that he wasn’t her beau. Then why did she come down so far??(Was she crazy??)
We talked about life…love…friendship and not to mention, her train which was scheduled may be 3 hours from then.
May be after a long hour of our tete-e-tete…we decided to leave the place. I forked out bucks to pay the bill. Then I realized that she eats a lot 
She exhorted that we go to some good place. It was drizzling though; I carried out the diktat in order to break through the impasse...
In all this while, she embraced my hand many times that I became immune to the feel of a girl’s touch.
We sat on a bench juxtaposed to the strand of a lake. The expressions of her face had changed and now she looked unruffled.
The drizzle doused both of us a bit, but she now looked more delectable. Hair straggled on her face made her look salacious. I was now quite accustomed to her impertinent ways of talking. She was a bit finicky but I had started liking her a bit. Maybe I was smitten by her beauty. Though I never felt anything emotional for her but she definitely earned plaudit from my ‘boyish’ aesthetic sense. She sometimes sounded to be crazy.
Now it had started to downpour and I scoured for a refuge for us. But there was none.
But she seemed to be cherishing the ‘drench game’. I cajoled her to get to some concealed place but she rebuffed.
I turned around and started to move. She clasped my hand…this time it didn’t seem the same as before. I turned towards her and noticed that she was crying. She broke into my arms and whispered, “I love you.”
A gamut of expressions busted out on my face…
For a while I was catapulted to stupor. I surmised that it was sham.
But it was true…she really said that.
Now the Spartans in my head went on a battle to decide my fate.
The ‘Devil’ somewhere prodded to accept the proposition keeping in view her carnal appeal and a perk to consummate at a later stage.
It even nudged me to get a Johnny ;-)
The counterpart enthused that may be she was out of her wits as she was depressed and all she said was just too whimsical.
As I have not grown out of the ‘Hindu mythological sanskars’…though I was game for a while, but I finally agreed to go with the later.
It was time for the train, so I escorted her to the railway station. I didn’t say anything. We talked through eyes. May be she too understood that she made a faux pas. She left.
Sometimes her long forgotten memory lurks in my mind.
I just want to discover if she is in asylum or she wasn’t mad even then.
I just hope her being well…somewhere…somehow.

...and i had to sling my hook


Clapped in irons, I nestled on the bed of my penitentiary, reading a novel…the last few lines read,” life and death are sisters. Quietus is not the end; it’s just the matrix of another existence.” Not a chunk of fright on my countenance. I am not dreaded, even when breathing the airs that smell my eternal rest. Someone strides into the scene…
Someone strange...
Someone donned in a police uniform...
Someone who would usher me to the gallows...
Someone who says,” It’s time!”
And I gaze at him, smirking.
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The next moment, I broke out of my sleep. Still groggy, I looked into the clock. It read 15 past 2 am.
At seven, I had to board my train, a train to my karmabhumi, a train to realization of my nightmare.
In this drowsy stupor, I sauntered to my parent’s bedroom. I gazed into their faces. They radiated silence…rest…
Then, I trudged to the terrace with a bottle of chilled water that I had grabbed out of the somberly luminous fridge.
It was raining. Glinting globs of water drizzled down, dousing me, trickling down my face, wetting my hair.
I looked down the boulevard, deserted, with just a road side pup who hollered as if trying to hail some guardian.
I never did love my parents, but today they mattered me the most, their doting caress was all I cried out for…just as the pup did.
The street never looked as delectable as it looked today…
I stepped back, drenched, but this downpour didn’t flush away the surging sentiments.
It was almost 4am…just a few hours left for my train.
The feeling was grotesque, but I couldn’t help it…
I wanted to stay…I love them.
But…sometimes in life you don’t have to choose…
I had to leave…
Love sometimes weakens us but is the biggest strength.
May be…the fear to lose, makes us realize how important something is to us...
To accomplish a dream, we have to abandon something…
May be, it was the advent of a new voyage…
Now I realize the gist of my nightmare…
Now I understand the reason behind the smirk…
‘Quietus is not the end; it is the matrix of another existence.’

Alive…I am…

Last few days down the line have been quite a humdrum life.

My clime…my people…my home…every bit today is a nuance of yesterday. But the diurnal living has always been the same…that’s why they call it ‘routine’.

But ‘the humdrum thing’ has loosened up a tad. Now, it’s no longer a peril.

Rewinding the memory cassette by a month is sufficed to get me goose bumps and to douse my temples with the blobs of sweat rolling down.

Speculate what ‘the humdrum thing’ was…

It was a life, no cut above that of a railway TTE.

If not the fling is to be alleged, may be the catastrophe should bear all the blotches.

It tees-off there, when I was gearing up to get to my training place.

“Got to know something…the place is a honeymoon spot”, we morons gabbed akin things.

Next few days were ‘railgadi-railgadi’ type.

Don’t worry…I will elucidate the ‘railgadi…’term. It is a spell when you are either at some unkempt railway station or a head among the disheveled commuters.

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Next few days were ‘railgadi-railgadi’ type.

Have I aped the previous statement???

Heaven’s sake!

How can I do that?

…may be you are not sure of my wits, but I earnestly believe that I have a working model of what they call ‘brain’. Asunder, reciting the same line oft-times like ‘INDIA TV’ is not my cup of tea. Albeit, I am oblivion of my possessing ‘THE GAJANI thing’ which could make me forget what waters I was splashing. But for now, I assure you of no such blunder.

Does it imprint you with the same question as it engraves somewhere in my head??

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Where does the training interlude escape if it is back-to-back ‘railgadi…’?

Actually, the day we landed at the training place, the day training was wrapped up. They were so generous that they kicked our asses the same day promising to dole out the certificates with just a week of effort at the end.

We were gleeful. Life had never been such a hunky dory before. All that was coveted was accomplished in a jiffy.

But was it the time to binge???

With Indian railways unfailingly inundated with passengers, you can’t even fantasize getting a reservation just a day before.

It wasn’t stupendous to know that neither the place had a railway station nor had any cyber cafes.

So, what next??

For the next two hours, I was busy banging my dad’s head to get me some ticket, somehow, some nexus.

Phones kept buzzing…

Finally he got a connection.

Job was half doneJ

Wait…

It was really half doneL

Ticket was just up to half way (12 hours) and then (next 12 hours) I had to see how to come. On foot, not permitted!

The second phase…being the ‘next 12 hours’ one is what that makes me so white.

I snapped up a general ticket as the very first step towards aggravations.

I lugged on the general wagon stepping a pace closer to quietus.

All my foolhardiness was now up and all that happened had no part played by me.

1^st scene:

I, standing at the door and my stance suggesting as if I am to be clicked for ‘wills lifestyle’.

It’s really open and airy out there. But it isn’t some legacy that you could cherish all time. The Darwin’s ‘survival of the fittest’ theory applies here too. A few pushes and you are rammed among the heads hustling inside, the heads of hunks, drunks, punks and the women who holler hard enough to be heard in the whole wagon. Not to mention, the same I was subjected to.

But I never expected that I could e such a ‘kamjhor kadi’.

A few shoves and I was in the toilet sated on the wash-basin that too shared with a punk.

To uber exasperation, some man used the toilet to pee saying ‘don’t be so timid, I do have the same as yours’.

But to some relief, the punk had knocked the window off, so it was airy now.

I am sated of these rail journeys now…

But, you know what the best part is…I AM ALIVE! THAT TOO IN ONE PIECE!

Rendezvous…

1^st Jan, 2008:

It was a late hour, at least when the concern is to pay a visit to someone; I strolled through the dismal avenue lighted by a few flickering sodium lamps and abutted by all somberly luminous akin dwellings. Street looked deserted as all man were cooped up in their houses. Sky radiated murk, clear and dark. Just a few paces away stood my Baba’s abode, a tad unkempt, sited just besides the street lamp. His nameplate glistened golden in the pale, sullen beams of the streetlamp.

The door lay ajar. I got in.

Baba was glued with the TV set and so was my granny.

I was here to bid him adieu before I left for my karmabhumi the very next morning, even before dawn but I was oblivion of it being the last one.

I greeted him and he too received me gaily.

They had had their dinner and didn’t take pains of asking me for anything. I sauntered to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water out and walked back to them.

I told them that I am leaving the next morning. I was not cheerful. I longed to stay back at home for a few more days. He too wasn’t delighted.

We gabbed for quite some time and then I insisted on retreating back home. I sounded glum.

I was standing at the threshold when he said,” it’s no matter, lad; we’ll meet again when the next time you come. I promise you that.”

I beamed and said,” we definitely will. What’s the need to swear?”

He didn’t verbalize anything then and I could not read what was there in his head. He just stared at me sporting a grin for a while and then I left the place.

2^nd Jan, 2008:

It was just past 3AM when I rushed out of my house to board the train at 4AM. My dad chauffeured me to the station and came up to the platform to wave me good-bye. The train was already there. My heart pounded like it had never before. A grotesque sentiment haunted me. But I shrugged it off and strode towards the wagon; I had my berth booked in. soon, I dozed off.

It was close to 12 noon when I got up. I was a tad groggy when someone fed me the scoop that the train had been stuck up at the same place for around two hours. The reason being the derailment of the train our train was trailing behind.

This misfortune culminated in the cancellation of most trains on the route. As an expression of solace for the aggravation we were subjected to, our train wasn’t cancelled but its route was revised. As an upshot of all these dramatically posed events, a journey which should have wound up in 22 hours miffed us for 38 long hours.

Through all this while, I was oblivion of the excruciating loss our family was subjected to. My Baba suffered brain hammer age the very same morning. He was in coma now.

When I disembarked at my place, I was reported of it through a phone call, my mother made to me. This was followed by some utterance which I heard nonchalantly, or maybe I was too nauseated to understand anything. I got Goosebumps. But being a man, I didn’t burst into tears. I looked composed. My chore life took over all the pains and I just was too hopeful of his fighting back in a matter of days.

It was 9^th Jan when my father buzzed me up to inform the sad demise of my Baba.

Now, I was white…

…it has been a year and a half now; everyone has well acquainted himself to live without him. But the blues still strike back some times.

Sometimes I question myself,

Was, the promise that he made to me, a serious one?

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Was he dead the very moment he was struck...and was living merely to keep the promise?

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Was he calling me?

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A few questions always remain unanswered…

But two things are clear now,

1} He is dead now. And,

2} I am not going to hear him again.

Not again…

‘Damn…how long will I live this way?

No…I have to wipe off every impression that she has casted on me…

Ok…

I’ll abandon all sorts of encounters with her…

I’ll all the more cease visiting her orkut profile…

And in a matter of days, she will be flushed off my life’

…This is me, intriguing with none other than me hardly any days back when I was at my karmabhumi.

Albeit I didn’t miss to get a spanking peek at her orkut profile every time I logged in, but snapped all strands that could ever link me up with her.

A few days back, I was catapulted back to my hometown…her hometown.

I was damn earnest for all the plots I did spend nights nurturing.

But oblivious of my vows to ‘I’, my family planned a fling to her karmabhumi…

At this very word, I was dreaded by the willies of reliving what I had somehow managed to wipe off in all these days…

Hit by these heebie-jeebies, I opted for the ‘not going’ option.

But through all these days, somewhere in my heart an emotion wailed,” don’t strangulate me…I am love…I am immortal…I won’t perish but it will cause you pain. “

In this while, I too caught on the fact that even smudging her image in the head required uber-muscle.

Forgetting her was neither my cup of tea nor I could ever accomplish…so I finally, gleefully succumbed.

To follow was the fling to the clime where my heart is hooked…the place I had decided not to get back.

To sheer despondency, in all these days, she had changed her abode and not to mention, the no. too.

Soooooooooooop…

I was in her city, but what a pity that I had no contact in my kitty.

Disheartened I was…lost…helpless…

But I followed the mantra…’chuckle profusely because most goons don’t know that it’s the macho way to cry’

Then I met a few of my pals of very juvenile times, the ones I studied around seven years back and hadn’t met in all this time.

The airs went gung-ho with all intended pun sort quipping, jesting… n everything!

We huddled at the highest terrace of the multi-storied building and looked down at the city…sneakily peeked into all the balconies within reach…

We danced… we sang…we rode through the streets…we thronged at every possible destination…including her college.

And the reason was…the boyish one, leering at maximum scores of pretty faces. ;-)

Was it all???

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.

.

.

No…the way I stared scores all through the city was a bit different from the way it is usually done. (As one of my friends remarked, was evident from my countenance)

It was not ogling but a wild search for her…

A search for my heart which I lost to her…

A search which seems inevitable…and,

A search which is unquenched…

Committed single...

…and it started four years back.

I was 16…not stale enough to get entangled into all this. But god had some goddamn plans for me.

I agree that no one in this ‘big daddy’s land’ escapes the cupid’s shot but it I never thought of being sniped so early.

On some blessed day I unribboned the most ravishing gift of heavens…

Yes, it was love…true love…

Yes, it was her…

At the first encounter, I realized that my scour is over. She is the one I have waited all my life.

Yes, she is the one.

For the first time reality seemed more exquisite than fantasy.

Her pretty face flickered with every flick of my eyes; her mellifluous voice rang all my bells, her very thought held my breath as it does even today.

But I was a kid then…

I spurned the gift considering it to be a crush…

I didn’t try to woo her…I didn’t express what I felt for her…I was smug getting her glimpse every day, getting to hear her diurnally, I didn’t perceive her significance then…

The day I met her at the IIT-JEE centre, I realized that she won’t be a part of my chores now…the day I cried for the first time…the day I twigged that I love her…

The schedules were very busy then with many exams on the trot. To follow were the upshots of all the messes I did in the exams.

Through all these days I missed her a lot and somehow conjured up the courage to express what I felt for her…

I planned to tell her once I get through IIT.

But as I wrote in the very first line…god’s plan for me was ‘goddamn’

I was literally mowed down by the fact of her having committed to someone else just a few days back...

In the next scene, I saw myself in murk…lying headlong on a bed doused in the torrent of my tears.

Everything seemed dismal, somber…

Tears continuously oozed out of my eyes…

For the first time I sensed the pangs of the cupid’s arrow…

But, time being the biggest teacher, taught me that I should be happy because she is…because love is not about gaining but is about losing yourself in the happiness of the counterpart…

It has been four years now…but there is something which still prods me whenever I edit my orkut profile…

…there is something which still makes me wonder why they don’t have a ‘committed single’ relationship status option…

…those two months…

…this episode started when after two long years of toil it was the time for the upshot.

As I had been preparing for the hell of the most difficult technical exams, IIT-JEE, so everyone in my kin was eyed up at me, may be searching for a chance to fire jibes targeting me and my parents.

Not to mention, I had been a nerd all through my school life so my family had lofty expectations.

So finally came 30^st may,2007…the day history was rewritten…the day all laxity that I showed in preparing for the exam was to be graded…the day the result was out…

  It was 8am and I switched on my pc…double clicked internet explorer icon on the desktop (in those days I knew about no other browsers)…

With quivering hands I lettered…www.iitb.ac.in

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Then it was a blank until the result page came into sight…

I was kind a fainted and even when I got back to senses I was groggy…the page appeared smudged…

  I read the first line…it read something like ‘you are eligible for the counseling at IITB’

My heart was pounding…and I leaped dancing…

I was dumbstruck…gleefully I read it further …

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All elation was flushed away in a jiffy…

I was feeling suicidal…blue…melancholic.

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Hours passed but gloom didn’t.

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Days passed but gloom didn’t.

My parents appreciated me for getting though in the very first attempt.

Albeit I saved myself and m parents from being the butt of the jokes but couldn’t crack a good career.

This is when I realized that I stood disheveled for the last two years…I dint even bathe regularly…I dint even leered the girl I had a crush on…I dint even try to woo the girl I fantasize even today(I feel like loving her) …all for being trashed to such a poor rank.

I really worked hard…I can’t even dream of slogging that much now.

But they say…it’s the result that speaks.

So I succumbed.

Everybody said that I had a good rank in AIEEE, so there was nothing much to worry of.

Days passed by and I slowly but surely accepted the verity.

Soon it came the time for counseling. The destination was the one I always fantasized…the one I craved to sport in my spirits…IITB.

It was day3…for all those who mucked up the paper and fucked up the result, fatefully or fact fully.

The day started with the inimical lecture of the JEE chair…which at that time sounded astonishing.

Followed was the counseling…

I filled all possible choices as if I was oblivion of my rank and was expecting rank1.

It was high time standing in the line just for the sake of getting a seat in the college I never even wished to read the name off…the college I am presently in…ISM.

This is how your fate drives you to your destiny…

I had profuse other options…but I landed in something I never dreamt of. (May be…had such a nightmareJ)

I could have got DCE as per my AIEEE rank…a swanky life at Delhi with plentiful girls to ogle at(can’t help…I was a kid thenL) but dint give two hoots to it…simply because of ego problem that I have qualified JEE so I looked down at students of such colleges as dimwits.

But today I feel elated at my decision of coming to ISM (because we only are still getting jobsJ)

Stupendously, I have learnt to say ‘all that matters is those 6 hours…those you spend scribbling your OMR sheet’.

Discover yourself…

Leaving just a scintilla from the masses I have encountered…or I do in diurnal living can’t even answer the very rudimentary interrogation about their own lives…

The very basic question ‘who am I?’ remains unanswered in most cases.

Before we can accomplish our destination we need to be able to answer this not to others but to ourselves.

Before knowing others, we need to know our being.

Who am I?   …it’s simple…I am what my heart says I am.

It is said that the word of your heart is the divine word.

So, heart and ‘you’ are imprecisely synonymous.

 If you walk down the boulevard of your intricate self… reasoning…your mind…

You will arrive at a penitentiary…cordoned off from the ambiance, not allowing a single ray of light.

Here lies your heart…clutched…captured…fainted…

The aristocrat…the pharaoh of this reign is you own mind…

Ask for the heavenly word, he will say that if destinations were reached rightly, then your mind must have been the councilor to the czar, heart.

Each one of us has his own destination to achieve…his own dreams to accomplish…own promises to keep…

But can they be achieved working as a vassal…the answer is no.

You have been in ‘the daddy’s show’ for long…now it’s time…

Someone is waiting for you to come…to unfetter him and let him free in the sky…

It’s no other then your heart…more exactly ‘you’.

Go…get yourself out of the dilemma before you are left with no other option but to rue for the rest of your being…

You know what…there are just a few who actually succeed in reaching the pinnacle…these are those who DISCOVER THEMSELVES!