A new beginning. A new life. Will I settle? Will I be able to cope up? Will I pass? Won't I?
“..Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side..”
The embers glowed magnificently. The lawn on that side of the fence seemed greener than ever. “Go back!” shouted some seemingly omniscient voice. There was shelter, there was everything a man would need on the other side. Go back. Go back. Continued the chants..
“..At a higher altitude with flag unfurled
We reached the dizzy heights of that dreamed up world..”
There I was, where one and all wanted to be. Far from the embers, far far ahead. Everything that had occured seemed suddenly so pleasant, so inviting. A feeling of rushing back and embracing all that had passed. Nostalgia. A vision so foggy..
“..Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon ..”
Everything beyond seemed to be a mirage. A lake in a desert. An island in an ocean. A daunting challenge, yet something which could not be left, something which we had to take on. Weary-eyed, and some teary-eyed, we viewed the deep red horizon with a feeling lingering somewhere on the fine line which divides fear and anticipation..
“..Encumbered forever by desire and ambition ..”
There was no going back. Gasps of breath brought life, sips of water brought energy, beatings of the heart brought will, He above brought courage.
And then I saw..
“..The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river..”
Thus with these thoughts in mind, I start living the four next years of my life. Looking for highs, prepared for lows. Aiming for victory, not ready for defeat. The grass is greener, and softer. The world is whirring, and I'm dizzying.. I can't see what lies ahead, nor what is behind.. The cone of light shows me what today is, what today means.. The coming years are a river pulling me with itself.. We hold on to each other tightly as the current takes us forward..
“.. Forever and ever..”
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Big Bong Theory
Well, a bad Reso test, unending lectures, Sem exams, and a bored person. You would normally expect a normal person to be depressed, tired, suicidal but I came up with something rather innovative.
I decided to be a misanthrope and become immortal, like the likes of John Keats, Wordsworth and a few others worth their words. I decided to write a piece which I hope will someday be used as a tool by a sadistic and grim English teacher to torture the miscreants of her class. :D
So here it goes. This topic is rather close to my heart, in fact very close to my heart. I´ve never spoken about this to anyone in the fear of being beaten up or badly bruised. I somehow gathered some courage today to dedicate one to this extraordinary (or extra ordinary, as you fancy it) group of people. :D
Disclaimer:
There is no sort of malice intended in this article, nor any ridicule of social customs, just a light hearted humor of some of the most intriguing people on earth. :)
Caution:
1)If your a Bong with a grumpy sense of humour, please stay away.
2)Follow the first one for my well being. :P
I would define a Bong as any person with marshmallow-like eyes and even bigger specs. But this definition seems rather shallow, and doesn´t take into account those chinky eyed babes in town, so I modified it. Let us call a person a Bong if he does any of the below..
His surname is either very short or very long. Mr. Dey, Mr. Pal (suave and gentle to the ears) and Mr. Chattopadhyay, Miss Bannerjee.(not similarly suave to the tongue).
If he thinks his daughter should be married to an engineer who works for a bank.
If he is the reason for the price hike in oil in India. (Don´t mind please :P )
If he has a photo frame of Jyoti Basu in his bedroom.
If he thinks Mamata Banerjee is a PERFECT railway minister.
He travels by train to prove the above proposition.
He´d rather commit suicide than spend a Sunday without fish.
His eyes are large as potatoes or small like those of the fish he eats.
He tells you rather gleefully that Chatterjee is the short form of Chattopadhyay.
If he has the capability to turn Bhargav into Vorgab and Bharati into Bhodoti.
He can´t live without sweets, and his shape and size betrays this fact.
He can make a Vada Pav turn big by calling it Bada Pav. :|
He has atleast a thousand family friends.
He knows each of their names alongwith degrees, hobbies, marks et al perfectly well.
The person can ruin the best of names by changing them into food items. Sharva into Shorba, Sharma into Shawarma.
Size of the bindi= constant * Size of the ear, where constant =1.
After amusing you with the Chaterjee-Chattopahyay thing, he also insists Bhattacharya is the short form of Bhattacharjee.
When you need the storage space of two contacts to store one name.
When he appreciates Shongeet.
Robindro Shongeet. (which I may add, I love :) )
When he exaggerates a simple dew drop as JoloBindo.
.
.
.
And after coming to the end of it, I realize this is going nowhere outside my Facebook notes and blog, and any English teacher will cringe at the sight of anything like this. So this better not be read by Mrs. Basu, Mrs. Kar, or Mrs. Mukherjee and I better get back to loving physics than doing a thesis on a race which amuses and puzzles me both to the same extent. So Bong brothers and sisters, and others too :P , I´ll get back at you some time later, till then LOBE YOU ALL! :D
I decided to be a misanthrope and become immortal, like the likes of John Keats, Wordsworth and a few others worth their words. I decided to write a piece which I hope will someday be used as a tool by a sadistic and grim English teacher to torture the miscreants of her class. :D
So here it goes. This topic is rather close to my heart, in fact very close to my heart. I´ve never spoken about this to anyone in the fear of being beaten up or badly bruised. I somehow gathered some courage today to dedicate one to this extraordinary (or extra ordinary, as you fancy it) group of people. :D
Disclaimer:
There is no sort of malice intended in this article, nor any ridicule of social customs, just a light hearted humor of some of the most intriguing people on earth. :)
Caution:
1)If your a Bong with a grumpy sense of humour, please stay away.
2)Follow the first one for my well being. :P
I would define a Bong as any person with marshmallow-like eyes and even bigger specs. But this definition seems rather shallow, and doesn´t take into account those chinky eyed babes in town, so I modified it. Let us call a person a Bong if he does any of the below..
His surname is either very short or very long. Mr. Dey, Mr. Pal (suave and gentle to the ears) and Mr. Chattopadhyay, Miss Bannerjee.(not similarly suave to the tongue).
If he thinks his daughter should be married to an engineer who works for a bank.
If he is the reason for the price hike in oil in India. (Don´t mind please :P )
If he has a photo frame of Jyoti Basu in his bedroom.
If he thinks Mamata Banerjee is a PERFECT railway minister.
He travels by train to prove the above proposition.
He´d rather commit suicide than spend a Sunday without fish.
His eyes are large as potatoes or small like those of the fish he eats.
He tells you rather gleefully that Chatterjee is the short form of Chattopadhyay.
If he has the capability to turn Bhargav into Vorgab and Bharati into Bhodoti.
He can´t live without sweets, and his shape and size betrays this fact.
He can make a Vada Pav turn big by calling it Bada Pav. :|
He has atleast a thousand family friends.
He knows each of their names alongwith degrees, hobbies, marks et al perfectly well.
The person can ruin the best of names by changing them into food items. Sharva into Shorba, Sharma into Shawarma.
Size of the bindi= constant * Size of the ear, where constant =1.
After amusing you with the Chaterjee-Chattopahyay thing, he also insists Bhattacharya is the short form of Bhattacharjee.
When you need the storage space of two contacts to store one name.
When he appreciates Shongeet.
Robindro Shongeet. (which I may add, I love :) )
When he exaggerates a simple dew drop as JoloBindo.
.
.
.
And after coming to the end of it, I realize this is going nowhere outside my Facebook notes and blog, and any English teacher will cringe at the sight of anything like this. So this better not be read by Mrs. Basu, Mrs. Kar, or Mrs. Mukherjee and I better get back to loving physics than doing a thesis on a race which amuses and puzzles me both to the same extent. So Bong brothers and sisters, and others too :P , I´ll get back at you some time later, till then LOBE YOU ALL! :D
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Change and Perceptions.
Hope, is the oil of the machinery of your life, they say. Well, I agree rather gleefully. I am the biggest optimist you'll ever find, and believe me on this one. But right now, the point is not just me. It's about us. It's about me trying to be a visionary i was never meant to be. This note is rather random. Or maybe even more random than you imagined it to be. Use it to define entropy. I, in a shocking change of events, am rather confused, awed and troubled.
Life is a race, run till you find the end. Run till your last breath, and fall into the pit. Is it what all this is really about?! Is this why we work our arses off all day long, all night long?! Is this in a hope of a better tomorrow which only promises a better day after?! Well, i'd rather say these are unanswered rhetorics than anything else.
Friendship, love, hope, et al. Choke these up. Won't help you with your JEE, with your SAT. Be the ruthless bandit. Try and succeed. Try and run away from the grapples of life. Run till you enter the jaws of death. Anger, hate, despise, et al. Nurture them. Use them as fuel for this machine made to succeed at all odds. Be a criminal, but be at the echelon of success, at the pinnacle of glory. Is this all that it's come down to?!
“A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. ...” says a certain philanthropist. I am standing. I am staring. I try to picture it all in a positive light. I see my life progress with as much drama as there is in any other deserted gas pump. I am still. The whole effing problem is that I am JUST still. It just compounds the misery, adds to the desolation and boosts up the rage.
Bruce shouts,
“ And as you look all around at the world in dismay
What do you see, do you think we have learned
Not if you're taking a look at the war-torn affray
Out in the streets where the babies are burned ”
Yes boy, I want to be in the streets, mend them, heel them. I want to make this modern world a miracle. I want to change the money-snakes into diamonds for the poor. I want to do something out there! But wait, well, should i go?! The answer is staring right in my face, like the barrel of a .45 pistol which De Niro uses to slay the evil in Righteous Kill. NO.
I am not being a pessimist, or a misanthrope. I am being a hopeful, trying to fill some colour in my life along with a dream to do so for the millions out there on the streets. :) Pardon me Lord, if my vision is wrong. Pardon me everyone else who so much love me, if I believe that the world can be changed for the better, for good. Defy the world, defy rationality. Live life by your rules< the new motto. Stop being a coward, start being a hero! Let go of any mischance, take hold of even the smallest glitter of sunshine. There seems nothing more meaningful than what Steve Earle has to say,
“Someday I'm finally gonna let go
'Cause I know there's a better way
And I wanna know what's over that rainbow
I'm gonna get out of here someday”
Be a hero. Live your life. :)
Life is a race, run till you find the end. Run till your last breath, and fall into the pit. Is it what all this is really about?! Is this why we work our arses off all day long, all night long?! Is this in a hope of a better tomorrow which only promises a better day after?! Well, i'd rather say these are unanswered rhetorics than anything else.
Friendship, love, hope, et al. Choke these up. Won't help you with your JEE, with your SAT. Be the ruthless bandit. Try and succeed. Try and run away from the grapples of life. Run till you enter the jaws of death. Anger, hate, despise, et al. Nurture them. Use them as fuel for this machine made to succeed at all odds. Be a criminal, but be at the echelon of success, at the pinnacle of glory. Is this all that it's come down to?!
“A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. ...” says a certain philanthropist. I am standing. I am staring. I try to picture it all in a positive light. I see my life progress with as much drama as there is in any other deserted gas pump. I am still. The whole effing problem is that I am JUST still. It just compounds the misery, adds to the desolation and boosts up the rage.
Bruce shouts,
“ And as you look all around at the world in dismay
What do you see, do you think we have learned
Not if you're taking a look at the war-torn affray
Out in the streets where the babies are burned ”
Yes boy, I want to be in the streets, mend them, heel them. I want to make this modern world a miracle. I want to change the money-snakes into diamonds for the poor. I want to do something out there! But wait, well, should i go?! The answer is staring right in my face, like the barrel of a .45 pistol which De Niro uses to slay the evil in Righteous Kill. NO.
I am not being a pessimist, or a misanthrope. I am being a hopeful, trying to fill some colour in my life along with a dream to do so for the millions out there on the streets. :) Pardon me Lord, if my vision is wrong. Pardon me everyone else who so much love me, if I believe that the world can be changed for the better, for good. Defy the world, defy rationality. Live life by your rules< the new motto. Stop being a coward, start being a hero! Let go of any mischance, take hold of even the smallest glitter of sunshine. There seems nothing more meaningful than what Steve Earle has to say,
“Someday I'm finally gonna let go
'Cause I know there's a better way
And I wanna know what's over that rainbow
I'm gonna get out of here someday”
Be a hero. Live your life. :)
Confirmed Guilty.
While everyone's out there celebrating the fact that Ajmal Kasab, the quite infamously famous man from our Pure Neighbor-land gets a death penalty, I've got some lamenting to do.
A Person, some Tom-Dick-Harry, comes to your house, kills your loved ones, takes away everything you ever had, and everything you will ever have, and walks away. What do you do? You watch in anguish, with your hands on your eyes, or you go and fight back?
“There was no option but death”, says the Honourable Judge. Period. I am no one to debate the rightness of the decision, but each and everyone of us has the right to question the rationality of the Law. Justice, they say, has been delivered. Where?! To whom!? To the girl who lost her leg? The boy who lost his parents? The parents who lost their son? The husband who lost his wife? The foreigner who earned crutches to walk on her entire life? The hundreds of us who lost our safety? The millions of us who lost our courage to fight back?
Well, I suggest an option, which i know will go nowhere beyond this note. Mutilate him. Crush him to death. Hack him to pieces. Feed him to hungry crocodiles. Let loose Black Mambas on him. Let him play the matador in the wildest bullfight. Throw him into the mob full of people who lost someone or something in the attack.
My friend tells me, well, who are we to take a life? What is the difference between them and us? Are we supposed to uphold the same life-taking values as they do? Are we also terrorists to take lives?
I used to think so till about two days back. And then, I read about this girl who lost her parents and her legs in the attack. Then, I think, wait a sec dood, if we let this carry on, maybe you are the next victim, or maybe I. Who knows.
With no offence meant, we Indians cannot act. We just cannot. Be it the so called rational restraints of society or the misplaced sense of conscience which we possess, but we cannot do something to prevent what is going to happen. Mr Shah makes a valid point in A Wednesday, “ We get used to things too fast”. We have the “chalta hai” attitude, which does not do good to fend off terror.
Well, we may not act, but we do have one simple option. Give the guy a bad death. The one he deserves. Let him die in a way so scary that no one else will ever dare to intrude our territory. My will to do something to stop these bastards is more than ever, and I will do as much as I can in the near future.
Lastly, supporting my friend's point, I may like to add something. An eye for an eye will make the world blind. So be it. Let us have an two eyes for an eye, a jaw for a tooth. I'd rather be blind than have myself butchered by these “messsengers of Him”.
Inquilab Zindabad.
A Person, some Tom-Dick-Harry, comes to your house, kills your loved ones, takes away everything you ever had, and everything you will ever have, and walks away. What do you do? You watch in anguish, with your hands on your eyes, or you go and fight back?
“There was no option but death”, says the Honourable Judge. Period. I am no one to debate the rightness of the decision, but each and everyone of us has the right to question the rationality of the Law. Justice, they say, has been delivered. Where?! To whom!? To the girl who lost her leg? The boy who lost his parents? The parents who lost their son? The husband who lost his wife? The foreigner who earned crutches to walk on her entire life? The hundreds of us who lost our safety? The millions of us who lost our courage to fight back?
Well, I suggest an option, which i know will go nowhere beyond this note. Mutilate him. Crush him to death. Hack him to pieces. Feed him to hungry crocodiles. Let loose Black Mambas on him. Let him play the matador in the wildest bullfight. Throw him into the mob full of people who lost someone or something in the attack.
My friend tells me, well, who are we to take a life? What is the difference between them and us? Are we supposed to uphold the same life-taking values as they do? Are we also terrorists to take lives?
I used to think so till about two days back. And then, I read about this girl who lost her parents and her legs in the attack. Then, I think, wait a sec dood, if we let this carry on, maybe you are the next victim, or maybe I. Who knows.
With no offence meant, we Indians cannot act. We just cannot. Be it the so called rational restraints of society or the misplaced sense of conscience which we possess, but we cannot do something to prevent what is going to happen. Mr Shah makes a valid point in A Wednesday, “ We get used to things too fast”. We have the “chalta hai” attitude, which does not do good to fend off terror.
Well, we may not act, but we do have one simple option. Give the guy a bad death. The one he deserves. Let him die in a way so scary that no one else will ever dare to intrude our territory. My will to do something to stop these bastards is more than ever, and I will do as much as I can in the near future.
Lastly, supporting my friend's point, I may like to add something. An eye for an eye will make the world blind. So be it. Let us have an two eyes for an eye, a jaw for a tooth. I'd rather be blind than have myself butchered by these “messsengers of Him”.
Inquilab Zindabad.
Life, Thank You so very much :)
I just saw the video of this guy named nick Vujicic. Weird Russian name, even a weirder guy I must say. I came into the video complaining about long Resonance lectures, bad tests, horrible life et al. I was asking God why i didn't have an Adidas ball to kick, a Nike pair of shoes to wear, or an original Chelsea jersey to show off. I was asking God why I didn't live in some upscale area of town, why i was not a big big guy, why had rough hair, etc. I was effing cribbing about every little thing on my body, inside my body and outside too.
So here I was, waiting for a video to buffer, waiting for my cell to ring, and thinking about how cruel life was to me. How it had landed me in shitty classes with people who were mad for some entrance to some college and on and on. There were a thousand qualms in my mind regarding things from not being able to run fast to not being a good football player to what not. I basically sucked to myself, and seemingly to the rest of the world.
The video buffered. And approximately four minutes and eleven seconds later, the complaints were replaced by a welling heart and a regret that i ever had complains about a thing called Life.
Nick Vujicic (I'm not his advertising agent or anything. :P) , what a man! WHAT A MAN! :) Of the boundless tales of human potential I've heard, from Hercules lifting mountains to Lincoln changing the world, the story which most appealed to me in every way, almost moved me to tears was the one of Mr. Nick. I cribbed for not being able to play football well, this guy had no legs. I cribbed because i couldn't solve maths sums well or did not have a good handwriting, this guy had no hands. :'(
It's heartening to know how deep the valleys of human potential really are, and how high they can take you in Life. Life's small pranks usually may incite you to commit suicide, just relieve yourself by writing an “I Quit” on your wall, and then be treated like a hero by school going children. Fine, get your fancy. Die. It's rather simple to say an I QUIT than saying I WILL and rise like a phoenix out of your own burnt ashes! It's rather simple to strangle yourself with a piece of rope than just undo the rope that Life ties in it's test to Nirvana, it is rather simple to blame the world of treating you like an ass rather than stop being the ass you are. It takes courage mind you, more than just courage, it takes a will to stand up and say a duck off to those little gnawing griefs of life.
Life's small prank turned not-so-small for the big guy Nick Vujicic. Poor chap was born with a chicken drumstick for a leg and no hands at all. Today, he sports the biggest smile in the world. :')
I urge everyone to see the video on YouTube, not because I'm a big fan or something, but because i've become a devotee. :)
God sends these little children of his some day or the other to make you feel you are not just worthless shite, or just a piece of scum, but you are MEN! There's a lion roaring which you try to tame rather than let it roam free. There's a lot of happiness within you which you tend to keep hidden in the fear of losing it. That is not just the case, it's the other way round. Fortunately. :)
I'd like to tell only two lines from the video which i simply loved,
“.. I may not have hands, but i will always be able to hold your hand..”
“..Girls, You are gorgeous as you are! Boys, you are MEN!..”
He doesn't know i exist, he doesn't know he's just changed a life. All i want to say is Thank You Mr. Nick Vujicic, Thank you so very much. :')
So here I was, waiting for a video to buffer, waiting for my cell to ring, and thinking about how cruel life was to me. How it had landed me in shitty classes with people who were mad for some entrance to some college and on and on. There were a thousand qualms in my mind regarding things from not being able to run fast to not being a good football player to what not. I basically sucked to myself, and seemingly to the rest of the world.
The video buffered. And approximately four minutes and eleven seconds later, the complaints were replaced by a welling heart and a regret that i ever had complains about a thing called Life.
Nick Vujicic (I'm not his advertising agent or anything. :P) , what a man! WHAT A MAN! :) Of the boundless tales of human potential I've heard, from Hercules lifting mountains to Lincoln changing the world, the story which most appealed to me in every way, almost moved me to tears was the one of Mr. Nick. I cribbed for not being able to play football well, this guy had no legs. I cribbed because i couldn't solve maths sums well or did not have a good handwriting, this guy had no hands. :'(
It's heartening to know how deep the valleys of human potential really are, and how high they can take you in Life. Life's small pranks usually may incite you to commit suicide, just relieve yourself by writing an “I Quit” on your wall, and then be treated like a hero by school going children. Fine, get your fancy. Die. It's rather simple to say an I QUIT than saying I WILL and rise like a phoenix out of your own burnt ashes! It's rather simple to strangle yourself with a piece of rope than just undo the rope that Life ties in it's test to Nirvana, it is rather simple to blame the world of treating you like an ass rather than stop being the ass you are. It takes courage mind you, more than just courage, it takes a will to stand up and say a duck off to those little gnawing griefs of life.
Life's small prank turned not-so-small for the big guy Nick Vujicic. Poor chap was born with a chicken drumstick for a leg and no hands at all. Today, he sports the biggest smile in the world. :')
I urge everyone to see the video on YouTube, not because I'm a big fan or something, but because i've become a devotee. :)
God sends these little children of his some day or the other to make you feel you are not just worthless shite, or just a piece of scum, but you are MEN! There's a lion roaring which you try to tame rather than let it roam free. There's a lot of happiness within you which you tend to keep hidden in the fear of losing it. That is not just the case, it's the other way round. Fortunately. :)
I'd like to tell only two lines from the video which i simply loved,
“.. I may not have hands, but i will always be able to hold your hand..”
“..Girls, You are gorgeous as you are! Boys, you are MEN!..”
He doesn't know i exist, he doesn't know he's just changed a life. All i want to say is Thank You Mr. Nick Vujicic, Thank you so very much. :')
Thursday, January 14, 2010
RPUSDC Nomenclature
I've decided for myself, enough of melancholia, and nostalgia. Enough of life and philosophy. Something fresh as the west wind!
Well, to start off with a title so nerdy requires SOME audacity, and a certain amount of gutso(though both of them mean the same thing :P).. So here it goes, this is how it all started..
22,dichloro-223,24,3234-trimethyl-230312-greekoromansomebullcrapethoxymethanoicacid..( phew! ) Draw the structure she said, and my brain was already in circles. The seeds of revolt were sown. The despise i had for chemistry was already at it's pinnacle and couldn't have increased.. So i decided to take the world on, and set my own rules. Here i was, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing in mind, infinitive nothingness. :|
A couple of buddies, namely Sanket Prabhu and Ravin Jadhav, also frustrated with this world, and of course by IUPAC monopoly thought of a plan. One that would change ours and million other lives forever.
Coming back to the title, we formed the RPUSDC, The Raunak Park Union of Street Dogs and Cats. :) Committee members, Sanket Prabhu- President, Ravin Jadhav- VP , and Atharva Kelkar-General Secretary. :D
Aaand, frustration galore, fury in mind, three fired up youths devised a new Nomenclature. As carboxylic acids and oxy ketones were out of the scope of our mind, we started publicizing the RPUSDC nomenclature for naming dogs. From big wild ones to small shy ones, from stray to pet, from USA to Uganda, follow 4 simple steps and you can name any dog on Earth. It's simple, believe me.
STEP 1=> Look at the dog. The moment you see it. There are only two possibilities, you like him/her or don't. No 3rd alternative. Decide which one of those 2 categories it is. :)
STEP 2=> If you like the dog, call him Jagtap. If you don't, call him Emily. :)
STEP 3=> Exception no. 1--> If the dog has cancer, or if he is a passive smoker, sitting in some smoking zone, name him Himesss. And pronounce the “sss” properly for your life's sake.. :)
STEP 4=> Last and easiest step. Exception 2--> If the dog has wild colours, and stripes (found in every village in India, guaranteed), name him Sheru.
Thus, we end our simple 4 step plan. I know this one is exasperatingly boring and annoying, but WE HAVE TO IMPLEMENT THIS IN OUR DAILY LIVES, TO MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE TO LIVE IN.
Thanking you,
Just another dog on the street of life. :)
P.S.=> All the names mentioned above are factitious and any reference to any human being, dog or bitch is purely intentional. Blame to be shared by all 3 committee members. :)
Well, to start off with a title so nerdy requires SOME audacity, and a certain amount of gutso(though both of them mean the same thing :P).. So here it goes, this is how it all started..
22,dichloro-223,24,3234-trimethyl-230312-greekoromansomebullcrapethoxymethanoicacid..( phew! ) Draw the structure she said, and my brain was already in circles. The seeds of revolt were sown. The despise i had for chemistry was already at it's pinnacle and couldn't have increased.. So i decided to take the world on, and set my own rules. Here i was, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing in mind, infinitive nothingness. :|
A couple of buddies, namely Sanket Prabhu and Ravin Jadhav, also frustrated with this world, and of course by IUPAC monopoly thought of a plan. One that would change ours and million other lives forever.
Coming back to the title, we formed the RPUSDC, The Raunak Park Union of Street Dogs and Cats. :) Committee members, Sanket Prabhu- President, Ravin Jadhav- VP , and Atharva Kelkar-General Secretary. :D
Aaand, frustration galore, fury in mind, three fired up youths devised a new Nomenclature. As carboxylic acids and oxy ketones were out of the scope of our mind, we started publicizing the RPUSDC nomenclature for naming dogs. From big wild ones to small shy ones, from stray to pet, from USA to Uganda, follow 4 simple steps and you can name any dog on Earth. It's simple, believe me.
STEP 1=> Look at the dog. The moment you see it. There are only two possibilities, you like him/her or don't. No 3rd alternative. Decide which one of those 2 categories it is. :)
STEP 2=> If you like the dog, call him Jagtap. If you don't, call him Emily. :)
STEP 3=> Exception no. 1--> If the dog has cancer, or if he is a passive smoker, sitting in some smoking zone, name him Himesss. And pronounce the “sss” properly for your life's sake.. :)
STEP 4=> Last and easiest step. Exception 2--> If the dog has wild colours, and stripes (found in every village in India, guaranteed), name him Sheru.
Thus, we end our simple 4 step plan. I know this one is exasperatingly boring and annoying, but WE HAVE TO IMPLEMENT THIS IN OUR DAILY LIVES, TO MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE TO LIVE IN.
Thanking you,
Just another dog on the street of life. :)
P.S.=> All the names mentioned above are factitious and any reference to any human being, dog or bitch is purely intentional. Blame to be shared by all 3 committee members. :)
Friday, January 8, 2010
Long or Short? o.O
Well, wait. This title doesn't echo what I'm actually thinking about, and it DOES NOT echo one bit of what you thought for the first time after reading it. :P So here it goes..
Another year gone by, leaving back traces of memories, somewhere in some corner of my mind which I'm too busy to search for. Memories, aah, get me nostalgic. Take me to another world where everything is so different and almost anything around me has a special significance to this small heart of mine. I've been there, I've done this before. My heart skips a beat. A feeling of sinking melancholia. Was it yesterday? What if it were today?
School life drawn to an end. One golden chapter of my life etched in the ventricles of my heart. From those eternally-going-on chemistry periods to those short, momentary PE periods.. Nothing of it again.. All new, unfamiliar faces.. Friends, lost somewhere in some wave of life, washed afar by the dividing stream.. that fine stream which divides illusion and reality.. Is it true? Is this not going to happen again?
Just another Sunday morning. No class, no nothing. Rotting in bed. The thought seems like a butterfly. Beautiful, colourful, I want to catch it, but I can't. What if I relived those 12 years again? I'm suddenly lifted by some mysterious Force and placed right where I want to be. Again that old feeling, I've been there, I've done that before. But what if I actually relived those 12 years?! Would they remain as special as they are to me right now?! The question, I suppose, is rhetoric. :)
Temporality, defines life, it's pleasures, it's misgivings, everything about it. Permanency is just another elusive mirage. Wordsworth was right(for a change), life is like Daffodils. Lasts one short day, one short hour, one short minute. You've got no chance to grab everything with one hand. Yet you try to take hold, try to force your hand somehow. The result, you don't even get to hold on to a bit of this sweetmeat called life. :) Life is temporary, it's dreams are short-lived. The pleasures, momentary. Take it all in, one at a time.
Finally, (i can sense a “phew!” :P) I ask myself a question. The simplest of all questions that could possibly have been raised. There is no quantum mechanics, hybridisation or integral calculus. Are shorter memories the sweeter ones? My friend asks me the same question. He/She feels the longer ones are better. They last a lifetime. I beg to differ. The shorter they are, the sweeter their taste remains.
So I sign off for now, asking you about what you feel, about how you can be more enlightened to have the biggest chunk of this walnut pie called “Life”.
Thanking you if you lasted this long,
Another temporary biggot. :)
Another year gone by, leaving back traces of memories, somewhere in some corner of my mind which I'm too busy to search for. Memories, aah, get me nostalgic. Take me to another world where everything is so different and almost anything around me has a special significance to this small heart of mine. I've been there, I've done this before. My heart skips a beat. A feeling of sinking melancholia. Was it yesterday? What if it were today?
School life drawn to an end. One golden chapter of my life etched in the ventricles of my heart. From those eternally-going-on chemistry periods to those short, momentary PE periods.. Nothing of it again.. All new, unfamiliar faces.. Friends, lost somewhere in some wave of life, washed afar by the dividing stream.. that fine stream which divides illusion and reality.. Is it true? Is this not going to happen again?
Just another Sunday morning. No class, no nothing. Rotting in bed. The thought seems like a butterfly. Beautiful, colourful, I want to catch it, but I can't. What if I relived those 12 years again? I'm suddenly lifted by some mysterious Force and placed right where I want to be. Again that old feeling, I've been there, I've done that before. But what if I actually relived those 12 years?! Would they remain as special as they are to me right now?! The question, I suppose, is rhetoric. :)
Temporality, defines life, it's pleasures, it's misgivings, everything about it. Permanency is just another elusive mirage. Wordsworth was right(for a change), life is like Daffodils. Lasts one short day, one short hour, one short minute. You've got no chance to grab everything with one hand. Yet you try to take hold, try to force your hand somehow. The result, you don't even get to hold on to a bit of this sweetmeat called life. :) Life is temporary, it's dreams are short-lived. The pleasures, momentary. Take it all in, one at a time.
Finally, (i can sense a “phew!” :P) I ask myself a question. The simplest of all questions that could possibly have been raised. There is no quantum mechanics, hybridisation or integral calculus. Are shorter memories the sweeter ones? My friend asks me the same question. He/She feels the longer ones are better. They last a lifetime. I beg to differ. The shorter they are, the sweeter their taste remains.
So I sign off for now, asking you about what you feel, about how you can be more enlightened to have the biggest chunk of this walnut pie called “Life”.
Thanking you if you lasted this long,
Another temporary biggot. :)
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