Immortality, I wish for

Where are we heading?

Sometimes days pass by until you realize they are passing. A thought clouds your mind with a temptation to explore the "what if's" and so your solitude is occupied. Days becomes night, evening and afternoon have no sign. Some of you think about getting into better college, some are occupied with better job salary while some are busy with what to download. Lately, I have been seized by a thought. Thought which might transcend the boundaries of fiction. Even though the idea can never happen but dabbling into the sea of possibilities, which indeed is perpetual, it is itself a meditation to me.

Thought, a human is ought to die as a part of an inevitable process; the thought itself brings a sense of sensation down the spine. Equilibrium has to be intact, after all that is how the universe works. Give and take away criterion is a fundamentally proven law of nature. Whenever something has to dealt with life and death, as a part of routine we always tend to drag medical science and its advancement into the field but never tried to go beyond death. Medical advancement cannot seize your youth forever. Life beyond death is my point of ponder here or Immortality, if I articulate the phrase.

Death gives us sleep, eternal youth, and immorality — Jean Paul

“How would it be if I were immortal? Rather filling only one generation I would have filled so many, if only I were immortal.” It is actually what has been keeping me up these days. Immortality is something which is always fantasized and wished by the mortals. Why we ache for such a bizarre fantasy? Perhaps, it is not the curiosity of watching the generations come and go by; somewhere down the line it is the fear to die, fear of not able to breathe again, feel the things again and departure from the loved ones. Plenty of people must had given a thought to not to die secretly in their solitude. Getting baffled by the enigma of life and death is rather very easy and intriguing also on the other hand very intimidating too. If you still haven’t given a thought, please do since I do not want to sound like a parallel universe’s weird specimen. Thought? Felt good; didn't you? Watching over your parents, children, grand children, great grandchildren and so on! Witnessing the growth; from mobile phones to holographic communication devices and eventually to the end of the world. Historic life. Wouldn’t it be, hmm?

Hindu mythology manifests the fetish for immortality. Protagonist, *of the time being* prays hard to impress his God and when succeeds; in exchange of his efforts, a blessing for immortality is being asked, often. Though, God replies with a straight no, no matter how rude may it sounds, but why? Perhaps, being immortal is not what it appears to be. Significance might to manifest itself but is encrypt somewhere in it. Mythological aspect of being immortal implies the sheer fact, that now the “mortal who has turned to immortal” shares a place amidst the various Gods. Either God is too choosey with his council members or there is no vacancy for other God job post. But nothing seems to convince me. Is then immortality a curse? I had stopped pondering upon this issue; hitherto, I was suggested to watch a series.

Recently, I had completed watching a 6 episode anime series, named Rin: Daughter of Mnemosyne which answered me the question for which I had been longing for. The story of two immortal girls; cannot be killed, and if they do get killed, they can regenerate. Excellent concept with sheer brilliant artwork (Of course artwort would be brilliant, it is an anime.) and short six episode story but with a perfectly profound moral, at least for me. With every passing episode the series taught me aspects of human life. The trading cost for being immortal is just too high. Stakes are off the charts, I’d say. The foundation policy of our entire living comes into act “if you want some, you have to give away some”. But what you have to give away in return of immortality? Seems peculiar trade, no? Given a chance to choose I would like to die instead of living for eternity. Why? Because the answer is simple, immortality is a curse. You have to pay for immortality for eternity. How would someone feel if he is made to eat his favorite food all day long? He will relish the feast for days, then after week he will get tired within a month or so, bored. Repeating the same activity for decades perhaps century will eventually lead to a life of boredom. This is the expense and peril.

Detachment is hard and dealing with the melancholy would be perpetual when you have to live on and on, seems a trivial trade to me; only if you are not a hollow emotionless lump of flesh in a human form. Peril comes with everything but the intensity differs with every circumstance, this is extreme. Living has to be kept a secret affair; questions would rise if told to everyone. Human are always curious to explore new sides of life, making your immortal life just a piece of experiments and data collection source would be a heavenly blessing for them. Changing places and identities, so much for living is not the kind of life I would ever want. Yet, there will be people who will opt to live and face the consequences. Words will fail to persuade them but their opinions will remain unshakable. Of course everything is fictitious but seems real to me, I think I am immortal………  

We Can Leak

This is a guest post is written by Aashish Aryan who is a well acknowledged writer at News That Matters Not. He blogs here.

And this time around we decided to give some competition to that white guy (do we sound racists?) with a knack for disturbing world leaders… Julian Assange. Wait, we are not going to open another website or go to the jail or encounter a rape case either.  We did our own share of leaking things and chanced upon a little bit of a “private” conversation between Harvinder Singh and his victim Sharad Pawar. Hacking into the MTNL’s telephone cable is not a big deal of efforts. This little conversation happened when Shard was at some cricket stadium and his arch-nemesis Harvinder Singh in the jail. Since MTNL’s line had a heavy disturbance hence entire conversation couldn’t be recorded. Excerpt from the conversation is as under.

Harvinder: Hello Saar. So, how are you doing now? (imagining Pawar’s left cheek). I heard some fan also went down quite close to you.

Pawar: Don’t you frickin'; dare to talk to me. Who asked you to slap me so hard? Ouch! It still hurts. Ouch! And then that brandishing knife and all. You think it was fun, huh?

Harvinder (chuckles): I wanted it to look as real as possible, man! This is what the script demanded. Moreover, people living a virtual life can be cynics. I had to do it. Also, as the treaty goes you have not even got me Sunny, you promised me! It has been days singe the hand-on-cheek incident. (Well do we need to explain it, Which Sunny?)

Why Always Bat?

This post had been sitting with puppy eyes in my drafts for a month now and while I pen, this post stands out of regular. This is an outrageous post. Okay, I exaggerated a little. Lately I have been thinking to actually ponder upon something sensitive. Actually not that sensitive, okay-okay-ish sensitive types.

It is okay to love something, but what if “love” exceeds the boundaries of okay? Nothing can be done; we have to live with it. Maruti television commercial says, “India, a country obsessed with mileage” but clearly they are wrong by miles. India has a bigger obsession, mileages doesn’t even make up to the “Top 10 Obsessions of India”. Cricket is the list topping obsession of India. For some, this obsession has crossed all the bars and boundaries (Not Chandni Bar, okay?); doesn’t matter if India is not playing, humein toh match he dekhna hai bas.

.....Yours Truly

 “This letter is strictly written to address the general public. Also it gives me; Digvijay Singh, an immense pleasure to announce that “The Unwise Prevails over the Wise” has completed its year long journey in Blogosphere and on such an occasion what is better than to publish my letter to Indian youth?”

I have been wondering for years to write such a letter and unravel what Digvijay actually is. And today, here I am collecting my anecdotes and aligning them in this letter as we speak. I was born in the year 1947 and the truth of Indian independence lies within me. I was declared as the destined child by Panditji from Shiv Mandir near my Mausiji’s house; that would bring an ode of emancipation with him for his motherland. That very year India tasted its long awaited freedom; my virtue has never been credited since then. History also testifies; life of a hero has always been synonym to miseries and darkness; mine was no different. I was sent to an engineering college……eyes of sympathy still haunt me. I was always looked down upon by the people for years probably because I was Sheldon Cooper of my era. I must bring up some of my handy work I did in my early days. When I was 7, my neighbor aunt caught me stalking her daughter; when I was 10, a bunch of lad pondered me because I refuse to give them the money I lost in a bet; at the age of 15, I was on the pinnacle of my puberty and my parents caught me ………….*Fap Fap Fap*; at the age of 20, teacher caught me with chits while writing exam. I grew up without a Play Stations or iPhone or watching Harry Potter Series or riding Pulsar; enough to give you a rough sketch of my demean childhood. Every piece of my miseries fell into the right void as predicted by Daruwalaji, precisely this is the reason why lately I like being called as Diggy; name change policy, you see!

I was sad, low and heading without the compass of life. I remember the verses I quoted during this phase—

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness

That most frightens us.

We ask ourselves

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

You’re playing small

Does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking

So that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine,

As children do.

We were born to make manifest

The glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us;

It's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we're liberated from our own fear,

Our presence automatically liberates others.

—     Marianne Williamson Digvijay Singh

My vision provoked the poet out of me and under no consciousness I wrote such a masterpiece. Vision was equipped to change my life forever; it was the day when I joined the most elite politico group of India; Congress. I had to accomplish something for myself. Bas ek aag thi jo tan badan main  failti chali gayi. I was young, naive and my youth kept pushing me to strive for success. But now I am focus and motor mouth service man with a will to put India on world map, in a slightly different manner, unlike F1 racing or A Raja. Politics is a game of dirt; I was accused of being corrupt, endlessly and invariably. I am the chosen one and I can never have words such a corrupt in my career file; it has always been and will always be a conspiracy by Anti-Digvijay group, Hindu groups, BJP or RSS. The possibility of involvement of Extra Terrestrials cannot be ruled out as well.

Baseless charges on me: Ridiculously ridicule accusations

Now when the congress is strong enough, capable to single handedly trend anything on twitter; it is not unnatural that Anti-Congress (Team Anna) will not take birth. It’s a balance without which universe will shred into pieces. Over the time they nourished and tried to shake the concrete of ruling party. After me they proceeded as their play was laid; Manmohanji, Soniaji and Rahulji by Kajrawaala err… I mean Kejriwal. I respect Annaji “only” from the bottom of my heart. I hold no personal grudge against him but I sincerely believe if he wants to bring “A Good Government” into power, instead of his chaotic campaign he should fight an election without the invisible support of RSS or ET’s. 

So, in my final words I would like to wish you all a very happy life ahead. My you always hoot and vote for Congress. Jai Hind!

Dhanyawaad

— Digvijay Singh

Post was also published at thewittyshit(dot)com and can be read here.

An Ideal Boy

Here

Boys prejudice, a lot. Their habit to exaggerate and overrate ant size matter agitates me enough to nitpick on them. For century feminism had been seen low, male driven society is the trend. How come? Can male reproduce? NO. Then how come they rate their maleness above the femaleness? I have been advised by the blog owner to be gentle but parallel runs the veracious me. How can I be gentle when I am living in a state called Delhi, where a damsel is a frail imbecile who is been taught all the aspects of life and later burdened with tones of restrictions?

Now when I think about it, I have learned to live with it. I cannot vent my perpetual crotchety on anyone, solitude was only non-grey option available. Then I asked my friend, “Can I rant on your blog?” With an intriguing eye and not-so-usual face he answered, “Are you nuts? That’s my ranting place.” With a little threatening and boom-puff he frenetically agreed and this was how I got this space; PoV – Musings of an anonymous girl. Account of my musings would be in scarce but every time it will bring a new fervor to me. I hope you relish this feast (Metaphorically said).

Neighbor Stands Tall

Don't worry, we are here.

So you think world is weird place and cannot get weirder? Is that so? Hah! You are absolutely, wrong. See the world with an angle that is not defined on a protractor and you’ll see China (Sarcasm exclusive). World’s most populated country but not densely populated; China is like Rakhi Sawant. Whenever China feels it’ is out of news, it manages to give the world something intriguing to ponder upon. China reminds me of the time when the concept of dating was not appreciated. Someone who was found practicing blatant dating game had to face the furor. For weeks, the agitated mother watches her daughter with narrow eyes; no-no even narrower than their actual gifted narrowness (See the picture above | No racism intended.).

From early 2000, China is invariably famous for its Made in China tags carved beautifully at the bottom or back of any product but now things have changed. With a GDP of 9.5% now China has also gained much of reorganization. New trades have shown up, new job opportunities are waiting for young Chinese to grasp upon. Boyfriends and girlfriend’s seasonal trade is the latest trend in China these days. They just have to pay a small amount to change their relationship status on Facebook from being Single to In a Relationship, and of course to make their parents happy. Pay more get more real relation, that’s the deal.

“Nothing can sustain in this universe without equilibrium” – China knew it, and soon acted upon it. Can’t say it’s over? Let us help you” The isolated internet sphere of China is nowadays seizing with the ads and agents who prejudice themselves as The Breakup Expert. Killing the love has always been the cruelest act. No one wants to be in the middle of river of tears flowing through the mountains of guilt. Now when I see it, agents appear to me as noble soles souls; born to emancipate. Carrying their karma to find a place in heaven and who knows they might get rewarded with 72 virgins just like Osama-bin-Laden. With a price of 400 Yuan for an hour to break the bitter news these agents are hit these days. Had this idea been boon in India, a chain of people would have registered themselves as the agents and more rapidly institutes like FIITJEE would be offering a 2 week condense course in this field with a fee of ` 20,000 per week. Fee would include—tuition fee, book fee and examination fee. If FIITJEE is doing it then how can Brilliant, Narayana and Pie leave themselves behind?

Screw the Skills

For years we have witnessed many milk additives. Bournvita, Complaint, Milo, Maltova, Horlicks, blah, blah and blah. We know, they make kids Taller, Stronger, Sharper and all the possible “er”. Along with great taste does such milk additives also stimulates the grasping power of brain, as promised? No, they don’t. I have tasted all and Maltova was the best though my mother asked me to settle for Bournvita.

I asked myself a question – Does my class topper use such a supplement to hold his position in class? Perhaps yes. That is the reason why I started having it. Expectations always hurt – I learned it the hard way. Even after Bournvita I didn’t top. This was preposterous. I condemned the apparent result. Then I tried Horlicks. It should have worked according to the ad. The “sharper” thingy wasn’t true. They exaggerate the sharpness by various degrees. I don’t see how it can calibrates one’s mental capabilities when now I mull on it. That is when I learned some facts— I still forget where my cap is after wearing it. I still search for my specs even when I’m wearing them. Perhaps, I should file a legal complaint against additive makers and drag them to the Consumer Welfare court, no? Also I have nothing much interesting to do these days.

Fading Festive

Google Images

It was the eve of Independence Day; 15^th August. World was a beholder when world’s largest democracy cherished its 64^th year of emancipation. I was trying to rate my patriotism. Has it increased by few folds or has it decreased by few notches. I don’t fly kites anyone, has the patriotism inside me died? I don’t wear Khādī has the patriotism dried?

While rating I realized; why only Independence Day, has my interest dipped for every festival or occasion celebrated in the society? I grazed for a while and realized—it is not only me. I don’t see sky full of kites anymore. I don’t see enthusiasm in 15^th day of August anymore. Does my enthusiasm lies only in a single day of a year? Doesn’t my actions rather than flaunt works for the benefit of my nation?

|Does patriotism only means “that”? Can’t patriotism be not downgrading own country?

My teacher accused me of being driven by the western cult. The one who’s trying to get himself to a Canadian university as a professor warned me for not wearing Capri. Where is the love for India, I bet it is in Canada, no? So how am I supposed to make myself patriotic? Any idea? I can paint my face with tricolour and run around the streets, I can loudly sing Vande Mataram to show my patriotism is above all. Won’t my subtle actions help in progress my nation?

I do not stalk any tourist neither I ask them for their names out of blues. Doesn’t this makes my nation a little above than it actually was for tourists from abroad? I do not spit out venom, unnecessarily. Last time I travelled in DTC I heard intellectuals’ above 50’s overly ranting the nation. A little contribution can help but who cares? Rants are much easily availing medium.

| What I believe is – not making it worse is a part of not degrading.

I do not write on ancient monuments “♥ I love you Shreya ♥”. Monuments are tourist venue and give a great deal of moolah in Indian economy. I don’t write on them hence I do not degrade them. Doesn’t this indirectly say I’m helping my country? Perhaps, I am not economically strengthen enough to contribute in country; oh come on, I’m still a student. I see no reason to crib excessively about the ill-condition of country. Did country asked you to rape it? Excessive crime rate. Did country made you bankrupt? Betting on India-England match did. Did country made it the way it is now? Earlier it was centre of excellent monumental display and now it is all tobacco and pisses marks and smell too. Stop raving when you cannot. (FYI: Yes, this paragraph was meant to hurt.)

A Desktop Affair

In the human life of 60 years, well almost, there comes a time when he has to believe what he sees. Perhaps, what he is seeing is too enigmatic to apprehend but he cannot complain; life has to throw lemons at him according to the rules and going by the SMS he has to ask for Vodka. It is a metaphor by the way but can’t help if you have already started drooling. What if he flunk to firmly grasp the opportunity? His chance to win free Vodka will be spilled on the floor. He will see someone else relishing it—the exotic mocktail now. He gets irked more because GoI had hiked the price of all alcoholic beverages by 15-20%. This is life, sedate but full of camouflage dwelled marvelously with euphemism. It is trivial to resist the impetus; it just burns him from inside.

Life taught me a new lesson. Methodology adopted was next to bizarre. Life dwells in every single thing, literally. I was about to type down my views on the current Indian scenario on my MS Word when it refused to accept the word Suresh Kalmadi, vague of the cause I tried to write it down again but a warning message in display frown me. Any further attempt will lead to corruption in Windows. I rubbed my eyes until I was sure what I am reading is what I am really reading or what I am reading is not what I am really reading but really is. So, MS Word is Kalmadi repellent now, more like Mortein. I expected life to throw something tangy to me. *Sigh* Thinking of the dementia eased my head. Perhaps, Word is afraid of dementia. It can be communicable sometimes, no? I left the word Kalmadi and began with a new post, afresh, with a sole purpose to mock A. Raja and wow his astutely earned few lakh crores. Another warning flashed breaking me into sweat. Word refused to take A. Raja as a word too. What the hell is wrong with MS Word? Reinstalling MS Word too didn’t helped. My desktop has been infected by them and their likes. 

Crazy about a Man-mohan. Are we?

This is a guest post and is written by the one who has invariably amazed me by the way she writes and the grip she holds. Her sharp opinions dwell in her opinionated mind; crisp and perfectly chiseled. I wish I could ridicule like her, but alas! The writer at Freebird, Alka Gurha.

That sex-glamour combo is an effective tool for advertising is known. How then can the political realm remain untouched by it?
In several countries charismatic candidates, mostly male have created followers who display love and adulation for the candidate. Amber Ettinger’s ‘Obama girl’ campaign in 2008 elections was a perfect example. Amber an American actress rose to fame when she acted in a video, ‘I got a crush on Obama’ in which she professed her admiration for the then US Senator, now President.

Visibly, Putin is happy; very happy I say.

On similar lines young women declaring their love for Putin are forming a cult in Russia. Recently, Putin launched his forth-coming Presidential campaign with a video contest where young smart and beautiful girls were asked to tear something off for Putin. So what did young and beautiful girls rip off? Clothes of course! All for their leader, Vladimir Putin. “I am just crazy about a man who changed our country,” said one pretty girl.
Adulation is a natural outcome of decisive, charismatic leadership. And decisive leadership comes from decisive actions. A friend posed a legitimate question, “Will beautiful girls shed clothes for Indian politicians?”

Contest is open for all. Rip in your entries today. Hurry!

The 6 PM Slot

About the Author— 


Author of Indian origin, Naomi Datta daydreams about the perfect bollywood Rom-Com that she will make one day, plays badminton, and updates her facebook status on the hour. That’s when she’s gainfully occupied. She is otherwise a television producer, presenter and film writer. She counts Times Now, CNBC TV 18 and MTV among her employers in a decade long television carrier. She currently freelances and believes she is the best boss she had ever had. Naomi is based in Mumbai and this is her debut novel.


Review—

The 6 PM Slot by Naomi Datta

Welcome to the world of television, where nothing is ever what it appears.

It is refreshing read with a peculiar plot; back office. YTV—Youth TV, as the name suggests a youth channel is dipping with its TRP among the audience. Book opens with a boss wants to see the numbers and graphs on PPT and that too soon. Tanya is the central character; protagonist of the story.


Rahul, plans to defy the laws of show time and decides to launch a love talk show in the 6 PM Slot. His deputy, a swine man Harish questions his idea but then readily agrees. Tanya who was struggling with her carrier at YTV and was responsible for the show on celebrities pet (apparently obsessed) was given this new project of her life time.

Metro-ian Dissection

Have you heard about Metro, Delhi Metro? Metro is one such project that brought grandeur to the name “Delhi Metro Rail Corporation”. Now when it’s a huge success unlike Ready, it brought people closer than they actually are. Now I can land anywhere uninvited, thanks to Metro. Ease had to be compromise; enough facility doesn't sound India, right? A short run is tolerable and can be easily disremembered. Unfortunately I always get rope in an alone voyage which starts giving me melancholics’ soon as I realize the above stated fact.

Are you in this picture? Yes. Congrats, you're famous now.

Invariably irking announcement on metro stations takes my toes off the ground (Even higher than Red Bulls). The blatant announcement turns into a melodious silence when loud speakers goes malfunction. Stentorian musical tones from headphones—some highly intellectual beings have successfully de-bunked new alternatives to make their co-passengers listen Sheela Ki Jawani. Blaring isn't from no-guarantee Chinese cell phone’s extra large speaker, this time it is, maximum volume flaring out from their 3.5mm jack earphones. Suave office goers are the most admired among all. They are calm and fully humanized with a sense of idiosyncrasy. Imbeciles—naam he kaafi hai. Talkative aunties are often discovered amidst congregation of too much talkative aunties. They spare their husband and whirl someone else’s pati parameshwar. Even their Facebook profile lists it as an interest and hobby. Ranting, raving a man without his attention is not an act of bravery, but they are talkative aunties after all, aren’t they?

Gender Blender

Ghulam Nabi Azad. What a gutsy man, no? After Supreme Court rendered its final judgment Ghulam Nabi Azad became sentimental. Damning the Act 377 aside he delivered his own dyslectic point. Ghulam Nabi Azad; I know most of you might have not ever heard his name before this. No, no nothing to be ashamed of, it is natural not to remember any cabinet minister except quite a few.

Something which happens often is called a miracle and Ghulam Nabi sahab made it happen. His comment on homosexuality created an echoing unanimous opinion. India got united, once again after Baba Ramdev, miracle.

Image Courtney- Satish Acharya  

We definitely cannot blame Nabi sahab for calling homosexuality a disease. Why? Silly; it is because every human cannot comprehend everything, easily. Instead of blatantly ranting our honorable health minister, people should have deciphered “other” vague possibilities hyperlink to his statement. After brilliantly linking MSM (Man having sex with man) to HIV/AIDS awareness a plethora of profuse outrage of opinions on social networking soon after the comment was seen. Considering Nabi sahab’s opinion on homosexuality as an unnatural disease I am freighted the most. Another statement from health minister issuing the symptoms of homosexuality is my concern. Is it communicable viral disease which spreads by touching like most of the people think like AIDS spreads?

Medical fact—a disease never shows up immediately. It follows symptoms.

I believe Ghulam sahab is busy in creating symptoms.

Baba Ramdev with his unparallel experience also called it a yoga curable disease. 

I always wonder; do they deliberately make such a statement? Ask me, I’ll say yes. Humans are always credited as attention seekers and as far my knowledge goes “they” are humans. This is the best phase to yell out such opinionated statements since their pinning voice won’t be heard in future. No it’s not apocalypse but the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows – Part 2 and Twilight – Breaking Dawn are set to make cover page headlines for months.

They cannot enroll for Roadies and Splitsvilla, not because their morale doesn’t allow but the show requirement is beyond their reach. Hence idea dropped. Their vast knowledge is incomparable hence they cannot even take part in any quiz contest. Their modesty holds them back from displaying their sheer knowledge. Their plan to appear on television and motivate people to adopt straightness in life will come to a halt if hence being someone who could efficiently on camera is the reason what they are today to spread their message to the world of tomorrow.

Now tell me, is such an outrage justified? SMS your opinions with "Yes", "Of course" or "Hell yes" to India TV

Open Letter to a Teacher

Disclaimer: Dear reader, if "somehow" you turn out to be my teacher then by no means this letter is written by me. I copied it from the link stated in the end. 

Dear Teacher,

How have you been? I hope everything is good. Although nothing is at my end, majorly because of the project on Robotics that has to be submitted to you by this week. It is giving me sleepless nights. In case you still have not guessed, I am a second year student in your institute. I have somehow gathered some courage to write this letter to you with an anonymous name so that you cannot deduct 5 marks from my internals, again. Although I would have loved to write with my name but I cannot risk losing anymore marks.

I want to divert your assiduity on what actually pupil think. However, before that I would like to tell you that the whole college knows about your affair with Mr. Sharma, our Physics lab assistant. I hereby request you to stop hiding it, and oh BTW you both are so perfect for each other, both with pessimistic thoughts towards your own "humble" students.

Coming back to the topic, this is what I want you to know:

There are two types of teacher in this world.

1. The good ones

2. The mean ones

Nevertheless, you fall in the rarest category the cruelly mean ones. Curious, which ones are these? Ah! Rarest.

Well, we the students have zero affinity towards the methodology of your teaching and always curse the way they check the papers. You brutally deduct marks and nothing ...NOTHING not even our tears move you. We believe that you allot marks based on the class performance, which is wrong. You gave me five marks out of 30 due to low attendance, ignoring the fact that despite your brutal checking I managed to pass, somehow.

Face—Two Face

 

P.S This chat is not in association with Coca Cola, Pepsi, Huggies Diaper, Vicco Turmeric Cream and not even with MDH Masala. 

Lately I have been wondering what I shall write as a blog post and then a fantastic idea struck into my mind. Why should I write a post alone? Interview is the most glorious way to ease the burden. However, I will have to credit the interviewee, hence I asked a "very good friend" of mine to pop up on my blog (like an ad) for an unofficial chit chat.

So Ladies and Gentlemen please welcome the author of a "widely read blog" (That is what she told me) Aura of Sleepless Dreams; Samadrita.

Since Samadrita is so much happy and honoured to be here so let us just skip the sissy formal talks if it is okay with her.

Samadrita - Sure, but how much will you pay me for this post? Oh sorry we'll talk about this later via mail.

Prateek – Samadrita, it is a Bengali name but what I want to know is, the meaning behind it.

 Samadrita- Samadrita comes from the word “Samadar” and refers to a female who is loved and

respected by all. XD Don’t I live upto my name? :P

  Prateek - Oh yes you do. Who knows it better than me. Eh!

Prateek – You have been blogging since 2008. Whoa! How did you stumble upon the thought to blog?

 Samadrita - It wasn’t a conscious decision to get into regular blogging. I just remember reading about a shocking newspaper report on the murder of a 10 year-old for an i-pod and felt the need to share my views somewhere. Before this I had read about how blogging had become a hip new trend for netizens and hence decided to get a blog myself. A platform where I could write and let myself be heard.

From The Diary of a Bullied Husband

17^th June

Dear diary,

Today I am celebrating 2 years of my marital status. For days, I have been conglomerating my thoughts in you. Most of them being rants and ordeals, but from tomorrow everything will change; I will rebuke, and will fly out of her dark and snobbish aura, which had been excruciating me and even my solace for years. Therefore, I will jot a synopsis of my journey from where it all started for the very last time. I am thankful to you for being a mute spectator and listening to me as a friend with a deep sympathy.

Anecdote 

I was an astute man before I got married, I lost all my sharpness; rusted and ditched, “queen of astuteness” bestowed over me. I remember she asked me, “Can you cook?” in our first meeting, what I never knew was; my answer will be taken too literally.

Deceptive

It was a fugitive delight when I got married. Did you notice the word “fugitive?” Soon we moved into our new home that I bought. In addition, that was the time when se unearthed her real self. She was not a zombie but something much more horrific than a zombie is—a sweet talker, aka manipulator (Said in a slow trembling tone) *Heavy Sigh*.

Cliché 

Making me clean the untidy dishes after working for nine straight hours is the most generous act according to her morals. She soon demanded to relinquish my control on the capital expenditure, a full share in my salary. I thought it was a good thing but sending me office with just Rs 200 as a pocket money; what in the world does that means?

I am always treated like I am a Congressmen even though I cast my vote on the name of Behen Mayawati.

Emancipation Seized

Soon she learned how to drive my car; I was force to commute via cycle to my office. She uses car for her own purpose now—parlours visit, stalking Sheila’s (Resident in the adjacent block) place, discovering new malls with 40-60% off hoarding, spa, bakery, etc.

Retro-Day in the Life of Engineer Prateek

| This guest post is written by Anita Menon who blogs at Slice of My Life. A heartfelt thank to her for such an "amazing" post.  

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction with resemblance to only one living person who is none other than Mr. Prateek Bagri. He invited me to do a guest post for his blog and wanted it to be funny/interesting. This is what I have got! I have used some twitter-related parlance such as tweets and mentions.

Guest Post- Retro-Day in the Life of Engineer Prateek

It was a typical summer day at the “Some Institute of Engineering and Technology” but the campus was exceptionally silent. The leaves rustled across the dust beaten cemented compound of the institute. The heat seemed to sizzle the institute's building and the peon checked his watch again. There was still an hour to go before he could ring the bell and announce the end of the examination. Through one of the windows, he noticed a student glance into his classmate’s answer sheet. He shook his head in repugnance. He had seen this year after year, the faces changed but the habits remained unchanged. Suddenly he heard shuffling of feet on the corridor and turned to look. He didn't expect any student to come out of the examination hall so early. He recognized the familiar face immediately. Thats the Bagri boy!! 

Prateek looked from his cell phone and found the peon staring at him. He just shrugged and started to climbed down the institute’s steps with his eyes still glued to his Sony Ericsson W705. He chuckled to himself while he scrolled down his twitter timeline. People can be unbelievably hilarious, he thought to himself. He tweeted,”Exam over. What a relief!" A second later,  ' Ping', he looked to check and found a mention 

Bollywood Ishtyle

After living in a country which has strived for almost two decades for something "cool", I have realized the true imitation potential of its citizens. Some choose to go public and some practice covertly. It isn’t easy to implant hypothetical genes of your favorite chocolaty actor or curvy actress inside your chromosomes. It requires a lot of practice, dedication and hard work but after you have successfully copied and created an identical ABC actor or a clone within yourself, now comes the time to flaunt your blatant act publicly. (But if implantation jeopardizes  the end results can hang you between bizarre and WTF is this? I'm not accusing Rohit Bal in any case here.) Assuming that majority have successfully completed the positioning of "alien" genes into their cells, it is now time for spectators to witness this turmoil (the exact word, though less brutal). The copycats always prejudice their AoI (Act of Imitation) as an unmatched manoeuvre, this momentarily happiness and modesty doesn't allow the "normal's" to break the jinx.

I never knew Chopra Uncle; my neighbor, was such an obsessive imitator of "Vijay Deenanath Chauhan." He would always croon his Father, Mother and Village name and his exact “age.” Apparently his DOB is his Facebook login password. I once saw him in a chat with Shobha aunty; Durgesh uncle's wife. But that is an off topic discussion. Chopra uncle has successfully managed to turn his family to a new and most widely practiced religion in India; bollywood. His wife had lately emerged as a strong Madhuri Dixit worshiper. She always seems to crave for a perfect day and every year selects holi to be the D-day for display of her AoI. Chopra aunty is found draped in a green Saree. When the maximum crowd is ogling her she start dancing on “Hum pe ye kisne hara rang dala.” Saree in his daughter’s wardrobe dictionary is an obsolete. According to her virtues; "draping self in a saree is so-not-like-Katrina" (Said in a fake UK accent). 

Interview: Osama Unplugged

Image courtesy- The Times of India 

With the assassination of world’s #1 most wanted terrorist, Osama Bin Laden; America is living in peace. Whining and winning go hand in hand, (let us say “Clinton—Bush” – “Obama.”) The only place which went with an atmosphere of non-celebration was journalist’s headquarters’ building. With a “dream” of interviewing Osama once in life died with Osama for them. They were left so much dishearten that channels had almost started showing the actual news. Then came a "boy" out of nowhere who posted Osama's interview on his blog; unreal, right!?!

"

He was sitting by the clouds when a care taker called Osama to attend a call from Earth for a special interview. Obama Osama went flabbergasted. Not expecting a fame call can make you go dumb, so got Osama. “Who are you? Human or Jihadi”, asked Osama. “Sir, I am a blogger who wants to interview you and make some money out of it” was his lame reply.

Open Letter to a Classmate

Dear classmate,


How are you? I hope you are “doing” fine. I am writing this letter to convey my sincere regards to you. I find these days of summers as the most promising time to pen my mind down to you perhaps because it will satisfy my itch to thank you for everything. It gives me immense pleasure to write to you. Please bear with me.

You can make me go to sleep, anytime!

It has been a long time, precisely few months less in a couple of year that I’m watching your face everyday just for the sake of attendance. It wasn’t long that you suddenly drift away from me and started your own “Anti-Me Campaign”; it was really heartening to see how hard you tried to expand your “jihadi” group which started from two and ended up with only one; you.


I want to clear my doubts with you in this post. I like the way you every time try to flaunt how cool you are against me. It makes me believe that “I’m also cool”. Blasting a bomb in college campus is not a heroic act rather I call it "kiddish." I had stopped doing this since I was in 8th standard, now it is boring. You call yourself a “beer frenetic” but you always avoid visiting a bar, even the one with the cheapest rates. You promised to throw a big lavish birthday party for your “friends” but were absent for straight 7 days from the date of your birthday (excluding Sunday). On the 8th day you gave your birthday treat as a “free” Corneto to everyone, of course except me.

The Great Comedy in Indian Shows

India television has been marked with eras. People go along the flow, entertainment is the basic entity. It doesn’t matter what kind of entertaining is being piled. Since I am a child of 90’s, the decade where India finally met and wed the globalization. A decade when Chetan Bhaghat was just an engineering aspirant, a decade which was marked with the release of the movie Border, a decade in which neither Uday Chopra nor Abhishek Bachchan thought to debut as a newcomer. As the time progressed TV shows categorized themselves—

Era of एकता में अनेकता 

Ever since I gained my cautious for the television, one, and the only name making headlines was Ekta Kapoor. Her reel dramas soon turned into real dramas. Time was not far when Indian husbands got severely retarded with the buckets sitting along the sofas to catch their wife’s precious tears. Mihir made a benchmark and Tulsi was making a perfect brain wash. Wives calling husband as “Mihir” created a perfect name jeopardy. “Suspecting husband” aka The Fa Deodrant effect also made  its place in the household works. Along with it brought handful amount of daily soaps which constraint housewives from cleaning entire house to only sofa and television set.

She (एकता कपूर, Sister/of तुषार कपूर, Daughter/of जितेंदर) ruled the world of drama for a long reign and finally her episodes started dying and eventually died (Law of Nature – Something which is born is ought to die). Women showed their great dismal, husbands now were getting breakfast and dinner on time, sons and daughter’s school visits were no longer procrastinated. Everything came back to normal (Women shares a different perspective).