Resolution and All

It has been 10 days since the New Year has arrived. It is 2012 and like a regular activity everyone has started framing their own New Year resolutions to make their life better. When I say everyone, it includes actors, politicians and various other inhuman kinds (Yes, yes the KRK types). With Jingle Bells still stuck into my head I have formulated a resolution list occupation wise which has enough potential to rescue India and more importantly Mankind.

Actors

Abhishek Bachchan – He is an impotent important man with potential, only potential or is it just the last name notching un-requisite weigh to the first name. Judging by the year 2011 and those which went by like a yawn in context of his career/acting, Bachchan must seriously consider learning the art of choosing. Script that sucks cannot earn.

Aamir Khan – You just need Complan shake to increase your height and then you won’t have to swallow the imminent camouflaged joke by Shahrukh. I am your big fan, hoping someday someone will turn out to be your big cooler.

Shahrukh Khan – Juxtaposition, Aamir listed above is the reason. There are so many people who want to make their unanimous honest confession. I gave them this blog post as a medium to express their heartfelt thoughts. I cannot type whatever they said, since I am in a public domain but the people who witnessed the phenomenon of Rs 132 Crores which you named as Ra.One are feeling uneasy to let you go after being subjected to a 4^th dimensional mental asylum that you created. Filing a lawsuit was most appealing them as a perfect buster and then Don2 happened. New thoughts are in process, will update you.

You must take a resolution to make movies which is little above the line of nonsense. If people can appreciate Golmaal then they will definitely look forward to yours.

.....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.

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?

Diagnose Holi

Picture Courtesy- Google

“Holi is the festival of colours.” We all have been taught this phase ever since we were little lollipop sucking cuties but as the time passed by this festival of colour also changed its meaning in Delhi. Now not much people show their inclination towards this festival much here, fortunately I too contribute in the majority. I don’t like getting out of my house. Yes, you heard it so correct – I restrain myself into my room. But this doesn’t mean I don’t like this joyful festival. I like it as much as people in Mathura do but the meaning behind this festive mood in Delhi has got a new face all together over past couple of years.


With the change of ode in understanding, a peculiar trend of celebrating Holi was born and is nourishing now at its full swing; I call it “Tacky Holi”. Celebrating Holi in some parts of Delhi baffles me. People either out of their sheer boring life or no-wife life makes this festival a festival of cries.
If you’re wondering what the heck, am I trying to testify or how does this anyhow relates my No-No for holi then let me enlighten you—


I have been closely tracking Holi from past two years; each year manifests my belief into a rigid concrete surface. Recently, Holi news that is making a stir is “Man threw Acid on Girl from his Pichkari”. Such headlines make me wonder, what the girl did. She was just walking by. People over-drink and pick up fights against any random pedestrian. This turns ugly when both of them abuse at the pinnacle of their heavy-broken-machine-alike-voices. It does not feels nice when family is near and loud abuses you have to bear, neither I can enjoy the street drama nor can I curse them. Eventually police embarks and cuts the roadside entertainment but this entertainment also leaves a question behind, what if you were a part of this street drama. Holi gives liability to touch and throw colours and balloons and this makes worse for girls. Street and sexual harassment are off the charts on this day of year.

A Date

My collection was vast

It was a call; last night when I ran into my store room, I didn't want my parents in adjacent room to pry out their sweetheart is talking late night with Someone. A messy and dusty room with a sweet mushy fragrance, that reminded me of something. I got too busy with my call that I almost forgot the fragrance. An hour long call ended. I was tired. Just before I was about to step out of the store room; that majestic fragrance again took over my sensitive nose and I sneezed mildly, mild enough to kill the sound in the room itself.


I looked around – a poster, an old calendar, dusty boxes with useless items were seen lying. But in the corner of the shelf I saw a pink colour box, big and heavy enough to bring me down to sweat. I was eager to see what was encased in it so carefully.


The pink colour box tightly taped. I somehow managed to rip the tape. A familiar “gun” appeared, "Mouser". Yes, I remember this gun. I shot my younger brother with this once. Later he told Mom and rest I don’t wish to discuss here. It was my toy box. Once Four sacks of toys were now somehow got reduced and now they occupy just a mere box. I rolled the box and all my toys were on the floor. Touching each of them was a sheer bliss, brought back everything which was shut in my solitude. Each toy opened a new storyline attached to it. By now I had started dabbling into a room of memories which was remote for quite some time.

Is That Eve-Teasing?

From my hazy memory I could sum up, it was the starting of 3rd semester when I with one of my friend went to Nai Sadak to buy some of our course books. Those who don’t know, Nai Sadak is well known and famous place in Delhi, you can find all course books over there. While returning back to Chandni Chowk Metro Station we took a short cut. The short cut was quite remote which we realized later.


We took a right turn and 5-6 meters ahead of us was walking a girl, constantly being followed by 2 local boys who were passing lewd remarks on her and were relishing it. Unaware of us they were time to time making their comment steep on the chart of lewdness. She was holding a poly-bag in her right hand and a bag was on her shoulder, seems she too was there to shop for books.


While walking by something shot into my solitude. "This is eve-teasing, right?" I questioned myself. I've read about it but never faced any situation quite like this. "How should I stop it?" was the next question. I told it to my friend, he too was concern. We cannot fight them like this. We needed to figure out something diplomatic urgently. And that was the time when an idea struck into my mind. We hurriedly went to the girl passing by the boys and started walking by her sides. At first she didn’t notice, perhaps because she was busy in figuring out how to get out of the mess she was in. Soon she noticed the halt in lewd remarks and two fellows walking along her sides and joking on their school life. The boys following her were still following us. I think it was instincts more than understanding that the girl realized, we were there just to help.


I passed a smile to her and she returned it back. Within no time we reached Metro Station. Not saying much she thanked us for our help. We parted our ways. She went off to catch a bus while I along with my friend took the Metro.


This was the first time I ever took such a step and perhaps the first time I ever saw eve-teasing and dared to intervene before it could turn ugly.

India is a country of Freedom but Freedom is at times taken in a sense of “Free-To-Do-Anything”.

This post was first published on "Stop Street Harassment" — 
Non confrontational intervention to stop eve-teasing in Delhi 

Did HE Make It Happen?

Chicken Soup for the Soul

Circa 2005—

It was late winters when a mere 15 year old boy was seriously clinched within the arms of a newly spreading viral disease. Unknown of this disease, it was mistook for a viral and the treatment was also done accordingly. 10 days later when fever seems to be unevenly trending and decreasing his parents in worry. A sudden outburst of nausea made his parents mind to take him to the nearest hospital. The boy kept asking what is going on with him but all his questioned were suppressed with a smile by his mother and were unanswered.

From my hazy memories I can tell it was the day of Diwali or a day before Diwali. Only some wardens and junior doctors were found. They weren't able to decipher, the actual cause of this uncanny behavior shown by the fever over past 10 days. After much of the examination they asked his parents to take the boy to home and come after 2-3 days but his mother wasn't ready to accept the idea and asked to admit him. After much of a conversation a Doctor showed up and started examining the boy. The boy went unconscious and doctor called it a case of emergency. Several blood tests later it was discovered that he wasn’t clinched by any ordinary flu it was Dengue. His parents were unable to gulp the fact that their piece of heart is resting with the most newly and deadly disease of the present time.

A sudden shock wave came when his platelets started dipping. The boy was struggling within his own solitude. He got an internal liver bleeding and was losing everything now. A healthy human being has 1, 50,000 to 4, 00,000 platelets count in his blood but the boy's platelets count dipped to 16000. Doctors called it off. His parents were told to take the boy with them, everything is going in vein. There wasn’t any use of giving him more platelets, already 6 packets were syringed into his body, also the machine use to segregate platelets from blood wasn’t nearby, his father has to travel 30 kilometers in chilly winter’s nights to get there. 

College isn't College Without Them

I dedicate this post to two people who supported me when I was in the middle of nowhere. Names are kept discreet and so are their faces.

It was my first day of college when They came up to me and asked firmly First year? I with a gently tone replied (which I shouldn't have) Yes. With a smile on their face They appreciated my modesty and said Chal ragging de, we're from second year. Considering that people might read my blog I won't mention what They made me do. PS: It still hurts. From the very first day I restrain myself, kept a very low profile when They were around, instead of taking the short way to canteen I use to travel the entire periphery of college, why? Because They were in my way to canteen. Screw Them, were the words which usually slips out of my tongue. Good morning Sir, good morning ma’am was the alloted greetings which I was asked to give them whenever They finds me. A semester passed away and still I had to show them my modesty. It was a perpetual question which I use to ask myself. My thoughts of uneven questions came to a halt soon during the End Terms examination for 2nd semester when sir and ma’am helped me with my bleak academics. My mind was perplexed after the latest helpful deed by Them. They not only provide me the notes but also cleared my concepts about the subject and marking scheme adapted by the university and freaking college. They’re good no They’re great as person. This was the first time I prejudiced someone and literally got wrong. Soon we started gelling up. We got perfectly blend into each other (I can see water in your mouth. I am not talking about samosa or bred pakoda).


My class is one heck of a place enriched with swine’s with a typical low mentality. Throwing a personal comment on me is their most enjoyable pass time. This vexes me, but someone (my Twitter Mom) once said to me “there is a limit to the number of dogs you can quiet... Let barking dogs bark at random....” Considering it as an apt philosophy for my college life I made a change into my attitude towards them, I call it—Ignorance a Bliss. Nice na!?!

Episode 2: Reunions After the Last Day

This post is a part of Episode 1: Glimpse from the Past. Specially written for four of my best friends who are often available here to comment (call it never). Again this post is the reflection of Bond that we share. 

Anecdote—

I was waiting for my bus to arrive at my bus stop. "Oh! Bhaiya bus aa gaye" Mohit claimed at sharp 7:25 A.M. Within no time the bus crossed Preet Vihar and there I was. I could hear the hustle and bustle coming out from the School Building as soon as the Bus # 1 entered the Main Gate. It was a normal day just like a normal Thursday until I realized Thursday February 7 is going to be the my Last Day at L.P.S. Though the realization was late and I still repent over it.

The joy of leaving the school for a new beginning of new Life filled me up. New College, new people, new place, It was all so exciting which over-shadowed the fact that one day I'll miss this place which I once cursed. The day kicked up with straight three period bunks perhaps the best bunk with them. We unwillingly attended physics lecture since we were all tired. “I need to feed my tummy”, said Akshit. And like a good friend I snatched his lunch box and ate all his bread jam. My body shivers down the spine when I try to recall what that jerk did to me after he clinched me, if you’re curious to know what his actions were, well trust me you don’t want to see you’re being fitted perfectly between the two benches, do you? After learning about his animal-like strength I always irritates him, his inhuman acts gives a perfect back massage.

We for Vodka

This is an On Demand post. Meant to reflect the bonds of friendship.

I reached home at about 8 P.M. All tired. Struggling not to let unconsciousness to take over my mind but steadily I was slipping into this endless peaceful world.


Mom - So late!?! Seems my child has been working a lot at college.
Me - Hmm...
Mom - So when did you left for home?
Me (weak tone) - Mum I'm tired, I am going to bed.
Mom - Haan?? You haven't taken anything into your stomach. How could you think that I'll possibly let you go to sleep?
Me (ignorance) - I'm dozing off. Wake me at 7 in morning.


What actually happened that morning—


From what I could hazily sum up– I was heading towards my college when I got a call from Gaurav (my best pal, I thought so), asking me to disembark from the Metro as soon as possible.

A Fun Day Out

Though I was about to write and post it the very next next moment I stepped into my room but curse my lethargic and lame body which didn't allowed me turn ON my PC and start typing on MS Word. So I delayed this post. Now, when I am here, let us begin -


"

It was the of an upcoming wedding which brought us all together after such a long time.

1 PM, Mom announced a visit to mall for shopping. As directed to us (Me, my brother and my Dad), we dressed up as fast as we could and all headed towards the Mall. I always had a strong feeling that going to a Mall with parents isn’t a good idea. This ideal shopping idea turned into a reality when my Mom say so many Couples altogether at the same time. Instead of ignoring she was constantly staring them. Soon she diverted her attention towards me and questioned—
Do you have a Girlfriend? Baffled me. With a flustered state of mind and slippery tongue I answered N….n..n…..noo! Expecting a straight and firm reply from her sweetheart, instead she got a weak answer which confirmed her suspect into a half reality. Every single time she crosses a couple her raised eyebrow scares me. What would be her next question was haunting me all the time.

Memories Revisited

Human beings are mirror that reflects the definition imperfect and not always in control. We desperately strive to defeat these realities and unfortunately are doomed to fail. Even when five people each see the same thing they often disagree on what they saw. Perception is colored by perspective, geographical position, eyesight, personality, beliefs, past experiences, and especially emotions. We see file photographs and often summarize and classify them or witness exactly what we have experienced already, giving a sudden flash of old memories from Subconscious Mind, this sudden outbreak of memories is Déjà vu.

__________

Every time I pass by a park, I see children playing.  It halts me. I sit down on the green grass. Ah! They smell same as they used to when I was a kid. I see them playing on Sea-Saw, encasing them in mud moderately mixed with water giving a brisk effervescence of that heavenly smell which again revived those  everlasting days. I once again saw myself in that boy with blue Tee and denim shorts. Jumping off from Jungle Tree, sliding down from Giraffe.

Yes, I use to be exactly like that little Me—

Anecdotes — Chronicles of my Life

Those Were The Days

Those were the blissful days. Days’ when being nonsense was just innocence, the word relationship was only limited to Mother – Son – Father, days’ when there was no gender, caste or society difference, race was always suppose to be a Race in a field with starting line and finishing line, choosing a crayon was a distress instead of career, 1 + 2 = 3 were the toughest mathematics problem rather than integration and differentiation. Snuggled in dust and mud, almost every day ripping off jeans and shorts at the park, turning white school shirt into light brown. Neighbors complaining— look Mrs. Kiran your darling son has yet again ended up breaking my window pane. I wonder how can he always aim at my house? Making excuses to Mom, every weekend an action figure from Dad, skinned knees, sharing lunch, fights for the window seat in the bus, thrill of upcoming festivals leaving in frenzy. Beside all these, gelling up with some anonymous friend of friend so easily was the best part. Mario and Taken 3 were the best entertainment which one could possibly get. Perhaps was a farewell for me. Fights with my younger devil brother like there is no tomorrow. And how can I forget his exquisite emotionally blackmailing tactics. We were always opposite to each other, like two poles of a magnet. But yes we thoroughly enjoyed our Bachpan. Ice-creams and chocolates were used to be my 7 course meal of all time; I mean who doesn't like to get dipped into the world of Ice-cream. 

Multi – Ambition, each new morning gave me a new ambition to ride upon. From an astronaut to a farmer. Apparently life never lets you be what you exactly wanted to be. I also do remember my first ever crush on my teacher. And now when I look back then I realize Ah! I was too once a kid. Yes everything revived. I remember my toys, which are still my possessions, I remember the old Cartoon Network. Perhaps things have changed now. At times I think and feel proud to be a part of such a classic era which eventually ended. Left a deep impression in heart and joyful memories back in my Subconscious Mind. I still momentarily give a profuse random thoughts to go back into those blissful days and thwack the ground.

Whenever I dive into the world of these nostalgic anecdote, I end up staring at some random girl giving me a furious look and yes a small lump in my throat.

v  

| This post is participating in the BlogAdda contest with the theme “Sporting Memories”. The contest is sponsored by myntra.com.

Episode One: Glimpse from the Past

This post is dedicated to my School Life and would definitely revive the fall of year 2008 in my memories.

I started as a 4 year old boy from Yojna Vihar. Place with an aura of being protected all the time. Soon after my 5th grade I was transfered to P.D Vihar.  

I could barely sum up my memories of my years at Middle Wing and early Senior Wing, they are hazy but not worth to remember, they weren't much pleasant.

Class XI C: New to all

This was a high time for everyone. All I could see was Nimish Girdhar and Yashdeep Singh killing their time doing some FIITJEE Assignments. 'They'll surely crack IIT' Sahil said. 

And you are? Hi I am Sahil Sahni from 10th F and you? I'm Prateek from 10th H. Oh! Roohi M'am section. Yep.

Soon our class teacher Mr. Deepak Diwan entered. 'What is he?' was the first question that popped into my mind at that very instant. Though he turned out to be quite Intellectual for the aspiring IIT'ians and Friendly for people like Me. Mechanical Drawing was our extra chosen subject which left No Girl in our class. There were three girls who opted for MD but they decided to only enter XI C when Ashok Sir is already in the class.

48 students in XI C and not even a single girl!?! Was the question humming the Ground Floor.

'Damn no girl, how would we live for two years' Abhineet Verma asked Me. I preferred to keep my mouth shut instead of answering 'Sahi keh raha hai yaar!'

3 months were already passed and I was still staring at FIITJEE's assignment, this time it was Work, Power & Energy which Karan Munjhal was holding very proudly in one hand, his another hand was preoccupied by FIITJEE CPP and mouth with his Rotomac 045 pen, trying to ask an 'I' level problem from Yashdeep. Weird, he could barely call out Yashdeep's name.

- During Recess standing opposite to Cycle Stand near the Main Gate was my group's favorite spot. Varun Khanna Akshit Dhiman and Bipul Biswas were in a habit to beat the crap out of me since they were my prime subjects to joke upon. Though Varun was a Busy Recess Lad but still he manages to kick me to satisfy himself.

P.S There were much more important things for Varun to do in recess. Exploration around the Mini Appu Ghar or in front of Handball Net were his most focused spots.

It was all Boys class and by now we were familiar with each others. Bunks, Hooting and Pranks were common now. 'Boyz this time we had to do something big' Mohit Dev Sharma shouted in a high pitch voice. What? What? Should we do now, we're already bored with Poplu - The Other Mathematics Teacher. 

Maybe we should all sing a song and after a gap of 3 seconds Mohit started singing, within 2 seconds the whole class joined him in a chorus.

tum toh thehre pardesi - 2 saath kya nibahaaoge 
chorus:
(tum toh thehre pardesi saath kya nibhaaoge) - 2
Mohit:tum toh thehre pardesi saath kya nibahaaoge 
chorus:
tum toh thehre pardesi saath kya nibhaaoge
Mohit:tum toh thehre pardesi saath kya nibhaaoge 
subaha pehli - 3 gaadi se ghar ko laut jaaoge
Chorus: 
subaha pehli gaadi se ghar ko laut jaaoge
Mohit:tum toh thehre pardesi saath kya nibhaaoge 

Soon it could be heard at Reception too. Mrs. Nijhawan - The Senior Wing Incharge, came running through the corridor in search of something unusual. She entered XI C 'What the heck is this, a fish market?' From the backseat Vijay Mohan replied 'Yes'. Which resulted in a 3 period punishment - 'Stand on desk with hands raised' said the In-charge. XI C became the center of attraction for everyone passing through the corridor and we were prouldy standing on desks with hands half raised. Soon XI C was involved in most of the chaos done on the Ground Floor. In-Charge advised Class Teacher to do what he can. But as usual 20 minutes of lecture on social well-being and responsibilities by Diwan sir had to go in vein and so it did.
Soon this year passed out and XI C  now got evolved to XII C

Class XII C: The Legacy Continues

XII was also no different from what we've been doing in XI. This time the entire ground floor sings with us, leaving no trace that XII C started their Anthem. Though yet I wasn't able to figure out FIITJEE but I understood one thing Nimish and Yashdeep cannot think beyond Parabola, Ellipse, Kinematics, Semi-Conductors and most important Redox Reactions. 'This was 2007-08 batch which is going to appear for boards' said Vice-Principal to the Principal in a Monday morning assembly. Tomorrow you all will get your Board Roll No. soon after The Hawan, Principal made the announcement. 'Yeah, baby we are going to get our Roll No's for real tomorrow' Varun shouted at me, I think he was elated?!. 'I'm scared' Akshit softly spoke into my ears with a trembling voice which made me go down on my knees. 'Akshit are you nuts or crazy, choose any one of them which suits you the best' Bipul said in an uneven loud shaky voice. I think he is Nutazy. Hahaha Prateek you dog you cracked us again- They said in unison. Soon it was 1:30 P.M, dispersal time.
'Kal aa raha hai na? Meri Pen Drive leta hua aaeyo, kuch daal bhe diyo usmei. Kya? Kuch bhe Jodha Akbar k gaane daal laaeyo.
These were my last words for Varun on Wednesday Feburary 6 to which he replied positively and rushed towards the Main Gate to Explore. Akshit shaked my hand in Bro style and left for his home with his Avon Mountain'ing Bicycle. As for Bipul, he was coming with me to Bus # 1.