Friday, December 30, 2011

The Good Ol' Days

Winter vacations at my home Balasore. The time is festive and the freezing weather owing to an approaching storm ‘THANE’ has brought the chill down a little bit. This time of the year has always been full of cheer and some nostalgia that has taken up some of the memory space in the confused circuits of my brain. Nevertheless, I am sitting on my bed in the house we are soon going to vacate and wondering about all the bitter-sweet reminiscences that have transpired in forming those memoirs till now.
Chilly winters have always spelled doom upon my health. Yesternight, as I quietly lay down on my bed, I was suddenly transported to the time in my past where I would wake up at unearthly hours at night and create a commotion by coughing my lungs out uncontrollably. When things went out of hand and my parents were ascertained that I would actually fracture my ribs by coughing so violently, they took me to the best doctor they could. Of course, the doc was an angel in disguise, vowed to make my life easier (which he did), I got a nice little Christmas present in my prescription- vials of Penidure injection (for 4 years thereafter). Frankly, I lost the count after being administered more than 150 injections.
I don’t know how these dreams played a part in your life but I consequently woke up with a bad stomach at 3:30 in the morning and spent some quality time with me sitting on the commode till 4 o’ clock.
Anyways, the point that I was trying to make was the transition period between Christmas and New Year has always been special (for us small town people) sitting at ease at home or with friends and munching away cakes, sweets, sipping hot chocolate or having pakodas with tea and playing the couch potato. It`s always a swell time to remember the ‘good ol’ days’. Well, this time I don’t have much people around and so I thought to harass you guys with some of my crude literary prowess. ( :P )
The day my conscious mind took control of my memory, I recall my papa shaving in the morning staring into the mirror and my maa, her hair untied, wet and flowing, shiny black. The Chitrahar were already a part of our mornings and would be playing in the background on our old ‘BUSH’ TV. If there was a power cut, papa would play the PHILIPS tape-recorder and it would fill the room with old songs and melodies. I made some favorites right back then in Kishore da and Kumar Sanu.
There were some very fond thoughts in the past. Try connecting these incidents and memories and see how you had lived those glorious experiences and escapades.
Remember the first time you were out in the rain? I wasn't allowed in the rain for the fear of catching a cold. (Even these days I don’t have the luxury of going out in the rain or eating an ice-cream in the winters. I secretly think the people who do these are either nuts or have super-powers.) Still, one fine day, I sneaked out of the house into the open fields where I danced in joy till my legs hurt. (Not due the dance. I got struck in a ditch and my mom had to come and pull me out of it.) Nonetheless, I enjoyed it very much. I hope you had a better experience at this than me.
Then there were these times. Remember going ecstatic when you saw a train for the first time? Amazed when you saw the engine honking a deafening sound and coming towards you while you were on the platform? Sitting in the bogie for the first time and demanding the window seat? I am sure your papa must have definitely said this to you “Beta, dekho trees sab piche jaa rahe hai.
The first time you actually sat on the seat and pedaled your cycle…How was it? Feeling it right now? First time you held a cricket bat and your mom bowled to you? First time slogging and wishing it was your first SIX? First diving attempt to hold on to a spectacular catch and then everybody going gaga over the great effort?
Dancing like mad when there was nobody in the room? Stealing chocolates, cakes, even ice to lick on a summer afternoon from the fridge?
How many of you remember eating 8 puchkas (golgappas/paanipuri) in 2 rupees and friends constantly begging you to give them 1?
How do you remember the DHARA ad where the boy was leaving his home and his grandpa told him that jalebi had been prepared? Boy did he say “JALEBI!” Or for that matter, sitting glued to DD1 every Sunday to watch SINDBAD THE SAILOR and MOWGLI back to back? How much time since you saw the airing of “Mile sur mera tumhara…” or heard “YAKKU!” from Kroor Singh in Chandrakanta?
Common! Remember yourself walking on the railway tracks longest as a challenge your friend had dared you to do? Remember having the thoughts to leave your home after faring bad in final exams? Well, I had similar thoughts after the class 3 exams and decided to jump onto a goods train on the railway crossing near our house. I reckon Chhotu was with me then. He`s 2 years older to me but I call him by his name as he`s a brother to me. Apparently, he had similar plans too after his class 5 final exams. So we hopped on to a stationary goods train in the hope of leaving this town for good and sat atop the pile of stones in the goods wagon. What happened was, we ran out of discussing all our future plans after we would have left this town and 2 hours later were bored out of our skins when the train hadn't budged a tiny bit. And so, we decided to do it some other time and left for our homes, cursing the train till we got there.
There was literally no terms as tension and responsibility. We were free! In fact, the only time I felt tension and responsibility was the time when my mom would, almost with an iron will, decide to make me sit down with the ‘scholarship’ book and threatened not be given any food or let out to play until I had crammed up the names of all of the countries, their capitals, their currencies, the UN secretary generals, abbreviations..blah blah blah!
Okay now! How many landline numbers of your friends do you remember now?  Remember the time when you did and needed to ask permission from your mom to call up your friend only to talk about ‘studies’? And who could forget the fun when you talked with mysterious people and yelled “Wrong Number!” Of course, it is no fun now.
The high time of my childhood was dedicated to Chacha Choudhury, Billoo, Pinky, Nagraj, Dhruv, Doga, Superman, Spiderman et al. Plus the desperation in laying my hands on the joystick of the TV videogames like Mario, Contra, Tank! I would sneak out of my house every afternoon and crash at Chhotu`s place for begging him to let me play as a double player. And yes I was the first person everyday to reach the video-game shop in front of our school and returned home late every single day with excuses. I am not proud of it but I don’t regret it either.
I can`t seem to close the chapter on those childhood memories close to me but those are past and ever will be. Love, life and dreams although unrealistic, were always full of yearning and honest. No amount of scolding, beatings or failures could make us deviate from what we wanted to do.

Drowning in the pool of nostalgia, my eyes have closed to see through my mind, my past, its carefreeness, its honesty, its simplicity and its childishness.
  As I write, I am seeing my idols, my deities of worship- my parents- hair growing white, wrinkles on the face… I mean, you DO NOT ever want to realize that time has taken a toll on them too. They shouldn't grow old as you grow big. You have never thought about seeing them any different than their looks in their wedding album. They still seem the same to you-the same when you were throwing your umpteenth tantrum and they would chase after you catching your ears, carrying you in their arms, feeding you with their hands and holding your little fingers when you were scared of crossing the road. It`s a bit of an irony how I sometimes wanted to jump to an age I am now in when I was 8 or 9 years old, not having to get scolded or mug up the lengthy multiplication tables. Oh! How I wish to go back to those times and relive it yet once again, knowing utterly well, they won`t ever come back- the ‘good ol’ days’.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Aaj Ki Taaza Khabar!


Namashkar! Aaj ke bulletin me aapka swagat hai. Hum aapko batayenge aaj ek sansanikhez raaz!



Iska dil kahin nazar aa raha hai?
1.Kya aliens chura rahe hai aapki gaaye (cows)? Kya prithvi se door koi peeta hai doodh?

2.Dhoni ka 12 inch dilwayega India ko world cup! Dhoni ka asli pyaar hai doodh aur ande!

3. Bhagwan ke liye dekhiye T.V! America me music video par macha bawal.

4.Mumbai bomb dhamako me  kabootaro (pigeons) par granade ka keher.

Before you make any assumptions, I`m sure you`d heard these lines before, I must clarify that these quotes, rather headlines, have graced the T.V screens of millions of homes across India, thanks to the ‘Desi-Media’. With the advent of globalization, modernization and the incoming of the landslide down the slope of mass media and the internet, none can blame the media for trying numerous and varied antics for becoming numero-uno in the present rat race of the umpteen news channels who put on show in full gore.

And what better antics than to just ‘spice things up’?

Mass communication and journalism is the hottest cake now. And the ‘desi media’ have just opened a nayi naveli dukaan to wholesale it out of proportions. Sensationalism is the stallion that is driving the ‘desi-media`s’ band-wagon these days. It`s just the horse power that is different in different channels.

Here`s a fun activity. Say, you need to stay awake for sometime past midnight to finish off your work, but you are feeling sleepy already. Well, wait for the gong of the clock in your grandpa`s room strike 12. Grab the remote control of your T.V and tune it to…INDIA TV!

Presto! You magically see people awake on the channel and even manage to spot the guy looking like a copy of a bald Mogambo with a long vermillion teeka on his forehead. And if you wait for a bit more, you`ll find out his grandpa too ( :p ) – some witch doctor clad in a shabby, all black gown with a  caveman beard and a tone like that of the footpath-fortune tellers when they try to brainwash their customers.

Bhaago bhaago! Bhoot aya!
It`s guaranteed to have two outcomes. (1) You`ll get a shock and/or scared of the lunatic on the screen in nothing but a black robe talking of ghosts and spirits in the midnight and how the planets conspire to wreak doom on you  if you don’t pay heed to them. Combine them with the background musical of frogs croaking and the noise made by the crickets in the night and poof…you`ll be wide awake!  (2) In case it`s not your first time watching those guys, You`ll laugh you guts out and roll on the floor. Now you`ve lost sleep!

I thought superstitions and omens had become of lesser importance to the aam-aadmi as he tried to get himself educated. What I realized was that watching these types of channels, superstitions and omens have gained a greater euphoria with the aam-aadmi, when he tried to get a little bit more educated and keep himself more ‘informed’, thanks to these newsmongers.

That`s not all. Some of us, if not all, are irritated to the extremes of the ways they serve the news on the platter. Try remembering the annoying male voice which tries to describe the content of news in the making. There might not even be an event worth reporting, but they would make a mountain of a molehill. You might get an idea of what I am talking about when I tell you this.

The news to be given- ‘delhi  ke 1 ghar me mili 1 laash. Inevstigation ke mutabik khooni ka pata lagaya jaa raha hai.’

But… the saga unfolds as-
Hila dene wala video matlab???

Fir dehel uthi aaj delhi’

Desh ki rajdhani pe fir giri bijli.

Maut ke aatank se dare hue hai dilliwasi.

Delhi ke 1 yuvak ki hatya se dehel utha delhiwaalo ka dil.

Hum kar rahe hai jurm ka parda-faash!

Hum aapko batayenge 1 sansanikhez khabar jisse kaamp uthegi aapki rooh…khade ho jayenge aapke rongte!

Then after 55 minutes of this nonsense melodrama including the commercials, they oblige the viewers by saying:

Humara  shaq hai ki yahi aadmi hai is hatya ke pichhe ka vehshi darinda par abhi kuchh kehna mushkil hai. Janne ke liye dekhte rahiye humara news channel!’

And only god knows how many people on this peninsula might have said ‘Iski maa ka @#$%! Inko abhi tak shaq hi hai?!’  in unison at that moment.

Well, the other news channels are no less and they sure know how to outdo each other. To tell the truth I read the papers for the info but watch these hilarious news channels just for the sake of fun. But you certainly can`t avoid them outright because they all have become ‘sabse tez’ in delivering the info right when you need it.

Even our PM has said this and I quote, “…An atmosphere has been created in the country - and this I say with all humility – the role of the media today in many cases has become that of the accuser, the prosecutor and the judge”. The media has infringed, infiltrated and invaded all possible spheres of occupations, privacy of the people and all impenetrable places on the planet.

Par yaar! Kuchh bhi karo…Plz INDIA TV pe uss content reader ko koi goli se uda do! Haddh hai yaar! Matlab…kaise bhi…kuchh bhi bakwas!?

Jai hind.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

A hope for redemption

I vividly remember the day when I first fell in love with this game. My father bought me a miniature version of a ‘POWER’ bat which I was barely able to wield at that time. I actually had no idea what it was for. To be precise, I was barely two and a half years of age when this event occurred.

There was this place near my school where I used to stay when I was first admitted to the nursery. I have crystal memories of the time when my mum would make someone in my neighborhood bowl at me and then she would hold my hands in hers and make the bat swing, completing the slogging of the ball over the neighbor`s compound. I would be ecstatic!

I would drag mum out of her daily chores and force our maid to throw a plastic ball at me while I rejoiced my new found love of swinging the willow wildly. I wasn`t allowed to do it inside our home, so I would get out in the open and after hitting the ball, run to fetch it myself, give the ball to the maid and then resume the routine.

There was a TV in our home probably 10 years old or so. I saw Srinath taking a tough running catch and tumbling over in the field as he held on to the catch, an English batsman paying the price for a lofted heave. My eyes lit with magic as I saw him running like mad after taking the brilliant catch. And then there I was, the following evening, telling my mum to throw me diving catch where I could do the same. As per my mum, I would first run to the ball, catch it first, deliberately tumble over and then run around screaming for having accomplished the impossible catch.

When I turned 5, we moved to a place quarantined from the main hub of activity in the town. Open fields, grazing cattle, ample fruit bearing trees of all species, lone roads, 6-7 houses besides ours, fear of thieves, unforgiving mosquitoes, and solidarity- Oooh! I loved this place…though my parents thought otherwise. To top it all, I soon found out boys of my own age living nearby. What more than to discover they were all cricket-fever stricken chaps and I too was more than happy to have been bitten by the same bug. We chums, guys of my age, would parade to the luscious and green meadows with bats and balls where there weren`t any houses within our range, each and every day for 8 memorable years. My papa knew how much mirth I gained while playing this game, he never objected to nor ever bound me by any restriction of playing my heart out. He was in fact proud of me, I felt.

I soon discovered the batsman in me and would bat for long innings, sometimes too long that my friends wouldn`t allow me to bat before they all got out first. I admired Rahul Dravid and wholeheartedly reverend his style and class of batting.  I would spend all my afternoons emulating him, shadow practicing in front of our house. Heck, I even made the front of my house a cricket stadium. The white and blue painted walls then wreaked of black and brown round spots all over the place within a couple of months. I would even play in the field under the hot sun at 2o’clock. My mum would come with the ‘belan’ and chase me out of the ground or if my luck would run out, I would get a sound thrashing in front of the other kids too! The occasional breaking of the neighbor`s windows, the windshield of a car or two, destroying a beehive and then being avenged by the bees, shattering the glass of our own TV and then going to the hospital to get the pieces of glass out of my heel, releasing all the cattle of our milkman ‘by mistake’ in a valiant effort to get the ball out of a cow`s fodder…it was all in a day`s work! And yes I forgot the part where I let loose my pet dog after a boy bigger than me in size, when he threatened me and refused to return my 1st tennis ball.

Of course my mum never let me play before I completed my homework (or so I pretended everyday for 8 years). I would do anything in my mind to make sure I was on the field and batting. This game meant more to me than anything else. It had become my life, my source of survival and happiness.

We came down to our new place of residence, where we presently live. I was shocked when I first came into the locality. No open fields, no trees, narrow roads…I hated the place at first. I would cycle my all the way back to where I previously stayed and continued playing there for an year. In the mean time I saw the locals of my own place playing in a confined space, in the lawn of the government Inspection Bungalow. I started playing with them thereon. I was welcomed gladly in place where I was still a ‘kid’. It was a confined space and I had to adapt my style to suit the turf and the limited space. The situation demanded a variety altogether in my stance and approach; I was virtually two timing-one in the small lawn and the other in the limitless greens.

I discovered my batting prowess in these later years. Wide array of shots in my repertoire, a signature leg glance, hooks, pulls, drives…and the list goes on. I even grew as a dependable fielder and improved quite a lot over time. I started playing in each and every nook and corner of our town, with people twice my age, people with little acquaintances sharing a common interest, far and near stadiums…I was everywhere and everyone in the town who played a little bit of cricket knew me well. Cricket had become my identity, more than my passion. I would play a lot of matches and would even bunk a boring tuition to bat for my team elsewhere. And the credit for hitting a 6 in the last ball of a match as the winning runs lives with me forever. I was at my zenith!

I spent my entire 2 years of my college wandering about the town, having played in nearly all the fields and all the guys in the place. But life has it`s own way of clipping your wings when you fly too high; and when you soar high, the fall has it`s own toll. Came May 07, the month when all hell broke loose upon me. All my life`s luck ran out in the following days when my board results were declared. I had scored worse than I had expected. The results were unexpected on my part and then to add salt to the wounds, I had scored disastrously in each of the entrances. I was at dire straits. The final hammer on the nail was hit by my mum when she out of the blue blamed my playing cricket to be one of the causes. I was shattered. Of all the things I didn`t think there was a single iota of doubt that it was not the case as my mum was putting it into. Maybe I was too complacent in my attitude towards the board or some other things best known to me, but I couldn`t find how playing cricket 4 days a week could cause that. Mum retorted to a similar explanation of mine by saying, “If you played so much of the game all these years, what are you doing here in my house? You could have got selected somewhere and playing there now instead of standing here in front of me”.

This statement was a point blank headshot from a shotgun. I was left stunned and went into a very serious contemplation of the fact my mum had said in her fit of desperation. Tears came out of my eyes and I walked through the door quietly. It stung me pretty bad and I was left in a daze for a few days; all love lost and my mind playing blame games with all the reasons which had contributed to this event. I cursed myself for letting my love gain freedom for this game which was inseparable from me…till now. Whatever the reasons, I began to believe that this might be a reason for my fall. Since that day, I lost some of my lustre. Cricket was just a game for me now.

I still play the game with all my heart but with a crippled variety of shots and a complacent aggression. I still play matches with friends in the same small lawn but for the sake of fun, not for the sake of testing my paranoia for the game and we have great time. Years have passed by since then when I had played my best game. I left the game which made me, but I found out that I am altogether a different personality when I am in a field and playing; I despise myself for  not having that flair in me off the field what I have on the ground.



Even now, whenever I hold a willow in my hand and look at a bowler charging towards me, I have a surge of adrenaline rush through my body and give everything into the charisma and stroke of my bat…and a vision of the ball already out of the park sailing into the blue…just like the old days. The dream lives on…A hope for staying in love, a hope for salvation…A hope…for redemption.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Stuck again in exams!


School life has every one of us yearning for more of the same time in our life back again. Heck! Some of us are plain enchanted never to let go of the time of our lives spent in the brick-red and beige compound of the school campus. We have a lot of memories of the contented past of St. Vincent`s Convent School carved out of steel in the form of an arc with a metal board by its side with the listing of the school`s timing on its front side and the line ‘Avoid Casual Sex’ on its back. I bet you haven’t forgotten that yet.

Well, spending 13 years of my childhood in the school, there were at least 39 times during which I had a feeling of nausea, gloom and terror on my face. Yep! The 3 terminal exams each year. But each time I came out alive! I must be Hercules!

Common guys! I am not the only one who`s been through this phase! To tell the truth, I had been run down by fever in the months of August, November and March… every year! My mum was naturally worried about this exceptional disease I had contracted. The doc prescribed me 6 bottles of a syrup I had to drink thrice everyday! Miraculously, my ‘disease’ had gone for good after the full course of gulping them down one by one. It was then my mum told me that I probably had fever due to my exams because inconspicuously it always started on the day they begun and always ended with the last exam. I was appalled…and amused at the same time. There have had been no problems after that though, leaving me with no excuse to offer whatsoever for my deteorating percentages! What a sham!

But seriously, I still reckon those days when I went to write my exams dressed hurriedly, with neatly ‘champak’ styled hairdo, perched on my cycle, pedaling furiously to reach at the time after which the guard wouldn`t let me in. Interestingly, the scenario of a situation like that always captured my mind. Hey! How many do u remember?

1.       Demanding new pencils, erasers, sharpeners and rulers before every terminal.

2.      A pack of new crayons or water colours before each Drawing exam.

3.     A new geometry box, neatly arranged with a sticker at the back telling it is yours.

4.     Ink pens and Gel pens all refilled and quenched because of the threat that the teachers wouldn`t give any marks if we wrote with a ballpoint pen.

5.     Your mum constantly nagging you to Read! Read! Read!

6.      Memorizing the poems for the questions in the 2nd optional.

7.      Your tuition master bent on making you swallow all the notes as a whole so that you can puke it in the paper all in one go.

8.    Writing the names of the poets and their works on the pitch-board and on the palms for Hindi/Oriya paper…”Ye panktiya kis kavita se li gayi hai? Kavi ki vyakhya kijiye.” God! I hated those questions!

9.      Playing cricket with the pitch-board and a plastic ball in the 1 hour recess between 2 sittings.

10.   Bringing 2-5 rs for mixture, puchka or ice-cream during that time.

11.  Messing with your rickshaw-wallahs.

12.   In the exam hall; turning around and seeing who the hell needed the 1st additional for the day.

13.   Going to the toilet on purpose just to see who was doing what in their respective classes and then exchanging giggles on the way back.

14.  Sneaking chits out from below the pitch-board, from your socks, shoes, the hollow inner of your necktie, your belt and hell yeah- from your underwear as well!

I was caught a certain time in class 6 trying to copy answers from a friend. The invigilator, a new teacher, wrote down my name on a piece of paper and then took me to our principal. Our principal called me in her office and asked me why I cheated.  I told her frankly that I had a weakness in the subject and feared that I wouldn`t do well if I had not done so. I was expecting a rather rough ride ahead with her threatening to call my parents. But I guess my lucky stars were all aligned correctly that day. As my punishment, I heard this from her,” Come, join your hands and pray that you wouldn`t do it again.” Hell yeah I was going to do it again if I knew the punishment would be this!
15.  Ever called your friend for copying his answers and realizing that the teacher was watching you the whole time without a comment?


16.  And then after the final exam being over, waiting near the mango tree or the cycle stand for every one to assemble and then discuss the plans for the next 15 days to come.

It`s fascinating to notice how granted these events were in those times; today somebody had to point them out to rejoice them…once again. Adios school days; the exams especially.

Friday, June 3, 2011

For all i know...


What really is a relation?
Loving, caring, standing up for each other, supporting in times of despair? Considering as someone as your own, someone special, someone for whom you can serve your heart out on a platter and feed it to the gods…You wouldn`t let anything dreadful happen to him/her just because you share a relation? Would you?  

Then what the heck is the friendship? Where in hell did that come from? Is it any different? Isn`t it what you would do as mentioned earlier if he/she were just friends and not related? Is it not a relationship shared by 2 distinct bloods? Then why deliberately misunderstand the similarity between them? Treat them as different? 

For me, relations at a certain level have lost their meaning and they have abysmally forsaken me. They have lost their worth. I have ventured into my world; faced trickery and deceit in galore. Relatives u call them? Friends? Never! Lucky enough never to have been betrayed by a friend.  Until now. They don`t need to control my life; neither do they want to mould my emotions into something they would want for their own devious intentions.  They let ME be ME. I have my own space, my freedom, my opinions, my sky, my roof, my world…my life! The ‘my’ has no selfish allusion here, rather a larger than life attribute. ‘MY’ friends! I am a bit selfish in this matter though.


Friendship is the same as being related. It`s just a whole new angle of viewing things, changing perception. What are you to your father? A loving son? A caring daughter? Or just a generation down the ladder, loathing the age group above you for having a different mindset? We often bring out our own theories of differences .Just for our own convenience. Try being a friend to your father and you`ll know what differences. This goes the other way round too. For all I know, love is bound, friendship is not. You get an entirely unique perception of analyzing people and situations through this.



Experience it! Love in life has no greater significance if you don’t know how to express it. For a guy who likes to ride his own emotions alone, only a person who loves him unconditionally can be the angel of his locked heart. She`s like a friend first and then a person who has a greater access to his soul. It`s wonderful if the role played is the other way round, no problems there, but before you realize, the love though all faithful and warm can be smothering sometimes. Your mind plays tricks on you, urging you to break the shackles and run away as fast as you can from the same love which gave you sensitivity in your life. Believe me, it’s your ‘Ego’ and not your ‘Inner Voice ‘ telling you to do so. A relation is no more than captivity sans friendship. You just have to hang in there a little longer to give it a chance. A friend is all you need in the love of your life to grow old with, happily walking down the life-lane, knowing you have somebody by your side equally eager and happy.

At some point of your life, you`ll face a similar situation. It`ll time to ask yourself the same question…Are you a friend first...?

Friday, May 27, 2011

Kangaroo!

I embarked on foot a rather soothing evening today, with the rain having made the unrest of the hot day calm. I actually had to take refuge under the tin roof of a shop near Permit Field. Piyush, who accompanied me on the stroll, took out his cell phone startled by the vibration in his pants…

 “Dude! Sardar apna password kya rakhte hai bol”

“Sardar?” , I said, scratching my head.

“Incorrect!”, he retorted.

“What did I say now?”, I was confused even more.

“Abey, their password is ‘INCORRECT’, taaki jab wo koi galat password  de toh wahan reply aaye  - PASSWORD –INCORRECT!”

We couldn`t help cackling enough to realize people noticing us.
But it surely sent a train of thoughts down my mind then. Try and remember the first time you tried to think of a smart password for your e-mail id or chat client. Not easy as you thought, you realized? In my case,suddenly I had this brainwave and lifted up the mouse-pad on the desk . “CORTEX,  hmm… good one”. And so my first password became CORTEX6489…yeah some alphanumeric crap. I didn`t know what else to think! This other time I asked my sister to create an e-mail id when I was in class 7…turned out, when she asked what password I would like to add on, I quietly took the keyboard to myself and typed some letters in a jiffy. Of course, the passwords didn`t match during the confirmation! Worse, my sister says, “Give me the keyboard idiot…Now what was the girl`s name you were typing? This time say it letter-by-letter.” I 
saw a sweat trickle down my smiling face in a room temperature of 16 degrees.

I never had problems forming new passwords since then. I could create ‘fireash689’ or ‘deathzone89’ in a blink. The problem always started when I couldn`t remember the kinky titles or matching the correct password with the correct account and then went through the painful procedure of ‘FORGOT PASSWORD?’ in an annoyingly slow dial-up connection…if you know what I mean. Then there was this intelligent thought in my mind one day-“Kyun na PASSWORD ko hi password rakha jaye? Bah! I am a genius”. The following day, someone opened up my yahoo account and sent some disgruntled mails to his boss, I suppose, judging by the words and kind of language he had used. Found out that BSNL fixes the passwords of the modems as PASSWORD and that I was using the internet on the computer connected to the new modem…the rest you may infer.

And there`s always the password starring the name of the gal you wouldn`t dare to ask out in your life and yet you have had already pictured both of you every day and night in the happily-ever-after photo frame. To those people I say - Do something soon or you`ll end up naming your daughter the same after your folks marry you off somewhere else!  Some of my friends, even I have a similar syndrome…but as I told u…I am a genius at innovating passwords! Not to mention I am terrible at remembering them.
A distinct event I remember happened when I suspected Ranjan was after some girl. It had to be his password! So when the guy was finding the keys on the keyboard to punch in his password, I simply clicked on the dialog box where he wrote his e-mail id. ‘…ANGAROO’, is what I saw on the box. I was laughing my ass off when Ranjan realized what he had done.

“I thought tu kissi ladki ka naam likha hai!”, I was disappointed.

After a string of slangs, he said “Saale aisa karega naa be!”

My belly ache laughing all the while. “Abey! Ladki chhod…jaanwar ka naam last me password diya?”

It was when he too joined the jest. Then all of a sudden he became serious and said “Please be…kissi ko mat 
batana”.  That was the punch line. It was so hilarious, ‘Kangaroo’ became the slogan of the day among us friends.
Password is a pretty hot stuff to handle. Keep it safe keep it cherishing…please don’t keep it ‘KANGAROO’   ;)

Friday, May 6, 2011

Love ain`t so easy!


Have you ever fallen in love...Whoa...That was precisely not what I intended to mean...I meant `love`,falling in which makes u a complete nerd.It makes u do things stupid enough to make you feel you have conquered Mt.Everest the living moment and then makes yourself jump off its peak  the next moment when you realize what a jackass you had been. But again,you were stupid all the same…And in `love` too.

Take for example the case of my friend Piyush and his girlfriend Nishu. And for the sake of India being the largest democracy in the world and we being so proud of it…this incident didn’t happen to me!!…as I have grown tired of explaining it to all and sundry. Oh common!

Well things got a little bit weird on the 14th of Feb 2006 with Piyush and Nishu while we were back  in our home town Balasore & studying in the 12th grade.Well it got funnier the next day when I spat out all the coffee in my mouth on his face when I heard about it from Nishu at my home.

And oh! In my story, I get to be Piyush. Are you reading this Nishu? Watch out…
Okay! It all started when I (Piyush) felt that Nishu and I should be together on the Valentine’s day some `cool` place.It went like this:-

Nishu-So, where do you wanna go? We have no tuitions today, I can’t think I can dodge my mom with that excuse.

Piyush-Can’t u go to Lily’s home today for catching up with chemistry notes?Well, not actually…

Nishu-Will try that.Ok! Where?Your house?

Piyush-Wha… Are u insane? Meri mummy ghar par hi hai.

Nishu-Well, if I go public then I’ll surely be in trouble. Is it your home or not then? Otherwise main chali Sherlock Holmes padhne.

Piyush-Sherlock Holmes? Got tired of Winnie the pooh so soon?

Nishu-Shut up!

Piyush-Ok! Will try to do something now.I’ll call u soon.Don’t be late then ma`am.

Nishu-See ya.

10 minutes later I get ready to confront my mom. What all things u have to do when u care so much about ur gf…Blah! Blah!

Piyush-Mom, I’ve got something to tell you.

Mom-Better make it quick.I’ve got daal to fry.

Piyush-Kya mummy…it’s more important than frying the daal!You’ve got to be better than this.

Mom-I don’t have a hint of what you’re trying to say!

Piyush-Come here maa.See there?

Mom-Yes!It’s aunt Neetu. Why?

Piyush-Well,can’t you see how much pain she is in?She’s looking sad mom.

Mom-`Pain`eh? Teri tabiyat thik hai to? Jaa thermometer le kar aa.

Piyush-Maa!!!

Mom-Okay! I see she’s sad.She seems the same every other day.What’s the big idea?

Piyush-You haven’t talked to her in months mom.She needs you now.NOW’s your chance to mend old follies.

Talk about being melodramatic and here is a guy who’s being the same all for the sake of getting his mom to vacate the house for his girlfriend…And that too desperately.

After mom laughed away my talks…a little while later…

Mom-I guess you `re right. I’ll visit her after lunch.

I couldn’t believe my luck at first.This better be true.

Piyush-No no no no….you’ve got to go now.NOW is the time she needs you.Kya pata kal ho na ho?After all she`s sad NOW.

Mom-But…

Piyush-Kya maa…jaao naa.I’ll fry the daal.

Mom-What….

Piyush–Just go!

I was literally pulling her out of the kitchen.

Mom–Okay!I’m out.But turn off the gas after 3 whistles of the cooker.I’ll be back in an hour.

Piyush-Nahi nahi maa….aap aaram se aao…4-5 ghante baad aao.Main hoon naa.

Mom-I don’t like where this going beta… but if I see any of your friends in the house and you not studying …tab Pain me kaun hoga beta you’ll get to know….

Piyush-Yes maa… Ab aur chaara bhi kya hai???

Mom-What did you say?

Piyush-Kuchh bhi nahi maa…

Aunty ko mera hello bolna..

10 mins later…

Piyush–Jaldi aa.We’ve got 3 hrs in hand. Don’t make it late. Ready to hai naa?

Nishu-Nope! Mujhe laga tu apni mom ko pata hi nahi payega.To main aaram se Sherlock Holmes padh rahi thi.

Piyush-Hey bhagwan!…Kaisi ladki se paala pada hai mera…Tujhe patana meri mummy ko patane se aasan tha,ladki.1 paise ki izzat nahi deti mujhe….

Tu jaldi aa to…

33 mins 49 secs later…

Nishu-I’m here Piyush. Open up.

Piyush-Shit!

Now let’s rewind that much on Piyush and see what happened meanwhile…

Piyush-Jaldi beta…room saaf karle warna fir koi comment maaregi...

After the room is done,I set out on a mission to steal red roses from my neighbour’s garden. (His story of stepping on his neighbor’s cat’s tail is yet another episode I’ll tell u later). 20 mins later I proudly lay down the well earned roses on the table in my room.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door.

Piyush-Aa gayi...I said rubbing my palms.(I Opened the door in yet another of my filmy ishtyles)Jaan!I`ve been waiting for you.Aakhikaar tu aa hi gayi…(lending the red rose to her)

Let’s call her `the voice on the other side`.

Voice-Kyaa??!!Oye chhokre?Ye kya nautanki hai?Sabji kharidna hai to bol warna ek chapal aisi khyaega ki yaad rahega.

Piyush-(Like a snake just bit him)-Na na na na mausi…main to mazak kar raha tha...chapal achhi hai…aapke pairo me hi achhi lagti hai…1 kilo bhindi de do…warna aaj raat baingan khaana padega…

Voice-Ye le…mummy nahi hai?

Piyush-Nahi hai….Plz maa ko mat batana…Main kal 5 kilo bhindi loonga aap se.

And slams the door.It`s exactly 33mins and 49 secs now.The door bell rings.

Piyush–Aa gayi madam ….shayad?(peeps through the hole)

Nishu-Piyush, I’m here.

Piyush–Shit!!

Nishu-Huh?

Piyush-Nah!Nothing!U didn`t have trouble getting here did you?

Nishu-Wow!Where did u get the flowers from?And why do they have cat hair all over them?

Piyush-Arre kuchh nahi yaar.Wo to bas...

Nishu-They smell so nice.

Piyush-The fragrance is from the room freshener dumbo.

Piyush-How unromantic!

She picked up the flowers and drew closer to me."They are sweet...just like you", she whispered in my ear.

Piyush-You mean it?

Nishu-Of course I do,you idiot!I love you.

Piyush-So do I.

There was a brief silence.I kissed her.I was over the moon.These were THE moments and all the trouble was worth it.

Piyush-You look gorgeous in this blue top.What does it say...`HOT BABE`...cool.

Nishu-So?What now?Let`s catch a flick,shall we?

Piyush-Yep!Got this movie on air-`P.S.I Love You`. Wanna watch it?

And we sat down on the couch with some popcorns and lemonade.(P.S.I Made Them)

90 minutes flew past and we were completely into the movie.I loved holding her hands and she loved to pinch
my ears. The game was on.

We literally had forgotten the world around us when I sudenly heard a noisy autorickshaw stalled before our main gate.

I took a peek out of the window.

Piyush-Bhag meri maa...bhaag!Jaldi mere room me ja.Meri maatashri padhaar rahi hai.

Nishu-Wha...?!

Piyush-I`m f***ed! Mom`s here.I... She glared angrily at me.

Oh!Sorry...no bad language.I showed her a i-am-zipping-up-my-mouth sign.

Oops!Ihad just started panicking.

She headed for my room whilst I darted for the door.The knocks had just began to be converted into bangs.

Piyush-I`m coming,I`m coming.

I opened the door.

Mom-Where were you?

But I was already on my way to my room.

Mom-Oye!Kahan jaa raha hai?

Piyush-Abhi to padh k utha.Main khelne jaa raha hoon.

And with that I banged my room`s door close.

Piyush-Quick!Nikal khidki se bahar.Common!

I helped her out.I shut the window.I opened my door nad zoomed past my mom.

Mom-Jaldi aana beta...

Icouldn`t hear the rest,Iwas already behind my room`s window.

Nishu-Kya kare ab?

Piyush-Tu chal mere saath. I held her hand and started walkin briskly,leadin the walk.

Par naa jaane mere saath raahu-ketu ki kya dushmani hai,hamesha sahi waqt par galat aur galat waqt par sahi
kaam karwa dete hai.

Main jo apni gf k liye hero banke aage aage chal raha tha uska harzana mujhe bhugatna pada.She caught up with me.

Piyush-Kya hai?Tez nahi chal sakti?...See the parody?I just said that when I accidentally stepped on a dog`s tail.It yelped in pain and put all of his rabid teeth in display.

Piyush-Bhaag meri maa...bhaag!

We started running like mad.For some strange reason,the dog didn`t follow us.We stopped below Neetu aunty`s balcony panting for breath.

Nishu-Why do always call me as your`maa`?Main teri maa nahi hun.
I was just going on to expalin that when I saw her jaw drop down and eyebrows go up.

Piyush-What?

She just pointed something behind my back.Now I knew the reason why the dog didn`t follow us.Behind me was a hatta-kaata mustanda charging bull like that on the Deccan Charger`s Tshirt(only looking more dangerous).

Nishu-U are doomed man.He`s charging at your red T-shirt.

I gulped.Par chamatkar ko hone se kaun rok sakta hai?

Neetu aunty had just come out after washing her clothes.I had seen her.I was thus trying to hide from her view.She took the bucketful of the dirty water and un-noticingly threw it on the bull.And on R.The bull went away astounted.

Nishu-wht the F***?

Now it was my turn to give back the glare.She was unflinched,.

Piyush-Mind your language dear.

Nishu-Go to hell!Main ghar kaise jaungi?

Truly speaking,whenever a 60 watt bulb glows over my head,I always end up paying for it later.

Piyush-Ek kaam kar. Tu mera shirt pehen le.Ghar par kuchh bahana maar dena.

We excahnged our shirts.She caught an auto and headed home.

I just had enetered my home.

Mom-Kahaan se aa raha hai?

Piyush-khel kar.

Mom-Bahar jaate waqt to tune laal shirt pehni thi?

I looked at my shirt.It had magically turned into blue.

Mom-HOT BABE?Hmmm...

I was just beginning to blackout, when something occured to me.

Piyush-Kya maa,mere issi b`day par hi to Kunal ne mujhe chidhane k liye ye gift diya tha.Maine sharma kar aapko dikhaya nahi.

Mom-Sambhal k rakh.Tere to dost hi aise hai.Pichhli baar Chirag ne bhi ek rangeen underwear di thi tujhe.Wo rakhi hai ya nahi?

I didn`t have anything to say.Ijust smiled and ran into my room...

And with that I have just wrote down what I was itching to tell ya all since years,my friends.Hope Piyush & Nishu do not kill me after reading this!
 

Never Let You Go...


Walking down my memory lane
Things were hazy and distant or so they seemed
Puddles of distracted thoughts
And some contented thoughts that beamed

As I looked around the concourse
My dreams all  fell from the memory tree
Remembering you was never a distant trance
Time chimed away when I was with you
People became a blur when I thought of you
Drowning was just a word until i met you
Call me joke but I always craved for
A smile on your face so true
Is getting hold of my dreams
Really asking too much from you?
Remind me of the moments we breathed
Remind me when you felt your hair
Rummaged by the silent wind
It`s like running towards a tantalus
And never realizing it was meant to forbid


Let me see in those auburn eyes once
What i wish to see
My dreams so obvious and vivid
But never meant to realize
Of what is not but what can be
Promises to be together and see the infinite skies
Promises to be treasure rainbows
And crimson butterflies
Promises destined to be broken never
Dawn that day when you`ll see my dreams
As i see them through my eyes
I`ll keep my promise
I`ll never let go of you...ever.