Why is this blog dead!? Wake up!! Wake up!!

Hindi Movie ‘MAA’ style (white sari, messy hair, tears):

Main tumhare haath jodti hoon, bhagwaan ke liye is blog ko marne se bacha lo.

Hindi News Channel Style (daraawni daadhi et al):

Aapne aadmi ko marte dekha hoga,
Aapne jaanwar ko marte dekha hoga,
Aapne ped ko marte dekha hoga,
Par kabhi ek blog ko marte dekha hai?
Dekhiye humaara sansanikhej khulasa…
EK BLOG KI MAUT!

All India Radio Style (heavily accented and all serious):

Aur ab samachar. Gopaneeya sutron se pata chala hai ki ek blog, jo ki dps dwarka ke kuch chanchal baalakon ne shuru kiya tha, ab maut ki kagaar par aa khada hua hai. Iski sahayta ke liye aap ‘Blogger Marauders Bachaav Samiti’ se sampark kar sakte hain. Inka number hai…

Ba-Tulsi Virani Style (expressions not allowed)

Ba: Is blog ke phale phoole aangan mein ab kaante kyun dikh rahe hain tulsi? Ab main kuch hi din ki mehmaan hoon… (safed jhooth!!) meri aakhri ichchha hai ki apne par-par-par-par-par-pote-potiyon ke posts dekhoon.

Tulsi: Ba, jab bheeshma pitamah baanon ki shaiyya par lete the, toh unhein bhi takleef toh bahut hui hogi, par unhone tab tak mrityu ko gale nahin lagaya jab tak unhone apne kukarmon ka prayashchit poora nahin kar liya… (= tumne itne saal public ko pakaya, it’s payback time!!)

Goel Style (yes, ít’s me!)

Ok sorry, last waala over ho gaya.... :P

Arrey bring it back yaar!! We’ve all grown up yes… but this blog was here so we could all be in touch even after we go our separate ways!!! Let’s bring it back on its feet… kyun bhai log (and an occasional bhen log bhi, although matrix fits the bhai log category :P)….

This post is a compilation of notions, NOT ONLY WORDS. Please be mindful of this fact.

I wish to tell you that I have loved you even in separation, as no child would love his father. I mean not to question your actions or mine, for this is how the chords of our fate meant it to be. I am being selfish, but I am desperate. I am full of guilt and sorrow, but now I must go.

I never told you this, for attenuating circumstances did not let me, but Evette respected you for your values, and Raphael always thought of his grandfather as a noble man.

Goodbye
Your loving son
Steven.

Try your luck.

It turns out, that according to a recent survey of the biggest world cities, Mumbai was rated the rudest. And, expectedly, this evoked a RUDE outbreak of abuses and derogatory remarks for the poor magazine. Well, I'm no Reader's Digest, nor have I the resources to hold a survey. But, to put it in Einstein's terms, I shall speak of my own experience.

I haven't heard many people receiving a phone call with "Hello... may I know who's calling?" or "Hello, aap kaun bol rahe hain?". It always comes down to: "Hell-lo, Kaun?" in a not-so-friendly tone. Sometimes, callers begin interrogation even before introducing themselves. "Hello? Pehle Batao Aap Kaun?" Or worse, "Chunnu ko phone dena." One thing I've noticed which is not so much rude, as it is funny, is the fact that when asked WHO is calling, people say: "Main Chandigarh Se Bol Raha Hun" or "C-barah waalon ke yahaan se". For God sake, don't you have a NAME?

But otherwise, people are warm. Not only warm-hearted, but actually, temperature-wise, warm. When my father's long lost college friend, oversized Mr Walia (name changed) came to my house last week, I felt the heat emanating when he squeezed me into a hug saying, "Munda jawaan ho gaya hai, hain?" And I always thought you're supposed to be a toddler all your life.

The best place to come across the greatest examples of rudeness are at the post office or MCD office. "Sab apne apne form do baje se pehle jama kara do. Hum bhi toh insaan hain, humein bhi toh khana khana hai", said a mahila officer, who'd just been up from an hour-long nap on her desk. If you request a post officer to hurry up a bit, he'd say, "Apne aap kar lo, itni hi jaldi hai toh."

Well, the grocers around my place aren't too keen on customer feel-good either. Because I have to ask at least five times for a packet of chooran only to find out that he has only Haathi Brand - Lena hai toh lo, varna dimaag mat kharab karo.

For a little sophistication in rudeness, fly Air India or Indian where trained men and women give you a taste of India’s Incredible Inhospitality. “Abhi se bata do kisko kya chahiye, main baad mein nahin aaoongi.”

You know very well who to look up to for a taste of ‘Gaaliyaan 2006’ or haryanvi humour – Bus drivers. I dare not try to explain it to you. It’s better left understood.

Overall we’re not all that rude. Except that one or two swear-words (you know which) escape the mouth often, or for the fact that we love ogling at Gori Mem’s who visit India.

PS: Rudeness reaches new heights when it comes into inexperienced, frustrated and unconfident, inferiority-complex-ridden teachers, who try to prove their superiority every minute. (Samajhdaar ko ishaara kaafi hai)

The human brain you see, is quite an intelligent being. It makes you remember a trillion things, even if it can’t help you learn, chemistry, say, for an example.
So this organ acts as an analyzer and supervisor, directing functions and eliminating nonsense, even when you’re asleep.

So that’s what I am going to talk about.
When was the last time Cherrie, that you WET THE BED? I might be a weasel, but the last time I did it was when I was in class III and I am not shameful to admit it. And I think it was fairly long back.

I was trying to figure out, what was it that made me lose control. And though the answer to it was something that I already knew, but somehow, it hadn’t clicked me.
The brain was of course behind it.

Before I predicate my theory, I must add that I cannot ascertain that this is concordant with the events as they actually happen in a human body, but whatever it is, it seems interesting. So read on.

When you pee on the bed, you don’t do anything wrong. You just loosen up at the wrong place. And that happens because your bladder could explode if you do not indulge. So, in theory, it could happen even now, but I figure out, years of laziness have taught our bladders, a little something. Patience; being content and full.

The brain devised an excellent method, to make you lie still on the bed and WET THE BED. Now since you are asleep, the brain could communicate with you in your dreams.
So that’s where it comes from. Uncontrollable hose pipes and behemoth tankers.
You could dream of anything that suggests flow of liquid.

• I am in Nebroskov, its chilling cold, some wild dogs are after me. (that ensures a lot of adrenaline rush)… There is no safe haven…. It’s either the piercing teeth or the frost, one way or another… The end has come. Suddenly when all hope is lost, a doorway appears out of nowhere. The dogs stop, looking puzzled. I simply open the knob… and there, right in front of me, is a big toilet seat. I am more than happy to let go. And unless I sleep with a mackintosh underneath, things really become messy.
• “The upper floor is on fire”, the wimpy looking school girl shouts right on my face. I, the hero, ventures to extinguish the flame. The emergency hose pipe is just on my right. I use it. The flame is out, the blame is in. (you just have to wait till you wake up).
• I am on a Schelby-Porsche 500. At 200 miles an hour, it drinks oil like a monster would, say, if he fed himself on oil. The machine is just going to run out of fuel, when suddenly (under a lot of pressure) an unmanned refueling station comes into view. I get down and refuel the car. Both the car and the bed are refueled. I am however, screwed

I know it sounds or rather seems crap when read, and in truth, it isn’t as much dramatic. But I hope you got the idea. And had a small laugh or grunt.
Rohil, this one is for you. I hope you find it simple enough.

Grey silhouetted; Grey scavengers
Pouncing in at close quarters
I lay still in my close
Anticipating requests of tumbling twattlers

But they’re perfect and far too many
Years of practice, and shame gone awry
They bug, they pest and smell of gutters
Plummeting souls of Prolific Bunker Hunters

Perhaps they all are not Grey
Minstrels and Mistresses caught in a disarray
Helping or heaping just might pay off
Laughter, skin or sanity aloft

One likes it here on the other side though
Not a hunter with furrowing brows
It takes an effort you see, setters?
To not to be among the Prolific Bunker Hunters

May the donkeys never type a comment and keep on smiling like goons in front of an equally dumb screen.
(OFFENCE MEANT TO THE INTENDED IN ITS ENTIRE ENTIRETY)

# 3 IMPORTANT questions and a note:
• How do the bastards fly without a plane?
• How do the young learn to speak?
• How do the old forget how to speak?

PORTHOS was the dog of celebrated playwright James Matthew Barrie, Who, according to him, dreamt of being a bear one day. If you read Peter Pan, his most famous work, you’ll realize that dogs in that particular play, behave particularly oddly.


The Legend of Juice and Gore: A Half Moon Investigation on duality.

How can we be so different
And yet be so much alike?
Is it an unusual display of Pedantry
Or a Fool’s shame that sets us apart?

Just a silver of Blue Grass
And the closeness of the Noon Star
PORTHOS dreams of being a bear one day
And here I thwart his unreal dream.

May we ruin the wool?
And hoist silken flags
Linen draped vassals
In a ghetto of stark naked bodies.

What makes the protagonist shiver?
Nah; not fear, I know it.
What turns him into a ferocious beast?
Naught of anger, nor pain of flesh.

Madness is a tad unnecessary;
We are immortal in this mad cycle.
What remains to be judged however,
Is a chaos of the fleeting past.

Shouts of steel dreams
Guns of dog fights
Gore for the living
And Juice for the living dead.

Kal raat, mujhe neend nahin aa rahi thi. I guess my cycle has been disturbed by studying late into the night (modesty, where is?), but that’s not the unfortunate part. I, out of helplessness, decided to switch on the radio and listen to some nighttime music. You may roll on the ground in laughter, but I was half expecting to find some Opera music (not SOAP opera, opera as in The Opera House of Sydney… does that ring a bell?). You know, I’ve heard it sometimes on 102.6 AIR FM Rainbow, and I really liked it, but, well, as happened in the Physics paper, what I wanted wasn’t ‘on the cards’! So I started fiddling with the tuner. And guess what, I discovered three NEW radio stations that have sprung up suddenly in the past week – they had funny names, one is Hits 95 FM, Big 92 FM and Radio One 94.7 FM. I thought, ‘Great, you can just change the channel when they (RJs) begin to open their well-endowed (don’t think otherwise) mouths.’ But I knew I wasn’t born in the hospital Lady Luck was visiting that fateful day.

One channel, the first to be encountered while on your way from 86 MHz to 106, (RADIO CITY to be precise) airs this absolutely hilarious programme that can kill all your sleep, for you shall find even your RBCs laughing at it. It’s called Love Guru (pronounced with a loooooooong “Lurve”, by a svelte voice that sounds in desperate need of… you know what). And there’s this self-professed Prem Gyaani who claims to solve all your love and (uhmm..) related problems. He sometimes even calls a psychiatrist by the name of Dr Samir Parikh, who (when I heard him for the first time) sounded like my padosi’s flu-stricken daughter. And oh! The problems he receives are just as good. Sample this, “I fell in love a year ago and my sandals broke. I forgot to take notice then, but now that I’m not interested in him, I’ve gone into depression because that was my favourite pair. Help me love guru, you’re the only one who can stop me from taking an extreme step.” And the reply goes, (it couldn’t have been better), “Sweety, sweety, (Maddy, anyone?) hum apne jeevan mein aisi bahut saari duvidhaaon se guzarte hain. Par iska matlab yeh toh nahin na, ki jeevan ko hi tyaag dene ka mann bana lein? There are going to be losses, reparable (boyfriend) and irreparable (favourite sandals), but never lose heart. Listen to this song, it’ll make you feel better.”
“I love you oh sayyoni… I love you oh sayyoni koi shak!”
And tomorrow, she’ll reply with “You saved my life… I love you Lurve Guru!”

But surprisingly, there’s an even more interesting programme on the same theme on Radio Mirchi, but of course, with its own tadka. The same problem will be solved by Dr Love – who lives life in the fast lane – through (comforting?) words traveling on Rajdhani Express: “Yaar dekho, boyfriend chhoda, fikkar not, par favourite sandals ko nazar-andaaz kiya, un-fuggivable. Arrey, sandals are a woman’s best friends yaar… Boyfriend toh hazaar mil jayenge, par sandals… uh huh! But, tension not. Popkins, life mein karo chillax, Mirchi suno and…”
“Zara Jhoom Jhoom, Zara Jhoom Jhoom, Zara Jhoom.”
Obviously, she doesn’t call again.

And then there is sadabahaar, AIR! (aadaab arz hai, aadaab arz hai). In their super-Sayaani tones, all the radio jockeys (jockeys huh!) speak some pre-historic ‘languaze’ with extra stress on the last consonant of the word… “Doston, aap sun rahe hain “programe” Geet Aapke Naam Se, aur main hoon aapki Host aur Dost Geeta Sharma. Doston, ab sunte hain yeh pyaara sa naghma, jise sunne ki khwahish rakhte hain humare ‘reglar lissner’ Kanpur ke Sushant Alok Ji.” Then she plays some stupid music till the time she looks for the record to be played (I don’t think they have computers at AIR, enlighten me if you know they do).
“Dil Jalta Hai Toh Jalne De…”

The other channels, have incessant jabbering with an occasional song or two, of which repetitive music portions have been cut to suit airtime. Of course, 95 FM has no talking but as you all know, it doesn’t suit my taste, because ‘Engliss gaanon mein humra thoda haath tang hai, samajh rahe hain na.’ But it’s great fun to listen to Delhi’s Maniacal Megahertz – Airwaves that take your sleep away.

PS: Exaggerations are my forte, so don’t mind.

I took one of my hands from his and placed my glass of wine at the edge of the table.
“It’s going to fall”, he said.
“Exactly. I want you to tip it over the edge.”
“Break the glass?”
Yes, break the glass. A simple gesture, but one that brings up fears we cant really understand. What’s wrong with breaking an inexpensive glass, when everyone has done so unintentionally at some time in their life?
Glasses are not purposely broken. In a restaurant or in our home, we’re careful not to place glasses at the edge of a table. Our Universe requires that we avoid letting glasses fall to the floor.
How can I let go of my life, my ways, my responsibilities, my likes, my hatred. I know not of another path. I cannot take the bait.
I detest everything; I feel I do not belong here. It is not my dream to be stuck to my world of imposing people, imposing friends, imposing books, imposing teachers, life arresting fears, life sucking disorders.

What is it that is your dream?
One would like to be wise; to preach and predicate my wisdom, to see the gleaming faces in awe. To be natural and always learning. To be knowledgeable. To be understood. To be appreciated.

So you think you become wise by differentiating yourself from the world you live in, meditating and thinking of what you already know, what you have already analyzed?
No, I think I become wise by living life every moment and struggling. But why prevent yourself from moving to a place where you might feel happy. Where there would be more than just your dream. Why not take a new path?
But fear holds one back. The risk of losing what I have created. And the risk of losing the enthusiasm to take on to another path.

But when we break them by accident, we realize that it’s not very serious. The waiter says, “It’s nothing”, and when has anyone been charged for a broken glass? Breaking glasses is a part of life and does no damage to us, to the restaurant, or to anyone else.

Change is good. Especially if it is pleasant.

But what if it’s not?
It doesn’t matter. If one is not satisfied with the present, how much worse can it get?

Are you not escaping from the goals you had set for yourself?
Maybe; but unfulfilled wishes will do me no good, even if I stick to my path till the end.
And why should I not do what seems fairer and brighter? Why have I accepted to let myself be tortured?

Our parents tought us to be careful with glasses and with our bodies. They taught us that the passions of childhood are impossible, that we should not flee from priests, that people cannot perform miracles, and that no one leaves on a journey without knowing where they are going.
Break the glass, please – and free us from all these damned rules, from needing to find an explanation for everything, from doing only what others approve of.

Why is it that I cannot burp in front of even my folks, when Shrek says “Better in than out, eh, I always say, Fiona”? The only reason is that I do not want to be Shrek. I don’t want to be some filthy ogre who is hated and feared by kids. (I already have some lead in this direction).

Why can’t I lick chocolate from my fingers and lunchboxes in the classroom?
Why do my folks tell me to be smartly dressed when I am perfectly okay with my old tattered denims and tucked in t-shirts?
Why can I not say NO to those I hate, and a word of admiration to those whom I like?
Why am I double minded about posting this, thinking about remodeling it, so that it may not look empty and dumb?

Funny world isn’t it?
We are facing the brunt of all those norms in which we never had a say. And now its just into us.
Often I find myself talking to myself – would I like to use some techy-crazy-complicated infrastructure in IIT or would I be happier with some IT + Guitar degree from Stanford.
There is so much that the world decides for me, with or without my consent.

That which is good and that which is bad was not decreed good or bad by some divine judgment (though our teachings say otherwise). What we know today to be good or evil is more or less a refined version of what our ancients believed. The ancients, who were close to nature, drew a colorful mythology of what they found complimenting nature, and what they found was aghast to it, termed it as evil, as we know it today. This concept of light and darkness, of angelic and of demonic karma tilted, crushed, evolved, devolved over centuries, but it is core centric.

Whatever the crap, whatever the reason, some element of my dreams is drifting away. And thanks to the world I live in, I will be crushed again for saying this.

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This post is an experiment of a sort. It wont make much sense if read from bottom to the first line.

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PLEASE NOTE FIRST AND FOREMOST: The narrator of Manni and Pintoo’s story is NOT me.

Pata hai, Manni aur Pintoo ki shaadi hone wali hai. Ek din donon ke mummy-papa mile, aur rishta jud gaya. Phir toh ji, idhar phone kar, udhar phone kar, isko bata, usko bata.
'Saddi Manni da byaah pakka ho gaya hai ji.'
'Oji Pintoo bahu lae ke aa raha hai.'

Pintoo, actually Sarvesh Bansal (baniya), settled in Amarica, abhi do saal pehle, PEC se 'injeen-ring' karke gaya hai. Works with... uh... I don't know actually. Uske mummy papa ko bhi nahin maaloom. Paise bhejta hai har mahine. Aur gifts bhi. Aur kya chahiye? Suna hai, otthe jaake, usne apna naam badal liya hai - ek William aur jud gaya hai beech mein. God knows how it helps. Thoda accent bhi jhadta hai. Abhi chhuttiyan manane aaya hai, aur kudi dhoondhne. Sundar susheel Indian ladki.

Manni, actually Mansi Gupta (baniyani), B Sc Home Science from Ambala. Home Science ki spalling bhi bata de, toh maan jaaoon. Job: Chatting.. on the phone. Internet usse use nahin karna aata. Computer course bhi kiya tha, ek do saal pehle. Par out of touch ho gayi. Actually, Manni toh Ms Chandigarh contest ka phorm le ke aayi thi, but Dadi refused. And asked Daddy dear to get her married. Ki fark paenda ae, as long as munda changa ho (changa = paisewala). Amrike ki sair karwaye. Branded kapde kharidwaye, aur kya chahiye?

Toh ji now begins the fiesta. Pintoo has to go back soon, so wedding must take place quickly. Isliye mangni toh usi din ho gayi. Do chaar mehmaan aaye, just close friends and family. Sirf, Ambale waale Chacha ji, Shimle waali Buaji, Chandigarh se Mamaji, aur haan, Dilli se Massiji. Yeh sab hamaari taraf se (Main baraati hoon). Unki taraf se bhi itne hi the.

Actually main dilli waali Massiji ka beta hoon. The groom’s mom, is my Massi. Mangni waale din, Massi ne toh dil khol ke rakh diya. Aakhir ek hi toh ladka hai. Nai bahoo ke liye teen mehenge waale set, do saadiyan, nave-nave suit (jaise kabhi Harsha ma’am pehenti thi), aur samdhi-samdhan ke liye pyaar bhare suit pieces, saadiyaan, shirt ke kapde and stuff sab dikha dikha ke diya. Ab jab idhar se itna kuchh gaya tha, toh udhar se bhi toh aana tha. Bahut kuchh aaya. Almost the same things, different colours though. And different companies also. But nevertheless, the mangni went well. Majaa aa gaya.

DJ bhi tha. Main toh nachta hi raha. Ab tumse kya chhupana, dance floor pe toh no one can refuse your company! Tussi samajh rahe ho na! Ab agla mera hi toh number hai. Do chaar saal mein meri bhi naukri lag jayegi USA mein. Oh, the thought!
Ek-do thi, unki taraf waali, achchha dance kar rahi thi. Baad mein dinner ke time pe mili thi. I said, ‘Hi, aap dance achchha karti hain. Main Chinku. Aur aap?’ Pata nahin baad mein kahaan chali gayi thi. Anyways…

Ghar pe toh din bhar dhol, sangeet, you know, neighbourhood-auntie-mahasabha. Thoda bahut kaam bhi kiya beech mein. Bistar lagwaaye for the baraatis, auntiyon ko mutter-namkeen serve kiya. The atmosphere was totally sangeet-may.

Ab do din baad shaadi thi. Kya kya nahin taiyaariyan thi. Ghar ki lighting, sajaawat, safaai, lunch, dinner for everyone. fhuh! Eventually, the night arrived. Main, Chintoo, Banni aur Bulbul. Hum sab ne jo dance kiya hai, jam ke! Venue gate pe bhi. Then we gate-crashed. All the ribbon cutting and all went down the drain. The groom’s saaliyaan couldn’t demand any money. Bach gaye! Par pata hai, baraatiyon ke purse khaali ho gaye itni der mein. Baahar khade khade. Anyways, andar gaye, toh saare pakwaan khatam ho chuke the. Actually, Manni ke saare jaannewaale 8 baje se aaye hue the. Aur aajkal toh fashion hai, baraat toh dus baje se pehle pahunch hi nahin sakti, na! We didn’t get anything to eat.

Manni was looking elegant. Parlour-made to perfection. And so was Pintoo. But his biggest fear was, all the auntiejis who’d come up to the stage, wiggle-waggle his cheeks and say, “Oye, tu inna vadda ho gaya hai? Bahoo da khyal rakhna.” “Of course, auntie”, he’d say with an extra roll of the tongue in “course”.

I immediately looked for the DJ. Par akele kaise jaaoon. Banni ko “bahut jor ka bathroom” aa raha tha. (He’s only three.) Aur Chintoo pata nahin kahaan gayab ho gaya. So I eventually had to go with Bulbul. She’s a distant cousin. (Thank-god she’s a distant cousin. It is important to be DISTANT to some people). I danced all night, but didn’t find even a single girl good enough. Aur uss din waali ladki toh kahin thi hi nahin. And then I realized, she was standing by Manni’s side, so that she is visible in every photo. Meanwhile, a lot of things happened on the stage. Jaimala for instance. Manni’s tall brothers hoisted her to such a level that even Rohil can’t slam dunk. So there was no option but for our poor old Mamas and Chachas and me to hoist the groom. After the hilltop Jaimala session, and dinner and everything, phere ho gaye.

I’m sure agar koi Panditji se poochhe un shlokon ka matlab jo woh badi aasaani se ga gaye, unhein bhi nahin maaloom honge. Nor were the couple interested in it. Pintoo ne thodi jyaada pi li thi. Toh agar panditji RAP bhi ga rahe hote, toh usse samajh nahin aata. Manni toh, you know how intelligent she is. She was used to taking rounds around a bonfire – like when they went for a trip to Manali. She assumed it would be as much fun. And naturally, was a little disappointed when there was no antaakshari during the phere. I fell asleep.

So much for the wedding, par aage kya hua jaante hain?

Pintoo lost his job, (he was on the brink of losing it when he came to India). And they’re both back in Panchkula (near Chandigarh). Aaj meri shaadi hai. Manni has doubled since when she got married and so has her family. Two kids added. Pintoo runs a stationery business. They’re spending the money she got in her dahej. I heard him saying that 2 lacs were spent on his wedding aur meri pe kam se kam 3 lakh toh hue hi honge. I distinctly remember the saree Manni is wearing right now. She’s borrowed it from the girl from the mangni (she was wearing it that day).

NOW: Back to me mode again. This may sound like a desperate attempt to be funny. But it is not. It is my experience with the truth. No exaggerations whatsoever. Although the last part is extrapolation.

* Ram Dayal is the gangster from the movie Gangster (That’s what I am going to call him).

I do not know what do you look for while watching a movie but I believe that when watching a movie one either looks for entertainment in the form of humor, delight in the form of music or a situation or conception so deep that one thinks about it to bring about a transformation in one’s temperament (unintended and positive). One sees a character in a movie and is inspired by his acumen, heroics or bare effortless gestures.

After I saw Gangster, I was filled with terrible remorse for myself, for having tolerated the movie. The complete run time of the movie is about unnecessarily imposed hopelessness. Unnecessary emotions, unnecessary killing, just as if to show the ruthlessness of an otherwise guinea pig looking Ram Dayal. The female in the movie, speaks so unwittingly and terribly, as if she is sorry about something she has not conceived. (By the way, she couldn’t conceive in 5 years she spent with Ram Dayal). I strongly believe that anything that is in any way remotely connected to Mahesh Bhatt, Mallika Sherawat, Emraan Hashmi and Himesh Reshammiya is pure bullshit. And we see this vividly in Gangster. The story jumps from one place to another, as if the director decided to put in situations that hindi cinema has not seen in the past five years.
See here:
Gangster meets bar-dancer girl. The girl invites him to stay at her house for a night (OOW!!). They don’t employ into you-know-what (I am confused). The girl falls in love with the gangster, when he blows up the head of her customers and is fired from her bar. The gangster is a moralist (these two adopt a kid). They name him Bitoo (the 60’s?). The boy is killed in a police pursuit. (Insanity makes the Gangster – Bar Dancer pair to flee to South Korea). All this turns out be the past of the bar dancer when she is hooked by Emraan Hashmi. (Did we call that flashback?). The girl falls in love with Hashmi while Ram Dayal is in Dubai. (What Ram Dayal couldn’t do in 5 years, Hashmi does that in 5 minutes and that to while singing a song in autumn under maple trees and on a sheet that might as well be the mackintosh of an elephant; Predictable, we are talking Hashmi here). Gangster turns up when the bar girl is skirting Korean streets in a deceiving robe and Ram Dayal attacks Hashmi (Brilliant!!!). Then the Bar-Girl again hooks up with her of-late mate and realizes she is pregnant. Just when the Gangster forfeits paths of the gang, he is run into an ambush and survives 10 gangsters and begins his journey back to his slutty girl, looking like a dog miscreant. The slutty girl runs back to Hashmi, who convinces her to hand over the Gangster to the police (Is this an idiocy fest going on?). When the cops take over the Gangster, Hashmi turns out to be a cop. The cop-Hashmi harasses the bar-girl in front of the press and is declared as a savior. The bar-girl decides to call it up and shoot Hashmi. Hashmi dies, the bar girl suicides and Ram Dayal suffocates in his Fannsi Ka Fanda.
(Are we supposed to cry?). Enough? Apparently not.
The movie ends with the bar girl in a wedding decorous; running over green fields. She finds Ram Dayal and Bitoo smiling like goons in a fest of stupidity that can never end.

Are we so sucked up in a sense bereft world that we can call this gibberish as entertainment?

Gladiator is the story of Maximus Decimus Meridius, as he goes from a brave general of the Roman armies to a wounded fugitive to a stoic slave and ultimately to a gladiator hero. The movie runs on Crowe’s mane, as we discover his virtues of potency and nobility. (“You are a soldier Proxumus, and our victory is not this land of Germania; strength and honor”). With amazingly compelling scores, one is drenched into the world that is shown, forgetting the fiction, believing the screen reality. When you see Maximus kissing the feet of his dead wife, you cry. When you see him fighting in the local arena, you feel his tremendous power. When you see him turn down the emperor’s wish to kill his gladiatorial enemy, you sense his wisdom. When he dies, you sense loss. When he finally meets his son and wife, you feel contentment and happiness.

Every component of the movie is so perfect. There are certain dialogues which somehow give me some kind of energy when I listen to them. And it’s not psychological; I can literally feel heat exuding from my back.

Here is one of these:
(Maximus, to Commodus, the son of Marcus Aurelius, who slayed his father to gain power.)
“I am Maximus Decimus Meridius. General to the armies of the North. A loyal servant to Marcus Aurelius, the real emperor of Rome. Father to a murdered son, Husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance.”

Perhaps I can evoke such emotions because I have in my mind a pre-definition of what that is good. But if I can watch something for 7-something times, there must be some substance in it. And a 100 million fan-fellowship can’t be wrong.

Okay, now that I have written what I had to, here is the big question. Why was there a need to write such a post. The reason lies not with(in) me. The reason is that I have friends, who do not quite share my perception. And no matter how hard I try, it irritates me at one point. And for this, I have received insane banters from matrix, from Rohil; my friends. Say, Saksham, who normally shares my opinion in matters such as this, somehow, I don’t know why, loves this movie. And I hate him for this. Aman Hora, who had his birthday in April, asked for a cd of “Tera Suroor” as his birthday gift; It was embarrassing for me to pick up the cd from the audio cd shelf in Music World. Utsav Sharma, who claims to be a know-it-all movie buff, loved this movie, and I hate him for this. He does POOJA for Reshammiya, and I hate him for this. Abhinav who likes these bloody songs “Do me a favour, lets play holi” and “Ishq di gali wich no entry” hides behind his best defense strategy, to tell me that I do not appreciate Indian-ness. You should know this Abhinav, I love the music of Pandit Jasraj, the lyrics of Gulzar (not kajra re, so much; maybe) and so many others, all of whom are insanely Indian. And if you wish to call me 'untouched-by-nonsense-music-oh-worshippers-of-the-pure-form-of-music-oh-protectors-of-music', which I know you want to, you might as well do it. Coz I do not ridicule criticism as so many of my friends do.

Here is my final word: You may call me a psycho fundamentalist, a purist to a world of my own making, and I won’t mind. But for as long as I can, I will try and make you people see and understand my point, which I ofcourse realize, will be a difficult task.


Please, all my sensitive mates, don’t make an issue out of this post, if your name was mentioned somewhere in a not-so-positive-manner. I can only say sorry. And hey, I am hungry for comments.

Sounds like a pig? Well, pigs are cute, if and when washed, but that’s not the point. The other day, I tried to close my eyes and concentrate one of my other senses towards all the activity in my life. My ears, that is, tried to register the gist of the sounds going on inside me and outside me. Guess what, this is exactly what I heard. Honk Honk Boink Boink. It was being repeated rhythmically across all the while that I undertook this exotic expedition.

But why honk and boink? Could I answer that? Perhaps yes. Let me try and identify all the honks and boinks in my life. Beginning from when my day begins, I’m woken up by a honk – the sound of the alarm in my sister’s cellphone. Then I boink-boink like a pig because I don’t like to be woken up like that. I start getting ready slowly, but everyone else waiting behind me to use the bathroom starts honking. I’m out quickly then and realise I’m late for school (it is a well known fact that my watch is 15 minutes too fast). So I start hurrying up and honk at my mom for making breakfast quickly. But she, despite all my despair, begins to harp about my fetish for being late and how she honours discipline and punctuality. Sounds like a boink, this one.

Nevertheless, I’m in school right before Mr Suresh can honk. Yet, he has to let the wind pass out through his vocal cords. So there goes a honk, a boink, then “Ae Saksham” and a biiig honk. And a small cute Boink with a twinkle in his eyes at the Achchhi Ladki’s like Maitreyee and ‘Surrishti’. There’s quite a cocktail of sounds, for example, Niharika’s a honk-honk-exaggerate-as-much-as-possible-honk-honk. Geetika Kaushal is boink-tum-na-bas-rehne-do-boink. Mutreja, uhmm… boink-you-don’t-know-how-to-boink-boink, Swati (God knows when she’ll boink), Jyot boink-no-one-cares-for-me-except-SD-boink, Saksham boink-aayi-re-aayi-re-khushi-boink, Rohil honk-I’ll-kill-you-if-you-do-this-question-before-me-honk! Phew!

When I get ready to go back home, Sagar honk-don’t-call-me-pinky-honk. At home, when I think of all I’ve got to study, VM ke teachers dimaag mein aate hain. Physics – boink-padh-ke-aaye-o-na-boink. Chemistry – honk-main-bada-kamina-type-ka-aadmi-hoon-honk. Maths – boink-(smile)-you-have-to-practise-(smile)-boink.

Idhar honk, udhar honk. Idhar boink, udhar boink! Sadak pe honk, Metro mein boink. TV pe honk-SabseTez-boink-Football-boink-ArjunSingh-honk-Sonia-boink-Manmohanji-(feeblest) boink.

And then when I sit down to write an article, I don’t get anything sensible and I write down about honks and boinks. What a silly thing to do! I know you’re all going to pelt me with more honks and boinks. Sorry for wasting your time.

Honk Boink. (Happy Commenting)

It becomes my duty to first clear and burst certain myths. What follows has already been posted as a comment in/for the post “Pehla Pehla Plaster”, as a rebuttal (genuine) to Abhi’s snide remarks.

Foaly - a message for abhi on 7:22 PM
AbhiYou think I'm some love stricken yearling, but I'm not.That woman is someone, whom I respect with my all my heart and head. Not always because of the reasons you think but because she is a considerate person, ultra cool, jovial and open kinda woman.She is one of those few (rare) teachers who at least acknowledges my presence without a frown, and considers me able enough to walk and talk.But with creatures like Ummat, Richa ma'am, and Priya Narayan on the loose, who look for Abhinav Goel - Abhi Darling - Abhinav every time they get a hangnail, you'll never understand what I mean.With all due respect, SUMAN DAGUR is AWESOME, SMART, and INTELLIGENT and hopefully, she will never change her colors.

And to add that I do not quite appreciate SD’s new hair cut, is perhaps pertinent too.

Now, to some real business.
When Saksham (I believe) coined the term ‘Nautanki’, it was meant to be a far specific concept than you think. Let me tell you what Nautanki is. Its funny that one needs to tell you this.

Nautanki is:
To tilt your head 65 degrees (magically so) if you want to wish a teacher ‘Good Morning’.
To send mails to my inbox which are addressed to Saksham, despite all my telling that (that) particular mailing address belongs to me, not to Saksham.
To shout everything out when a squeak would just do fine, to compliment your height, or the lack of it.
To assume that you have an upper hand in every situation, whether it be fighting with me or getting the Perfoma (I really don’t know how its spelt) signed from Suresh Sir.
To sing songs about Rahul Bhaiyya and Rohan Saiyyan whenever you can spare your voice box from doing the shouting business.



All that said, I think ‘mujhe joote\machli\rasgulle padne waale hai’.
Hey matrix, it’s all meant to be some sick fun, I am not starting a blog fight, as you would undoubtedly mention.

well here comes nautanki 2. and before u start reading, let me apologize for being rude, nasty and watever bad things come to ur mind.according to suresh sir's quiet student "our class is filled with nerds who only study and all work and no play has turned them into dumb a**es". (for her name plz refer to swati, preeja, me , rajat or nancy). but i dont quite believe in this theory. i mean yes, 2/3rd of the class is like that and the remaining one-third comprises of nerds who dont study and are dumb a**es (like me).
but yes, one thing is for sure, our class is the nautanki baaz lot of the school. i mean how many of u know that at this moment there are three very secret onesided affairs going on in our class itself? be its utsav's depression (i dont know y saksham thinks its not nautanki) or jyot's sighs when S.D. enters the class with her new hair cut, it is both irritating and fun. preeja spilling her daal on her uniform with a safedi ka chamkaar and then going to clinic with a i-will-kill-everybody-who-is-laughing-at-me expression , saagar almost kicking abhi for stepping on his new shoes, pallav being suresh sir's hot favourite student even after having pen tattoos on his arm, me screaming due to a damn chipkali sticking to the ceiling, its all a part and parcel of an average 12-b student's life.
there are other sort of nautanki as well. students publicizing that they left their coaching institutes for not making it into batch 1 and studying at home with a home tutor(god damned they still believe that i have believed them), taking chuttis for phase tests and then saying "i didnt know school was open"(with ref. to vinayak), amandeep trying to increase his attendance by proving S.D. wrong, Ms. K. A. showing special and personal animousity to Utsav, somebody stealing a physics p.c. that too of me whose handwriting is unreadable, and jyot allotting icecream flavours and saksham alotting beauty creams to girls, all form a part of nautanki of 12-b.
and to think its all a matter of months. then all of us gonna get scatterred. the lucky ones cracking iit and all (even if u r a five point someone, u r still an iit product) or going abroad and the other ppl chakkar katofying D.U. .

The sun rises every morning
and I wake up to go to school
I get ready, reach on time,
Am I not a fool!
Suresh sir burns my optimism to ash
Koo-oh-ah Koash Koash

In school all day, I labour hard
sharpening my super-skills
And what I get in return
Is Ashu Malik's haunting shrills!!
Anyone at all she's ready to bash
Koo-oh-ah Koash Koash

I thought Chemistry would pacify
Uhmm Uhmm… I need say no further
With jokes to ache your poor stomach
Miss KA acts like godmother
My spirits gallop down with a crash
Koo-oh-ah Koash Koash

When I look at poor Ms. Shweta Bachhety
I pity her state as Richa Ma’am does Jyot’s
The CLASS doesn’t care for what she says
And only Srishti takes down her notes
For her our class is a little too rash
Koo-oh-ah Koash Koash

And how can we forget her ever
For someone might well kill me
When SD shouts her frustration out
She reeks of a jealousy filmy.
She needs a break, or just a splash
Koo-oh-ah Koash Koash

The school’s over and when I’m home
The TV set’s showing Aajtak
Nothing but a set of maniacs
Who can’t stop their bak-bak
Guys, leave poor Abhishek and Ash
Koo-oh-ah Koash Koash

It seems life is one helluva hell,
And I’m here to stay,
And everything is on my lap,
The muck, the dirt, the hay.
Perhaps I’m here to clean the trash
Koo-oh-ah Koash Koash

No offence meant to anyone who's name is mentioned. It's all in good spirit.

How did it HAPPEN?
I was in my kiddy-mood-best. Planned a race to the classroom with Ritwika and Srishti (Black/White???). From the Computer Lab (Second Floor) to S-02 (Ground Floor).
The staircase to the first floor landing was unusually crowded.... Some sensible people stopped.... All the Sardar(s) went on.... Three-stair jump.... Enthusiasm fit.... Staircase trip.... OUCH!!!

I literally glided along\on my right foot, twisting the left....
Fell on my behind....
Rebounded....
Again fell....
Shouted....
Srishti came....
I sat upright....
(Elated....)
Hope renewed, thought of racing....
Just then Suresh Sir came....
I remembered my pain....
I ducked, almost crying....
He patted my mane....
(he) Found a joodi....
Cleared his hand away....
My toli of friends, held me, but swayed....
"Jyot", Tushar said "You must be over 100"....
I protested, "Not till I am a Father"....
Slowly, I got up, to go to the Clinic....
(Saksham; singing) "Babul ki duaye lete jaa"....
In the Clinic, Dr. Incompetent treated me....
While Dr. Incompetent 2 snored on the adjoining bed....
I called me mum....
Though it was not expected....
But she came....
Bas phir, I went to an X-RAY lab....
Got to know of my safe bone but torn ligament....
Got my leg plastered, and here, trapped for three weeks....
I am bidding my time....
In stillness and pain....

Though I am excited about my first plaster, but there is one thing that is more pressing. "Jab dard hoti hai, to Angelina Jolie bhi bhool jaati hai" (as quoted during a telephonic conversation with Matrix).

On a brighter note, I am coming on Monday with a Marker, so be prepared with some cool messages.

Bye

P.S. - People who care about me can call on 011-25224141/42464338.

A word from the author
The following is an attempted spoof at one of the Masti –Waale scenes from the movie Rang De Basanti. This did not turn out as I wanted it to be. It is not humorous (as much as it was deliberated). I had doubts about posting this. But over an hour spent without outcome is a big no for me.
So I want to tell you this:
1) First, that this one post is long, and if you have to read it, read it at one go.
2) If you have not seen Rang De Basanti, you might not enjoy it as much (or even those who have, might not enjoy it. See, I am honest about this.)
3) Instead of presenting humor, now that I see it, this stuff is more of a collection of vices of people, non harming verbal utterances of others, or just an exxxxxxxxxxaggeration from my side.
4) Take this all in good spirits. Don’t feel offended and stop talking to me if you feel so, despite my (polite) request here.
5) I think more than anyone else, Saksham will understand this the most.
6)Please Please Please, do not leave without posting a comment or even an insult.

So here goes, RANG DE BASANTI – The classroom.

The Cast
Sue: Matrix Dasgupta (Oh! We want someone slimmer)
Srishti Bhutani (Hahahahahahahahaha!)
Geetika Kaushal (Well, if she uses a fairness cream)
Soniya: Khushboo
Karan: Utsav Sharma
DJ: Tushar Dutt
Sukhi: Aman Hora
Aslam: Jyotaditya Singh
Major Ajay Rathod: Saksham Leekha
Laxman Pandey: Rohil Sinha

Special Appearance
Mehak Kapoor (as Mehak)
Srishti Bhutani (as herself)
Ritesh (for no defined or justified reason whatsoever)
Abhinav Goel (thanx abhi, for being there)

***Please visualize this as you read.
(On the way from the airport to Delhi University)
Sue: I am Sigmund Freud’s great great grand daughter. I have his personal notes and diaries. I have come all the way from Kanpur to New Delhi to make a documentary on Human Behavior.
Soniya: Don’t worry, we’ll do it together.

(Both reach Delhi University)
Soniya: Lets go to the classroom.
Sue: Yeah lets!!!

Scene 1 - The Classroom
Mehak (Dancing): Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala
Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala
(Aslam, Soniya and Sue)
Soniya: Meet Kaviraj Aslam, Sue.
Aslam: Hello…
Sue: I can see that you are suffering form acute inferiority complex.
Aslam: Huh?
Sue: Just look at yourself. Vibes of negativity, hatred and lust (lust???) are gripping everybody in your proximity. Ego centrism, conscious negligence… Oh heavens.
(looks at Aslam’s jade ring) Clearly you are suffering from acute Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It’s etched into your soul window. Attitude of yours is what that is wrong.
Aslam: What the hell are you talking about? I don’t think it is FAIR. WELL…

(Mehak pops out of thin air…. Starts dancing)
Mehak: Did you just say “farewell”?
“Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala
Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala”
Aslam: Liste…
Mehak: Hey, I know Richa ma’am.
“Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala
Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala”


(DJ and Sukhi are drinking beer. Sukhi goes TUN and collapses. Aslam and Karan rescue him. Mehak helps.)

Sukhi: Oye Aslam. Tune meri jaan bachaayi. (kisses Aslam)
(pauses… gratified)
Oye Karan, Tune bhi meri jaan bachaayi. (kisses Karan)
(Mehak looks up suggestively)
Sukhi (disgusted): Oye soch bhi mat. Wahaan jo kuch WHITE hona chahiye, woh YELLOW hai.

(Ritesh pops out of thin air and joins Mehak)

Ritesh: Mehak and I are just friends.
Mehak: A grumble of incomprehensible words…
(pauses… then smiles erringly)
Hey, I know Richa ma’am and I will report this to her.
Karan: Grunt. A rich grunt.

(Mehak and Ritesh… Dancing)
“Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala
Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala”

(Srishti comes along, hopping)
Srishti (singing): I sent a letter to my father and on the way I dropped it….
(to Karan): Yaar kaisa hai?
Karan: Bas tu bata.
Aslam: Aur tumhari VM ki classes kaisi chal rahi hai?
Srishti: Kya Bataaon. Raat bhar padti rahti hoon.
Aslam: Koi baat nahin. Raat ko Ullu, Saksham aur Khushboo bhi jaagte hai.
Srishti: Bilkool ZERRO masti hai. Bas jab shaam ko apne bhai ke saath cycling karti
hoon to.. (looking towards Karan, who conjures a large Louis Vuitton briefcase from nowhere. In this briefcase are 10 stacks of thousand rupee notes, A N-GAGE mobile phone, the entire music collection of Himesh Reshamiya and 10 lollipops.)
Karan: (handing the 10 lollipops to Srishti.)
Srishti: Thank you yaar. Good Bye.
Karan: Bye sir.
Srishti: Sir?
Karan: Oh! Sorry my lady, my liege, my queen (Bhutan???), but I learnt this habit from
Sir Karan Chawla.
Srishti: Okay. Bye then.
Karan: Hey listen.
Srishti: What?
Karan: Bye sir.

(Srishti slaps Karan, and feasting upon a lollipop, hops away)

Karan (Crying; To Aslam): Brothers Under The Sun.
Aslam: Grunt. A modest grunt. Not a rich grunt.

(Mehak and Ritesh)
“Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala
Apni to paathshaala, Masti ki Paatshaala”

Laxman: Band karo ye nanga naach. Kitni baar samjhana padega tum sabko ki is duniya mein Angelina Jolie ke alaawa, koi cheez achi nahin hai.

Aslam: Arrey Tujhe aur koi nahin pasand to idhar mat aa naa.
Laxman: Abbey Pakistani Joodi.
Ritesh (unable to control himself now): Do you know that Mehak and I are just friends and that she knows Richa ma’am?
Listen (Laxman) Pandey, and about nanga naach and Jolie, Have you not seen Original Sin?

(Aslam, Pandey, Karan, DJ, Sukhi and Major Ajay Rathod join together in chorus)
“ ummmmmmmmm oooooooo aaaaaaaaaa huhaaaaaah mmmmmmmmaaannn****@#*!@#$@#$@%^$&**)

(Laxman, overwhelmed at this turn, cannot channel his ecstasy, falling into a deep trance as he falls short of words and steps; he collapses there and then and presumably enters a vivid dream)
Laxman: Haiiiiiii, Angelina Jolie…………..umumummmmmmmmm,,,,,,,,,, Katrina Kaif….haaaaaaaaaaummmmmmmmmmm ummmmmmmmmmmmmommmmmmmm.

Abhinav (ad-libbing): MONEY IS POWER, TIME IS MONEY (TIME=MONEY x [GOEL’S quotient]), MONEY IS GOD, MONEY MONEY MONEY.
Matrix: Savvy, Farewell?

(Mehak and Ritesh join again with newfound zeal and exhilarating vigour)
Mehak and Ritesh (in chorus): Did you just say farewell?

“Apni to Paathshaala, Masti ki Paathshaala
Apni to Paatshaala, Masti ki Paathshaala”

TO BE CONTINUED.....

It’s nice to write again after quite some time and I have a reason for not doing so in so long. I wrote some things and then deleted them for I didn’t find them suitable to be posted. But here’s something I’ve been feeling very strongly about for quite long.
WARNING: I might sound like a forwarded e-mail, but you know, I’m writing this because I’ve begun to feel it beyond those e-mails, for real.

Movies. We watch them, love them, hate them, criticize them, and publicize them. But of late, I’ve been doing something that we seldom do (for the easy fact that some movies aren’t worth it). I’ve begun to feel them. It may sound funny, but before you laugh it off, listen to what I have to say. I watched a few movies recently (well, yeah, during the exams) and some of them have touched me very deeply. I don’t know if those movies did well, nor do I care. I don’t know if the actors are famous or not, I don’t know their names nor do I know when those movies were released and I don’t know whether they are classified as good movies or not. But the fact remains that they have penetrated me and have changed the person that I am.

I don’t know what you watch movies for, but as for me, I know I watch movies for anything the movies want to tell me. And most movies I watch tend to teach me something abstract. It is extremely like telepathy, something that is understood and cannot be explained by words. I’ve begun to fall in love with characters that make me feel life is good and hope that I meet someone like them for real. I’ve begun to appreciate life’s irony that is conspicuously hidden in these movies. I’ve begun to understand life and people much more than I’ve ever done in my life. I’ve found new meaning in my life after quite a few years of being absolutely disappointed. I’ve come to introspect and realize that things that I paid importance to were insignificant. For instance, all these years, I thought (out of innocence, obviously) that I am supposed to respect age and older people. But now I respect traits like creativity, humility, intelligence and charm more than age. I valued artificial applause more than heartfelt criticism. I valued those numbers on the report card more than what I learnt. I valued extraordinary-ism (if you know what I mean) over normality. But now I understand anything normal is equally extraordinary.

Yesterday, I watched a movie that stands out. And for no technical reason whatsoever. It stands out because it made me love it. It made me think about whether I really love the ones I must. The movie is called ‘If Only’ and it’s about how a British man in love with an American violinist has a dream about having broken her heart and she, after their verbal duel, gets into a cab which crashes at the very next junction in front of his eyes. It is this crash and her death that make him realize that he needs to love her more. And surprisingly, the entire dream becomes his next day. Everything begins to happen the way it did in his dream although in a different order. Which of course means that the cab she would be in would crash. So he does all he can to make her realise how much he loves her. Well, it might be very immaterial a thing for you to relate to, but I don’t know why, I could sense the intense emotions flowing between the lovers. I could feel his helplessness at knowing that the cab was going to crash. And in it all, he does all he can to make her day, her last day. The thought of knowing death so closely, the thought of facing it, the grief, the sadness, I could feel everything.

I’ve learnt to sink in heart-shattering things like defeat, frustration and death. I’ve learnt that they are the realities of life and the triumph of coming out of them is ‘beautiful’. Innocence and not ignorance is bliss is what I think. I think we must spread as much happiness around as possible. We must spread prosperity and (if you won’t laugh) must live a ‘feel good’ life. There are people in our lives all around, who come into our lives for a purpose. Our parents, siblings, friends, teachers and even people walking by us on the street – they’re all there to give us something, and we better take it if we think it good enough.

Most importantly, I’ve begun to understand that thing they call love, at an age when it is easy to misunderstand it. Things have been said about love, and repeated so many times that we fail to take notice of them – of it not being bound, of it not being discriminative, of it not being only sexual. But now, I think I am grasping the gravity of all this. In most Indian movies, love is shown to be a sort of madness that sparks up between two people at a bus stop and ends up in their fighting the society to prove its truthfulness. But truly, love is much more conscious, it is more calm and more intelligent than any other emotion. Its very existence is divine AND it is not necessary to prove to the world that you’re in love by jumping off buildings or doing mad things.

But hey, why am I telling you all this? There is a reason.

We’ve been studying these things about how life must be lived fully in the present and we must spread smiles around and all that stuff in English textbooks. But it seems they’ve been ineffective. Because we hardly remember them let alone put them to use. And perhaps I know the reason why. Because they’re not told as subtly as in the movies. These things are taught to us like E is equal to m c square. But I think they’d be more effective if we were shown visual stimuli that could generate natural and passionate feelings about life. And these visual stimuli could well be movies. Whatever we’re watching in those one-and-a-half or two or three hours is much beyond just entertainment. It’s developing us every moment. And after all, all education seeks to develop the body and the soul. Another reason for telling you all of this is that if we all harbour an attitude of trying to learn from these little things in life, how wonderful everything would be. Because it is in these little things that life’s most intrinsic secrets are hidden.

I’d like you to give it a serious thought and tell me what you feel. If you think this post is trash, so be it; if you think it’s worth a thought, please give it one. And then tell me what you think about the same, about learning our lessons (in life) from something so ‘routine’ as watching movies, or any other thing, like observing a small child or the skies or anything.

My congratulations to those who've passed with great marks(srishti,abhi,rohil,mehak etc);those who didn’t flunk in any of the exams and barely survived the finals(me,khushboo,maitreyee etc);those who flunked in one or two but
wont be taking the retests(jyot,aman hora,tushar etc); and those who flunked and are a part of the retest thing but have decided to work hard for the same .Jyot's "Naked We Stand" was exceptionally good and true.
Talking about Jyot, thre’s one thing that always come to my mind...
Before you start reading the rest, my sincere apology for not using words as beautiful and complicated as Abhi and Jyot do. The following is in very simple language but without any exaggerations.
IN DDA SPORTS COMPLEX WITH JYOTADITYA SINGH
I know, Jyot, you are happy about me writing this. Well one of my and Jyot's most favourite hangouts is the nearby sports complex (not as near to Jyot’s place as to mine. and Jyot always has a complaint regarding the distance)
I call him up or he does, decide to be there at 7 pm or sooner. One of us is always late (which has been me since the last 4 times).Reach there, play badminton for ten minutes or less, and the rest is the best part of it.
Well, if we two are without BUTI or ISHAN,the rest is bound to happen. Well, we buy four Pepsi bottles each, leave the badminton courts and walk into the field. And there we talk n talk n talk. Talk about everything and anything. Anything at all.
Why VIII class was better than XI ? What exactly Srishti meant by saying a particular thing about me or Jyot? What is the difference between Abhinav,Rohil,Srishti kinda people and Me,Jyot and Tushar kinda people?
How are they better than us?how are we better?(and Jyot has no point on this generally, though I have many)How badly we miss Geetikas and X class?Why do people think i am neglecting my old friends and making new popular ones?
And why has my attitude towards some people changed in the past?Well school affairs are not all...Why me into rap and lp?jyot into gladiator, tlotr and Lion King music? and technology is another theme we usually discuss. And Jyot knows about that much more than me.
This is not all. The discussions are endlessly long. And we actually speak our hearts out to each other. And the most beautiful part of it demands more visualization from those reading this than any of the Wordsworth poems. Nighttime.. Just the two of us around..
Sitting by the pool side(The pool is not in use. so no major distractions).... Light wind blowing. Or we two lie down in the field.. My head on Jyot's arm...faint orange light from the swimming pool side ..Observe the stars while talking about the things mentioned..
And then we get up(neither of us has realized that we have been lying for more than an hour).And nearby there's a Chinese food stall from where we buy two full noodles. Sit on the red stony thing and enjoy the food.(if we've ordered only one plate, we fight for the plate with more of them)
Stand up, Jyot looks for a rickshaw. I wait till he finds one. And we leave for our places. While going back on foot, looking around, I wonder “Were these the best two hours of my life?”. And I reach home; mom gets me a glass of water thinking that I am really tired after playing for two hours.
Something she doesn’t know is the cutest masti I’ve had with this surd who's been willing for five years not to be one.
Perhaps the above doesn’t seem as beautiful to you as it actually is. A part of it because of you not being there and seeing the things happen. And partially because of my over simple and inexpressive language.
SAKSHAM

“NAUTANKI”- this is what was Saksham’s immediate reaction with the slightest mention of my boyfriend. Not that he doesn’t believe in this b.f. /g.f. stuff as he himself has a girlfriend, (I know I need not mention her name as everybody is aware of her,) but because of some other reasons.
Sometimes, I feel as if my identity is now synonymous with the word “Nautanki”. I mean yes, I know I tend to overreact all the time and I do overreact sometimes. All my worthy friends know that. But what they really fail to understand is that it’s a completely involuntary course of action. I mean I know I talk loudly, not deliberately but because it’s my habit. If I jump and go out of the class because of a stupid lizard, that’s not my Nautanki but my fright for reptiles and insects and all other tiny, slithery and loathing creatures. If I shouted at Jyot when he revealed the climax of “the angels and the demons”, I did so because I knew I was justified. I am sure any person would have felt the same except that they would have expressed it in a different and may be in a more sophisticated manner. It’s just that me-shouting-at-him-at-the-top-of-my-voice is classified as a Nautanki. If I say that my bf is sweet I say so because he is sweet and not because I want to make a fool of myself.
The difference is just this much that as I express my feelings loud and clear, it qualifies me as a nautankibaaz. But let me make it clear that I am in no mood to change myself. So my wonderful friends, I am afraid you have to tolerate the nautankibaaz matrix another year the way you have been tolerating since the last three years.
As I am writing this article, I could have head on accused some people and could have written about their traits, but I am writing this on a more of a defensive note, because I really don’t have the mentality now to pick up a blog fight which is quite common in our blog. And Jyot, finally i am back.

I don’t know how to begin, so I think writing that I don’t know is a novel way.
I told Abhinav, I am writing NAKED WE STAND. He thought I was gonna portray my shower(ing). But it is not about me being naked literally (you wouldn’t have relished it even if it was, of this I am sure), it is about the system that has fuc*** us and we who have let it fu** us. Not because it is invincible, but our lameness, our inactiveness and our lack of will to work has landed us here.
I don’t know if it is a good idea to write this here. Perhaps its not even justified. When you commit a mistake consciously, there can be no excuse for it. And as it happens, these mistakes are insanely hard to ‘leave’ and forget.
About the mistake – I fear that I might not touch the 33 boundary in Chemistry, that surely gives an insight.
The reasons that I can formulate now for this disaster are such utter-nonsense-things. Watching Lord of the Rings over and over, listening to the scores of the Lion King, When and where James Braddock fought in Cinderella Man, What was the sarcasm that Mulch Diggums slapped on Julius Root in The Eternity Code,  The number of hits on Blogger Marauders, ‘Chemistry Sucks’ in all Chemistry periods, Harsha-Humour everyday.
These are NOT the reasons for all the crap life has brought me. But all these gave me a very clumsy approach, acceptance of performance scrape and complacency in letdown.
Gross, yeh kya ho gaya yaar?
I sometimes feel that all you people whom I call friends are repelled by my incompetence. If you aren’t, then I am thankful.
Please, listen to this carefully.
To all you people who I consider more sensible (Abhinav, Rohil, Matrix and others), please keep tabs on me. Keep me checked and down-trodden.
I never have had any positive thoughts about myself, but there is something that I know, that I am more than what I have become.  

Hey folks,

It's a new season. We're going into class 12, a new year and a newfound seniority. So when everything's new, how can bloggermarauders stay behind! It's just got itself a swanky new look. Tell us what you make of it and whether we should make any changes to it. Also, if you can suggest some good websites where we can get great templates, please do.

Psst... if you don't like it, tell us right away. We're on the look out for improvements, but I think it's a pleasant change.

Abhi

DISCLAIMER:
1>The author bears no resposibility for any objectionable content(i dont see anything objectionable in there!!) in the article. If u find anything objectionable, kindly close ur eyes while reading it (lets see how u do it!!!)
2>Reading of this article requires patience. Read it if u have it.

How the heart can change? How ur feelings can change? How u can change? Now, before u get down to some of those baba ramkrishna talk, please take the dirtiest, filthiest, rubbish(iest) thing in view in ur hands (I wonder if that thing happens to b a hammer!!), close ur eyes(u will need to!), and like a devout jehadi(i.e. without applying any common sense) bang ur head thrice(in somecases, only twice) with that thing. Then, u r ready to further read the article. Now, after all that shit, lets come down to the point.

A few weeks back,when I commented that I hated pizzas so much that when I saw one I started getting nighmarish visions of rags, started to have convulsions more violent and dangerous than those that I get during chemistry classes,and yes people, believe it or not, I was WRONG. Now, u must b wondering how a hardcore pizza-jehadi turned into a pizza-worshiper. It’s a long story. U need some time to listen to it properly.Here it goes but before that grab some popcorn and start munching(at least pretend to do so!!!!!)

It was a long and lonely night. I was a warrior, defeated and bruised, torn apart by that invincible,horrible, terrible enemy called organic chemistry in the school. Red drops of frustation lined my eyebrows. I felt like dying(not really!!). And then I had an idea. Why should I b defeated by such a f**k**g enemy as chemistry. Why not take on a bigger enemy and declare my supremacy. And it took approximately 0.004576 nanoseconds to realize my new foe. It had to b that repellant #$%#$ called PIZZA. I decided to face it eye to eye my soul fuelled by that invincible desire. All ready and dressed up , I marched towards PIZZA HUT. In 5 minutes, I was standing at its gate all ready to take the enemy by horns and squash it to the ground. It was all “aaj to tu gaya….teri to… ek jhapad lagaoonga….” All Tushar Dutt style.I entered the enemy’s territory. It was a different realm which deserves a new paragraph.

The first thing(or rather “things”) my eyes noticed (they r pretty trained at that) were…uhhhnn.......u can guess it…..cmon……obviously, girls, yaar!!! Forget that god-damn revenge and my so called dreaded enemy called pizza. It was all ------(u know what!!). Look anywhere, and ur sight fell upon a gem(jyot!! U need to check this out). Gems here, gems there, gems up, gems down,gems left, gems down. I decided to take a corner seat(sitting in the middle would have been very painful. Rotating ur neck by 360 degrees all thru the time is not an easy task, I tell u.). The entire landscape visible to my eyes. Then, in the landscape come that rock i.e. the waiter. He quickly burbled ”goo mornin ser watt wud u lik to tak”. Clearly, he had rotted it as we do in exams. “gimme a non-veg piza with anything” I said with my eyes still on the landscape. But this stone was heavy. He didn’t move. He said”heer is da manu. Plaz salact ur choise”. That damn … I don’t wanna get into the details(and by the way, there were all waiters there.No waitresses). I quickly ordered anything…presumably… a non-veg pan pizza with coke and ice-cream. And got back to the real buziness. But I realized that I was not as much curious now. Ur eyes r blinded only in the beginning.After that. They adjust. Then I took a look at other things. It was a really nice and cozy place. Waiters running faster than gargantuan spiders, people shouting like waterfalls, almost half of the ppl deriving pleasure drom seeing the cheese layer over their pizzas stretch rather than eating them. I concluded that it was a cool environment. Till the pizza came, I enjoyed the “landscape” further more.

Then came my dreaded enemy , the Pizza. My immediate rxn was Yuck!!!!. But then I controlled my highly volatile emotions. Took a piece and placed it in front of my mouth (my soul screaming at the pizza “aaja beta…aaj teri khabar leta huun…aaja”). But as soon as it went inside ,I was changed. No more hating pizzas, no more wasting my mental energy calling it $%^&$%#. I realized that this pizza was GOOD real Good. The base was like a crunchy ……(I don’t know what), the chicken pieces mesmerizing, my heart paying homage to that brave chicken,the cheese more stretchable than rags’ ego. It was a divine experience. Really divine. Now, u must b wondering how mucha person can change, arent you??Let me tell u something. Search for a guy who loves chemistry(that will take u a decade at least) and get him to attend a chemistry class in our school and u will realize how much a person can possibly change. Anyways, I enjoyed that pizza and coke and sundae more than I had enjoyed watching those “gems”. It was getting late. I decided to leave absoultely satisfied.

In the end , I paid the bill. I was given a piece of paper on which certain questions were written. For e.g. how did u like our service? How was our food? Etc… There was one more question –“How do u think we can improve ourselves?”. I wrote down :

”Its quite cold in here. Why not get a few waitresses???”

Comment or else u r same as that waiter at Pizza Hut

God has blessed my hair with an overwhelming sense of growth. They see potential in every inch of skin with certain pores to pout into. Not only that, it’s not only growth, its reproduction too. Everyday (or the days when I manage my hair), half of the growth sheds off like leaves from a tree in autumn (severe?).
I wonder where these traits came from. Is it because my father and his, his father and my great-great grandfather and his, have all had abundance in this segment of the body?
Have the genes of the male line of our family been altered to facilitate such hair growth and make us all hounded bears?
And the worst part is, I cannot cut my hair. Why so?
My mother says, “You have been born into a Sikh family. You must respect tradition.”
“Then why, may I ask, have you cut your hair?”
“I spent my days in my parent’s house in the fashion they wanted me to be in. I have outgrown that phase and now have the right to live this way.”
After many heated discussions, she agrees upon a work – to - win condition.
“Clear the IIT – JEE exam and get your hair cut. Anything before that-turn around, bend, I’ll kick your behind and get out of my house”
And here, all matters end.
Is keeping hair, such a bad idea? After all, we are a secular country. Why should one not be what he is?
Not that I have faced any discrimination or anything (except for 2-3 cases. One at the swimming pool, another at Mc Donald’s and even sometimes while just walking on the road)
But I have seen people so orthodox about this whole matter, that I am repelled by the whole package.
To those who are orthodox, I would deliberately go up to, in an ‘unacceptable manner’, and fight for what I believe,
There is an old Sardar uncle on the very next road, who stares up at me like anything when I go in front of him, with my hair untied. And this I do, most willingly, deliberately and HAPPILY.
Many know already, that I love to roam around the entire city, with my hair untied, enjoying people looking at me once, then turning their necks again, noticing my beard (again, a neck-turn), and noticing me in the whole.

Where does it begin from, and where does it end?
Phew!!!

Those who read and don’t post a comment S**K.

Yo people!!! after an extensive poll which lasted for almost a month, We have our exlusive winner(no surprises there!!). The question was: Who deserves a really good banging
and the results are~
A) Vinayak Chunni(for his sporting behaviour)- 24%
B) Subash Tomar(for reasons we all know)-2%
C) Ragini Kaul(for never leaving the school gym for students)-69%
D) Aruna Ummat(for making us sit in front of her room)-2%
E) I here by declare that i am a peaceul guy\gal\middlesex and banging is a big noooooo!!!-2%

As u can very well see, we had a clear cut winner in rags(thats her nickname). surprising that B and D got so less votes. Someone even voted for E. disgusting!!Vinayak Chunni was one of the favs to win. but anyways, better luck next time chunni!!!

Also, as u can see on the left hand side, there is a new poll. The question is very difficult(controversial actually!!). Every option is a better answer than the other. Its going to b really interesting to see who wins. Anyways, keep voting!!!!!!!!!

I,SAKSHAM LEEKHA, am writtin dis 2 show dat flurting and being jealous of AB*****(read rohil’s article;though i doubt if its dere coz he just had a stupid fight wid jyot) are not the only things I know.....Thank u Matrix 4 writing 'my name' in ur text......I am obliged....n thank u matrix 4 dat wonderful text on DCH.........n thank u matrix 4 dat chocolate on 'saksham's chocolates day'......n thank u matrix 4 being such a nice friend.....(see i ve written ur name thrice..so all debts end)N after reading those Abhinav articles...I wonder if Abhi can write , than a jerk like Divesh can win a Nobel Prize.....So I ve decided to write this…..forgive me if its too boring. and yes you are free to delete this(though u would break my heart)
I think DCH is one of the greatest movies we’ve had in India..... Yes Kal Ho Na Ho is equally good...so this is about KHNH
Things we can learn from KHNH(if not learn atleast relate ourselves with)
There’s an angel in every being on this earth, its just that it takes full form once u see ur Preity Zinta.....
Never go on a blind date(although my experience contradicts dis)....u may end up with Kanupriya Arora(still waiting for her Prince Charming....Now thats what i call PATIENCE)
Bug up Sanchit,even Laila found her dog, you are a little better.......so dont worry man
(Did you people notice SANCHIT has changed his HAIRSTYLE......bande mein ATTITUDE aagaya hai)
Even if you are the best of friends dont hug each other too frequently(like me n utsav sumtines do) n never share a bed(ab tak we havent done dat) .....dont let your truest friendship be misunderstood....
Beware of Nimish n sidharth......they do act KANTABHEN pretty frequently.....but if you are actually a gay call DR. OOOHHHNATH KARKARKAR(sex and vd) 9869696969 you may find help dere...
Spend days n NIGHTS with SHE-WANTS-UR-MONEY girls...but don’t let her impress your parents.....
"Mera pehla aur akhiri pyaar Lajjoji" guys n gals LOVE mein caste no bar, ,aukad no bar, and AGE no bar........so its not impossible to see ABHINAV n UMMAT roaming about in school hand-in-hand...
i personally feel these two beat Pallav N Sonakshi........

*To be continued........

Posted by-SAKSHAM

i jst thought of posting something serious. so here are some lessons worth learning from D.C.H. ok guys D.C.H. by now might be quite cliched but i love it still.

Things we can learn fromDil Chahta Hai.......

*Freaking out and enjoying life doesn't need drugs or cigarettes or any other wrong actions.
*There are relationships apart from bf/gf, marriage,siblings,friendship that canbe very emotional and true. which is beyond the understanding of many people.
*And yeah even though u may be the best of friends there is always a limit which should never be crossed. Then it starts hurting...........
*Improving ur imperfections after you realize it, always take some time.
*You always don't need to show or prove your gf/bf how much u love or care about her/him, which can sound very boring and finally u r dumped.
*Never be ashamed to go back to your old friends, friends are there to understand your mistakes.
*Do not be afraid of others, always think that others r afraid of you.(Australian Beggar )
*Whenever you need your friend , remember that he is just a phone call away...distances can't separate friends
*In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
*It's the friends you can call up at 4 A. M. for that matter.
*The only unchangeable certainty is that nothing is certain or unchangeable.
*The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with - never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.
That's my version of DCH for u (must be bored to death by now.)

Who doesn’t know of our Maths teacher’s flair for extraordinarily uncommon and sophisticated language! However hard I might try to refrain myself from getting distracted by the occasional insertion of exotic words in her language, I invariably stray from relations and functions into a delirium induced from it. And, also she sort of likes to take the path less trodden in framing her sentences. Take a look and you’ll know on your own.

Normal Human Being (NHB): If 'x' equals 'a' plus 'b'…
Our Maths Teacher (OMT): In the highly probable event of there being a variable, which for those lost in their sleepy bliss, is generally taken to be 'x', which happens to be the algebraic sum of two more variables (of the same kind as 'x') which here are being represented by the first and the second letters of the English alphabet which again happen to be 'a' and 'b'… (phew!)

NHB: Stop talking!
OMT: Have you been programmed to start off as soon as I enter the classroom and go on blabbering till the end of it, irrespective of the shouting of the woman who’s standing here and screaming her lungs out? Absolutely incorrigible. (and half the class thinks she’s mispronouncing encouragable.)

NHB: I’ll send you outside the class!
OMT: Child, don’t consider yourself too lucky that you’ve not been sent outside the class yet; I want you to know that it is me who is being considerably considerate in not having compelled myself to send you out yet. Believe me, as long as my legs can support my weight throughout the class, you are under constant danger.

I think ‘that’s about it’. Well, if you can think of any more, do type them out and submit them. (Guys, forgive the exaggeration, it’s all in good spirit.)

Lets talk something spicy(spicy a.k.a school).I have dozens of wonderfulllll( its not ironic) friends at school which in random order are ....its a long list( for more details refer to my class teacher Suman ma'am for the class list). Let me explain some of them.
1> JYOT -(from whom i got inspired to blog. actually, he has not published anything on his blog since mallika sherawat was a decent woman. thats ages ago). Jyot.....hmmm....let me think. Should i decribe him as a rather shy guy who ironically has been after someone since class 7th. i wont tell who) or as someone whose looks are pretty deceiving i.e. he seems to be a member of one of those van diesel street gangs( big,tall, dominant persona) but when u talk to him he is as harmless as saurav ganguly while batting. Perhaps the last time he hurt anyone was a mosquito who was sitting on his nose. he just sneezed and the mosquito got scared emotionally and flew away crying. it hadnt expected this from him). So now u know how peaceful he is. Anyways, seriously , he is one nice guy.He never reacts or shouts , keeps eating during chemistry and physics period, downloads 1 GB everyday from net and all that).So thats him, as i said, the Mahatma Gandhi of our class.his blog is :legolasheir.blogspot.com

2>Abhi-(ABHINAV GOEL)- he is the shakespeare of our class. Pronounce one word wrong in front of him and u r in real trouble. Actually, i do pronounce many words wrong in front of him intentionally to irritate him. Well, he is the cutie pie of our teachers. Teachers always saying -"ohh, he is so well behaved, he is so good and nice" and all that blah blah( maybe beacuse of his spectacles who make him look like gandhi). also, he was the ONE, the King , the emperor of our class till class 10.Now, let me tell somethings i know about him. He wants to run away to some foreign country as soon as possible, finds priyanka chopra very sexy and hot and alluring in "right here right now" video, hates English music(ironic as he himself is like shakespeare), is a miser , doesnt spend a paisa, is very particular about completing his practicals and notes and all that. He is also the cutie pie of all the earlier A section girls. What a scene it used 2 b with abhinav at the centre and all the girls around him chattering and chattering and chattering through out. It did make many people very jealous like S------ and T----.So he has enjoyed his life a lot , more than anyone else. also, he has gone to USA due to his poetry. it is pretty good. So thats him, Abhiiiiiiiiiiiiinav Goelllllllllll.
HEY, I HAVE BEEN TYPING SINCE LAST ONE HOUR and will write about others very soon.

ARAGORN

Great news people, (although not news any more), Pizza Hut is now in Sector 5, Dwarka, and that too just a stone's throw away from my place! You can't imagine how anxiously I have waited for this to happen, because I've not had a proper pizza in the past four and a half years! Domino's provides no solace, it's pizza is as bad as having it made by your bai! And you bet I am happy, considering I'm taking the pains to use so many 'z's in my post, which is quite difficult because the letter z doesn't work on my keyboard.

Nevertheless, not being able to control my anxiety any further, I went to Pizza Hut with my family last Monday. And what an experience it was! It seems like you've entered an entirely different world, what with delicious pizzas plastered on the walls, and bell-peppers and tomatoes engraved on the interiors! I felt my tummy pounding like hell to ingest all of it in one go. Yet, I had to control myself till I was easily seated on the fresh furniture. I gazed at the menu card, brought by an enthusiastic Mr Manmohan who said, "I'll be waiting at your table tonight, so please tell me what you want." I was staring at the sumptuous-looking steaming pizzas unable to decide which ones to settle for. So my sister did the ordering and we relished the meal for two and a medium sized pizza. But the best part of the entire visit, was the dance that all the waiters performed for I dunno who. Suddenly out of the blue, RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW began to sound, and thanks to Rohil's revelation, everyone knows how I like that song. And all the waiters from every nook and cranny of the restaurant left all their jobs and started dancing! Most of them were bad at it, but they all did it and it was so much fun! I wished I was amongst them.

We had ice-cream topped with chocolate for dessert after having a spicy Freshizza (it's good btw). But anyway, it cheered me up even more when Manmohan ji brought us the bill. We had eaten to our heart's (heart's kya, tummy, liver, intestine, everything's) content and it cost us just three hundred. But even more delightful was the cute little smiley on the bill that said, "We enjoyed waiting on you!" I think India's hospitality industry (particularly Air India) needs some of this kind of training.

I really hope some of you take me for a treat there again! Anybody want a practical file?

hey everyone,
instead of making efforts to make this blog a really nice place to visit and without any reason angering foaly, i have decided to leave this bloggy thing for a while. now, before anyone starts to pin-point like"look, he is showing so much of damn attitude!!!", let me clarify that this blog will be better without me and my so called crap actions. consequently , i have deleted all my posts and all those "special features".foaly, we will b great friends as usual in real life and school, but i dont want to hurt ur sentiments over what other people think abt ur actions(u know what i mean!!).so,bye, i might b back sometime in the future maybe after the final exams.

Keep the blog rocking!!!!!!!!!
bye
-aragorn

Guess who we're talking about!

Who's this woman with attitude up her sleeve?
No single person does she spare or leave.
Must be rags, must be rags, must be rags…

Who's this woman with anger on her nose?
Mess with her and you get a nice dose.
Must be rags, must be rags, must be rags…

Who's this woman with a made-up accent?
She reeks of danger like it's her fave scent.
Must be rags, must be rags, must be rags…

Who's this woman obsessed with the gym?
Wonder what's next, is she going to swim?
Must be rags, must be rags, must be rags...

Who's this woman with a snob for a daughter?
Every second person she's ready to slaughter!
Must be rags, must be rags, must be rags...