MMM

How can I not put this quote by one of our profs:

I think, and other professors agree with me that there has been a deliberate attempt on the part of students to lower the class average.

Long live MMM.

9211

Whenever quizzes seem to come, I feel like running away from earth.
Engineering should be done with in two years.

PhD Sex

He was tired from the day's work. An entire day of experimentation had gone futile. His brainwave had not worked. It's one of those days again, he thought, recollecting the million days he'd had to deal with depression, with the constant voice in him asking him to fight. As the porche whizzed at 200, he slipped in the Dark side of the Moon.

His stress level gradually began to reduce with Gilmour's riffs in the background. He loved the two hour drive back home. Somewhere, his heart was brimming with joy. He was going to meet Diana, his love four years back. He started recollecting why they'd broken up, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. He was going to meet her anyway. The thought excited him, and somehow made him thirsty. He got down at a bar, had a quick drink, and jumped back in. Suddenly, beauty seemed to envelop him. Buildings, traffic signals, lamp posts, dustbins. Perception could change suddenly, he realized. There seemed to be a hundred Dianas in front of him. He made sure he drove carefully. Having to keep your concentration on the road at this moment was like asking a zoo keeper inside a cage to solve a calculus problem. In an hour, he was at Diana's.

'So, you're doing your Phd is it?' she asked.

'Umm, yeah. In Nanolithography. I'd give you my car, if you know what that is', he joked.

'You know what, it's these jokes that I've been missing all these years. You just make me so happy when we're together', she chuckled.

'I don't even know why we, you know, umm, broke up. It was just a stupid thing to do', she added.

'Yup. That's right'. He decided to stay a little quiet. These women, you never know what's going through their head, he thought.

'So, you're here for a vacation or something?', he asked.

'Kinda, ya. Am leaving tomorrow'. Her face suddenly turned sad.

'So what, we have the whole of tonight, right?', he said.

And he immediately realized what he'd just said. He wished he could swallow his words back. Why did sound have such a great speed. Duh.

'What?', came the response.

'Oh, no. I really didn't mean what I said. Just forget the last line', he persuaded.

'But, see, umm, I don't want to', she said.

'Ya, even I don't want to, I just uttered crap, which was crap, and didn't mean a crap'.

Words just don't come out when you're nervous, he thought.

'No, I meant I don't want to forget what you said', she quipped.

It was his turn now. 'What?', he asked.

'Yeah, lets make love', she said.

Wowow. What was happening? This was more shocking than the result he got last week, that a nanogram of pulverised electrolysed copper zirconate had enough energy to trigger a big bang. He was over the moon on getting that result, not realizing that if true, it meant that he could destroy the universe and himself. He had gone with the result to his guide only to be dismissed in less than a nanosecond, with a suggestion that he eat up all the copper zirconate in this world, just to be safe. This situation seemed similar, but somehow distinct. His mind was going through just too many things at a time. He just couldn't take it longer.

When a girl you have had relationships with in the past tells you a statement of that vigour, when you're single, it's hard to ignore. Or say no. He had loved her. He didn't, now. But she was gorgeous as ever. 'It's alright, there's nothing wrong', he convinced himself. His mind didn't want to make a decision, but his body seemed to make the mind do so. It was awkward though.

They started talking. In a short while, talking dirty. Within a matter of minutes, they were back to where they were four years back. Was it for the good? Only time would tell.

'Come on, don't waste time', she said.

'For once, I realise the importance of time', he joked.

Both of them went up to her bedroom. It was a classy bed which looked all silky, and seemed as if she had prepared it for him. It was grayish in colour, and he distinctly disliked it as anything grey seemed to remind him of Aluminium. 'Has she been planning this?', he thought. It didn't matter. As his PhD guide used to tell him, only results matter. Now, why did the guide have to come to his mind at a very embarrassing moment. He tried hard to forget everything and focus just on the moment. He sort of succeeded.

They were in bed. It was quite a while really since he was this close to somebody, leaving apart a few silica chips that seemed to make a part and parcel of his life. Four years. His mind was wandering again in the past, though he seemed to beg it not to do so. He hugged her. She hugged him. They started kissing, with his hands moving about in chaotic motion, similar to what a man would do if he suddenly realised he'd lost his keys and started to search all his pockets. He wished he had a Hooks joint at his shoulder instead of a Ball and Socket one. That would give him more degrees of freedom. Or would it? He started counting, when her hands stroked his head. This seemed to take away any possible thinking he wanted to do.

They say, with a girl you've been wanting for a long time, you think of her day and night. When you're with her in bed, you think of everything but her. You lose your mind. The semi conscious state starts dominating. He couldn't control his mind, and it went from thinking about the time he had ice cream with his guide, to that when he had a tiff with someone on the road. All this when he was kissing her. He noticed small hairs above her lips, uniformly separated with a low density per unit length. They seemed so similar to the nano fins he had studied in heat transfer, and wondered if god actually meant to give these triangular fin like hairs just so that there in enhanced heat transfer by convection. Miraculous indeed. He was a millisecond close to letting out a laugh, when he controlled himself. Even with all this, he seemed to enjoy the moment. His hands made more uniform motion now, his mind automatically allotting fixed time for his hands to explore each part. He realised the amazement of this parallel processing of the mind, and recollected his 'Parallel processing' course in undergraduate studies. He immediately stopped thinking about it when he remembered he had got an E in that course. Damn that prof.

He slowly started to undo the knots in her dress. He seemed to do it so carefully and slowly, after the previous month's disaster when he was untying the threads of a beam which was hanging from an experimental roof, untied it fully, and it fell down before he could get his hands to catch the beam. A very bad impression on his guide, which he hoped didn't increase his prospective time of stay at the institute getting a PhD. Finally he managed to undo them.

Her body seemed just perfect, with uniform distribution of matter throughout the entire volume. He remembered the nightout he had put in his college days debating over the topic 'Is the human body density constant'. He didn't seem to recollect the result of the debate. He clenched his fists in anger, but didn't realise that his fists were already clenching distinct pieces of highly viscous matter.

Now, it was her turn. He seemed very uncomfortable and numb, when she began what he could only call a systematic procedure of disassociating his dress from his body. They were both, without clothes, in bed. 'The next few minutes would be blissful', he thought. He started wondering how it would be if he meshed her body for a Finite Element Analysis. Tough, he concluded. He started to kiss different parts of her body, and made an observation: The temperatures seemed equal everywhere. He remembered his professor telling him that Isothermal surfaces are very difficult to create in practice. Well, here was one perfectly beautiful isothermal surface.

'You know what?', he said
'Yes?', she replied, taking time to listen to him.
'You have a scientifically perfect body', he confidently remarked.
'Expected from a PhD', she said and started continuing, again, what he could call only a uniform scrutiny of his body parts without permission.

They started making love. This was the best thing he had done in life. It was perfectly satisfying, and was one of the very few situations where someone else could satisfy him.He lost his mind for a while. But still continued. This was brilliant, he thought. Why? He couldn't think.
He could now appreciate why tribology was important. Indeed, without it, life would be difficult. No wonder mankind realised the importance and dedicated a separate subject to it, only to be studied and researched by people who could experience it only with shafts and bearings and the likes. After a while, she came on top of him. Ouch, it hurt. He silently began to recollect how many lab specimens were in his position, when he had tortured them with tensile test, torsion test and what not. He apologized to them. But Diana didn't have any plans of apologizing to a man who she thought was appreciating her body immensely, but was actually apologising to all the steel rods that were in a position similar to his.

After a while, she stopped and started going down his body. Then she did something which he could only call a pulsating rapid motion which scared him initially nevertheless prompted his mind to tell her to go on. Why hadn't he thought of this for thirty years? Never mind. Discoveries are made with time. Whatever it was, he felt good. This continued for a while, till it reached a point where it reached a climax, when he was moving farther and farther away from this universe, and suddenly came back to his bed. Aah, what was that? Yes, it was similar to a zener breakdown. But he got scared. Most of the zeners dont work after a breakdown. What about this then?! He dismissed the thought, being optimistic.

He was tired at the end of it. He wasn't sure how tired she was. But she seemed to carry on with the pulsating rapid motion, but he didn't seem to enjoy it any more. He asked her to stop. She did. They got out, had a bath, and left downstairs.

They started talking when he got a call. It was from his guide.

'Where are you? I have some foreign visitors to show around, in the lab, and you're missing. I'm very upset. What the hell are you doing? Come to the lab right away', his guide screamed.

'Sir, I have been experimenting a lot. I have found something which might interest you', he said

'What's that'?, his guide barked

'A ready made isothermal surface'.

'Wow! This could be remarkable! It's okay. Take your time. I'll show them around'.

'Alright sir'.

rovaf

Shaastra SEO!

Shaastra Thamesportal Zalecenia Autophytes

Thought

I discovered so many things I want to do in my life

1. Be a strategy consultant for a while.
2. Spend 2-3 years doing research in Organic Chemistry.
3. Spend 2-4 years researching in Electrodynamics.
4. Teach students for JEE.
5. Invent some new kinematic mechanism.
6. Start a school
7. Work in the investment banking sector for a few years.
8. MBA from Harvard.

Is this possible?
I don't think so. So, lets forget it.

Intern, Duh

Eight hours, of Group Discussion and Interview at the Placement office, finally I got through ITC for an intern next summer. 7 of us got through out of 220 odd who had applied. I must be celebrating, you think. In fact, that's almost the last thing I feel like doing now. A couple of my close friends didn't make it, and I feel really really bad. There's no more excitement left in me, no ecstasy, no nothing. I wanted all the guys in the spons team who applied to make it through. There's this kind of bonding thats there between us that I feel so uneasy that two of us have made it and the other two haven't. Plain uneasiness.

One of them, my closest pal in IITM. And he wanted it so much. There's no way in this world he can't get. But as we all know, shit happens. And it was his turn today. Dammit. Only if we were allowed to interchange interns.

The other, a true stud. I've been in a lot of situations with him, and I know he's just an awesome speaker. The first time it actually helped me. Was in the same GD as me, interviewed by the same guy. Frankly, I just couldn't have pulled off the GD the way I did, without him. He just lead the GD with utter ease, with the leadership quality that comes so naturally to him. I became a sort of his facilitator, and we pulled it off in a nice way. You're worth more than just this maga. There's a Lehman or a Goldman waiting for you.

There's no way I'm better than any of you; the world doesn't always help the best, does it?

Forgetting all that, if any of you juniors are reading this, a few points:

1. It is NOT easy to get into ITC Ltd.
2. Keep your CG high. It's a must.
3. Do your GD well. Speak well, and speak sense.
4. Do a lot of extra currics. Only high CG DOES NOT help.

Umm

By getting into IIT, I was supposed to set an example to my little sister.
I've been partly successful : She now listens to Rammstein and does Maths.

Orkut

Whoever knows me on orkut, please check my album

Impersonation

Here are a few personalities (?) I would like to impersonate for at least a short while.

Himesh Reshamiya:

I want to learn how exactly it feels like to eat, sleep and shit with my nose.

Also, I would like to remove my cap and look at my hair in the mirror for a while, and find out the reason to why I can’t show my hair to others.

I would also like to sleep with women 20 years younger.

Simon Taufel:

I would like to trip Shoaib Akhtar when he bowls, with the hope that he becomes a spin bowler consequently.

Arjun Singh:

I would want to do a few addition sums to see if I get them right. I would also want to shoot myself after that, and write a suicide note saying I killed myself as I was not able to solve 69 - 73.

Jayalalitha:

I would love to pose a challenge to Deccan Chronicle, by having dinner with Adnan Sami, get a photograph with him, and see if the photo fits the first page next day. I would also want to sit on Dayanidhi Maran.

Rahul Dravid:

I would want to tell Dhoni that he looks good only when he’s dirty.

A ball boy in Wimbledon:

I would also like to see more than usual of Sharapova.

Amelie Mauresmo:

I want to have good biceps.

M.F. Hussain:

I want to make a drawing of the Indian Flag with a Nataraj Pencil and sell it for 1 million rupees.

Madonna:

I would want to kiss Britney Spears in public, and do it proudly.

Fabien Barthez:

I would want to know what it feels like to jump up in the air with my legs on the ground.

Udita Goswami:

I would like to go and stand in front of a German shepherd, and check if it mistakes me for an enlarged cat and chases me. Only that if it does, I can’t run.

Kavya Vishwanathan:

I would like to explain clearly to the world that Tamilians are extremely ethical, of which Amma and I (Kavya) are the only exceptions.

Gita says

The Bhagavat Gita says, we all are just entities, plain entities with roles assigned to each one of us to make life move on. More like toys. Happiness and sorrow are not a result of our doings but essentially regularities of life, which exist irrespective of our actions, coming in as a package. Thus, it is always advisable not to ride on a situation of joy, or cry over a happening for too long.

I've been using my dad's laptop for the past 2 months, including at IISc. I got my Dell Laptop from US today. A marvelous piece at very little cost. I had to go to Hyderabad to collect it. Just before I left, I thought of checking mail; put on dad's laptop, checked mail, shut it down. I was about to close it when I heard a rattling noise. Lo! The hinge joint had come off. Apparently, the whole casing has to be changed, it's gonna cost around 10K.

My first day of the fifth semester today. I go to college, find my cycle missing. What's more, I had taken a junior's cycle on the last day of the previous semester, and parked it next to mine. That too is missing. Searched all over the place, for a whole day, can't find it.

I get my brand new Dell laptop, I don't even feel like opening it now.

Get this!

Found this on wimpy's blog. Brilliant!

Twenty years

A post similar to this in structure, different in nature. (Somehow both of us end up writing almost similar stuff, like this and this, which differed by three days).

Peed on grandfather. Protinex. Proposed in kindergarten. Bonnie baby award. Optic fibre inside the body. First flight. Froze in Kodaikanal. Best handwriting in first standard. Sleepless nights in power cuts. Swimming. Pencil sketching. Came to know of IIT. First crush. Football. Loved Kismi bar. Hindi slangs. Clay modeling. First bicycle. Tennis. Always second in class. Mom's accident. Tabla classes. NAFL bus. National market. Trigonometry. First time that. Suspended for a week. First love. Mechanics. NTSE. Hussain Sagar lake. Malathy Narayan. Kiss. I.E. Irodov. Night outs. Organic chemistry-Prahalad Rao. BSR. HBM. AVS. Sensation. INPhO. JEE. IITM. Life. Indian Institute of Science.

Quite a ride really, these twenty years.

Whoa!

I found this remarkably good article on FIFA WC 2006 a couple of days back in the Editorial Column of the Indian Express. It's by Damodaran, SEBI chairman. I assure you, it's a worth read.

Long years ago I had a coaster which stated an eternal truth. It simply said ‘‘Use your head—it is the little things that count’’. Somewhere along the way the coaster disappeared. Did it reach Zidane without an explanatory note?
Come to think of it, the head dominated action on Sad Sunday—sad because in one moment, not of madness but of deliberate design, a deity chose to fall off the high pedestal on which millions had placed him. In the first minute, Henry’s head took a knock. In the twelfth Materazzi’s header showed that Barthez was literally and figuratively out of place at this level. Later came Zidane’s legitimate header with Buffon showing that he was in every sense the tallest among present day goalkeepers. And then the head butt that would have been the envy of a battering ram and floored Materazzi and the rest of us. And throughout all of this Fabio (abbreviated from fabulous?) Cannavero and his men kept their feet on the ground, kept cool heads showed visible hunger and proved worthy winners.

Let us leave emotions aside and consider hard facts. Down very early by a penalty award that was possibly justified but fortuitous and with Zidane’s penalty kick falling for the Italians, on the wrong side of the line after hitting the underside of the crossbar, many sides would have given in to despair. Not this Italian side. They were back on level terms in 10 minutes, then hit the crossbar once, had the ball once again in the net without getting a goal and then after 120 minutes of gut wrenching stuff converted all 5 penalties with nothing iffy about any one of them. In my book, worthy winners on the day.

Let us rewind to the beginning. Brazil came with the conviction, which many reinforced, that the World Cup would be theirs four weeks and sixty four matches later. They, like us, should have heeded the warning of the mutual fund industry that past performance is no guarantee of future returns. The hunger that winners need to have was clearly not in evidence. Argentina was a well conducted orchestra—remember the 24 pass goal—till Pekerman decided that Riquelme the conductor could be replaced. Then symphony went; Cacophony came. Spain was consistent, ever the underperformer. Portugal had their moments and if only Cristiano Ronaldo (easily the better Ronaldo in this tournament) had believed more often that this was a teamgame, Figo could have had a fonder farewell. The African teams showed great skill till the penalty box. Their time will come perhaps in South Africa 2010. The Asian teams clearly didn’t belong here. Clearly the economic gains since 2002 have been offset by the loss in skillsets on the football field.

Shed a tear for the Germans. If they had won, I for one wouldn’t have complained. In a tournament that coaches dominated, Klinsman showed that he could hold his own against the Scolaris and the Lippis, the Pekermans and the Hiddinks, not to mention the eminently forgettable Eriksson.

England deserve a separate paragraph. Their game plan was a perfect recipe for disaster. Gerrard and Lampard, both kings of the midfield, found one kingdom difficult to share. Rooney, all alone, was lost upfront. Crouch clearly was in the wrong league. Theo Walcott was brought as a surprise package and the package remained unopened, contents unknown. Lennon was good when given a chance, but was starved of time. And Beckham (I tried hard to remain his fan) stayed immobile for long so close to the touchline that one thought he had bought the best ringside seat. Erase Eriksson from memory. Give Alan Shearer his coaching badge soon. Only then will the lions roar again.

There were several positives that merit approval. The first was clearly organisation. ‘‘Kaiser Franz Beckenbauer showed first as player then as coach and now as Chief Organiser that when it comes to organisation he is top of the class. Everything went like clockwork and the hosts won several friends. For countries seeking to organise international events, this World Cup was an object lesson.

Next in my book comes the refereeing, and I know this is nowhere near a unanimous view among the cognoscenti. Let me state my case. In 64 matches you can have the odd offdays, one match reduced to a ‘‘card party’’ and a referee giving 3 yellow cards to a player in one match. Australia ‘‘robbed’’ at the end of a well contested match with a penalty that simply was not on, was another huge error. But that said, let us see it from the referee’s point of view. Told that jersey pulling, tackling from the rear, diving et al should be firmly dealt with, referees blew the whistle a little too often in the earlier games. Then came the public admonition from the highest in the game. Don’t be spoilsports. Keep the players in the field and the cards in your pockets, or words nearly to that effect. The players got emboldened, the referees got more challenged and to my mind the latter prevailed. They showed firmness without being disruptive and when push came not to shove but to headbutt, they showed who was in charge. Theirs was a thankless job; no harm is done by thanking them for a job well done.

Penalty kicks merit some comment, not the awarding alone but the taking thereof. Strict refereeing ensures that goalkeepers remain on the line and never in front reducing the angles. That leaves goalkeepers with a very small chance. Guess the direction and the height reasonably correctly and make the first move sideways and nearly always horizontally. Or pray that the ball goes out and does not trouble you. The better penalty takers know that too. Their runups are not long and they often go for the roof knowing that a goalkeeper is almost always diving to one side. That sets the Zidanes and Cristiano Ronaldos apart. A lot of practice and a lot of self belief is involved. Even Eriksson spoke of practicing penalty kicks!

In case some of us thought that footballers were unidimensional, this World Cup taught us to think again. We saw some great diving and some great playacting. And while Figo, Cristiano Ronaldo and Henry gave it their theatrical best, the Oscar was clearly Ballack’s for clutching his face when the contact was at least two feet away.
We also saw some of the greats of this generation bidding goodbye on the big stage. Zidane, Figo, Oliver Kahn, Roberto Carlos, Paul Nedved, the list is long. They gave us great joy while they were around and football will be the poorer for their absence.

Who will be the big names in 2010? Too early for definitive pronouncements but no harm starting the deliberations. A talented Messi, a more mature Rooney, a brilliant Ribery and a proven Podosky should make their mark. Robinho should shine in the absence of the more famous Rs of Brazil. And as teams go, let me stick my neck out four years too early. Watch out for Spain and England.

Finally Zizou adieu. And while we say goodbye, one word of advice. Don’t tell us, for your sake and for our sake, what provoked you to do what you did. Let us continue to guess, as your opponents guessed, often wrongly, the direction of your passes. For if you tell, as your agent says you would, lesser mortals will sit in judgement on your action. Psychologists will deconstruct you, lawyers will maintain that your deliberate intent negates the gravest of provocations. Leave us with the luxury of remembering those great moments when you raised football to the level of poetry and we reciprocated by raising you to Godhead.

Pack its

I'm fed up. I'm removing the comments section, at least temporarily.

As already told a thousand times, I write what I feel like, and will continue to do so. I don't give jackshit of what it means to any of you.

I don't know why, but a couple of comments in my last post made me do this, including

' lol.. cupper.. sit and code da ! '

' ThuuThuu!
Started with Krrish and ended with Floyd.Focus on what u intend to write and don't bring Floyd *everywhere*,nevertheless Floyd is *good*'

' Dude your trademark humour seems to be missing in this post!

I should say this is the worst post of all on your blog!

-Anon '

Whatever, I don't want to see comments for a while. And I'll continue writing what I want to, and not what YOU want me to.

UPDATE : I'm bringing it back on, thanks to a few good words from Priya. It feels stupid now. Anyway, please don't stop giving out negative comments. As I told Priya, I don't mind if you say "You suck" or "You're a tasteless pimp". In fact, when Vatsa ripped a few of my posts to pieces, I didn't mind. However, please don't comment asking me to "focus" on what I write or asking me where my "Trademark" humor disappeared. Thanks.

Damn.

After I got a bit bored after a stretch of Matlab programming, I decided to take a break; opened winamp, and thought of listening to some hindi track for a change. I scrolled down the list, and picked a song Pyaar ki kahani from Krrish, a recent movie starring Hrithik Roshan.

I double clicked it, closed my laptop, stretched myself in a relaxed pose, closed my eyes.
And I realized how stupid anyone can get.

The song starts with the line 'Aao sunaoon pyaar ki ek kahani' from Hrithik.(For those who don't know hindi, it means 'Come on, let me tell you a story'). Then there's blah blah blah, which is nice to hear, good music. But for a change, as I was really bored, instead of the listening to the music, I wanted to listen to the story that Hrithik so much promised me and Priyanka Chopra. The story was idiotic by itself, comprising not more than 3-4 lines, which if you want to summarize, goes like this : Once upon a time, there was a guy, there was a girl too. Both saw each other, laughed for a while, made out, and then made love. (Please excuse me if the story is a bit contorted)

The amazing part was this: After singing all this crap, he goes back to the same line 'Aao sunaoon pyaar ki ek kahani'. Goddammit, you've already told the story man! Do these guys not have sense or what? On hearing this, I actually went back a bit to recheck if I had missed the word wapas, hoping he said 'Aao Wapas sunaoon pyaar ki ek kahani'. But No! Wait wait! Thats not it! You have Priyanka Chopra next, singing 'Aao sunaoon pyaar ki ek kahani', with the same story(or song) to Hrithik!

I just couldn't tolerate this, and Shift deleted the song. Oh god, don't punish me for being harsh to the song!

Soaps: Applications in life

Tell me one of the most happening, sought after, knowledgeable, valuable experiences in the current Indian society, which is witness to mankind's creativity and powers of imagination.
Yes, yes, you're right! Soaps!

Let me give some tips to the common man as to how you can apply 'soap' situations in your real life.

What a piece of creation, I must say. As informative as a life encyclopedia, but not as boring.

Serials help the common man a lot. Switch on a Tamil or a Kannada serial, and you'll exactly know which distemper and paint not to buy for your house. If you want to learn the Veena, please don't join any class, just put on a serial, blindfold yourself, catch your crotch, and listen intently. And become a maestro.

Put on a Hindi serial, and you'll learn important tricks to seduce your partner, like sleeping with lipstick on, and a silk saree that could cover up an elephant. Only that I must warn you, you might suffocate to death. And you cannot come back alive (Note the difference).

You also learn important social principles and behaviors, like the fact that whenever you see a couple about to kiss, hold your breath for while, let them get millimeters close, and when they're about to kiss, let out a shout, so that lips don't meet. Remember, if lips meet, sun disappears. Also remember, if you don't shout, someone else will. So, shout and get yourself heard.

Take inspiration from a serial, and realize that your day should start with you reading the newspaper and drinking tea. Remember, if you feel like taking a leak, remove the feeling. Also, you should live in a house with a garden. If you don't, you'll be buried alive. Next, you should have guests visiting your house everyday. If they don't, you should visit them. Remember, if neither of these happen, sun disappears.

Next, when you travel to your office by an Auto, don't worry about time, there's always a soul mate auto for you, which comes in the second you reach the road, and drops you in five minutes wherever you want to go, provided you catch your soul mate auto. Note this important point: When you get down, pay the auto fellow only in notes. Not in coins. And at no cost should you take back any change. Remember, if either of these happen the opposite way, you disappear.

Next, when you speak to someone on the phone, you should never ask who the person on that side is. You should complete your entire made up speech, and then confirm if you said it to the right person. Remember, it's invariably the wrong person. But don't worry, he'll call you up and do the same mistake, so you both are even.

You should remember your manners; whenever someone comes home, greet them, and immediately ask them if they want anything hot or cold. Here I must warn you, they might say yes. But then, you can punish them for their lack of manners by giving them Horlicks.

Next, when you walk on a road and a pretty girl walks toward you, when you pass by, make sure you hit her, so that she drops something and you both can stare at each other for 15 seconds, before the sound of vultures above you makes you move. But make sure you don't take your lips close, as someone is always waiting to let out a shout, and you might piss getting scared. The entire purpose is ruined then. Also, remember, if you don't hit her, you evaporate.

Now, when you think of calling up a girl, never do it. Because, the same second you call, she's dialing your number. So, here's the trick: Pick up the phone, act as if you're dialing a number but don't. The supernatural forces don't know this, and she dials your number and you get to speak to her. Though I must warn you, she might also be acting, hence, wait for a while, and dial. But then, she dials too. Don't worry. You cannot speak on the phone. Yes, I wasted your time.

If you ask me, 'Which do you prefer, watching Indian serials, or listening to a bald Taiwan man reciting nursery rhymes on an ocean floor?', I would prefer the latter.

Dream a dream

Why this topic? Because I'm almost doing that right now. It's 5:30 in the evening, and a whole day has passed without any progress whatsoever. I'm so damn tired, and feel like sleeping and having a nice dream to cheer me up. I don't know if any of you pray for good dreams, but I do. I somehow enjoy good dreams, and it's all a feel good thing in the morning after you've had a nice refreshing dream. And I've somehow had so many experiences and twists with dreams that I thought it was time I jotted them down.

I almost never dream in class, and I cannot reason that out. Probably the constant encounter of some arbit frequency, arbit amplitude jargonistic noise with the delicate eardrums evaporates any of the dreams that have taken birth. In about one in ten dreams, I get to remember the birth of the dream, ie - how and where it started. (And invariably it starts in a class, ironically)

A prominent feature of my dreams is the blending of totally unrelated stuff, in a related environment or an activity. I've told a few of them to my friends, which made them go ROTFL. One was when I'd seen a fashion show the previous day on paapi's comp, about a week after Saarang, and I dreamt that one of my classmates (girl) had dressed up in a bikini, drumming for the Led Zepplica Band in our OAT. If you thought this was funny, you ought to hear the dream when one of my profs came to my grandfather asking for a sex change operation, and my grandfather sent him back saying he was too young.

Many a times, I've had serious dreams, sometimes scary, near death. During the JEE days, there was so much studying that dreams would predominantly consist of problems. It used to reach extremes when I would resolve a few Irodov problems in my dream. My mom used to have a tough time understanding all this when my reaction to her trying to wake me up would be a 'Don't disturb me, I'll get up slowly from one axis' or 'Wait. I'll approximate and get up'.
Well, my mom is clever you see. She would have her sweet revenge by confusing me asking questions like 'Are you going to college with Karthik, or with Siva?'. I would get terribly confused, wondering if I was Karthik or someone else. I would get up furiously, and all my mom would do was laugh. In fact, I remember the day when Siva told me this: While his mom was waking him up that day, he refused to get up till she answered his question. His question being 'In how many ways can I get up?'. Just a bit of combinatorics running in his mind.
Well, those were those.(Whatever that meant)

There were dreams that I still think are due to the influence of extra-terrestrial beings. What else could explain this: One monday, I dreamt that I shot a guy with a pistol. Tuesday, I killed another guy pushing him from a terrace. Wednesday, I stabbed a guy, Thursday, I pushed a guy into a railway track killing him. Friday, I didn't sleep thinking of this, but somehow pinched a guy killing him. And please, I've never killed a guy!

Some have been scary, like a car hitting me, or being pushed down a building(It's my turn now).
If you get hit by a car in your dream, and you don't get up, you're a saintly moron. Now, I also plan to do research on this, that body conditions are crucially responsible for any dream that you give birth to. For, getting hit by a car makes me get up, take a leak, come back, and dream that I'm with Jennifer Lopez.

The weirdest experience I've had in dreams is the time when I dreamt(?) that I was doing that, that being the holy task of growing up, which gives emotional, psychological, physiological and mental satisfaction; and my mom comes into the room. Now, till date, till this minute, I don't know if that was only in my dreams, or I actually did that.

Aah, I'm feeling too sleepy. Better go and have a nice dream.

142236245

He knew what he wanted.

A weird feeling passed through his head, and he sat still. Staring at the mirror, he wondered; what was making him so uncomfortable?He started to recollect the day’s incidents, trying to remember the one thing that was making him restless. He didn’t want to talk. He hadn’t had lunch, and it was 8 at night; hunger didn’t seem to get close. He couldn’t read. All he could do was to stare at the mirror.

There often used to be such times when he would suddenly realize the uneasiness he was facing, and would start looking for a reason.Sometimes he would get one, sometimes not. The latter would invariably lead to hours of frustration; the former would be no less. He remembered the common saying ‘Works of fiction often have a real life impact or an implication’. He could almost feel a dementor. Reading about it, or watching it, was fun; Real life? No!

‘Where’s my life headed to?’, he wondered. He would keep thinking of the past, and how his life was. How he spent those days, how others were so much fun, how it was all so fine, how he was never in a situation that lead to questioning himself, how he never felt like what he was feeling now.

Another dreaded feeling passed through his head: He was beginning to lose the sense of humor he had. He couldn’t appreciate the jokes made by others. In fact, it seemed all too silly, and he wished he could spank them.

Suddenly, everything seemed different. He was looked at differently by people. The others seemed to draw a line between them and him. A look or glance towards him seemed to be filled with respect. He began to act differently. He’d realized this; that didn’t do any good either. He had to live this way. He wanted to get back to his own self. He hated this. There was nobody to blame but him. He’d chosen to do this.

It was strange the way life moved on, making new friends, changing priorities, new ambitions and a fresh outlook to life, a newly evolved being. And there was no going back.

He smiled at himself.

He knew what he wanted.

Here comes!

Presenting to you, The God of Mech, IITM, the man, the stud.
The evil muggoo. With a title of 'Veni, vidi, vetti' which made me go ROTFL, this promises to be fun.

'f u undrsntd dis tis gud

In today's world, what privilege do girls enjoy that boys don't?
No, not getting full marks even after writing A implies B, so B implies A.
But getting messages and orkut scraps which read
'hi. h r u u i wan frenz u. pl riply '. Just wish I had this privilege, so that I could reply 'I want to, but I cannot possibly frenz you'. I mean, there was this girl in yahoo, who would always, every single time start the conversation with 'hi. h r u?' In what way does it make her job easier, I do not understand. For all she knows, someone might as well interpret it as 'Haraami, are you?' And tell her foff hoping she understood what that meant. I do not intend to hurt, or mock at anyone who doesn't know, or it not proficient in English. It's about those who can write perfectly, still resort to 'k.ta. thnkq', instead of a word more 'Ok, thanks.Tata'. In a mobile (read sms) it's at least understandable, especially for people like me, whose thumb much to the irritation covers 4 keys, and a 'this' becomes a 'tits'. It adds to the comfort using a 'u' instead of a 'you'. But using fyne for fine, that too on a comp, as my friend D does, is surely a different case.

The one other thing that pisses me off in this is the convenient use and insertion of numbers. hi. 4m wer r u. gr8 to meet u . Why the hell do you want numbers to communicate or get a point across, when you have a zillion words? (Of course there are exceptions where numbers describe a situation very efficiently, like 'Hey, how was it yesterday?' can get a reply 'Was a 69').
I just don't get the rationale, if there's any. If people do it just for the pseud value, and feel that doing so makes them look cool, they're statistically stupid. (Yeah, I've done too much of stats last sem, I needed to use it somewhere). Of course, people change only when they have a self realization. Not that all this is wrong, it's just that I'm personally irritated, and blogger's been very nice to listen to me.

And yeah, if you're chronically affected by this, you'll probably end up typing a disastrous statement like 'b4 u cum here, i ll cum there', which can make/break relationships forever.