Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Every 4 years, my world changes!
There is something about the Football World Cup. The fact that it comes once every 4 years adds to the charm. Well, so does the Cricket World Cup, many would say! Guess, the advent of T20 and hence a T20 World Cup once every 2 years besides the Champions Trophy where all the big teams battle it out again has taken away some charm out of the quadrennial tournament. Euro is not quite the World Cup and I rarely follow Club matches. And all this makes the FIFA World Cup all the more interesting for me. As every 4 years, I reflect on how my life has changed from the last one. And when you do that, you are pleasantly surprised at the magnitude of changes, of new people who have become a part of your journey, of new responsibilities, of how you have changed as a person. No one can judge the transition better than you as you are the constant. Your world changes every 4 years. And no better milestone to look back at your own life than this quadrennial showpiece!
Mine has been one spanning across the nooks and corners of the country. Every 4 years, I have found myself in a new city, a new state.
Being an 83 born guy, I can say that I started seriously watching it from the 1994 World Cup. Appa being a big sports buff and having played Football at the professional level did fuel my interest. I distinctly remember the Roberto Baggio penalty miss at the 94 World Cup. That memory has stayed with me over the last 2 decades. If I were to summarize my world then, it would read something like the below
1994 World Cup for me - Nazira, Assam - 11 year old - Settling into KV ecosystem from Apeejay days in Mumbai - Appa and me - Roberto Baggio miss - ONGC colony by the river bed - Cycling to school with my sister - Attending lot of official Malayalee Samajam get togethers in Officers Club - Visiting family friends at their homes and staying back for dinner - Expecting family friends at home and playing with their kids till Amma hollers for dinner - Playing Cricket matches with rival groups - Loads of fun
Life moved on. Fast forward by 4 years. We moved to Bharuch, Gujarat from Assam as Appa got transferred. 1998 World Cup was immediately after the 10th Boards got over. I remember being mighty relieved at the thought of watching the games without the baggage of Board exams. Had a cousin staying with us, so it was Appa, me and him grouping up for the matches. In hindsight, this was 3 years before the two most turbulent years Gujarat would witness.
1998 World Cup for me - Bharuch, Gujarat - 15 year old - Shifted to Gujarat Board from Central Board - Appa, me and my cousin, Sreeji - Zidane magic - staying in our own home in Bharuch - mini Kerala of sorts with the entire neighbourhood from the state - Sad on moving into the more serious end of school days, the Science stream for 12th Boards
Fast forward by 4 years. Moved out of home for the first time to pursue Engineering. Well, hello Hostel life! Came back home for vacations in time for the World Cup. Saw a different Gujarat this time around. All charred up. Desperately trying to get back on its knees again. If the Earthquake the previous year was not enough. Never seen so much police on the roads in my life. Never travelled in a train with no more than a bunch of people in the compartment. To be told that the shop from where you bought clothes last year has been razed down by a mob. That feeling. Eerie! That memory completely overshadowed the Cup memories.
2002 World Cup for me - Ichalkaranji, Maharashtra - 19 year old - Trying to make sense of the circuits - Staying on my own and managing with the pocket money that Appa would send in every month - Standing in a long queue for the cashier to hand over cash - Waiting downstairs close to the landline phone at the hostel anticipating a call from home - Fellow batchmates cum hostelites who became family - Memories of a charred and bruised city - Lot of negative vibes and enemity amongst communities all around the city - Holing up at home during vacations all the time without going out - That Ronaldinho free kick versus England!
Fast forward by 4 years. Finally decided that Engineering was not what interested me. Marketing/Advertising did. Took a shot at management. CAT followed. Ended up in Delhi. Life without Television. Followed much of the proceedings online. Not quite as exciting as the previous editions. Assignments and Tests took most of the time. And Italy won!
2006 World Cup for me - New Delhi - 23 year old - Buried under a heap of assignments, assessments, projects and internals - Life without the idiot box - catching a couple of matches here and there - Ragging juniors - Interviewing juniors for Student Clubs - Bracing up for final placements later in the year - Uncertain where life would take me - Zidane headbutt!
Time flew. Started working. First job with Idea. What an Idea, Sirji days followed. Bombay happened again as I got my final posting at the Corporate office. Celebrated my 25th B'day. Discovered my love for Digital and got lucky to get that profile. A boss who was more of a friend. Fabulous years at work followed. Memorable campaigns followed as well. Moved up the ladder. Wonderful time with lot of friends around. Memorable World Cup.
2010 World Cup for me - Ghatkopar, Mumbai - 27 year old - What an Idea - Mahindra Park - Friends - Digital Marketing - Sitting blank by the sea with Naishy & Tapo - Watching movies in theatre every weekend - Salary hitting the bank a/c every month - Chinese food every alternate day - Germany dazzling at the start to fizzle out later - Spain and Villa!
2014! Four years from the time Spain lifted the trophy, I find myself in a new city. Bangalore. Working for a new company. The King of Good Times. A lot has happened in these 4 years. So many memories already. Getting a car for family in Kerala. Getting a bloody big screen LCD for dad to watch matches like a king. Marrying my best friend. Making holiday plans with her. Paying EMI's for our first home togehter. Having an awesome extended family in her family. Building up to sisters marriage. Pulling her leg in the days leading to the same. Discussing investments with Appa. Suggesting medical alternatives to Amma. Acting like a 31 year old should. My family and wife would beg to differ on that perhaps. Am yet to attain maturity, they complain!
My world changes every 4 years. And World Cup is a time when I sit back and reflect on all things gone by. And that's where the charm of this quadrennial event lies. It makes you go back in time and that is a wonderful feeling. May the best team win!
Friday, June 15, 2012
Wish I could...
I saw a tear trickle down her eyes. Within seconds her cheeks were moist. This was the first time I had seen her burst out. In that one moment, she had turned from a supremely confident girl to someone who needed a shoulder and whose eyes were pleading for help. We had sat by the sea a number of times, but today was different. There was a calmness about this place, despite the mind numbing traffic and the bustling street noise in the background. Nothing else mattered more for me than to pacify her. She was too precious for me to let her break like that.
The sea was perfectly calm today, despite the heavy rains that had lashed the city in the morning. It was the perfect place to catch up and unwind. But the sea also triggers a lot of emotions in you and tends to bring out the weak side, even if it's just for a moment. You can't help but succumb to that moment.
She looked into my eyes. Her eyes glistened with tears. The kohl in her eyes her spread, but she didn't care much. 'Am I making a mistake'?, her eyes looked deep into mine as if seeking reassuarance. I tried to look in the opposite direction. I was not sure if I could answer this. How could I? Wasn't I the funny guy? The guy who can make you drop dead with all those sad jokes. This required me to be me. I was unsure if I should let go of an image that I have so desperately clinged on to. She would not let me get off the hook easily. She kept blurting out all that had gathered within her in the past many months, 'I am unable to take it any longer. I am crumbling under the pressure. Never before have I felt so unsure. Why is it that I can't seem to decide what's right for me, or to be more specific if he is the right one for me? Why is it that I can't choose? Why is it that I am the only one who is willing to sacrifice and not him? Am I the only out who is required to act mature while he takes it easy? Have I made the wrong choice for myself by choosing to marry him''?
This time her gaze was more strong for me to pull away. Her eyes pleaded for solace. She wanted someone to help her out. I couldn't take it any longer. Her tears were more important to me than my self constructed image of a carefree guy. I held her tight and tried comforting her. This was not the usual chirpy, bubbly, vivacious lil girl I was used to seeing.
I started mumbling, 'Circumstances often leaves you at crossroads. You never know that the path you have taken is right until you reach your destination. I am not talking of the immediate destination which the path you have chosen will show you. I am talking of the one that awaits of at the end of this journey called life. Whichever path you pursue, if you think that it will close all other paths for you and leave you cursing your decision for a lifetime, then you are mistaken my dear. Life doesn't end with the choices we make. Rather new branches sprout out from the choice you made. And this will still take you to that final destination that you have always dreamed of. A sapling looks up towards the sky, yearns for it and it is that yearning that makes it reach for it. Even when it grows into a tree, it continues reaching out for the sky. The branches are a testimony to its efforts to reach out, embrace the sky and become a part of it. At no point does it stop accepting the fact that she is reaching out for the impossible. It is her never ending love which ignites her belief'.
She looked at me, all wonder eyed, wiping out her tears but her eyes still filled with questions. She was looking at answers which would comfort her, which would make her feel better and help her take the final plunge. Her eyes said it all. And who else could read her eyes, but me.
I looked away from her, fixing my stare towards the deep end of the sea. I continued, 'I know what you are dying to ask. You want to know if the tree is a fool in blindly loving the sky and reaching out for it? Is being sacrificial a sign of stupidity? Is the tree right in choosing the sky for her and then expect the sky to understand her feelings all her life, without showing a semblance of love in return? Of course she is right! All her life, the tree continues to believe that her efforts to reach out go unacknowledged. She has her reasons to believe so. But what she overlooks is the fact that the sky acknowledges her love by showering her with rain. It does so by helping her to sprout from a seed, nurturing the sapling with enough water and aiding her growth as the sky too wants to embrace the tree. It lives in the belief that one day with all the nurturing, the tree would grow tall enough to be able to reach out and touch him. It is circumstances that don't allow it to shower rain on the tree for 365 days. And it's these circumstances that help stop the sky from killing the tree with excessive love hence. Does it make his love for her any less? Despite the tree feeling that the sky is not being considerate or reciprocating her feelings, does she understand how much the sky yearns for her and tries his very best for their union'?
I gathered all my courage and looked at her. She was beaming and all smiles. All the clouds of doubt that had gathered in her mind had been blown away. She gave me a tight hug, 'What would I do without my best friend? You are my personal brand of philosophy. I love you! You have no clue of the effect your words have on my soul. If it weren't for you, I had decided to return him the engagement ring over dinner tonight. Thank you daa!' She got up and left for the scheduled dinner with her fiance, while I excused myself under the pretext of some work.
I continued to sit by the sea long after she was gone. Had I done the right thing with my senseless blabbering? Did I make any sense in trying to make a fictional connect between a tree and a sky? Had I ruined everything for me, without wanting to for the lack of courage to confess my feelings for her? I continued sitting there, till I was the last one left. It was a full moon night and the sea was washed in a white glow today. I continued staring into the oblivion. I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks. Probably that was my fate. Similar to the fate of the earth. The earth, which embraces the seed with all its love and warmth, loving it more all the time. The earth, which stays grounded itself and keeps the sapling grounded, protecting it from the fierce winds and other forces of nature. The earth, which loves the tree unabashedly and is a mute spectator to the tree's ambition to grow in the opposite direction to reach out for the sky. The earth, which still doesn't let go off her and continues to guard and support her all it's life. The earth, which retains the water and nurtures the tree, helping it grow when the sky refuse to open up. Why then, does the earth have to confess his feelings to the tree? Why can't the tree understand on it's own? Isn't it the earth that has to go through the sorrow and becomes the final resting place of the tree, when after years of loving and reaching out for the sky the tree finally falls. Is it destiny?
Wish I could tell her how much I love her. Wish she could understand and read my eyes as I could do hers! Wish I could......but I can't! And I won't..........
I started mumbling, 'Circumstances often leaves you at crossroads. You never know that the path you have taken is right until you reach your destination. I am not talking of the immediate destination which the path you have chosen will show you. I am talking of the one that awaits of at the end of this journey called life. Whichever path you pursue, if you think that it will close all other paths for you and leave you cursing your decision for a lifetime, then you are mistaken my dear. Life doesn't end with the choices we make. Rather new branches sprout out from the choice you made. And this will still take you to that final destination that you have always dreamed of. A sapling looks up towards the sky, yearns for it and it is that yearning that makes it reach for it. Even when it grows into a tree, it continues reaching out for the sky. The branches are a testimony to its efforts to reach out, embrace the sky and become a part of it. At no point does it stop accepting the fact that she is reaching out for the impossible. It is her never ending love which ignites her belief'.
She looked at me, all wonder eyed, wiping out her tears but her eyes still filled with questions. She was looking at answers which would comfort her, which would make her feel better and help her take the final plunge. Her eyes said it all. And who else could read her eyes, but me.
I looked away from her, fixing my stare towards the deep end of the sea. I continued, 'I know what you are dying to ask. You want to know if the tree is a fool in blindly loving the sky and reaching out for it? Is being sacrificial a sign of stupidity? Is the tree right in choosing the sky for her and then expect the sky to understand her feelings all her life, without showing a semblance of love in return? Of course she is right! All her life, the tree continues to believe that her efforts to reach out go unacknowledged. She has her reasons to believe so. But what she overlooks is the fact that the sky acknowledges her love by showering her with rain. It does so by helping her to sprout from a seed, nurturing the sapling with enough water and aiding her growth as the sky too wants to embrace the tree. It lives in the belief that one day with all the nurturing, the tree would grow tall enough to be able to reach out and touch him. It is circumstances that don't allow it to shower rain on the tree for 365 days. And it's these circumstances that help stop the sky from killing the tree with excessive love hence. Does it make his love for her any less? Despite the tree feeling that the sky is not being considerate or reciprocating her feelings, does she understand how much the sky yearns for her and tries his very best for their union'?
I gathered all my courage and looked at her. She was beaming and all smiles. All the clouds of doubt that had gathered in her mind had been blown away. She gave me a tight hug, 'What would I do without my best friend? You are my personal brand of philosophy. I love you! You have no clue of the effect your words have on my soul. If it weren't for you, I had decided to return him the engagement ring over dinner tonight. Thank you daa!' She got up and left for the scheduled dinner with her fiance, while I excused myself under the pretext of some work.
I continued to sit by the sea long after she was gone. Had I done the right thing with my senseless blabbering? Did I make any sense in trying to make a fictional connect between a tree and a sky? Had I ruined everything for me, without wanting to for the lack of courage to confess my feelings for her? I continued sitting there, till I was the last one left. It was a full moon night and the sea was washed in a white glow today. I continued staring into the oblivion. I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks. Probably that was my fate. Similar to the fate of the earth. The earth, which embraces the seed with all its love and warmth, loving it more all the time. The earth, which stays grounded itself and keeps the sapling grounded, protecting it from the fierce winds and other forces of nature. The earth, which loves the tree unabashedly and is a mute spectator to the tree's ambition to grow in the opposite direction to reach out for the sky. The earth, which still doesn't let go off her and continues to guard and support her all it's life. The earth, which retains the water and nurtures the tree, helping it grow when the sky refuse to open up. Why then, does the earth have to confess his feelings to the tree? Why can't the tree understand on it's own? Isn't it the earth that has to go through the sorrow and becomes the final resting place of the tree, when after years of loving and reaching out for the sky the tree finally falls. Is it destiny?
Wish I could tell her how much I love her. Wish she could understand and read my eyes as I could do hers! Wish I could......but I can't! And I won't..........
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
The Moment - Short Film
Sharing the teasers of 'The Moment', a short film that I am working on these days. Hope you like it. Let me know your views!
Teaser-1
Teaser-2
Teaser-1
Teaser-2
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
We Miss You, Brother!
Was it not yesterday we went out for dinner together? Then why is it that today I don't see you around?
Was it not yesterday that we bashed each other in the game? Then why is it that today there is no one to pick up the other controller?
Was it not yesterday that we had planned to zip around Mumbai exploring new places in your car? Then why is it that today you car lies in the parking without it's owner?
Was it not yesterday that we pulled your leg about all the gals whom you hit on? Then why is it that today I can't make myself heard?
Was it not yesterday that I clicked your snaps and promised to share it this time for sure? Then why is it that today I can't find you to collect them?
Was it not yesterday that we had planned to catch up on all the movies this weekend? Then why is it that today I dread at the thought of going to the theatre?
Was it not yesterday that we had planned to have a ball at the wedding of our common friend? Then why is it that today I cringe at the thought of celebrations without you?
Was it not yesterday that we were spreading news about the insane dowry prospective bride's fathers were luring you with? Then why is it that today I have no one to take offense of it?
Was it not yesterday you were right here, with all of us? Then why is it that today you are with the angels and one among them?
The memories of all the yesterday's with you. Memories of you are all that I have today! Will miss you today, tomorrow and forever!
I lost a dear friend of mine, Naresh Kodithala, on the fateful morning of April 24th. He was only 26 and his death could have been easily averted if some bloody environmentalists had not got the railing at Tiger Leap Point (Lonavala) removed. A slip to death was not what he deserved. It's not what any youngster deserves. And as we speak, the spot waits for it's next victim. A die hard fan of Sachin Tendulkar, the 'King' as he was known in his friends circle departed for his heavenly abode on God's birthday! We continue to miss him each moment!
Was it not yesterday that we bashed each other in the game? Then why is it that today there is no one to pick up the other controller?
Was it not yesterday that we had planned to zip around Mumbai exploring new places in your car? Then why is it that today you car lies in the parking without it's owner?
Was it not yesterday that we pulled your leg about all the gals whom you hit on? Then why is it that today I can't make myself heard?
Was it not yesterday that I clicked your snaps and promised to share it this time for sure? Then why is it that today I can't find you to collect them?
Was it not yesterday that we had planned to catch up on all the movies this weekend? Then why is it that today I dread at the thought of going to the theatre?
Was it not yesterday that we had planned to have a ball at the wedding of our common friend? Then why is it that today I cringe at the thought of celebrations without you?
Was it not yesterday that we were spreading news about the insane dowry prospective bride's fathers were luring you with? Then why is it that today I have no one to take offense of it?
Was it not yesterday you were right here, with all of us? Then why is it that today you are with the angels and one among them?
The memories of all the yesterday's with you. Memories of you are all that I have today! Will miss you today, tomorrow and forever!
I lost a dear friend of mine, Naresh Kodithala, on the fateful morning of April 24th. He was only 26 and his death could have been easily averted if some bloody environmentalists had not got the railing at Tiger Leap Point (Lonavala) removed. A slip to death was not what he deserved. It's not what any youngster deserves. And as we speak, the spot waits for it's next victim. A die hard fan of Sachin Tendulkar, the 'King' as he was known in his friends circle departed for his heavenly abode on God's birthday! We continue to miss him each moment!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The Eyes of God
It had been ages since I had last opened the big trunk, a dumpyard of all my college memories. Infact, I had almost forgotten about it's existence had it not been Amma's persistence to search for an old college magazine that had me on the cover page.
"I need documented proof. Only that would suffice. I don't want an iota of doubt in anyone's mind whether I was saying the truth or not. I know Vimala thinks that I was simply bragging like the other ladies do. I want to see the look on her face when she finds out that my son was an achiever in college days", Amma kept mumbling while going about with her household chores and here I was, dusting off the layers of dust that had accumulated on the surface of this trunk over the years, in my quest for the elusive magazine. Mothers have this strange habit of pitting their children against others in social gatherings and outweigh the competition, if any, by piling up their child's achievements. And if you have just happened to move to a new city, where Amma's new friends had no background of her illustrious kid, then it becomes all the more important for her to set the perspective right from the start. Amma had done the same while catching up with her new gang in this city and had left no stone unturned in glorifying my college achievements. She had promised her friends that next time around, she will get the college magazine with my mention for everyone to see. And the venue for the next party was our house, scheduled for today. While I was irriated with this futile exercise, on the other hand I was happy to see Amma make friends really quick in the new city and it was nice to see her finally smile after a long time.
"Atchoooooooo", I sneezed out loud. There was a thick layer of dust on the trunk, giving it a brownish hue with no traces of the orignal black colour that it was supposed to be. It had been 5 years since I had completed my MBA. The last time I had opened this trunk was back then, to empty my entire cupboard into this big trunk and bid my final adieu to Delhi. Infact, this trunk was a dumpyard of all the memories that I had accumulated over those 2 years. The good memories, the bad ones and then the ones I could never categorize - the memories that Swati gifted me and had her in them. I opened the trunk with a heavy heart and the first thing that I saw was her photograph. Her eyes seemed to be looking straight into mine, piercing my soul, as if asking a thousand questions at the same time. I suddenly went weak in my knees, felt my heart growing heavy and sat down, staring hard at the photograph. It was not that I had not expected to find her along with other stuff I had dumped in the trunk, but I was amazed at the sheer effect it had on me 5 years down the line. It turned out to be the first thing I came across. Swati Desai had left me awestruck, yet again!
"Is this seat occupied?", a blunt female voice greeted my ears as I was shuffling through the pages of the lastest issue of X-Men inside the college library. "Yes! Please", I replied without looking up at the owner of the voice. She was not done yet and continued, "Is that a comic book? You have time to read one? In the middle of this mayhem called the School of Management? You in first year as well, right?", a barrage of questions followed as soon as she had settled down. I slammed the book shut and looked at her irritatedly. I wanted to give her a piece of my mind for breaking my pace. Our eyes met before I could utter a single word. I went blank and the last remnants of thoughts in my mind also evaporated. Swati Desai's hazel eyes had me imprisoned the very first time itself! Looking straight into mine, piercing my soul. As if asking a thousand questions at the same time. Those pair of eyes. The most beautiful pair I had ever come across.
A cockroach flying out of the trunk managed to land on me, breaking my thoughts and transporting me back to present from the past. I shrugged it off and went back to the contents of the trunk. I avoided the photograph, placing it towards my side and digged into the other contents of the trunk. Amma's guests would drop in any moment and I had no time to wander in the fantasy world of memories. The ghosts of the past had been excorsised and I would be ruining it all by revisiting a past that we had mutually buried.
It was Swati's decision to move on. After spending the most beautiful two years of our lives together and despite being madly in love with each other, it took her only a phone call to break all ties with me. When we were just about to begin our careers and were enjoying our last big vacations at home, Swati was busy drifting away from me and all of us at the School of Management. Despite my desperate attempts to get in touch with her, I could not. I feared her staunchly traditional family had found out about our relationship and were forcing her to break ties. She dispelled my doubts over the phone call and stated that it was her decision and that her family had nothing to do with it. The phone call shattered me for life, and I still have not come to terms with that. My anger had not yet simmered down despite all these years. I had been gathering myself over the past many years, but today it all came crashing down. No one ever knew the cause of her strange behaviour, and the fact that she did the same with all her friends was the only solace. A comforting thought that I was not the only one. Disconnecting herself from all social networking sites was another example of her steel like resolve to drift away from everything that would remind her of the past. Swati Desai became a distant memory for everyone and over time she faded from everyone's mind.
"Vivekkkkkk", Amma's voice echoed upstairs, "Come down. Look who all is here to meet you". "Damn", I cursed myself. If the magazine was not enough, now this torture of smiling throughout the glorious introduction Amma would bestow me with loomed overhead. "Vivek!", Amma was calling for me again at the top of her voice, "Come fast beta. Aunties are waiting for you". I washed my face and quickly changed into a Kurta before rushing downstairs. I entered the hall and greeted everyone present there. "Aaaahhhh...Here he is. The shy boy. My son Vivek", Amma started humbly, "He is the reason I am here in Bhopal. He got transferred from Mumbai and has been posted here now. Now what else will a widow do than follow her single son around in this old age. Companies like to pack off good guys to different locations frequently. And his credentials haven't helped him much in getting away from the limelight. Vivek was a brilliant child throughout. He was even a gold medallist at the School of Management". All of a sudden, an 8 year old girl who had accompanied her mother to this party got excited and nudged her mom, "Wow. School of Management. That's where Swati Didi went too, didn't she Maa?"
The name sent shivers down my spine. "Swati?", I choked, "Swati Desai? You know her? Is she in Bhopal? Is she married?", I couldn't control myself. Amma looked amused at this sudden acquaintance and turn of events. The kid hung her face and looked towards her Mom. "Yes Beta. Swati Desai. Daughter of Mr. Santosh & Kamala Desai, our family friends. They used to be our closest friends and were here in Bhopal till 5 years back. We have seen the family in their happy times, their proudest moment being when Swati got through the School of Management, and their extremely worse times when Swati was diagnosed with that life threatening disease. They got to know of it pretty late and there was little that doctors could do to save that angel of a girl. The final 6 months were really tough for the entire family. The chemotherapies had sapped out everything from Swati and she had isolated herself from everything and everyone. Imagine the plight of her parents to watch their young daughter die before their very eyes. Talking about eyes, my daughter Krishna here was blinded by an accident when she was still an infant and needed a matching donor to see the world again. Swati was very close to Krishna and was adamant that her eyes be donated after her death, since it was a perfect match to Krishna's. Swati had the most beautiful eyes and in her final moments, even though her face had gone frail and her hair bald, it were her eyes that was full of life. I still can't beleive Swati is not with us today. But she lives on and her eyes still see the world through my daughter Krishna. Her parents come once in a year to see Krishna and find solace by looking into her eyes. We owe everything to Swati for the gift she has left behind for Krishna".
I had gone pale. I walked towards Krishna in a state of trance, knelt down holding her, wiping off the stream of tears that were running continuously down my cheeks. The next moment, our eyes met yet again. Those hazel eyes, looking straight into mine and piercing my soul. As if asking a thousand questions at the same time. Swati Desai had left me awestruck, yet again!
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Dawn of a decade!
From School to College life,
From the confines of my home to the four walls of an Engg hostel,
From family to batch-mates who became family
From 'Ghar ka khaana' to 'Hostel Mess Experiments',
From reading about them getting ragged to being ragged,
From being the king of my room to sharing my hostel room,
From clean toilets to stinky hostel ones,
From a sleepy town to the Capital,
From releasing pressure to being in pressure,
From mismanagement to time management,From watching advertising campaigns to creating and executing one,
From consuming brands to working on brand,
From a shy, stammering school boy to a confident corporate guy,
From winning awards for writing to winning big ones for my work,
Last 2 days of a decade full of wonderful journeys.
Raising a toast to the best decade of my life, 2000-2010!
Happy New Year :-)
From the confines of my home to the four walls of an Engg hostel,
From family to batch-mates who became family
From 'Ghar ka khaana' to 'Hostel Mess Experiments',
From reading about them getting ragged to being ragged,
From being the king of my room to sharing my hostel room,
From clean toilets to stinky hostel ones,
From a sleepy town to the Capital,
From releasing pressure to being in pressure,
From mismanagement to time management,From watching advertising campaigns to creating and executing one,
From consuming brands to working on brand,
From a shy, stammering school boy to a confident corporate guy,
From winning awards for writing to winning big ones for my work,
Last 2 days of a decade full of wonderful journeys.
Raising a toast to the best decade of my life, 2000-2010!
Happy New Year :-)
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Kinginni - The Anklet
*P.S.: This entry has been declared the winner at the 'Moonlit lounge' contest at TWL. Click here for the judge's comments. Presenting the winning short story of the picture based story writing contest held at Writers Lounge. Yeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!! :D :D*
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This is my entry for a picture based story writing contest held at Writers Lounge. We were required to write a 500 word story on the picture used in the story below. Hope you all like my attempt. Long time since I sat down to write a story. Still rusty rusty :-)
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This is my entry for a picture based story writing contest held at Writers Lounge. We were required to write a 500 word story on the picture used in the story below. Hope you all like my attempt. Long time since I sat down to write a story. Still rusty rusty :-)
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KINGINNI - The Anklet
“When we die, we become stars. Forever shining and up there for people we love most”, Ammalu told her 5 year old girl.
“But Amma, you won’t even be able to see or hear me from far up there”, Kinginni frowned.
“Molu, you were named Kinginni which in our native tongue means the anklet. The sound of these anklets will inform me. There is always an invisible umbilical cord that connects a mother with her daughter, no matter how far she is”, Ammalu tried reassuring her daughter, wiping away tears which she had so valiantly fought for the past few months.
This conversation was still fresh in Kinginni’s mind though it had taken place two years back. Ammalu had passed away that very year, leaving Kinginni with her maternal grandmother and fisherman brother Velan. For the last two years, like a ritual Kinginni would head to the rocky beach towards the other end of her adopted home on every birthday of hers and converse with the brightest star closest to the moon. The sound made by her anklets would echo all around announcing her arrival. She would open her heart out to this twinkling star and share every single thing that had happened in the last one year. And the star would shine brightly while Kinginni smiled, fade out when she cried, twinkle at her complaints and bathe Kinginni in the cool moonlight when she would yearn for her mothers touch.
Today was her birthday. But things had gone terribly wrong. Kinginni had lost her anklets two days back while playing near the beach. She had spent the last two days crying. The new white frock her uncle gifted her this morning had failed to cheer her up. It had been raining heavily for the past few days and today was no different. As soon as it stopped raining towards the night, Kinginni made a dash to her spot. There was an eerie silence all around and the place sounded unfamiliar today without the echoes of her anklet. With a heavy heart, she glanced towards the sky. She let out a gasp on seeing the sky without a single star. Tears swelled up in her eyes and she rushed back unable to handle the shock.
She ran along the beach with the stream of tears gushing down her cheeks. She felt something prick her legs which made her stop. She had almost dismissed it as a thorn. But the shine of that object made her dig the surface of the sand only to reveal her anklets. Kinginni could not believe it. She thanked the sea for this gift on her birthday and rushed back to the spot, the anklet adorning her leg. The place echoed in rhythm to her pace as she sprinted to the corner. With a smile on her lips, she looked towards the sky in anticipation. And like God’s play, a strong wind blew the black clouds above revealing a bright twinkling star besides the moon.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Moment
"Ishitaaaaaaa...Ohhh My goddddd!! You here???...at this hour!! How??” Rahul was rubbing his eyes in amazement.
He could not get himself to believe that Ishita was here at his place at this unearthly hour. But Ishita had always been like that. Crazy to the core. And this was not the first time that Ishita had climbed up all the way to his room on the first floor. She had earlier surprised him on Valentine’s Day last year. She knew very well that Rahul slept with his balcony door wide open. He could not get himself to sleep without feeling the whiff of fresh air that the open door and windows brought in. He always knew that Ishita was a crazy girl, but her daredevil stunt on last Valentine’s Day had wiped away any iota of doubt he had in his mind. But that was last year. It seemed like ages ago. Things had not worked out the way they wanted to. It was a mutual decision to move on. The fact that Ishita's dad got transferred to Mumbai also didn’t help much.
"Ishitaaa!! Good Lord! I can't believe you are here. I thought we would never meet again. I have been missing you like crazy", Rahul's voice was choking with emotions. He had got over their break up with much difficulty. How could he forget all that suffering he went through just at the sight of his long lost love? He tried to control himself. The twinkle of love in his eyes vanished.
He stared hard at Ishita, "You never even bothered to call me up even once in all these months. I could not because no one here knew of your whereabouts. But at least you could have called me up. I have been pestering your best friend Roop all this while to get your contact details. She was adamant. And here you are.....turning up on my balcony without notice...just like that...and you feel that I will still be waiting for you here with arms wide open? Go away bhondu...sorry...Ishita...I wish not to go through the pains of parting all over again"
Rahul felt that Ishita wanted to say something, but the volley of words from Rahul's side had made her stop in her motions. She just looked at him lovingly and gave him her dimpled smile. He had prayed all these months for this moment. This one fleeting moment which he had thought would never come again in his life. His last wish had been to see her flash her dimples for him, for one last time. The moment that he wished to frame in his mind and take it along with him right to his grave. But life does not always turn out the way you wish it to. When you feel that everything is going fine, it transforms itself into an unknown entity. Rahul felt his heart melt when he saw Ishita turn and walk away. He could not see her depart like that. He tossed around in bed and buried his face in the pillows. He cried his heart out. It had taken every bit of his inner strength to show Ishita the door.
Rahul forced himself back to sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed for almost two hours. He could not get himself to sleep. There was this feeling of guilt within. He woke up with a start. Why had Ishita turned up all of a sudden today? She was here for a reason. She wanted to say something. What could be it? It was then that realization dawned on him. It was 25th Feb today!! Their anniversary! Ishita had remembered. She had come down all the way to patch up. His face lit up. All the hatred that had accumulated over the past many months faded away. He cursed himself for being rude to Ishita. He ran towards the balcony to catch her on her way down. She was nowhere in sight. Rahul rushed to his table and grabbed his bike keys. His phone rang that very instant.
"Hello...Rahul. Hi, Roop here. Hope i did not disturb you at this hour?"
"Rooop...No yaar...have you gone mad?? And i know what you have called for. I knew she would have reached your place by now. Hand over the phone to Ishita...right now...I scolded her a lot yar...Plz hand over!"
"Rahul....It's your anniversary today......right Rahul? Ishita had waited....waited for this day to patch things up with you. I think you should know this. She always missed you..........God! Give me strength to say this.....She is no longer with us Rahul.....She met with an accident on her way to my place. She.......passed away...She....left all of us....a few minutes ago"
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This story was selected by BlogAdda as one of their 5 "Spicy Saturday Picks" of the Indian blogosphere, on Feb 28th. 
This is what they had to say on my story at "The Writers Lounge":
Who : Sandeep Balan for Writer’s Lounge
What : The Moment
Spicy : Sandeep in this very well crafted post speaks about a moment which made a difference in the relationship and lives of the people involved, The post is sweet, touching and simply awesome! That is all we would like to say about this ‘Spicy Saturday Pick’!
----------------------------------------------------------Spicy : Sandeep in this very well crafted post speaks about a moment which made a difference in the relationship and lives of the people involved, The post is sweet, touching and simply awesome! That is all we would like to say about this ‘Spicy Saturday Pick’!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Rainolism
Rains are here again! When it rains in Mumbai, it pours. A hell lot of technological advances has created a lot of alternate 'things to do' in this season, apart from the obvious 'getting drenched'. Social media featuring prominently amongst them.
- Facebookers to the rescue of meteoro'logical' department (Category: Social Media) I can't remember the last time we saw 'logic' in the department's predictions. Today, the number of friends you have on social media platform helps you plan. For those who got drenched on their way to office, how many times do you have to be reminded to check the status updates of your friends before making plans! If there are status updates remotely close to 'I got drenched', 'stuck in a jam at Andheri', 'Milan subway is clogged', 'Just walked through knee deep waters to reach office' etc., then you know what to expect. So look out for the update. If your friends consider themselves even remotely 'cool', you can bank on them to update their status via mobile of his/her herculean task of beating the rains at their own game. 'Sharing' is your ticket to social acceptance.
- Facebookers to the rescue of News Channels (Category: Social Media) It's considered hip to be the first to update 'It's raining.' The fact that you are not blind to see it yourself does not matter because your friends had the grey cells to identify that it is actually water coming down from the clouds above. And like Archemedes, they emphatically updated their status message with this discovery to stake their claim of being the most clued on. Life is a race brother, and Facebook is the Olympics. An optional 'I love rains. Don't you?' is a good conversation starter.
- The Kite Runner (Category: Things 'to do' in office) Buy a car, dude. And wish for the rains to come down heavily. And then pray for the source of your attention to leave office when it is raining the heaviest. There are a lot of kites without strings flying around, especially in this season. Glances will turn into smiles, then to conversations and finally to the coffee table, if you are willing to offer a ride back home. Mumbai rains, Mumbai traffic and Mumbai's auto/taxi drivers combine to make a dangerous concoction and you can play the antidote! Rains can bring out the gold digger in you. Time to get working!
- The age old adage (Category: Lifestyle) Come rains, and it's 'Late to Office, Early to home' for Mumbaikars. Who says Pub's defined the term 'happy hours'?
Enjoy the rains!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Ragpicker
I dedicate this short story to Stephen Anthony, my brother from the blogworld and The Solitary Writer. This short story is for the 200th post on your blog which you had honoured me with, Ste. Hope you like my attempt at fiction :-)
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Mornings without my toast sandwich at Durga's was unimaginable. Like a daily ritual, lured by the taste of Babubhai's sandwiches, which has a tendency to linger on your tongue well after its consumed, I would end up daily at this roadside joint for my bite. Today is no different. Here I am, biting into my toast sandwich. Savouring the melting butter and crunchy bread in my mouth.
I look around me. Everyone is in a tearing hurry. Motorbikes zig zag their way through the traffic while irritated drivers shout at the ones in front sticking their heads out of their vehicles, egging them to move. The chirping of birds gets lost in the constant honks of motor vehicles. Its mayhem everywhere. Curses and abuses flow around like it were running out of fashion. A Parsi looking guy is concerned about the scratch the speeding motorbike just left on his brand new car. His abuses get lost in another set of honks from the vehicles behind him. Two Muslim women take advantage of the halt and cross the road along with their children. They walk past me shaking their heads and cursing the rising traffic related problems of this city. I see a young man get out of his rickshaw stuck in the jam and making his way to the front with files clutched tightly in his hands. All set for the interview, I think. I can feel the tension writ large on his face. He hardly notices the beggar who pleads him for alms, but folds his hands and seeks blessings from the temple at the corner while still finding his way out of this jungle of vehicles. Pleading for Divine intervention. Strange how our prayers are so dependent on each other. For beggar, it would have been like answer to his prayers if the young guy would have dropped a couple of nickels in his bowl. And the young chap desires divine help to impress the person he is going to meet, so that he drops the job offer in his bowl. In this sea of vehicles and irritated audience, there is hardly anyone who has a smile on his face. I see tense faces, angry ones, irritated bunch and the vocal lot.
Babubhai places my tea on the table. I take a sip and marvel at the fact that how conveniently we have forgotten to smile. There are seemingly a million forces at work to wipe off that smile from your face. All that matters is how to cling on to the next rope from the one that you are hanging from presently. All I see around is childhood lost. Innocence raped. Conscience murdered.
I glance at my watch. Its 9:00 am. Time to move. I gulp the remnants of my cup and head to clear my dues. I let out a small shriek at the new set of honks from the background. That's when I notice the little ragpicker behind this bread stall, combing through the garbage and sorting out stuff. In that moment, to me his garbage bag looks like the route to salvation for all the discarded articles within his sight. Those who go into his back are in with a chance for a better tomorrow while the others retire to their destiny. The ragpicker goes about his business and moves his hands through the garbage like an expert. His hands have been trained to sift wheat from the chaff. He has been thrown in front of life to face its brutalities and survive, while his peers are parroting their way through Darwin's theory of survival of the fittest. Strange are the ways of nature.
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Mornings without my toast sandwich at Durga's was unimaginable. Like a daily ritual, lured by the taste of Babubhai's sandwiches, which has a tendency to linger on your tongue well after its consumed, I would end up daily at this roadside joint for my bite. Today is no different. Here I am, biting into my toast sandwich. Savouring the melting butter and crunchy bread in my mouth.
I look around me. Everyone is in a tearing hurry. Motorbikes zig zag their way through the traffic while irritated drivers shout at the ones in front sticking their heads out of their vehicles, egging them to move. The chirping of birds gets lost in the constant honks of motor vehicles. Its mayhem everywhere. Curses and abuses flow around like it were running out of fashion. A Parsi looking guy is concerned about the scratch the speeding motorbike just left on his brand new car. His abuses get lost in another set of honks from the vehicles behind him. Two Muslim women take advantage of the halt and cross the road along with their children. They walk past me shaking their heads and cursing the rising traffic related problems of this city. I see a young man get out of his rickshaw stuck in the jam and making his way to the front with files clutched tightly in his hands. All set for the interview, I think. I can feel the tension writ large on his face. He hardly notices the beggar who pleads him for alms, but folds his hands and seeks blessings from the temple at the corner while still finding his way out of this jungle of vehicles. Pleading for Divine intervention. Strange how our prayers are so dependent on each other. For beggar, it would have been like answer to his prayers if the young guy would have dropped a couple of nickels in his bowl. And the young chap desires divine help to impress the person he is going to meet, so that he drops the job offer in his bowl. In this sea of vehicles and irritated audience, there is hardly anyone who has a smile on his face. I see tense faces, angry ones, irritated bunch and the vocal lot.Babubhai places my tea on the table. I take a sip and marvel at the fact that how conveniently we have forgotten to smile. There are seemingly a million forces at work to wipe off that smile from your face. All that matters is how to cling on to the next rope from the one that you are hanging from presently. All I see around is childhood lost. Innocence raped. Conscience murdered.
I glance at my watch. Its 9:00 am. Time to move. I gulp the remnants of my cup and head to clear my dues. I let out a small shriek at the new set of honks from the background. That's when I notice the little ragpicker behind this bread stall, combing through the garbage and sorting out stuff. In that moment, to me his garbage bag looks like the route to salvation for all the discarded articles within his sight. Those who go into his back are in with a chance for a better tomorrow while the others retire to their destiny. The ragpicker goes about his business and moves his hands through the garbage like an expert. His hands have been trained to sift wheat from the chaff. He has been thrown in front of life to face its brutalities and survive, while his peers are parroting their way through Darwin's theory of survival of the fittest. Strange are the ways of nature.
My thoughts are interrupted with a sudden change of expression on the face of the ragpicker. He seems to have come across something significant for him to let go off his bag and get completely involved with the catch. At a closer glance, I recognize the wrapping. A bar of chocolate. As the ragpicker unwraps his find, I can see a beam of happiness in that smile of his. The smile of contentment. Unwary and uncaring of what lies ahead in the day. Just enjoying this moment of bliss. Living in the moment. I smile having witnessed this scene. I silently wish how better off we would be if we could start living and enjoying the moment while it lasts instead of worrying about what lies ahead. I silently wish for some sanity in this seemingly insane world. I silently wish for the lost childhood in each one of us. I silently wish for a better tomorrow.
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*Pic courtesy : Sandwich wallah - Novin
Sunday, January 10, 2010
The Classroom
It felt great coming back to college after 15 years. Nothing had changed. The same old classrooms, same old corridors, same old stairways winding upwards and that same old welcoming breeze. I felt immune to the chill of Delhi winters from the moment I stepped into the School of Management. Guess it's something that places you feel secure in does to you. You feel that invisible, securing presence around you. I walked straight towards my classroom, to unlock all the memories that I had fought back for 15 long years.
The entrance to the classrooms had been freshly painted with a coat of cream colour. It looked seemingly wet. It arrested my impulse to push open the doors and soak in the feeling of being present in the room that had shaped me. To unlock all the memories the room held. I could pay a fortune to shout, "Present Sir", when the professors would call out "Nisha Nayak". 15 years of climbing the corporate ladder had given me all the comforts I could have asked for when I started off. I was happily married with two kids. I had the most caring husband I could have asked for. And I loved him, atleast tried my best to. However hard I would try, I could never love someone as much as I had loved Nishant. This was the classroom where we had spent countless hours discussing about everything under the sun. He was the craziest and funniest person I had ever known. If only I could have told him that I loved him, then maybe things would have been different today. But maybe he didn't love me. Atleast he would have told me so if he did, despite him being the most shy guy on planet when it came to matters of love. Wasn't that what I loved about him most? The way he would blush when you tried teasing him. Atleast I should have tried getting out his feelings for me. Wasn't I waiting for a mere "Do You?" from his side to succumb? Or was it just the figment of my imagination? I would never know. He was as friendly with other girls as he was with me. Neither was I among the prettiest, nor the smartest to even dream of a "Yes" from his side. So why would I have bothered asking him out? Aren't boys supposed to do that? Things are so much easier for today's generation with emails & mobile texts & what not! Ask me how difficult it was to bring pen to paper. The little notes I used to leave for Nishant in the secret compartment of our desk, the existence of which only we two knew, and waiting for his replies were the only thing I looked forward to. How I wished one of those notes would contain an "I Love You" scribbled somewhere in between those lines. Till the very day he left before us at the end of the course for a family emergency, I had waited and prayed for him to express his feelings. I was such a fool in believing that Nishant loved me. But I knew I did, because I have never felt anything as pure and as strong as my feelings towards him till this date. Not even towards my husband for 10 years. My every morning used to start with him by my side in the classroom and end with him waving me goodbye. I had learnt to live without him. Last 15 years I had shut his memories away. Till this very day when this classroom brought back all those moments back.
I could not control myself and swinged open the doors. The smell of wood and chalk filled my nostrils. I glanced at my watch. 7:30 am. There was still time before students of the current batch would start trickling in. I was scheduled to give a guest lecture at 9 am. I stood at the centre and ran my eyes through the semi circle arrangement of seats. They hadn't changed the furniture. Just a fresh coat of polish had left the old benches shining like new. My row was the fourth from the start. I saw there were two Nisha's in this batch and their nameplates were in place where me and Nishant used to sit. I walked towards those seats, minus the spring in my steps back in college days when the mere thought of sitting besides Nishant would send my pulse racing. I sat on my seat and looked around to visualise my other batchmates around me. Did I even notice who all sat where back then? My mind used to be so preoccupied with Nishant that it did not have the faintest clue about the surroundings. Questions came crashing again to my mind. Why did he have to leave like this without a single word? Why hadn't he left his number with any of his friends or on the official records? Why had he not come to me before leaving? He couldn't even wait to bid me goodbye. Even if he didn't love me the way I used to, we were friends enough for him to say those parting words to me. For me, the relation with this classroom ended the day Kaveri told me that Nishant had to leave for his home all of a sudden. It didn't make much of a difference because our final exams were over and after a week more of formalities and paperwork, we were all headed to our homes & careers. I had not stepped into this classroom since then. Someone had sucked the life out of this classroom. Till this very moment, I had done pretty well to resist a place I simply loved being in. I settled in my seat which was a routine for me 15 years back. I looked at my desk and ran my hands on it. On impulse, my hands reached out for the bottom of the desk to slide out the small shaft of wood. Then as if acting on a mind of its own, the fingers reached out for a small box shaped wooden box open at the sides from under the shaft. Our little secret box. Where me and Nishant used to leave small notes for each other. I pulled it out. Seemed like no one had discovered this place post our times. I placed the box at the desk. For a moment I couldn't beleive my eyes. There was a note tucked in there. With trembling hands I pulled out the yellow note and opened it.
"Dearest Nisha. I have always loved you. I don't know if you do love me as well. I don't have the guts to ask you out and face rejection. A lot has happened in the last 24 hours. My stepmother has filed for a divorce from Dad for reasons I don't know and Dad has suffered a major stroke an hour back. I have to immediately leave for home. I have not told anyone anything about this personal mess up of my family. But before leaving, I just wanted to confess my love and not live with the feeling that I never tried. I know you will check this secret cabinet for sure tomorrow morning when you attend classes, like we do as a ritual every day. And If you love me as well, please call me at my home #022-34332. No regrets if you don't, because you have taught me what falling in love with someone is. You have taught me there are reasons apart from breakfast to look forward to in a new day when you retire to bed. You have taught me the wonders a smile of a loved one can do on you. And every day of the last two years, I have lived every moment just to see that smile on you. You bring sunshine into my dark life every morning with your note in our secret compartment. Just wanted you to know. I love you. Nishant"
A few drops blotted few words on the note. Drops of my bleeding heart.
The entrance to the classrooms had been freshly painted with a coat of cream colour. It looked seemingly wet. It arrested my impulse to push open the doors and soak in the feeling of being present in the room that had shaped me. To unlock all the memories the room held. I could pay a fortune to shout, "Present Sir", when the professors would call out "Nisha Nayak". 15 years of climbing the corporate ladder had given me all the comforts I could have asked for when I started off. I was happily married with two kids. I had the most caring husband I could have asked for. And I loved him, atleast tried my best to. However hard I would try, I could never love someone as much as I had loved Nishant. This was the classroom where we had spent countless hours discussing about everything under the sun. He was the craziest and funniest person I had ever known. If only I could have told him that I loved him, then maybe things would have been different today. But maybe he didn't love me. Atleast he would have told me so if he did, despite him being the most shy guy on planet when it came to matters of love. Wasn't that what I loved about him most? The way he would blush when you tried teasing him. Atleast I should have tried getting out his feelings for me. Wasn't I waiting for a mere "Do You?" from his side to succumb? Or was it just the figment of my imagination? I would never know. He was as friendly with other girls as he was with me. Neither was I among the prettiest, nor the smartest to even dream of a "Yes" from his side. So why would I have bothered asking him out? Aren't boys supposed to do that? Things are so much easier for today's generation with emails & mobile texts & what not! Ask me how difficult it was to bring pen to paper. The little notes I used to leave for Nishant in the secret compartment of our desk, the existence of which only we two knew, and waiting for his replies were the only thing I looked forward to. How I wished one of those notes would contain an "I Love You" scribbled somewhere in between those lines. Till the very day he left before us at the end of the course for a family emergency, I had waited and prayed for him to express his feelings. I was such a fool in believing that Nishant loved me. But I knew I did, because I have never felt anything as pure and as strong as my feelings towards him till this date. Not even towards my husband for 10 years. My every morning used to start with him by my side in the classroom and end with him waving me goodbye. I had learnt to live without him. Last 15 years I had shut his memories away. Till this very day when this classroom brought back all those moments back.
I could not control myself and swinged open the doors. The smell of wood and chalk filled my nostrils. I glanced at my watch. 7:30 am. There was still time before students of the current batch would start trickling in. I was scheduled to give a guest lecture at 9 am. I stood at the centre and ran my eyes through the semi circle arrangement of seats. They hadn't changed the furniture. Just a fresh coat of polish had left the old benches shining like new. My row was the fourth from the start. I saw there were two Nisha's in this batch and their nameplates were in place where me and Nishant used to sit. I walked towards those seats, minus the spring in my steps back in college days when the mere thought of sitting besides Nishant would send my pulse racing. I sat on my seat and looked around to visualise my other batchmates around me. Did I even notice who all sat where back then? My mind used to be so preoccupied with Nishant that it did not have the faintest clue about the surroundings. Questions came crashing again to my mind. Why did he have to leave like this without a single word? Why hadn't he left his number with any of his friends or on the official records? Why had he not come to me before leaving? He couldn't even wait to bid me goodbye. Even if he didn't love me the way I used to, we were friends enough for him to say those parting words to me. For me, the relation with this classroom ended the day Kaveri told me that Nishant had to leave for his home all of a sudden. It didn't make much of a difference because our final exams were over and after a week more of formalities and paperwork, we were all headed to our homes & careers. I had not stepped into this classroom since then. Someone had sucked the life out of this classroom. Till this very moment, I had done pretty well to resist a place I simply loved being in. I settled in my seat which was a routine for me 15 years back. I looked at my desk and ran my hands on it. On impulse, my hands reached out for the bottom of the desk to slide out the small shaft of wood. Then as if acting on a mind of its own, the fingers reached out for a small box shaped wooden box open at the sides from under the shaft. Our little secret box. Where me and Nishant used to leave small notes for each other. I pulled it out. Seemed like no one had discovered this place post our times. I placed the box at the desk. For a moment I couldn't beleive my eyes. There was a note tucked in there. With trembling hands I pulled out the yellow note and opened it.
"Dearest Nisha. I have always loved you. I don't know if you do love me as well. I don't have the guts to ask you out and face rejection. A lot has happened in the last 24 hours. My stepmother has filed for a divorce from Dad for reasons I don't know and Dad has suffered a major stroke an hour back. I have to immediately leave for home. I have not told anyone anything about this personal mess up of my family. But before leaving, I just wanted to confess my love and not live with the feeling that I never tried. I know you will check this secret cabinet for sure tomorrow morning when you attend classes, like we do as a ritual every day. And If you love me as well, please call me at my home #022-34332. No regrets if you don't, because you have taught me what falling in love with someone is. You have taught me there are reasons apart from breakfast to look forward to in a new day when you retire to bed. You have taught me the wonders a smile of a loved one can do on you. And every day of the last two years, I have lived every moment just to see that smile on you. You bring sunshine into my dark life every morning with your note in our secret compartment. Just wanted you to know. I love you. Nishant"
A few drops blotted few words on the note. Drops of my bleeding heart.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Alumni Ki Kahaani, Unki Zubaani - Blogisode 1
The world is crazy. Managers crazier! So how can the students turned "so called" managers who passed out of the hallowed portals (*Conditions apply) of the School of management be any different? The yeM Bee yAe team tracks down some well known alumnus from the School of Management and presents in a 2 min capsule their struggles with this crazy world. How have these guys managed to survive the system? How have they managed to tackle the pressures of life? What is their secret ingredient?
This whole new reality blog series puts these alumnus under the microscope of humour and shares their secret of success with the mortals.
Recruit 1: Nal-jyoti Kumar (Batch XIV)
And the juggernaut rolls......
Monday, December 28, 2009
Pentagon Speaks - Placements (II)
Hi,
I am the Pentagon reporting from the School of Management. Yes...Yes...we had our first round of introductions in the last post. A lot has happened in the last 10 days. I have become popular amongst you all. I have also featured prominently on Channel V's "Dare to Date" this Friday, supporting the weight of two dumb souls. And all the while I was thinking that I am located in a B-School and could feature only on CNBC's of the world like I have in the past. You can still catch me on the re-runs of the last episode of the show on Channel V till the next one goes on air the coming Friday. So be tuned in to Channel V. For all those who missed, catch the episode HERE. And no, that guy is not from the School of Management. Infact, we don't have a BBA course here! Lies media blurt out for locations!
Things at the School of Management are a bit tensed at present. With the first leg of placements over, and the end terms taking over, we are heading towards the most tense period and the last leg of placements. A relaxed 2010 for some, and a tense, make or break 2010 for the less fortunate souls.
Continuing from where I left in the last post, where I helped categorize students who have been placed/are in the process of being placed into different universal categories, comes my next post. We unraveled the mystery of one category and will lift the veil of a new cateogry in this post. Understanding what goes behind the transformation of these normal batchmates of yours into superheroes. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental
The identity and status of this bunch is revealed on the first night itself. Like in all arranged marriages, where your snaps can transport you all the way to the altar but from there its your ability to please your wife after the ceremonies that determines the course of your married life. This category of students manage to reach the altar to tie the knot with their prospective employer on the swayamvar stage, basis the strength of their CV's. But more often than not, they fizzle out when it comes to stamina and style, when the company "makes out"* with them for the first time. (*To be read as "Group Discussions Leg")
Like all heartbroken "would be" rejected prospects, they desperately seek divine blessings and stamina increasing capsules in the form of advises to leave their mark in the rannbhoomi, but the fear of performing when it matters most consumes them in its wake. You can identify the students from this category if you watch out for the following signs:
Always remember my words: Impotency can be cured. Pessimism can't.
I am the Pentagon reporting from the School of Management. Yes...Yes...we had our first round of introductions in the last post. A lot has happened in the last 10 days. I have become popular amongst you all. I have also featured prominently on Channel V's "Dare to Date" this Friday, supporting the weight of two dumb souls. And all the while I was thinking that I am located in a B-School and could feature only on CNBC's of the world like I have in the past. You can still catch me on the re-runs of the last episode of the show on Channel V till the next one goes on air the coming Friday. So be tuned in to Channel V. For all those who missed, catch the episode HERE. And no, that guy is not from the School of Management. Infact, we don't have a BBA course here! Lies media blurt out for locations!
Things at the School of Management are a bit tensed at present. With the first leg of placements over, and the end terms taking over, we are heading towards the most tense period and the last leg of placements. A relaxed 2010 for some, and a tense, make or break 2010 for the less fortunate souls.
Continuing from where I left in the last post, where I helped categorize students who have been placed/are in the process of being placed into different universal categories, comes my next post. We unraveled the mystery of one category and will lift the veil of a new cateogry in this post. Understanding what goes behind the transformation of these normal batchmates of yours into superheroes. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental
- Category 2: IT (Impotent Tigers)
The identity and status of this bunch is revealed on the first night itself. Like in all arranged marriages, where your snaps can transport you all the way to the altar but from there its your ability to please your wife after the ceremonies that determines the course of your married life. This category of students manage to reach the altar to tie the knot with their prospective employer on the swayamvar stage, basis the strength of their CV's. But more often than not, they fizzle out when it comes to stamina and style, when the company "makes out"* with them for the first time. (*To be read as "Group Discussions Leg")
Like all heartbroken "would be" rejected prospects, they desperately seek divine blessings and stamina increasing capsules in the form of advises to leave their mark in the rannbhoomi, but the fear of performing when it matters most consumes them in its wake. You can identify the students from this category if you watch out for the following signs:
- Clean shaven and upbeat on days when the company is on campus, bearded and forlorn look at all other times
- The one who is there at every process for their friends, and breaks out into wild celebrations the moment the news of their placement reaches him. When alone, curses their good luck and his fate at not being at his place.
- Looks towards the sky while sipping tea, as if searching for answers from the cosmic being
- Dialogues like, "I am not worth it", "I am useless", "Mera kuch nahi ho sakta", "Kismat hi footi huvi hain", "What on earth does the company want?", "Why me?", "I was the best out there, still they selected him and not me"
Always remember my words: Impotency can be cured. Pessimism can't.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Pentagon Speaks - Placements
Hi. I am the Pentagon. The Pentagon at the School of Management. Yes, the pentagon! The center point. The meeting point. The eating point. The mating point* (Conditions apply). I see. I reflect. I absorb. I analyze. I scrutinize. I wonder. I squirm. I yell. I scream. I Celebrate. I Cry. I know it all. I am the Pentagon. The one who sees it all. The one who is better placed than a MBA, and placed in a MBA college. A prestigious one for that matter (*Challenges to these claims are Subject to Delhi Jurisdication)
From the thin ones to the fatso's, from the hot ones to the utter disgusting ones, from the pervert ones trembling with excitement to the ones sweating before placement interviews, from the joint ones to the aching ones; I have seen them* all, supported them* all (*to be read as "bums"). I have braved scorching summers and numbing winters to tell tales of batch after batch, wave after wave. Well, more about me later. Let me get into the current mood of the campus and analyze the package fever and profile hunger that has gripped the current batch, like dozens before them. "That time of the year" is back on campus. So, I decided to start off with placements in my first interaction with the outside world and inside pentagon warmers.
In the first few posts, I will help categorize students who have been placed/are in the process of being placed into different universal categories. We will unravel the mysteries of one category every post and understand what goes behind the transformation of these normal batchmates of yours into superheroes. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental
- Category 1: Premature Ejaculation Heroes
These select bunch stand apart, not only getting richer by many lakhs in the form of a placement offer but also turn preachers and consultants for their "yet-to-be-placed" 99% batchmates, transforming what was an accident by design into a planned, goal oriented approach.
For an outsider, you can differentiate these elite bunch from the rest by these following signs:
- Usually surrounded with a group of people.
- The only one speaking in the group of students trembling with fear.
- Animatedly gesturing and explaining things to wonder eyed juniors.
- If you overhear someone speaking these lines, then he/she is definitely from the premature ejaculation category: "I always wanted to be in this company", "Fulfilled a long cherished dream", "Just plain lucky, but yaa...I always knew I would make it", "Read Economic Times, like i do", "This is how you should approach your interviews", "Companies look for candidates who are....", "Just be yourself. And the company should be able to see these qualities in you...like..."
This VIP status also helps them decimate competition when it comes to wooing outsiders and win a brownie point against potential competition. An example to help you understand this better. Say, Aashish who has already been placed sees Jiggy chatting away to glory with a hot girl from the neighborhood college. If he wishes, he can always go one up and even win the attention of the girl with a simple line like, "Hi Jiggy! Was searching for you buddy. I got the offer letter today boss. By the way, I heard you have not been shortlisted for Cheap Chemicals. Not to worry bro. Everyone has a day *glances at the hot girl besides Jiggy* Hey...Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii"
Hats off to the Premature Ejaculation Heroes.
Next post for the dissection and analysis of a new category.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
News Article: Was The Hacking a Statistical Attack?
*Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and a figment of writers imagination*
Dec 1, 2009
Qutab Institutional Area, New Delhi
In a shocking turn of events, what was being touted as the most intelligent and purposeful hacking ever carried out on the site of an educational site is now turning out to be an act of rivalry carried out with meticulous perfection. The truth was unearthed by a team of experts who could see traces of regression, ANOVA and t-test in the patterns of photos that were uploaded on the new site of this college. This startling discovery paved way for a sudden twist to this now famous case, taking the suspicion off Mr. Saurabh Baju to the statistical tools expert, Mr. Haar-NO Bindra.
"Hacking my foot! I only know how hard it was to code when I was working, and this hacking is way out of my league! I was holidaying and cooling my brains in the heat of Jaipur after putting in my heart and soul into this new site for more than a month. A well deserved break I call it. And what 70% photos are you talking of? I am there in only 3 photos out of two dozen on the site, a clear sign that regression was applied while planting this. And there is only a single guy in the batch who uses these statistical tools where it is least required, like it were running out of fashion. And that is my very good friend, Mr. Haar-NO Bindra", said a visibly shocked Mr. Baju, the co-coordinator of the Brandy Cell, who was apparently greeted with lot of loud cheers and a heroic welcome on his return to college today. A closer analysis at the patterns of photographs appearing on the site clearly show that Factorial ANOVA has been used by the hacker to find the effect of two independent variables, Baju and college.
A first year student from the college, Mr. P.K. Talli gave us some more insights, "Haar-NO is a dear friend of mine. No....no...you heard it wrong.....Not "Hor-Ny".....it's "Haar-No"....my bengali accent makes it sound like Hor-Ny most of the times. Haar-No's grasp over all the subjects amazed me the very first day I interacted with him. Its only when I read my marketing and statistics text books for the mid-term, that the realization dawned on me that Haar-No had explained something completely different from what was written here and made no sense whatsoever. Nonetheless, I thought that maybe the college imbibes in you this skill of developing your own theories and thereby letting you widen the scope of existing models. I got it that very day that he is destined for great things. I remember him telling me that one thing he hates most is DISCO experience holders. He even helped me explain why, by sketching out an elaborate model on how DISCO directly opposed the 4P's of setting up a Brandy Cell. Though I was watching porn when he was presenting the idea to my batch, I supported him for the Brandy Cell. Ofcourse there was a need for one because of the distance between the college and border where we get it cheaper, wherein the germ of the idea was born. But Bindra started sensing competition in Baju, who worked his ass out to make it a reality. Who on earth would have known that Haar-No would keep that in mind and apply all the statistics that he uses right from deciding on what to have for breakfast to which bedsheet to use in cracking this sinister plot? Imagine the genius of a guy who uses Marketing mix model, which is often used to optimize promotional tactics with respect to profit, in day to day life by using it time and again in all the discussions with Professors. No wonder he fares well in all CP. Some jealous souls call it DCP, but I feel it requires great skill, patience and planned approach, which is commendable. Such a genius plot which requires great knowledge of statistical tools and promotional marketing could have been cracked by the one and only, Mr. Haar-No Bindra".
Mr. Haar-No Bindra was not available for comment. Neither has an official declaration been made by the brandy cell despite wonder eyed junior girls, who made a big sacrifice by skipping the afternoon Ranbir Kapoor movie, doing a demonstration outside the Cell demanding justice for Mr. Baju. All the single senior guys participated in this demonstration whole-heartedly outside the college, while the single junior guys were strictly asked by FCD to remain in their classes or else get their names striked out of summer placements.
-
yeM yeS Swaminathan
yeM Bee yAe Campus News Correspondent
Monday, November 30, 2009
News Article: College Site Hacked?
*This is purely a work of fiction and a figment of writers imagination*
Nov 30, 2009
Qutab Institutional Area, New Delhi
Shockwaves spread across the country as reports of hacking of a prestigious Delhi based management school's website started trickling in. Mr. Vivek Raveendran, who noticed a change in the website of his college in the wee hours of early morning while still chatting with 4 female batchmates in the name of group discussion, was the first to call up yeM Bee yAe Campus News correspondent Swaminathan to report this incident. Incidentally, he demanded 150 Rs. to divulge more details, citing girlfriends birthday and rising internet charges.
"I was discussing what to have for breakfast in college canteen tomorrow with my project partner Pooja, when I decided to pay my second visit to our college's website. The last time I had done so was when i was checking my admission status, and my computer had succumbed to a deadly virus attack. In a way I am grateful because that was how I got this new PC. I have been eyeing this new laptop a junior brings to college everyday and been after dad to get me the same. Dad's decision of not getting me a new one till the time my PC is up and running was causing me a lot of emotional stress. I thought that visiting my college's website again could be beneficial because being a computer engineer myself, I had full confidence in the virus. But what followed surprised me! In place of the old site, there was this swanky new site with colourful images all over. The surprise soon became shock when I saw a common link in almost 70% of the images. The face of my very good friend, Saurabh Baju. Every 2nd photo, he was there. Being a computer engineer from a reputed college, I knew in a jiffy that the site has been hacked by Saurabh Baju", Vivek said.
Mr. Saurabh Baju, 26, a second year MBA student from this Delhi based management institute managed to create a stir with harakiri on the official website of his college. What followed were frantic searches and phone calls to Saurabh by friends and professors in vain. Not-So-Jigyaasu Bharadwaj and Bash-wat Mishra were teary eyed at the sudden disappearnce of their friend and his so called resurfacing all over college website in different poses. "He was a normal boy. I always used to laugh when he used to claim that he was an engineer. I thought he couldnt uncode even a girl, and here he was claiming to be a guru of codes. I had my suspicions when he started getting his snaps clicked at different places in college, but never knew he would use them to hack the site and upload his pics there. Suddenly, he is the hero and everyone wants to know more about him. With just 4 months left in college, he has poured cold water on all my plans to impress girls with my coding skills. Everyone calls him the dark coder now. I am reduced to a nobody", said a teary eyed Not-So-Jigyasu Bharadwaj. His close friend, Bash-wat Mishra was equally surprised, "I had once caught Baju chatting under the pseudonym of Vampire_Innocent Kiss. I was sure of one thing, this guy can do anything to impress the fairer sex. But, I never knew he was this sharp". A wonder eyed, cute looking junior who had not known of Baju's existence till today morning was full of praise for him. "Oh!! He looks so cute with that silver frame and that charming smile. And he's got brains too. I loved the snap on the home page where he is in his blazer looking intently at the laptop. So intelligent he looks there.....and so cuteeeee!! Awwwww. Plus the one where he is sitting between the exchange students. He is a cutie pie. And ya ya ya...the one where he is sitting at the dhaba. Holy cow!! I think i am in love with him. Saurabh, if you are reading this....come back soon....and marry me please!!"
Saurabh Baju remains missing and no one knows his whereabouts. But everyone is full praise on the new website he has gifted to the college, peppered with his pictures. Baju has just written his name in the history books of the college. A prodigy is born.
-
yeM. yeS. Swaminathan,
yeM Bee yAe Campus News Correspondent
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
My Final Goodbye To You All
"You all have made my past one and a half year of my existence here the most memorable. I laughed, cried and frowned with all of you here. My home was no longer far. It was right here at my fingertips. The homesickness was gone. With all of you by my side whenever I needed a hug or a shoulder, I felt safe. I felt at peace. I have always believed that it is the waves of time and of experiences that give you a shape. That make you the person you are. You are born without a shape and as these waves hit you, it chisels your soul and leaves behind "you". Thanks for being the waves which helped me shape into a wonderful human being. Thanks for leaving behind a will to face challenges. Thanks for bearing with my tantrums. You all have been my friends and siblings and this place has been my primary abode. Thanks for making my home so beautiful to live in. Thanks for decorating it with your comments on my work.
My time has come. Time to move on. Time to leave all of you here. I have formed some forever friends here. I have tried my best to give you the best of what I had. Parting is inevitable. It's time for me to detach from you all. As I fade into memory, hope the memories i gifted always stay fresh in your mind. Hope the stories i narrated could manage to make you smile and helped you see the lighter side of things. If my philosophy has made a difference, then I feel blessed. Sorry for making you cry with all the emotional stories, but it was to make you realize that happiness and grief are two sides of the same coin.
A star has its life. It twinkles brightly, fades with time and then sizzles away. It knows its time has come. And when it does, it severes its ties and lets it go. They say if you wish something when you see a falling star, the wish would come true. That's how even in its dying moments, the star instills hope in everyone out there. And it makes its life worthwile. If I have been able to instill hope in even one of you through my works, I consider my stay worthwile. I consider my life worthwile. I consider my decision to start and shape this place the way it is today worthwile.
I will be here for you all. Like a guardian angel. Watching all of you from behind an invisible veil. Seeing you do stuff will make me proud of having shared this space with such brilliant minds. I will miss you all. With a heavy heart I bid goodbye to all.
Adios!"
Director: "Cutttttttttt!!! What a shot, Sandeep!! You got into the skin of the role of a priest embarking on his last journey to the "t"!! Good shot! Team......break for lunch!"
My time has come. Time to move on. Time to leave all of you here. I have formed some forever friends here. I have tried my best to give you the best of what I had. Parting is inevitable. It's time for me to detach from you all. As I fade into memory, hope the memories i gifted always stay fresh in your mind. Hope the stories i narrated could manage to make you smile and helped you see the lighter side of things. If my philosophy has made a difference, then I feel blessed. Sorry for making you cry with all the emotional stories, but it was to make you realize that happiness and grief are two sides of the same coin.
A star has its life. It twinkles brightly, fades with time and then sizzles away. It knows its time has come. And when it does, it severes its ties and lets it go. They say if you wish something when you see a falling star, the wish would come true. That's how even in its dying moments, the star instills hope in everyone out there. And it makes its life worthwile. If I have been able to instill hope in even one of you through my works, I consider my stay worthwile. I consider my life worthwile. I consider my decision to start and shape this place the way it is today worthwile.
I will be here for you all. Like a guardian angel. Watching all of you from behind an invisible veil. Seeing you do stuff will make me proud of having shared this space with such brilliant minds. I will miss you all. With a heavy heart I bid goodbye to all.
Adios!"
Director: "Cutttttttttt!!! What a shot, Sandeep!! You got into the skin of the role of a priest embarking on his last journey to the "t"!! Good shot! Team......break for lunch!"
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
My Dearest
Dearest Ammu,
Today you turn 13. Welcome to the teenage years. Welcome to this new phase of your life where life becomes fun and challenging at the same time. What will unfold will be undoubtedly the best years of your life. You have been everything I ever wished for in a sister. Infact, you are the best sister ever! The last 12 years have been simply wonderful. You have been the only reason for me to look ahead for a new hope filled morning after a dull day.
You etched your image in my heart forever with that toothless smile you gave me the moment Amma kept you in my lap, the day you were born. When I close my eyes at night, it's that image which comes to my mind. I still laugh out loud when i remember the day when you as a toddler passed urine while sitting on my lap, and the school bus kept honking for me to board while Amma was busy pulling out a new pair of uniforms from the cupboard. I dont think you would recollect, but I was the one on whom you first tested the sharpness of your tiny teeth which had sprouted out of nowhere. It felt like a hundred syringes had just been inserted in my cheek. And you know how scared I am of syringes! The moment I was back from school I would head straight towards the bedroom, where Amma would be trying all the tricks in the book to get you to sleep, to catch that smile of yours on seeing me. And you would never disappoint. You were the angel sent to me by god. I relive all those moments every single day.
Everyday, I dream about you bringing the whole house down with your cries. There is not a single day which passes without your thought crossing my mind. I so wish you were around to see me join college. I so wish you were around to cheer me in all my achievements. I so wish you were around to bully me and pester me with all the requests only a sister has rights to. I so wish I could shower you with all kinds of gifts in this world. Sometimes I wish I could see how would look when you turned 13. For me, you will forever be that 1 year old cutie pie who managed to call me "Chetta" before God took you away. That word still echoes in my ears, every single day. For me you will always be the angel who still guides me from up above.
I miss you every second Ammu. Happy birthday to the best sister in this world! And yaa, I hope you like the barbie I have kept besides. I am aware that teenagers dont play with barbies, but what i KNOW is that you love dolls! :-)
Loads of love and hugs,
Acchu
*P.S: This is a work of fiction
Today you turn 13. Welcome to the teenage years. Welcome to this new phase of your life where life becomes fun and challenging at the same time. What will unfold will be undoubtedly the best years of your life. You have been everything I ever wished for in a sister. Infact, you are the best sister ever! The last 12 years have been simply wonderful. You have been the only reason for me to look ahead for a new hope filled morning after a dull day.
You etched your image in my heart forever with that toothless smile you gave me the moment Amma kept you in my lap, the day you were born. When I close my eyes at night, it's that image which comes to my mind. I still laugh out loud when i remember the day when you as a toddler passed urine while sitting on my lap, and the school bus kept honking for me to board while Amma was busy pulling out a new pair of uniforms from the cupboard. I dont think you would recollect, but I was the one on whom you first tested the sharpness of your tiny teeth which had sprouted out of nowhere. It felt like a hundred syringes had just been inserted in my cheek. And you know how scared I am of syringes! The moment I was back from school I would head straight towards the bedroom, where Amma would be trying all the tricks in the book to get you to sleep, to catch that smile of yours on seeing me. And you would never disappoint. You were the angel sent to me by god. I relive all those moments every single day.
Everyday, I dream about you bringing the whole house down with your cries. There is not a single day which passes without your thought crossing my mind. I so wish you were around to see me join college. I so wish you were around to cheer me in all my achievements. I so wish you were around to bully me and pester me with all the requests only a sister has rights to. I so wish I could shower you with all kinds of gifts in this world. Sometimes I wish I could see how would look when you turned 13. For me, you will forever be that 1 year old cutie pie who managed to call me "Chetta" before God took you away. That word still echoes in my ears, every single day. For me you will always be the angel who still guides me from up above.
I miss you every second Ammu. Happy birthday to the best sister in this world! And yaa, I hope you like the barbie I have kept besides. I am aware that teenagers dont play with barbies, but what i KNOW is that you love dolls! :-)
Loads of love and hugs,
Acchu
*P.S: This is a work of fiction
Thursday, October 29, 2009
One night stand
Amar: Last night was amazing bro!
Arvind: Wow maccha! Tell me more about it. You guys had fun, eh? Did you do it?
Amar: No, no. We just hugged and chatted all night long. But was a crazy night. She's hot man. And yaa...we kissed! And the taste still lingers
Arvind: Amazing man!! Well done brother. Step by step. Dont hurry! The mantra to success.
Amar: I think i am falling in love with her
Arvind: Don't spoil your life man! Have fun, while the sun shines bright
Amar: She's an angel brother. She is ravishing. Last night was the best night ever.
Arvind: Lucky scoundrel you are. Show me a glimpse of this ravishing beauty.
Amar: I managed to click a snap of hers, despite her reservations. Here, don't you agree she is amazing?
*After looking at the snap, takes out his cell and dials a number*
Arvind: Where the hell where you last night? Group studies?? Group studies my foot! Don't you lie to your brother, Veena!!
*Pic courtesy: psivamp (deviantart)
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