Mid-Night

No matter the time, no matter the place, there will always be, a dream to chase.

We search and hunt, across the skies, sometimes taking time, by surprise.

Common Sense.....

common sense is...

To See. To Hear

To Look. To Understand.

To Observe. To Reflect.

Ek Chhoti Si Love Story !

Yes, a love story. To spice things up, I would go a step ahead and call it a 'passionate' love story. And most importantly, it's my story… an ever-continuing and undying tale of a relationship that had its' fair share of highs and lows. If you will, call it a Ross-and-Rachel story because it had the definitive we-were-on-a-break moments as well. And much as I would have wanted the entity on the other side of this romantic equation to be an earth- shatteringly beautiful damsel, it isn't. It couldn't. For that matter, it isn't even a look-once-puke-thrice-irretrievably-mirror-cracking kinda beauty. And the worst part is that I am not a misogynist and neither do I have any weird inclinations. In fact, I am as straight as the proverbial ramrod. By the bye, also spilling my cup of woes is the fact that I am in an age where crushes, infatuations and other such conjured-up hypothetical dalliances can play gilli-danda with your hormones. And this hormonal upsurge has caught up with me on quite a number of occasions but I would, for the sake of my general well-being and to avoid scandalizing any of my friends, spare the details. So, I have had those moments when the appearance of a certain someone made my heart skip a beat or when I fell in love with a pimpled face…when all I had wanted to do was to keep looking at that ethereally beautiful visage without caring to registering a thing…when the sprightly wiggle of a ponytail put me in a trance… when an hourglass figure made me lose touch with time…when the gentle shimmies of a delicate, supine body taking down notes in class set every conceivable bit of my existence aflutter….when indeed, I was jolted out of my reverie as I espied my object-of-attraction staring back at me catching me in flagrante and forcing me to jerk my head towards the teacher with a flourish desperately hoping that she had not noticed me but knowing pretty darn well that nothing could extenuate my deed as in that fraction of a second our eyes had met….when mornings were spent staring narcissistically into a mirror at a moronic weak-chinned face to see if everything was in order. But be that as it may, I could never pucker up enough courage to breach the threshold of this deeply ingrained fear. It wasn't like I did not try but even before I could hit my stride, the inner demons would pour scorn on my innocent desires by hollering: dude, it aint gonna happen… not in a million years… jejune flight of fancy mate… bin it.. bin it pronto!!!... So I stewed in my own lovelorn feelings and wrote longish diary posts bemoaning the might-have-beens.

So, girls are out of the picture. And I am straight. Who, then essays the role of my beloved in this saga? Okie then, without further ado, I declare that it is but an innocuous little sport. A game that is--- and I would be stating the obvious when I say this---my favorite, one that has provided me innumerable hours of unparalleled ecstasy, a game that I learnt from scratch heuristically like an autodidact, a game that goes by the name of Table Tennis. I love it and it loves me. Simple and peaceful, you think. Not so. As I practice, everything seems fine. My shots land in the right areas and life seems good. But come competition, it refuses to get lovey-dovey with me. I don't understand its hesitance in accepting me publicly. It just blows me off brusquely and all my skills shamelessly go for a walk ignoring my pathos-evoking pleas to come back. And then bereft of the company of my dukh-sukh ka companion, the moment the all important match begins, diffidence creeps in. Inevitably. I develop cold feet, my vision blurs and my right hand mysteriously gets paralyzed with my feet sticking intransigently to the ground. Errors start coming out of the woodwork and literally so. To compound my miseries, I fail to return even amateurish serves and my trademark shot eagerly French kisses the net as if it were Jolie's irresistible luscious lips. I lose. Again and again. Confidence crippling and debilitating defeats scar my memory. But oblivious to my pain and suffering, it doesn't proffer a reassuring hand. Fugging prude, I say. And so, we part ways. We go on a break. I ignore it for days on end. Impulsive urges to get back at the TT table pay a visit but I send them back whence they had come. And then, on one of these days, I give in. I take out my racquet from the case and the ticklish smell of glue assails my nose. I feel the rubber and a frisson of nervous energy bubbles through my body. The old flame starts roaring again and I bury the hatchet. The feeling of being in love comes screaming back to me. And then, another episode of our lives takes shape and we move on hoping to live happily ever after. Now, you can go puke in the nearest paper bag……

Congrats Media!!

An article from a media quotes...
"Six more IITs in the year 2008"
Under what grounds should I believe it? Why am I talking as if I have started believing media is just a bag of lies and deceives people to the full fledge. I think I have enough reason on ground of which I can state indisputably I have started behaving my uncharacteristic demeanour with the media.
I feel proud enough for my native place for educational developments it has made. Not in a city, not in a colony, my home is situated in a small village called Manpur Patwatoli in Gaya (Bihar), which has been year by year put on the map of the world by the Media. Congrats Media, you succeeded in your work, but I really feel sorry the way you made acquainted my land to the rest of the world. The place which had only counted number of tenth pass people (being not more than 10 or 12, that too very few by 1st div) has produced 47 IITians since 1997 and about 200 engineers from other state engg. colleges or central and deemed universities. No doubt, the figure is increasing exponentially day by day. Many people think that the village must be a giant, no; the village just contains about 1000 families of which only 700 of them have the capability to make their wards literate. Others lack economy even to provide their wards the education. Luckily, I belong to the first category.
Just 700 families and about 250 engineers in 10 yrs, the achievement is really appreciable and that is a reason why it has caught the attention of media. To add to the praise of the society, it's enough to state that 90% students are first generation learners. The very first time the media struck our localitiy was when I studied in 11th and was preparing for JEE inside of my room piled up with books and study materials relating JEE. I wonder, was I so much dedicated to my study for JEE, I do not recall any of developments and events occurring outside my four walled room in those precious two years? May be I was, so I cleared JEE. It’s really bewildering to note that not a single student studies at their home, the reason being the business, which keeps the students involved at work if HE is at home. Yes, the girls were and even today are given little attention towards their study! The condition of girls is pitiable having the same condition as that of boys a decade ago with only a few numbers to pass their tenth standards. Not studying at home, students do combined study at places which is completely a local place of the village and the "new home" is completely free of family members. What to be said in praise of these space providers for study, the owners of the place do not charge a single rupee but provide electricity and water availability too. Such places are worth visiting in the area with total number of such centers being more than 15 with no owner charging anything. Each center contains about 5 to 7 BOYS studying at a place and with full cooperation. That is what we use to call it a "Combined Study".
I am also a product of one these centers and like me my friends from that center has been to some good colleges if not to IITs. We have been thus replaced by our successors (juniors), to continue the trend of academic excellence and adding to the count of engineers to our much familiar, PATWATOLI. One notable thing, the seniors who qualify from these centers become an inspiration to these youngsters, thus seniors regularly visit these centers benefiting these aspirants to the full extent. Honestly speaking, I had not cleared JEE had these seniors not inspired me because I was an average student till my 10th and if any one indulged in me inspirations to compete for JEE, it were my seniors and obviously my respected teachers of Gaya. Thanks to them, all they have given me. Many people question at the result comparing the place with KOTA (So called The Heaven for IIT JEE), I really feel the person needs a slap on his face. Kota admits the creams of INDIA; Patwatoli admits the rest and turns it into an IITian. Yet, looking to the percentage of students appearing from these two places, Patwatoli outstands Kota. The creams of Gaya do not stay there; perhaps the fee of coaching for IIT JEE preparation is so meager. People today compare the fee structure to decide the better institutes to admit their wards to coaching centers; higher the fee, higher the priority to the institute. If supernatural thrust exists, I must admit one of its centers is in PATWATOLI. The teachers here are surely next to GOD who even teach those students who can't afford even the meager fee, taking no cost.
Finally, our seniors in 2000 felt the need of a GROUP to uplift the society in many respects, the most important being "Female Education". The group emerged as NAVPRAYAS (A Group of Innovative Thoughts). The members comprised only those persons of the locality who are studying outside in some colleges. Thus the popularity of Patwatoli came up with finally the popularity of NAVPRAYAS. To the delight of its members, parents today are giving equal attention to both girls and boys in study. These have been possible by everlasting and persevere efforts by NP members.
VIDYAJYOTI, a female study centre runs under NAVPRAYAS, the cost being totally funded by our alumni, has proved a boon to the society. The institution does not prepare them for any competitive exams rather looking an eye over future they are taught the importance of study and “education for all”. They are just provided with the primary knowledge like how to keep one’s home happy, how to lead her child to ensure a successful future. Perhaps media, yes, media just listens these as a boring old story and comes again straight to their point, so lets us take some interesting shots…

As stated, the first time media struck our society was when I studied class 11th. That year, 6 of our seniors had qualified IIT JEE. The media came up in our study centre (called HOME CENTRE) with those selected guys to take some shots. We were also caught in the video with one of my seniors teaching all of us. Finally when I watched it on the TV, some additional shots were seen which were taken in my absence, with our seniors operating the machines that weave clothes. In general, every person of the locality has the same profession of producing clothes. But the guardians never allow their children to operate these machines. It is at this point that I feel really sorry the way media insulted our parents. I wonder, even my seniors did not feel bad giving wrong information to the world, with letting them shoot what ever they said. They even spoke in their interviews that they used to study at night and work at home for the whole day, which was also a statement constituted by the media person. Really, what a crime is it!!!!
It was the first time I had encountered a media, which put in me a heinous feeling towards its coward act. Since then I started doubting each news the media put before the public. I remember, once I saw an article which had praised a Rickshaw puller who qualified IAS reading at night and riding his rickshaw in the day to earn and to buy the reference books. I bet the article was the same case as that of PATWATOLI. The man had qualified IAS but his livelihood must have been different. What do the media get deceiving and deluding public?
Anyway, time passed by, a day came when it was our chance to be the members of NAVPRAYAS, once we got selected in our respective competitions. I along with six more got selected in JEE. The media persons came running by us again to ask for some good shots. I asked them for the types of shots they wanted to take. The types are only decided by them if the person at the front is not "MY" type. They wanted to take the same shot having handloom as the background as if I read whole of two years driving these looms, with workers on leave.lolz...
They also asked for some shots with switches of all light providing gadgets off and studying under the light of candles, not even lamp.
We used to study under lamps, due to the lack of electricity which is a very usual phenomenon in a city like GAYA.
But I could no longer tolerate the drama created by the media and asked if they wanted to show the people any reality. They resisted very brilliantly with trying to convince my parents to allow them to take the take. But I was adamant. Calmly they walked away my home searching for rest six to get the shots. And they succeeded too!!..Once again they succeeded in taking the shots they wanted. Media, congrats once again, and congrats to you buddy, you are giving a nice shot on the biggest mode of communication, though a chilling LIE.

The Drunken Scholar and My Aims Of Transmutation

I cherish talking drunken people because every bit of their words comes out by heart. Quite a few days back I got the same opportunity while I was traveling a rickety train journey. True, every train journey has become a zonking one now but passenger trains have been continuously adding to our gyp. The journey was made so protracted by the train, we friends had no topic left to state at. Then, perhaps to break that null, destiny brought a drunken person at a “halt”.
With no place to sit at (that is one property passenger trains may be described by), a taciturn person sniffing the drunk en’s breath and with a feeling of consternation adjusted a sit with him because he was being continuously rebuffed by the people around him and for no reason other than that he was drunk. The drunken person cuffed his sit-partner, blessing him of a good future and jokingly a full Indian cricket family. ”Don’t get so petrified, I am not a hoggish like The British who will engulf whole of your sit”, the drunken spoke in a funny way.
A person sitting besides us had reached his destination, thus, the drunken person was satiated to get an-ample-amount-sit space. Then started his smart talk to us! The first thing he acquainted us, he was a senior to us, so, wanted to share some of his experiences and entrust us with some edifications. Firstly, all of my friends were too rustic with no one giving any attention to his valuable talks. But as soon as he started opening his closed chapters of life and his experiences, I wondered the person had logic in every sentence he put before us though he was well drunk. He was really good in academics in his time. But he was somewhere kicked off by the destiny.
He was a Bihari like us. One thing he continuously confessed, he was till date using the money of his father to move his boat of life. He even took out handsome amount of money outside his pocket to show us the money, his father had provided him(only an innocent can do so in such an insidious world and that too in such a skimpy train where you don’t have an escape) to attend the marriage ceremony of an IPS. The person showed his party-attending-clothes put in a stout, he would wear to attend. The people around me started mumbling, the guy sitting besides us was a frustrated one and can’t do anything in life as he is good in academics but still is not able to make something gladdening in life. Also the people around were burbling , he smokes and drinks without letting his father know about it.
But I could see in him a self-importance which perhaps has lead him to such a situation. If one’s pride and conceit has become a frustration today, yes, the man was frustrated. If he doesn’t drink and smoke in front of his father, I consider it a rudimentary INDIAN culture where still a “son” has valuable respect for his father in front of whom one can’t drink or smoke! The man did well in every field of life, be it sports, academics, but could not do something that could own him enough subsist. I consider in it somewhere a fault of the society rather than telling him a frustrated guy. He reached at the top of his cricketing form by his hegemonies but the next stage that could take him to a level where he could show his talent to the whole of the world was suppressed by the power of money. “Mr. Santosh”, please submit Rs...... and you will get an opportunity to play in the game else there are many others waiting for this opportunity. What say...? And perhaps, here our country lost an extra-ordinary player. At this point I must admit, “Santosh”, you did not loose anything, our country did a lot!!!
Being a polymaniac, he went Gujrat to get his training there, but the proff. under whom it was to be done, somewhat and somewhere lacked nationality. He felt insulted looking a guy from Bihar was outstanding his competitors from Gujrat. Mr. Santosh was thus for no fault insulted, may be the reason nothing other than being a “scholar”, and wanted to show his talent to others. Here too, Santosh behaved with his characteristic aplomb. And now he is again nowhere. No, he is somewhere! He is here putting a fire in me to devastate people insulting and misusing such a “beautiful mind”. People, just forget judicious use of resources that move your life. Be pragmatic, rather than sticking to the same old and out fashioned ideas belittling scholars, first save your race which has been endangered, otherwise you will remain the same……the same tenacious looser!
I don’t claim myself a clairvoyant but one thing I am sure of and can state indisputably, might be today his self-Importance and his pride has let him down, but Santosh, remember one thing “TOMMORROW IS YOURS”. Be the same as you are. You have ignited it in me to an extent, I bet this fire will engulf the world, and for sure, the persons mumbling at you today will mumble again, but for another reason……