How To Study Like a Ninja On The Night Before The Exam

Note: This is a very serious article for three types of people. First,those who don't know what they are doing on the night before the exam, secondly those who don't know what they are doing in college for the last one/two/three/four years and lastly those who don't know what they are doing in this world for the last twenty odd years. Exam is a pain in the ass and this article has been written keeping that fact in mind. People who sleep for more than four hours on the night before the exam should refrain from reading this article right now.

The biggest question that goes on in the mind of a normal student is when they should begin studying for the semester. On a broad basis, there are three kinds of students,

1. Who start studying for a semester thirty five days before the semester begins

2. Who start studying twenty seven nano seconds after the P.L (Preparatory Leave) begins

3. Who search for their notes on the night before the exams.

An OMG! Fact is that the probability that students of category 1 and 2 would be reading is this article is slightly more than the probability that Alia Bhat knows who is the President of Uganda is. Knowing this fact, let the students of category 3 be assured that they are exclusively getting these tips to ace (survive) the exams.

Tip 1: Never ever begin studying 12 hours before the exam

Studying for exams isn't a cake walk. If you have an exam at 10 AM on Thursday and if you plan to begin studying as early as 9 AM on Wednesday, your mind might explode with the stuffs you would come across in the textbooks that still smell fresh (probably completely unused). Hence never study so early. As a result of explosion, you might lose sanity and land up in a mental asylum with no WiFi. 10 PM is an optimum time to begin studying. 

(P.S: Ignore this tip if you already know an asylum where they provide free WiFi)

Tip 2: In the first hour of studying, locate notes, textbooks, phone charger etc

The plan is to have everything near you so that you don't need to get up every time. Make sure you have cigarettes in right numbers, a charging socket nearby to charge phone and similar such amenities. The next task is to locate notes and textbooks. There is a strong probability that you might find some of these stuffs in the places where you hide porn magazines and Pehli Suhaagraat DVDs. 

Tip 3: Make sure your boyfriend(s)/girlfriend(s) is (are) asleep before you face the book

Your boyfriend/girlfriend can be a serious threat to your sanity on the night before the exam. Make sure you don't need to address stuffs like "Babu you don't love me na?" at 2 in the morning. A little bit of mushy stuff is okay but the excess of it can create serious mental disturbance and hence should be avoided. Make sure your girlfriend/boyfriend sleeps early and if they are insomniacs, put your phone to airplane mode and till morning let them wonder that you have been eaten up by a giant gorilla that your neighbor was trying to tame in his secret animal laboratory. This might also give them a false hope that they are free from you.

Tip 4: Study the most repeated questions

This is the first instance in the semester where you're expected to think (a bit). Go through the previous exam papers, see what has been asked, what has been asked twice, what has been asked thrice, what you can skip, and what you can't. Now make a list questions that, if you study, you would somehow be able to drag your ass beyond the finish line.

Tip 5: Jo aata hai padho, jo nahi aata hai usey ratta maar lo

You are likely to come across stuffs like "the third root of alpha square equals baby doll mai sone di" types bizarre equations and derivation, and you would more likely not get what that piece of shit means. The secret is, no one gets it either, be it the professor, your class topper, your hostel watchman or the "over-qualified" guy who wrote the text book. The plan is to memorize them just like they are and forget them as soon as the exam gets over. 

Tip 6: Go for a walk/ Listen to a lot of music

A small walk to the nearest chaiwallah stall or listening to good tracks can be magical after a serious session of study. (Caution: please don't put the earphones on if you suspect that your bisexual girlfriend is a Justin Beiber fan and has secretly sent you Baby and 19 other tracks secretly along those 23123454 "I love you" audio messages. Unusual behavior has been noticed in a teen guy who listened to one of these songs accidentally and two years later, he ended up waxing his chest hair and started cross-dressing)

Tip 7: Don't stop swearing

Bring your frustration out, you need to. Mentally abuse your room partner for tempting you to have two pegs of Old Monk on those nights when you had to complete assignments, your girlfriend for romantically involving you in those long late night calls on the night before the project deadline, your professors for speaking in a language that closely resembles to that of the Democratic Republic of Congo all through the semester in an English-medium college, your parents for forcing you to join a college where the girls to boys ratio was around 0.87 females to 1000 males, which also caused you to bunk lectures out of disinterest. They deserve this, after all they are the reason why you are in this condition.

Tip 8: Don't forget to make false promises to yourself

Look into your eyes, faintly visible in the dirty mirror of your hostel bathroom, tell yourself that you would study hard next semester (which, even your the dog outside the hostel gate knows, is a lie), you would start attending college, you would become regular (in completing assignments and not in collecting porn DVDs). These false promises make you feel good before the exam. 

Tip 9: Take the exam like a ninja

Complete studying the important questions, make some chits, hide them in your socks, pockets or underwear or write the equation of drain to source voltage of a MOS transistor next to "I love Ria mam ki chuchchi" on the toilet door. Attempt all the questions even the ones you don't know. You're free to write Savita Bhabhi and the Bra Salesman's detailed story under the headline "How to increase the efficiency of an Amplitude modulated communication system". The guy who checks the papers doesn't have time to read what you have written and if he does, he might give you marks for a good orgasm that he got while reading the answer. The trick is to take chances. In a country, where everything happens out of an accident, be it the arrival of a new member to the family or a Chaiwallah becoming a Prime Minister, taking chances might help you in passing even the hardest of exams. If you're working hard, college is probably not your cup of tea, you need to work smart.

(The writer has personally experimented the above mentioned activities for three years in probably one of the shittiest college in India and has managed to get a 7+ pointer ever semester. Also the writer doesn't deny the fact that he has a bisexual girlfriend who loves Justin Beiber songs, in fact quite recently, he has been spotted near one of the hair waxing parlors in the city)

Life lessons from the Sixth Semester: Engineering Life means more than grades

As of the record, the last post on this blog was written on November 30th, 2013. So it is almost five months that the random thoughts in my mind  remained confined to my mind and this place which has been my trash can for the last three years has remained quite clean and empty and devoid of any human interactions whatsoever. Storing too much of crap is dangerous for the mind and hence, I am making an attempt to write a blog post again, which I ought to write.

From my classmates' point of view, Semester number six was straightaway a failure for me. From my professors' point of view, my life can be seen as a graph quite close to this

My performance has been a case study for the over concerned professors of my department who have been discussing this over lunch, when they were bored of the same food being packed by their wives and needed something new and spicy to discuss. Even at two instances, they straightaway said the same words to me "Pinaki tumhara performance neeche jaa raha hain" after I scored 79/150 in my Mid Semester examination. Even I spotted a peon giving me a dirty look for hanging around with a female classmate in the corridor because I was late for the first lecture. His face read "Sala Ladkibaaz".

But then for the professors, classmates, peons, life is restricted to grades, attendance, assignments and of course, the boring food that their wives make in the lunch. They fail to recognize the need for bigger things in life and seeing life as a platform to learn infinite things. Engineering life, in fact teaches more than you can even imagine. I have seen people who have screwed up four years of engineering but they learnt invaluable lessons in the four years of screw up and now are successful entrepreneurs, software developers, social media employees and the list goes on.

Anyways, after beginning this article with the point of view of thee different class of people witnessed in engineering colleges, about my performance, let me come back to what I did this semester and why I don't consider it as a failure. If you know me via twitter, you must be knowing how my itch to tweet and tweet more. However, twitter occupies a big portion of my life. It is more than an itch to tweet, now. In the past six months, I have made friends, friends, and more friends over twitter. Exchanged numbers with them, got added to Whatsapp groups, met twitter users off twitter, made a lot of conference calls, witnessed a lot of fights on timeline and so on. Six months down the line, twitter looks like an inescapable part of life. Although you might judge me as an addict (which I probably am) twitter has been a learning experience too. I have seen people who have achieved a lot in life and in contrast, people who have achieved nothing, have non existent real life and hence looked for an escape on twitter. I have met excellent writers who write witty one liners, Shayaris, make trends and are always on high on creative juices. Had I never joined twitter, I would have never met them, I would have never known what creativity is all about, what's happening in Delhi, Mumbai or Chennai. A fair gift life has provided me at the cost of grades.

The second high of this semester was the college festival. I joined the anchoring team, got a partner who is supposed to be a class topper and whom, I naturally assumed to be dedicated and hard working. But work on field was quite different. While we begun writing scripts, I just realized I am putting in almost all the effort and she, just being a fellow spectator in all this, apart from trying to dictate me at times. Those two days of festival seriously kept me pissed off due to her excuses and attitude towards work. There was a lot of load and no team work and here is where I learnt something. Being a topper in the class doesn't make you an excellent person in life.

Coming back to the point, I took it up as a challenge, delivered my portion of what Robin Sharma refers to as "great work" and finally made "our" performance on stage excellent. And the strange part is, my professors and classmates don't have the vision required to see taking up challenges as a parameter in assessing performance.

This semester was more than challenges, I had failed dates, developed a taste for poetry and shayari, became a fan of Ghulam Ali's voice, slept a lot, watched a lot of movies and most importantly "had fun". I don't eliminate the fact that there are students and in fact classmates who enjoyed more than me and yet remained punctual. But then, as a rule, one shouldn't regret anything that makes them smile.

I didn't write a single assignment in the entire semester because I was busy tweeting all the time. But then as an engineering student, nothing is impossible. Yes, we are the ones who spend the entire semester watching a lot of porn, seeking girls, doing "keeda" and much more stuffs, make life dance on our finger tips and yet manage to make something out of life. This is because for us, life is more than grades. It is about your dedication, your willingness to be slightly off route, fail and then come back and deliver a tight punch back to failures.

On that note, let me end this article. And here I am going back to my assignments. I have got submissions beginning on Monday and I have to write around 10 assignments for the two submissions that I have on Monday. The funny part is, I am the only student in the class who hasn't got them checked (yes, check karwana to choddo, aaj likhne baithunga). But then, you just can't give up. If you have spent the semester enjoying, you have to buck up and deliver in the last few days. 

Battle Won

The society compound of Devi Kripa society has always been a sacred space for the little 'chutkus' that reside in the society. In the concrete jungles that prevail today, getting space to play is a bliss, and when it comes to games that are being played in society compound, cricket cannot be missed. Playing cricket in the society compound is almost as ritualistic an activity on a daily basis as watching Chotta Bheem is. Another thing, whenever you ask a grown up male to remember his childhood, you would always find a wooden bat inhibiting a little bit of space in his nostalgia. In the years to come, Anand would also associate himself with a story, a story for his first cricket bat.

Those were the early months of 2012. During cricket practice in the evening, Anad had seen his seniors, the seventh grade students carrying those heavy bats. While returning from the practice one day, Anand stopped his cycle, being dazzled by what he saw. It was a cricket bat in the showcase of a local sports store. With the advent of globalization and the improvement of lifestyle, people can now find a living by selling only those cricket bats and footballs, even in a 'small city'. Anand could see the bat with 'MFR' written on it, which he mistakenly read as 'MRF'. "Sachin's bat!" he exclaimed. He parked his cycle in the vicinity of the shop, locked it with a 'pipe lock' and went inside the store. "It will cost you Rs. 350" the store owner smiled. Innocent Anand didn't exactly knew how much Rs. 350 was, but was pretty sure Rs. 350 was a good price to pay for the 'Sachin's bat'. He went back home, in excitement, kept the cycle key on table and immediately rushed to Maa. "Maa, I want Sachin's bat, it's just of Rs. 350, please Maa". You could see him literally jumping like a macaque while demanding the bat from his Maa. "Ask your Baba when he returns!" Maa exclaimed. 

Baba returned home at 6:30. Anand's face had a mix of excitement, fear and stubbornness. "Baba, I want Sachin's bat, I saw it at the sports store down the road". "Anand, when are your exams?" "Next month Baba, I have a month for it" "No Anand, wait for the exams to end first and then I'll buy you the bat". Anand didn't speak anything and went to his room. His parents didn't heed much attention to the issue. His silence could only be understood some hours later when he refused to have dinner and his parents had to succumb to his stubbornness. Next evening Baba went with Anand to buy the 'MFR' bat. Baba got Rs. 75 discount on the bat. The bat was a good buy at Rs. 275. The battle was won. For that ten year old child, getting that bat was almost equivalent to winning the world.

Unforgettable

This one would remain the only instance when a highly complacent human being (okay I am doubtful about the last two words) was made to switch his laptop on after the first innings ended, get the internet on and directly start blogger's interface without even a slight deviation to youpo.. sorry I mean Youtube. Yes, the occasion's special. This blog post is for the guy who scored a double hundred, the third Indian to do that, giving a sweet message to Sachin that he won't be missed after his thirty sixth attempt to retire from cricket. Hitting sixteen sixes, the highest in a One Day International innings and almost making Virendra Sehwag utter "Behenchod.. mera record gaya". Yes, he is none other than Sharma, Rohit Sharma (you know there is a need to clarify, there is a Sharma in Australian team too (Okay no more Ishant Sharma jokes (okay no more brackets))) . This was one of those innings that completely came off surprise. I mean, how can you expect the guy who was having about a strike rate of 80 initially to score two hundred bloody runs, even when he was not wearing Sir Ravindra Jadeja's jersey? . I could sense the amount of swearing that Rohit was addressed by the blue jersey fans when he was involved in that Virat Kohli run out. But then some overs later, Rohit sensed the urgency and delivered like a true gentlemen, joining the class of reliable batsmen of the likes of Rahul Dravid and Hashim Amla. Another landmark crossed, Rohit made 1000 runs this year.

(Note: This tweet tweeted by me while he was in his 70s made was lucky for him today, just like our assumptions of having a luckyy seat, lucky plate, lucky jersy, lucky Pamela Anderson wallpaper (sorry ignore the last one)) 

Bailey: Kyun India, geeli ho gayi? Rohit Sharma: Bitch please! :)
— P. (@ChutiyaEngineer) November 2, 2013

Of Dogs and Diwali

It was about six in the evening and I was out with mom to buy jewelry this evening, on the eve of Dhanteras. Just as I reached society's main gate, the scene of a few kids playing with a puppy came to my sight. The children were about to tie a string of those tiny red colored bomb to the puppy's tail and burst it. Seeing that I rushed to the children and stopped them from lighting the string that was already tied on the puppy's tail. The latter had no idea what was going on. I untied it and patted the puppy, shooed away the children and left the puppy at a considerable distance. Diwali is not only about praying to God seeking wealth, health and of course happiness. True happiness is found in those little things in life, like saving the puppy from a disaster. 

The new room partner

It all begun with Gaurav washing some Chana in the bathroom basin before soaking them overnight in water. His work was neat, quite neat this time. The next time I visited the bathroom I found just seventeen of them in the sink. The last time he was washing apples, he left three of them in the sink, unofficially redefining what carelessness is all about. Seventeen Chana seeds take much lesser a space than three apples and on a volumetric basis, Gaurav later calculated that he was seven percent more efficient than the previous time. I collected the seeds from the basin and a couple of them were left behind. The next day, we three rushed to college and later in the evening, it came to our notice that one of the seed, even without any knowledge whatsoever made Darwin and Hitler proud of the employment of theory of survival of the fittest. It sprouted and we could see a small white root coming out of it, telling us that our new room partner had arrived. This was the second time in my engineering span that our room had served as a temporary maternity center. The previous time it was during my first year during Diwali vacation, when a pigeon made a nest and gave birth to a baby. We treated the pigeon as our room partner, giving her the leftover to eat along with two bowls of water a day (Honest confession: we had mixed vodka in the bowl once). A month later, the pigeon ditched us, when her child had become able enough to fly. The family left our room and it was three of us again.

However, the new room partner, with its uncertain stay span, had arrived this time. Gaurav, being its unintentional father bought cotton, soaked the cotton in water (minus vodka) and carefully placed the seed on it. Two days later, the white root had changed to green. Gaurav proudly declared his illegitimate child as a 'plant'. A couple of days later we changed the cotton as the previous one started turning brown. The plant was grew good day by day and Gaurav seemed happy about it. I saw the expression on his face and wondered if my dad was proud in the same way when he saw me walking for the first time or not. Our room which hitherto lacked purpose had an atmosphere where the new room partner had all the attention. Things were going good till Friday happened. Gaurav, Ankit and I reached the station directly from college to catch our respective trains and reach our respective cities. We all forgot about our new room partner until Saturday afternoon when Gaurav called me and asked "Kutte, Gaandu ko kaha rakha tha tune?" (FYI the Chana plant was named Gaandu). "I think I placed on in the wash basin" I said. We both assumed that the water on the cotton won't dry out before Sunday and that Gaandu will be safe and sound.

However, destiny had something else awaiting. The three of us packed our bags on Sunday morning to leave for Surat when we got calls from our classmates informing us that a flood is being anticipated and warning us to not board the train to Surat. We were all worried for our classmates, for the beer bottles we had stored in the basement and for Gaandu of course. The next one week was not good for the city. The drainage water flowed backwards to the houses, rain and flood water made it impossible to go out and prices of things sky rocketed. Meanwhile, it was a fun time for three of us, we watched bond movies at ease, listened to songs and the part where our concern for our classmates, beer and Gaandu was present in our mind stared to shrink. Time flied that week and Surat was out of danger by next Sunday. The three of us boarded up trains scheduled for evening and reached the room by night. Gaurav reached first, at about 8. Ankit and I reached the room by 8:30. Gaurav opened the door with a face resembling close to that of Ishant Sharma when he, out of a habit concedes more than 10 runs in an over. We understood what that meant. Ankit and rushed to the bathroom and we found the cotton in which Gaandu was placed to be entirely dry. Gaandu had left us, with its body, which out of seven days of decaying turned brown. Maybe Gaandu was not fit enough to survive, maybe it wasn't any of our fault, maybe it was all a part of the bigger plan that Almighty had for us. However, it wasn't so easy. We were attached to Gaandu. We had lost a room partner. That night, Gaandu's absence could be felt. As we were supposed to be grown ups, we didn't cry, our hearts silently weeped and we went to sleep late that night. The worst part of attachment is that you never realize how attached you are till you have to part ways. However, our beer bottles which were stored in the basement were later found to be safe and that news somehow compensated for our sour mood. 

Thinking of Future

This is the third year of of my engineering course, namely electronics and communication engineering. Longer than the branch's name is the list of unemployed EC engineers who graduated from our university. Maybe some eighteen months later I would join them, adding to India's ever growing 'educated and unemployed' force. Yes the ones that can definitely tell you how unemployment tastes like with a tinge of humor and sarcasm added. Stuff like "Ghar pe khaane ko kuch nai hain" replaced by "Dude! Didn't have either VAT 69 or 69 in the last few days" are common signs of the crowd that I am talking about.  The thought gets scary as well as relaxing whenever it crosses my mind. Scary because most of my schoolmates would be out there in the corporate world, with beautiful girlfriends, ironed shirts, expensive trousers and moreover enough money to buy beer every weekend without the 'pocket money milne pe lauta dunga' debt, whereas I would still be there, in my shorts and t-shits, still recharging my internet with petty SIM card with 95 rupees me 1 GB schemes and then inserting it into a dongle, starting the internet and blogging these posts which don't even get an audience. On the other hand, that phase might let me explore the creative side of mine, making me go for art, colors, journalism, writing and everything that has been confined to a hobby or a mental masturbation scheme during my free time ever since God and the other early things conspired to trap this bastard's soul into an engineering student's body. 

Of Inquisitiveness And Concern

It's really hard to imagine engineering life without a proper dose of tea every now and then. The first rule of tea lovers cease to change, being no matter how unimportant a day might seem to be, it must begin with a cup of tea. I reached the nearest chai wallah that Sunday and on a disappointing note, I found it in a shut down condition. But my tea-deprived body made me walk a bit further on that same lane to a small rickety shop that had small sachets of pan masala hanging, a shelf containing cigarette packets and a kerosene fueled stove with a copper container placed on it containing boiling tea. The gentleman attending the rickety stall was much more older than my father. No matter what his actual age was, the conditions in which he was made to live conspired together to make him look older than seventy. I asked for a Gold Flake. He took a cigarette out of the packet and gave it to me. I noticed his fingers shaking while handing over the cigarette. I took a match stick and lighted the cigarette, exhaled the first puff and asked for a cup of tea.

(Photo credit: 40to40.com | http://www.4to40.com/photo_gallery/picture.asp?pid=102&photo=Tea_stall_on_footpath.jpg&keywords=Desi_Chai )

I asked him if I could assist him and pour the tea in a glass as an act of self-service. The looks on his face turned from that of surprise to anger. "No no! It is my shop, I don't need you help" he shouted at me. I wished to apologize but I prevented it just to not fuel any further conversation which appeared to be heated up at that moment. He handed me the glass of tea placed in a plate. I took the glass, the lighted up cigarette and and sat on an iron bench next to the stall. While smoking, I noticed his trembling hands, those hands that didn't really have even the slightest portion of flesh present in them, with the skin tracing the shape of his veins and bones. I looked at his torn white vest, the red towel that he placed on his shoulder and the old blue lungi that he was wearing. Puffs after puffs and sips after sips I wondered what could have happened in his life. It might have been, like in very common cases that his children grew up and parted off, leaving the old man on his own. Or it might be that he never had any children, and being trapped in the vicious cycle of poverty, he had to work at this age too just to earn a living. I wondered where he lives, if he could afford two square meals a day, how he managed living in the winters and other such stuffs. I had a thousand questions in my mind but the leave-me-on-my-own attitude on his face discouraged me to ask him anything. I finally completed the cigarette, the tea and walked away. I somehow realized that even I am just like the others, with a lot of questions in my mind but actually with a very little concern for the things that they face. I am an imperfect creature, with a flawed inner world and just like the other human beings, I look for flaws in the external world.  

Jobless

Nights actually begin after midnight. I still wonder why midnight is not called startnight yet. And midnight gets good if you're bound to use a road where traffic remains rampant all through the day! However, there is one major transition that takes place. Human beings, with their two wheeler and four wheeler vehicles and the pedestrians of course are replaced by a four-legged animal. These animals are the most over-hypersensitive animals I have ever met after human beings. Their ears remain erect all though the night to sense every fucking single activity that takes place though the night, be it an a pigeon having loose motions, walking tip-toed, looking for a place to shit, in the sense of urgency at midnight. The dogs would bark and scare the hell out of the pigeons just to ensure that everyone remains restless all through the night. Long before movies like Bhaag Milkha Bhaag were made, these dogs we authentic in promoting athleticism. Has your car ever passed though a road inhibited by dogs at midnight? You would have definitely witnessed their act of over-enthusiasm. No one, including dogs seem to understand why they chase the cars randomly every night, all through their life. I am yet to verify if Usain Bolt or for that matter any other athlete can match their speed, because the fact is Usain Bolt won't chase my car if he doesn't get money for it, dogs do. Every time I look at them, the guilt inside me of being highly jobless reduces a little bit. 

Tenu :*

Basically two types of friends exist. One, the sane ones who are too sane to fall into the category of friends and then second, mentally-the-sick-types who falsely convince you of the fact that they need care and then you get just too attached to leave those morons. She, for all reasons, falls into the second category. The worst part is, she never appreciates my efforts to be patient and suffer her. Pretense is her birth right and pointing fingers at me would continue to remain her favorite hobby. There are nights when I find myself awake at 2 am listening to her philosophies on the driving force of Universe and at other nights, I have to suffer her panda-like acts and then there are nights when she would act drunk, just to gain some extra attention, drama queen she is. Life gives me no other options other than listening to her crush stories, her two wheeler rides to the nearest river basin and her obsession with dosa. When I commit to myself that I would somehow bear her crappy talks, she gets even more irritating, accusing me of being a male-chauvinist-asshole and crossing the limits by saying Pink Floyd is shit! But then I just can't stop talking to her. She is the only one who perfectly knows when I need a kick on my ass and when I need a shoulder to lay my head on. She is the only one who can bear my crappy talks and lame jokes and download and listen to the songs that I Whatsapp her ( being well aware of the fact that she hates metal, it's good to take revenge by sending her songs of Def Leppard and Pink Floyd). She is that person who never hesitates to say "tera net chutiya hain" when the texts get time to deliver and "Tu tharki hain tujhe ek Girlfriend chahiye" when I spot her with her hot friends in her whatsapp DP and ask "Yaar wo tere baju waali blue me, uska naam kya hain?".  She has been my support when I was down and she has always been the first person I share my blog posts with. This one's for you. Yaar tenu tu ladki bohot irritating hain par tere bina nai chalta.

P.S: Nothing shall change. I shall continue to find you irritating!

Like a Complacent Engineer

Have you ever seen where the Devil resides? Or let me ask you a better question, have you ever diagnosed an engineering professor's mind? Yes now you know the answer and you already feel like I am exaggerating but no, the truth is, professors are a little more merciful than the guy who came up with the entire idea of killing people in gas chambers. No wonder the professors feel like over-burdening the helpless students with assignments that take about seven million years and some sixty five thousand more years to complete and they literally take a whip and order us to complete the assignments in a semester time. If you were convinced right in the first time that I wasn't exaggerating then I succeeded in manipulating you. Actually, we engineers are the most complacent beings to ever exist on Earth, and in fact even my turtle has approved me that he can't really match my level of complacency (I asked him Shelly, are you more complacent than me? He didn't give a fuck and I assumed his answer to be a no). I get about 8-10 assignments in one subject per subject which makes it about fifty assignments per semester or about ten assignments per month or like one assignments in three days. But, being a pro in procrastination, I, or as a matter of fact all other engineers, try delaying the writing process until we come down to a state when fifteen days are remaining and twenty five odd assignments are left to be written. Yet, the belief that we will save our ass from fire, or the dire need to save it gives us the fire from inside to complete this almost impossible task. Yes, our lives are just like that, with blogging and twitter to more common things like movie, music, love, dating and Whatapping taking place in the initial months followed by mid semesters, followed by normal routine and then the ultra pressure of semester work submission and semester-end exams. We enjoy life like hell and then curse ourselves for wasting time and then promise ourselves "Agle semester me pehle se regular ho jaunga". But being regular is something that cannot happen in these four years, engineering makes us repeat the mistakes seven times, and then they don't remain mistakes, they become a habit, a habit to screw up and accepting complacency as a way of living. 

A silly rhyme from the Insomniac

There's nothing to distract you,
your attention is mine,
the attention which I long for,
comes to me under the moonshine,
let the moments pass by,
making me feel more alive,
'cause it won't be the same,
once the dawn breaks,
once it's past five.

I feel high by your company,
you tend to know magic spells,
you tend to lighten the world up,
in which this silly bastard dwells,
So let let me dance holding your hand,
and know how it feels to be alive,
'cause it won't be the same,
once the dawn breaks,
once it's past five.

I am yet to discover,
the color of your brush,
'cause I can't just ask these things,
struck in the day's rush,
let the silly talks be done,
all through the night,
there's nothing to skive,
'cause it won't be the same,
once the dawn breaks,
once it's past five.

I can make thousand reasons,
and some more,
to let you not sleep,
and crave for the adore,
let us be ourselves,
let us feel a li'l more alive,
let us talk till the dawn breaks,
let us talk till it's past five.

(P.S: I scribbled the rhyme while sitting near the train door this morning, it basically lacks logic, vocabulary and of course poetry)

Little Moments

You deserve happiness every now and then. Be it staring deep into the eyes of your beloved and wishing the moment exists for a lifetime or holding her hand, intertwining those fingers and feeling the soft touch  of her palm against the palm of yours made brutally rough by the solder gun and the ends of single core connecting wires in your PCB circuit. Happiness can even be found in a cup of coffee at the end of writing the assignment at 2 am, the night before the deadline, reassuring yourself that you have saved your lazy ass from fire one more time, the coffee serves as a reward to your soul, trapped in an engineering student's body. Happiness may also be found in those late night walks with your room partner at perhaps 11 pm, with the sound of  horns of passing-by cars reducing every moment. True bliss surrounds you with the orange colored street light imitating the yellow one which emanates from the palm of lord Vishnu, you feel blessed by the urban God, by the urban streetlights. Happiness also remains hidden in the window seat of a bus going past the landmarks on a night which seems to completely accept you. The window opens up your mind, you feel like a temporary nomad with the road and night being your only companions who share the feeling of mutual love. Happiness is also present on the Sachin-Magdalla highway bridge on the Tapi river, the rays of setting sun, the cool wind striking against your face, and the mild movement of bridge, all when felt with eyes closed, transform the place into heaven. Even that "someone special", whom you have not dated yet, agreeing to remain awake for twenty more minutes just to chat with you has a euphoria hidden in it, which highly goes unnoticed, maybe because we're much more obsessed with achieving bigger things in life, buying a bungalow, earning in six figures, riding a car with a logo that raises your status and working endlessly to earn money in a way that leaves you with no time to enjoy life. Life is not about the bigger achievements, it is about these small moments of happiness because it is during these moments that life really takes place, if you miss these, you miss the opportunity to live another moment.  

The long wait

It's 8 am already but Rajesh is in no hurry to wake up today, neither does her mother feels the urge. Rajesh decided to skip school today, owing partially to the inevitable muscular pain resulting from last evening's hard work and partially due to the sorrow that is hidden in one corner of his heart. Yes, he cried last evening and he would remain on the verge of crying every now and then all through the day. His mother senses his bad mood and decides not to force him to study today. She wakes him up at 8:30 am just when the water in the German silver vessel begins to boil. Half sleepy, Rajesh brushes his teeth and takes a bath. Even his favorite breakfast, poha is not enough to make his mood any better.

Rajesh hurries to the society compound. The Pandal is still present, and so are Deepu, Parth, Dhruv and Shubham. The feeling of grief cuts across the society walls, all through Maharashtra and other parts of Western India. They share a helpless look, their Bappa is gone, their job is gone. A month earlier, they were assigned the task to collect chanda all through the society. They roamed here and there with the tiny yellow receipts, asking Rs 100 more this time telling "Aunty pyaaz bhi mehengi hain, mooriyon ke daam bhi badh gaye hain" . Rajesh never paid attention to the mathematics lessons his 'tuition aunty' used to teach him, but he doesn't make a single mistake while counting the notes before handling the entire bundle to Kamath uncle. After all, its not for a tuition test, it's for a greater reason, it's for his favorite God, it's for his Bappa.

Three weeks before, you could see Rajesh and his bunch of friends in that narrow lane on one corner of the city, bargaining furiously with the Idol-maker to reduce the cost of Ganpati they have selected to meet their budget. The considerate Idol maker is not money minded, its his eleventh meeting for the day and he has already made a loss of five thousand rupees in dealing with the children. However, the joy he gets to see on their face when the deal is made and knowing that he is partially responsible for it, is nevertheless priceless. He finally reaches a consensus with the children and he gets to see the joy once again. Once the gang has left, he looks up towards the heaven and smiles, firmly believing Bappa is looking at him and has already showered his blessings upon him. He returns to the task of finishing the idols and making them ready for the grand festival.

Over the series of next few days, you could see these chaps busy calling the flower supplier, the Pandal-maker, the priest and completing other such jobs. It's already been a week since they last attended the accounts class, dedicating their entire time to the preparation for the festival, ensuring no flaw remains. Financially, this doesn't get a very easy affair either. They have to plan and plan again to make ends meet. The price of every single commodity has gone up except the figure of the chanda or donation they get. Deepu has already visited the society's president's house for the fourth time this morning to get some extra funds. Their unbreakable faith on Bappa doesn't let them give up, no matter how many problems come up, they always manage to tide through uncertainties. The true sense of management can be learnt in these small pockets of the country where these young fellows, out of their devotion, always end up managing the finance, no matter how problematic the situation tends to become.

Even personally, it's not easy. Over the past few days, Rajesh has witnessed feeding all his pocket money as petrol to his black Scooty with white dots. His girl friend, Vaishali feels he is losing interest in her. Rajesh decides to deal with her later, feeling he has got much more important issues like ensuring that the lighting is done properly first. Last evening, Rajesh was scolded by his parents for not attending the classes. He has a just reason, not to attend the classes but his parents just don't seem to understand, he listens to all that his parents have got to lecture him with his head bowed. However, he keeps a track of the time, how can he miss the general meeting at 9 pm? After all the group is about to conclude all the preparation for the festival. Bappa's festival  is to begin tomorrow.

The grand day arrive and the Pandal's ready. Shubham is busy calling the priest, one hour before the destined 'muhurta'. The priest compains of the grand traffic that can be witnessed on the street of the city. Nevertheless, due to Bappa's grace, he reaches on time. The 'shubh muhurta' arrives and the carnival begins. Over the next five days, you can see Dhruv close to the dvd player and addressing the lighting issues, Shubham carrying the bowls of prashad every evening to the society homes and Rajesh sitting next to Bappa's idol and handing over the prashad to the people who have come to visit. They never realize when those five long days ended.

Last morning. Rajesh ensured that the couple of trucks they booked for the immersion ritual have arrived beforehand. Packets of pink colored powder of Gulaal are ready to paint the procession in pink. The drums are ready and so are the saffron headbands. The boys have made all the required arrangements for the ritual and the grand afternoon arrives. The boys lift the idol to the truck and the procession begins. You could spot Rajesh wearing the saffron headband, beating the drum and shouting slogans of 'Ganpati Bappa Morya'. Amid traffic, the procession somehow reaches the 'ghaat' where the ritual is destined to take place. The idol has been lifted off the truck and the immersion is about to begin. Rajesh touches Bappa's feet with moist eyes asking Ganpati to come back next year. Minutes later, the idol has been immersed in the stream of flowing water and the boys are all wet. The trucks begins to return to the society. However, the atmosphere in the truck is different from what it was a couple of hours earlier. You can sense the gloom on their pink colored faces replacing the cheerful faces. The Idol is missing too. The Sun is setting and Rajesh is busy staring the setting sun, avoiding any eye contact. The pink color Gulaal and the reddish shade of the sun combine to form a unique color on his face, a color that can only be found in India. A shade, among many others that uniquely define India. This color has a shade of immense devotion, a shade of the universal feeling of love, a shade that defines the relation between God and his devotee and a faith that keeps on telling the young boy that Bappa will come back, no matter if the wait is a year long.  

Farts

There are people who exist, there are people who are gifted with brain and intellect, there are people who recognize what freedom really is and then there are people who don't think much before farting. Perhaps, God's blessings were showered in an increasing order in that manner. And then there are two kinds of people in these universe. One, who think farting is a fundamental human right and then the other, who are intellectually challenged. Farting is something that sophisticated people try to despise, but then they too have to agree that farting is inevitable. And those who think farting is embarrassing are basically called morons by their stomach. I mean, if you think more about what others would think than what your stomach will go through, you have to learn an art, the art of living. 

Acceptance

Lunatic,
dark humored,
coarse,
clumsy,

bad tempered,

potty mouthed,

incomprehensive,

unacceptable,
intolerable,
highly acerbic,

the psychopath walks on his own,

your acceptance gets too expensive. 

Our Conversations..

How I wish,

you remained awake,

four and a half minutes more,

every single night;

had those silly chats,

continued for,

a few more moments,

I could have ended up,

knowing you more.

How I check,

your 'last seen at',

every single time,

I get free,

just to make,

another small conversation;

those little conversations,

mean more to me,

than you would ever know.

How I stare aimlessly,

at your display picture,

waiting for the phone,

to beep and vibrate;

only if you knew,

how closely I look at,

those small details,

a certified stalker,
you tend to make me.

How I tend to think,

harder and harder,

when it takes,

one second,

and forty five more microseconds,

for your status to change from,

online to typing;

I wonder who you're busy chatting with,

yes one little silly bastard I am.

How I wish,

those emojis,

could have conveyed,

a little more emotions,

I could have known,

what you think,

when I text you, 

thirty three times,

a small single day.

How I wish,

it was your voice,

it was your laughter,

instead of the simple lol,

and uncountable hahaha,

I could have actually been,

a little more proud,

of the humor,

that I possess.

My thoughts,

as mindless as,

my talks,

tend to resonate,

at one corner,

of my head,

I think,

I smile,

I What's App you,

and smile a little more.

P.S: I begun writing this initially as What's App texts to someone, last night. As promised, I ended up making a poem out of it.  

Depth Of The Ocean

My joblessness reaches new heights every fucking single day. During one of such jobless stretch, I begun pondering what my life could have been if there wasn't any TV involved. I remember those DD shows on that black and white TV when I was a child, those nostalgic cricket matches, lame movies like 'Kaho Na Pyaar Hain' and awesome television shows like Sa Re Ga Ma Pa and Close Up Antakshari. Eventually, music grabbed a lot of attention. I remember listening to those morning shows on MTV while getting ready and those evenings spent with Nikhil Chinappa hosting an exciting show when he would call users and play songs of their choice. I grew up watching Euphoria and my charismatic God Sri Sri Palash Sen sing Maaeri and Rimi Sen, gorgeous as ever in that music video. I remember Bombay Vikings' "Wo Chali Wo chali" or Silk Route's 'dooba dooba rehta hoon main". I remember every single song they played. I remember them better than the name of my schoolmates or what was taught in the school in 6th or 7th standard. 

One of such songs which remained in my head was "arey ruk jaa re bandeh" from Black Friday. That almost-an-adolescent guy could never get over with those meaningful lines "Kise kaafir kahega, kise kayar kahega, teri kab tak chalegi ho". I remembered it of course for the bullying nature of my classmates at that time (or in better words, throughout my school life). Later both the filmmaker and the music composers became my favorites, capturing my vision of pan-Indian perfection. Two years later, Vatsal, a friend of mine, came up with this song in one of our guitar class's session. And I could sing those lines again on the top of the voice. Vatsal brought Indian Ocean to my attention telling that the guitarist looks real down-to-earth but has his own style of playing, he was of course, referring to none other than Sushmit Sen. In the next class, I bought a Rs. 10 CD-ROM and gave it to him and a week later, I had a couple of Indian Ocean's songs. One was "Bandeh" and the other one was "Kandisa".

I kept listening to them all day long in the music player with the guitar in my hand, trying to figure out the progression of those songs, those intricately done guitar leads and those perfectly complementing bass and percussion. I listened to those songs, every single day, perhaps more than thousand times till now and I memorized those songs. The music was different. It had something unique. It didn't merely go for heavy drums. It had folk, it had rock, it had those neatly done guitar leads, it had a soul in it, the Indian soul. In the due course of time, artists like Shafaqt Amanat Ali (and his band Fuzon) Jal, Raeth and uncountable others became my favorites and the frequency of listening to those two songs decreased day by day and then that love for Indian Ocean's music died a slow death. (I don't even remember where that CD is currently, lying along with hundreds of other CDs.  

Lost, Found and Lost Again:

Amir Khan's hard work never goes unnoticed. It's his way of working and doing thing uniquely that always catches my attention. I had become his fan after gigs like Rang De Basanti and Taare Zameen Par and then his production making "Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na". This time the movie of his production house had the village life involved. Yes, the movie was "Peepli Live". I never really ended up watching the movie, but the movie made me rediscover my lost love, Indian Ocean. The song was "Des mera" and the first time I listened to it, I instantly got nostalgic about the song arrangement, the way the rhythm was done, the way folk was involved, apart from those beautiful lines "Des mera rangrez hain baabu, ghaat ghaat yaha dikhta jaadoo". I knew where it was coming from. I instantly called Vatsal to tell him about this song and a couple of hours later, we were revisiting Indian Ocean together, we were trying to play the leads of Bandeh again, we were screaming our lungs out while singing Kandisa. Once Peepli Live fever was over, we forgot the song again.

Lost, Found, Lost Again and Found Again:

Once again, TV was the catalyst in our reunion. This time, it was MTV, it was MTV Unplugged. This was post-Asheem-Chakravarty-death-era. There was this one young guy with the percussion section along with Amit Kilam and another guy in kurta singing along with Rahul. I listened to them, I watched the repeat again and then I youtubed those songs. I remember every bit of that show. The way Rahul was dressed up, the way Sushmit played it, the unorthodox music, everything! One fine morning, I watched the repeat telecast and then hurried up to catch a train. Bored, I Googled about Indian Ocean, about what it is, about Asheem, Sushmit, Rahul, Amit. I visited their website and came to know about their real depths. About their professionalism, about their passion for music, about Susmit meeting Asheem for the first time in a concert, about their jam sessions, about Sushmit's dad insisting the name Indian Ocean, about their first recording, about Rahul Ram joining the band after his return to India, about their rise to success and their journey so far and of course about Asheem's unfortunate demise. Their songs became a part and parcel of my daily life. I am yet to watch "Leaving Home", their biopic. 

About the band:

The history of the band is quite appealing (Considering the length of the article, I considered not giving a lot of insight. It can be read here in a detailed manner). The line-up of the band that witnessed their rise to fame consisted Rahul Ram on bass guitar and vocals, Asheem Chakravathy on percussion and vocals, Amit Kilam on drums and other instruments, and Sushmit Sen on guitar. Asheem died on Dec. 2009 due to a cardiac arrest. His connoisseurship of rhythm shall always be missed. His replacements have been Tuheen Sen on percussion and Himanshu Joshi on vocals and other instruments (I apparently saw him supporting with the percussion part during their MTV unplugged performance).

With and Without Susmit:

Sushmit has been a self taught musician. Quoting the band's original website, he "has virtually invented a new style of playing the guitar – an uncannily Indian sound where purity of scale reigns, strong melodic lines woven around the drone of open strings." His simplistic looks and the depths of his playing moved him to the position of God in my eyes. He plays a special series of guitar named after him: The SS Series. On June 12,2013, I came across this status update on their official Facebook page

Very Important Update: Susmit Sen is leaving Indian Ocean after 23 years of a long and fruitful association. Susmit and Asheem co-founded the band way back in 1990. Susmit will focus more on his solo career with his new band Susmit Sen Chronicles. Nikhil Rao is our new guitar player! We wish Susmit all the best in his bold new step, and we are going to continue to have lots of fun making new music and playing all over the world!

This was indeed shocking,. However, my best wishes shall stay with both Susmit  Sen Chronicles and Indian Ocean.

The Journey ahead:

Indian Ocean remains a firm believer of the philosophy that the show must go on. They are actively busy touring with their new line-up. However, what I truly doubt is whether it would remain the same without the backbones of the band. I don't even know if my soul would dance madly to their tunes revolving highly around Susmit and Asheem's playing. However, the way Susmit, Asheem, Rahul and Amit have traveled this successful journey, their stories shall be remembered for ages to come. :) 

Happy Birthday Dada

I am not the best person to write an article about a cricketer. Although cricket is our 'national religion' and we are supposed to be theists in this particular case, I lack the knowledge necessary to  write a biographical article about a cricketer. However, I have always adored this particular cricketer and today on 8th July (his birthday) I can't have a better way of wishing him than writing about him, although the faint probability that he would ever come across this particular article remains less than the probability that I would attend all the lectures without dozing off in the afternoon slots. This one's for you, my hero. 

"Hurry up! Complete your dinner" Baba exclaimed, clearly excited as he didn't wanted to miss this one. As soon I completed eating and washed my hands, he took me and hurried to the house of some XYZ Patel who, at that time was privileged enough to have a color TV at home. This dates back to my childhood, when I was probably 3 or 4 years old. This match, was one between Pakistan and India I guess, which clearly justifies Baba's excitement. Day-Night ODIs were a rage those days . I don't know where the match was played, neither do I know who won it but I clearly remember a tiny piece of conversation between Baba and Patel Uncle. "Dekho aaj Tendulkar aur Dada khel rahe hai. India chase kar legi! " Patel uncle exclaimed. In reaction to that, I, sitting next to Baba asked "Baba, Dada is in Calcutta right? How is he playing in the TV?". For me, Dada was my cousin brother living in Kolkata. I didn't have any idea about the other Dada. Both the gentlemen bursted out in laughter. Yes, childish inquisitiveness gets embarrassing at times. I never got the answer from Baba that day, however, I couldn't forget that little piece of conversation between the two of us. 

The coming years saw some significant developments. Color TV had finally become a necessity for the middle class. Baba bought a 21-inch Sony TV, finally replacing the old black and white TV. This was probably when I was 5. Life was good with color TV now. The most significant change for me was that Baba stopped telling me to hurry up with dinner on the days of Day-Night matches. I could eat on the dining table and could the the men in blue in action. Two faces became familiar to me who used to walk down in the beginning of the blue team's batting innings. One had a taller stature than the other, with a ferocious look in his eyes. He was called the 'Bengal Tiger'. I loved those matches in which both of these guys played well and it was natural for me to get upset if they didn't. ICC knockOut championship, 2000 was a memorable series which I remember. Although I was just 7, I clearly felt dejected with the blue team losing the finals to the black team, although that guy with a taller stature than the other, whom Baba referred to as Dada played well.

In the successive years, my sense of understanding improved. So did my bonding with TV, cricket and men in blue. I now knew that guy's name. Sourav Chandidas Ganguly, THE captain of Indian cricket team. By now, S.C. Ganguly had become my first sporting hero. Under his captaincy, team India witnessed a new

dawn. He mentored numerous players to get the best out of them. Who can forget those memorable moments of Natwest Series 2002 when Dada out of excitement removed his shirt to celebrate the victory of the men in blue in the tournament. Success followed the captain in the coming year with India reaching the finals of 2003 ICC World Cup. Dada won a million hearts due to his frank behavior, ferocious attitude and vision.

However, just like a lot other sporting heroes, Dada too was surrounded in controversies numerous times. The incidents like his 'chickening out' of Nagpur test, losing a match to Bangladesh, the famous controversy with Greg Chapel and later with Kolkata Knight Riders' coach John Buchanan, his exit from the Indian cricket team never kept him away from media. Dada continues to remain the favorite child of controversy.

His exit from the Indian side was heart breaking for me. I always adored him as a hero and no one can really see their hero failing in life. However, the Bengal tiger wasn't done with it. I remember one cold drink's ad of his, when he was sidelined  from the team in which he uttered those unforgettable words "Bhoole toh nahi?'' He smiled in the ad but the pain was visible, a pain that Dada and his devotees shared mutually. It was difficult to see the Fab 5 incomplete. However, just like a true sporting hero, he made a comeback in 2007. And the comeback wasn't a lukewarm one. It was red hot, and an appropriate reply with his bat to silence all  his critics. He was fitter than ever and the average after his comeback remained better than his career average.

This fantastic journey of an awesome cricketer finally came to an end on 6th November, 2008. He played his last test against Australia. Moist eyes of mine bid adieu to someone who was more than a cricketer for me. He was my idol, a hero who never bowed against bullies, had a backbone strong enough to stand against the odds. His attitude towards life made him stand apart as the best captain of the Indian cricket team. Although I won't really like to compare, this photo tells the story:

5 Random Songs From Bollywood That Lift Your Spirit

1. O Saiyaan  (Agneepath)

Music: Ajay-Atul
Lyrics: Amitabh Bhattacharya
Singer: Roop Kumar Rathod

This song witnesses a soulful combination of lyrics and music. Ajay-Atul have worked hard with the music to produce something that forces you to close your eyes and experience the beauty every time you listen to this song. Amitabh Bhattacharya brilliantly conveys the feelings of a girl who finally gets the person whom she had fallen for. When it comes to singing, Roop Kumar Rathod's golden voice brings life to the music. Although this song conveys feminine feelings, the listeners, irrespective of their sex, can relate to the feelings involved.   

2.  Tere Bin (Delhi Heights) 

Singer and songwriter: Rabbi Shergill


My memories with Rabbi date back to the time when I first heard 'Bulla' and fell in love with it's catchy music. And my love for his songs have never experienced any change. This song is as romantic as it gets. The song has been written in Punjabi but the lyrics can be understood quite easily, which expresses the feelings of a person missing his beloved. The song has been picturised on Jimmy Shergill who appears to be broken down after breaking up with his girlfriend (I have never seen the movie actually!). People who have recently broken up are vulnerable to tears after listening to this song.

3.  Iktara (Wake Up Sid)

Music: Amit Trivedi
Lyrics: Amitabh Bhattacharya
Singers: Amitabh Bhattacharya, Kavita Seth

Iktara is the perfect song to start the day with. The music, by guest composer Amit Trivedi is a fusion of Sufi with a beautiful mixture of guitar strumming and drums. This song compels you to nod to the music and makes attempt to distinguish it from the others. Amitabh Bhattacharya did a  fantastic work with the lyrics and with singing the refrain 'goonja sa hai koi iktara'. Kavita Seth with her bold and clear voice takes the song to a different level adding the beauty of Sufism. I love the reprise version of it as well, sung by Tochi Raina.

4. Tumse Yuh Milenge (Ankahee)

Music: Pritam
Lyrics: Subrat Sinha
Singer: Kunal Ganjawala

This song sets up the mood of the movie quite beautifully. The song has been picturised on the love triangle of Aftab, Esha and Amisha in the movie. The lyrics again is done beautifully and makes the song romantic. Pritam has done excellent job in composing this ballad, adding all the romance to the song he could. However the real credit goes to Kunal Ganjawala's singing. His loud and clear voice perfectly matches the song requirement and he sing's it quite effortlessly. 

5. Alvida (Life In A... Metro) 

Music: Pritam
Lyrics: Syed Quadri
Singer: Kay Kay

Alvida is hard rock song composed by Pritam. The singer bids adieu to his beloved. This song is all about moving on, especially the case when one moves on and the other still remains attached. Kay Kay has sung the song well, especially doing well with the high notes and the portions which required a clear throw. The sounds of distortion guitar and drums elevates the intensity of this song and a listener can actually feel the pain involved. The reprise version, sung by James gets ever more intense.