Some drink to forget, may be i suffer a complete memory loss after that

29 July,2009

Bhopal

“Aapko pehle bhi kahi dekha hai!” Sounds like heaven when spoken by a girl. But in my case these words were uttered by a professor, alleging me of a crime, I have never commited although I have been under my mom’s suspicion for days uncountable. The incident took place in my class, and ended up with a teetotaler winning a boozer's title

The mechanical branch is a crash of boys ( yes we are comparable to rhinoceroses) so teachers don’t think twice before drilling a comment. However, the presence of 2 girls (rather only 1, since the other one is scarcely seen) seems to have alleviated the frequency and the grossness of the comments we get to hear. Time and again some student becomes a victim of the teacher’s mirth. Today it was my turn (also). The class commenced at 9:30 sharply, as we had pissed off the Mathematics faculty at her wits end, a thing we have been doing in every mathematics class since first yr. The professor for next class was standing right outside the class. Faculties, wise enough, do this as a pre-emptive measure against our habitual tendency of fleeing away in case of a delay in prof’s arrival. It’s a subconscious urge… we can’t help it

The entire 50 min class was ‘peaceful’ except for a few blips of akash being caught writing his lab record while the class was on and smearing gaurav with an allegation of watching on mobile, which he escaped cleverly. To quench the reader's inquisitiveness, I must mention that he was doing something in his mobile (but nothing offensive), but people around him were peeking into it and chuckling. Such distractions are obviously intolerable for any faculty, and so was for him. However we haven't named Gaurav as komolika without a reason. He tricked the Prof into believing that he was doing no such thing.

But these light moments were perhaps inadequate for the class so the climax was shot on me.

The prof was inviting roll calls, calling each student by their scholar number. As soon as he arrived at my roll no. he paused… swung his head…and asked “Where do you live??”

I replied it as I, in fact anyone, would do and he quipped even before I could complete my sentence with proper puntuation:

“Ya I saw you at the Wine shop…”

The entire class burst out laughing.

My heart started thumping on my chest as I was shocked and confused.

He continued, "Ya I saw you at the liquor shop in Nehru Nagar, What were you doing there?"

"Well.. umm... I live nearby... so I pass in front of the shop quite often"

"To buy?"

"No sir, I don't drink"

"Don't lie... Your face speaks that you do"

"Sorry sir, that's not true" And then I mumbled under my breath,"What were you doing there by the way"

"I hope to not see you near that shop again"

"Yes sir" I replied with an obvious question in mind that 'Sir, will you drop by daily to keep an eye on me?'

Thanks to my mech bro’s who took my side and convinced him that I don't drink. That too of course after a few remarks that nearly confirmed the professor's doubt…

“Ha sir bahut bada darua hai!!!”

“Sir, roz jaata hai, aaj bhi wahi milega.”

“Sir, aapko free mein pilayega, bol ke to dekhiye!!!”

As a consequence of the incident, now I am addressed as “SHARABI” and “DARUA”. Ironically I don't drink...!!! There is another possibility; they say some people drink to forget. Maybe I suffer a complete memory loss, that's why I can't even recall that I drank.

My experiments in Lab

I latched open the door and stepped outside my cozy, warm laboratory to the porch, and stood there with eyes closed for a while. The floor was slippery with rainwater that stormed throughout the evening. The sweet cool breeze was coaxing my face like a beautiful coquette. The silence was tranquilising, but the climbing howls of dogs, starving and shivering in the light drizzle, at regular intervals kept me assured that I haven’t turned deaf. Drizzling nights are unusual; they confine people inside there houses and street appears to be a backdrop of some stereotype horror flick. I was staring lights from streetlights faraway turning foggy and twinkling like stars. The sky was cuddled inside a blanket of clouds, showering spine chilling sprinkles, stretching from the east horizon to the far west.
The road, actually a blatant abuse on other roads if I call this one, facing my veranda, where I was standing is a busy road otherwise, but tonight it was squealing the cry of silence, and not a single car rutted the road after 10.
I returned back to my laboratory and examined the solution that I had left for heating. The heating task was nearing it’s finish as it was supposed to be heated to a temperature below it’s boiling point.
For the reader’s information, I have earlier added chemically inert disaccharide carbohydrates in stoichiometric ratio so the boiling point was further elevated as per laws of vapour pressure.
Okk cut it.. cut this Frankenstein kinda crap… I am in fact in my kitchen making a futile attempt of preparing coffee, and I was nearing the end bringing the sugared milk to a boil so that I’d pour it in my glass with coffee powder… Wait… Where is the coffee?? I can’t make coffee without coffee powder…!!! I started searching every iota of my kitchen in pursuit of coffee when all of a sudden I heard a voice… “Ogochhaal Korbina…!!!”(Don’t mess up the kitchen). It was my mom’s voice. I turned back… but nobody was there. I recalled that mom was sound asleep in her room. Then who was it??? Ohh no!! I am hallucinating… I’m hearing voices… may be because of No-Coffee. It’s addictive, I have read it somewhere.
Or maybe it was a ghost… who cares… Right now I need coffee.
As I am not much into culinary so I don’t know the whereabouts of kitchen stuffs.
Or maybe mom confiscated it! She might have spied some night on me sneaking into the kitchen.
Whatever…
Right now it’s time to implement plan B.
I will switch to tea.
To clarify things, I must state here that I am a deft in coffee making skills. I have spent years carving them, shaping them with utter devotion. So much a prodigy that I’ve already decided that in case I don’t get any job, God forbid, I’ll open a coffee shop as a hawker. I have even come up with the name of shop as well
“Sammy’s Coffee: Bet more pressure on your bowels than a meager cup of tea…”
And I’ll even use laxatives in the morning to make sure it does. See, business strategy…
So I was a little hesitant. But how long can I evade making tea? What would I do if U.S. attacks whole of Africa blaming them of racial abuse on U.K. people and manifest coffee beans as biological weapons and starts dropping daisy cutters on every coffee farm and store or may be even shops… Whoa!! I won’t mark my coffee shop on google earth.
Or if someday excessive coffee harvesting lead to coffee plants evolving into hideous animals, waging war at humans to avenge there losses. Remember what Darwin said?? Evolution by natural selection.
In those cases I must learn to prepare tea. So, why not tonight?? At the end of the day… actually it was the beginning of the next day. I prepared a nice-ginger-tea. Which I wished I could share with someone…
Note: How does this make into my about me??
It’s simple… I am a good coffee maker and would like to share a sip with someone… and yes…not boys… and no special cases… if any and one last thing...no pun intended
Note to my sister: this is a joke. Don’t tell mom about it.

An Unusual yet so Common Day

28 july,2009
1:37 am
This day could have rendered me more helpless and exhausted, had there been no GT for second half.. for which i should extend my gratitude towards my mech comrades. Since i have joined the M-W-F batch of TIME... thank goodness , i got the evening slot, so that i don't have to stay stirred early in the morning..( guys.. i really feel pity for those who have registered for 6-8 batch..).. so where was i??? hmm... since i am into the evening batch i rutted towards mp nagar sharp at 4:30 so that i reach there by 4:50...
Now for additional information.. i drive very slow... yes !!! Didi.. if you are reading this then please look here... i drive my 75cc, 4 stroke-automatic transmission TVS scooty pep so damn slow that even a snail can outdo me on speed.. ohh too much of a hyperbole... but that suffices the description of my pathetic situation. I reached there as per my calculations and walked to our classroom. As soon i stepped up the building, i saw that hot faculty of time... at first glimpse, anyone would confuse her to be a student. But then the two marker pen come into sight, holding them so elegantly, so delicately that one's thoughts go void with it. She held those "lucky" stationary stuffs with a hold so tender, as if fondling a snow flake; But firm enough to let it go .Okk back to studies... No "Lota-giri"... the class was as usual unexpected. As i was expecting the loudspeaker for a migraine session, but the teacher turned out to be someone else, far better than the expected one.
The class ended at 7:00 and i was homebound.. on my way back i felt the recurring emotion that has been prohibited in scripts of all religions... HATRED
It happened so... i issued a book from the library and headed towards the road facing bittan market, only to be frustrated by a traffic jam. Some darn VIP was about to pass. Yes they do deserve special security. But halting the traffic rouses a wave of annoyance in the citizens forced to stop for him. The VIP never passes the stipulated route on time at the first place, then what is the sense in blocking the traffic for an hour or long. Secondly If they block both lanes it causes a serious unrest among people under emergency. Now if the cops think that operating the counter-parallel lane may turn favourable for some assassin, then my dear friends... even an amateur gunner can snip him from top of the buildings adjoining the road, and still not get caught. And my serious despise is on the fact that in bhopal, if you see cops all around then your conjecture is always right that some VIP is on the move. And rest of the time, some hideous crimes take place all over the city but not a single cop is to be seen. So the rule of this country is... either incarnate as some VIP or some grotesque criminal convicted of some Hideous crime. Because both of them are highly sentineled.