13 Dec '09,
6:00 pm,
It's 6 PM, the sun has gone beyond the horizon and the twilight is dissolving in air as if God is hippie and took a marijuana drag just a few seconds ago and the smoke is fading out in the sky. A few kids can be heard frolicking a few blocks away and chorusing the tune of a telecom company... Free ADVERTISING!!! There parents should ask for money from the company. I scratched my scalp and despaired at the strands of hair falling out on my diary which lies on today's newspaper. I don't want to become Vin Diesel before you know what or even Nicolas Cage for that matter.(D-:)
I swayed away my mind from my distressed coiffure back to the newspaper, The Copenhagen saga is still on. While the entire world is clamoring for curtailing carbon emissions, a clan of intellectuals, which I am adhering to, is pessimistic about the convention. Will the conference be worth all this effort? Even if a consensus is built up, which seems unlikely after the EU taking a stand and the Beijing summit conglomerates denying to accept the treaty in it's present form, it won't make much of a difference to the prevailing climatic degradation. History is full of examples wherein treaties have been violated by countries to shirk political and economical instability within the territory of same. The most relevant example being the Kyoto Protocol which wasn't earnestly followed since closing down industries and slowing growth rate, the only possible option in absence of technological changes, would have caused serious turmoil in the nations concerned. As a Result the countries didn't compy to the target of reducing emmission rate by 5% of what was in the year 1990. In Fact the emmission rates have surged disasterously. But of course there have been numerous technological innovations for the sake of environment, but very few of them have been viable.
Surrender to the truth!!! We are in a cul de sac. Either we must compromise on political instability or conjure up some viable technological solution or put an individual effort. I shall stick to the last one instead of summoning countries for conventions with such pomp and grandeur. To simplify things, the problem can be solved much well on an individual effort rather than creating a brouhaha on an international level which does nothing but intimidates and paralyses the common man.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Women-The biggest puzzle
13 Dec '09,
11:30 pm,
If woman is said to be the reason behind your success. Then history is evident she will destroy it as well with finesse. I must mention here that I am not saying this out of any personal experience but after the calamity that has befallen the ace golfer,Tiger Woods. After the fate bringing him to a sure end of his golf career, now it was time for Gillete to make a blow. They have axed the $19.4 billion deal with the golf-God. Let's see what's more for him in this Pandora's box. That's why they have rightly said If she can wade off your woes, then she can also become worst of your foes....
11:30 pm,
If woman is said to be the reason behind your success. Then history is evident she will destroy it as well with finesse. I must mention here that I am not saying this out of any personal experience but after the calamity that has befallen the ace golfer,Tiger Woods. After the fate bringing him to a sure end of his golf career, now it was time for Gillete to make a blow. They have axed the $19.4 billion deal with the golf-God. Let's see what's more for him in this Pandora's box. That's why they have rightly said If she can wade off your woes, then she can also become worst of your foes....
Friday, December 11, 2009
11 Dec '09,
1:20 pm,
I just came back from college... A workshop on Robotics and microcontrollers (duh..!! which are way beyond my engine's load bearing capacity) is being organised. It's being organised by DRMZ, a company runned by an alumnus from our college and further a graduate from IIM Indore. I went to the workshop with my usual motives for workshops where I have nothing to do in, i.e. for NSP... (NSP is a term with unknown origins which expands into Naen Sukh Prapi, or Eye Candy) Well that's what MANITers do if they are neither of the participant nor the volunteers. But to my dismay there was no one worth staring at. Anyway, the workshop was doing good but the participants reminded me of my childhood days. The days when teachers used to ask a question and we used to shout the answers while simultaneously raising the hands. While in college, I don't remember raising the hands at any instance... Cut from flashback and I am still impressed by the enthusiasm of those kids from the workshop. Since I had no work to do over there so I made a retreat.
1:20 pm,
I just came back from college... A workshop on Robotics and microcontrollers (duh..!! which are way beyond my engine's load bearing capacity) is being organised. It's being organised by DRMZ, a company runned by an alumnus from our college and further a graduate from IIM Indore. I went to the workshop with my usual motives for workshops where I have nothing to do in, i.e. for NSP... (NSP is a term with unknown origins which expands into Naen Sukh Prapi, or Eye Candy) Well that's what MANITers do if they are neither of the participant nor the volunteers. But to my dismay there was no one worth staring at. Anyway, the workshop was doing good but the participants reminded me of my childhood days. The days when teachers used to ask a question and we used to shout the answers while simultaneously raising the hands. While in college, I don't remember raising the hands at any instance... Cut from flashback and I am still impressed by the enthusiasm of those kids from the workshop. Since I had no work to do over there so I made a retreat.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Useless day
9 dec '09,
5:55 pm,
I have slept too much in the afternoon... I was reading a book and God knows when i dosed off... I woke up after 2 hrs of sleep. I am finding it hard to budget the rest of my day, especially when i have got to go to the market for vegetables... I'll keep my eyes open and see if i come across a topic to blog on
5:55 pm,
I have slept too much in the afternoon... I was reading a book and God knows when i dosed off... I woke up after 2 hrs of sleep. I am finding it hard to budget the rest of my day, especially when i have got to go to the market for vegetables... I'll keep my eyes open and see if i come across a topic to blog on
Monday, December 7, 2009
Franz Kafkaaa!!!! Can I torch this book??? x-(
7 dec '09,
2:00 PM,
Can't belive that such a man ever existed and made it to the clan of Philosophers. I am right now, trying to catch up with the views expressed by Franz kafka in his diaries. The diary begins at 1910 and continues till 1923, an year before he died. His works were preserved and later translated and published after his death by his close friend Max Brod. In his last days he gave his diary and works to Max and asked him to burn them. But the latter didn't... Treachery!!!!!!!
His works manifest the philosophy of existentialism and his loathe against the bureaucracy. He was a stout and short man( as he writes about himself) and had a deformed and quirk perception towards life. Even after being an insurance lawyer, he had little faith in law. He was an isolated person and always thought about himself. His diaries have got weird sketches made by him, about which i am trying to learn. Interestingly the famous quote " I was born intelligent but education ruined me" was given by Franz Kafka... As soon as i finish this book i will be uploading a review. But had this not been a prescribed reading... I won't have dared to touch this book. It gives you chronic headache if you read this continuously for a long time. I still feel like burning this into ashes. I think Franz Kafka had this last wish.
2:00 PM,
Can't belive that such a man ever existed and made it to the clan of Philosophers. I am right now, trying to catch up with the views expressed by Franz kafka in his diaries. The diary begins at 1910 and continues till 1923, an year before he died. His works were preserved and later translated and published after his death by his close friend Max Brod. In his last days he gave his diary and works to Max and asked him to burn them. But the latter didn't... Treachery!!!!!!!
His works manifest the philosophy of existentialism and his loathe against the bureaucracy. He was a stout and short man( as he writes about himself) and had a deformed and quirk perception towards life. Even after being an insurance lawyer, he had little faith in law. He was an isolated person and always thought about himself. His diaries have got weird sketches made by him, about which i am trying to learn. Interestingly the famous quote " I was born intelligent but education ruined me" was given by Franz Kafka... As soon as i finish this book i will be uploading a review. But had this not been a prescribed reading... I won't have dared to touch this book. It gives you chronic headache if you read this continuously for a long time. I still feel like burning this into ashes. I think Franz Kafka had this last wish.
Some scars will never fade (6 Dec 1992)
6 Dec '09,
11:59 PM,
It was not until I went to the drawing room while my Mom was watching TV there, that I realised that today is the 17th anniversary of the Black day of Indian Secularism. Yes, the day when Babri Masjid got demolished, the day which seeded the motives for the inhuman act in Mumbai, the day that raved up communal sentiments and the day that left us with so many conundrums.
I urgently need a sleep so I won't analyze the chronicle of events that lead to, as well as followed the demolition. I will discuss them in a later post.
The Structure has become dust, but it still stands as an edifice in the minds of the people connected to it religously as well as emotionally. Every year the two sides mark this day, one side mourns over it and the other celebrates. But I know a third kind, which includes people from both the communities concerned as well. Who don't care about which side triumphs. Who don't care if the saffron flag is hoisted on the ground zero or the green one.They have much more important works to do than to goad people and aggravate sentiments. And I am one of them.The issue is unsettled for he last 17 years and who knows how much more time will it take us to find a solution.
There is a Book written by Late. P. V. Narsimha Rao over this issue titled " Ayodhya, 6 Dec 1992". Which menions the events,official letters and orders pertaining to this issue in chronological order and successfully explains the judicial and constitutional loop holes in our country's governance. He also attempts to justify his inability to declare President rule over the state. I chanced to read it and made my own opinions over it, which will be mentioned in the later post. It's been 17 years and not an inch has moved (I have little hopes from Liberhan Commission Report) but the phantom of this issue will stray in our poilitics for some more time.
11:59 PM,
It was not until I went to the drawing room while my Mom was watching TV there, that I realised that today is the 17th anniversary of the Black day of Indian Secularism. Yes, the day when Babri Masjid got demolished, the day which seeded the motives for the inhuman act in Mumbai, the day that raved up communal sentiments and the day that left us with so many conundrums.
I urgently need a sleep so I won't analyze the chronicle of events that lead to, as well as followed the demolition. I will discuss them in a later post.
The Structure has become dust, but it still stands as an edifice in the minds of the people connected to it religously as well as emotionally. Every year the two sides mark this day, one side mourns over it and the other celebrates. But I know a third kind, which includes people from both the communities concerned as well. Who don't care about which side triumphs. Who don't care if the saffron flag is hoisted on the ground zero or the green one.They have much more important works to do than to goad people and aggravate sentiments. And I am one of them.The issue is unsettled for he last 17 years and who knows how much more time will it take us to find a solution.
There is a Book written by Late. P. V. Narsimha Rao over this issue titled " Ayodhya, 6 Dec 1992". Which menions the events,official letters and orders pertaining to this issue in chronological order and successfully explains the judicial and constitutional loop holes in our country's governance. He also attempts to justify his inability to declare President rule over the state. I chanced to read it and made my own opinions over it, which will be mentioned in the later post. It's been 17 years and not an inch has moved (I have little hopes from Liberhan Commission Report) but the phantom of this issue will stray in our poilitics for some more time.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
White Tiger, Book Review
5 Dec '09,
10:45 PM,
Bhopal,
Despite all the apprehensions passed on to me by my friends against this book, whenever I mentioned about it, I never lost my interest in it. Not to forget Dadlani and Sarkar who have peculiarly bitter taste for this book, and were warning me about it as if I am setting off on a life threatening expedition. Possibly because my buddies have a different taste for books, so they couldn't enjoy the book as I did.People have different tastes. Just as Balram in the story who hated Pizza... What!!! No yaar... I am not comparing you with Balram ... (:-P)The real pulchritude of "White Tiger" is that it is not a novel, it's a letter. A letter written to the Premier of Republic of China, Wen Jiabao. An innovative and unconventional letter which speculates how a semi-literate person from village with a perennial greed for knowledge, would write a letter. A meticulously crafted letter which brings to life the vicinities in front of your eyes, of every scene that is narrated. The reader feels like he is sitting next to Balram while he writes the letter. The reason for choosing the addressee to be Jiabao and not some other personality is also what makes this book by Arvind Adiga, a subtle piece of art. He compares the assumed failed democracy of India to the delusive success of communism in China. The novel begins in the backdrop of Laxmangarh, a place near Gaya, and advances through Dhanbad, Delhi and finally to Bangalore where he fulfills his dream of becoming his own master. The protagonist is an extraordiray boy, with unimaginable ambitions but born in a family which can harldly earn enough food. The portions of the story which move your heart are when the writer fascinatingly conjures up the atrocities in front of our eyes, which we might not have even heard of. The boy finally makes his way through the dungeon to become an enterprenneur, and writes in the letter about his enchanting voyage from rags to riches. So if you want know how a tea stall boy, a driver, a house-help, a murderer and a fugitive think... This book will satiate you with the answers.
Friday, December 4, 2009
I hate elections
4 Dec '09,
3:30 PM,
Bhopal,
The election date for the post of mayor of Bhopal Municipal Corporation is round the corner. So the candidates are busy campaigning as ridiculously as they can. While I am writing this blog, a candidate from a particular party is busy campaigning down on the road that my room faces. They are playing the song "Aye mere watan ke logo" which confuses me if this is an election or a death match. But I am happy that they have not made a humorous parody of it as it has happened in previous elections. The election campaigning in India is one of the many funny things in Indian Democracy. I am not being cynic. All I want is that instead of playing a stupid song on a Piaggio Ape' , shouting "hail" slogans and requesting the locals for vote ( which sounds more like a vegetable vendor clamouring to you for buying from him) on a microphone that appears to have been dipped in water, can't we go for a face to face debate like they do in US...
Hey wait!!! I can't hear that song anymore... Thank goodness... they are gone...
So where was I??? Yes... the rhetorical question with an obvious answer of NO... we don't want to embrace a proper election procedure.. We are still apprehensive about elections being a dirty game of criminals. We can't accept the debates because we have much more important works to do than to vote for a candidate... So much busy are we in our lives that we only get the election day for hanging out. It's a holiday after all. And about people like me!!! And even you( if you are taking interest in reading this post) We wait for a messiah to glide from the sky and bring about a revolutionary change... Don't we??
3:30 PM,
Bhopal,
The election date for the post of mayor of Bhopal Municipal Corporation is round the corner. So the candidates are busy campaigning as ridiculously as they can. While I am writing this blog, a candidate from a particular party is busy campaigning down on the road that my room faces. They are playing the song "Aye mere watan ke logo" which confuses me if this is an election or a death match. But I am happy that they have not made a humorous parody of it as it has happened in previous elections. The election campaigning in India is one of the many funny things in Indian Democracy. I am not being cynic. All I want is that instead of playing a stupid song on a Piaggio Ape' , shouting "hail" slogans and requesting the locals for vote ( which sounds more like a vegetable vendor clamouring to you for buying from him) on a microphone that appears to have been dipped in water, can't we go for a face to face debate like they do in US...
Hey wait!!! I can't hear that song anymore... Thank goodness... they are gone...
So where was I??? Yes... the rhetorical question with an obvious answer of NO... we don't want to embrace a proper election procedure.. We are still apprehensive about elections being a dirty game of criminals. We can't accept the debates because we have much more important works to do than to vote for a candidate... So much busy are we in our lives that we only get the election day for hanging out. It's a holiday after all. And about people like me!!! And even you( if you are taking interest in reading this post) We wait for a messiah to glide from the sky and bring about a revolutionary change... Don't we??
I am Happy That i was late
4 Dec '09,
12:31 PM,
Bhopal,
Well Speaking clearly, yesterday I got late for class at TIME. But still I am happy about it. I was reading a book and I was so absorbed in it that when I got up it was 2 min ahead of five while the class starts at five. Now the arguement behind me getting happy about it is that I showed extra-ordinary level of concentration after such a long time. I was imbibed into the book for 4 hours, without a break. Unbelievable it was for me. I don't know if I'll ever repeat that again but nonetheless I am happy about it. I was left with only four pages when my mom shouted " Don't you have a class today??". I looked at the clock hanging on my wall and I was shocked like a deer caught in a headlight. I quickly changed my pants and wore a shirt in haste. And ran like hell to the class. Thanks to my faculty at TIME, Mr. Ganesan who allowed me to get in even when I was 15 min late. I was puffing and perspiring heavily. But I was still happy about my new record of concentration
12:31 PM,
Bhopal,
Well Speaking clearly, yesterday I got late for class at TIME. But still I am happy about it. I was reading a book and I was so absorbed in it that when I got up it was 2 min ahead of five while the class starts at five. Now the arguement behind me getting happy about it is that I showed extra-ordinary level of concentration after such a long time. I was imbibed into the book for 4 hours, without a break. Unbelievable it was for me. I don't know if I'll ever repeat that again but nonetheless I am happy about it. I was left with only four pages when my mom shouted " Don't you have a class today??". I looked at the clock hanging on my wall and I was shocked like a deer caught in a headlight. I quickly changed my pants and wore a shirt in haste. And ran like hell to the class. Thanks to my faculty at TIME, Mr. Ganesan who allowed me to get in even when I was 15 min late. I was puffing and perspiring heavily. But I was still happy about my new record of concentration
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Some songs just moisten my eyes
I can't diagnose and ascertain the major reason to this peculiarity. There are some songs which when i hear make my eyes wet. As much i can guess it's a blend of nostalgia and grief. The grief that was unavoidable but it's after-effects have been beautiful. The nostalgia pertaining to the days when i heard Kenny G for the first time.One such song is "the Moment" by Kenny G.
Kenny Bruce Gorelick is a magnificent and matchless saxophone player. And whenever i get time i listen to his music. His opera sometimes are my lullaby and sometimes make me cry...
Kenny Bruce Gorelick is a magnificent and matchless saxophone player. And whenever i get time i listen to his music. His opera sometimes are my lullaby and sometimes make me cry...
Monday, November 23, 2009
Keep off the Grass
Here I ended up with yet another fiction book in my bibliography. At first sight this book resembled a publication of penguin books which I later discovered that it wasn't. So involuntarily I picked up this book since it resembled a previous read magnificent, unbiased book about Nehru's life, which was of course published under penguin books. When i took it in hands and read the end cover page, I felt like putting the book back into shelf as fictional novels written by novice writers contain amplified and explicit description of sex, which in my opinion, is unacceptable in literature. But very soon i realised that it has been a long break since i have read the last book so i decided upon reading casual writings, instead of jumping straight to my usual craving for philosophy and history. And luckily this book did not disappoint me at all.
I brought back the book and devoured it within two evenings. Now it was time for my perfunctory act of writing a summary( which i simultaneously planned to upload on my blog, owing to the 'meaningfulness' of the novel). But i felt that if i devastate the suspense of this book for the readers of my blog( i know there are not many, but still there are) it will be a total injustified act to the joy hidden in reading this book. So I zeroed down to writing a review instead.
The Story begins in a Restaurant in Manhattan where Samrat Ratan, an investment banker, is having a brunch with a blonde. The contrast is magnificent! A successful NRI investment banker sitting in a Japanese restaurant with a passionate-about-bankers American blonde in Manhattan. This is when the blonde asks him about his return to the country where he belongs to. The most interesting thing about the novel is that the opening sentence is the spark of this entire novel which jolts the protagonist and forces him to think about the meaningfulness of his life, his existence, his belongingness to the place where he lives and to the place where his ancestral roots are from.
So he sets on a journey in India to nowhere just to seek the answers to his questions. He takes admission into the IIM Bangalore where he is initially perceived as Guy-gone-crazy who left his half million dollar yearly salary of a bank where everyone wants to be and came to IIMs oblivious of the hideous education system it pillars on.
Samrat's Pursuit for truth begins with getting stoned on marijuana as soon as he enters India and revolves around him and two of his friends, Sarkar and Vinod, with extremely different opinions about the 'homeland'. All through the odyssey there is GPA,Truthseeking, Philosophical crap, and Marijuana. One of the most captivating part in the novel that holds you within is the suspense of Shine Sarkar's identity. Apart from all these it denudes the atrophying Indian Educational system while simultaneously silencing the questions raised on it's usefulness.
I would like to write an excerpt from the book, which is of course my personal favourite part in the book, in which a summer intern bickers about the discrimination and jaundiced opinions in Indian society. He does so in reply to a question asked by a French MD, Anne asking what "desi" means...
The pursuit finally ends after lots of drags of marijuana, fucked up GPA at the IIM, lots of weird hanging out with buddies, an experience of great Indian prison cell, an uppy downy session with a hippie and an ordeal with a cannibal Sadhu. In a nutshell the book keeps you enchanted till you finish it
I brought back the book and devoured it within two evenings. Now it was time for my perfunctory act of writing a summary( which i simultaneously planned to upload on my blog, owing to the 'meaningfulness' of the novel). But i felt that if i devastate the suspense of this book for the readers of my blog( i know there are not many, but still there are) it will be a total injustified act to the joy hidden in reading this book. So I zeroed down to writing a review instead.
The Story begins in a Restaurant in Manhattan where Samrat Ratan, an investment banker, is having a brunch with a blonde. The contrast is magnificent! A successful NRI investment banker sitting in a Japanese restaurant with a passionate-about-bankers American blonde in Manhattan. This is when the blonde asks him about his return to the country where he belongs to. The most interesting thing about the novel is that the opening sentence is the spark of this entire novel which jolts the protagonist and forces him to think about the meaningfulness of his life, his existence, his belongingness to the place where he lives and to the place where his ancestral roots are from.
So he sets on a journey in India to nowhere just to seek the answers to his questions. He takes admission into the IIM Bangalore where he is initially perceived as Guy-gone-crazy who left his half million dollar yearly salary of a bank where everyone wants to be and came to IIMs oblivious of the hideous education system it pillars on.
Samrat's Pursuit for truth begins with getting stoned on marijuana as soon as he enters India and revolves around him and two of his friends, Sarkar and Vinod, with extremely different opinions about the 'homeland'. All through the odyssey there is GPA,Truthseeking, Philosophical crap, and Marijuana. One of the most captivating part in the novel that holds you within is the suspense of Shine Sarkar's identity. Apart from all these it denudes the atrophying Indian Educational system while simultaneously silencing the questions raised on it's usefulness.
I would like to write an excerpt from the book, which is of course my personal favourite part in the book, in which a summer intern bickers about the discrimination and jaundiced opinions in Indian society. He does so in reply to a question asked by a French MD, Anne asking what "desi" means...
'Indians use desi to describe themselves, sometimes affectionately, but mostly derogatorily. You know why we use it derogatorily? It is because Indians are the biggest racists.We hate each other - North Indians hate South Indians, Bengalis hate Punjabis, Resident Indians hate Non Resident Indians, Upper Caste hate Lower Castes, Marwaris hate Parsis, Hindus hate Muslims, everyone hates everyone, but we all cohabit and together blame the West for Racism'
The pursuit finally ends after lots of drags of marijuana, fucked up GPA at the IIM, lots of weird hanging out with buddies, an experience of great Indian prison cell, an uppy downy session with a hippie and an ordeal with a cannibal Sadhu. In a nutshell the book keeps you enchanted till you finish it
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Garfield
I just came across this beautiful business episode...
Jim Davis is credited for the famous cartoon character Garfield.
Now why i call this an amalgamation of luck and business has an interesting story behind it.
Jim davis had been a well established ad maker of USA and wrote a cartoon strip Gnorm Gnat for local newspaper. This cartoon strip was published in Pendleton Times for about 5 years, when one day he approached a national syndicate to publish his cartoon strip. To his disppointment the editor refused to publish them, arguing that "bugs are not a character a common man can relate himself to".
This is after what Garfield emanated. Initially designed to become merely an 'effective' Cartoon strip, owing to the comment by the editor, Garfield, as predicted vaguely, turned out to be a huge hit. Within no time the character was seen as a huge potential for a whole new episode of merchandise industry. The turnovers were so huge that Jim Davis created a company Paws inc. to look after the assets of this cartoon character. Now isn't this intriguing that what was assumed to be a mere cartoon strip of newspapers turned out to be a gold mine. Thanks to that editor, who actually shares most of the credit
Jim Davis is credited for the famous cartoon character Garfield.
Now why i call this an amalgamation of luck and business has an interesting story behind it.
Jim davis had been a well established ad maker of USA and wrote a cartoon strip Gnorm Gnat for local newspaper. This cartoon strip was published in Pendleton Times for about 5 years, when one day he approached a national syndicate to publish his cartoon strip. To his disppointment the editor refused to publish them, arguing that "bugs are not a character a common man can relate himself to".
This is after what Garfield emanated. Initially designed to become merely an 'effective' Cartoon strip, owing to the comment by the editor, Garfield, as predicted vaguely, turned out to be a huge hit. Within no time the character was seen as a huge potential for a whole new episode of merchandise industry. The turnovers were so huge that Jim Davis created a company Paws inc. to look after the assets of this cartoon character. Now isn't this intriguing that what was assumed to be a mere cartoon strip of newspapers turned out to be a gold mine. Thanks to that editor, who actually shares most of the credit
Friday, October 2, 2009
Vijaya Dashami... Shubho bijoya
28-Sept, 09
1130 hrs
Once again with heavy hearts we will immerse her.. MAA DURGA....
Even though being assured that she will return again in forthcoming year and so on..
Our eyes go wet, hearts are heavy, yet we smile, for the moment of joy.
we smile for the four days of exuberance, amuses and celebration.
Every single day, every single eve, we live the moment. We know not the reason. Perhaps because somewhere we are acquainted to our immortality and wish to squeeze the moment to imbibe every single drop of nectar.
Even after being with buddies like chhotu, magga, binty, amit, ghost, psycho, mukherjee, sarkar, DSR, suneel, sapru, manish, un-Shutup etc. life seemed to be ephemeral. These moments shall remain engraved in my heart forever.
I am no pessimist but who knows ... these people may not be here, in Bhopal, for a celebration in the forthcoming year which is "hopefully"
the omega of our engineering.
I shall miss these moments, I shall miss Strawberry a.k.a. California Orange a.k.a. Choco-Blast, I shall miss the surveillance we performed before every batch of Bhog, we might even forget the count of how many crush Vishwanath had in these days, we will miss sourabh mukjherjee's s*****b***i...( and her famous words "ki bhaalo gaao tumi...pooochu koochu.. koochi koo") yes these days will never come back... But hope so not for Strawberry...
1130 hrs
Once again with heavy hearts we will immerse her.. MAA DURGA....
Even though being assured that she will return again in forthcoming year and so on..
Our eyes go wet, hearts are heavy, yet we smile, for the moment of joy.
we smile for the four days of exuberance, amuses and celebration.
Every single day, every single eve, we live the moment. We know not the reason. Perhaps because somewhere we are acquainted to our immortality and wish to squeeze the moment to imbibe every single drop of nectar.
Even after being with buddies like chhotu, magga, binty, amit, ghost, psycho, mukherjee, sarkar, DSR, suneel, sapru, manish, un-Shutup etc. life seemed to be ephemeral. These moments shall remain engraved in my heart forever.
I am no pessimist but who knows ... these people may not be here, in Bhopal, for a celebration in the forthcoming year which is "hopefully"
the omega of our engineering.I shall miss these moments, I shall miss Strawberry a.k.a. California Orange a.k.a. Choco-Blast, I shall miss the surveillance we performed before every batch of Bhog, we might even forget the count of how many crush Vishwanath had in these days, we will miss sourabh mukjherjee's s*****b***i...( and her famous words "ki bhaalo gaao tumi...pooochu koochu.. koochi koo") yes these days will never come back... But hope so not for Strawberry...
Monday, August 10, 2009
Eureka!!!!!!!!!!!
10 Aug, 2009
A few moments back i managed to come across a great discovery while searching for some blogs i'd follow( actually i assume they will also follow me in return).
The unimaginable discovery that i just made was that Durjoy Dutta is about to release a second book this month titled "Now that you're rich... Let's Fall in love". I swear, I am unimaginably desperate for that book. Now for the catch, i actually have a bitter taste for fiction books. But for this writer, i wasn't expecting myself to read his last book, "Of Course I Love You.... Till I Find Someone Better" as this was the only book i could afford within the caution money deposited in a local library. So reluctantly I issued this book like an epicure, fond of only a few peculiar cuisines, hesitating for a particular dish he has despised for it's taste. I roughly remember it was Sunday, evening, 8 'o clock, I guess, and I had nothing to do. So i picked that book and started reading. Amazingly, i was so imbibed into it, that when i looked up it was 10'o clock and i was halfway through it. It's story is about a Bengali Boy, who is a mechanical engineering student, very much fond of blogging.... hey .. what??? don't look at me like that... here is the twist.. He is From DCE and further pronounced difference.. he is so good in handling Girls...
But still found myself attached to that story. i can't explain how... it rendered some emotions akin to those in the story...
This is all I can tell you about this book because it's fun lies in reading every single page. One instance i mention here .. and the joy for that page will be lost while reading it. Don't think that i might not have read other fictional books... i have of course.. but the fact is harry potter gives me cramps, sidney sheldon made me puke.. and the list never ends...
I don't know why but this book is a real plethora of tickling joys. So Guys and Girls, if you find the second Book " Now That You Are Rich... Let's Fall In Love", then for God's Sake share it with me.. i'll be obliged to you forever
A few moments back i managed to come across a great discovery while searching for some blogs i'd follow( actually i assume they will also follow me in return).
The unimaginable discovery that i just made was that Durjoy Dutta is about to release a second book this month titled "Now that you're rich... Let's Fall in love". I swear, I am unimaginably desperate for that book. Now for the catch, i actually have a bitter taste for fiction books. But for this writer, i wasn't expecting myself to read his last book, "Of Course I Love You.... Till I Find Someone Better" as this was the only book i could afford within the caution money deposited in a local library. So reluctantly I issued this book like an epicure, fond of only a few peculiar cuisines, hesitating for a particular dish he has despised for it's taste. I roughly remember it was Sunday, evening, 8 'o clock, I guess, and I had nothing to do. So i picked that book and started reading. Amazingly, i was so imbibed into it, that when i looked up it was 10'o clock and i was halfway through it. It's story is about a Bengali Boy, who is a mechanical engineering student, very much fond of blogging.... hey .. what??? don't look at me like that... here is the twist.. He is From DCE and further pronounced difference.. he is so good in handling Girls...
But still found myself attached to that story. i can't explain how... it rendered some emotions akin to those in the story...
This is all I can tell you about this book because it's fun lies in reading every single page. One instance i mention here .. and the joy for that page will be lost while reading it. Don't think that i might not have read other fictional books... i have of course.. but the fact is harry potter gives me cramps, sidney sheldon made me puke.. and the list never ends...
I don't know why but this book is a real plethora of tickling joys. So Guys and Girls, if you find the second Book " Now That You Are Rich... Let's Fall In Love", then for God's Sake share it with me.. i'll be obliged to you forever
Sunday, August 9, 2009
8 Aug,2009
if i have to select the best joke that MTV has ever cracked then it will be from yesterday's "wassup youngistan" poll of the day...
Jose quipped in his famous teasing tone that these days the hot topics of discussions in our parliament are related to the TV boils for instance ... what should be done about sach ka saamna, what should be the regulations to stop shows like rakhi ka swayamwar... he further exaggerated... will rakhi marry elesh or not??... etc.
so the poll of the day was that do we think the politicians should apprehend the hideousness of Swine flu and start discussions on it.
Now we are not oblivious of the fact that govt. is serious about the issue. However the funny observable thing is not about the govt. but the media instead. Roughly 70% of the transmission on news channels is related to reality shows. The real news hardly makes a place into these channels.
Now why should i bother about the apocalypse in 2012, or why should i be concerned about how rahul gandhi spends his weekend. Still there are many questions unanswered
if i have to select the best joke that MTV has ever cracked then it will be from yesterday's "wassup youngistan" poll of the day...
Jose quipped in his famous teasing tone that these days the hot topics of discussions in our parliament are related to the TV boils for instance ... what should be done about sach ka saamna, what should be the regulations to stop shows like rakhi ka swayamwar... he further exaggerated... will rakhi marry elesh or not??... etc.
so the poll of the day was that do we think the politicians should apprehend the hideousness of Swine flu and start discussions on it.
Now we are not oblivious of the fact that govt. is serious about the issue. However the funny observable thing is not about the govt. but the media instead. Roughly 70% of the transmission on news channels is related to reality shows. The real news hardly makes a place into these channels.
Now why should i bother about the apocalypse in 2012, or why should i be concerned about how rahul gandhi spends his weekend. Still there are many questions unanswered
Sunday, August 2, 2009
on escaping a tempest
31 july, 2009
Sometimes I feel that one of the best skills man has crafted is the skill of forgetting, as I have done. The skill that washes away undesirable memories from brain, once and forever.
As a kid I used to have a sharp memory, at least commendable enough at my level, but very soon I realized the grotesque aspect of remembering ‘facts’ and ‘instances’.
As a matter of fact, I inculcated this art of oblivion as a camouflage and fortification for my errors.
I still ‘remember’ how I convinced my teacher for a perception of me as a child with volatile memory. She was so ‘convinced’ that the following week I got punished for not submitting my assignment when I said “I forgot”. More elaborately, the punishment was in an aggravated manner, contrary to my calculation and belief, as a harvest of her frustration seeded by my stupid excuses.
This is counted as one of my most fatuous ludo-moves in a chess game.
A decade has passed and this skill of forgetting has tanned into a mature art, an art that has kept me alive. The art that kept me from drowning into the mighty blue, I just surfed through.
I am happy coz I am ashore.
I am happy coz I can now close my eyes and feel the breeze from the ocean, without any fear.
I am happy coz I have realized, better late than never, that the gleaming orb which I surfed the sea for, is far beyond my reach and has weaved into the horizon.
I have learnt a lesson… Not anymore will I swim after yet another effulgence that may rise from the lands tomorrow and float across the skies.
Coz for sure it will kiss the horizon long before I can reach there to wait for it. And once again get caught in a tempest.
It’s twilight now; my feet are spooning the sand. In a tattered shirt and drenched pair of pants, I sit down, my back towards the sea, looking at the trees, the sand and the stones. A hut stands a few yards away, the place where I lived before setting off in pursuit of an inconceivable dream. I shall go there now.
Tomorrow, I will come here and collect some oysters, for I am sure I’ll find a pearl. The best part about them… they don’t incinerate you. And that shining object i ran after... I'll 'forget' it... After all I am so good at it.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Some drink to forget, may be i suffer a complete memory loss after that
29 July,2009
“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
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.
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 intendedNote to my sister: this is a joke. Don’t tell mom about it.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
my training days
Such a long time have I spent without my second love, my pen; my first love, you know very well are all the beautiful wheelie beasts,( you call them cars and bikes) but now I have succumbed myself to my ultimate avocation.
Thanks to Nishant Doorwar ( a bit clumsy name, hence we call him Durri) who praised my opus and all my friends who’ve admired my ardent desire of writing, that I have once again roused up the writer within my heart and hope it’s wariness to last awhile.
The last couple of days, the industrial training kept me engaged so I hardly got time to connect with my friends. Thanks to the hour-long lunch break that I was able to access the net else I’d died in dearth of addictive drugs like Orkut-ophine, Facebook-uana and not to forget yahoo-dine.
However I don’t think that the absence of these drugs could hamper my health as much as they ‘d otherwise, for I found a new friend circle down here…. The industrial workers and trainees. Not as much fun loving as an average manitian is, but still they were jovial.
Beepin; I tried calling him vipin, but he resents the latter pronunciation. He says that it’s incorrect… he said,”BEEPIN nahi … BEEPIN bolo… ” (I am still confused, what’s the difference), is the guy who is explaining me the work on a machining centre. What I love about these people is the way they talk, the rustic tone, the countryside feeling
If I ever chance to ( I m sure I will, it’s just that I’m trying to be a little humble) make my way to one of the leading automobile companies of Germany, all I will be missing will be people like these. Every morning they greet me as if they’ve known me for years. Inside the canteen we talk all the nonsensical things of factory, such a warm environment will ever remain etched in my memories.
If U.P. were quit of all the detestable activities, It’d bless heaven…
Thanks to Nishant Doorwar ( a bit clumsy name, hence we call him Durri) who praised my opus and all my friends who’ve admired my ardent desire of writing, that I have once again roused up the writer within my heart and hope it’s wariness to last awhile.
The last couple of days, the industrial training kept me engaged so I hardly got time to connect with my friends. Thanks to the hour-long lunch break that I was able to access the net else I’d died in dearth of addictive drugs like Orkut-ophine, Facebook-uana and not to forget yahoo-dine.
However I don’t think that the absence of these drugs could hamper my health as much as they ‘d otherwise, for I found a new friend circle down here…. The industrial workers and trainees. Not as much fun loving as an average manitian is, but still they were jovial.
Beepin; I tried calling him vipin, but he resents the latter pronunciation. He says that it’s incorrect… he said,”BEEPIN nahi … BEEPIN bolo… ” (I am still confused, what’s the difference), is the guy who is explaining me the work on a machining centre. What I love about these people is the way they talk, the rustic tone, the countryside feeling
If I ever chance to ( I m sure I will, it’s just that I’m trying to be a little humble) make my way to one of the leading automobile companies of Germany, all I will be missing will be people like these. Every morning they greet me as if they’ve known me for years. Inside the canteen we talk all the nonsensical things of factory, such a warm environment will ever remain etched in my memories.
If U.P. were quit of all the detestable activities, It’d bless heaven…
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