Sunday, September 28

The Fourth and the Last, Hopefully.

It is a bit late to exult about it yet I must mention I've managed to reach the last rung of the graduation ladder. The three years that went past weren't really the stuff to write about but among the many rituals we must undergo at R to keep the D company happy- the verification- entails a passage through all that I did and did not do. From painting competitions and computer quizzes to websites and debates, I find the years gone by reduced to glossy yet lifeless certificates.

The first year seems a distant past of which I recount everything for the nth time. Bonding over a pack of cards, discussing the atrocities perpetrated by the Puniya, Yella and Kuchi trio and the first night outs come to mind. Then there's WONA- knocking on absolute strangers' doors for OPs, writing and re-writing articles and knocking your brains out for ideas for every other arbitrary article. Running over to the other end of R-land just to paste labels over a misprint or cycling on a Saturday afternoon for a meeting. And the joys and trials of long distance - from walking inadvertently into the bathroom while on the phone, only to be looked at with suspicion to watching RDB under the pretense of attending the annual book fair - probably the reason R didn't suck so much yet. This was the time I entered the wonderful world JKR first imagined. Being a bit late on the scene, I read during most of my free time, even settling for ebooks at times. Also, the time this blog came into existence. This was the year a lot happened but little changed. Quite the contrary to the roller-coaster that was to follow.

The second was a lot more eventful and sometimes, a lot more scary. I entered Ravindra, the best in the seven, no offense, and discovered the joys of the much vaunted LAN. Then came Counter Strike 1.6 and the addiction for the elusive headshot. Snape became my second name. Soon the long distance calls were ignored for yet another call of fire-in-the-hole. After that, it was all downhill. First, fate parted the fifteen into the Fabulous Four on ground floor from those way up high, never to be recovered fully. Second, I soon got 'singled' and lost all the joie de vivre that you are automatically subscribed to as a member of the committee of committed people. I can't tell why it happened, for each time I think about it I come up with a different reason. Then there was EMAMI and perhaps the longest stint of presents I ever had in a subject. Second was also the time I hit my lowest SG and the time R began to suck stronger than a gaping black hole. Soon I began to wonder if the water at R could possibly be radioactive at the suggestion of Lurch Adams but I now suspect he had a tongue wiggling in the old cheek which I failed to notice beyond the magnifying glasses that he wore. Lastly, this was also the first time she talked to me. Although just a small conversation, it kindled the hopes of re-entering the committee. Little did I know.
Despite being replete with tribulations, the Second was the one I would remember the most.

The Third came like a breath of fresh air with the lightest semesters possible and the hopes of finding new joys and love not yet nipped. I discovered most of the songs I now call my favorite, read some of the best books I ever read, lost hopelessly in some of the most enjoyable quizzes and finally, designed the best Thomso website ever, no offense, and embarked on the never-ending quest to learn the quiddities of the guitar. The Third could have been very different than what it became. It was nothing like I would have imagined while preparing for the JEE and yet it was great. I took the most interesting courses and got better grades after quite some time. As far as she was concerned, I realized how a break-up and a life without talking to anyone among the fairer sex could twist your notions of reality and the methods of wooing a strangely depressed girl. After some impetuous and doomed decisions which were basically an encore of another event that happened years before the First, I scuttled the ship for good. There were times when Poetic Creep would try to urge me into action again, having himself failed in a similar endeavor and I think it was one of those ill-fated discussions that two annoying minions chanced upon and helped publicize. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the attention. Also, the third was after the geek had inherited the earth and it was time we could exhibit our complete repertoire in the mag. I helped create some of the best issues, again no offense, and a brilli-o-nt t-shirt pun: 'We have issues'. I'm still dying to get the t-shirt. Are the Morons listening?

As the Third ended, I went to the beautiful city of Bangalore (Jughead, don't sue me) as the whimpering intern, only to find myself in another dimension and time, where troubles melt like lemon drops. I watched the greatest Batman movie ever and made some new and interesting friends. I can't say I wouldn't trade it for a EuroTrip, but I would trade it for nothing less.

The Fourth is here now. I'm still not sure what I'll do once it's over so I'm preparing for everything. Some latest events such as Bloody Sunday and GREy Day have changed a few things but the wounds are still too fresh. To all who fear I will wallow yet again and even deign to generating doggerel like a monkey on a typewriter and infinite time, thanks, but I'm fine. I may look a little gloomy, but that's just what the radioactive water does to you.

Hope my attendance improves and I can confidently say- this is the end, my friend.

And here's hoping this one will be the best.

Monday, September 8

Bloody Sunday

After so many days having passed by unnoticed between the practicals and classes, there came this one sunday. The day that could be so many things it was not and was so many things I did not imagine it to be. Nothing pulls the rug under your feet better than, oh, life. Add to it the schadenfreude with which the Harbinger of Doom asks me to guess who executed the coup de grâce, simmer it with the knowledge that it wasn't The Obvious One and garnish with the fact that after some pleasant chitchat The Committe of Blocked Men had just lost yours truly as a member and you get a hint of the Mulligatawny I discovered me in. Just to add that extra jiggle to the sinister vortices already gurgling me towards oblivion, HoD insists it was the lady who hankered on.
While I'm not O death where is thy stinging, the callosity with which it all conspired and transpired hit me so hard that if I were in an Ekta Kapoor serial the cameras would've whooshed in and out on me for about half the episode. Reeling and all, I did what a jilted blogger could (not too unlike Aaj Tak and the rest of the media circus) and sat down to write yet another post with obscure allusions and clichés. Pray take no offence for this had too much TRP on The Banga Show in my megalomaniac world.
But I promise- no more senti and no more rhyme.
And L.O.V.E., no more cliches for quite some time.

Monday, September 1

Fiona ki lo na

So here's what happened. MiM is in the middle of getting laid or getting Supercommited with either of two females - Fiona and Kandi (not to be confused with the French teacher). While bedding Kandi who has a double digit IQ may not be possible due to constraints of the space-time-commitment continuum, Fiona is still up for grabs. Now with my limited powers of interrogation and deduction, I have gathered some facts about her:

  1. The name Fiona is, to my relief, not based on Shrek's princess. She is in fact the Fiona who did it in some guy's van every sunday.

  2. She is, or until very recently, was Supercommitted. MiM says she cannot be called Fiona anymore.

  3. MiM suggests there is a long list of people wagging their tails behind her

  4. Fiona stares at MiM. Or so he thinks.

  5. She isn't tall enough.

Without damaging MiM's chances of doing it in his antediluvian Maruti 800 every Sunday that it hasn't been lost, could my very intelligent readers point out possible identities for Fiona?
To get you started, I'll reveal that K-II and Laid-not-Committed think it's Pre-inca.
(I've been told blogs are a Chick magnet which means I'm going to write more often now.)