Tuesday, April 06, 2004
I was sitting in the mess making my usual sad attempt at eating something. I profess to the crime of forgetting what I was eating but then I promise it was forgettable. Talking of promises, i am tempted to hold my Adam's apple, press it hard and squeek out "Gowd promise, it was forgettable").
Anyway,it was hot and humid and I can confidently say that such weather is not conducive to clear thought. Then it happened. I tried to believe that I had misheard it, so I searched my meagre database of words in a random fashion trying to look for a word which sounded like what I had heard but there were none which fitted in. "What the F#$@ is trisexual? Why on earth would someone crack a poor joke(pj) on one?"
I thought to myself,"gowd, whaz wrong with Adi.... has he so completely lost it?" I think i even managed to groan aloud. And then a min later I was trying to do worse than him.
I once read about this funny inch long animal called the box jelly fish which is the most venomous creature existing on this planet. But then what is also true about it is that it has 24 eyes and no brain. It strikes fast and regularly, with instant effect. I mean, come on: what kind of lopsided evolution is this(24 eyes and no brain...yugggssss). Wonder how it survived this long thoughtlessly. But then, lopsided things like three legged chairs seem to make it in the world( for evidence please visit our hall Tv room).
Which brings me to this rather obvious def. of a Pj(poor joke or pathetic jocularity) : A Pj is like a box jelly fish which gets aroused under unfavourable conditions and seeks out its target within a diameter of 7.14 feet with sheer venom. Some remain immune to it, but the infected hosts immediately produce a few more of the same species. The process is cyclic and sometimes lasts lifelong with lethal consequences.
Symptoms:Loud giggling at odd hours with intermittent groans. Palpitation (note that this one doesnt refer to the fairy palpitating its wings to rise up). Alienation and living with the aweful allegation of being AKA ( angrez ke aulad) n UBI(unfortunately born in India).
Known cure: None unless ofcourse u would consider living with a slowpoke a cure.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
Chapter 1:
"I remember", said the old man coughing. "But it has been many years and I have lost track of time". He stopped for breath. "Wonder what happened to those beautiful creatures who inhabited this planet. The grass was greener; the air had a sweet smell of youth." He looked around: he saw decay and death everywhere and the smell of local alcohol filled the air. The smoke which hugged the planet seemed to pierce the lungs as though it were trying to get a cold stealy grip on whatever remained of "life as the old man knew it". A tear forced its way out of those deep dark eyes and distracted my attention. I followed it as it made its way through the deep furrows of his wrinkled face and finally fell on the GREEN planet.
Do I hear the sound of a wailing woman or is it the cry of the green planet? I tried to think of other things but it would not work. I put my hands on my ears trying to shut the wailing sounds out of my life. I closed my eyes so I would not have to look at the unhappiness which I saw in the old man's eyes. But then, this time it was different. I could not shut off the noises or the images. My throbbing veins echoed the voices of a million creatures who were once inhabitants of this green planet.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The time had come.......
Chapter 2:
"I remember but it has been many years and I have lost track of time...."
I looked into his sparkling bright eyes and sighed. He sat on my lap, listening intently to what I had to say. I ran my hand though his soft hair and felt his tiny hands in my own. I could hear his tiny heart beating next to mine. I breathed in the cool air of my village and smiled to myself:
They were closer now Fernando
Every hour every minute seemed to last eternally
I was so afraid Fernando
We were young and full of life and none of us prepared to die
And I'm not ashamed to say
The roar of guns and cannons almost made me cry
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There's no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Monday, October 13, 2003
Lament of a Blog
Le Zit Wit: Halt! Thou shall not pass!!TMMoses
Le Green Bug: Sir, I'm just a poor blog on a cold summer night, a wandering minstrel am I. In my heyday, when the sun shone bright, bright as a luminescent le green bug on a cold summer night, friends had I. Imbued with the warm glow of brotherhood was I. Loved and adored was I. A beautiful plump blog was I.
Le Zit Wit: Halt! Thou shall not pass!!TMMoses
Le Green Bug: Alas, the fleeting halcyon days were never meant to be. Shattered were those dreams. For reveries are only ephemeral. Far removed from reality were they. Gullible was I. But tell me dear sir, is it a crime to be hopeful? For if dreaming was a felony, Martin Luther King would surely be sentenced for life.
Friends I havent anymore. Friends I never had. Leave did the lone flea on my back for greener backsides. Backbiting wretches they all turned out to be!
Le Zit Wit: Halt thou shall not pass!!TMMoses
Le Green Bug: Things surely have come to a pass! BooHoo..
Le Zit Wit: Stop it! Scaring away the fleas you are!TMMoses
Bugger off!
Thursday, October 02, 2003
Philanthropy to Pauperosity
Life's a great leveller. Five days ago I was a rich guy. I had friends who laughed and talked. Friends who I thought were faithful. Firends who I thought would give me company in good days and bad. So I showered my riches upon one of them who was in dire need. I cant give you his name him cuz he is too big a sinner. Lets just called him Adi. Or say S V Aditya.
But alas. Today I have no money and no friends. The only ones still around are Adi and Singla. Singla is as broke as Adi, and Adi is as broke as a test tube that has just been stepped upon by an angry overweight elephant.
This is an appeal to all of you rich happy people lolling about in your air conditioned homes. Three guys (alright only one of them of any real consequence)are stuck in a distant town and are battling for survival in a never ending hand-to-mouth battle against the odds. All contributions will go directly to the international fund for CV's Stereo System (10000W with mp3 support and a host of other features). So what are you waiting for you filthy rich rascals. Please make a contribution.
There's only one earth. And you only get one chance.
Saturday, September 27, 2003
Everyone's left ....
the wing is all empty...empty rooms ,empty minds ....and with the mess closed.......and us being lazy butts....empty stomachs.
Its on these occasions that u need sumone to give u quality company.......we were all expecting that special sumone to turn up from sum place i know not of .....but the moron who was supposda be the kgp connection of that sp sumone broke off the link at the wrong wrong time ........result...we r like wat i described ourselves to be.
save for the freak visit to the music room, a freakier call from ur girlfriend far away....or the freakiest of them all.....watching a latest US top ten grosser on ur comp......in short u hav to be "Cruso_fied"...in order to survive here.....
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Art of Story Telling
Its been a while..so excuse me for thoking no more....well a specific individual did not approve of my profile/image. This opinion rather puzzled me, though complex, had a pseudo reality in it, which by the way compelled me to transform. I am a new man so to speak, like a blogger. Apparently changed. But we remain who we are and under these assumptions we proceed with the topic, ... or the subject,... whatever , being the title of this post. The title is dedicated to the individual mentioned above which brings us back to the question, what is it about??
well as its been clarified before , ther's no point reading a long crappy book when u get the gist of it in the title...so no more said...
Of Pythons and Full Monties....
there was once a group of five men and a man.they were all born on some of the many days that populate the year;sum died,sum dying while others make a good enuff living.
there was once a band of four cats and a donkey.while their music was catatonic their songs were kick ass.they all died wen eaten up by hungry aliens.
ya ya end of story.what didya expect?
ya one thingy though......the empty post's nice huh??
The Dummies' Guide To Surviving Sur
Todays topic is Kunal Sur. For those of you who don't know him, this will be a plain bore. For those of you who do, this will be a plain bore.
But this might be your only chance at survival.
So here it is. Kunal Sur, aged 20 and weighing 21 (did i mix up the figures there?) mighty kilograms, walks up to you one fine morning and challenges you to a duet. You accept the challenge at once, knowing fully well that this guy sings like a frog.
So all's well you might think, and you would go grab your microphone and clear your throat. You think you are safe and snug. You are so wrong my friend.
If only you had known Sur's notion of the word duet.
duet (n.) :A deadly fight between two warriors that generally ends with one or both of them dead. eg.The amphitheater was full of people waiting anxiously for the duet between the gladiators to begin or Most people in medieval France died in horrible duets.
Of course at the end of it you would say you were cheated. But Kunal Sur, aged and weighing either of 20 or 21, would only shrug and say he warned you. You and I know he is lying again.
But Sur, you gotta realise that two wrongs dont make a riot.
PS : This account is based on a true story.
And now for something completely different. An empty blog entry..
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Adi:Why do I have to think of something to fill in the "Title" field even before I've blogged enough to asphyxiate a blue baby ant with one nostril missing? Sometimes....
Sherlock Holmes(alias Inspector Dig): Excuse me for this interruption remniscent of a Monty Python episode but I had to butt in to clear my throat pretty darn conspicuously
Adi:Conspicuously??? Dude I have a lil'l something of yours all over me! Fine, Ill rephrase ... Everytime I try to post something, I get stuck for a couple of earth hours trying to come up with just the damn title. Heh heh... Do I hear twelve and a few more voices screaming out "And that is the best you can do?". Hmmm come to think of if, every 'self-respecting' 'free-mail' (the twain shall never meet??) site insists on moa filling up the offending subject field before anything is said at all!
Adi (The Next Morning): Whoa this is a creative high. I dozed off posting this message.
The Witch Doctor: Sacrilege! Let me "see" your pulse.
Adi (Morning star was soo much better): Anyway, this beats dozing off half way through an orgy. Do I hear eleven and a few more virgins scream "Yeah ... dream on you liar, you aint no North a-la-singla star"
Back to the post(snigger): Going back to the thing about about subjects (or was it kings and titles?) this post started off with, I agree that I start off with no thing in particular to write about (like most other law abiding citizens of Greensville). Being desultory is not a crime. And so is not filling the mess card but that's definitely another story. When I have no idea of what I will post and what will be rejected in the spellchecker and the interests-of-the-english-language-checker how in the world am I expected to come up with a three word prescis of a whole blog! When they gave Hitler a few years to come up with a title for his autobiography, the best he could come up with was "My Struggle ".
I propose/suggest/(blog??) that the "title" field shoud be displayed after the message so that lesser mortals can just read the words in bold to get the message. A striking parallel would be how all novels have the gist of the story at the end of the book(the back cover ... moron!) So, even if I get no word of what the novel's all about, I'm still smug with the knowledge that there exists this one page summary with a color illustration that'll make things a lot clearer!!
Adi Shiv-Khera: What are we waiting for? Allow me to demonstrate the power of this new way of life
Title: Down with the titles and the privy purses!
Monday, September 22, 2003
And now that i HAVE....found out that it is infact the case......i dearly hope and pray to go(w)d ...."please let the unworthy writeups of others also make way into ur sacred space i.e. this bloggy blog"
HEY SMILY JOE!!Post AND Publish
It seems there has been...a sumthing posted by sumone OTHER than me...(but still no consolation for the visitors from maryland.!!) it was smily joe himself.
I dint get the "doing a Moi" and "complex mathematical equations" though.I mean , me being so unwanted and desperately craving attention (to such an extent that i write here on a regular basis)...and going by the sheer lengths of me sentences....u cud have said....well "complex and meaningless long sentences"....
Neway....first we have to get ur thingy up here....which it isnt....WHICH IN TURN makes me piece over here all the more MORE meaningless.
Friday, September 19, 2003
while the time tides by....episode 1b
never have the mornings been so closely knit for the occupants ...especially for the other night's morons and the lone sensible guy.shud see them today,all huddled up ...with the gray cells fusing at astronomical rates ....and the encephala-digestive system making sure the puke happens "right on time".
All the best honehs......all the best.
while the time tides by...episode 1
never have the evenings and nights been so so wasted........talk bout being on weed...and getting blown..but NO.
there u have a bunch of morons becoming increasingly frivolous in their pre exam night scheduling...on black adders (FINE !!!the paper's all full of shit!)...and here its ME......getting all the more worried..
-on behalf of Sur
Thursday, September 18, 2003
There is the n-type and there is the p-type,
then there is the n-type again,
three chunks of silicon of different sizes and shape,
fused together at high temperature...this is no resistor...
for this my friends is the brilliant TRANSISTOR...
One end was called emitter, the other collector
the poor base in between was the sole arbitrator,
All was well till some jerks and mean asses,
excited both ends with different biases,
the deluge of carriers that gushed through the base,
it could hold no more, the pull from the collector and push from the emitter,
tired of this tussle and losing motivation,
the transistor gave in and crawled out of activation,
this is what my friends is called TRANSISTOR SATURATION....
***
thriving where no thok survived before
From the anonymous diaries:1
Its a bright and sunny morning in sum parts of the world and here we r again........under the sun ...bathing in a pool of ice....wow .....feels goooood!!
Ever wondered wat it feels like to sit on a piece of ice and then sink down as it liquifies?....DO that shit once in a while people....gr8 stuff!!
I generally use up me afternoons well and good, But on this particular occasion i had a few visitors from out of hemisphere.....seemed they were having problems with the freezing water and the night time throughout.....told them......."give it time brothers ...just a few more months to go and it ll be ..........."
But who the fuck listens to a penguin!!!!
Dated:3rd november 2083
The "Roses are red...." poem revisited......
The sky that was never painted to be blue
The grass that was never grown to be green
The blood that gushed out was never ever red
The world of a blind man that never was black
All the moments that never passed by
All the sufferings that never brought a tear
All that hatred that never was for love
And all those deaths that never did us part
So many lines but without a word
So many thoughts but without a heart
So many trials ,all without a judge
So many me's , all without a u
that joke sucked brother Cee Vee
A joke shud be short and cool.....sumthing like this for instance....
long long time ago there were a king and queen.
long long time ago there was the king.
Adventures of Slowpoke the gazelle:
Slowpoke: Pa why did you name me Slow Poke? i mean its not like it severely dents my self esteem, but it does give my classmates a chance to pull my athletic leg.
Guinneojk: Look here son. 7 years ago, when i was young and energetic like you are, i was pretty distraught with my name too. But you'll grow up to it one day son. You'll realise that a laughable name actually makes you love yourself.
Slowpoke: But father, why can't I have a better name like say, blitzkreig or ferrari till I am old enough to require a bad name?
Gunneojk: Slowpoke its time for me to let you in on a secret. Come lets go for a stroll on the serengeti son.
Slowpoke: But papa, I havent finished my porridge yet..
Gunneojk: Son, you ARE a fucking slowpoke. lets face it.
Kinkanalia:(from the kitchen) Darling did you just use the f-word on our son again?
Gunneojk: Son, take solace from your mother's name. Her Pa must have hated her looks. Hee hee.
It presently seems i am so so jobless that the only thing i ever do is write here.Well isnt it funny coz i AM jobless.To all those who have heard this one before, hear it again....and again, Until u get so pissed that u join ....do so well that u get a super promo in a year or so and then.........here comes the cool part.......come back here next year to take me in.......yeah babeh!!!!!
and who the fuck ended my poll?....
the first thing that comes to my mind is b*log()+x......well the fact that this comes first to my mind is another matter....i can already hear a million voices from my wing chanting "thoku..thoku..." and one particular entity ready with a few drops of water in his hand....the purpose being...to short circuit my ics by pouring the water on my head....
you think who is this nincompoop...!!?? METAL (singla) of course...!!
and what came second....i'll get back to that....!
--'lone thok show gorr'
thriving where no thok could survive before
From the office of the assistant clerk(Municipality Hospital)
".....and hence the fact that the town of kgp had its first ever blonde birth in so many years of yearning (these desi bastards never come back)......"
dated: 3rd of Dec,2000
from the 0what spook files..
it was the july of 2000 when i walked out of my first ever registration session at iitkgp, as an as-of-yet-ungrown bundle of unsurity (a. if there is such a word and b. if it doesnt mean 'the state of being more physically intimidating than kunal sur'), i was increasingly falling prey to a feeling of skepticism about finding anything real and reassuring about this place. and just then, i see a six foot tall home grown blonde cycling down scholars' avenue with a tiny two year old blonde tucked away safely in a bird cage at her rear, much like a blonde lost in the wilderness of a humid subtropical developing country (in fact, EXACTLY like one). i still remember it vividly cuz the sheer cherubicity of the child's face hit me like a cool pre monsoon sea breeze, and left me sneezing a week to follow.
of course the hustle bustle of daily life at kgp did draw me far from everything that had nothing to do with lab records and rotating machines and inter halls. and so i soon grew to forget all about the little blonde baby that once filled my heart with joy (with the common cold as a freeby).i did of course keep spotting the big one and the tiny one cycling down the avenue a countless number of times, but alas it was always when i was already 11 minutes late to class and had no time at all to bother myself about a blonde and another blonde.
its now the autumn of 2003, and the date of my final goodbye to this place approaches me at the blinding pace of time. and tell u what, i just saw the same blonde with her child once again cycling down the same avenue on the same damned bicycle and i finally threw one glance at the little kid for the first time in three years. and i was stunned. she hadnt changed one bit, and suddenly my mind was flooded by a feeling of deja vu that threatened to engulf me in my entirety (which isnt much you wud say but that's still a thought).
three years in the life of an infant are like an era. when i was that size i went from peanut to bulldozer in about that much time. and to think that this little blonde thing hadnt changed at all in all these years gives me three distinct feelings :
a. the teeny blonde is in fact a stuffed toy, in which case we can all relax.
b. the teeny blonde is in fact a ghost that is kept locked up in the cellar by her wicked momma, who takes her out for one round of the 2.2 every evening (which explains why i only see her cycling one way and NEVER the other)
c. the world is in fact full of ghosts and i am the only person alive, in which case again, we can all relax.
based on a true story..
There has been a rumor floating.....
"Good looking girls around the world are being abducted for their facial hair.It turns out that the whole ugly community has denied ne connection with the aforesaid acts of extreme perversion and hatred."
"But all of us know this all too well that wherever u have crimes committed against REAL cool looking people...they are more often than not perpetrated by these beauty deficient bitches.Then again we all know it may afterall be a rumor."
The tidings regarding the denials of the ugly sorority are waiting dearly to be proven by hard evidence.They are very unlikely to deny such an act of bravery (for them) and altruism (again, for them).