Disclaimer: This is not penned with a malicious intent neither does this to seek to defame any person, whether living or dead. Any resemblance to any person or persons is purely coincidental and is deeply regretted:P
Now as this is my blog and I have full rights to post anything, I risk being branded as a Male Chauvinist Prick by the aforementioned sex in order to express some of my observations.
Now that I cant claim to have a vast experience of the other sex, these observations are just a collective experience of myself, friends and also a reputed youth writer. I welcome suggestions and explanations from the other sex to help me better understand them and clarify some of my pre-conceived notions. Anyways let me begin without much further ado.
1. Have you ever noticed that when you need utmost quiet and need to sort out things with yourself that's the precise moment you get asked " Why are you so quiet?". And just when you have decided to unveil all your secrets to the person thats exactly when you are asked to shut up.
2. Have you also ever noticed that most of the sentences between you two start and end with so. The sentences generally start with her telling So.... and they generally end with you explaining ....So. Or they might end with her saying " I told you so.."
3. Can anyone explain me why the tear glands of men are nearly vestigial organs while they work with redoubled vigour in case of women? You see men always start off with a disadvantage in an argument or something like that. And yet women are the weaker sex. Personally I suggest counting sheep or seconds is a very good idea when you are in the middle of such a tear-fiesta.
4. Also while each and every tiny little fault that you have comes under extreme scrutiny, you dont have any right to question any habits of theirs. Hell breaks loose if you tell them that you dont like something that they have done.
5. And if you are late for a date or a phone call, the Lord may save you. A verbal assault is inevitable. But if they are late for some appointment dont expect a sorry or whatever. Infact get ready to hear it sound as if it was your fault. Coz some bloody fool invented some crappy system called chivalry some 1000 years ago.
6. And what about the urban myth that girls behave like long lost sisters when they meet, but bitch about each other in private?
7. Probably I should not venture into some of the more inexplicable and other-worldly behaviours of girls like drawling out words, baby talk, giving cheesy, stupid nicknames, the fluttering of eyes, the collective shrieks of joy or the use of five differently colored pens to embellish their copies and records.
8. Another disconcerting fact is that girls always bemoan and wail about a endangered species called " Suitable Boyfriend". Maybe they expect something of a knight in shining armour. Sorry to disappoint you girls, you only find stuffed knights in armour in museum's nowadays.
And to potential boyfriends one tip from the movie "Just Friends": Please dont let the relation glide into that Friend Zone. You see once the girl considers you as your friend, your dating possibilities are screwed. Harry and Sally only exist on the silver screen.
9. And yes women play God these days. The adage " Man proposes. God disposes" is history. Today's saying is " Men propose. Women dispose".
10. But no need to despair folks. Coz evolution is on our side. The class stud or the football jock might get to date the prettiest chick, but when its time for marriage women go for the fattest chicken. And in our fucked-up society her daddy helps her find one. As The Worm says " In the poker of life women are the biggest rake".
I also believe all these feminists shouting all that crap about equal rights and all dont believe in it themselvs. They are the one who campaign about being the weaker sex and enforce the idea that women deserve some special privilege for being themselves. The moment you treat them as equals you get looked down upon as a chauvinist.
Yet, after writing all this I wish I was wrong about everything I said. It kills me to admit that girls make this world a little more beautiful place to live in. At least 3 years of Engg. have taught me that.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Howlers
After a long hiatus I return to a pet topic, Prof Bashing.
Some excerpts from our dear Profs
Physics HOD: Matter and Energy are two forms of the same thing. For example take a male boy and a female boy.
Now the next Prof boasts of a lot of enlightening comments. The stuff is more of NIT lore now.
Maths Prof: Yesterday I saw you in the market with my wife.
Maths Prof: Close the windows. There are a lot of atmospheric noises coming in.
( On the construction work going on upstairs)
Maths Prof: Its hot. Open the windows and let the atmosphere come in.
Maths Prof: Give me a red pen of any color.
Electrical HOD: Its very simple. Just multiply the 2 elements of the 2*2 matrix.
( On being told that the microprocessor kits were not giving results in case of matrix multiplication)
I desist from any further comments on this topic.
Some excerpts from our dear Profs
Physics HOD: Matter and Energy are two forms of the same thing. For example take a male boy and a female boy.
Now the next Prof boasts of a lot of enlightening comments. The stuff is more of NIT lore now.
Maths Prof: Yesterday I saw you in the market with my wife.
Maths Prof: Close the windows. There are a lot of atmospheric noises coming in.
( On the construction work going on upstairs)
Maths Prof: Its hot. Open the windows and let the atmosphere come in.
Maths Prof: Give me a red pen of any color.
Electrical HOD: Its very simple. Just multiply the 2 elements of the 2*2 matrix.
( On being told that the microprocessor kits were not giving results in case of matrix multiplication)
I desist from any further comments on this topic.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
My Bucket List
I recently watched the Bucket List, a beautiful movie starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman about two terminally ill patients who make a bucket list, that encompasses everything they wish to do before they kick the bucket.
Now I am not a morbid personality neither I am too fascinated or concerned about death. Nevertheless I got intrigued about the idea. Now making lists is one of the most hackneyed ideas of all times. I myself admit being obsessed with making lists. Half my life has been spent in making lists including to-do lists, New Year lists, things to achieve lists, I wont repeat this lists, crush lists et al. I even had a friend who had a list of all the women he had jacked off to. And the best part of it is that you make the list on a paper and not on your conscience.
Anyways I spent one afternoon ruminating on my Bucket List and this is what I came up with.
1. Streak during the Director’s address at Convocation 2010 and coincidentally the Golden Jubilee of the Institute.
Yeah that’s what the bastard deserves. A heavenly glimpse of my epic ass.
2. Get a Master’s degree in English Literature from Oxford(where else) :P
Well Engg life is so boring I guess everyone wishes he had a degree in some other field other than Engg.
3. Attend the Rio Carnival.
Samba, Bikini babes, the Sand and the Sea, Christ Redeemer. As sultry as a vacation can become.
4. Headbang at a Metallica concert.
This item on the list is going to be crossed off as soon as Metallica confirm a tour of India.
5. Write a book that preferably makes me rich and famous.
6. A date with Kate Winslet.
Yeah yeah. I am obsessed with her. But you see she is the most beautiful woman in the world.
7. A full body massage from Monica Bellucci.
And she happens to be the sexiest.
8. Go bungee jumping.
Have always wanted to experience free fall, that rush of blood into the head and heart stopping exhilaration.
9. Help save the sharks from extinction.
Jaws was a crap of a movie and more men die of stupidity than shark attacks.
10. A trip across the Great Australian Outback.
Crocs, Snakes, Ayers Rock, Aborigines and a hell of an adventure.
11. Getting marooned on a Coral Island for a week.
I think this will be on the list of anyone who has read the R.M Ballantyne classic.
12. Create a comic strip.
I have enough experience I think, 3 years have been spent doing cartoons in class.
13. Direct a movie.
With the plagiarized crap dished out by Bollywood every year, I am sure I can do a better job. If Karan Johar can make movies so can I.
14. Peek down at the Colorado river from atop the Grand Canyon.
15. Experience all the cuisines of the world.
Cant help it. I am an epicure and dying for good food after 3 years in this measly place.
16. Develop an athletic figure.
With half my life being bestowed with nicknames of varying rudeness due to the fact that I am plump(not intended as an euphemism), I want to experience hpw it feels to have a pack of abs.
17. Go on a backpacking trip across the Himalayas.
This is on the cards for next summer. Hope that no body chickens out at the last minute.
18. Learn to play the guitar.
It has been on this list since I heard Pink Floyd.
19. Have a personal library.
20. Spend a day at the Louvre.
21. Fall in love.
And that my friends, will be the biggest adventure of all
22. Convince Dad to quit his job and go freelance journalism.
23. Go on a world tour with my sweetheart.
No explanations.
24. Watch the world pass by.
The biggest leisure of all.
25. Witness a miracle.
Now I am not a morbid personality neither I am too fascinated or concerned about death. Nevertheless I got intrigued about the idea. Now making lists is one of the most hackneyed ideas of all times. I myself admit being obsessed with making lists. Half my life has been spent in making lists including to-do lists, New Year lists, things to achieve lists, I wont repeat this lists, crush lists et al. I even had a friend who had a list of all the women he had jacked off to. And the best part of it is that you make the list on a paper and not on your conscience.
Anyways I spent one afternoon ruminating on my Bucket List and this is what I came up with.
1. Streak during the Director’s address at Convocation 2010 and coincidentally the Golden Jubilee of the Institute.
Yeah that’s what the bastard deserves. A heavenly glimpse of my epic ass.
2. Get a Master’s degree in English Literature from Oxford(where else) :P
Well Engg life is so boring I guess everyone wishes he had a degree in some other field other than Engg.
3. Attend the Rio Carnival.
Samba, Bikini babes, the Sand and the Sea, Christ Redeemer. As sultry as a vacation can become.
4. Headbang at a Metallica concert.
This item on the list is going to be crossed off as soon as Metallica confirm a tour of India.
5. Write a book that preferably makes me rich and famous.
6. A date with Kate Winslet.
Yeah yeah. I am obsessed with her. But you see she is the most beautiful woman in the world.
7. A full body massage from Monica Bellucci.
And she happens to be the sexiest.
8. Go bungee jumping.
Have always wanted to experience free fall, that rush of blood into the head and heart stopping exhilaration.
9. Help save the sharks from extinction.
Jaws was a crap of a movie and more men die of stupidity than shark attacks.
10. A trip across the Great Australian Outback.
Crocs, Snakes, Ayers Rock, Aborigines and a hell of an adventure.
11. Getting marooned on a Coral Island for a week.
I think this will be on the list of anyone who has read the R.M Ballantyne classic.
12. Create a comic strip.
I have enough experience I think, 3 years have been spent doing cartoons in class.
13. Direct a movie.
With the plagiarized crap dished out by Bollywood every year, I am sure I can do a better job. If Karan Johar can make movies so can I.
14. Peek down at the Colorado river from atop the Grand Canyon.
15. Experience all the cuisines of the world.
Cant help it. I am an epicure and dying for good food after 3 years in this measly place.
16. Develop an athletic figure.
With half my life being bestowed with nicknames of varying rudeness due to the fact that I am plump(not intended as an euphemism), I want to experience hpw it feels to have a pack of abs.
17. Go on a backpacking trip across the Himalayas.
This is on the cards for next summer. Hope that no body chickens out at the last minute.
18. Learn to play the guitar.
It has been on this list since I heard Pink Floyd.
19. Have a personal library.
20. Spend a day at the Louvre.
21. Fall in love.
And that my friends, will be the biggest adventure of all
22. Convince Dad to quit his job and go freelance journalism.
23. Go on a world tour with my sweetheart.
No explanations.
24. Watch the world pass by.
The biggest leisure of all.
25. Witness a miracle.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Back in Black
And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.
And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.
And this was the genesis of the age-old dichotomy between light and dark or white and black. As humankind has always been obsequious to the will of God it has always taken the stand of God. This dichotomy has been the cornerstone of all the philosophies and symbolisms of the world. White is pure, truth, peace, clean and humble. And black has been denigrated as evil, death, fear and anarchy.
My black has always been pure. It has its own existence and self, unpolluted by others, unlike white which has a second-hand existence living within others. It is independent, devoid of the impressions and stains left by others.
My black is sophisticated. It is stunning in an evening gown studded with glittering diamonds or stylish in a tuxedo for a black tie occasion. It is sexy and seductive accentuating the voluptuousness of the lady of my lonely nights. It is mysterious as the solitary nights lighted by just the twinkling stars.
It smacks of rebellion and youth. It defies convention in my black t-shirts portraying Che and a myriad rock bands. It shocks in the angry beats of my favorite black metal bands. It is the clothing adopted by the punk subculture. It is the symbol of protest against tyranny and dominion. It is success and intellect reminding the day of black robes and caps to be thrown in jubilation and trepidation of crossing the threshold of an old life and stepping into a new, unknown one.
It is as paradoxical as me. It is conventional and sober as the judges on lofty seats of justice. It is somber as the tolling of a bell, the hearse and the casket in which the put or remains until you have crumbled to dust and passed away from living memory.
It has been synonymous with this phase of my life. It has made the grays of my life a little more tolerable by offering a fair contrast. It has put my life in perspective making me composed in the days of the darkest gloom and prevented me from getting inebriated in the little flickers of success I have had. Black is the color of my life.
And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.
And this was the genesis of the age-old dichotomy between light and dark or white and black. As humankind has always been obsequious to the will of God it has always taken the stand of God. This dichotomy has been the cornerstone of all the philosophies and symbolisms of the world. White is pure, truth, peace, clean and humble. And black has been denigrated as evil, death, fear and anarchy.
My black has always been pure. It has its own existence and self, unpolluted by others, unlike white which has a second-hand existence living within others. It is independent, devoid of the impressions and stains left by others.
My black is sophisticated. It is stunning in an evening gown studded with glittering diamonds or stylish in a tuxedo for a black tie occasion. It is sexy and seductive accentuating the voluptuousness of the lady of my lonely nights. It is mysterious as the solitary nights lighted by just the twinkling stars.
It smacks of rebellion and youth. It defies convention in my black t-shirts portraying Che and a myriad rock bands. It shocks in the angry beats of my favorite black metal bands. It is the clothing adopted by the punk subculture. It is the symbol of protest against tyranny and dominion. It is success and intellect reminding the day of black robes and caps to be thrown in jubilation and trepidation of crossing the threshold of an old life and stepping into a new, unknown one.
It is as paradoxical as me. It is conventional and sober as the judges on lofty seats of justice. It is somber as the tolling of a bell, the hearse and the casket in which the put or remains until you have crumbled to dust and passed away from living memory.
It has been synonymous with this phase of my life. It has made the grays of my life a little more tolerable by offering a fair contrast. It has put my life in perspective making me composed in the days of the darkest gloom and prevented me from getting inebriated in the little flickers of success I have had. Black is the color of my life.
Monday, May 11, 2009
The Tale of my Spectacles
I remember the day I got my spectacles. Not that I needed them. The privilege of being a topper and the apathy of Stewart School teachers had long since made me immune to the fallouts of not listening in class. I will confess now. I got bespectacled coz my prevailing crush that time also started wearing glasses. Now don't ask me the logic behind all of it. Love, Infatuation in fact the entire genre is more stupid than blind.
Anyways within a few days of wearing the glasses, my crush was transferred to another girl who dint wear glasses.I also realised that I should have had a frame-less one done as it was the current rage. But thanks to two of my Neanderthal friends I was relieved of my spectacled woes when they found out that it was a shiny toy and could be substituted for a ball. Crashhh!!!
By the time I had the next pair I was discovering that I had to squeeze my eyes to slits to be able to see from the last bench(Now why I dint relocate to the first bench has been dealt with in my post We, The Backbenchers). By this time the power was somewhere in the range of -1.5. By this time people were beginning to identify me in Dumb-Charades when somebody aped that painful expression on my face when I wanted to see something at a distance. Anyways this pair also dint last long. I knelt over it as it was lying on my side while trying to reach for a book.
Another year passed. I entered engineering. Now I was even more loath to wear glasses as all my time in classes was spent napping. Besides all the money is diverted into more aesthetic pleasures such as smoking and drinking. Who is going to fork out a half a grand for a pair of glasses.
Now I had become used to people aping me and making fun of me. But what really hurt was the painful and accusing glances on the faces of my quiz partners when I couldn't ID Gene Kelly of "Singin in the Rain" fame. Matters really came to a head when after I uttered these memorable lines in Konark " Hey hey. Is that a gal in black shalwar over there. Plzz tell me if she is beautiful". This when every guy in the group was checking out that gal only. Really mortifying experience. Wont elaborate more.
So I had a third pair done. You may ask why I dint have a spare. No cash people and I couldn't offer that explanation to my parents as I was supposed to have not one but two spare pairs. But I had diverted the funds into more fruitful activities.
Anyhow the third pair also broke. I forget how, as it was getting too commonplace an event.
The next pair lasted a little more than 6 months. It survived the frenzied headbanging of the Opeth concert and trekking in Shillong but not a group hug. Someone became overtly sentimental and my glasses were knocked off.
I haven't had a pair made yet. And my power has surreptitiously grown to -2.25. Motivationally challenged, thats what I am. But the infuriatingly tiny print of my copy of The Fountainhead is making me go bonkers. So I have decided I will go in for my fifth pair today. Let us see how long this one lasts. And I think I have stumbled upon a truth. It is more from our carelessness than the natural deterioration of our eyes that keep the Optician's shop open.
Anyways within a few days of wearing the glasses, my crush was transferred to another girl who dint wear glasses.I also realised that I should have had a frame-less one done as it was the current rage. But thanks to two of my Neanderthal friends I was relieved of my spectacled woes when they found out that it was a shiny toy and could be substituted for a ball. Crashhh!!!
By the time I had the next pair I was discovering that I had to squeeze my eyes to slits to be able to see from the last bench(Now why I dint relocate to the first bench has been dealt with in my post We, The Backbenchers). By this time the power was somewhere in the range of -1.5. By this time people were beginning to identify me in Dumb-Charades when somebody aped that painful expression on my face when I wanted to see something at a distance. Anyways this pair also dint last long. I knelt over it as it was lying on my side while trying to reach for a book.
Another year passed. I entered engineering. Now I was even more loath to wear glasses as all my time in classes was spent napping. Besides all the money is diverted into more aesthetic pleasures such as smoking and drinking. Who is going to fork out a half a grand for a pair of glasses.
Now I had become used to people aping me and making fun of me. But what really hurt was the painful and accusing glances on the faces of my quiz partners when I couldn't ID Gene Kelly of "Singin in the Rain" fame. Matters really came to a head when after I uttered these memorable lines in Konark " Hey hey. Is that a gal in black shalwar over there. Plzz tell me if she is beautiful". This when every guy in the group was checking out that gal only. Really mortifying experience. Wont elaborate more.
So I had a third pair done. You may ask why I dint have a spare. No cash people and I couldn't offer that explanation to my parents as I was supposed to have not one but two spare pairs. But I had diverted the funds into more fruitful activities.
Anyhow the third pair also broke. I forget how, as it was getting too commonplace an event.
The next pair lasted a little more than 6 months. It survived the frenzied headbanging of the Opeth concert and trekking in Shillong but not a group hug. Someone became overtly sentimental and my glasses were knocked off.
I haven't had a pair made yet. And my power has surreptitiously grown to -2.25. Motivationally challenged, thats what I am. But the infuriatingly tiny print of my copy of The Fountainhead is making me go bonkers. So I have decided I will go in for my fifth pair today. Let us see how long this one lasts. And I think I have stumbled upon a truth. It is more from our carelessness than the natural deterioration of our eyes that keep the Optician's shop open.
Survival Strategies...
I think these lines are more apt than any other for a contented life.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot
The world forgetting by the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of a spotless mind
Each prayer accepted n each wish resigned
Lines 207-210
Eloisa and Abelard, Alexander Pope
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot
The world forgetting by the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of a spotless mind
Each prayer accepted n each wish resigned
Lines 207-210
Eloisa and Abelard, Alexander Pope
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Name Blames
My name is Rashmi Ranjan Nayak. Of all the names available in the Oriya pantheon my parents had to choose this one. Now after spending 22 years of my troubled existence with this name stamped on me, I have reconciled with the fact that my name will always sound feminine.
Yes, of all my petty woes this not the least. I still cringe when I see the ludicrous looks on an acquaintance from another state when he hears of my name. I can feel the perplexed mirth rising in him. I also remember some of my certificates being christened as Miss Rashmi Ranjan Nayak. Asinine and visually impaired, the fools couldn't probably place the Ranjan part of my name. But I am not speaking of assholes now. The most mortifying moment arises when you have a girl in your company named Rashmi.At those junctures of life, you just wish you were any commonplace Anil, Rahul, Rajesh, Sunil or whatever but this.
I feel happy when I meet some of my namesakes(mind you male ones). I feel an undercurrent of empathy and solidarity with them. In the days when Orkut was becoming a rage and your social standing was measured directly proportional to the number of scraps and fans, I used to be a member of a community named "My name is Rashmi". Anyways I left this community on realising that a majority of the members were girls.
I once tried to delve deeper into this morbid fascination of naming boys with feminine names. Examples abound from my own name to Jyoti which can be juxtaposed with Prakash or Ranjan. Then you have Debi. I have known Debidutts, Debi Prasannas to Debi Prasads. Nishis, Laxmis and Deeptis are also common in Oriya households. But my name takes the cake in sounding most feminine.
Every feminine first name is accompanied with a feeble masculine middle name. Well the truth is in this modern world obsessed with acronyms and short forms the middle name is generally lost. When the English language is itself under threat, what chance do our petty names stand.
And the reason behind this antiquated custom. Apparently Oriya people are of the opinion that men with feminine names have lady luck shining upon them. Yeah the shine is almost a glare and I am blinded by it.
P.S. I think I know why I am blinded. Etymology suggests Rashmi means the sun's rays and Rashmi Ranjan is the sun itself. LOL
Yes, of all my petty woes this not the least. I still cringe when I see the ludicrous looks on an acquaintance from another state when he hears of my name. I can feel the perplexed mirth rising in him. I also remember some of my certificates being christened as Miss Rashmi Ranjan Nayak. Asinine and visually impaired, the fools couldn't probably place the Ranjan part of my name. But I am not speaking of assholes now. The most mortifying moment arises when you have a girl in your company named Rashmi.At those junctures of life, you just wish you were any commonplace Anil, Rahul, Rajesh, Sunil or whatever but this.
I feel happy when I meet some of my namesakes(mind you male ones). I feel an undercurrent of empathy and solidarity with them. In the days when Orkut was becoming a rage and your social standing was measured directly proportional to the number of scraps and fans, I used to be a member of a community named "My name is Rashmi". Anyways I left this community on realising that a majority of the members were girls.
I once tried to delve deeper into this morbid fascination of naming boys with feminine names. Examples abound from my own name to Jyoti which can be juxtaposed with Prakash or Ranjan. Then you have Debi. I have known Debidutts, Debi Prasannas to Debi Prasads. Nishis, Laxmis and Deeptis are also common in Oriya households. But my name takes the cake in sounding most feminine.
Every feminine first name is accompanied with a feeble masculine middle name. Well the truth is in this modern world obsessed with acronyms and short forms the middle name is generally lost. When the English language is itself under threat, what chance do our petty names stand.
And the reason behind this antiquated custom. Apparently Oriya people are of the opinion that men with feminine names have lady luck shining upon them. Yeah the shine is almost a glare and I am blinded by it.
P.S. I think I know why I am blinded. Etymology suggests Rashmi means the sun's rays and Rashmi Ranjan is the sun itself. LOL
Saturday, May 9, 2009
A Treatise on the various slangs of Modern India
XXX-RATED!!!PROFANE CONTENT
READER’S DISCRETION IS DEEPLY ADVISED
Engineering institutes have such an oxymoronic existence. Glassy, multicoloured facades harboring dulled, grey brains inside. Wide, smooth roads going hand in hand with a ban on bikes. An incredible 20:1 ratio of boys:girls ratio. I suspect this ratio is more skewed if we take the ratio of (males+non-males):females. Galore of PhD holders who cant teach without peeking into chits every 5 seconds. Students who had more knowledge when they came in than when they pass out. Mess food that when consumed tries to defy the natural law of gravitation and comes out from the mouth rather than coming out from the ass. Slangs being the first words you get to imbibe from the mind boggling medley of languages.
Now slangs are hardly used literally. Rather they are used as punctuation, or emphasis, as innocuous a word as 'shit' or 'damn' or just a means of beckoning or referring to someone. Slangs can be endearing or really dirty. And the most fascinating fact about slangs is their common etymology and subject matter.
A very astute observation was made in Maximum City by Suketu Mehta. “The different countries of India can be identified by the way each pronounces the word bhenchod- from the Punjabi bhaenchod to the thin Bambaiyya pinchud to the Gujarati bhenchow to the Bhopali elaboration bhen-ka-lowda. Parsis use it all the time, grandmothers, five-year-olds, casually and without any discernible purpose except as filler: 'Here, bhenchod, get me a glass of water.' 'Arre, bhenchod, I went to the bhenchod bank today.”
By far the funniest and sweetest slangs that I have heard are from my Assamese friends. Its almost lyrical in composition and involves the juxtaposition of a lot of profanity. One of my favorites goes like this “maksudu sudirbhai bhonieksuda kotimora rokatkhuwa”. When translated it reads motherfucker brotherfucker sisterfucker………… The rest is too gross to go on. But the most famous assamese slang that will be etched in our memories is bal, the name with which one of my friends has been christened with. Its sister language Bengali possesses fewer expletives the most common one being bokachoda, or foolfucker or Khankir Chele meaning son of a bitch .
I personally find Oriya slangs a bit more coarse than Assamese and Bengali . The most popular ones being maghia, or motherfucker; or chhodipua, whose origins are very obscure and cannot be accurately verified. Gandimara or assfucker also reigns among some people. And there is also the punctuation slang banda meaning cock. But lets gloss over the remaining ones and go south.
Now my interaction with people from south is quite limited, mostly restricted to the indomitable gultis. Now the term gulti itself is a portmanteau slang according to popular literature but I cannot be sure. Gultis here have byfar adopted Hindi and Oriya slangs. The only discernible profanity from Telegu is lanja kodaka or son of a bitch. Now my gulti friends did not offer further co-operation in the debasing of their language. Down further south I am aware of just two slangs, Kunji Poo or a cock turd and mair meaning pubic hair. Incidendentally mair finds a place in our unofficial NIT Rourkela slogan.
Finally I come to the Hindi heartland, home to the most popular profanities. Suketu has already given a fine testimony to bhenchod. I need not describe more. Other than bhenchod we have got machod or in Bhojpuri madarjat, popularised by Ajay Devgan in the cult movie Gangajaal. Related slangs include maa-ki-ankh or maa-ka-bhosda or maa-ka lawda or maa-ki-chut. I haven’t gone deep into the etymology of bhosda so cant help with its meaning. Then there is randi-ka-pilla, jhaantu, gaandu, bhosdiwale, laude-ka-bal, betichod, tharki etc. Of course punctuaction slangs are galore like lund, lauda, chut, choddu etc. But the most common and loved slang is chusega mera or chus which of course means suck my dick. Men really do have a fetish for oral ministrations.
Anyways wrapping up, I feel that although these slangs can be very easily related to their anglicized versions they are deigned as uncouth, coarse and vulgar. People find motherfucker easier to say than madarchod. Probably many are under the illusion that hurling profanities in english makes you more polished, urbane and coool. Fool’s Paradise eh! :P
READER’S DISCRETION IS DEEPLY ADVISED
Engineering institutes have such an oxymoronic existence. Glassy, multicoloured facades harboring dulled, grey brains inside. Wide, smooth roads going hand in hand with a ban on bikes. An incredible 20:1 ratio of boys:girls ratio. I suspect this ratio is more skewed if we take the ratio of (males+non-males):females. Galore of PhD holders who cant teach without peeking into chits every 5 seconds. Students who had more knowledge when they came in than when they pass out. Mess food that when consumed tries to defy the natural law of gravitation and comes out from the mouth rather than coming out from the ass. Slangs being the first words you get to imbibe from the mind boggling medley of languages.
Now slangs are hardly used literally. Rather they are used as punctuation, or emphasis, as innocuous a word as 'shit' or 'damn' or just a means of beckoning or referring to someone. Slangs can be endearing or really dirty. And the most fascinating fact about slangs is their common etymology and subject matter.
A very astute observation was made in Maximum City by Suketu Mehta. “The different countries of India can be identified by the way each pronounces the word bhenchod- from the Punjabi bhaenchod to the thin Bambaiyya pinchud to the Gujarati bhenchow to the Bhopali elaboration bhen-ka-lowda. Parsis use it all the time, grandmothers, five-year-olds, casually and without any discernible purpose except as filler: 'Here, bhenchod, get me a glass of water.' 'Arre, bhenchod, I went to the bhenchod bank today.”
By far the funniest and sweetest slangs that I have heard are from my Assamese friends. Its almost lyrical in composition and involves the juxtaposition of a lot of profanity. One of my favorites goes like this “maksudu sudirbhai bhonieksuda kotimora rokatkhuwa”. When translated it reads motherfucker brotherfucker sisterfucker………… The rest is too gross to go on. But the most famous assamese slang that will be etched in our memories is bal, the name with which one of my friends has been christened with. Its sister language Bengali possesses fewer expletives the most common one being bokachoda, or foolfucker or Khankir Chele meaning son of a bitch .
I personally find Oriya slangs a bit more coarse than Assamese and Bengali . The most popular ones being maghia, or motherfucker; or chhodipua, whose origins are very obscure and cannot be accurately verified. Gandimara or assfucker also reigns among some people. And there is also the punctuation slang banda meaning cock. But lets gloss over the remaining ones and go south.
Now my interaction with people from south is quite limited, mostly restricted to the indomitable gultis. Now the term gulti itself is a portmanteau slang according to popular literature but I cannot be sure. Gultis here have byfar adopted Hindi and Oriya slangs. The only discernible profanity from Telegu is lanja kodaka or son of a bitch. Now my gulti friends did not offer further co-operation in the debasing of their language. Down further south I am aware of just two slangs, Kunji Poo or a cock turd and mair meaning pubic hair. Incidendentally mair finds a place in our unofficial NIT Rourkela slogan.
Finally I come to the Hindi heartland, home to the most popular profanities. Suketu has already given a fine testimony to bhenchod. I need not describe more. Other than bhenchod we have got machod or in Bhojpuri madarjat, popularised by Ajay Devgan in the cult movie Gangajaal. Related slangs include maa-ki-ankh or maa-ka-bhosda or maa-ka lawda or maa-ki-chut. I haven’t gone deep into the etymology of bhosda so cant help with its meaning. Then there is randi-ka-pilla, jhaantu, gaandu, bhosdiwale, laude-ka-bal, betichod, tharki etc. Of course punctuaction slangs are galore like lund, lauda, chut, choddu etc. But the most common and loved slang is chusega mera or chus which of course means suck my dick. Men really do have a fetish for oral ministrations.
Anyways wrapping up, I feel that although these slangs can be very easily related to their anglicized versions they are deigned as uncouth, coarse and vulgar. People find motherfucker easier to say than madarchod. Probably many are under the illusion that hurling profanities in english makes you more polished, urbane and coool. Fool’s Paradise eh! :P
Friday, May 8, 2009
Of Visual and Hormonal Gratification
One day I heard this in passing " Beauty is skin-deep but ugliness goes right through to the bones". Now I am not being a sexist but after spending three years in a government engineering college I know how to call a spade a spade. " Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder" said Keats. I think if Keats were to spend one year in this college then he wouldn't care much to sound politically correct. So bereft of any visual gratification I look up to the celluloid to calm my agonized hormones.
Now suppose I had a surreal experience like that of Hugh Grant in Notting Hill, I really wouldn't have given a damn who the screen goddess was. But coz I am the one writing this blog instead of any other screenplay writer I get to select my favorites. Here are my TOP 15. Kate Winslet reigns, rest are not in any particular order.
KATE WINSLET
"Tis indeed a miracle, one must feel, that such a heavenly creature is real". She stepped into stardom in Heavenly Creatures with this famous line. I have been in love with her since 1997 ever since the titan-red haired beauty Rose DeWitt Bukater gazed with apprehension at the massive bulk of Titanic. There is simply no woman on earth who can compare with this ethereal beauty. No actress brings the screen to life as her, no one sets up such a tangible connection with the audience as her.
May it be her bohemian roles in Quills or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or a caring mother in Finding Neverland,a condemned SS Guard in The Reader or a woman whose marital life is in shambles as in Revolutionary Road, there is unmatched pleasure in the simple act of watching her.
NICOLE KIDMAN
A pretty face in Days of Thunder, I had not noticed her much until the sultry scenes in Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut. I had not been aroused that much since the scene where Kate Winslet poses nude in Titanic. But then I was blasted off my feet by Moulin Rouge. Man what a musical!! Then my respect for the histrionic skills of this long legged beauty grew with her brilliant performances in The Others, The Hours and Cold Mountain.
JULIA ROBERTS
She is not that a beauty. Truth be spoken, I don't like the lanky and gawky look.
But what would I not give for a date with Vivian Ward of Pretty Woman( arguably the most famous hooker of all times) or Anna Scott of Notting Hall. Boy that " I am just a girl asking a boy to love her" line nearly moved me to tears. :P
ANGELINA JOLIE
Forget her movies. Her histrionic skills only impress in The Changeling and the classic Girl, Interrupted. But those pouty lips which invite legions of men to drown in them, those sultry looks and that figure to die for, these are my main interests in a Jolie starrer. And yeah I don't think I need to mention Original Sin. Did they use body doubles in those extensive scenes? :P
MEG RYAN
Not just America's sweetheart but mine too. No one plays that girl next door image better than this doe-eyed beauty. That fake orgasm in When Harry met Sally to the so confused girl in Sleepless in Seattle to the pugnacious book store owner in You've got Mail she always captures the heart with her pasty pudding looks, that heart warming smile and a good dose of romance and comedy.
CATHERINE ZETA-JONES
Well I also don't remember her much for her acting skills. Barring Traffic, Intolerable Cruelty and Chicago there have rarely been eye-catching performances from her. But she is grace and imperiousness personified and possesses an incredible screen persona.
SHARON STONE
Nothing much to say about her than that famous leg crossing scene in Basic Instinct. Personally I thought the movie conveyed more trauma and pain in its erotic scenes rather than lust.
RENEE ZELLWEGER
Her diminutive eyes and chubby countenance make up for a heady combination that never fails to allure you. From Jerry Maguire, Casino, Bridget Jone's Diary and Cold Mountain I have always enjoyed watching her.
MERYL STREEP
She is not a beauty but what an actress she is!!! Her mere presence lifts a movie out of mediocrity and she has got an unprecedented 15 Academy Awards nominations to do the talking for her.
JULIANNE MOORE
She is so goddamn beautiful. Heart-breaking even at this age, her divine presence is unforgettable in Boogie Nights, The Hours and Far from Heaven. In the last mentioned movie she probably delivered one of the most remarkable performances in recent memory.
AUDREY TATOU
Probably the best known french actress, her performance in Amelie left one short of words. Her sweet, cute and ludicrous imagination combined for a character which not only garnered rave reviews but also etched herself forever in the audience's minds. Why the Oscar went to No Man's Land is unfathomable.
RACHEL WEISZ
Along with Kate Winslet she is the one actress I would give my arm away for a date. Quite underrated,her roles in The Constant Gardener, About a Boy and Runaway Jury are quite commendable besides the unforgettable Mummy.
LIV TYLER
Just one scene in Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring where her character Arwen challenges the Nine to cross the river and claim Frodo. The rest is cinematic nirvana. That timbre in her voice and that haunting beauty.
MARISA TOMEI
No had stripped better since Demi Moore when Marisa Tomei bared all in The Wrestler. I think she deserved an Oscar for this performance more than My Cousin Vinny where she is almost unrecognizable. She also looked gorgeous in Anger Management and What Women Want.
MONICA BELLUCCI
Last but not the least, Monica Bellucci is the sexiest woman alive. My first memories of her are from a photo shoot where she was only clad with caviar leaving little to imagination. What a subject for the camera!
Now suppose I had a surreal experience like that of Hugh Grant in Notting Hill, I really wouldn't have given a damn who the screen goddess was. But coz I am the one writing this blog instead of any other screenplay writer I get to select my favorites. Here are my TOP 15. Kate Winslet reigns, rest are not in any particular order.
KATE WINSLET
"Tis indeed a miracle, one must feel, that such a heavenly creature is real". She stepped into stardom in Heavenly Creatures with this famous line. I have been in love with her since 1997 ever since the titan-red haired beauty Rose DeWitt Bukater gazed with apprehension at the massive bulk of Titanic. There is simply no woman on earth who can compare with this ethereal beauty. No actress brings the screen to life as her, no one sets up such a tangible connection with the audience as her.
May it be her bohemian roles in Quills or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or a caring mother in Finding Neverland,a condemned SS Guard in The Reader or a woman whose marital life is in shambles as in Revolutionary Road, there is unmatched pleasure in the simple act of watching her.
NICOLE KIDMAN
A pretty face in Days of Thunder, I had not noticed her much until the sultry scenes in Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut. I had not been aroused that much since the scene where Kate Winslet poses nude in Titanic. But then I was blasted off my feet by Moulin Rouge. Man what a musical!! Then my respect for the histrionic skills of this long legged beauty grew with her brilliant performances in The Others, The Hours and Cold Mountain.
JULIA ROBERTS
She is not that a beauty. Truth be spoken, I don't like the lanky and gawky look.
But what would I not give for a date with Vivian Ward of Pretty Woman( arguably the most famous hooker of all times) or Anna Scott of Notting Hall. Boy that " I am just a girl asking a boy to love her" line nearly moved me to tears. :P
ANGELINA JOLIE
Forget her movies. Her histrionic skills only impress in The Changeling and the classic Girl, Interrupted. But those pouty lips which invite legions of men to drown in them, those sultry looks and that figure to die for, these are my main interests in a Jolie starrer. And yeah I don't think I need to mention Original Sin. Did they use body doubles in those extensive scenes? :P
MEG RYAN
Not just America's sweetheart but mine too. No one plays that girl next door image better than this doe-eyed beauty. That fake orgasm in When Harry met Sally to the so confused girl in Sleepless in Seattle to the pugnacious book store owner in You've got Mail she always captures the heart with her pasty pudding looks, that heart warming smile and a good dose of romance and comedy.
CATHERINE ZETA-JONES
Well I also don't remember her much for her acting skills. Barring Traffic, Intolerable Cruelty and Chicago there have rarely been eye-catching performances from her. But she is grace and imperiousness personified and possesses an incredible screen persona.
SHARON STONE
Nothing much to say about her than that famous leg crossing scene in Basic Instinct. Personally I thought the movie conveyed more trauma and pain in its erotic scenes rather than lust.
RENEE ZELLWEGER
Her diminutive eyes and chubby countenance make up for a heady combination that never fails to allure you. From Jerry Maguire, Casino, Bridget Jone's Diary and Cold Mountain I have always enjoyed watching her.
MERYL STREEP
She is not a beauty but what an actress she is!!! Her mere presence lifts a movie out of mediocrity and she has got an unprecedented 15 Academy Awards nominations to do the talking for her.
JULIANNE MOORE
She is so goddamn beautiful. Heart-breaking even at this age, her divine presence is unforgettable in Boogie Nights, The Hours and Far from Heaven. In the last mentioned movie she probably delivered one of the most remarkable performances in recent memory.
AUDREY TATOU
Probably the best known french actress, her performance in Amelie left one short of words. Her sweet, cute and ludicrous imagination combined for a character which not only garnered rave reviews but also etched herself forever in the audience's minds. Why the Oscar went to No Man's Land is unfathomable.
RACHEL WEISZ
Along with Kate Winslet she is the one actress I would give my arm away for a date. Quite underrated,her roles in The Constant Gardener, About a Boy and Runaway Jury are quite commendable besides the unforgettable Mummy.
LIV TYLER
Just one scene in Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring where her character Arwen challenges the Nine to cross the river and claim Frodo. The rest is cinematic nirvana. That timbre in her voice and that haunting beauty.
MARISA TOMEI
No had stripped better since Demi Moore when Marisa Tomei bared all in The Wrestler. I think she deserved an Oscar for this performance more than My Cousin Vinny where she is almost unrecognizable. She also looked gorgeous in Anger Management and What Women Want.
MONICA BELLUCCI
Last but not the least, Monica Bellucci is the sexiest woman alive. My first memories of her are from a photo shoot where she was only clad with caviar leaving little to imagination. What a subject for the camera!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
SEVEN SINS
I am proud. My pride is not the vanity of the bourgeoise or the vainglory of the foolish. My pride is not malicious, airy and condescending. I have the pride of a morally ambitious person striving towards my own perfection. My pride acknowledges the good and noble, rejecting the weak and insipid. My pride doesnot allow me to accept irrational virtues codified by others neither does it accept an unearned guilt or shame. It doesnot allow me to submit passively to the will of others and rejects everything before the reality of my self esteem.
I am envious. My envy is not the the pain caused by the good fortune of others. It is not the green eyed monster consumed with malcontent for others. It does not cause any exhilaration in the misfortune of others. My envy is the drive to reach the pinnacle of my desires. It is the force that sustains me in bouts of self doubt. It convinces me that I am inferior to no one.
I am wrathful. My wrath is not self-destructive nor is it blind. My wrath does not seek vengeance, it does not exceed my personal dignity neither is it insensitive to social justice. My wrath is intrinsic to me. It spurs me in the hour of greatest need where its absence would have rendered me craven and imbecile. My wrath lets me hold my own against an aggressor and does not belittle my self esteem in front of others.
I am slothful. My slothfulness is neither asinine nor apathetic. My slothfulness is the feeling of a quiet siesta after a hearty lunch. It is feeling of lying quietly in a bed of flowers enjoying the dying wisps of the evening sun. It is feeling of ennui I develop in a full moon’s night when the world is bathed with a pearly sheen. It is the feeling which I have at times to sit by and watch the world pass by. My slothfulness preserves my sanity in a dog eat dog world of unhealthy competition, a race of men who earn for faster automobiles and taller buildings.
I am greedy. My greed is not the rapacious desire and pursuit of money, wealth and power. It is not materialistic. My greed is the etenal craving inside me to capture the small moments which make my life beautiful. My greed is for companionship, love and good times. I am greedy for the moments of love and pampering of my parents, the peal of laughter for a joke among friends and the engulfing happiness over a small success.
I am gluttonous. My gluttony is not the over-indulgence in food or a misplaced desire for food and drinks. My gluttony neither seeks a bowl of caviar nor some exquisite dish to satisfy my palate. My gluttony makes my lip wet with anticipation for a meal cooked by my mother. It is the feeling of satisfaction when I nibble on a piece of tandoor or the feeling of self contentedness when I sip on a can of beer in a hot parched night. It takes pleasure in the taste of simple yet enriching food.
I am lustful. My lust is not lecherous nor is it subject to perversion. My lust is not the inordinate and self consuming immoderate desire for flesh. My lust seeks the tender touch of my beloved, her coquettish glances, her nervous laughter, her cascading curls which invite me to sleep forever burying my nose in them. It seeks her lips which when touched feels like the first sip of wine after crossing the desert. My lust seeks culmination in a vision of red. A red-letter day of my life, a red sari, the red on her brow, the red of the glowing embers which will bear mute testimony to my stepping on the threshold of a new life.
I am envious. My envy is not the the pain caused by the good fortune of others. It is not the green eyed monster consumed with malcontent for others. It does not cause any exhilaration in the misfortune of others. My envy is the drive to reach the pinnacle of my desires. It is the force that sustains me in bouts of self doubt. It convinces me that I am inferior to no one.
I am wrathful. My wrath is not self-destructive nor is it blind. My wrath does not seek vengeance, it does not exceed my personal dignity neither is it insensitive to social justice. My wrath is intrinsic to me. It spurs me in the hour of greatest need where its absence would have rendered me craven and imbecile. My wrath lets me hold my own against an aggressor and does not belittle my self esteem in front of others.
I am slothful. My slothfulness is neither asinine nor apathetic. My slothfulness is the feeling of a quiet siesta after a hearty lunch. It is feeling of lying quietly in a bed of flowers enjoying the dying wisps of the evening sun. It is feeling of ennui I develop in a full moon’s night when the world is bathed with a pearly sheen. It is the feeling which I have at times to sit by and watch the world pass by. My slothfulness preserves my sanity in a dog eat dog world of unhealthy competition, a race of men who earn for faster automobiles and taller buildings.
I am greedy. My greed is not the rapacious desire and pursuit of money, wealth and power. It is not materialistic. My greed is the etenal craving inside me to capture the small moments which make my life beautiful. My greed is for companionship, love and good times. I am greedy for the moments of love and pampering of my parents, the peal of laughter for a joke among friends and the engulfing happiness over a small success.
I am gluttonous. My gluttony is not the over-indulgence in food or a misplaced desire for food and drinks. My gluttony neither seeks a bowl of caviar nor some exquisite dish to satisfy my palate. My gluttony makes my lip wet with anticipation for a meal cooked by my mother. It is the feeling of satisfaction when I nibble on a piece of tandoor or the feeling of self contentedness when I sip on a can of beer in a hot parched night. It takes pleasure in the taste of simple yet enriching food.
I am lustful. My lust is not lecherous nor is it subject to perversion. My lust is not the inordinate and self consuming immoderate desire for flesh. My lust seeks the tender touch of my beloved, her coquettish glances, her nervous laughter, her cascading curls which invite me to sleep forever burying my nose in them. It seeks her lips which when touched feels like the first sip of wine after crossing the desert. My lust seeks culmination in a vision of red. A red-letter day of my life, a red sari, the red on her brow, the red of the glowing embers which will bear mute testimony to my stepping on the threshold of a new life.
Friday, March 20, 2009
We, The Back-Benchers
The disturbance in my ears became a raging storm when I was rudely jolted from my afternoon siesta to find the furious Professor glaring at my face. Shaking off the last remnants of my dream I stood up swaying, and trying my utmost to stifle a yawn. As I hung my head down( the best escape mechanism that you can adopt in these sort of trying circumstances), the wizened professor decided that the whole class deserved to know more of my upbringing and mannerisms. The grooves in the wooden desk in front of me had never been more interesting. The swirling patterns and the whorls entranced me and interred me in the depths of their multitudes.
Finally the storm abated and I settled down to muffled giggles and guffaws. I yawned once or twice loudly just to see the professor getting livid once more. Chuckling to myself I once again lapsed into a state of ennui. My siesta broken and also not trying to push my luck further, I looked around to find my fellow compatriots in various states of inaction.
The Back-Benchers society is a self contained micro-cosmos having a life and intrinsic characteristics of it’s own. A plethora of disguised talents, misguided virtuosos interspersed with a multitude of jerks of varying intellectual faculty comprise our back-benchers society. There are also petenders who try to improve their social standing by forcibly ingraining themselves upon us.
Most of the people in my society walk more alive in their dreams than in reality. And those rugged desks and the peeling plasters of our archaic classroom sing a lullaby that can make you sleep like a log. Except for some rare occurances in the past history this tradition of ritualistic mass slumber has been interrupted very few times by our extremely qualified and ineffectual professors. The rollcalls are just minor footnotes in this epic ritual.
Bereft of avenues to show their artistic skills, some guys wreak their vengeance on the hapless desks and benches. Innumerable graffiti adorn them ranging from the banal to the esoteric, from doodles to protraits, from mindless scribblings to poems of longing. Dimmu Borgir shares the same space with the myriad imaginary girlfriends of Deepu and also the different clan names of gaming enthusiasts. There are also references into the linguistic depths of people who have taken pains to learn the slangs of every language and embellished the desks with their knowledge for all posterity.
The famed “addas” of Calcutta pale in comparison when there is a free period and the slumbering leviathans wake up to join the rest of the mortals. From the latest match of DOTA to the policies of Barrack Obama, from discussing the latest disgusting video to come out from the Ladies Hostel to whether one night stands are better than long term commitments,everything under the sun finds a place in the discussions.
There are also brief moments of action, glory and gory in the back benches. These are not flashes in the pan but rejuvenate us for a better tomorrow. The sight of Chatta at his frenzied best, the rustic humour of Deepu inciting everyone for a GPL to LoveAngle, the infuriating actions of Zondy, the group gropings of Umaga, the warcrys of Zhenga to the devilry and impishness of our sweet Gullu. We the back benchers survive each day to the memories of incidents as such.
I must confess I am really proud to be a member of such a group. Where else can you find a national level athlete, a world class hacker, a web designer, a photoshop guru, a robotics giant, magazine editors, a football captain, heads of a few clubs and not to mention the gaming fiends sitting all around you?
Before the bell rings for the next period, I also realisethat the back benches represent a mini-India with people from the far-off Andamans to the Khasi mountains, from our own babu-moshais to the shinde folk. Gultis and bhaiyyas, Uddus and Northies share the same desks with harmony. Quite a case study in cospolitan India, I think.
P.S. People of the front benches of my class who read this, Please read between my fingers.
Finally the storm abated and I settled down to muffled giggles and guffaws. I yawned once or twice loudly just to see the professor getting livid once more. Chuckling to myself I once again lapsed into a state of ennui. My siesta broken and also not trying to push my luck further, I looked around to find my fellow compatriots in various states of inaction.
The Back-Benchers society is a self contained micro-cosmos having a life and intrinsic characteristics of it’s own. A plethora of disguised talents, misguided virtuosos interspersed with a multitude of jerks of varying intellectual faculty comprise our back-benchers society. There are also petenders who try to improve their social standing by forcibly ingraining themselves upon us.
Most of the people in my society walk more alive in their dreams than in reality. And those rugged desks and the peeling plasters of our archaic classroom sing a lullaby that can make you sleep like a log. Except for some rare occurances in the past history this tradition of ritualistic mass slumber has been interrupted very few times by our extremely qualified and ineffectual professors. The rollcalls are just minor footnotes in this epic ritual.
Bereft of avenues to show their artistic skills, some guys wreak their vengeance on the hapless desks and benches. Innumerable graffiti adorn them ranging from the banal to the esoteric, from doodles to protraits, from mindless scribblings to poems of longing. Dimmu Borgir shares the same space with the myriad imaginary girlfriends of Deepu and also the different clan names of gaming enthusiasts. There are also references into the linguistic depths of people who have taken pains to learn the slangs of every language and embellished the desks with their knowledge for all posterity.
The famed “addas” of Calcutta pale in comparison when there is a free period and the slumbering leviathans wake up to join the rest of the mortals. From the latest match of DOTA to the policies of Barrack Obama, from discussing the latest disgusting video to come out from the Ladies Hostel to whether one night stands are better than long term commitments,everything under the sun finds a place in the discussions.
There are also brief moments of action, glory and gory in the back benches. These are not flashes in the pan but rejuvenate us for a better tomorrow. The sight of Chatta at his frenzied best, the rustic humour of Deepu inciting everyone for a GPL to LoveAngle, the infuriating actions of Zondy, the group gropings of Umaga, the warcrys of Zhenga to the devilry and impishness of our sweet Gullu. We the back benchers survive each day to the memories of incidents as such.
I must confess I am really proud to be a member of such a group. Where else can you find a national level athlete, a world class hacker, a web designer, a photoshop guru, a robotics giant, magazine editors, a football captain, heads of a few clubs and not to mention the gaming fiends sitting all around you?
Before the bell rings for the next period, I also realisethat the back benches represent a mini-India with people from the far-off Andamans to the Khasi mountains, from our own babu-moshais to the shinde folk. Gultis and bhaiyyas, Uddus and Northies share the same desks with harmony. Quite a case study in cospolitan India, I think.
P.S. People of the front benches of my class who read this, Please read between my fingers.
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