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Archive for September, 2006

I’ve just bunked a lecture, two in fact, not exactly with the intention to write something, as I cringe back in the chair with a cramped tummy. Yeah, jogged and stretched for roughly thirty minutes last evening. Gulped down something like half a litre of H2O to make up for all the perspiration. By the way, occasional elements of physical exertion make me feel so good about myself. To feel that yeah I did sweat it out, the Schumacher pulse, and fancying my naked torso in the full length mirrors fitted in our rooms this summer, the stiffening tissue and the bulging calf muscles, the taste of adrenaline!

However, it certainly wasn’t the water ingestion responsible for wringing my stomach. I mean indeed it was THE water. Later around 10 p.m. I got wind of a sudden tumult in the hostel premises, people were running around with a sullen disquiet, and all this with a rather spooky feeling to it! So pretty soon I’m apprised that the 1/2×3785 gallons of water I had consumed, well, had a generous content of mud, smell of some rotten shit, and was nervelessly released by the Delhi Jal Board (DJB) to obliterate a few thousand of the (overhyped) best brains of the nation. The moral of the story is, exercising one in a blue moon might take a toll on your senses, and you can safely snub potentially calamitous objects! The icing on the thawed cake was the amazingly tiny font size that the notice put up near the taps used, with nearly half the space on the A4 sheet idle, and the signature at the bottom saying “With Regards, Institute Engineer”! WTF!

Naturally, there was immediate crisis for want of water resources in the campus. Seems like mine being the oldest hostel of the institute, it holds pride in maintaining some of the heritage charm even today, and the news of the mini-cataclysm was delivered to us last by some God forsaken, slumber-stripped, pan-chewing sarkari employee! I say this because by the time I decided to act, and I think I was quick to respond, there already were long queues for packaged Bisleri in the only canteen open that time of the day (night)! So you guessed it all right, there was no water left by the time we descended on the counter. The only choice left was soft drinks. Now everything has to go wrong in cascade I suppose. Just when I had given up on colas, not believing what Coca Cola has to say in defense of their Aamir endorsed products, for once unbelieving of Sachin or even Bachchan Sr., or Akshay Kumar, or Riya Sen, did DJB had to deliver killer supplies of water to our coolers! Anyway, I guess I still preferred pesticides over mud and waste, and colored fluid to unrecognized dying in tacit lack of the colorless/odourless water! And as I just sipped the last drop of the Fanta (500ml + 100ml free), somebody on the upper deck hollered that drinking water is safe again!

All this crap notwithstanding, what’s the goddamn use of 2H2 + O2 -> 2H2O, if it can’t come to rescue in such mass-murdering emergencies, of such a treasured intellectual legion! All science is bullshit (and probably I intend to refute more such scientific knowledge in the book that I have plans to author).

PS: I’m getting all the more surer of my doctoring capacities, considering the drug that I administered to myself and a friend of mine to live the night off at least, without any consultation, turned out to be the perfect antidote to death in such circumstantial tragedies, as I talked to Dad this morning!

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More random banter!

Life, incredibly dynamical
Often unbelievable
Unconvincingly enigmatical
Nonetheless, worth all the trouble!

Prince in one moment
Pauper in the next
From the infinity that touch
What one instant be the best?

People come, and leave
Impressions last forever
Love is perpetual
And memories efface never!

Success is phantom
Fame is ephemeral
Find a sense to this Lilliputian being
And understand life, its surreal!

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I have always known I think a lot. And I mean an inordinately lot. Saying I am a Virgo and they are supposed to be fusspots, is being nonchalantly unreasonable. I do a hell lot of daydreaming. And lot here means most of the times I’m myself deluged by the unfathomable degrees of fantasizing I can subject myself to! I think I attach excessive importance to affairs, immensity of the matter being extraneous to the concern. I don’t know if such fanatical worrying helps! If it makes me do things the right way. If it gets me any closer to perfectionism.

The kernel of my current stream of cerebration is the overzealous amount of seriousness that has creeped in my beingness of late. The blitheness is still surviving, but I think I have got a lot more sober than I ever was. I feel like I have aged all of a sudden. I understand I’m going to a new phase of life. I know it’s time to move on, to change the modalities of living that I have sustained all this while.

With a positive probability, I can credit the switch to the shocking death of Dollar. His demise certainly produced a vacuum, a space never to be replaced by anything that breathes. I still disgorge teardrops when I miss him, and I do that quite often. People close to me have advised me to desist from such surreal involvement with animate things. And I guarantee I have never understood a chip of such counseling!

Or may be it’s the way of life, the student one, that has started to take its toll on me. I have been in this place for long, and have naturally got quite used to the way life is conducted in these limited domains. Everyday is marked by tedious repetition, freshness is throttled!

I think I have been witness to a substantively active lifespan. I have seen so much. I have done so much. I have known so many. Perhaps the ailing enormity of it all has been paining me. I can nervelessly profess about having it all, balanced and just enough for blissful contentment. But the unsettling realism of the formidable quantum of things-to-do never ceases to haunt me. There seems to be no end to the course of acquisition. The infiniteness of the recipe of a normal euphoric being teases me.

How can I not think about it? How can I help being a worrier? I cannot. Life is short. It demands careful tending. I want to believe there are others who attach similar attentive inspection to their lives. Who question their existence. Who reach out to find a meaning to their survival.

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