Went to KIITCollege today. Camp’s cousin needed some help with his math exam that he has failed to clear in his last 3 attempts.
We would get the paper outside the examination hall, all we had to do was solve it and send inside the answers written on a paper. We solved it and sent it back in about 1 hour, so he was left with 2 hours to copy the answers down.
But, apparently, the sheet on which we wrote the answers was too large for to be opened in the presence of the invigilator, and thus, he didn’t even open it.
Can’t believe so much hard work went down the drain.
Anyway, my initial experiments with my 3rd attempt at blogging are over today. Now I’m pretty much confident that I can write a post everyday.
Guess I can tick off this agenda from my plan-to-get-rid-of-procrastination.
Position of other agendas, though, sucks right now.
I’ve worked out 16 out of 31 days this month (OK effort I’d say).
Reading is going well too (I’m done with Guide and If Tomorrow Comes, and halfway through Doctors too).
Haven’t really caught up with my engineering studies yet (this was the main agenda).
She told me how her parents had been extremely angry.
They took away her phone, locked her up in a room and all that Bollywood-ish drama.
Somehow, she convinced her mother that she loved her life in Gurgaon (omitting everything about me) and that she had to go back.
So now, she’s coming back, in a week or so (thankfully for me, her parents agreed, although now she has to call them twice every week and marry the boy of their choice).
Not exactly a good news, but for the time being, I’m ecstatic.
Infosys has organized an on-campus pre-training program for us with the help of Campus Connect. This program is supposed to give us a cutting edge over others, kinda make us “industry ready”.
After attending their classes for 3 days, I’ve come to realize that Campus Connect is itself not industry ready. They have trained our teachers so that they can train us, and the least I can say now is that our teachers remain as incompetent as ever.
This is what you need to do if you want to train people for Infosys:
1)Download the presentation slides from their website.
2)Appoint a teacher who can successfully read out those slides in front of 30 odd students (yes, word by word).
3)Syllabus originally meant for a whole semester should be taught in one day straight.
4)Teach that teacher how to avoid tricky questions volleyed by the students.
5)There’s no need to give out notes of any kind ‘cause it is students’ headache, as it is their job that is on the line.
They tell us that tests will be conducted during this course and based on the results our training period might be shortened to 1 month (from 3 months).
Many of you might have answered yes to all of the above (like me!). So, here’s the shocker:
Have you ever French kissed a French girl in bikini?
Well, among Indians, not many can boast of having an affirmative answer to the shocker.
To much dismay of mine, Ashu is one of them.
Dig this; he boards the train to Goa (which is ordinarily a boring 36 hours affair), finds himself sharing the compartment with 3 French girls. They think that it’s a good idea to accompany Ashu & Co. to have fun while they are in Goa.
So that’s what happens and the trip slowly but surely starts resembling my dream trip.
He’s one lucky bastard and life is extremely unfair (how else would you explain that when I went to Nainital with Ashu it sucked big time, and this happens in Goa?).
Every year, on this day, I think about how everything’s changed about this day.
There was a time when on 26th of January, everyone in my extended family gathered to watch the Republic Day parade. In fact, we kids were excited about it for about a week before the day. It wasn’t merely a holiday on which we could to relax. It was about watching the parade, having something special to eat and talking to each other about “stuff”. It was as enjoyable as any other festival. We talked about the parade in detail with classmates for days to come.
In those days, parade was “special”.
Now I watch the parade alone, without any enthusiasm. It’s a boring-as-hell affair. Not because it doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s because there’s no one to share it with anymore. Nobody in my acquaintance watches it, what the heck, nobody even talks about it. I don’t even hear the word ‘parade’ in my life anymore, leave alone watching it. The 26th comes and goes without anyone giving even a rat’s ass.
Shortening of the length of the parade this year proves my point well. It’s like everyone just wants to get it over with ASAP. It’s nothing more than a formality nowadays.
I want those days back.
I want back my dream, of watching the parade live, sitting at Rajpath, which died years ago (not because I can’t but because I don’t want to).
I want to want to watch those planes paint the sky tiranga once again with the same awe and excitement as I once did.
Jennifer Aniston is hands down the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I saw her first on FRIENDS only. And anyone might agree that she looked her best during the 2nd and 3rd seasons. I was absolutely stunned while watching her. Her grace, her attitude, her style, everything was mesmerizing.
Then I watched Fifty First Dates.
Drew Barrymore
I remember the first time I saw her. It was in Never Been Kissed. She smiled, and smiled, and then smiled some more (yes, that smile which guarantees that you won’t crave for heaven anymore, ‘cause you’ve seen it). I saw her latest in Music And Lyrics, the killer smile is still there.
I had read in a newspaper TV guide that Zee Cinema was going to air Kamasutra 30 minutes past midnight. I eagerly waited for it whole day long. It never occurred to me that our only TV is in my parents’ bedroom and so, watching it might be a bad idea. Of course, I was thinking from my crotch.
I watched it for some 20 minutes and nothing even remotely erotic came up (as I realized later in life, for a movie with such a title, it doesn’t have much sexual content).
Then it happened, as Naveen Andrews was about to hump Indira Verma.
‘What are you doing?’ it was my dad.
I was shocked beyond my control. I fumbled for the remote and managed to switch to some sports channel.
‘I was wanted to see the score dad.’ this was an extremely stupid thing to say given that it was a repeat telecast.
‘Can’t you see people are trying to sleep here? Now get lost or I swear you’ll be sorry.’ he was genuinely weary, and obviously I hadn’t outsmarted him. He definitely knew what was going on.
For many days after that I wasn’t able to face my dad. After so any years now, finally I was over that incident. But life had other plans.
It happened again. About 4 hours ago.
I was kinda rearranging my pornography collection and was sampling one clip when dad entered the room. I managed to close the window but it was too late by then.
‘No no, keep watching, why are you closing it? That’s what you do on internet, huh?’ he taunted.
I was too embarrassed to say anything. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything more.
Later, in the evening, I took on my whole family alone to prove my innocence. I knew that bluffing was the only option if I wanted to grab onto any chance to save my face. I argued that it was just an ordinary movie and a kissing scene was going on, and I didn’t want dad to see me watching that.
On the way to gym, I tried to burn my CAT scorecard (I had saved it specifically for that purpose).
My first plan was to tear it to pieces, but then, I was smoking and looking at matchstick gave me the feeling that burning it might actually be more satisfying.
Watchman of our colony came and sat beside me. I made him my “accomplice”.
Unfortunately, the scorecard was made of some strange material. No matter what we tried, it didn’t catch fire (the wind be damned!). After about 5 long minutes of trying, I had to content myself with tearing it off.
I was living in constant fear of CAT scorecard for past many days. Finally it came and, thankfully, I was at home to receive it safely. Of course I wouldn’t want my family to know about it.
Not because no good can come of my 94 percentile, but it’s just that I never tell my parents about any of my exam results.
If it’s bad, I get a stick stuck up my ass.
If it’s good, it breeds expectation which in turn increases the length of that stick for the next time.
Moral of the story: Parent’s ignorance is children’s bliss.
Went for drinks with friends today. It was an evening well spent. Though Royal Stag is never my choice of whisky, but company of old friends pretty much made up for that.
1 bottle up and ‘Battle Of Bakchods’ began.
Everyone wanted to tell everyone else how much he loved them, how he would always “be there” and other madman stuff – like, who’s the one person you wanna beat the hell out of, name of one girl you have really loved, what’s the meaning of life etc.
Alcohol brings out best of one’s random thoughts.
Needless to say, no one wins ‘Battle Of bakchods’. It cannot be won. Every participant is a loser.
Anyway, cheers to health, wealth and prostitution…
15 minutes into the lecture I felt like murdering someone.
10 more minutes and I was feeling like killing myself.
15 more minutes later I was finalizing my decision about which end of my pen to stick through my eye.
Thankfully, sleep took over and I survived through next 2 lectures. Halfway through our lunch break I couldn’t take it anymore.
I, Vicky and Khatam went to Khatam’s place to play some cricket. And yes, I watched Slumdog Millionaire too.
The only words that come to my mind are ‘over hyped’.
It’s nowhere near ‘out of this word’ or ‘magnificent’. Please, just cut the crap and let’s all accept that it’s just a nice film that is easy to watch and can be termed ‘very good’ at best (not ‘excellent’ and definitely not ‘one of the best ever’).
As far as Jai Ho is concerned, I’ve heard way way way better stuff from Rahman.
I just can’t get enough of them. Now it’s getting kinda frustrating. You’ll understand when I tell you that I’ve seen every single episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S more than 10 times!
But that’s where the problem lies. I’m addicted to it, virtually connected to every character on it. I love this show so much that there is nothing more satisfying in my life (sex and chocolate excluded).
It’s kinda embarrassing, but I almost cried when the last episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S aired. When it ended, it felt as if something very dear was taken away from me; actually that’s when I got hooked to the reruns, sort of to keep me “alive”.
These days I’m making my best effort to detach myself from it (I gotta admit, it’s a waste of time now).
Now they say that college is gonna open from Monday. Just when the feeling of exams getting over was about to take over, we have been asked to ready our butts for another round of wear and tear.
Final year, final semester.
Can’t believe it’s about to be over. It seems like yesterday only; when all of us were falling over each other to get in the queue in which Sakshi was standing (we were asked to stand in queue of our respective stream, but it didn’t matter, Sakshi was all we had on our minds).
I agree I always say that college sucks, and it does. But I spent 4 years of my life here (doing nothing, but let’s overlook that point right now).
I remember my first year. New friends, subsequent fights, groupism, bunking lectures, movies and whatnot.
Then gradually, it all became boring, and eventually, unbearable.
They say college is the best time of anyone’s life.
Looking at the (pretty much incomprehensible) code in front of me is quite overwhelming.
6 months from now I’ll be branded as software engineer and will be stuck doing what I don’t really want to do. But then I’m not so sure about what I want to do either, but I must have something in mind.
I wish I had taken my studies a bit more seriously. Obviously, to do that I’d have to become something that I’m not, but at least my grades would be better (some people say that it’s everything you can ever want).
Same to same, except that I copied and pasted the code from a pen drive instead of writing it myself.
Anyway, Ashu told me about Goa trip that he has planned. I just wish I could go too. It’s been my dream to go there again, for a long time now.
Yes, I used to live there.
Goa
The most amazing place in India.
Think of night outs, beaches, babes, swimsuits and alcohol; add to that the most obvious human desire and you’ll know what I mean.
An exceptional retirement plan.
(I’m like the unluckiest man alive because when I lived there I was all of 7 and now, when finally I have started to think with my crotch instead of my mind, I can’t possibly go there in near future)
It goes without saying that I’m extremely happy for him (the only thing I hate about it is that we’d meet less often now).
The two of us are perfect example of how one’s attitude towards life is all one needs to succeed (or fail). We studied at the same school, are best friends and were born on the same day. We used to compete at studies (something that I don’t even dare to think about today). Teachers and classmates alike used to compare us. Both chose the same career, went to FIITJEE for PET preparations.
But along the way we made peace with the fact that no matter what we would end up at totally different places in life. Come to think of it, I’m amazed that at one point of time we actually thought that we would always stay together (nothing sexual, I swear).
Looking back, I realize that he has always been a man who knew what he was doing and what he was going to do, and he always had a plan for it. Everything, becoming NTSE scholar, changing school, going to IIT, getting maximum GPAs, was a step towards his future, about which he was pretty much sure what it was gonna be.
He’s got what it takes to be successful in life.
Focus and attitude
Of course he missed out on a lot of sex he could’ve got if he hadn’t been such a nerd, but I guess he’ll be just fine.
I hate when a Sunday afternoon becomes boring, especially when you’ve been waiting for it to come. You see, final year of college brings with it too much frustration, one has to bear with it for a whole week, so, Sunday is kinda good news.
Watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S whole day long wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Past sunset, Ashu and I decided to make up for the almost lost Sunday by going to the malls (not for shopping of course, our plan is always the ever-reliable ‘Chick Watching’). So we went. After about half an hour of ogling and lusting after girls we came across CHARCOAL (a bar in MGF mall).
Now, CHARCOAL is one of my weaknesses. It’s one of the places that we love to hang out at and is also way out of our budget. It’s kinda guilty pleasure for me (I and Chor have savored its ambience quite a few times and cursed it later for making our wallets unreasonably lighter). So I warned Ashu to not to look at it and just get the hell outta there. But Ashu, who had never experienced it before, found it irresistible and dragged me in there.
40 minutes later, we were sitting on his bike, on the way back home, happily enjoying the high that beer gave us (add to that the high given by the kingly ambience of the bar).
Back home, a few minutes ago I put my lighter than air wallet in my cupboard.
I was sitting with her, having our post-coitus cigarette, when she broke that news.
“I’m going home.”
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” I said. She never talks about home.
“I don’t know. Just feel like seeing my parents.” She said, unfazed by the surprise in my voice. Okay, so after almost a year, suddenly she wants to see her parents. That’s good. And what am I supposed to do. You see, she’s like my sole refuge from my normally shitty life.
“Are you sure? Can’t you just write to them or talk to them on phone?” I kinda begged.
“No yaar, guess it’s been a long time. Should really go and see them.”
Those were kind of final words. I wasn’t shattered or anything. I myself secretly wanted her to make up with her parents but was too afraid to suggest it to her till now.
“Yeah, you should go. You should’ve done it a long time ago.” I sighed.
“Don’t worry lover boy, I’m still here for ya.” This came from her roommate (I like her and she’s a nice sense of humor but right now, her timing couldn’t suck more).
She sensed my anger and sneaked away.
“You’ll be coming back right. I wanted to tell you something.”
“Of course I’ll come back; I’ll call you when I’m there.” She said and hugged me.
My cell phone rang pretty early in the morning. It was 11, but in college life, that’s what early morning is. It was Hashmi.
“How much you got?”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“CAT is out. Haven’t you checked the score?”
Okay, so it’s “the day” already.
I told him what I had told everyone else earlier.
“I tore my admit card, I don’t have any idea what my roll number is.”
“Check it somehow. And do tell me when you come to know.”
Yeah, I will.
What’s the point, man? I already know my score. I know I have screwed up. No matter what percentile I get, I’m not gonna get a call, so, what’s the whole damn point!
That’s the reason why I tore my admit card as soon as I came out the examination hall.
And yes, I have no reasons to complain. I didn’t bust my ass for it, like innumerable others. To say the least, I hardly touched a book to prepare for it. It was even worse than my JEE prep.
Now I feel just as frustrated as that day 4 years back (when my JEE result came out).
I know I’m not in “that league”. And I know that just like my JEE result, this time too I would have missed out because of an extremely small margin. Looking at such a result will just make me even more frustrated. I'm getting flashbacks. Feels like deja vu.
Anyway, I’ve asked one of my friends, who’s at IIM-C, to obtain my result for me. He’s supposed to have connections or something.
Before I tell you the story behind it, I think it is best that I start with all the nicknames I’ve got in my life.
The first ever name I got was Baagru. It’s short for Bagar Billa (it’s a kind of overtly active animal). My grandfather called me by that name. I never really came to know why he did that, but to this day, whenever anyone in my family remembers my grandfather, they definitely say something about that particular name of mine.
Then there are names that I wish had stuck with me because they highlight how I was once a sweet, innocent and loveable kid. Like, Mitthu (common name for pet parrots) that my mom used to use and, ofcourse, Mitwa (Hindi for close friend and, incidentally, resembles my actual name) that almost everybody in our family used.
School started, and classmates called me mostly Yadav or certain variations of it like yado, yadu, jadu etc. I have to say here that it was the first and last decent nickname I ever got. After this, all my names range from lewd to sick to even racial!
Like Gunda (ruffian) which eventually changed to Gundi (female ruffian) since my classmates thought that Gunda was too manly.
I mend my ways and changed all my habits (abusing and beating up people) that gave me that name soon, and became a nerd. Maybe that’s why people reverted to my older name, much to relief of mine.
When I was in 11th standard, somehow people related my dark circles with masturbation and started calling me Mutthi (stands for fist, but is also slang for masturbation). This was one of my most humiliating names (obviously!). There was another Amit in our class, and soon they started calling him Mutthi too. Eventually, to distinguish, they named us junior and senior, appended with Mutthi as and when required.
In between somewhere, Bright, a friend of mine, started calling me Khatana. Reason behind it was extremely outrageous. Apparently, he used to know an Amit Khatana from his school and so he found it more convenient (as if remembering Yadav was too difficult). And much to my surprise, this one name remains my most popular name till date. Everyone including my teachers and friend’s parents called me by this name.
Proof?
Once, a friend came to my house and asked my mom
“Aunty, Khatana ghar pe hai (is Khatana home)?”
“Yahan to beta Yadav hirehte hain (everyone here is Yadav only).” my mom replied.
College started. People started calling me Kala (black) due to my complexion. This was plain stupid, not to mention outrageous (I live in India for god’s sake). And soon enough, it was changed to Naag (snake, they are associated with black).
When my gift of gab started showing its colors (I am, arguably, tough to beat at arguments and can humiliate anyone quite easily) they started calling me
Zeheri (venomous).
So, here I am.
Zeheri
Going around “biting and killing” anyone with my deadly Zeher (venom).
That’s all about my nicknames. I love some, I loathe some, but of course, they make my identity. Besides, everyone in this world has to go through all this.
An agnostic turned atheist.
Too interested in everything to do anything.
Professionally, an alleged Software Engineer.
In search of me.
And yes, love procrastinating and staring at wall...
