University Memories | Central Library

Parija Library, Utkal University (1994)

1996

“Bhai, treat! ”, Jagan quipped in excitement as the news of Kittu’s nomination being confirmed spread through the campus like fire in the woods. If you took out of the picture - elections, rallies, et al; stuff that formalize University politics, Kittu was the next President of the student council. It was a landslide, clearly.

An average class had 12 students. A department had 10 classes with 3 batches. The schools had 5 departments each, give and take. The University had 10 schools of excellence. And not to forget the Undergraduate junta. And all of these people would vote for Kittu. Why would they do that?

Because Kittu wasn't the guy who ran away when the police was busy beating up university students. Because he didn't succumb to the Vice-Chancellor’s vile threats, academic and non-academic. Because he never forgave enemies, and never forgot where he came from.

Because no one else in the university had the ping-pongs to stand up against a man who could make and break academic careers at the snap of his finger. But Kittu did stand up, selflessly when he and his friends sized up the chutiya librarian because he wasn't allowing freshers to borrow books. 

"Bastard, is this your father's library?", the VC thundered when he heard about it! 

And all of this did cost him his dissertation, a teaching assistant’s job at an American university apart from so many other things that are not important at the moment.

Despite all that, such was his popularity that even the Chaiwallah Mausa at the Central Canteen wanted to enroll his teenage son in the University, so that he could pay back a favor and vote for him.

“I’ll be the Chief Minister, one day. Oh, I will... ”, he would look into the mirror every time he was drunk and proclaim to himself.

The sycophants in the academic council hated him. The juniors respected him. His peers had his back and so did the alumni, who wrote him generous checks to fund his campaigns.

But there was this one woman who loved him. Truly, madly, deeply.

And he loved her back. Unconditionally. Such was Madhu.

But Madhu was the VC’s younger daughter.

Yet, they made it happen. They just had to.

2014

Back in the days, Kittu and friends use to chase cars and kites. Now his friends were chasing their dreams, their KPIs, their EMIs. 

But Kittu stopped chasing his dreams when he became Keshav Mishra.

Because, Keshav Mishra was the youngest home minister, Odisha has ever seen. The most dynamic as well.

And now he was back in the same place where it all began, to inaugurate the public library of the University. With him were two beautiful ladies; his better half Madhu and their daughter.

While Kittu in his speech was joking about active he was on social media compared to the other ministers, Madhu smiled, and  giggled. She smiled because it was Kittu. She giggled because the library was named after her father.

Mr. Lovely

Calcutta, Present Day.



"Ayi Shomo, where are you leaving for?", Enquired Mastermoni. Shome took out his gunnysack and easel and walked for the door as Mastermoni, his highly interesting teacher and psuedo-landord finished his cup of green tea. He didn't mind the often unwarranted queries by the old man since he not only got the good fortune to work under him, but also got to stay in his palatial house right in the middle of the city.

Little known by his original name of Diponkar Mukherji, Mastermoni during his heydays was a radical painter. Starting out as a petty graffiti boy for the communists when he was given free reign to paint the walls of Kolkata with propaganda art; he came to be one of the finest artists who was profusely patronised amongst the Tollygunge elite, and respected immensely among the junta at the India Coffee House. So much was his legacy that the street that passed through his house was known as Mukherji Para, the avenue of the Mukherji's.

As Shome put in his chappals at the door, he replied, "I'll go to the National Library, read for a while and then maybe finish the chobbi I'm working on."

"Even Picasso would have stayed home on a lovely day like this..", Mastermoni quipped as he lit his pipe and looked out of the french window to a rain drenched Kolkata on a lazy saturday.


A Couple of Minutes Later.

Amidst the shouts of market vendors, bells of the Kalighat temple and a surprisingly cool wind in the air, he walked up to the main road and then took the stairway to the metro station underneath. It is even cooler here, he thought as he passed the gates and boarded a train that was just about to leave.
As he stood with one arm clinging to the handrail, he noticed a very gorgeous and demure lady sitting right in front of him. In the next few minutes, their eyes met once or twice and she used to shy away. At least he thought so. From the top to bottom, he checked her out and he so was enamoured by her beauty, one could tell by the look on his face. Artists tend to fall in love easily.

A little later, a station came and the girl hurriedly got down. As he devoured the jasmine scent of her body when she passed by him to the door, he also felt a strange sensation around his hips. Somebody has just pinched him. Thanks to the crowd, he couldn't know who.

As he looked little further inside the compartment, he saw another man constantly staring at him. Shome looked at this stranger for a while and made a few points on his mind. He was being checked by a person who was not straight, Shome could tell. He noticed the Kajal in his eyes, the tight jeans, shaved underarms and all that. And the stranger was gradually taking steps towards the place he was standing. As he started feeling extremely uncomfortable, his station was about to arrive much to his relief.

"Poroborti Station Rabindra Sadan", the phony announcer quipped.

He used the crowd in the station to his advantage and made a dash towards the escalator, as the stranger was already hooting at him by now.

"Aiee Roxy, Tumi Aashbo na??", the stranger was shouting shamelessly with a effeminate touch to his voice.

As he touched the escalator, he looked back to confirm. He had lost Mr. not-straight. Relief.
He walked up and his eyes feel upon an inscription at the station's plaque that had a couplet from a poem of Tagore's. It read like this,

Through the silent night
I hear the knockings at my heart,
of the morning's vagrant hopes,
Sadly coming back.

Now he knew what the girl must have felt.

Conversations

the_g@l_i_just_met:
hmmm pensive..
it wnt do justice if i search for it
u shld search for it
wld be better
wld feel personal then


balls_of_steel:
I din't ask you to search for it.
Just in case, you come across such a picture.
By any chance.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hau hela re baba (alright mate)


balls_of_steel:
I'm sorry. I think i'm being kinda difficult.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
nopes
i m good wid difficult ppl


balls_of_steel:
Diplomatic answer.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
no
i really am good wid difficult ppl
especially guys
was wid one for sever yrs u see


balls_of_steel:
Shut up. Not something you'd just joke about.
To a stranger like me.
You see.
He was ur guy re.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
m nt joking
he was a difficult guy
i mean very difficult to understand
n i loved that
i like difficult guys


balls_of_steel:
I think its better we not talk about this.
Like i said, you can nver really trust me.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
wat wld u do?
i mean wid this topic/


balls_of_steel:
I don't know.
Maybe i'm simply freaking out.
But i'm really sorry, if you find me odd at the moment.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
freak out?
why?
i mean
i dnt get it
why wld u freak out?


balls_of_steel:
Something just happened.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
wat happened?


balls_of_steel:
Will talk sometime about it. When i am saner.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
saner?
i thought u wr sane a few mins ago


balls_of_steel:
Few minutes seems to be a hell lot of a time, when you conversing on the phone with a gurl you used to date and talking simultaneously to another good frend on Facebook.
*used to date once


the_g@l_i_just_met:
oh
u wr on the phone?
wid ur ex?


balls_of_steel:
Ex, note xactly.
But ex's are bitches. Bigtime.
A confession.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
nt true
nt always
cmon


balls_of_steel:
I can't think much now.
My mind is jammed.
Its a long bad story re.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
kya hua re?
what she talk about?


balls_of_steel:
nothing. All bullcrap.
maybe, some guy dumped her of late.
And what am i.?
Spare wheel.?


the_g@l_i_just_met:
cmon
maybe she was just depressed
wanted smone she can trust to talk to
so she called you


balls_of_steel:
Tell you what.? For the record, She is not a nice lady.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
ok maybe i shldt comment whn i dnt knw her


balls_of_steel:
Or maybe i just hate her, unconditionally.
But to be honest
~ before she happened to me, Ex-Gfs used to be so much fun.
But not anymore.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
lolz
wats that supposed to mean


balls_of_steel:
I said na, bahut lamba story.
I'll tell you over coffee kal, maybe.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hau (alright)
muh sunibi (I'm all ears)
How's your mood now?


balls_of_steel:
Yes. Metallicca helps.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hmmm
sun i gtg offline
muh moh frnd lappy ru online thli (Been online from a friend's notebook)
i ll try to cm online
so unless i cm online again,
nite nite
sd
n peace to you.


balls_of_steel:
yes. I like peace.
good nite


--the_g@l_i_just_met has logged out. When the fuck will you? And oh, you can send an off-liner given that you are such a prick and such a dummy like the_g@l_i_used_to_date had told you, in the face. Yes, that bitch. Or so you assume. Now just try suppressing the involuntary frustration you have in you and stop stalking good girls under my nose. Please get a life you ass, for your own good. Your's truly, Chat Engine--

Phone a Friend

So, Miss Kapoor.. this is a certainly a moment that would define your life. Are you nervous?, the host orated with a impeccable, impressive baritone that sounded like that a angry young man's.
"Okay, Miss Naina Kapoor, there goes the 13th question. For Five crore rupees on your screen now.->

Which among these is known as the city of joy?


a. Calicut
b. Tuticorin
c. Calcut.... "

And she woke up all of a sudden, from a almost deep sleep. She had her head buried in her arms on the hot seat for the last twenty minutes or so. She could see production assistants running around the sound stage with continuity sheets and cola-cans. The PIC was shouting on the top of his voice on a mere gaffer boy to tighten the bolts of the boom rod. The game show host stood a few feet far away from the hot-seats discussing lines with the copy-writer. Her eyes at a sudden fell on the table below the host's 'Computerji' where lay a check of a 8-digit figure complete with initials of a signature which most of us bolly fanatics would kill for.
It was Mehboob Studios, Bombay. And Naina still pinched herself for she couldn't believe that she had made it into the 13th question, in actual.
The audience was gradually filling in the seats after the 5-min commercial break on National TV which in reality was a 30 minutes lunch break for the studio guys.

Two glasses of water and three minutes later, Naina was back to her normal self.
It had been a minute since the camera had started rolling and the audience had been clapping.

A while later.

"Okay, Miss Naina Kapoor, there goes the 13th question. For Five crore rupees on your screen now.->

With the binomial theorem in relation, what is it that appears on three vertices of an infinite Pascal triangle?


a. 22/7
b. Digit 0
c. Digit 1
d. a random recurring variable "


The game show host gave a deep, calculating expression after completing the question in a even more deeper baritone complemented with a usual panache.

She acted indifferent.
Now its time,she thought.
This is what she was waiting for.
And not giving him a chance to speak at all, she quipped, "Sir, i would like to use a lifeline."

The host- " Miss Kapoor. If i am not wrong, you happen to be a painter by profession. right?"

Naina- "Yes. I'm a student of vernacular arts, to be more specific."
That was in the most formal and trim manner she could make up of.

The Host- " So, at such a crucial point in the game and with four of the lifelines at your disposal, what would you choose? And for the record, this has happened for first time in the six year long history of this show."


Naina- "I wish to phone a friend."


To be Continued.

Rains.

Login.

Facebook-> Notes-> Write a Note-> 
Why do rains have to be so cruel, calculating and contemplative, condescending at times?
In a time like this, i feel like shedding a tear or two everytime it pours. Tears of pain, regret. Period. I can't stand that tear on Amma's eyes with whatever happened a while back. Even though it had always been destiny's call with stuff like this and nobody could avert such a thing, i so wish i could do a thing or two, to make her feel better. Even the pyre won't burn properly with such a rain around, I thought. But my heart did burn, nevertheless.
We have our own problems to take care of. Problems with grades, to begin with. We fuck it up, voluntarily.
Secondly, problems with girl(s). No matter how much we try to set things right, we end up screwed, involuntarily. But then isn't life about carrying all these many problems/issues/ complex/ think-of-a-more-cockier-name-shit in your satchel and moving on. Life has been shit, showing me the door, all this time.
So now, what do i do? give it back the shit? Or do i get busy with washing all the shit it's been giving me? In this very rain. Eh?
Was it the same me, who once upon a time used to eagerly wait for the showers?
And at times when they didn't materialise, would land himself into a prolonged fit of mood swings- the bad and ugly ones.? Bitch.
Save Draft-> Logout.

This one had been lying in my drafts since a year or so. This was when, it had first rained last year. Things were real bad then. High on emotions, i typed this out. Today's rain reminded me of this. Feeling the first rain, it never felt so good like today. Couldn't have asked for a better time to share this out. 
Life has taken a perfect circle. After reading this, i put forth my belief on the fact that time heals all.
Sure it does :)

Random Memoirs #2

Those blood-shot eyes screamed heart-break all over, yet again.

He took a glance at his wrist and grinned wickedly, almost like a kid.

The swiss knife did a pretty nice and neat job, he thought.

The pain had begun to slacken, as he slowly went off his senses and moved towards dreamscape.

Even though, his reddened eyes screamed vengeance, he could do nothing about it.

The doctors tried, and the nurses chanted silent prayers.

That's it, he said. and then he arised. He tore the ventilator pipes off his system.

When he reached the door of the cabin, he felt like turning back. And so he did.

They were busy zipping him up and the mortuary guys were pulling the strecher in.

He smiled at his flesh. He had never felt this way. this better.

Brk-Up

S,
When we were holding hands, sitting together on the bench at that so called 'Lover's Park' with your head resting  coyly on my shoulder, it was so beautiful, so lovely back then. Fuck! Did we actually love each other?
But how different are things now? They changed up so fast! For the good i guess.
I surely don't miss you at those weekend eat-out sessions at the Chaat Street or even when i'm dining alone at my flat after a boring office shift.
I'm not reminded of you even when i see the couples cosy-ing up at the beach At that moment, the good ol' Milds and a Masala Chai give me company.
I can still re-count that it was really sexy, the way you used to drink your tea. The one single bit of milk cream that stuck on the edge of your wet lips used to turn me on. I used to try hard to resist the urge to kiss you, which i failed to do so, Of course.
Now i don't miss you when i wake up to the mundane lonely mornings. Heck! i don't get it of why i always want to wake up to you. Even though i miss that black you make, The Latte' from Barista works for me. 
Its been a year and a half i guess, hope you have moved on. Honestly, i have got over it. Its over for me. But still there are bits and pieces of  you in me that i need to detach myself from get rid of.
And believe me S, its the toughest part. I'll try to do it my way, don't worry. For i kissed a cactus and it showed me the love.
 I know that you are pissed off on the fact that i didn't speak to you at Shrav's wedding last week. The truth is that i was too drunk to stand upright. The text you sent me later that evening in you said that i'm immature, i was hurt. But believe me baby, all it took me was three shots of Absolut to blank out. I didn't give a shit to it.


Okay this is it. Maybe i still love you, or maybe i don't. I'm confused, i don't know. 
Anyways, for the moment,
 My love is gone.
And i'll say that a hundred times over.


Your's in Pain,
S*

Broken. Part #2/3

This post is the second part of a Three-piece story. For those who wish to read it, Its highly recommended you through the first part of the story. Click here. And the ones who have already done it, Please proceed. For your kind consideration - 




"Everything's gonna be in place. Just in time." He still thought.


Separation.


TWO MONTHS LATER...


"Life's all Screwed Up."
              This was the 34th time he was tweeting the same message since he came home after his college had finished. He switched to the next tab of his browser which had a Wikipedia article on 'CLOZE'.


'CLOZE' was an anti-depressant.Technically speaking it is a grade II tranquilizer which in Clinical terms is known as 'Sleeping Pills'.
Suresh's father was one of the most respected persons in the city's business scene. His interests lied in Real estate, scrap iron trade. But his biggest business was the distribution of pharmaceutical drugs and medicines. He was a giant in this particular domain and almost all pharmacists and Doctors of the city, directly or indirectly dealt with him. 
No wonder, why Suresh had to check the dosages on the internet instead of seeing a doc and fetching the pills through an acquaintance instead of buying it himself, Over the counter.
He reached for his drawer, took out a tablet from the strip of six, swallowed it in a moment and gulped down water in another. It tasted sweet. "So does Poison..", he thought.
A heavy stupor drove him to a state of sub-consciousness. The tab was kicking in and so did all those sweet bitter memories.
He re-counted their first meeting. Around three years ago.

 EXAM HALL- 31 / INTERNALS START IN 5 MINUTES -> The first encounter

  Suresh and Nidhi happen to be seat-mates.

S: " Guess what? Had 7 cups of coffee last night, and a peg o' Vodka this morning. The perfect solution to the perfect combo of Nocturnal studies and early morning exam blues."

N: " Why you saying that to me? I'm least bothered. don't you see?"

S: "Ummm..I thought, You might just be interested."

N: "stop dreaming, Drunko! And yes, Coffee/Vodka won't do any good to your paper. Cramming some formulae at this eleventh hour might just help..H= I²RT, H_rms=0.637I²R…...."

'Beep beep..Ghrrr..Beep beep', his phone buzzed to some stupid tele-marketing text, frustrating enough to wake him up from sleep.
He checked the time.
Fuck! It was 2AM and he had been asleep for nearly 13 hours.
He Pee-ed and then came back to the drawer. this time, he wanted more, a double dose maybe. Yes, he hated being awake, being in sense. He tried his best but couldn't accept things as they were.In short, he detested reality and gulped down two, sorry three pills at a time.
He was killing himself and he very well knew that, but wish he could help it.
This time, in his state of trance he did something he hadn't done before. He wanted to peek into it once before he could incinerate it, or himself.
He reached for the drawer and took out the cream colored card-board envelope which read,

||  शुभ विवाह ||

This card was something different, he marked. A killer in disguise. He opened the envelope and slowl, gently pulled out the card, he gazed into it for five minutes and said to himself, "this ain't reality. 'am on a high and am stoned. nd this isn't happening..."

He slept off..... 
He woke up all of a sudden.Despite the pills, he couldn't get a proper sleep. This time however, he woke up in his senses.The first thing he did was to reach for the invite.
This card was something different, like he had marked. Yes, the names of the groom and the bride were missing on the envelope.


He opened the card and read:

OM SHRI........Our Daughter

Nidhi

Weds

_________________

...........................

.........RSVP.........

  ...................

There were two more paper sheets in the envelope he had skipped and now wanted to see.

The first one read ->

"FILL IN THE BLANKS DUFFR.

DIY."

"MUAAH! KISSES! HUGS!

AND APOLOGIES. IN CASE ITS NECESSARY."

"In case its necessary!!", he grinned as he read and went on the the second sheet which read something like this ->

"MARRY ME? PLIJJJ? :P

PS: ON GETTING THIS DO NOT BOTHER CALLING

ME UP. MEET ME AT THE HALFWAY, YOU KNOW WHERE.

6:30PM.

I'LL BE WAITING, BYE."

He knew where.

(contd.)

Lolli-Pop

He took out another pill from the packet. He reached for the can of Diet-Coke from the fridge. The bearings of his Wheel-chair were gaining Junk, he thought as he moved out from the Kitchen.

This is it, he thought....

He opened the can, Popped in the tablet, Took a sip and felt the effect kicking in. The Tab hit home.

What worse could get with David and things around him. He was a diabetic since he joined the Police service and was on wheelchair when he was rendered unfit to serve them anymore, officially he was sent on a vacation-a indefinite leave. A screwed up marriage, a wasted daughter,a sick dog. how much worse could it get??

His eyes fell on the Post-it note sticked to the refrigerator. It read like this-

" Me at Martha's place. Will be late. Linda won't be returning tonight.
  Shez gotta nyt-out with classmates. And feed Anabelle, feed Yourself,
  The medicines i mean.."

It was his wife. One of the many notes he used to discover after his daily afternoon siestas.

He reached for the Post-it notepad, took the Mont-Blanc pen of his and started writing, Scribbling actually.

" I just can't take it anymore. This was my third pill in the evening. I can't see Linda
 like this. No sensible Daddy can. Yes, I just fed Anabelle. Take an appointment with the
 Vet. Unlike me, She needs attention.


PS- Todd's a great guy. I know you must be surprised to know that i've been keeping
tabs on you. But still, Go on. Maybe, he screws with you better."


He stuck the note on the Fridge, finished his coke and wheeled towards his room.


He forwarded to the closet, Looked one last time at his Service ranks and his uniform. He reminded himself of his golden years as an encounter specialist and forgot it a moment later.


With his service Revolver his hand and the finger around the trigger, he sat on the wheelie besides the window  and started playing Lolli-Pop with the gun.




This Post is a solemn tribute to those officers who served the police with their best possible sincerity and valor and apathy of the later that they faced when they were rendered unfit to serve further.

Petrified...

"Come down to my place, u'll like it here."

"but, then don't you think its a bit late?"

Deb checked his watch. It was 8pm. In a place called Bbsr, 8pm was considered late. Nope i ain't kiddin, it actually was.

"No, mom won't have a problem. Tum chale aana. See yu.", Jia cut the phone.

As per Deb's words, they were semi-dating. Really dunno what that's meant to mean. They were yet to know and understand each other. After all, Deb shifted to Bbsr just a week ago and joined the Varsity. No they weren't classmates. Jia was friend of Deb's hostel mate's girlfriend. Sparks flew off at a Fresher's party when they met each other and Deb kept telling himself that she was one. He made sure, they were in contact. After all, he was not a dude, He was THE dude. Yes she was beautiful. To him, she was the Most. Her voice, her childish accent was just enough. Forget the looks. She had cut marks on her wrists, maybe courtesy a failed relationship, Deb thought . From whatever Deb had heard from Vijan, his roomie she had never been with a guy all her life. And by some good fortune, Deb was to be the first, Almost.

"Maybe this girl's got a death wish", Deb thought as he reached Jia's door. Her maid asked him to wait and went in to call Jia.

"Hieeee!!", it was Jia.

Deb-"This is for you".

He had got a Bournville for it was too early to get her a Bourbon, Jack Daniels :P.

J- "thank youu..Dinner kar diya btw? I know, the mess food is al crap, ryt?"

D- "Yep it is, but i just had a chai before coming down. So."

J- "okay, koi fite nahin. We'll have it later. Mom ne aaj Raajma banaya. Curry specialist yu know."

"why on the Earth is this girl chanting on her mom at every other chance?", Deb thought.

J-"Acha, did Vijan say you about the culturals? We, the Economics dept people are doing it. Need some suggestion rey."

D-" Vijan, all he talks about is Weed, weed and weed. Dhatt! Imma thinking of changing rooms. "

J-"Ooooo..mai Babeee hates Weed....I bet it, Mom's surely gonna love you."

D-"(smiles...), by the way, Do you dope, i mean do you like weed and al?"

J- "Vijan can be genereous at times. Me, Archie(Vijan's girl) and Vijan at my terrace. Weed, some booze and Pink Floyd. Heaven."

D-"Hmmm, my mom warned me to stay away from girls like you. They get you wasted.(grins)."

J-"Nautanki!!aarrrgh, my throat...feels like somebody's stabbing me. Deb, i'll be back huh, need to use the washroom."

D-"yup."

Deb then got up and went from the dining table to the living room. He had heard from Archana that Jia was quite good a photographer. "Yu shud see her living room dude", Archie had once told him. She was refering to Jia's pictures.

Deb looked up the wall opposite him. Like, archie said, they were beautiful....

And most of the pics were of a same woman.

" Who-ever she is, She's pretty, Though she looks a bit aged, She's pretty, no doubt.", Deb thought.

All of a sudden, he was distracted by a 'Nahheeeeen' sound which sounded from that of a Tv soap. Heck!, the maid was watching Tv on the other end of the room.

Deb-"Bai, yeh kaun hai? ", he asked the maid about the woman in the photographs.

Maid-"yeh to baby-ji k mummy-jii hain."

Deb- "Bahaut khub-soorat hain.."

Maid- " Thi, ab woh nahin rahe. Do saal pehle woh ek accident main guzar gaye..."

the maid then said a silent prayer....maybe in the memory of the Departed.

"Lets have dinner? M hungry re. Can't wait anymore. I'll just go and fetch the dishes.", Jia said as she emerged from her room and headed towards the kitchen.

And Deb stood. Petrified.

eMoTiOnAL AtTYacHAaRR...

"Faala(read-Saala:P)...aaji eve ta poora barbaad hei gala!!(buddy...dis evening was a waste)"...Patel said as he lit up another Davidoff.The strobe lasers behind the DJ's deck were flashing on our corner and the smoke from his cig reddened up which would have resembled blood if it ever had a gaseous state :P.Yes we were at Ten Downing Street....

A much awaited rock gig of the town had got delayed and this pissed us off, actually dissappointed us.Yes,a pretty known B-School of the country-XIM,had dissappointed us, ditched us officially. Who on the earth would like to watch a gig if you start the sound-check at 9:30pm,that too with two of the performing bands backing-off at the eleventh hour?OK,enough of the Journo stuff,coming to the point we were in no mood to wait.So we left ASAP.

Finally the five moody emotional bastards-Raan,Patel,Ahmed,Casanova,Moi headed towards TDS,that too on a friday-night which meant not a weekend,a bit cheap booze,shit music,no crowd...so eventually no legs and thighs as Raan lamented :(. As we entered the pub,we seemed like Gorrillas in Antartica. There 'actually' were no partying people out there.All i could see were a band of waiters who seemed unemployed, for the night.They were busy watching some stupid soap on a silver-bordered flat panel.Somebody should teach this people to not watch such stuff atleast on a TV like this,else i would send a few ninjas to shove off these people's as*#$, would love to actually. We chose a table and parked our asses. A group of who seemed like corporate people complete in their suit-boots sat on a far-end.They seemed pretty unstable,emotionally.All of them were actually crying in a sync(BOOZE WORKS WONDERS!!!). Imagine such people who run companies and stuff, whom other people envy and perceive as emotionally-challenged individuals were actually weeping.To me,it seemed like a the group of those senior-citizen uncles who sat at my neighbourbood park in the evenings talking about what new tantrums their daughters-in-law threw in,how their scheming sons used to cunningly sneak out their pension-books and draw out money,how soon would their medicines get over and stuff before breaking into a melancholy.

So where was I? yes TDS.Such sights worsened our moods.Being honest,the thought of these senior citizens aggravated mine.I was in my all time low maybe.Somebody among us started crying,don't rememeber who.I didn't care.(NO!!..of course,it wasn't me!!)

"Dude...whatever respect i had for XIM,i just lost it an hour ago.",Casanova said Patel as he took a sip of his Lemon-soda."Point...","So toh hai..", Me and Ahmed replied in reflex.Nobody had booze that night because we were not in a mood to.

Something needed to rescue us.....SOMETHING,SOMEBODY.

Then played a track called "Right Round->Flo-Rida|OST-The Hangover".All of us jumped off our chairs and headed towards the floor,our lemon soda glasses in our hands intact.It was just five of us there,yes we were the 'crowd' tonight, everyone's 'entertainment' tonight.The DJ had RESCUED us.A guy with his son,a 4-5 year old kid joined us.This kid a few minutes ago had snatched his dad's vodka peg and when denied,he started crying.It took his mother's all emotional strength(emotions again!!) to calm him down.Kids you know.

And all that it took to lift our spirits was this track.All the 5 of us love this track in particular and i guess i don't need to say anything about the movie.Ahmed has watched the movie a good 39 times.Still if i sound nuts to you people, please take the pain of you-tubing "The Hangover-Theaterical Trailer".One of my fav movies ever.Watch the teaser if you haven't yet...its worth every mb downloaded.

More emotions??Anyone??

Cheers To Life:Good Ol' Days

Venue- at the tarmac of the ruins of the old airport, Bhubaneswar
Date- Raan's B'day | Time- watch had stopped working :P

Raan finally was giving us guys a treat on his b'day, thanks to the mind games Patel had
played to convince him. The same evening,few hours later he was to board a flight to join his
bro out in Bangalore. So we had to decided to party out somewhere nearby. He had got his
backpack and it was the first time he was traveling alone.
"where's da booze?? Bring it on Bi-a-tch!!!!", Casanova exclaimed.
"Raha..patel must be on his way back", Baman da answered
Just then Patel called up on my cell.
patel-"hullo..aur kya laaoon?? KingCan six tho,do bottle smirnoff aur ek officer's choice ho
gaye. 100 bucks bach gaye."
me-"mere aur happy ke cigs?"
patel-"haan hai..pakode bhi laa diye, aur bolo.."
me-"bas ek matchbox laa le toh achha hoga, i don't have one"
me-"bedha!! thik hai..on my way". he hung up.
Meanwhile happy had started unpacking raan's backpack.A bottle of Deo, a pair of old
rugged jeans, sunglasses and then came a small packet with a pic of a really hot chick on it.
It read 'Moods-Ribbed'. All eyes were on Raan. Raan explained,"u know.. Bangalore got
really awesome girls, if i find one then this might help.u never know guys. :P"
me-"But you can always buy one out there na.."
Raan- yea i know mate..but anyways what do they call it in the local lingo?"
Baman da-" see now Bangalore is known as Bengaluru..so this may be turn out to be
'Protectionuru'??
"HAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!"..both me and Happy laughed like demons from those hindu
mythological soaps. Raan just grinned. Casanova was on the phone.All this left Baman Da
confused. Perhaps he expected us to burst out laughing on this joke.

Meanwhile Patel had arrived with the Booze. After a bout of drinks, Casanova exclaimed-
"i treated her like a princess and she treated me like a slave..bitch she is. BEE-A-Tch she
is.." I guess he started crying by then.
Few moments later Raan consoled him,"shit happens..dude..move on"
"I may throw up any moment..urghh..", it was baman da. I in a jiffy grabbed out a pack of
napthalene balls, opened them and put it under his nose. Moments later he said"Thanx man,
I LOOUU UU.."

The scene was getting more and more sad. Someone needed to cheer them up. I stood and
said," Dude now that u are going southbound, i need you to get a dvd of this southie flick.
Don't remember its name though."
"In that case how the _|_ am i to get it??", Raan said.
Me-"wait i'll try singing a few lines of a song of that movie..maybe that would help...."
Patel jumped up-"Garam Chaa Dhaalidebi to muhaare.Telenga gita gaaiba salaa"
He said this pointing his Beer can on me.
Generally among our troop, Patel was known to be the one who used to retain the most
control even after all that booze.A tanker he was indeed. But now he was down.Tragedy.

Time flew away like the planes did. The ones that flew past us as we boozed(and i smoke).
Then Happy said it was already the check in time for Raan's flight. Five minutes later, we
were at domestic terminal of the airport(there is no international one FYI). Everyone bade
goodbye to him.
Happy- "Dude..have a awesome time out there."
Patel and Baman da-" BANG BANG IN BANGALORE DUDE!!!"
Me-" Play it safe mate....only if you have to"
Casanova-"Haaaapi B'day dude"(full talli)

After all this we returned homes.

An hour later my cell beeped to a text message from Raan.

"At home now, was heavy on alcohol,they
had a test done. Grounded me. btw dey askd
for a guardian's no.,gave yours. do the
needful f dey cal up. Yea i board my flight
day after tomorrow, so kal phir peene chalte
hai..same place same time..aww alc rocks dude!!!"


This is a work of fiction....Just inspired by true events,

,and an ode to my homies and the great times that we had together.

Cheers folks!

Cheers to Life!!

O pardesi....o pardesi!!!
meetha sa chadha hai bukhar....

The song played away as Patel opened up another pint of smirnoff. Everyone raised up their glasses. It was an evening to remember.Had to be. The location of the party was just perfect. 3kms off NH5 towards left, On the sun-kissed sand beds of the River Kua-khai.The sand carrying trucks had just left. We had parked our bikes back at the bank. The road as almost 300 meter from the bank. We had our bikes grounded( parked them without the stand) so that we could be not noticeable to the PCRs who used patrol the road. It was around a quarter to six.It was teh time of sunset. Nobody was on a high, even after a round of drinks. Suddenly sambalpooriya stood up and addressed -" salla nai chadhe...edkum gol re baskini piba..mast chadhiba." Meanwhile me and Ahmed had finished another pack of cigs(we don't drink na) with a bit of help from Baman da and Happy. Happy's eyes seemed red through his glasses.I guess he had his thing raw. Giving a childlike innocent smile he started off singing "dola re...dola re..". Now it was official, One guy was on a high. Sambalpooriya and Baman da stripped off their shirts and said patel"aaa--aame maan--ee ga--gadhei jaa-uchu." hell they wanted to have a bath in the river.WTF!. Ahmed exclaimed- "Sam! bag sey ek neembu kaat ke laa". Yes we felt baman bhai and sambalpooriya needed it.They were heavily drunk.
Suddenly Raan took off his tee and threw it in the air. It landed a bit far away. He exclaimed-"Run Hara!! Run!!!". Another soldier of our troop, Mr.Harish sprinted behind the shirt.Patel ran behind Hara. After all this Run fun affair got over, we started eating. We had got a plenty of Pakodas back from CRP square.Ahmed and me jumped on the packet of pakodas. We were dead hungry since an hour or so and with the cigs around, it just aggravated the hunger. The song that was playing now-

"maahi ve..mohabata....mangda naseeba.....kismet k maare..asi ki kariye."

Raan then started crying. Missing his girl perhaps.The song started casting its spell. It took 3 guys(eh! men) and 15 mins to get him back to life. Then we realised that it was around 8pm. Hell. Baman da's cell which was playing the music stopped and started buzzing. "SSHH..BOPPA KA PHONE HAI". he said. He had a 5 mins talk and then we left the place in no time.On the way back on the highway, one could see Raan and me singing-

"LADY HEAR ME TONIGHT, CUZ MY LOVE IS JUST SO RIGHT......
AND I KNOW THAT IS TRUE, I CAN TELL BY THE LOOK IN UR EYES"


This is a work of fiction....Just inspired by true events,

,and an ode to my homies and the great times that we had together.

Cheers folks!

The Midnight Train

29th August, 2007
The station tower clock struck 12. The station officials started winding up their work for the day and queued outside the station-master's cabin to sign out in the logbook. The hourly patrols by the RPF began by then. A southbound train screeched to a halt. Sarayu, a RPF constable who was drunk by then wanted to pee. He boarded a sleeper coach of the train and advanced to the toilet. While peeing, he heard a sound which seemed like a child crying from one of the compartments in the same coach. Ignoring it, he took out a bottle of country liquor from his pocket. As he was ready to gulp it down, he heard the same noise again.Now it was something fishy for sure, he thought. He forwarded to check the origin of the noise. On reaching the compartment he saw three people busy playing cards. The rest of the compartment seemed empty.
Sarayu was known in his professional circle for his notorious habit of drinking. Despite this, he had won the Chief minister's medal for the best cop seven years in a row. Now he still suspected foul play about the people playing cards. He saw criminals in them. Not wanting to take a chance, he informed the other patrol officers and they raided the compartment. What they found was worse than hell. Under the seats and on the top berths were present children aged around 10-15 years. The count was 15 till now. The three people tried to escape through the other side, but their ill luck favored them with another batch of patrol members waiting for them on the opposite exit. They were caught. The city police was informed and it quickly swung into action. The three people were arrested and the children were also taken into custody.
The railway police station never seemed so much active as today. It was 3am and the city was still asleep. By the dawn one could see a number of prominent people in the police station. Senoir Bureaucrats, prominent social workers and representatives of those big NGOs, lawyers as usual(as they smelled money even here) were here to know the case. The media was barred from all the happenings inside the station.
Newspaper reports came out a day later. Most of them reported it as a child trafficking case. It was true. The 15 children were from the siliguri region of west Bengal. They were being taken to kerala where they were promised jobs in industries. Identity cards retrieved from two persons claimed that they worked for a private hospital in Munnar, Kerala. The third person spoke Bengali and it seemed like he was the broker.The same day they were convicted rigourous imprisonment by a fast track court and the children were relocated to a child welfare home in the city operated by a very prominent NGO.
The people forgot this case in due course of time. Weeks later another report from a reputed Malayalam daily exposed that a hospital in Munnar was illegally transplanting human organs mostly of children to the patients from the middle east countries.
This was the same hospital whose name was the on the ID cards of the two convicts.

26th January, 2008-Republic Day Function
Sarayu woke up to a start on his seat. The suit complete with the tie didn't fit him well. He wore them for the sake of his grandson and on his wife's insistence.The long speech by the governor just got over. The prize distribution ceremony had just started and rounds of applause followed. Then the host announced
"and the chief minister's medal for the best officer( railway protection force) goes to....."
NO PRIZES FOR GUESSING THIS!!!

(Disclaimer- This story is a work of fiction. It bears no resemblance to any incident or event.)