Saturday, December 31, 2011

My Story- Part 2

Story so far: Rosalind braces herself to meet her daughter, feigning memory loss in order to hide some taints of her past. she begins to write in her diary the conversation with her daughter she couldn't hold in person and eats from the box of chocolates that her daughter, Amber had brought. To read the 1st part click here.

*  *  *

“A clear case of high pressure with blood sugar. The blood veins in the brain couldn’t stand the pressure and burst. Instant death”, the new medical examiner, Clara was saying. 

She was a short, fair woman of about 35 years; with flaming red hair and soft, kind eyes. Everyone seemed to be shocked by the sudden death of Rosalind Mary who was presumably hale and hearty in her 30 years of prison life otherwise.

The inspector in charge, Parker was saying in frustrated tones, “that guard woman. I don’t know why the hell we keep her here. The daughter passed her a box of chocolates under her nose and she remains completely oblivious to it!”

“I warned Rosalind time and again to stay away from excess sugar. And before this, she never was inclined to turn against our word. I wonder why…” Clara trailed off.

“Well that’s true. Mrs. Winston was a particularly trouble free prisoner. I mean if it weren’t for the case of murder coupled with insanity, we were actually thinking of her release on the basis of her good conduct. A quiet, thoughtful woman. Used to be of great help in the gardens and was an excellent adviser for editing of the monthly news letter. She was a great journalist after all.” Parker said thoughtfully.

“A journalist?” Clara asked surprised.

“You haven’t heard about the famous Winston case?” it was now, Parker’s turn to be surprised.

Clara shook her head.
 “It was well before your time anyways”, Parker settled himself comfortably in his chair and indicated Clara to sit down too. Clearing his throat in a chatty manner, he started the story-

“Roger Winston was a very famous Hollywood actor. A complete philanderer, had dozens of girlfriends and all the usual stuff. Used to be quite a public figure too, with all his Greek-God looks and good-will charm. So it was a surprise to all his admirers when a sudden marriage between Rosalind Mary and Roger Winston was announced. Well, not announced really; more like happened as a consequence to a series of unknown events. Now, Rosalind at that time was a brilliant journalist with a completely clean history. So it was more than a mystery how this patch up between two most unlikely public figures happened. Rumors say that there was some matter of pregnancy and stuff and she actually threatened to sue him at the court. “

“Whatever it was, the matter was all ‘hush-hush’ and the truth never really came out. They had a quiet marriage and within a year this girl child was born. And then- suddenly, the family disappeared from the face of the earth!”


“Yes. Though Winston appeared in a few films after that, he remained completely oblivious to the press and their questions about his family. His career was going downhill too; most of his films at that time were great flops and it was also rumored that he was heavily buried in debts in his attempts of reestablishing his stature. So slowly, Roger Winston and his fame died down slowly. And then when one mystery seemed to die down, another sprung up.”

“And what was that?” Clara asked with bated breath.

“His sudden and shocking murder” parker stated flatly.


“Yes. The Winston was brutally killed with several stabs on his neck and spine. And there was only a single person at the scene of crime - his wife”

“You mean Rosalind? But that’s impossible! She seemed so… so…” Clara was at a failure for words.

“That’s how most of the murderers are like my dear. Outside all soft and gentle but inside their hearts, if they have any, are tough as a hazel nut.
Cutting of the psychology of murderers let me tell you about the two interesting facts that came to be associated with this murder case. These were such that they changed the whole direction of our line of investigation.”

“And what were they?”

“The first was that Rosalind completely lost her memory after the accident. We arrested her only on the basis of the clear evidences that pointed to her obvious guilt. Like her fingerprints on the weapon (in this case, a knife) and also, she was the only person present at the time of the crime. Needles to say, she would have been able to throw more light on the case- like what was the motive, what the charges could be brought down too, but as I said, her memory loss made this matter more of a mystery.”

“But how is that possible? I mean, a shocking trauma can hardly account for memory loss when there is no sort of a physical imprint.”

“That’s what baffled the police at that time too. But on careful inspection, it was found that it was a clear case of domestic violence”

Parker took a particular satisfaction from the frank look of surprise on Clara’s face.

“We found several wounds on her body and a particular wound on her forehead that would probably account for her memory loss.”
After a momentary silence, Clara asked “and what was the 2nd element of interest?”

“Well, that was something police could never unravel. As I mentioned before, there were several stabs on Winston’s back. But only a single one, at the sensitive spot of beginning of the spinal cord, medulla oblongata to be precise, caused the death. All the other stabs were made after the demise.”

“But what is so surprising in that? I mean, you get to see that most of the times. She must have stabbed him repeatedly in vindication!”

“That’s where the twist in the tale lies. The baffling thing about this is that the single blow that caused death was made by a different hand than those of the others”, Parker said, his eyes gleaming.

“you mean Rosalind was guarding someone else? But that’s preposterous!”

“What that lady was trying to do is something we never got to know. Because she lost her memory.” Parker said wryly.

“That was convenient” Clara said thoughtfully.

“but that certainly closed the case” Parker added.

Sighing, Clara said “it’s a pity, the mystery was never got cleared up. It has various elements that capture the human mind”.

Parker’s eyes glinted again as he leaned forwards and murmured. “I think that there still is some space for clearing up this mystery”.


“We still have this” parker took out a rusty diary and held it for Clara’s inspection.

“Rosalind’s diary?” she asked skeptically.

Without a word both shifted closer and Clara took a deep breath before opening it. “Isn’t this… wrong?” she asked.

“She’s dead for God’s sake” but there was a hint of guilt in his tone. But curiosity got better of them and thus unraveled the hidden mystery.

The first entries were mainly about her journalist days and then after a while they struck on the exact thing that they were looking for…

22nd may 1971

                                   He was beating me as usual but I didn’t even bother to cry out aloud- my cries would go unheard. My little daughter was standing at the doorway, bafflement on her face; she was too small to understand what was going on. I prayed that he wouldn’t see her; he was drunk and more like an animal than ever; he was capable of doing anything.

But that day, it became more violent than usual. He went on striking me relentlessly, blaming me for every bad that happened with him, asking me for the money I didn’t have. “Give me the money, you bitch” he hit me hard across the face but I kept silent, waiting for the storm to subside. “Give me the money, I said. I know you have hidden heaps with you, saving for your daughter are you? Trying to make her bitch like you?” he yelled, mirthless laughter escaping from his lips.

I still kept silent, but I could feel the hot lava of anger boiling my blood.

Give me the money, or I will wring the neck of your junk of a daughter” he screamed.

His words finally ignited the anger that I had been restraining so long.

“Don’t call my daughter anything, you scoundrel,” I said, my anger putting the energy in me that I didn’t feel or have.

“Your daughter is she? Are you forgetting that she is my dirt too?” He taunted me, a cruel smile on his lips.

“She is not dirt. It is you who are born out of the mud.” I spluttered in anger and for a second, just for a second, my eyes wandered to where Amber was standing. She had by now guessed that something weird was happening and looked almost at the verge of tears. Before I could avert my eyes, Roger went and picked her up in his arms.

“Do you want to see a show sweetie?” He asked sweetly. This time, my fear overpowered my anger and I searched desperately for a way to save my daughter from the clutches of this cruel monster.

“Put me down daddy, I am feeling hungry”, she whined. “Come to me darling”, I said. “Keep her down Roger”, I whispered, panicking by now.

“What if I just drop her down Rose? Or better what if I…” he picked up the knife from the dining table and held it to her neck. I nearly fainted then, but I forced myself to be strong. Amber, who just a kid of 3 by then, couldn’t grasp the reality of what was going on. For her it was all play; she had seen her father do things like this on the TV before.

“Kill me roger, but leave my daughter. Please. I beg you”. I cried, tired of the fight I had been fighting all along; for the person for whom I was fighting was now at stake.

“How can I kill you so easily Rose? Won’t you give me the satisfaction of tearing you up into pieces, like you did with my entire career?” He wiped the blade on my cheek, my tears merged with the blood that flowed.

Amber finally understanding something was wrong started wailing. Interrupted in his sadistic pleasure by her cries, he hit my baby hard across her face and in a shock, she stopped crying. 

In frenzy, he dropped her down and advanced on her, to do, God knows what; when I grabbed him from behind with whatever strength was left in me. He stumbled, the knife clattered to the floor and he knocked me down. Sitting on my midriff, he banged my head continuously on the ground, a stream of profanities escaping his lips. Just as I was losing my unconsciousness, a gush of blood fell on my dress and I saw the last remains of his handsome face crumble into terror and shock. I felt the apprehension one might feel before a terrible, terrible happening when he fell sideways and I was left to see a sight that still haunts me in my dreams.

Amber was standing behind him, the knife in her hand and a curious look on her face. “This is a show isn’t it mommy?” She asked me innocently. “Daddy said he is doing a show! The bad guy should have fallen. Daddy was playing the bad guy. Isn’t it mommy?”

 She smiled at me and I almost succumbed in the pain and fear of what had happened.

My angel of a daughter- a murderer

No, no, no. 

My mind screamed. Do something Rose, save your daughter. 

I got up with great effort, my head swimmed but I reached out for my baby and took the knife from her hand. 

“Why isn’t daddy up, mommy? The show is over” she said, a bit puzzled.

Forcing myself to think, I said “it’s not over yet sweetie. Daddy has to stay like this for a while. And you don’t have a part in this show dearest.”

“But I have, mommy” she insisted, “I am the good guy, you see”, She said proudly. I made the bad guy hurt. She gleefully pointed to her father. 

Tears welling in my eyes, I said “yes you are the good girl. Now go wash your hands, change your clothes and go to play at Sarah’s. Ask her mother to come here. Do this fast now, there is very little time. The real good guys would be coming soon. There’s my good girl.”

 I coaxed her to leave the house and she went away obediently. Closing the door behind her, I carefully wiped off her fingerprints on the knife and holding it both my hands, plunged into Roger’s back and neck. The outpouring blood made me sick and the copper and rust smell of it brought bile to my throat. 

Then I banged my head twice on the fallen chair, it didn’t take long for my head to crack open. I hope they would account my lack of memory with that. With everything set, I waited to pass out unconscious so that when I opened my eyes, I would be ready to play the part that destiny had kept in store for me. 

The part that was more than a necessity; a part that I had embraced happily only because it would keep the cloud of guilt and crime away from my lovely daughter. People were cruel. This world was cruel. If the truth came out, she would have her innocence tainted forever and would live to regret the parents she had. No. I loved her too much to allow that. I couldn’t see her rot with guilt and shame. And so I did what any mother would do- sacrificed my life for my daughter. 

A part of me screamed with the pain that I would never be able to see my daughter grow up; all my dreams in making her a strong, lovely woman fell apart like a castle of cards, but this wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the time for moping and regrets. This was the time of a new beginning; only that a ‘new beginning’ in my case was comically ironical; I was nothing but a long, cruelly stretched out past, intermingling my present, erasing my non-existent future. And so, I waited, watching the clock tick silently. I waited, for the new phase of my life to begin…

                                                     * * *

Inspector parker felt that suddenly his throat had gone all lumpy and mushy. Clara was weeping freely, her tears ruining the office files on parker’s desk. They silently turned the pages only to see the imaginary conversations Rosalind had held with her daughter; writing down all the unspoken words, remembering each phrase, the exact timber of her daughters voice. And then on the very last page, after the last conversation she had written, there was a poem:

I sit pensive in my cell
In the beams of the shy sun rays I see-
The smile that livens up your face,
And puts a new life in me.

I gave my life, my love
Only for that brightness in your eyes
I don’t complain, I never did that
But the truth you’ll never realize.

I keep myself away from you,
 I don’t want to eclipse your joy
So I imagine your face in my heart
Using the light as my decoy

But I have you in my soul, my love;
A place where no one can steal
But sometimes I want to cry out loud-
Come to me my love, erase my pain, the wounds I feel.
Come to me my child, take me in your arms, I don’t have a heart of steel

* * *

“Are you going to give this to her?” Clara asked, wiping her nose noisily.
“And remind her of a crime she doesn’t even have an inkling of? We don’t have a heart of stone, Doctor. I am going to burn this diary. The truth will ruin the kid’s life”.
Clara nodded ruefully and they sat watching the drops of blood on the very last page. It seemed as if they were screaming the unspoken story of Rosalind’s love and sacrifice.

* * *

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

My Short Story-1

*I am posting this on the insistence of Animesh, a fellow Indiblogger. I had no intention of posting it mainly because it is a sad one and stuff but well, doing it all the same. Hope you all like it. i errr... dont have a title for it yet. Any suggestions would be welcome :)*

 It felt as if the sun rays were entering through her dark, dingy cell after an eternity.
They struck her once pretty face, illuminating her lifeless soft, blue eyes with light; but the outer light could do nothing to erase the vacant darkness of her insides.

It seemed as if the brightness had brought her back to reality, and she slowly turned her stiff neck to bask the streaming sunlight fully. Her fingers worked monotonously, as if counting something, probably the days of the week; it seemed as if she had forgotten their use. They came to a sudden stop, as if they had encountered something very unpleasant and slowly, very slowly tears pooled up in her beautiful eyes, the glassy clarity of the salt water bringing life and emotion to their blank look. Her tears spilled over on her dirty cheeks, reminding her of the thing that was causing so much pain- it was the day her daughter came to meet her.

It was the same routine every three months. She would wait with anticipation to see her daughter’s lovely face, see in those familiar blue eyes the life she couldn’t live. But as the day would dawn, all her nervous apprehension would turn into fear and doubt; she would recline within herself, the chains that she had tied herself with 30 years would rattle ominously, warning that one wrong gesture would give the whole thing away…

She steeled herself mentally for the role she had to play every time- the torturous role of insanity, of pretense that she was lost in an unknown world of her own.

Footsteps echoed in the narrow corridor outside her cell. With a loud bang, the iron shutters were thrown open. More footsteps were heard. A brief glimpse of the powerful electric lights entered the room as a soft creak of the door brought three people into the room.
“Mrs. Winston, your daughter”, the lady guard announced in a harsh rumble.

“Don’t call her with that name”, murmured a soft voice reproachfully.

Her heartbeat fastened. It was Amber, her daughter.

 “Rosalind Mary for you then miss!” the guard called out harshly and went outside laughing. There were two people in the room now. One was her beautiful daughter- tall, with soft brown hair lifted up in an elegant bun, the same beautiful blue eyes like that of her mother and small, delicate features.

The other person in the room was a tall, handsome man with straight black hair, aquiline nose and intelligent grey eyes that wandered warily between the mother and daughter.
Amber took a step forwards so that she was facing her mother and crouched down on her knew. A wave of sadness crashed on her beautiful features as she tried in vain to see a flicker of recognition in her mother’s eyes
Just once mother’, she thought. ‘For once remember who I am. Run your hand on my head, let me feel the wrinkles of your skin, call me by the name that you so fondly chose for me. I haven’t even heard your voice in my life’.

Controlling her emotions and fighting her tears she took her mother’s hands in her own and said softly. “How are you mother? Has your cough subsided completely yet? Did you take the medicine?” trying not to feel discouraged by her mother’s blank face, she said, “Look what I brought for you, mother. Swiss chocolates! They taste lovely mother. They would just melt in your mouth”. Looking into the replica of her own eyes, Amber whispered, “You would eat them, wont you?”

‘Just nod once mother,’ her eyes seemed to plead. ‘Just let me know that you’re still there’…

Giving up on her mother’s unresponsive demeanor, she shook her head sadly and a single, large droplet fell from her eyes on her mother’s hand. Instantly, the tall man was by her side; his protective arm around her shoulder ad his calm, grey eyes soothing her. Amber smiled at him and he nodded once, as if replying her unspoken question.

“Mother I have to tell you something” she started shyly. “This is Caleb. I am… we are… getting married” she blushed instantly, a lovely pink coloring her flawless cream colored cheeks. Her fiancĂ©e smiled gently at her embarrassment and took her hand in his. “Mother, I won’t be coming around so frequently now. Caleb and I are shifting to his place in Canada “. 

A sad look crossed her face. “I’m sorry mother. You have to look after yourself on your own now. I promise to look in whenever I can but I guess things would be little busier after… after marriage.” She blushed again. “but I will send a postcard every month and maybe the inspector would allow you to spend the Christmas with us” her voice sounded hopeful.

“Sorry to burst your bubble dearie, but the inspector won’t allow mad people out there”. 
Amber jumped as the harsh voice boomed from the doorway. 
“Who knows,” the guard continued “they might commit more murders than they are convicted for” she laughed harshly again and the malice in that taunt angered Amber and she said furiously, “my mother is not mad and she certainly isn’t a murderer!” 
“Then who killed your father then? Fell dead out of the sky did he? Or did you stick a knife into him yourself?” the guard went on cruelly, her eyes glinting in a wicked way.
“That’s quite enough” Caleb intervened in his cool, confident voice. “Anymore nonsense and I would have to report you to the sub divisional inspector.”, he said, his calm voice making the threat sound even more chilling. The guard backed away, a sulky expression on her face, as if a juicy piece of gossip had been taken away from under her nose. “One minute more”, she shouted before leaving”.

“You shouldn’t have said that Cal, they might be terrible to mother now.” Amber was saying. 
“you worry too much dear, nothing is going to happen”. Lowering his voice to a gentle whisper, Caleb continued, “but you have to accept the truth Amber. You can’t go on… go on defending what your mother did”.

Amber sighed sadly and said, “I’m not defending anyone Cal. It’s just…just so hard to face when someone says something like this so directly and so bluntly. And the fact that I can’t remember any of it just makes it worse”. 

“Of course you don’t remember any of it honey. You were just four when your father was killed”. 

“But she can’t remember anything either, does she?” Amber asked, pointing to her mother. “She wouldn’t, you would say, because she has lost her memory in the accident. But all of it sounds so fantastic that sometimes I think it’s just a big game being played with me.”

“Now, now; don’t get all worked up dear. There’s nothing you can do about it now. And whatever is the truth is right in front of your eyes. Your father’s death was always a mystery because the only eyes witness of his death was convicted for his murder and she lost her memory to throw any more light on it. This is the truth Amber. The facts in front of eyes can’t be lying. You can’t change it, so learn to live with it” Caleb said in a reassuring way.

“I wish you weren’t always so practical Cal. Women do like their fantasies you know”, Amber said, a lovely smile being hinted behind her childish pout. 

“And I don’t want my beautiful woman getting all worked up with fantasies that won’t take us anywhere”. Both of them were smiling then; looking into each other’s eyes.
It was with a soft expression on her face that Amber turned to her mother, kissed her cheek softly and said, “Goodbye mother. Take care of yourself and don’t worry about me too much.” 
With a final smile, both of them turned and left.

*    *    *

Rosalind waited till the last door was closed behind them till she let her painful past and excruciating present overpower her and succumb her to tears. ‘I don’t have any more strength God, save me from this agony’

With tears pouring down her cheeks, she rummaged within her dirty bed covers and pulled out a thick, rusty diary. The entire thing was filled with small, petite handwriting, with only a few empty pages left at the end. She opened the diary at one of the empty ones and started writing; started writing the words that she couldn’t voice out aloud.

“Mrs. Winston, your daughter”

“Don’t call her with that name”,

 “Alright, Rosalind Mary for you the miss!”

My heart swelled with pain as I heard the hidden anger and disgust in her quiet denial. I fought to keep myself calm but it was always a herculean task-  to keep my emotions at bay.

Her beautiful face, close enough for me to touch, was twisted in agony and resentment as I saw my blank, expressionless face mirrored in her eyes. But to reveal the truth now would be disaster; a complete disaster. So I relived the option that I chose that day, as I had been reliving it every day, every moment she was with me.

“How are you mother? Has your cough subsided completely yet? Did you take the medicine?”

I’m fine dear. No, my cough still happens to trouble me but it is of no matter. The sight of your face is a much effective medicine than those awful pills.

“Look what I brought for you, mother. Swiss chocolates! They taste lovely mother. They would just melt in your mouth”.

That sounds really wonderful dear. But I can’t eat them. I have diabetes you see. But of course you wouldn’t know that. I told the doctor not to trouble anyone with my ailments. Seems like she has kept her word.

 “You would eat them, wont you?”

… How can I say no to your beautiful eyes when they are pleading with me? Diabetes or not, I’m going to eat them Amber. Yes. I will eat them.

 “Mother I have to tell you something”

Speak it aloud then my child

“This is Caleb. I am… we are… getting married”

But that is wonderful!! Congratulations dears. Ah! Look at that lovely blush! You both look infinitely sweet together. Lucky you found your soul-mate so young dearest. I wish you all the happiness in your life.

 “Mother, I won’t be coming around so frequently now. Caleb and I are shifting to his place in Canada. I’m sorry mother. You have to look after yourself on your own now. I promise to look in whenever I can but I guess things would be little busier after… after marriage.”

You don’t have to be sorry for anything. You deserve your own life. Don’t you worry about me too much now. I will be just fine. I just pray for your happiness every day. It doesn’t really matter if I see you in person or not my child, your sweet face is forever etched in my heart.

“But I will send a postcard every month and maybe the inspector would allow you to spend the Christmas with us”

There’s no need for that sweetie. I don’t think the authorities will allow for a convict to be out on loose. And they also think of me as insane you see. A postcard would be just fine. Just a word of your well being would be enough… more than enough.

The guard had intervened then, but I shut my ears off from the conversation for I didn’t need anything else to distract me from the terrible role I was playing to perfection; the inner turmoil in me was more than enough.

“Goodbye mother. Take care of yourself and don’t worry about me too much.”

They both left, hand in hand and it felt as if with every step they took away from me, I was taking a step towards my ultimate doom- the enclosing darkness with the dementors of my past, abstaining any happy thought from flashing across my memory.

The soft sun rays faded completely, leaving me in the dark that I feared so much. My eyes fell on the last reminder that my daughter had left behind- the box of chocolates.

I unwrapped the packet slowly, savoring the texture of the thin packet- this was where my daughter had left the physical imprints of her touch; packing love for me- her mother.
A small card fell from it which said “to my lovely mother”. I wiped my tears off it impatiently; they would smudge my Amber’s note… the note which clearly spoke of her love for me.

The chocolates inside the box looked delicious. Better than the frugal meals that I had to eat every day. The medical examiner had strongly warned me against eating anything sweet because I had very high sugar levels but I had promised Amber… death would be more favorable to me than breaking her word.

I unwrapped the foil and kept one in my mouth. They really did melt effortlessly. How many I ate, I didn’t know. Accept that my daughters sweet, lovely face drifted in and out of my vision. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread in my chest and something warm came out when I coughed this time. Just before I felt myself drifting away, I saw a few drops of blood fall and scatter over the last verse I had written…
*      *     *

 (to be continued)...
to read the 2nd part click  HERE

Mostly about computer tuition...

OK so i am seriously pissed off.
One, i am SICK and TIRED of doing sums of infinite series which seem absolutely BORING and worthless to me. There is NO point in calculating the value of some never ending logarithmic series or exponential series with your hand when there is a thing called CALCULATOR for God's sake. What is the PRACTICAL aspect of it anyways?

Two( i think this is the REAL reason) i HATE being made fun of in the computer tuition! It's just so damn UNFAIR the way Sir always makes digs at me for talking when EVERYONE, including HIM were chattering non-stop at that time!! And i always seem to get into pointless arguments there. And i don't even say anything to our most RESPECTED sir. I talk with my only two friends there- Riti and Suranjana. But if he has the enormously IRRITATING habit of listening to everything i say its SO not MY problem.

As usual, i was talking to Riti saying that i again had a great idea for another story and she was all do-write-it and i-wanna-read-it and i was like i-cant-write-it-now-cuz-pre-boards-coming-up and its-such-a-distraction etc etc when she said "tujhe likhne me kitna time lagega". And in order to be completely truthful i replied "arre bohot time lagta hai, even when i am in a flow. Main to 1 hour me sirf 3-4 pages likh pati hun"

So you see it was a totally harmless and day-to-day conversation that ANY two people might be having given any day. And the conversation elmost ended there evn. ALMOST i emphasize because SIR butted in at that instant.
"Likhne ke beech me bak-bak karti hogi. 15 min likhna phir 15 min bak-bak. Varna koi 1hour me sirf 3-4 page likhta hai kya??" (Imagine Bibhas sir's mocking and insulting tone. God, i wish i had the audio or video of it. Or no, that would be insulting myself on my own)

And so naturally that pissed me off. Who WOULDN'T be offended by this? I claim to be a poet. And writer. God, that's the only thing that i can do except solving maths problem(something i am not able to do at this moment owning to the fact that i am pissed off)
And i honestly DON'T EVER TALK when i write. I am seriously irritated when someone disturbs me when i am writing. I agree that i am a chatter-box but who the hell DOESN'T talk in that freakin computer tuition?
But seems like i am on sir's hit-list so i am made the guinea-pig EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Hello, Mr I-am-the-best-PJ-cracker, cant you see there are other SEVEN students in front of you to make digs at? But seems like you have to single out a KV IIT student in light to your own BELOVED DAV students. But hello again, there is ANOTHER KV IIT student there too. Your favourite student and me best-friend-at-school Suranjana. But seems like there is no fun in taunting HER is it?????

And so, when he said, i defended myself by saying "Main kahin se dekh ke nahin likhti hun, KHUD se bana ke likhti hun to zyada tine lagta hai"

"Khud se likhne me to kam time lagna chahiye. Dekh ke ya yaad karke likhne se to zyada time lagta hai!!"

(sniggers all around me)

Holy crap!!! what do i say to THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And taking liberty from sir-making-digs-at-me, OTHER not-so-interesting-guys have started doing that too!!!
I was not the only one to get the Base address of one problem wrong. Suranjana made the same mistake as well too. But no, I have to made the guinea pig AS USUAL.
And Mr I-am-so-sure-of-myself Suraj, YOU did the same mistake yourself the first time too, so  there was absolutely NO POINT in making fun of me over that and saying "vo phir tumhari hi galti thi" and then sniggering along with Sir when i made a face.

OK i agree people get free laughs on account of some things i say and the supposedly hilarious faces i make, but POKING me do the same is simply NOT DONE.

So i hope that is clear Mr I-have-the-insane-habit-of-evaesdropping and Mr You-make-hilarious-faces and Mr Phir-vo-to-tumhari-hi-galti-thi, I CANNOT tolerate being made fun off and i simply cant get my stupid mouth shut from saying some stupid things but no one is asking YOU people to hear. I say funny things only for the benefit of MY FRIENDS. RITI AND SURANJANA.

Hope that is CLEAR. Also the fact that i was terribly HURT when things are said about my WRITING(ignoring the fact that i nearly laughed for 10 minutes with Riti after that happened. IGNORING THAT :P :P)

Got it? Thank You. (though i sincerely hope none of them reads THIS post cuz i am SO dead if that happens. ANTARA- SHUT your mouth about this. I would be thrown out of the computer classes i so badly need :P :P)

And it doenst HELP when my PARENTS roll with  laughter when i tell them this. huh. as if i care. i am now on strictly a no-speech policy from now on. grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

still fuming

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Merry Christmas and ummmm... Just Merry Christmas :P

Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas to all!!!!!!!!(though belated)
May Santa bring happiness and cheer in all our lives :)

So the point of making this post was to accept the "Versatile Blogger award" from Purvi and do the necessities.

A million thanks to you Purvi  for this awesome Christmas present :) Its really an honor and even i feel intensely attached to your posts and verses- they are so close to my own thoughts :) Thanks again.

So the seven random things about me are as follows:

1. I HATE eating papaya; it seems so gross to me and those stupid papaya trees in my garden just never seem to STOP producing that awful stuff that my mom force-feeds me. The most embarrassing thing is that once she fooled me into eating it saying that it was Lauki and the idiot i am, i devoured it unsuspecting :P

2. I am VERY shy with strangers- not the usual chatterbox most of the people associate me with.

3. I actually DO like Justin Bieber songs. I dunno why so many people hate him and say all that crap about him; i think his songs are well versed and quite melodious :)

4. I WORSHIP Linkin Park- come and say a word against them before me and you're DEAD :P

5. I hate it when people pinch my cheeks and call me cute. UGH!!!!

6. I love sneezing. yeah i know i am nuts :P :P

7. umm what else... I love calculus (ugh, cant believe i am talking about STUDIES right now!!)

Here are the rules for the Versatile Blogger Award:
  1. Nominate 10-15 fellow bloggers (you’ll find my list at the end)
  2. Inform the bloggers of their nomination
  3. Share 7 random things about yourself
  4. Thank the blogger who nominated you
  5. Add the Versatile Blogger Award Pic on your blog post.

The Fellow bloggers i nominate are:

1.Antara- A very close friend of mine, a wonderful person and an immensely talented writer; a girl with whom you can share everything because she MEANS whatever she say, she isnt diplomatic. she is for REAL :)

2. Purvi herself- a blogger whose every post is close and related to me :)

3.Saru Ji- a WONDERFUL writer, and AMAZING poet- her poems fill me with awe and admiration. Also, an immensely encouraging person; my every post is incomplete without her comments :)

4.Aakriti- I started reading her blog just recently, but i love whatever she writes- she has a unique style of her own :)

5.D2- Oh i just love the way he writes. There is so much gravity in his words, its mesmerising :)

6. DS- Again another fellow blogger i met through Indiblogger. He makes cricket much more interesting for me!!

7.Gaurav- (I am tired of saying it again and again that i came across most of these wonderful blogs via Indiblogger!!) A very versatile writer- touching and thoughtful words is how I identify his style :)

8. Pooja Pradeep- A very genuine blogger- someone who puts the way it really is :)

9. Leo- I have been a fan of his poems ever since i read them for the first time. errr if you want to know how INCREDIBLY well he writes, just go see his blog or just ask me!!

10. Anil- My dearest, most awesomest cousin :) i missed his marriage, no one but me knows how hissy a fit I threw upon it. He is the person who inspired me to open a blog and i can NEVER thank him enough for that.
And btw Anil Bava, do you even have ANY idea of how UPSET i was when you didnt come and meet me like you said when i was in Hyderabad?? i nearly ended up in tears( ok i know this is embarrassing). If it hadn't been for Kalpana mam or Srinivas's Bhaiya's MOST COOL sister or Imran Khan whose movie was THANKFULLY coming on Colors  i would have spent my entire trip moping over that. But its okay, you are forgiven :P :P
(back to normal)
And it doesn't HELP that he is a pass out from ISI BAngalore(imagine- ISI BANGALORE!!!!!!) and a MATHEMATICIAN(something i would KILL to become but going along the lines of my preparation, i wont :P) or the fact that he is an amazing writer himself or the fact that i havent seen him in 10 yers? 12 years? whatever.
I should stop here. i mean seriously. like SERIOUSLY.

Ok then, a very advanced New year to all and............................................
i should be going now to solve a VERY irritating, VERY interesting, VERY frustrating circuit problem. D.C.Pandey, i love you and hate you at the same time for making me battle with my wits on a physics problem :P I think i should better apply the Kirchhoff's law though, the symmetry thing got mesed up anyways.

Phew. will anyone believe me if i tell them that i have been making this post since THREE days??? ugh!!!

SERIOUSLY going now!!!
have fun all :)

PS: Btw Antara. thanks a MILLION for making my 2011 Christmas memorable for me. Such a heart-to-heart talk i had after a long time!!!!

yeah i know i know, i m going. im GOING :P :P