Monday, December 27, 2004

The MMS episode: Done to death !

Adding my $ 0.02 to THE DEBATE...

Frankly, there was nothing incriminating about 17 year olds having a fling. What's new to it? What made me sick was the mileage that media houses were deriving out of the incident.

The TOIlet paper lived up to its reputation, ensuring the story was covered. Daily on the front page. Sticky eyeballs, it generated for sure. What was even more sickening was the the fact that media houses, especially in Delhi, were adding flavours to the story.

When we notice the amount of freedom of expression that the internet provides us, and the fact that we have been privy to all kinds of content on the net, we will realise that the entire episode was a non-issue. It need not snowball into a national debate when we have farmer suicides and conflicts in the North Eastern states begging for more attention.

News channels had already done reporting the incident before the newspapers started. Every time I read the story, I thought of only one thing: What would be devastating impact of this on the boy and girl who have done this?

How would you feel if you were 17 and a stupid act - a mistake people that age commit out of immaturity - has suddenly become a national issue? It's not a pleasant feeling. You have an entire life ahead of you to construct. How do recover from the mental disintegration? The glaring eyes? The stifled laughter behind your back? In a country where sex is still taboo, how do you deal with the ignominy? It's worse than being hanged for stealing candy. At least you don?t live to describe the pain.

The insensitivity of the media needs to be severely criticized. It was a non-issue, I can go on record saying that. How would you like reading about your sexual escapades everyday in the papers? How would you like hanging your head in shame, thinking how you could ever reconstruct your life again? How could you read all that everyday and not feel the shame that your family feel? How could they blow it out of proportions like that?

When you understand our conservative cultural mindsets, you would realise the ignominy the young couple has faced. Hell, Clinton was the most powerful man on earth. And had a hard time cleaning off the stains. Try dealing with a problem like that when you're just seventeen.

The entire system - the judiciary included - has made the victims, the unfortunate scapegoats. The couple, Ravi Raj, the Bazee CEO... all scapegoats. Nothing but scapegoats. You punish one... and hope that the others fall in line.

When you're done with the story... just imagine: After being made the unnecessary scapegoats, how do you expect these kids to restart living a normal, respectable life again?

Saturday, December 25, 2004

Merry Xmas


Santa was kind. On Christmas morning, I found my first story at my doorstep.

Here's (MWAH! MWAH! MWAH! MWAH!) the link to my first ever news report (MWAH! MWAH! MWAH! MWAH!)

Pliss be kind to leave comments on the Indian Express page.

And here's wishing you a Merry Xmas...

... and a happy nude rear.

Friday, December 24, 2004

The Week That Was

The last one week had been pleasantly hectic. I spent it

1) Bidding goodbyes to various classmates who were heading off to hometowns

2) Publicly rubbishing the jackass that is my HOD

3) Pondering over the meaning of life

4) Trying to land myself an internship

5) Wondering why I needed to do # 4 when I can chill out at home for the winter break.

Which, BTW, brought me back to # 3. (Smirk!)

A bit of running around took to me to the ITO area near Cannuaght Place.

Three meetings later, I had a 2-week internship. No, it won't pay me even my conveyance bills. The work would be thankless.

But hell, it's so good to be a part of the newspaper I have loved more and more over the years...

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Damn this cold!




Ultra-precision instrument to locate cold, hard furniture on a dark winter morning.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

The song that didn't let me be...

As you look around this room tonight

Settle in your seat and dim the lights

Do you want my blood

Do you want my tears

What do you want?

What do you want from me?

Should I sing until I can't sing any more

Play these strings until my fingers are raw

You're so hard to please

What do you want from me?

Do you think I know something you don't know?

If I don't promise you the answers would you go?

Should I stand out in the rain?

Do you want me to make a daisy chain for you?

I'm not the one you need

What do you want from me?

To quote Nemesis... growing up sucks!

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Run of the mill, "what's up" post

I have moved out of home. It took a while. Now I am free. Well? almost.

The weekend was spent poring over cardboard boxes, trying to figure out what to take with me and what to leave back at home. It?s all been done.

It should be an interesting period of four-odd months with my two new roomies. It should also buy me more time and space for myself. And also give me more time think about life in general. To try and find answers to questions, which have intrigued me for some time.

Among the questions that have been eating me, this one tops the list: What did those two flaming homosexuals namely Elton John and George Michael mean, when the sang ?Don?t let the sun go down on me?? Opinions invited.

Blogging would not be high on the priority list for the moment. It would be hard for me to reply to all those lovely comments that you people have been leaving. The exams are around the corner. There?s a lot of theory to be crammed. There are internships to be taken care of. There?s a media research report, which has on my mind like a chunk of chicken stuck between my teeth.

Is this the end of Neurotica as we know it? We will know in a few days.

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

This & That

Cofusion still looms large.

Exams are around the corner.

Need to intern somewhere in the break that follows the exams.

Wondering where to go to.

Wondering whom to contact.

Bumped into PV, a senior at school.

She's into Media Studies as well.

And is interning at The Times of India.

An excerpt:

PV: Love the job at Times

PV: Reporting is cool

PV: You are treated like a queen when you say "Times"

Me: oh... ok

Me: another good reason to stay away from Times

PV: ??

Me: Err... ok... never mind!

Sunday, November 28, 2004

My Yahoo Avtaar

Reality shall impose no constraints on his being. He is blissfully unaware of his standing. He continues to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Doing the wrong thing, of course.

His sense of reality is badly distorted. The look on the face smacks of absolute insincerity and complacency.

But the truth shall dawn on him. And he will be left cold from the inside. And he will wonder why.

I give to you...


My Yahoo Avtaar!

A piece of art, innit? ;-)

*ducks the rotten tomatoes and eggs*

November 16 marked the birth of this blog. Heypee Budday, dear Neurotica. It's been one interesting journey. Here's to several more years of togetherness in the Blogosphere. And here's to all the people I met on this trip!

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Aren't You An Artist?

This poem was written by a classmate who likes to call himself, 'The Subverter'. It kinda grew on me. I decided to share it with you. I am still in awe of it. I think it is a beautiful poem.

Aren't You An Artist?

'You are an artist', they declare.

And you are offended at once,

And also amused,

And the thin line between them remains fractured.

You are an artist because your body

Is not worth making love to,

Your soul is, absurdly.

Because what you call profundity

Is absurdity for others.

Because your ideas are inverted,

Not likely to be taken seriously.

You are an artist because you stink heavy

Of intimidating ideas.

Because the contours of your art

Is the outskirt of rotten radicalism.

You are an artist because you have learned

To wallow in the luxury of your failure.

Because you leap out of the common norms

And create your own confusion

And reside proudly in that.

You qualify as an artist when your beloved,

Your ideas, everything you loved and held,

Betray at the critical point of your life,

Leaving you laughing at your own fate.

So is being an artist an achievement,

Or an entrapment?

Monday, November 15, 2004

Sunday, November 07, 2004

Coz I'm leaving on a slow train... and other such thoughts! :D


I'm coming home now

It's been so long now

Gonna get there somehow

Praying you'll be there!

Eewww! Boyzone! Eeeww!

It's been a while. And I am going home now.

It's time to meet with long lost friends. It's time to not worry about schedules and deadlines for a change.

It's time to throw some caution to the wind.

It's time to celebrate.
I'm going home!


Home Sweet Home

To All Those Who Dropped By At Neurotica...

Dark Realms of The Blogosphere

To those lovely people who have stumbled on to this blog while searching through the dark realms of blogsphere... thanks for leaving behind all the lovely messages.

I am gonna try and reply to all of those. Of late, I had been hard pressed for time and been devoid of blogging inspiration.

But thanks a heap for coming. It's nice to hear from you.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Look Ma! I'm in the papers!

It was just one of those days when you could swear you can choke someone to death and claim to have enjoyed doing that. For us folks from the Department of English Journalism, it was a day we had awaited with extreme interest. A journo is no good if he doesn't write for a paper. Which is why we have our lab journals as a part of our course.

My group of ten, named 'The IIMC Times', rather unimaginatively, I must add, were all pumped up for the day. There were deadlines to be respected, reports to be edited, and newsprints to be taken out.

Thus started our stressful day over endless cups of coffee and cigarettes. (I must add that I settled for Coffee). I was the only one on my team who could design. "Technosexual", like someone put it. And it ain't easy working when an angry mob of 9 breathes down your neck, making suggestions and critically analysing every aspect of journal. The journal, that is a key to getting good placements in the months to come.

Every point met with a counterpoint. It wasn't exactly bliss. Layout design is thankless labour, any designer would agree. As the deadline drew closer, tempers rose and fists clenched. I wanted to rip the remaining hair of someone's bald head off. I do believe that the feeling was mutual. This is when a non-smoker really feels the need to fag. Coffee is so 9th grade.

Meanwhile, The Herald, The Exress and The Mail, all beat the deadlines and were out with their copies. We were the last to submit. But one look at all those journals made me believe that haste had made waste. The Times was late. But damn... it looked so much better!

This is what it looks like. I was suitably impressed. And nobody in the team had any problems with it. However, the prints were delayed. Which was kinda heartbreaking, considering we all wanted to get the feel of our journals in our hands, before we left for our respective hometowns. It wasn't to be. Our college, at the end of the day, is a sarkari office run by the Ministry of I&B.

And then rang those words of a senior, whom I met in July: "The Director here is an SOB!!!"

Now I see why.

Monday, October 25, 2004


I want to believe that the last 3 months have been the best ones of my life. That is quite, quite heartening when I look back at the damage done between March and July. Easily, the worst period of my life.

It had me rebuilding my life from scratch again. It made me observe my own life with great curiosity. It made me concious of every tiny little thing I did, making me wonder why I got even the basic and simplest of tasks, all messed up. It was terrible. Watching yourself stumble so frequently isn't pleasant, especially when good times seem not too distant. Then, every inch seems like a mile.

Life has moved along in its own funny ways, reminding me ever so often that nothing lasts forever. Now, a 9-to9 life doesn't give me too much to think about. Work is a major preoccupation. Work is good. Work is fun. Home is strictly a place where I have dinner, go to sleep and get ready for college.

An year ago, I would have given an eye and a tooth for a life like this. Now that it is finally happening, I experience a sense of satisfaction that I have never experienced in many years. It's almost too pleasant to be true.

The people I am surrounded with are quite, quite awesome. It is not to compare them with my old friends. But never have I being a part of a class which had so many bad dressers, BALD MEN, Mad Magazine lovers, romantics and flirts, poets and dramatists, singers and headbangers, all at the same time. Even Sundays don't keep me away from the college now. And it saddens me that I will be seeing these people for only 5 more months now.

And life reminds me again: nothing lasts forever.

Saturday, October 23, 2004

Big City Rants

In a big city, sanity is the domain of a privileged few. A few, who have learnt how to escape it all. The rest of us can resort back to the much worn out "life is a bitch" rhetoric.

One of the things that the small-towner will learn in the scary, big city is that the thing you lose the quickest is your temper. He will realise, anger is an acutely contagious disease out on the streets. Those big city streets where men walk, fists clenched tightly, to find small targets on which they can vent out their professional and domestic angst. The angst that comes from trying to survive the big city. The angst that is so familiar.

Somedays... it's the work that gets to him. On other days... it's the lack of it. Sometimes, it's the rush hour that creates the need to let out a good scream . The air around him is low on oxygen. The water is high on sulphides. The bus ticket costs 15. He has only 10. The people are interesting. The people will take him for a ride.

The small-towner does not relate to these roads. They do not have stories to remind him of. He's been away from home for too long.

Then the small-towner will realise. The big city has finally gotten on his nerves.

Wednesday, October 20, 2004


I feel like Vishwamitra.

And my steadfast tapasya is about to be bhango-fied by an entire brigade of frivolous and pretty Apsaras.

Where are my ugly Rakshasa friends when I need them the most?

Monday, October 11, 2004

You Were Remembered


Jaya Prakash Narayan

Oct. 11, 1902 - Oct. 8, 1979

Spare a moment and sign this petition.

Sunday, October 10, 2004


A group of kids in my neighbourhood, when the power supply went out on a Sunday evening:

Papa kehte hai bada naam karega

Bijli ka bill tera baap bharega...

It'd been a lot funnier had you seen it in person.

Saturday, October 09, 2004

Jobless as ever

To Rhea:

Girls, I no longer find scary.

For, once I get Vitamin A, I am no longer wary!

First my milkman used to bring Amul,

But that didn't help me keep my cool.

Now I prefer the local dairy.

To Iyer:

You dont flirt with a fat guy's flame,

Take it from me; experience is thy name!

A jealous fat guy sat on my oblongata medula,

So bad, they scraped me off the floor with a spatula!

So before they put garlands on your photo frame,

Remember son... love is a dangerous game!

Edit, 12 hours later: Look at what this got the The Xcentric into doing! ROTFLMBO!

Saturday, October 02, 2004

Cryptic Moms

Mom: Beta, how many of you are going to Dehradoon?

Me: 10

Mom: And how many of them are girls?

Me: 6

Mom: Beta... sambhal ke jaana...


Friday, October 01, 2004

And life seemed a lot less complicated when someone cute fell asleep on my shoulder.

Friday, September 24, 2004

The day that was...

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

Ladies and Gents!

Step right up! And see for yourself!

The paradigm for journalistic nincompoopery!

The result of killer boredom!

The pioneer in news trivialisation and sensationalisation!

The breeding grounds of Yellow!

A product of empty minds!

(In short... a lab-generated Times of India!)

Brought to you by those who wish to be called The Jobless Writers...



On a more serious note, the first volume was a huge hit, with people falling over each other to get their own copy of Dontlook. We wanted to keep our identities a secret. But damn! Everyone in the department knew only I could come up with such crap!

'M' and I are having a hard time convincing people that we didn't do it. Luckily, some of them brought it too! Muhahahaha!

Let's see what the faculties say about our insanity!

Edit, 1 day later: It has been brought to the attention of The Jobless Writers, that there's a certain Indian weekly magazine that looks and sounds a lot like Dontlook! Damn!

Arrgh! Time to call the lawyers and sue those mofos!

Wednesday, September 22, 2004


I realised. The hard way.

Do not... and I repeat DO NOT underestimate the power of stupid people inmates of girls hostel at IIMC in large numbers.

Especially if you had been making wisecracks about all of them.

Especially if one day, they ALL gang up agaisnt you, sick and tired of those wisecracks.

Edit at 11.30 PM: Have a good laugh here. No, it's not porn.

Monday, September 20, 2004

5000 and counting...


5000 hits! Another excuse to blog a lousy, meaningless, gap-filler post!

I'd like to thank all the jobless and bored people of the world who had nothing better to do than to surf through the dark realms of the internet in search of God only knows what. For unnecessarily reading the crap that I put up on this page, even when I hardly ever asked them to. And for making me happy by keeping my counter ticking over.

To show my gratitute, I will pray to god that you do not die wondering what hit you and that your children also receive college education. And that you may have something useful to do with your lives so that you don't waste time reading this blog! Hihihi! Generous, aren't I?

That... when I have strong reasons to suspect that 4500 hits were my own. Hihihi!

Anyway... what do I care? Hey Gurdeep! Here's 5000 roubles for ya, son! Now run along and buy yourself some candy! Then log on to Ebay and use the rest of the money to buy yourself a clue.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Business, as usual

So what have I been upto?

1) Lost my precious notebook in which I drew nasty caricatures of my professors.

2) Was a part of a contingent that successfully pissed off my Media Research faculty.

3) Drove college PYTs around on my new bike. Promised some more, for future rides.

4) Made myself unpopular among the guys for act # 3.

5) Told the guys.... 'Love me, hate me, but kindly spare me your indifference'.

6) Earned rep for being the 'computer expert' in my computer illeterate department.

7) Postponed 3 really dull assignments and now am running a week late.

8) Made a huge name for myself for my artworks.

9) Got elected Convenor for class maintenence. Also because nobody else stood for the post!

10) Cracked one short people joke too many on 'P'. Result: she intends to kill me sometime soon.

11) Cracked one body-odor joke too many on 'V'. Result: Ditto.

12) Cracked one tasteless wisecrack too many on the inmates of the girls hostel. Result: Ditto.

13) Cracked one thin people joke too many on 'J'. He looks depressed now.

13) Lived up to jouranlistic social responsibilities and made the world a better place to live in

14) Broke my glasses. Time to shift to contacts

15) Started entertaining insane, hyper-creative ideas again after a long, long lay off.

16) Confused more people with my surname and ethnicity.

17) Wallowed in memories of painful past.

18) Continued to not give a shit, better than ever!

Monday, September 13, 2004

Mera No. 1?


The ad goes... "Number one... mera number one".

And people still drink it.

Sunday, September 12, 2004

Apni Dholki Baja Rela Hu!

Alright... my blog... my rules. I can post what I want to, right?

Anyway, so I got this mail from Apexa, a junior at my grad college. Still reading it and laughing. It's one of those things that amuse you no end, and make your day.

So I will end up blowing my own trumpet... but what the hell! :P

Read on ...


The founder of Prism,

Dear sir,

Hoping u r fit n healthy inspite of the JNU canteen food.

Its so good to hear from the person whos brainchild is PRISM.

The new copy is finally in our hands.n the designing guys have done a fab. job . aaaah how nice it feels to c ones name in the magazine. along with the pic..

J The only disappointing thing is that I haven't contributed ne article for this issue. (tho my name is allotted to 2 articles)

Welll, I have no idea whether sumbody told u this or not. but I thot u ought to know it . n hence this mail..

Hmmmm Saturday, the 11th, mala ma'ams lecture n we had prepared ourselves to bear the pains of all sorts of cost curves. but b4 the usual lash out. she wanted to tell us about this ex-student of SMPIC.(nething except economics was welcome so everybody paid attention to every word she said..) yea. n she told us bout a guy called HEMANT.

His dedication, the no. of hrs he spent for prism.n stuff like that. and may I add sir, that she read out the prism mail that u sent us..n she was all praises for u.. Forgive me for I shall not b able to quote the exact words she said as my memory is diminishing day by day.

for your info, our class is the most notorious one n already in her bad books. by giving ur example. she compared the type of students that we r (such an awful lot) n how we ought to be (just like you). HEMANT , who respected the institute n his professors; HEMANT, who worked for prism without ne expectation of reward; HEMANT, who was always down to earth;HEMANT, who was so courteous while giving suggestions; HEMANT, a student from whom the professors learnt a lot; HEMANT, who still hasn't

forgotten SMPIC; HEMANT, A STUDENT THEY ARE PROUD OF!!! Hats off to u!!! by the way, a Xerox copy of ur mail has been given to all the professors. so that they know that Hemant is still in touch, still remembers them, n still concerned for prism.

I wud like to thank you as well as those responsible for planting such a beautiful sapling.PRISM n man, am I glad that ive been given the responsibility to nourish it n take it to gr8 heights in spite of storms? u bet I am!!

Bless you,



Prism was the college magazine, which was started by a group of people from my batch. I edited it. It recently came out with its 4th issue recently. Earlier, some were of the opinion that it would sink once my batch passes out. That hasn't happened. Thankfully, it lives on.

Friday, September 10, 2004

Snap out of it! *slaps himself on left cheek*

Snap out of it! *slaps himself on right cheek*

Snap out of it! *slaps himself on left cheek*

Snap out of it! *slaps himself on right cheek*

Snap out of it! *slaps himself on left cheek*

Snap out of it! *slaps himself on right cheek*

Thursday, August 26, 2004



All you tiny 100 CC drivers... make way for my 125 CC, 10-horse juggernaut!

Ab kaun rokega meri muskaan? Muhahaha!

5 females asking for lift on the first 2 days itself doesn't hurt my ego either! Muhahaha!

Most men would talk of bikes in the same breath as they would, of women. Then there are men who'd rather worship their Harleys, Triumphs and Yamahas than attend to their women. For some, their bikes are an extension of their entities. The man and the machine are one. In soul and in physicality.

Therefore, for man to value his machine so much, the machine must surely be referred to as 'she'. Pulsar's a great bike, no doubt. But "Definitely Male" ? Pah! How gay!!!

I tell you people... my bike's a 'she'. And it stays that way!

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Memories of the Khaandaani Khataaraa


It was in December 2001, that Dad finally decided to bring home our first car. And it was a moment of great rejoice, especially for me. For a change, I could leave risqu� one-liners and vulgar cartoons on the grime on my own Maruti. Secondly, shuttling between college, computer classes and home would be so much easier. Not because I could be driven around in an air-conditioned car, but coz Dad would finally leave that old scooter of his alone. No more buses for me!

So I took the scooter away. And it?s a mixed feeling to inherit something that most museums would love to take away from you. On one hand, you no longer have to travel on those Godforsaken AMTS buses. You don?t have to frantically search for 2-rupee coins for bus fare early in the morning. You don?t have to wait 30 minutes at the bus stop for 5-minute journeys. You don?t have to curse your luck while your classmates zoom by on their bikes, as you stand at the bus stop in the scorching Ahmedabad sun. On the other hand, you?re still driving an authentic piece of automobile memorabilia that might give up on you anytime, any day.

I took what was mine. And I love saying this: I was offered a bike by Dad 2 years back. I turned him down. I chose to drive around the family heirloom instead. I?m glad I did. Why should something as expensive as your first vehicle come so easily to you? Dad himself worked his rear end off before he could graduate from a cycle to a Moped in the 70s. Better things followed for him. I wanted to follow that example. Even it?s impractical to the point of being stupid. Principles, yunnoh. Some people just do not get it. Bah! Go ask your rich dads to buy everything for you. And then wonder why the rest of them have to wear Nyki and Reabook.

So I stuck to Chetak for over 2 years. It wouldn?t go over 50 for the life of me. Would give a mileage of 45 once in a blue moon. Would give up on me on rainy mornings. The faulty shock absorbers got my arm in a sling once. The dysfunctional brakes almost got me killed in another case.

Jokes were cracked about the scooter?s size, considering my 6?2 frame. Jokes were cracked about its age, looks and speed, among others. Jokes upon jokes followed. I forgive those humans. Had there been any conviction in what they said, I might have taken them seriously too. They tried their hardest to get me into buying a bike. Some morons also tried telling me how their Scooties and Kinetics were better. Pah! I wouldn?t even spit on your tiny little Leo Mattel scooterettes, you uninformed, ignorant fools!!! If I gave a duck about what you said, then it just wouldn?t be me! Go back and live your comfortable little self-centred, petty lives!!! Like a Bajaj ad once said? ?You will get there faster. But I will get there stronger?.

Six years on AMTS buses. Two years on Chetak. Commuting therefore has never been fun. But, for the moment it will be easier. Better things have followed. It?s time to say goodbye to trustee assistant Chetak after exactly a decade.

Rust in peace, my dear friend.

Gimme that strange relationship

Never felt pleasure and pain like this

Something so right but it feels so terribly wrong

I keep holding on

Gimme that strange relationship

One of us gotta let go of this

I keep pushing and you keep holding on

I'm already gone

Edit at 4: And here?s a pic you?d probably never get to see again, for as long as you live. Have a good laugh! ;-)

Monday, August 23, 2004

Survival for the fittest

On the bustling roads of Delhi, I come alive like an insecure zebra that trespassed into the lion country. The rule of the jungle applies on the roads. Survival is the privilege of the fittest. The meek shall always struggle to see what tomorrow brings.

And I, a meek scooterist, have to co-exist (with just a helmet as my line of defence) with those merciless, gigantic monsters that are the DTC buses.

The jungle puts your skills to the toughest test. It's been a month of driving in and out of Delhi. And I took some time out to thank my Gods and Goddesses (Ms. P. Chopra included) and appreciate the fact that the zebra has survived in the lion country. It is heartening indeed to note that some angry, semi-drunk Haryanvi driving those buses has not run me over already.

I pat myself on the back too. I must be exceptionally good a driver to survive those DTC buses! ;-) We shall live to see another day!

Friday, August 20, 2004

Looking back it some things, I see that it was better to have rocked the boat and feel awkward about it later than to not have rocked the boat at all.

"Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious"

- George Orwell, "1984"

Thursday, August 19, 2004

This and That

Kobain Cobain was right. It's better to burn out than to fade away.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Arvind approves of this post. Kill him too! :))

Arvind: ok cool

Arvind: wat u upto/

Me: hey man

Me: the funniest thing happened

Arvind: wat wat wat?

Me: i went into the loo to take a crap

Me: and when i sat on the commode

Me: it broke down and fell sideways



Arvind: damn...boy..wat have u been eatin?

Me: but i hadnt even started


Arvind: damn

Me: its like... i sat... and it got thrown of its fittings

Me: with broken pipelines and everything

Arvind: ok did u like crap on ur pants out of fear or sumthin?

Me: i almost did


Arvind: cheee cheee cheeee


Me: alright... i just went to fix it

Me: and it turns out that...

Me: the flush is broken too

Me: which means... if i press flush... the water falls down on the floor




Monday, August 16, 2004

This and That

There's something absolutely hilarious. About 3 guys, all of them extremely hungry, riding on a khatara scooter through the endless, uninhabited jungles of JNU, desperately trying to find their way to the nearest canteen.

Add to that, a lovely windy and overcast afternoon, the fact that you have completely lost your way in those jungles and are begining to enjoy the greenery, and that one of the guys is carrying a radio in hand, playing some of Rafi's best.

Aaah! That would be one nice way of remembering this new found life.

Acting's overrated! I have officially debuted as an actor (a lousy one at that). I played a reporter who got whooped by a corrupt hawaldar. The experience was fun and I received some very positive feedback. And it was quite, quite liberating because of all the screaming and shouting I got to do. I suspect it was more fun for 'A' coz he got to throw me off the stage for everytime we rehearsed.

Theatre was one thing I wanted to dabble around with. The opportunities were not there in college. It's great to make a start. Let's see where this goes to.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

Friday, August 13, 2004

The day that was...


'D' is a rather quite chap from Mizoram, with spikey hair, a goatie and thick black glasses. He finds his corner in the class everyday. Doesn't talk all that much. Doodles a lot on the margins of his notebook. Never raised his hand to ask questions during class nor did he ever have any doubts clarified during the lectures. That was 'D' for the first two weeks at IIMC.

One fine morning, 'S' decides to bring his Givson to college to practise for the upcoming college culturals. And 'D' decides to safekeep the instrument with him for the recess. And by the time, the recess ended, hell had already broken loose on our class.

'D' was playing his way to glory. Def Lepard's 'Two Steps Behind'. Followed by 'Papa kehte hai'. Followed by some Bryan Adams tunes. Then some Lucky Ali chords. He was strumming like a God.

Auditions for the cultural events followed. And when he went on the stage to do his version of 'Better Man', the crowd had gone insane! Here's a guy who looked like he wouldn't open his mouth even his life depended on it. And now he has women standing up and appluading him. And sticking to him like white on rice!!!

IIMC has a new hero. And Hil's words from a couple of years back rang in my head. "To drive women insane, just hold a guitar outside your college and pretend you know how to play!!"

Damn! I *so* should have learnt to play a guitar too.

Anyway... 'D' taught me the D, G and A chords. He promises to teach me more. Time to get my hands on a guitar. Some investment advices, anyone?

Edit: 14.8.2004: 12.22 PM:. I suspect this is The Lean Dude's other blog. Hyuk hyuk!

Thursday, August 12, 2004

Monday, August 09, 2004

This and That

Sometimes, I dearly wish life had an 'Undo' button.

Now this foot is stuck too far up my mouth.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Peaceful, easy feeling


Standing outside the college stores, hungrily chomping away on a pack of Kurkure after an orientation lecture, I scanned the scenery around me. My eyes went upto the main entrance of the college. The sign said, 'Indian Institute of Mass Communication'. And a strange sense of calmness and satisfaction came over me. The kind that I had never, ever experienced before. The wait had been long and painful. But it's awesome to be here. Beyond awesome. Pardon me if I'm overdoing it. But my euphoria is hard to contain at the moment.

The first week at IIMC saw orientation lectures to give students a little background on what we are up against for the next one year. We've had several sessions over socio-economic issues, our polity, media in general, reservations etc. My favourite ones were taken by GVG Krishnamoorthy (former EC), Saikat Dutta (sub-editor, IE, now moving to Outlook) and Col. Dhavan (who had some awesome stories about the war in 71).

And there were some sessions during which I fell asleep too. There have been instances in school and college when I felt REALLY tired and sleepy in class. But never have I actually fallen asleep in class before. Oh well... there's always a first. All you need is a lecure on history and forms of Drama.

Or, for that matter, our HOD's talks, where every second sentence ends with "...and all that...".

Sample this:

We have a great infrastructure... and all that.

Col. Dhavan will talk about Media and Defence... and all that.

We also have some cultural activities... and all that.

Now please go and have your lunch... and all that.

We intend to keep an "and all that" count, one of these days.

I made half a dozen friends. Half a dozen enemies. Already earned a nickname! Have already taken a panga with the cyber media faculty. He's prolly gonna hate me for the rest of the year. Maybe I oughtta buy him a Krishi Vikaas Patra or something. That should get him on my side.

I'd met a girl from Orissa at the Symbiosis interview. She was the only one in my group of 5 who got admitted to Symbi. She, after having paid her fees of 80,000 for the year at Symbi, quit the place. She's my classmate now. Not bad, huh?

My batch is quite a mix. We've got Oriyas, Mallus, Tams, plenty of Northies. And a truckload lots of Biharis. The Hindi Journo department has 25 Biharis out of a class of 40. There's a huge contingent from UP/Bihar.

Overall, an AWESOME week. This is gonna be one heckuvva year. Don't wanna miss a thing.


Saturday, July 31, 2004

Lunatics and Warewolves Congregate! It's a Blue Moon Tonight!!! :-D


A blue moon is the second full moon in a month. Since full moons occur once in 29 days, having 2 in the same month is a rare occurance. A July blue moon is even rarer, considering these only occur in Jan, Feb or March.

Me being a Cancerian, I wonder wonder if it has any implication in my life! Wonder if this would be the moment I finally become a warewolf! Muhahahaha!

Damn! This blog is so mundane!

Thursday, July 29, 2004

So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from Hell,

Blue skys from pain.

Can you tell a green field

From a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade

Your heros for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

And did you exchange

A walk on part in the war

For a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We're just two lost souls

Swimming in a fish bowl,

Year after year,

Running over the same old ground.

What have we found?

The same old fears.

Wish you were here.

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Remembering 1997


Thought I'd turned on the TV found a portal in time to a painful past. The past, in which existed, a heartless, cold, bloodthirsty murderer. A murderer, at whose sight, bowlers requested to change into dark-brown coloured pants. Bowlers, some of whom never could set foot in cricket again after meeting this bloodthirsty murderer.

Memories of yesteryears came flooding by when the same murderer smelt blood all over again. It took me back to a time when the murderer had me pulling my hair out in frustration. And had the Indian bowlers praying for their mommies and made them carry a set of Pampers for every Indo-Lanka game. God! We hated the sight of him as kids!

Somehow, this time, it was much easier to appreciate the skill of the man. And to see the beauty with which he weilded his weapon around and mechanically butchered his enemy. Sanath Jayasuriya... take a bow. That was awesome! You rode on your luck, alright. But you made plenty of it on your own too.

Unfortunately for you, it's not the same set of Indian bowlers anymore whom you whooped left, right and center in the late 90s.

You could have saved this best for the finals though. Now Asia is ours for the taking!

What an un-****ing-believable win!

Monday, July 26, 2004

So what?

So what if they only quoted a piddly little line from a 1000 word letter! SO WHAT? :-D

I am on Cricinfo!! Woohoo!

Click Here and do a Ctrl+F for 'Hemant'.

Sunday, July 25, 2004


(Got this from Aishwarya)


In case your frustration level rises today, this is for everyone who occasionally has a really bad day when you just need to take it out on someone: I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a telephone call that I had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?"

I politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin and may I please speak to Robin Carter?" Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still

laying on my desk. I decided to call it again. When the same person once more answered, I yelled, "You're a jackass!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word "jackass" and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up. He would answer and I'd yell, "You're a jackass!" It always cheered me up.

Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me. I would have to stop calling the jackass. Then one day I had an idea. I dialed his number and heard his voice. "Hello?" I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone ompany and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our new caller ID program." He answered, "No!" and slammed down the receiver. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because

you're a jackass!"

The reason I'm taking the time to tell you this story is to show you how if there's ever anything bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 555-1212.

(Keep reading, it gets better.)

One day an old lady at the mall was really taking her time pulling out of her parking space. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally, her car began to move ever so slowly and she began backing out. I backed up a little more to give her

plenty of room. Great, I thought, she's finally leaving. All of a sudden this black Camero came flying up the parking aisle in the wrong direction and pulled into her space. I started honking my horn and yelling, "You can't do that, buddy! I was here


The guy got out of his Camero completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, this guy is a jackass. There sure are a lot of jackasses in this world. I noticed he had a "For Sale" sign in the back

window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.

The next day I was at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 555-1212 and yelling, "You're a jackass!" (It's really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.) Then I noticed the phone number of the

guy with the black Camaro and decided to call him too. After a couple of rings someone answered the phone. I asked, "Are you the man with the black Camaro for sale?"


"Can you tell me where I can see it?"

"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and the car is parked right out front."

I asked, "What's your name?"

"My name is Don Hansen."

"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"

"I'm home in the evenings."

"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"


"Don, you're a jackass!" And I slammed the phone down.

After I hung up I added Don's number to my speed dialer. Now I had two jackasses to call whenever I had a bad day. However this wasn't as much fun as it used to be. So I thought about it and came up with a solution. First, I had my phone dial jackass #1. The man answered nicely and I yelled, "You're a jackass!" But I didn't hang up.

The jackass said, "Are you still there?"

I said, "Yeah."

He said, "Stop calling me."

I said, "No!"

He said, "What's your name, pal?"

I said, "Don Hansen."

He said, "Where do you live?"

"1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and my black Camaro is parked out front."

"I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your prayers."

"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Jackass!" And I hung up.

Then I called Jackass #2. He answered, "Hello."

I said, "Hello, jackass!"

He said, "If I ever find out who you are..."

"You'll what?"

"I'll kick your butt."

"Well, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now, jackass!"

And I hung up. Then I picked up the phone and called the police.

I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as he got home. Another quick call to Channel 13 news about the gang war going down on West 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing. Glorious! I watched two jackasses kicking the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars and a police helicopter I also taped it off the evening news!

Saturday, July 24, 2004

Please, Please, Please, Please Be Mine!


As I stand here today with the world as my witness,

I pledge to you my undying and everlasting love.

I will stand beside you as your partner,

I will stand before you as your protector,

And I will stand behind you as your solace.

Please spend and end your life with me.

- Earl -

Through all eternity to thee

A joyful song I'll raise,

For oh! Eternity is too short

To utter all thy praise.

- Joseph Addison -

My love is like a song

That goes on and on forever

My love is like a prisoner

It's to you that I surrender.

-Tasha Shores-

Friday, July 23, 2004

Random Stuff

A (very, very) rare Bill Waterson interview. The only that I have ever read.

And this... a fitting ode to a strip which has gone to the pot.

That might be the first time the links on this page don't open in a new window! :P

Edit @ 8.30 PM: And if you're as bored as I am... you might wanna read this too! Hehe!

Edit @ 9.30 PM - The Bill Waterson Interview: Arvind asked for a sypnosis of the interview coz apparently the page was too stuffy to read.

Well, Bill talks about his initial financial struggles, the birth of Calvin & Hobbes, and also his earlier days as a drag queen in a gay joint.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Screw You, Blogger!!!

What is wrong with this Godforsaken blog?! The template gets deleted on its own! The posts don't get published on time! Template changes do not become visible for days.

Desperate times call for desperate measures!

This time I will do it the old fashioned way!

The power of Christ compels you!

The power of Christ compels you!

The power of Christ compels you!

The power of Christ compels you!

The power of Christ compels you!

The power of Christ compels you!

Did it work? Please lemme know.

Saturday, July 17, 2004

Woohoo! I saw the Qutub! :D


If there's something that you have been seeing for years and years in textbooks, photos and on TV, and if it were to suddenly resurrect in front you - just like that, in an instant - it really can take your breath away.

I was wandering around the streets of Delhi, when out of nowhere, I thought I saw the Qutub. Couldn't take my eyes off it for a moment.

The very next moment, it occurred to me that I should throw away that damn road-map. I was on my way to JNU when I got lost.




Late Evening Edit: 'Hemant's Law # 37' : The minute your vehicle breaks mid-journey must necessarily coincide with the minute the heaviest downpour of the season starts.

Friday, July 16, 2004


Marte waqt aadmi ko kya dena chahiye?


Birla Cement




Kyunki iss cement mei jaan hai.

Thursday, July 15, 2004

My (back-breaking) ride into town!

Here's the correct way to travel from Vasundhara Enclave to JNU:

And here's what I ended up doing!

Damn! That was good fun! ;-)

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Row, row, row the boat, gently down the stream...!

"Throw, throw, throw the ball, gently down the seam

Murali, Murali, Murali, Murali, chucks it like a dream

Bowl, bowl, bowl the ball, gently through the air

Murali, Murali, Murali, Murali, here comes Darrell Hair ... No Ball!"

- The Barmy Army serenade Muttiah Muralitharan

Rip Off!


For a rookie, commuting in a big city like Delhi ain't easy. The bus routes are hard to fathom, especially with all these buses being of more colours than there are on a rainbow. Drive a two-wheeler without a helmet ad you might just have hell to pay.

There are too many rules to follow. And coming from a city with a much poorer traffic sense, you need time to get acquainted to all these rules and regs. And the rickshaw drivers? They are ready to rip you off faster than you can say 'rip'.

On one particular occassion, I got stuck at Ajmeri Gate, some 50 minutes away from home. Wanted to hire a rick, but the driver was charging me the moon. 15 minutes of bargaining with no other options in sight, I decided to go for it, fully knowing I was paying a bit too much.

Then the fun part. I had to go to Vasundhara Enclave and I was still very confused about the roads leading to home. Since I was being slightly overcharged anyway, I decided to have a bit of fun. Instead of turning left for Vasundhara, I let the driver drive straight into Noida. Then Greater Noida. Then a bit more further till we got completely lost.

Then, we got back into Sector 18. Then to Sector 8. Then to Sector 6. A lot more twisting and turning followed during the while I pretended I did not know the way to home. In that nice round trip of Noida, I had the chance to enjoy the scenery! Hehehe!

I dont know who's worse - the driver, for overcharging me, or me, for making him drive around a good 10-12 KMs extra and letting me have a good look at the roads!

Monday, July 12, 2004

Quote Unquote

"Why's that guy leaving? He can't just go - is he fed up with it?"

The former Wimbledon champion, Venus Williams, shows her bemusement as she watches a wicket fall during a club match in Richmond.

Late night edit: Google Bombing For Nincompoops. Makes interesting reading! Gotta try it out someday! Damn, I'm so bored!

Google for some of these using the I'm Feeling Lucky button:

1) French military victories

2) Weapons of mass destruction

3) Miserable failure

best of all, for

4) Slimes of India

Nice chatting with you, Harneet! ;-)

Sunday, July 11, 2004

Happy Hemant Jayanti! :-P

Shishir 'Taaeer' Shah... writes for me on my birthday...

Aaj k din ko main kaise bhul sakta hu?

Jis din dharti pe tu aa tapka

Ji rahe the uncle aunty aaram se

Diya tune dhire se unhe zor ka jhataka

Roya nahi tha tu tab bhi

To doctor ke hatho ulta latka

Fir bhi bevakuf ko rona nahi aaya

To doctor ne usko sar ke bal patka

Shayad tab to roya hi hoga

Hatho pe kisi ko bhigoya hi hoga

Par ab to tu vayask ban chuka hai

Ladkiyo se bhi lafde kar chuka hai

Itne saare interview de dale tune

Ki interviewer bhi tujse dar chuka hai

Kabhi professors ke dimag jalata

Kabhi baithe baithe khud hi bujh jata

Na jane kaun se vakt tu bana hai

Ke 21 ki umra me bhi bachpana hai

Ek aur mauka khuda ne diya tuje

Aaj ke din 22 ka kardiya tuje

To main kya kahunga unth ke gardan tujhe

Tera hai janmadin...

Mubarak tuje.


Tuesday, July 06, 2004



It has been an awefully long time, don't you think?

I can hardly wait.

Sunday, July 04, 2004


What is it like to break down and cry unconsolably? Does it really cleanse your soul and lighten your heart? Or does it make things worse? I'm afraid, one of these days I will know.

Saturday, July 03, 2004

Just one question...

I'm so happy because today

I've found my friends

They're in my head

I'm so ugly but that's okay

Cause so are you

We've broken our mirrors

Sunday morning is everyday for

All I care

And I'm not scared

Light my candles in a daze...

Cause I've found god

Hey hey hey

I'm so lonely but that's okay

I shaved my head...

And I'm not sad

And just maybe I'm to blame

For all I've heard

But I'm not sure

I'm so excited, I can't wait

To meet you there

But I don't care

I'm so horny but

That's okay

My will is good

Hey, hey, hey

I like it - I'm not gonna crack

I miss you - I'm not gonna crack

I love you - I'm not gonna crack

I kill you - I'm not gonna crack

That just about sums it all up. Couldn't find any any need to actually sit down and write about stuff! Just one question though. Why did he call it 'Lithium'?

I got myself a radio station on LaunchCast. The link is posted under Misc on the right side. Tune in sometime to listen to what allegedly is my kinda music! ;-) If you no like, hit the skip button to listen to the next track!

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

It becomes increasingly hard for me to state how *much* I love this stuff.

Something's seem to be wrong with either this blog or this prehistoric I.E 5.0 that I am using! I cant read my own posts anymore!!! Grrrrr!!!

Times for some real posts. I will be back shortly. Need to get plenty off my chest.

Afternoon Edit: Some Interesting Reading!

Woody Allen Quotes!

Homer Simpson Quotes

Homer Simpson Quotes - II

Bart Simpson Quotes

Ain't that a mouthful? :-D

Tuesday, June 29, 2004


Found this on Rumpelstilskin's blog. Whoops! Am I supposed to take his name? Rumpel... are you still alive?

Try this :

Go to 'language tools' on 'Google'

Type in "my mom is nice and cool" in the 'translate text' box and

convert it from 'English to Spanish'

Then copy & paste the answer into the 'translate text' box and

convert it from

'Spanish to English'

Believe me, the result is a riot. :)

Friday, June 25, 2004

I let my mind out to wander and it didn't come back

What truly defines you? Your thoughts or your actions?

Yes, actions speak louder than words. So what about the unspoken words? What about those thoughts that cannot or should not be expressed? Do they count for absolutely nothing? Don't thoughts make you what you think you are?

What if you pose as someone you are not in your own head? Especially when overcome by an inability to speak your mind or when being weighed down by conscience? What if you try and project yourself as someone who really are not from within, and you do not want to give yourself away?

What if you succeed at it all? What if they really see you as someone you know you are not? How do you define yourself then? By the way you see yourself - having thoughts you don't want to share - or by the way they know you - simply on the basis of your actions?

What the hell am I really talking about?

Sunday, June 13, 2004

Is this cool or what?

Season = Crazy
You're Most Like The Season ... NO wait! Hold it!
You're not like a season at all! You're a
psycho... You need a new season created just
for you.

You either answered wildly to be different, or you
truly are a 'special case'. Independant -
maybe, Intelligent - somewhat. Weird and wacky
- most certainly.

A nut case, a fruit cake, the joker, the insane
lunatic :) However be careful or you may get
locked up.

Well Done... You're not at home in any of the
seasons, you create your own.

Which Season Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I love Quizilla! :-D