Delhi Gang Rape and NICKI MINAJ.

So I heard about the Delhi Gang rape and the poor victim kind of late, due to my assessments before end of term followed by continuous day-dreaming of hiking Table Mountain (which unfortunately I didn't do due to time constrains.). And today morning I woke up with sentences and my powerful opinion, but lost mot of them while I was eating my breakfast.

I think the big commotion for her rape incident and death is not outstanding if compared with the other rape victims from the past. Yes, I am grieving the incident and her death, but just shining the light on her is just making the previous victims feel more secluded and left out. The other ones might not have been mentally stable to report the incident after it occurred. On average, a girl gets raped in Delhi alone every 18 hours (and ironically, most of the rapers know their victims; hardly any are strangers). This girl's rape incident made millions, if not billions, people realize the brutality of rape and how it should have a death penalty. After her incident, I think the best thing for her is to pass away. It is better to be put out of your misery than be put into it. If you compare it with the rape victims of the past, who might still have a life, but will be living it without a life. Get what I mean? I pity those people whose cries go unheard, or unnoticed; who cannot look into any guy's eyes the same way as before. So I don't think that alleviating one girl's incident is good and fair enough. I really don't get the reason behind this, yes it's an eye-opener, but putting her name alone isn't at all fair to the other ones.

If you look at it in a way, rape is almost synonymous to murder - killing the joyful and everlasting soul forever. It should be taken as murder in all the countries.

And if you are opposing my views, I humbly request you not to break into my room and destroy my stuff, I have 3 other rooms in this house. Kidding, but seriously, don't break into this place. I heard that some girl's father's clinic was broken into after her adverse post on Facebook condemning Bal Thackeray (to be honest, I've never heard of him before he died).

Anyway on a happier note (if there is any) I went to Nicki Minaj yesterday. The Nicki Minaj thing wasn't that bad. I mean, after getting a free ticket. I didn't sell it though; people would have paid a bomb. The concert was congested, cold and loud. If you had claustrophobia, you would be found sitting in the corner wailing like a lost baby. People were drinking, smoking and all that. It was like a teenage madhouse. People dancing like no one was watching. It was amazing and freaky altogether. This was my first concert. Nicki was great. She sang well, dressed up pretty decently and all the cuss words were censored cuz it was open for all ages, but that doesn't mean we should omit them from out loud and ear-screeching out-of-tune shrieks. People were drunk as hell; so drunk that they could get lost in their own house.

My school starts at 6th; have a whole week to waste. I am dying to go to Life of Pi.

The world Ending? BULLSHIT.

That hoax is a piece of crap, just like the feces of a cow. Sarcasm intended. I mean all those who believe the world will end are as stupid as a atheist who believes in Resurrection, or a Directioner who thinks those singers are straight.

I'm flying to South Africa that day. If you don't get that statement, just reminding you that the Cape of Good Hopes is there. If you don't get that either, that's the place where the water recedes first. So if everybody dies, I won't feel anything. Sad sad. yes

So a couple of days ago, I won two tickets to Nicki Minaj Concert, thanks to Virgin Radio. Yes, WON not bought. It was a funny story actually, and fortunately I won't take as long as old people narrating their old-time story in which they lived life without TV or Facebook or MP3. I bet they wanted a high tech world in their times, and now since we have it, they blame us and tell us we have no life.

Back to my win, I was listening to Virgin Radio to participate in a contest. It was 10 songs mashed up in a ten second clip and we, the audience must guess the ten songs along with the artist. I downloaded the clip and used Shazam (cheating, FTW!) and deciphered 7 songs. While doing that, some asshole found out the answers before me and told those people, on the radio. He won 40,000 Dhirams. In other words, around 600,000 rupees. Asshole. I got mad and frustrated and departed from my room. I came back and there was an another contest in which the RJ calls a random country and we hear the conversation for a while, and we have to guess which country. I heard many citizens yell random countries and the RJ give certain clues. One certain person said China and the RJ said that the answer was close to is. After there were several Russias and Korea. There was also a France (Americans). I sent in my answer, 'Mongolia'. A few minutes later, I got a call from the office and I was live on radio across the country. My answer was correct, and I won two tickets to Nicki Minaj. But the thing I'm amazed is that I was on radio. One of the things done of 'the things I want to do before I die' (My personal list). Beat that bitches. The tickets cost around 13 thousand rupees.

P.S 1- I am going to South Africa. I won't blog for a week or two.
P.S 2- I still don't know who I'm going to go with.
P.S 3- +Sriaparna Reddy Tu es emmerdant et je parle francais.

10 rules of Life. (I don't agree with all)

So my mom showed me this (which was in Tamil) and she was about to follow this rule. It was kind of unfair but it looked nice. it's a list of ten things you have to have in life. I don't know how to put it, but it was amazing... and still is. I tried my best to translate it.

1. First of all, believe in one thing like God, karma, etc,. without any doubt, because without it, you can have many questions, so be committed to something which you do not doubt.
2. Whenever your mom or your dad tell you something to do, it will be irritating. But at-least once do it without making a fuss and asking questions.
3. Any show which starts at 3, don't watch it. Firstly you'll have to cut classes, you'll get a headache, then you'll have to lie which requires a large memory power. So it's better to avoid.
4. Try to read 4 pages a day.
5. Try to earn atleast 5 rupees one day by yourself. Then think before you ask your parent a thousand rupees for jeans or shirt.
6. You are one of the 6% in India to be grateful for having extravagant benefits and a healthy life. For once, thing about the millions of people who are suffering from threatening ailments
7. You can party, have fun, enjoy buy on Sunday, refrain from going on dates and hanging out with your girl/boyfriends. Because that requires sacrificing time and might lead to unwanted lies. (I don't completely agree with this one.)
8. Run around the ground atleast 8 times a week. Sweat is good and it will give you a good night sleep.
9. Every night, come back home by 9 o'clock. Make it a hobby. (I don't agree with this either)
10. Drag a person, father, mother, sister or brother, make them sit and talk to them for 10 minutes. No matter how busy they are, spend atleast 10 minutes with them.

I know my English is deteriorating, but I guess even a person with hal a brain would have understood what I've said.

Dear Birthday, Happy Rajnikant

So day before yesterday was Rajni's birthday. I have an Indian girl in my class who doesn't know who he is. What a pity the world has become.

When I was in Chennai, I took up an oath to myself. Whenever I'm on the road and I spot a pauper, I would give them at least 5, or else 10 rupees. I have given so much that I could have lost about 200 rupees, or more. I'm a nice kid, not like a girl called Sriaparna Reddy. Psst, she is as meaner than the dark side of a woman with bipolar when she has PMS.

Anyway, yesterday night, I ran the Dubai Midnight Marathon which started at around 11:45. It was a 3.2 km marathon which circumnavigated the Burj Khalifa. I went with my friend and my mom. I ran with my friend though 'cause my mon runs quite slowly. Me and my friend got lucky cause many other people ended up turning the wrong way. I came 35th meanwhile my friend came 25th. He was in the Winners circle. The chief guest was Diego Maradona. Legendary player. He got to go up on the dais and claim a medal personally from Maradona. He won a coupon for a 1TB hard-disc. He went to claim from the counters. The guy in the counters forgot to collect the coupon. He sent me back to get an another one. We went back home with two hard-discs.

My life.

I feel jumpy all of a sudden. And no, this is not a long story I'm writing. Not this time. So I guess this time I talk about my new school and how it has been going so far.

Boohoo, I bet you wouldn't wouldn't wanna know about this school. This school has its own CLEAN swimming pool. It isn't that big, but an Olympic Finalist was born there. Yes, Velimer Stjepanovic, studied in the school before I joined and he was in the Finals of London 2012. How cool is that? Don't believe me (http://www.thenational.ae/sport/other-sport/dubai-college-teen-swimmer-plots-world-route-for-olympic-success). By the way, the school's name is Jumeirah College. Called a college, but is a school in reality. 

The teachers are epic, especially my class teacher. He is super cool, just like some of the other teachers. They are not discreet, at all (what more can you ask for?). We joke about One Direction a lot. Many girls get offended, like really offended, and that is our secret intention.

An another time, we were revising about reproduction and the teacher (not mine, my friend's) was bald and had a long beard, and British too. So he started of saying, "Men's hair grow faster when they think about sex." and he pointed at his long beard and went, "TAADAAA." Honestly, how much epic-er can a teacher get?

An another time, we were looking at some hilarious signs and posters, the teacher showed us a condom stapled to the wall. If you don't get the joke, ask your mom or dad.

My life is awesome, I get to go out, watch movies and come back at midnight. Have I told you my Diwali incident? If I have, you can skip this paragraph. Well, my friend called me to Karama (the Indian place of Dubai) at around 8 o'clock. Previously, my Mom and I had a quarrel and she was mad. So to comfort her, I stayed back for half an hour. I left at thirty-minutes-past-eight (that's how British people say it). I reached there at 9 and promised my mom I'd be back by 10. We went and started bursting crackers, dangerously. Threw bijili at each other. One of them went into my friend's shirt and burst. While we were bursting, the police suddenly came and we ran (bursting crackers is against the law). By then, it was 10 and I had to go. But those people actually took my phone and called my mom, and asked her to allow me to stay by. Yes, they did that. We walked and burst the crackers in a different location. While walking back, we saw some hookers. You must know guys, and I don't need to narrate what we did (no, we didn't talk to them). Then after a while, I went back home. Reached home at 12:30. After I left, the police came and one of my friends ran into the police. Such a nincompoop. 

Yes, that is what happened, it legend ... wait for it ... diwali. xD

So that's it for now. Going to South Africa for winter holidays. The end of the world is a way of YOLO 
people killing themselves. Even if it happens, I'm going to South Africa where the Cape of Good Hope lies.
I believe that on 21/12, Gangnam Style will hit a billion views. 

I killed a man.

I killed a man. I killed a man in the train. The sound of my gun silenced the coach. They should be thanking me for killing the dacoit who took all our money even though I was too late. The several pair of eyes oogled and stared in my direction as if I was caught robbing a bank red-handed. I thought it was the right thing to do. What would you do if a guy takes hard-earned money from a fifteen year old? I got out of the train, penniless. Aware that the station police will try to capture the killer, I had to escape. I knew what I had to do - Lose your trail, lose your tail. For the next couple of hours I boarded one train after the other. After repetitive boarding and disembarking, I finally caught sight of a board which said, "Welcome to Agra."

Several times, I've heard of a great white marble structure in Agra which is architecturally magnificent, but then again what will a guy from the slum know? I later learnt that it was called the Taj Mahal its significance is actually its beauty and the dedication of Shah Jahan. Since I didn't have enough money to buy myself a pair of laces for my shoe, I went to the nearest McDonald's shop and ate out of its trash. I slept in the sidewalks whenever I wanted for a week.

One day I was roaming around and a boy about ten years came up to me and pulled my shirt, pointing towards a distant building. I questioned him, but he just uttered gibberish. I felt like a cat being forced. I reluctantly agreed and went.

He entered the building and led me towards the dining hall. If you look from an exterior, you would just walk passed believing that it just just an ordinary building about ten years old. The interior denies this. It looks clean and floors are covered with carpet. Posh chandeliers hang from the ceiling; the light emanating from it made the room light yellow. A woman came up to me and asked me who I was. Before I could start, the boy, as fast as a lightning, said something which I didn't understand - gibberish. The lady understood and she advised me to stay in the Shankar's (the boy's) room for the time being. Shankar seemed over-joyous - like he had flown over the moon with a cow. He took me around this building, now was more like a palace.

We then entered what was a large dining hall. An elongated dining table stretching twenty metres was placed in the centre. At the other side of the room stood a lady facing the other side wearing exquisite jewellery. Her gown was so vibrant and beautiful that it would have attracted kings from their graves. She swiftly turned towards us; her hair was floating in the air, just like the movies when the heroine catches her first glimpse of the hero   I could see light reflect of her banana skin. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was smiling and laughing as she spun, albeit when she caught sight of us, her happiness rapidly transformed into rage and detest. She was more furious that Shankar came inside than a random stranger. Her face showed no hint of delight nor ecstasy. With her wrathful face, she exited the room with heavy steps.

I later learnt a lot about Shankar and that beautiful woman. Shankar couldn't speak properly - he had some mental illness which he developed after birth which disallowed him to speak fluently. Instead he speaks like he is suffocating from his own saliva, but I got used to it and can understand everything he says to an extent. I also learnt that the beautiful woman was called Meera and was filthy rich. She was the heir of a great King or something who looked after Agra, but after Independence was gained, her family lost all its power and went down in the fame ladder.

As I lived in Agra, I learnt a lot of interesting things. I memorized the history of the Taj Mahal and worked as an illegal tour guide. I used to eavesdrop on existing tour guides and gather and reminisce each and every fact. It didn't pay much, but it gave me enough money to move out of Shankar's room and move into one of Meera's community room (which she built for the poor. we had to pay a small monthly fee) which was next to next to his small house. Shankar also lives in one of the same, but in an isolated one which is free of rent.

Every night, I used to sneak into Shankar's room and frighten him. His skin will turn ice cold and hair would erect up. He used to tell me his day's story in a matter of seconds, and I would understand and our feelings would intertwine. It was miraculous; like an invisble cord had connected us carrying each other's feelings and sympathies. With him, I felt whole.

A new kind of visitor had entered Agra, spreading fast and killing many in it's way. Rabies killed many people who couldn't afford cure and vaccines. It killed a man who was living in this community house. His house was locked and closed. No one leased it.

More days had passed than the proper meals I had. Being an illegal tour guide had run its course. It soon became tedious and tiresome. I ran many errands from time to time. When the door guard was sleeping or flirting with woman,  I would sneak into the pub and take a few shots with my dear friend, loneliness.

I wanted my father and mother back. I want to know who they were, where they are and are they thinking of me now. No, they won't. Being cast away for adoption as a child, no one purchasing me. Finally it ends up in the doorstep of a priest's doorstep. But all that was from the past, an another life I lived.

One day, I was in my room and I heard a repetitive thump on my door. I quickly maneuvered towards the door and opened it. I could see Shankar standing as wobbly as a tree with tears falling from his eyes like waterfall. That instance, I examined him from head to toe and realized a big wound situated on his right leg. Swift as an eagle, I took out the First Aid kit to heal him. Again he thanked my in gibberish which when something like 'Thank you for your help, brother.'

I returned doing what I do best - telling stories to foreign travelers. This round, it were some foreign teenagers who had just finished school and just finished school. They were wearing mini-skirts exposing their cleanly shaved thighs. They were the source of attraction for many street vendors and police officers. If I could read people's thoughts from eye contact, I would have had many 'You lucky bastard' and 'Go get 'em, son's from the crowd. Apparently, they wanted to have some time alone together and each of them had daddy issues. From the looks of it, they wanted something thrill-seeking. If they had told me I would have taken them to Palikir Street where the most famous brothel in Agra is situated. It is not renowned for the women there which will make your night high. No, there is a free buffet which includes Chat. People say it gives 'orgasms in your mouth', which I find quite ironic.

Shankar was now put in a relationship with the bed. His wound had been an entrance for some deadly disease. Soon his enthusiasm deteriorated just as much as his strength. I called a doctor, Dr. Sriaparna Reddy, who examined him. Her street name was Ms. Know-It-All, cause she acts she is really cool, when she isn't. It was what I feared, rabies. She demanded an addition three hundred rupees for coming to such an unhygienic place like this. People like these must have their heads cut of, dipped in Chat and fed to lions. She gave me a prescription which contained a cure. I went to the clinic and gave the prescription gracefully. They pharmacist stared at me. He reluctantly went and brought back a huge box. The only thing which caught my eye and held on wasn't the title which said 'Rabeis Kure', but the thing below which said, 'Rupees 4,00,000 only'.

I went back home holding a sad and depressed face. I opened the door and saw him sketching something. When he noticed me, he scrambled all the papers together and slid them into his blue book and put it under his pillow. I think he revered me stupid cause he went back to lying down and groaning.

Soon his groaning became genuine. I shifted him into my room, which was bigger and better. I took how many ever days I wanted to take off, no one cared. I looked after Shankar like any parent would do, like any brother.

When Shankar was off sleeping, I crept my hand under the pillow and took out the blue book. Inside, there were drawing of one woman to stunning detail. I would have been more thrilled, if the drawing had not been Meera, the princess.

I walked upto her door and rang the bell several times. I knew that she was that poor boys mother. I told her about Shankar's illness and his desperate need for a cure. She wasn't bothered until I accused her of being the boy's mother. I could see fear and nostalgia bloom in her face. She turned her rage mode on and accused me of accusing her, if that makes sense. I told her that the cure could save a person's life. She denied to help and slammed the door on me. I felt like the pathway to hope had just been broken.

I lost all hopes. I couldn't afford the cure and the worst is yet to come. Hydrophobia, the worst way to die. Thrist yourself to death. When water becomes a foe. Days later, he attains hydrophobia. He doesn't drink anything liquid. Not even an apple.

I would look at him, a ten-year old fighting with all his might but still in vain. His constant contractions of muscles would bring tears to my eye. My friend, who had helped me from the horrors of Agra needed my help. And I can't deliver. I would sit in the corner of the room staring at the bed. I went to Meera's place in need for money for the last time. She would open the door slightly, catch sight of me and slam the door without saying a word. As I walked back, I would hear the loud clicks of locks locking.

Atleast I was cast out as a baby, oblivious to what my mother looked or sounded like. I pity Shankar though. He must have known his mother well, then gained the mental illness and caste out. What kind of mother will be ashamed of their baby? Atleast his mother is only half-hearless - no rent for him. But it doesn't matter now.

The following day at around 11 o'clock, Shankar got into a serious serious series of fits. He started moving and screaming. His breathing pace increased along with his sweat. He looked at me and grasped my hand tightly. For a second, I could see a lot of things in his eyes, ranging from fear to death. He looked at me and uttered his last words. I was astounded because he spoke in proper English. Then he looked out the window and smiled. His limping stopped. His eyes remained open seeing nothing but darkness. Time of death - 11:11.

I was running on the road, carrying a dead body. I walked up to the apartments; the guard was sleeping. I heard loud noises from inside - Meera must be having a party. I went inside by the back entrance and ended up in the kitchen. I worked my way through and went to the Dining Room, where guests were eating in their neat formals. I climbed the table and dropped the body. I could hear grasps and shrieks from men and women. Everybody's eyes were peered my way. Meera was on the other end of the table. I screamed, "His last words were 'Tell my mommy I love her'!". I jumped off the table and left the palace-looking apartment. I learnt that no one had desert that night.


/* This is from the book Q&A. I totally loved this part. It almost made me cry. I wanted to recreate it, I guess I didn't do as well as the book. 

Life of Pi

I haven't blogged recently. I am aware. There are a lot of things going around my big bad-ass'd world. But there is one thing I really want to do. Watch Life of Pi. I read the reviews and they are mind bursting. The book is kickass, I just hope they don't add nonsensical bogus which will make the movie rot as fast as a banana. The book almost made me cry. It might be an ordinary story of a guy who is stranded in the middle of the Pacific with a Bengal tiger, but it's more than that. It's about his conquest and challenges; facing crisis and conflict; the survival of of man; the journey of life. I really liked the part where he opens the tortoise's shell and eats it. I hope they show it in the movie too. Although the movie doesn't release here until the second fortnight of December.

Pi Patel. Yann Martel absolutely deserves the Man Booker Prize for that book. It is a landmark in the heart of Books. It was the first book which thought me it is possible to follow all religions and yet not be critically criticized. Pi is the same as Ram Mohammed Thomas from Q&A (now infamous for Slumdog Millionaire) - follows all religions. All-together, Life of Pi is an amazing book, a must read book. It changed my opinion on a lot of things. I would read it again and again if it weren't my mother who took it and kept it in HER shelf. But I am still enthusiastic in reading Beatrice and Virgil. 

The long and short line.

So as I may have mentioned before, my mom is totally nuts and wants me to get into the Ivy League. She then got a book names, "What It Really Takes To Get Into The Ivy League". I was bored one day and I started reading the first page. Only the first page. Although it may seem like a boring book, I really likes the starting. And it went something like this :-

A sage-like colleague of mine (of the author) had a knack of reading an audience and sensing a tense atmosphere when he was about to give a presentation on admission to Harvard College. He lightened the mood by drawing a long line and a short line on the nearest board or easel and began:

Imagine that the long like is all that is known about the admissions process.
Then the short line is all that is understood about the admissions process.

Imagine that the long lime is all that is understood about the admissions process.
Then the short line is all that I understand about the admissions process.

The long like is all that I understand about the process.
The short line is all that I'll be able to tell you about the process.

The long line is what I will tell you about the process.
The short line is what you will comprehend about the process.

The long line is admission to Harvard.
The short line is your chance of getting admitted.

From a lake to a dinosaur

September 11. A day of mourning and reminiscing the past. To all those people who have fought the war and died forever a hero. To all those people who wished their children would never die the way day did. And after a hundred years, not much has changed. The people who are dying everyday in Syria; those American guys who are in Afghanistan; no one is safe nowadays. Not even your sandwich cooked by your uncle's second wife (tried a bit of humor. Didn't laugh? Okay).

So what if two Big-ass nations don't want to secure human rights in Syria. Its like two fat people advise you not to eat McDonald's. I know my comparison doesn't make perfect sense, but you get it.

Anyway, Diwali is here. The way people celebrate is by putting lights on their balcony signifying they are Indians. I haven't put anything. Sue me. All I want to make some noise, but if I do the police will catch me and condemn me to Social service. Its one thing I hate to be told to do something, it's worse to be told in a language you hardly know.

Anyway, if I didn't wish you a Happy diwali, its probably because I'm not satisfied with my Diwali. 

Two limbs and a big heart.

Saw that picture? Now let me ask you this - Have you ever had that sudden feeling to give up cause something is too arduous? Well, look at the picture again. This was during the Paralympics. There are numerous other alike to this one and I could post some more of them, but you get my point. Now the next time you say, 'It is too hard!' or 'I can't take it anymore.' just remember your argument is just as stupid as when Dick Rowe of Decca Records said the Beatles' songs are worthless. No matter how cold and dark your heart is, you can't say involuntarily that this guy is an ass, I have three things to tell you. You're a douche bag, a douche bag and an even bigger douche bag.

Trench Warfare

----I wrote this story in a hurry! I have 2 assessments tomorrow! And this was my homework! It involved a story, so I thought... maybe...

On 11th December 1914, I was selected for the army. It was also my mother's birthday. I watched tears pour out of her eyes as I packed my belongings to depart into my destiny. I felt that serving my country for a greater purpose was what destined to do. I also felt an adventure brimming. After my packing was done, I set foot out of the house, only to return after we had won the war. I turned back to wave goodbye to my mom, who had a tears overflowing from her eyes. I set out, with a smile on my face, but soon they would turn inverted.

It took two months of rigorous training and demonstrating survival skills in extraordinary conditions for me to be recruited to go into the war. On 20th February 1915, I was put in a small segment of the Western Trench, to fight until my last breath. My first few days were arduous. Not to mention cold. Being new, they made me be the clothes-washer. Every night, I used to collect all the soldiers clothes and wipe them clean until the lice flee'd.

After a couple of weeks, I was allowed to hold a gun and fire. I took my stance and held the rifle high, aimed and shot. It hit right on target - the guy dropped dead. It wasn't the feeling I expected. I felt a dark abyss of pain engulf me. I had never felt this dark before. I just took the life of a person. Horrified and out of words, I put my gun down and went to the dugout. At night, I tried not to bring that gruesome memory back.

The following day, I was back on clothes duty. As I was washing, I noticed this peculiar soldier. He wasn't shooting, he was praying on his knees. From the looks of it, he looked underage. He got up eventually, and climbed the trench. He shouted, 'God save me,' and ran into the No Mans' Land. Within seconds he was shot to the ground. I was glued to my place, the clothes fallen on the ground. From then, I was determined to get out. And get out fast. I took the gun closest to me and aimed it at my foot. I knew it was sacrificial, but I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. Pain traveled through my body faster. I fell on the ground shivering with pain. I could see the blood oozing out of my boots. I regret joining the army. I should have stayed back. I could have avoided all of this. I wish I had.

The light behind the door.

This was my first attempt at writing a horror story. It might not turned out as planned.

Cheng was selected as the team leader to design something almost improbable; a way to charge an electronics wirelessly. He had been breaking his head to figure out different way to to solve this problem. His dustbin was overflowing with crushed paper.
After hours and hours of experimenting with ideas and evaluating numerous different means of solving the problem, he had done it. He had come up with a simple but brilliant idea. 'How had no one else thought of it before?' he wondered. He was certain his solution would change the course of electronic history. His name would be just as famous as Tim Berners-Lee, Charles Babbage and all the other 'heroes' who shaped the world into what it is today. He also fantasized the future generation babbling on his discovery and learning about it in high school. He imagined the students cursing him for being so innovative and extraordinary for creating something that the Computer textbook would dedicating semester learning his life and his inspirations. Cheng gave a small smirk. Wait until his wife hears about this. Assured that tomorrow would be the best day of his life and so will tonight, he went back to his room. Little did he know that tonight would be his last.

He went passed the room that spooked both of them for quite a while. In the middle of the night, flashes of green light would emanate inside those doors and would light up the hallway. Engulfed by fear and faintheartedness, they locked the door to forbid the inside 'thing' from escaping.

He crept up the bed, excited to tell his wife. He shook her, but she just gave a cacophonous groan and continued sleeping. He, tired as he already was, also slept.

In the middle of the night, Cheng had to excrete his bodily fluids. He got up the bed. It make a loud creak which broke the midnight silence. The floor, which was half eaten by termites made a creak everywhere he went. he opened the door, and progressed into the dark corridor. Half eaten by sleep, he opened the door. The handle was hard to twist, but due to his pressure which was brewing inside his body he used all his force. It was like the last of a wounded animal; it would give its every strength. With mighty force as powerful as a tornado's wind, he opened the door. As he entered, he smelled something unusual. Something you wouldn't smell in a bathroom at the dead of night. As he opened his zip to unleash the pressure.

He washed his hands, flushed and walked back. The sound and him walking back made feel like Iron Man - walking the other way of the explosion. He walked down the silent corridor. For a second, he was struck by the thought of being alone again. But then he told himself, 'Get a grip, you get laid almost everyday now.'

He made a huge grin, so big that he could advertise for Whitening commercial. As he was walking back, the corridor lit up with green light. It was from that door again. He froze as quick as water in Antarctica. Stoned to his position, he watched it grow in brightness. It was bright for a long time and all of a sudden, the corridor turned dark. Cheng could hear himself breathing heavily. In a matter of seconds, there was a deafening bang on that door. He could feel his legs breaking apart. The loud banging continued for a while. The monster inside was trying to get out. Cheng would have peed his pants, only if he had any left. The door kept being hit until the door fell. The cold air from the door falling on the floor covered Cheng's face and made every hair in its body erect.

Slowly, an elongated silhouette of a tentacle like structure appeared in the hallway. As it emerged, every muscle in Cheng's body denied to flicker. Instead of running for his life, his body stayed glued to its position like a stamp on an envelop. The tentacle developed in size and stature. A obscure oval shaped face emerged, followed by a slender body and a long pair of legs. From where Cheng was standing, he could see the odd shape against the moonlight. His blood froze as he realized it was heading towards the master bedroom, where his beautiful wife slept in peace. The 'alien' didn't notice him.

Cheng had the opportunity to chose - whether to run for his life and become one of the most innovative humans in the world, or he could risk his life and save his beautiful and lovely wife. He turned around and walked towards the door.

Meanwhile, the wife lay on the bed, unaware of the proceedings in the corridor. She kept altering her pose in her bed, feeling uneasy about the sudden flash of light making her mind run out of its mind. She crept up her sheets to cover her face from the blinding lights, but all her actions were worthless. She could still see the light pass through her sheets. She felt a sudden tug on her sheet. Thinking it was her husband playing a night prank, she pulled back the sheet. Albeit, the tug got stronger after every pull she made. Pissed off, she semi-consciously got up and slapped him.  The contact she made wasn't on skin, but rather on fabric. Feeling bemused, she slightly opened her eyes to look at its face. After a couple of seconds of adjustment, a sudden pang of realization hit her. She noticed that there was no face, but a white cloth-covered like oval shaped face. She had heard of him when she was a child, in stories retold by her mother. A urban myth, it was. Now she understood the reality - it wasn't a myth after all. Slenderman is back. The Slenderman leaned back and stood 7 foot tall, nearly touching the ceiling. He reached out his arm and it elongated at his will. She sat there, motionless, alike her husband. The hand reached out to her, wavering in the air.

Not too far away, Cheng lay on the grassy flood, dead as a post with his face disfigured. 

The broccoli joke

There was once a guy who was working in the vegetables department in the grocery store and a lady walks up to him and asks, "where is the broccoli?" And he says, "we ran out of broccoli, it will be there by tomorrow morning."

He goes back doing his work and is stacking the oranges and he hears someone pat him on the back and say, "mister, mister." He turns around and finds the same lady inquiring, "Where's the broccoli? I can't seem to find them."
And he says, "Ma'am, we are fresh out of broccoli and we will have them tomorrow morning.

He goes back to work. A couple of minutes later, the same woman walks right up to his face and asks, "How come I can't find any broccoli?"

And he replies, "Lady, will you do me a favour?" The lady agrees and says, "what?"
"How do you spell 'cat'? As in catastrophic?"
"C-A-T"
"Good. Now how do you spell 'dog'? As in dogmatic?"
"D-O-G"
And then he says, "now how do you spell 'fuck' like in broccoli?"
She says, "there is no fuck in broccoli!"
"THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU LADY!"

If you don't get it. I pity you.

A new beginning.

I'll come out clean. I think Indian teaching is better. Here, I am now learning things which I've learnt in 7th and 8th standard. I feel nostalgic on all the activities I did in Chennai. Its like pouring hot water on your burn. You are going through the same stages again. An in addition to my school's teaching, I am the eldest in my year group. I feel like a carrot in a potato field. But there are things about this school I like very much.

In PSBBM, I used to learn if copper sulphate is blue. I knew that because everyone said it is blue and I saw experiments on how it's done. Although, I never actually got to do the experiment here. Now I know what you're thinking. And yes, I did get to do the experiment here. It was awesome. I could see the blue crystalline structure and got a merit for saying its molecular formula.

So you basically can't say I hate my school, nor can you say I love it. Its okay... for now. 

There is never a place like home.

To be honest, I was kind of excited to get out of Chennai. It felt that it would make a difference in my life. It might've been also to learn a new language. I felt that "I know so many languages that I could speak one for every day of the week, including French (inside joke :P )" might have been a cheesy pick-up line. Cheesy but it might work, probably. On the other hand, it was nice to be reunited with my mother.

Dubai is a good place to stay. Hot, but good. The roads are cleaner, the people much more friendly. Adults and teenagers give up their space for senior citizens. The atmosphere isn't polluted with smoke (sometimes sand) . Although a litre of water is costlier than petrol, life is satisfactory here.

People respect other people the same line they respect themselves. Disposable bags are thrown in the bins as supposed to. Traffic rules are regulated and followed. Almost every Indian has stories on how many times they have failed the driving test. From what I've heard, one of my mom's friend failed in the 17th attempt.

Dubai is (mostly) everything which Chennai is not - and yet I miss Chennai. Chennai throbs with an entirely different culture and means of living. Every morning I used to wake up to the shouts of the vendor lady screaming at the top her voice, 'keerai!'.

I miss the people. Even though they will scream at me if I try to do some stupid things in front of them saying I don't have any 'arivu'. Seems that if you are intact with the madness, you long to get away from it. Once you are away from you, you miss the very exact madness.

PSBB Millennium. More than just a school*

PSBB Millennium. The name might itself bring about some sort of memory you would want to relive again and again. I have several in mind. It might not excel academically, but you can be damn sure you'll have fun in other methods.

When I transited to India from China, I came with a mind completely filled with bogus - such as my friends will be lame; the teachers will be strict; I will get punishment from time to time, etc. But it was not always like that. I made new buddies, better friends. And then I had my time. I felt like it was the awesomest time of my life. I never wanted it to end. It was like a never ending roller-coaster ride. I had my thrills and turns, but I would be going in the same loop again and again.

And then my mom came and told me that I would have to emigrate to Dubai. I felt like someone had stopped the roller-coaster. I felt really bad. And then out of the blue, it dawned on me. I had been so engrossed with PSBB that I feared leaving it would leave me lonely and incomplete. I was like a frog born in a well. I would have no shot of escaping unless someone throws down a bucket for me to climb on board. And throw a bucket they did.

First I was looking at the Cons of going to an another place. And then my mom gave me a huge lecture on how my education plays a huge factor and how I could be two step closer of being an Ivy League graduate (yes, she thinks I'm extremely smart and I have a chance of going there. :P ). I listened to her drone on about other stuff as in the culture and the environment ( {on a semi-unrelated note} ironic thing is, she had a talk with me yesterday about the male Sheikhs here. Seems that they don't have exposure to women at a young age, so most of them turn out gay. So she advised me to not get to attached to strange Arab people as they could molest me o.O ).

And then after self-convincing and self-motivation, I finally brought myself back onto the same level as others and started behaving like nothing is going to change. I could now say "I was living life to its fullest!" I knew the power to not give a blueberry pie when a problem arises, and experienced how it feels like to not complete a task when given and nothing devastating would happen to you. It felt LEGENDARY! You should experience that feeling once.

I got back to reality and tried to enjoy it to its fullest! Although these loony FAs and SAs acted like a speed-breaker. But in the end, I had enough fun and memories to remember for a long time, unless I get hit in the heard really hard and I forget everything or a large alien army recruit me and brainwash me to work for them. A man can dream, can't he?

And all those imbeciles out there who are darn sure that I will forget them and will lose touch with them after a while. Well, I would like to ask you the same thing.If you're soo sure I wont remember you, how can I be sure you will? Right back at ya'! well, if you still have even a shadow of a doubt, well think again you paranoid sleazeball. You're just as wrong as that frog which thought the well was the world.

Overall, PSBBM was an amazing school, and some people there are good. You get the right set of friends there and you ready to go on a ride which you'll never experience again (or maybe will)!

Thank you TPSBBMians and the school for making this small awesome person an even awesome-r guy (if you're offended in any way, well I'm sorry but its true. Its time for you to face the truth you fat old geezer.)

Note 1: I was being sarcastic on that one.

Note 2: Actually I wasn't.
*Conditions Apply. Only for happy and satisfied people.

Goodbye, Shiny.

When I first saw him, he was a small white puppy. My mother had bought him for me as my 20th birthday gift. We named him Shiny. I used to play with him like I was a 6 year old chap. Every evening we used to go to the park and I used to throw a tennis ball and he used to fetch it. He was my best friend. I would tell him stories even though he wouldn't understand them. He would just loll his head. 

Early mornings on a weekend, I would take him to the beach and watch him play in the sunrise. He would get himself wet, roll around in the mud and come towards me. I could do nothing but laugh. Sometimes I would go into the sea for a swim, and I would watch as he paddles towards me.

Then afterwards, when I got a job, I would come home after noon to inspect and feed him and I would be off until four. Every time I used to set foot in the house, he would pounce on me like I were a magnet and I would fall down.

Then the time came when I got married to Hannah. She moved in and it was the three of us living together. 

The playing time decreased and Shiny started to feel left out. For a long time, it was just the two of us, but now he felt that Hannah had taken his place. What Shiny didn't know what I loved him just as I loved Hannah. But I should have reserved some play time for Shiny because he went in front of a truck and was squashed like a watermelon and a hammer.

Keep in mind - Its not my story! :P 

(Working title)

The baby's cry reverberated of the room. The blaring sound was much awaited. The nurse handed over the just born baby to the mother. Tears of happiness and joy poured out of her eyes. The nurse informed her that the small baby was going to live a happy life. The nurse then took the baby of the mother's soft hands and handed the baby to the father. The father's face showed nothing close to happiness. He put the baby back into the cradle and silently walked out of the room. And he was never to be seen again.

The boy was recognized as Zaphia. He was brought up by his mother alone. At home, he had to do all the chores because they were missing a pair of hands. He used to wash his and his mom's clothes and do the dishes. His mother used to return home late. Every month, she used to return with a story in hand. The mother used to read one to him every night before they slept. Zaphia adored his mother above all humanity. Every weekend, his mother used to take him to the beach and watch the sun rise. It was a wonderful sight. They could see white ball of light rising from the horizon. This would be the highlight of the week. Then, his mother would bear his weight on her shoulders and run around the beach even though it pained a lot.

When he came of age, Zaphia was sent to school. He used to take his studies seriously. He believed that if he studied well, he could give his children a life his mother never gave him. He was the smartest student of his age. Everyday after school, he would run home and clean the house. When his mother entered the house, he would pounce on her like a dog does to its owner. He would tell her each and every interesting incidents which occurred in school and his mother used to listen intently. They used to continue this routine until Zaphia went to college.

The mother went to drop her son at the train station. The mother kissed him on the cheek and said, "I'll be waiting." With that, Zaphia boarded the train. The solitary mother stood there, waving in one hand and holding a handkerchief in another. After the train was no where to be seen, and all the other parents departed, the mother stood there and reminisced all the things they did together. With a tear in her eye, she left back home, knowing that no one would be waiting for her. All was gone.

During his first year, she used to receive a post card every week regarding his hospitality, events happening in college, friends he made, etc,. But then, the time between cards started increasing and increasing. It became two weeks, then four and then once in two months. And all of a sudden, she never received any postcards. She felt really bad. It was as if a opaque wall had been put between Zaphia and his mother. She felt lonlier the minute.

After a couple of years later, while returning home from work, she found the front door slightly open. Her fear bloomed. She could feel her heartbeat throbbing on her neck. She knew that if robbers broke into the door, she wouldn't have the strength to fight them. She quietly opened the door and the house was filled with darkness. She took the object closest to her, which was an umbrella and headed towards the hall. There she could see a silhouette of a man standing. She was about to throw the umbrella at him when the light turned on. It took her a couple of seconds for her eyes adjust but when it hit her, she immediately dropped the umbrella and rushed towards Zaphia. After she finished hugging him, she realized that he was holding a medal. Engraved on it was 'Student of the year'. She started smiling so much that her cheek started paining.

At night, they slept in one bed and the mother recited one of the stories she used to tell when he was smaller. But this didn't last long either. Soon, he got married and emigrated out of the country. The mother got lonely again. She used to receive some money and a postcard once a month with pictures of her grandchildren.

She quit her job and lived with the money sent by her son. Zaphia planned to come meet his mother along with his children but later cancelled it because of his promotion.

Soon, the mother became very ill and had to stay in bed. Zaphia took a month off and came to visit her alone. He switched off his phone and removed all modes of communication. They went back into the old times. This time though, he told her stories.

Then one day, the mother woke up somewhere she remembered being a long time ago. The sight was dark. Beside her was Zaphia. He said that he had a surprise for her. He turned the chair around and seated a couple of yards away was a woman he had only seen once and two children he had only seen pictures of. The children ran towards her and hugged her very tightly. She remembered Zaphia hugging her a long time ago. Then he turned the chair back to the initial position. She was facing the sea. They five sat facing the east and watched the sun rise. It was the same as watching it forty years ago. The golden sunlight rose from the horizon. It was a treat for the eyes. Then slowly, she turned towards her son and melodiously said, "I love you and thank you for everything," which she had been waiting to say for some time. She faced the rising sun and gently closed her eyes. She thought quickly of the things she could have done if her husband hadn't left her - the life they could have had. She thought of the dark abyss which will engulf her. And slowly her eyes closed, never to be opened again.

It was raining heavily outside...

So today I was bored in class, so I asked a person beside me to give me a starting phase for me to complete as a story. She gave me "It was snowing heavily outside...". So this was the story I did in class.

It was snowing heavily outside when I woke up. I found out that I was abandoned by my team. An empty rifle sat beside me. I was in a deserted house, window glasses shattered. Suddenly my walkie-talkie began to beep. At first I thought it was a malfunction, but later discarded that hypothesis. Once I picked it up from my left leg, the man on the other line said, "Both your teammates were killed in action. You're all alone. There are still enemies hiding. Be at the pier in two hours. A helicopter will be waiting to pick you up. This shall be your last chance. Oh, and, keep the rest of your fingers safe."
It was then when I realized that the ring finger on my left had had been amputated. I left the house and out to the blistering cold. I noticed that beside it was a warehouse. I broke the door and went in. Inside, there were shit loads of ammunition, an awesome looking motorcycle, hefty sandbags and some jacket. I reloaded my rifle, took some other guns and grenades and took the black jacket. I hot-wired the motorcycle and ventured out into the cold road. I knew where the pier was. As I was travelling, two bikers from behind started to open fire at me. I had little to react and just dropped a grenade. To my luck, the grenade blew up just in time and finished them both off. When I reached the pier, it was deserted too. There were flying posters here and there and big barracks in the middle. I had no idea why they were there. As I went to the middle of the pier, people dressed in black started shooting at me. It was an ambush! There were almost 7 of them. They must have seen this forthcoming. I took the machine gun which was hanging on my back and took cover behind one of the sandbags. I started killing 'em one by one. When there were two of them left, I heard the helicopter's blades slicing the wind. I glanced at it and fired a flare to show my presence. It was a little later when I realized it was a grave mistake, as it wasn't my ride. I knew they they would finish me from above. Once they were directly above me, they poured transparent liquid. I thought it was acid, but when it fell on me, nothing affected my skin. It was extremely cold. At that instant I knew what it was. It was water. But it struck me, why would they pour water? To freeze me to death? Then another wave was poured, but this time it was carried along with a low voice saying, "get up!"

The scenery changed as fast as a blink of an eye. I was staring at the ceiling. My clothes were soaked in water. And when I sat upright, I saw my dad with a bucket in hand. He was yelling at me cause I was late for school.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.

An awesome representation of a poem! :D

The beautiful lady or the hungry lion?

This story came for comprehension in my class. I felt like that the story was awesome. I could have made some alterations or added some stuff along the way.

There once lived a semi-barbaric king. He had a beautiful daughter that was the light of his life. He loved her very dearly. Later on, when she came of age, she had an affair with one of the courtiers. He was young, tall, handsome and brave. Their clandestine love affair had been been going on for 6 months, until the king discovered its existence. The furious semi-barbaric king sent him to the dungeons till the day of trial. When the day of trial arrived, it was held in a big arena which accommodated people from different parts of the kingdom awaiting to see the final decision. The procedure was that the youth would confront two doors. He would choose one of them which would ultimately choose his fate. Inside one of the doors was a peckish lion which could chow down any flesh that was presented before it. The other was a beautiful woman in a bikini. If he had chosen the beautiful woman, he was granted the permission to make her his bride, albeit if he chose the one with the craving lion, he would have to brawl with it. The king and the other courtiers were sitting in the tallest tower overlooking the arena. The daughter, who was sitting beside the king, was still in love with the young man. However, she knew who the lady behind the door was. She was the most beautiful woman in the court and resented her very much. The youth entered the arena through a small door in the side. In those times, it was accustomed to bow before the king before performing any heroic acts. He did not bow. He was constantly looking at the beautiful daughter seated right of the king. The king and the courtiers along with the daughter knew behind which door crouched the lion and which door stood the lady. While the young man and the daughter exchanged eye contact, the daughter raised her hand and with a quick flick of wrist pointed right. No one else witnessed the movement. As the young courtier moved towards the door, every eye was fixed on him, every breath was held and the arena was filled with silence. Without any hesitation, the man went and opened the right door.

This story was actually written by Frank Stockton.

CVMUN 2012

On 21st and 22nd July, 2012, my friends and I attended the first ever MUN (held by Chettinad Vidyashram - CVMUN) representing our school. We didn't have any experience, so it was our first time as "MUNners"(First batch to go for the MUN too! B) ). It was epic! I was the Delegate of Indonesia for General Assembly. And I wanted to brief what happened on Day 1 and Day 2.

Day one
Day one's agenda was quite boring. Except for the Sri Lankan delegate (Rohit). He was the star of the whole committee. He brought life into the boring foyer. He was the bright light emanating from the black hole (if that is even possible). Unlike the delegates from China and France, who kept pin-pointing inaccurate facts, his questions were immaculately epic and although some were immature, they were very funny. Even the executive board could not refrain from laughing at times. He posed questions which had nothing to do with out agenda - over-population. Like what has the Russian government done for the over-exploitation of children by the Russian mafias? What has the Ethiopian government done for the drugs on 'small people' (he meant children). And when he was chosen to speak about overpopulation issues in Sri Lanka, he started of with the line "Population is the most important lesson in Population Geography." (It might not sound epic, but it was when we heard it). This raised a roar of laughter, even from the EB. His speech was mainly stressed on the rape and prostitution in Sri Lanka. He kept shouting unasked for remarks (unwanted but epic). And once, the chair criticized the Russian delegate that Russia was overpopulated, but the delegate denied stating that Russia was "underpopulated". This also caused a loud laughter. And from that moment on, Rohit kept mocking and calling Russia as "underpopulated". Then the Delegate of France got very frustrated. He put forward a motion to suspend Rohit. This motion was passed and Rohit was suspended for a mere two minutes.

Day two.
This day was also epic. I was the first to speak about the agenda - political instability. Lucky for me, neither did the delegate of France nor China pose me a question. As per the agendas, that day was pretty boring. The only "lively taken" agenda was the 'legalization of polygamy and polyandry all over the world. Can you guess who was the first to speak? If the Srilankan delegate was the first to come into your mind, please award yourself a cookie. His speech couldn't be continuous because of the roaring laughter. I guess his speech went something like this

"Sri Lanka is an underpopulated country, and the delegate of Sri Lanka would like to legalize polygamy and polyandry because we want to grow in population. Even though our country's community would not accept this, The delegate of Srilanka would like to put forward this idea"

I'm pretty sure that that wasn't his exact speech, but it went something like that.
Anyway, this thing is getting boring to write, so I guess I would like to conclude this thing as one of the Best First things I have and will ever attend,.

Race against Time.

So, why does time fly when your having fun? And it seems as if time flies by faster as you get older, but why? When you are younger, you have new experiences. You see your parents for the first time. You learn your first language. Every single thing around you is new information. When your brain puts these new details together, they seem slower when you look back on them. When you age, your understanding of the world is more vast. But since you are surrounded by the usual family, friends and schools, details aren't taken in so intricately. These make days seem like fleeting moments! (Found this on the web)

So while growing up, try to accomplish challenges you believed you can't do - do something new everyday. Cause when you're an old man filed with regret, sitting in a wheelchair, all you can do is flood your mind with old memories. At-least try to make those memories fun to remember!

Have you ever had a friend?

Have you ever had a friend
That will make your life soo bright
He will stay until the end
And be your brightest light.

He pulls you when your down,
And never leaves your side
He makes smiles from every frown,
And helps you in every fight.

He is always there
Even in the darkest hours
He follows you everywhere
Even the tallest of towers.

Have you ever had a friend
Who will be by your side
A friend who will stay till the very end
Even if you have ever lied.

My first poem! It wouldn't be that awesome since its my first! :P

Young age memories.

When I was young, I was innocent, very innocent.
I was in Year 4 (9 years old) and we had after school activities. I opted for illusions. Our teacher, Mr. Smith, was showing us some optical illusions(sentences). And there was this thing which was pretty hard to read. But I could decipher it.
It said "lift". It looked similar to one which I've seen before. So I wanted to tell the teacher. He asked me if it was relevant or not. I thought it was and told it to him. The sentence was "No sex causes bad eyes."
I didn't know ANY cuss words then. So I thought 'Sex' meant gender.
Once I told him, he made me get out of the class.
Now I understand what I really said.

The friend who just 'stands by'

This poem came for my English comprehension. If you're in 9th and you got Code - A (or read it from a friend's), you might remember this. This poem just blew me away.

When trouble comes your soul to try,

You love the friend who just "stands by."

Perhaps there's nothing he can do --

The thing is strictly up to you;

For there are troubles all your own,

And paths the soul must tread alone;

Times when love cannot smooth the road

Nor friendship lift the heavy load,

But just to know you have a friend

who will "stand by" until the end,

whose sympathy through all endures,

Whose warm handclasp is always yours--

It helps, someway to pull you through,

Although there's nothing he can do.

and so with fervent heart you cry,

"God bless the friend who just 'stands by'!"

Exams.

Exams. The world itself might bring some sadness (or happiness) upon you. A simple word can either make you stressed or angry (or happy if you're different). When some person comes to you and tells you a week before the exam, "We have exams starting next week!" you don't feel the pressure. You only feel it once it is a few hours away and your blank. And you get even stressed when your friend has finished more than you.

And nowadays I witness girls cry for stupid exams like their life depends entirely on it (I'm not criticizing you but it's what I think). I find it absolutely foolish. I mean, you must do well. And if you didn't do well your the one to blame. And like Ross (from Friends) said in one if the episode, "Don't blame the questions."


And in 10 years time, when you will be making out with your dream person (forever alones aside), this wouldn't matter, would it?

The lost can sometimes be found.

Don't you find it awkward that when your searching for a particular thing it is nowhere to be found but when you aren't, you see it all the time?
Like when you have to go for school and before your school bus arrives you search your whole house for your identity card. But you are sure that you kept it above the table the previous day. Or when you have to jot down a number or a reminder and you're frantically searching for a pen, and when you find one it doesn't have ink.
These things happen in each and every house. You keep one thing in a place and it gets shuffled to some other place by your cleanliness-addict mom/dad or your housemaid (or sibling). And whenever you inquire them, the frequent reply you get is either, "I DON'T KNOW," or "you keep your things in a safe place next time."
And one of the things which is most misplaced in the house is the CELLPHONE. But thanks to the landline, we can ring it up and find the phone. I once found mine in the obscure region of the toilet. Thank goodnesss that it wasn't in silent mode!
Keys. Car keys, house keys, cycle keys. They just disappear when you need them. Suddenly you have to go  buy something(which you remember in the last minute), and your searching here and there for the keys(if your not going by walk) and when you find it, you promise yourself to hang them in their proper place henceforth but never do.
We all know that there aren't any ghosts roaming around your house trying to make you look like a complete idiot. But I mom tells me that I'm careless, lazy and a absent-minded person. And I don't think this has anything to do with my carelessness. Ohh wait... then again, she might be right.

The power of a dad.

A father can be the light of your life. From the time his sperm penetrates the egg (think scientifically) till your graduation(and maybe more), he is there every step of the way. He makes up half of your existing chromosomes for all species. Let it be from hippos till donkeys, the father will always protect it's offspring from any danger.
A mother will take the idol of caring and being nice(some) while the father will teach you about etiquette(my dad got me a book titled etiquette). A mom will be there whenever you have a problem, a father will help you overcome it.

Happy Father's Day!

My careless life.

My life is pretty embarrassing, especially if you have an awesome set of parents. My life has been through many ups and downs. And I might be able to take you through them. And yes, this is a long post. So if your interested in my life, read.

When I was young, I used to literally be a magnet to diseases and disasters. When I was hardly one, I fell of a pram and received stitches on my upper jaw. They kept telling me that I was like taking care of a fully filled cup. It was pretty hard to tame me and make me behave properly. Believe it or not, when I was in 1st Standard, I was listed as one of the most troublesome kids in the whole primary block. And I maintained that name until I moved to China - which was after 2nd standard.

I used to be a brat when I was young. I used to pull my mom's hair while she was driving, go underneath and push the pedal or play with the gearbox. Now imagine a small boy who wants a sticker book soo badly that he would donate a kidney for it(use your imagination, may not happen at all under any circumstances at that age). Ten times that and he would be equal to me (according to my relatives).

Totally, I have had 3 stitches(including the pram incident). One on them is on the left side of my lip, because when I was in LKG, I was jumping from table to table when some wise kid held onto my leg and I fell on the side of the table face first. That was painful then, I guess.
The other was when I was playing with this gate like a see-saw. It kept coming back whenever I pushed it. So one day, when I was playing with it, my mom suddenly called me. So, I turned, forgetting everything about the swinging gate which was coming back at me, just like a dog would once it fetches your ball. The gate smashed squarely above my right eyebrow. And thus, was the last of my stitches (so far).

And there was this particular thing which cracks me up every time it passes my mind.
In UKG, they used to give us clay for us to play with. It used to be fun. I used to make the roundest balls of the whole lot (and took out my spoon and knife and pretend to make dosa). And there was this day which I don't clearly remember, but I ended up in the hospital. And when I inquired my mom the reason for my presence in an unhygienic hospital room, she answers, "you have clay in your ear." I couldn't remember a thing. It was like being woken after a drunk night (PS - I'm speaking from other's experience). They doctors dozed me and did took out the clay and kept it on a tray. When I woke up, I realized that the clay piece was soo damn big that you could shape it into a small marble. When I went to school the day after, and since I had no idea what happened, I kept put the blame on my classmate, Arunachallam (the boy who couldn't spell his own name).

Since I was in China, I had always been prone to fire/hot water. The first time I got burnt was when I was in 2nd standard. I tried taking a heated bowl of rice from the microwave while it was still hot. I slipped and fell and the hot water poured right on my face and the top of my chest. It was horrible.
And then the second time was, yet again, with hot water. I was terribly sick and I had to inhale that hot water fumes. So I was sitting on a table and had a blanket over me. As I got closer to the water pot, my forehead slightly touched the top of the rim. I immediately pulled my head back, and the water pot along with it. the boiling water feel on top of my soft spot. And no, it didn't make any mark over there, but it did above it. And  I had to sing that night (yes, I was in the school choir because I had a charming voice, until puberty destroyed it).

From what I've learnt, it's that even if you make the biggest mistakes which at that point might seem like the end (unless you die), is actually isn't. It just leaves a huge mark on your skin reminding you to never do it again. You learn from your mistakes, and your injuries. Like I did. Now I will be extra careful when pulling things out the microwave and I will never jump from one table to the other.
And that's just the summary. I couldn't put all the stuff I did when I was young. But the thing I liked the most was my numeric system when I was young - one, two, thee, four, five, six, vathan, eight, nine, ten. And I swear to god that, that once was our answering machine's tone thingy.

Life is a bitch. A beautiful one.

Since the dawn of mankind, or lets say dinosaurs, the world had and has always been in a state where the most dominant takes over the least dominant. Like when the T-Rex can win a brawl against a Stegosaurus. Or how a rich person can eat a large pizza and a person suffering from poverty has to eat shrubs which are filled with sharp thorns. And just like Charles Darwin called life as the "Survival of the fittest," the worthy shall only make it good. So to become really awesome - soo awesome that not even teachers dare to speak a word against you (get the sarcasm) - all you have to do is start of big. Big in the right direction, too.

Life is like a wave, it goes back only to come back to shore again. Only this time, to come back up further. And life IS a bitch. She will act nice and one time and seem to give you the happiest day of your life. But then, the next day will probably seem to be worst day of your life. But at times she might give you some reason or the other and start boasting on the things you didn't have. And you will feel utterly depressed and you can't tell her to stop too. Its like asking a wall to make you a sandwich. You know it can't make it and you do it just for the sake of it. But she is a beautiful one because (basically because you might have a good taste in women) even though it makes you feel bad, you can't help but love it. Its like having a useless watch in your pocket and whenever you want to check the time, you keep looking at it even though it is pretty much useless.

I guess I hardly make any sense, but if we are like minded, you might be able to know what I'm trying to say.

Just saying sorry is meaningless.

Sometimes apologizing doesn't actually make the difference you hoped it would. Saying sorry after doing something wrong is like buying the ingredients for a cake for his/her birthday. It doesn't actually mean anything until you make up for it.
I personally feel that saying sorry doesn't make anything right. For me, somebody apologizing without doing making up for it is like giving me a sandwich without any filling. It basically worthless.
People can apologize for several things, like from losing a friend's rubber/eraser, losing your boss's Ferrari car keys or even sleeping with their bestfriend's girlfriend.
Imagine your bestfriend slept with your girlfriend(imagine you have a girlfriend in the first place). And you walk into them making out. You could probably feel the betrayal oozing out of your fingers. Your bestfriend might make it up to you by exchanging with his girlfriend with yours(probably a smile might creep into your face), or punch you in the face real hard, so hard that you wake up and realize it was a dream.

There will always be a point in your life where you've ruined another person's day. Or you might have not kept up the promise that you swore never to tell anybody. But if you say "Hitler promised not to invade Czechoslovakia, bro," your probably on the safe side.

There are always conflicts between two or maybe more. And sometimes just saying sorry doesn't make any difference. Just like the old woman apologized in front of some thing in Valentine's Day (FYI, I watched it for Jessica Alba and Emma Roberts and a bit for Ashton Kutcher).

Bafishy.

Never dwell on things too long. It just makes you feel worse when you lose it. 

Learn to let go when it becomes too dangerous and it might hurt you if you cling onto it too long. It's basically like a never-ending Subway sandwich. You know you'll like it when you see it. And you enjoy it once you start devouring it. But after time passes, it starts to rot and and things can get ugly. And if you start munching on the bad stuff, things can turn bad - like you have a loose bowel movement or it blasts out from the other side as fast as a garden water hose(including the smell too). It can also cause inner pain which might probably be unbearable - depending on how strong you are. 

But hey! Look at the bright side too. If you enjoy the never-ending sandwich, it might not be that bad.

I have no idea where I'm getting at, but this is entirely coming with the flow. :D

All I'm saying is... hippos can't fly.

The start of a new bud.

Hi there! This is actually my first blog so don't mind if its kind of different. People call me by different names. My family calls me Kaushik or Kuttu (yes, that is my pet name). Some of my friends call me random girly names which I don't pay attention to.  But the most prominent one, which most of my friends (and my Computer teacher) is 'Cow', since the first syllables are pronounced the same way.

I currently study in this school by the name 'The PSBB Millennium School' situated in the outskirts of Chennai.
Life in my class is pretty different. Especially when you're surrounded by a group of  birdbrains who constantly keep making you go crazy half the time. My school is pretty awesome though. It might not be air-conditioned or have supply of electricity for the full 7 hours of school, but its pretty awesome when you have got the right group of people to cheer you up when your down.
I will be moving to Dubai by the end of August. I got the information a year ago and I have been living the past year dreading that moment. I had never thought time would fly so fast. But as they say - 'Time flies when your having fun.' My mom granted me permission to study for the first term of my 9th year. She kept reminding me that it will be the last time I study in an Indian-based Syllabus. She has also advised me to have fun and not to concentrate too much on he upcoming exams which I follow.
Some people think I'm awesome, which I cannot agree more (sarcasm intended, but seriously some people really do think I'm totally awesome).
Life is pretty much awesome for me now. I just enjoy it just like I enjoy eating sandwiches. But not as awesome as sandwiches though..