Before proceeding to bestow my disparagement on the very profession of mankind that students have unanimously developed a grudge against, I wish to courteously apologize for my dormancy in the blogging circuit for the past two months. I should attribute the reason to the so-called devoted attachment towards my textbooks that I reluctantly developed for fear of being grounded for eternity, a phenomenon which I strongly believed I would never brand until it started snowing in Chennai. After all, this was a dying attempt at salvaging the dignity I had lost due to my funereal performance during my first year, which was responsible for making me lose my beloved tresses(I'm laboring to restore them back to their lost glory now!) and for awakening the critic in my father. After all if I were an embodiment of cynicism, it should be apparent that it was a hereditary characteristic trait that attained saturation in the genes which were inherited from my dear parents. But what amazes me most is their incredible capability to steer any arbitrary random topic towards my performance and utilize it to wreck my stature. Why, last month I accompanied my dad to the vegetable shop and he tells the vendor 'Oh, How I wish my son's marks were half as appreciable as these carrots!'. I mean, Carrots?? Impervious as your heart maybe, no sane mortal can digest his educational footing being compared to carrots. I could picture myself riding the mule with a garland around my neck, and the music playing in the background. Alas! All I could do was bite my lip and romp back home, cursing my luck. There began the epic journey to improve my scores, and prove my parents wrong, which is why I was in volatile hibernation for the past few months.
I was always under the assumption that a Doctorate in Philosphy would be granted to those who had atleast the barest minimum of English knowledge, but three professors today came to shed some light on my hypothesis. The first class of my fourth semester was enough to help me get a stable idea of what I should be expecting from college in my near future. I promise you, either Satan himself worked at the employment exchange and appointed such highbrows or these losers were the only scapegoats ready to travel a solid forty kilometres outside city limits to teach students as disinterested in education as we were. At 8.10 sharp, the lady walks in, does not so much as bother to even introduce herself, and starts writing things on the board in such miniscule font, my poor classmates had to strain their eyes to even comprehend a fourth of what had been scribbled there. Her reason for the same being 'Children, I write so smallly because I don't want yoo to copy anything down, but imbibe everything into yoour mind'. Bah!. She stressed on the word 'imbibe' because I think she wanted to prove she had her share of professional jargon. The next period was no better because the professor introduced himself as Prakash, with a Ph.D in some imaginary institution, and went on corroborate his theory by lecturing on plain philosophy for the next fifty minutes, during which I had to be awakened twice by my geek-lord neighbour who was taking down notes(For 'precaution' it seems!). He spoke in such hushed tones, ears the size of Jar Jar Binks wouldn't do much good in deciphering his Greek and Latin lecture. When students have a strong notion that college textbooks are the sole reason for the wood-pulp and papyrus deficiency in this part of the Earth, what makes these professors come to this blasphemous conclusion that we would browse through our lessons before sitting for our classes!
The last person in this list of prodigious academicians was a man whose name I refuse to disclose but who I am very sure would have grown to become a fantastic motivational speaker had he been a tad more proficient in the English language. He rambled on for about twenty minutes about his rise to fame, parts of which I could unravel that included his struggle for existence in a remote village somewhere in the middle of nowhere, his passion for teaching and his 'girlfriends' back at school.(He giggled when he said that). But the best part was when he said that his present position should be wholly accredited to his vast English knowledge and communicational skills. Allow me to reproduce the exact statement implemented - 'I have come here to this level, mostly because of my large English skills which you will soonly visualize, and because I never dashed into anything, but took them slowly and steadily'. For the love of God, people with such staggering English knowledge and stunning vocabulary are bound to give budding lexicographers a whole new lease of life! Oh dear Lord, I loyally beg thee not to provide forgiveness by taking a dig at my semester marks, for having taken pot-shots at my lecturers. After all you do know that criticism runs in my very veins. Oh, and if there is any surplus amount of blessings remaining, you still have that I-phone pending! Thank you!
-Supermur.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Carry On Canine!
Right from those 'Man's best friend' times to the present 'Ow! Take whatever you want but please don't hurt me!' era, dogs have unanimously established themselves as icons of evolution. They have grown to become rulers of the rayless roads, scavengers of the summer sun, perpetual stars as an embodiment of passionless procrastinating life where all that is demanding is food, sleep and scrutinised security to their area earmarked, by relentlessly barking their larynx off at other innocent four-legged trespassers. Right from my very childhood, dogs have always given me the creeps. Immaterial of their size, age and appearance, dogs have possessed this miraculous capability of terrorizing my glass-like soul, effortlessly generating goosebumps all over my skin and spontaneously sending that chill down my spine, giving me the feeling of suddenly being teleported to the North Pole and made to stand on my toes with the barest minimum of clothing to support my frail figure. Sometimes I get this Gandhian pump to fight the fright, ward off all panic and develop that aura of indifference towards those vicious hounds, yet there still exists that surplus minimum balance of fear that initiates those batteries on my legs to click to life.
Motion is the most uplifting spirit that these mangy curs could ever set their eyes on. They so appreciate motion that they find it a delighful hobby to chase anything that is on the move. Curse my luck, most of the times that 'anything' is me! I'm not striving to humour you, but pups are also spine-chillers to me. The minute I hear any female voice that might remotely resemble this statement "Awww, such darling puppies", I make sure I'm out of the picture in record time. Why, they are so intimitidating that every time I cross a litter of pups, I keep turning back to look if one has followed me, and even if I feel a slight brush on my leg it makes me flinch. Thankfully, it lands up mostly being a stone or an overgrown hedge. If I ever came face to face with a boggart, I swear to Lucifer, it would take the shape of a Scottish greyhound baring its pointed teeth, waiting to pounce on me and tear me to shreds. Brrrr!
The prime reason I should attribute this dreadful horror of mine to would be this incident during my early fourth grade. It was during those glorious pre-adolescent days when all happiness and enjoyment concentrated itself on whizzing by in my gleaming pink bicycle.(Lets face it! Am I to blame if the only cycle I happened to own was bubblegum pink in color? It paid off too. The freckled pony-tailed girl from across the road always wanted to ride it ok!). Those adrenaline packed cycle races refereed by our half-blind watchman with his wet green whistle, the petty quarrels on the finish line, exchanging cycles and comparing each others grandeur and finesse - Memories sure come flooding by. Now during one of my weekend lap practices, I happened to run over the paw of Jiggly or whatever that brown red-eyed hooligan dog was called and in a flash it had gotten up and started chasing me. I cycled fast, fast as in formula fast, trees flying by, with the gush of wind in my face pushing my eight-year old hair back, while the dog continued its heated pursuit. All of a sudden, Bang! No no not a truck, but a round smooth stone laid in the middle of the path trips me and I fall and bruise my knee. Yet it was not the physical pain that traumatised me but that lofty-tailed specimen on my very heels. But the lousy mongrel came closer and closer and eventually ran right past me into the wilderness beyond, making me wonder if I had been born retarded or if I just grew up so!
Yet, the damage had been done, and the fear factor stayed on which is why nowadays even if dogs come expecting compassion, I quietly slink away to safer enclosures and try and reduce the furious beating of my heart. I also strongly believe that Jiggly communicated details of my appearance to every other dog on Earth via some huge global canine broadcasting system, which is why every dog I see hates me or atleast appears to do so. I do understand I make funny weird punching and twisting actions at chained dogs, but that does not mean they should forego their iron-willed attachment to their beloved humans should they! I still keep my fingers crossed and wait for that one epic day when the actual bonding happens between me and a mutt. Until then, Cyonophobia will continue to haunt my sensitive soul and only time can tell.
-Supermur.
Motion is the most uplifting spirit that these mangy curs could ever set their eyes on. They so appreciate motion that they find it a delighful hobby to chase anything that is on the move. Curse my luck, most of the times that 'anything' is me! I'm not striving to humour you, but pups are also spine-chillers to me. The minute I hear any female voice that might remotely resemble this statement "Awww, such darling puppies", I make sure I'm out of the picture in record time. Why, they are so intimitidating that every time I cross a litter of pups, I keep turning back to look if one has followed me, and even if I feel a slight brush on my leg it makes me flinch. Thankfully, it lands up mostly being a stone or an overgrown hedge. If I ever came face to face with a boggart, I swear to Lucifer, it would take the shape of a Scottish greyhound baring its pointed teeth, waiting to pounce on me and tear me to shreds. Brrrr!
The prime reason I should attribute this dreadful horror of mine to would be this incident during my early fourth grade. It was during those glorious pre-adolescent days when all happiness and enjoyment concentrated itself on whizzing by in my gleaming pink bicycle.(Lets face it! Am I to blame if the only cycle I happened to own was bubblegum pink in color? It paid off too. The freckled pony-tailed girl from across the road always wanted to ride it ok!). Those adrenaline packed cycle races refereed by our half-blind watchman with his wet green whistle, the petty quarrels on the finish line, exchanging cycles and comparing each others grandeur and finesse - Memories sure come flooding by. Now during one of my weekend lap practices, I happened to run over the paw of Jiggly or whatever that brown red-eyed hooligan dog was called and in a flash it had gotten up and started chasing me. I cycled fast, fast as in formula fast, trees flying by, with the gush of wind in my face pushing my eight-year old hair back, while the dog continued its heated pursuit. All of a sudden, Bang! No no not a truck, but a round smooth stone laid in the middle of the path trips me and I fall and bruise my knee. Yet it was not the physical pain that traumatised me but that lofty-tailed specimen on my very heels. But the lousy mongrel came closer and closer and eventually ran right past me into the wilderness beyond, making me wonder if I had been born retarded or if I just grew up so!
Yet, the damage had been done, and the fear factor stayed on which is why nowadays even if dogs come expecting compassion, I quietly slink away to safer enclosures and try and reduce the furious beating of my heart. I also strongly believe that Jiggly communicated details of my appearance to every other dog on Earth via some huge global canine broadcasting system, which is why every dog I see hates me or atleast appears to do so. I do understand I make funny weird punching and twisting actions at chained dogs, but that does not mean they should forego their iron-willed attachment to their beloved humans should they! I still keep my fingers crossed and wait for that one epic day when the actual bonding happens between me and a mutt. Until then, Cyonophobia will continue to haunt my sensitive soul and only time can tell.
-Supermur.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
A 'Class' Act!
It amazes me how the theory session of a bespectacled scholarly lecturer boasting of an engineering coupled with a doctorate degree, rambling on for eternity about the-devil-knows-what to a class of retarded nincompoops at a reputed institution could be overshadowed by the monotonous incomprehensible buzz of a timorous bumblebee, that seemed to appear so stoned and inebriated, it toiled to avoid the fan blades and thus produced such life-like swerves and fakes which if showcased might make the U.S Air Force feel that they sure have plentiful to be desired. A ceremonious welcome, gracious fanfare, thunderous applauding to its impeccable maneuvers and that incredible omnipotent feeling in its miniature heart - It sure was the winger's day out, I tell you.
It makes for no rococo news, the apparent fact that engineering teachers are spotlighted for this phenomenal yet counterproductive combo - Extensive knowledge and piteous communicational skills, but this incident sure proved to be an eye-opener to blind believers like me. As long as there exist those stereotypical girl gangs that sit together and host round-table conferences about the new 'cute guys' in town, who are willing to excitedly shriek and screech to anything that has the closest resemblance to an insect, teachers around the world will continue have a reason to despise the power of nature. Insects have this inconquerable power of bringing out the diversity in a class. This one visit brought to light those unsung heroes who give their 'swish swish' swatting actions to woo the abominable female crowd, those groups of weirdos who act gallant but are internally dying of fright, those normal people who act indifferent towards the bee's flight and most importantly those flopshots who laugh at others who shriek, and yet produce an encore when faced with a similar situation.
So the next time you are caught amidst a cruciating theory session, give this a try.(Statutory Warning : Method might not produce similar results in non co-ed institutions.)
1. Get a bumblebee with a belly diameter of a minimum of one and a half inches.(That is to prevent it from entering people's ears, though I strongly oppose that theory. What on this holy Earth, makes you think that the bee would choose to explore your elongated wax infested tunnel over the refreshing outside atmosphere?)
2. When the teacher turns to make his/her graffiti on the board, gently let the bee loose.
3. Start an initial mellow scream to rejuvenate the lifeless sleeping beauties in class.
The rest is history my friends. Just watch the action!
It makes for no rococo news, the apparent fact that engineering teachers are spotlighted for this phenomenal yet counterproductive combo - Extensive knowledge and piteous communicational skills, but this incident sure proved to be an eye-opener to blind believers like me. As long as there exist those stereotypical girl gangs that sit together and host round-table conferences about the new 'cute guys' in town, who are willing to excitedly shriek and screech to anything that has the closest resemblance to an insect, teachers around the world will continue have a reason to despise the power of nature. Insects have this inconquerable power of bringing out the diversity in a class. This one visit brought to light those unsung heroes who give their 'swish swish' swatting actions to woo the abominable female crowd, those groups of weirdos who act gallant but are internally dying of fright, those normal people who act indifferent towards the bee's flight and most importantly those flopshots who laugh at others who shriek, and yet produce an encore when faced with a similar situation.
So the next time you are caught amidst a cruciating theory session, give this a try.(Statutory Warning : Method might not produce similar results in non co-ed institutions.)
1. Get a bumblebee with a belly diameter of a minimum of one and a half inches.(That is to prevent it from entering people's ears, though I strongly oppose that theory. What on this holy Earth, makes you think that the bee would choose to explore your elongated wax infested tunnel over the refreshing outside atmosphere?)
2. When the teacher turns to make his/her graffiti on the board, gently let the bee loose.
3. Start an initial mellow scream to rejuvenate the lifeless sleeping beauties in class.
The rest is history my friends. Just watch the action!
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Review : Simpsons - The Movie.
Hilarious one-liners, subtle but wry humour and an involuntary inclination towards nature's assets is all that this animated motion picture promised its viewers and it sure gives liberal measures of them, and how! Largely influenced by run-of-the-mill comedy flicks infested with over-dramatic exhibitionist schlock jocks on fast cars, making fruitless attempts at active comedy, watching something like The Simpsons makes us feel that we ought to appreciate its makers for bringing about such mellow witticism on screen. Aptly chosen to be the messiah for propagating environmental concern, Green Day sure does give the film an electric start. Though making mincemeat of poor Mr.Flanders' dignity appeared a little gross, the introduction of Homer Simpson as the cynical, indifferent and buoyant citizen brings about quite a few loud chuckles from the audience. And just when you feel that they have made a hash of the film by making Homer adopt a pig, the hilarious Spider-pig number has you in splits. Young Lisa Simpson, being the sole environmental activist makes for some serious viewing, though they should have cut down on all those indifferences shown by the citizens of Springfield, which included her mother.
Homer's attraction to burgers and the pig-crap disaster might sound a little far-fetched, but dunping it into the lake, getting into the back of the car and asking 'pig' to drive - Hilarious! The Bart-Flander bonding brings about some stirring moments, while the Alaska trip and the clap induced avalanche propel us into bouts of side-splitting laughter. Homer's ignorance to choose glue over Jetpacks, and the hands stuck on pants incident are clear indications of the maker's prowess at timely humour. The last dying attempts to dispose off the bomb and Homer's daring bike in the ring stunts were anticipated, but the bomb bouncing on the hole's circumference sure provided some edge of the seat moments to the crowd. The ultimate duel with Russ Cargill, and Homer's rollicking compliment towards Maggie prove to be highly memorable moments. Even if you happen to be wholly unconcerned about Mother Nature, the next time you drop a candy wrapper, images of Lisa Simpson holding her pamphlets in one hand and her boyfriend's hand in the other are bound to flash across your mind and try to arouse some diffidence. Altogether, if you want that bulky load off your heart, you really don't so much as bother about content, and are game for some worthy laughs over soda and popcorn, believe you me, The Simpsons is your safest refuge!
-Supermur.
Homer's attraction to burgers and the pig-crap disaster might sound a little far-fetched, but dunping it into the lake, getting into the back of the car and asking 'pig' to drive - Hilarious! The Bart-Flander bonding brings about some stirring moments, while the Alaska trip and the clap induced avalanche propel us into bouts of side-splitting laughter. Homer's ignorance to choose glue over Jetpacks, and the hands stuck on pants incident are clear indications of the maker's prowess at timely humour. The last dying attempts to dispose off the bomb and Homer's daring bike in the ring stunts were anticipated, but the bomb bouncing on the hole's circumference sure provided some edge of the seat moments to the crowd. The ultimate duel with Russ Cargill, and Homer's rollicking compliment towards Maggie prove to be highly memorable moments. Even if you happen to be wholly unconcerned about Mother Nature, the next time you drop a candy wrapper, images of Lisa Simpson holding her pamphlets in one hand and her boyfriend's hand in the other are bound to flash across your mind and try to arouse some diffidence. Altogether, if you want that bulky load off your heart, you really don't so much as bother about content, and are game for some worthy laughs over soda and popcorn, believe you me, The Simpsons is your safest refuge!
-Supermur.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
The Battle for the Tresses!...
Overcome by grief, misery and sheer sorrow, I surprisingly fumble for the keys on my keyboard as the eligy keeps resounding in my eardrums. Visions of oneself in the mirror is uplifting to most normal civilized mortals, yet today every time I look at myself in the mirror, I feel like I'm staring at Medusa and death swallowing me whole seems to be a lot more delightfully satisfactory. The change is unequivocally apparent, too prominent to warrant omission and too cruciating for my delicate soul to digest. The damage has been done, and whether striking compensation and metamorphosis to indemnify the loss will occur, only time can tell. After five and a half months of fierce war, raging battles and conversational hostilites, my parents finally persuade me, or rather horsepower me into losing my darling honeybunch tresses, my treasured possession, the love of my life, the essence of my soul, and now - Gone! Gone with the wind, gone for eternity, either swallowed by the vast emptiness of Onyx recycling plants, or manifested itself in the depths of the plastic bin outside the salon!
Ouch! It Hurt! As the sparkling aluminium scissor blades went 'snip snip' I could literally feel my heart being placed on the platter and a school of vicious piranhas feasting on it with delight, devouring them as if there were no tomorrow, thanking their lucky stars that Christmas had come early - Hallelujah! Being born into an orthodox staunch Iyengar family (And no, you ignorant dorks, Iyengars have nothing to do with Kabbalah. Why, we don't even listen to Madonna!) there are certain mandatory regulations to be upheld. But I guess luck shone in the horizon, my family were not the 'gaga' kind, whipping children with manicured fingernails and electric blue hair-streaks. Yet they were a little skeptical about my sporting eight inch strands of conditioned hair down my face while going for weekly poojas in the temple, and occasionally they raised a feeble complaint but which were drowned by my pitied pleas for its existence. Over a period of time, I guess they learnt to overpower my petitions and with my recent results being a dismal letdown, they grabbed the platinum opportunity to drop the axe. No points for guessing that I had to oblige, and here I am - with stereotype short hair which makes me look like some kind of retarded inter-galactic bounty hunter scanning the ether and being so jobless to grow staggering long hair and then mercilessly slice it off immediately thus making the efforts futile and bland. But lets face it, I liked it unkempt and messy. Well, you have complaints too? Try a wishing well, because I'd turn a deaf ear!
Life is comparison, and having witnessed the wavy slicked back hair seventeen times a day, it makes me feel so weird to stare at myself in the mirror. Even the darned comb runs through my hair so fast, it brings cherished memories that prick my already auburn oven-roasted heart! And the look on my face - No mastercard would ever fit the bill this time! Its priceless! Even the guy at the salon reciprocated my nostalgia as he humbly did his job to perfection and watched me transmogrify into a freak! Such is life people. It gives you pleasures you could drool on and suddenly takes its toll, leaving you stranded, wrecked and swamped by insignificance, making you feel wasted and spiritless, while your shouts for assistance get immobilized by your own melancholy. After this fiasco, I needed no Bodhi tree to stimulate my wisdom! My advice - Don't grow long hair when you feel you might be opposed. But if you want to, well then Fight! Fight till the very end people, because life more or less boils down to Charles Darwin - Survival of the fittest!
- Supermur...
Ouch! It Hurt! As the sparkling aluminium scissor blades went 'snip snip' I could literally feel my heart being placed on the platter and a school of vicious piranhas feasting on it with delight, devouring them as if there were no tomorrow, thanking their lucky stars that Christmas had come early - Hallelujah! Being born into an orthodox staunch Iyengar family (And no, you ignorant dorks, Iyengars have nothing to do with Kabbalah. Why, we don't even listen to Madonna!) there are certain mandatory regulations to be upheld. But I guess luck shone in the horizon, my family were not the 'gaga' kind, whipping children with manicured fingernails and electric blue hair-streaks. Yet they were a little skeptical about my sporting eight inch strands of conditioned hair down my face while going for weekly poojas in the temple, and occasionally they raised a feeble complaint but which were drowned by my pitied pleas for its existence. Over a period of time, I guess they learnt to overpower my petitions and with my recent results being a dismal letdown, they grabbed the platinum opportunity to drop the axe. No points for guessing that I had to oblige, and here I am - with stereotype short hair which makes me look like some kind of retarded inter-galactic bounty hunter scanning the ether and being so jobless to grow staggering long hair and then mercilessly slice it off immediately thus making the efforts futile and bland. But lets face it, I liked it unkempt and messy. Well, you have complaints too? Try a wishing well, because I'd turn a deaf ear!
Life is comparison, and having witnessed the wavy slicked back hair seventeen times a day, it makes me feel so weird to stare at myself in the mirror. Even the darned comb runs through my hair so fast, it brings cherished memories that prick my already auburn oven-roasted heart! And the look on my face - No mastercard would ever fit the bill this time! Its priceless! Even the guy at the salon reciprocated my nostalgia as he humbly did his job to perfection and watched me transmogrify into a freak! Such is life people. It gives you pleasures you could drool on and suddenly takes its toll, leaving you stranded, wrecked and swamped by insignificance, making you feel wasted and spiritless, while your shouts for assistance get immobilized by your own melancholy. After this fiasco, I needed no Bodhi tree to stimulate my wisdom! My advice - Don't grow long hair when you feel you might be opposed. But if you want to, well then Fight! Fight till the very end people, because life more or less boils down to Charles Darwin - Survival of the fittest!
- Supermur...
Friday, July 6, 2007
The Ultimate Choice
"It's choice--not chance--that determines your destiny."
- Jean Neditch
Words of wisdom, aptly put forth by a woman whose enlightenment can be attributed to her valiant struggle for survival.
Choices are inevitable, quintessential components of every mortal's existence, which could prominently make his destiny, dazzling or devastating, depending on the outcome. There are such moments in life, when pursuing that epic journey to paradise, after painstakingly crossing a winding stretch of road where life was highly fatiguing and laborious, we find ourselves at a fork, where all our past industry is let to hang loose by a thin delicate length of string which goes by the name 'choice'. When situations become this demanding, instead of focusing on a befitting selection, we keep brooding over the consequence of negativity and as our minds get shrouded by the mist of tension, we falter and eventually end up making an incorrect or unsuitable choice. These are the times when we should learn to boost our confidence coefficients and work to getting ourselves out of the mess unscathed. Sometimes, I feel it is wiser to go for the straightforward choice that might not boast of any attractive yield, but has lesser to lose, than go for the hazy one which you think might be vaguely productive.
Priorities are of paramount importance in this material world, where the hierarchy if flawed could lead to cataclysmic after-effects. The reason for my substantiation on this very subject is the result of a gloomy period of life generated by a series of rash decisions, inaccurate prioritizing and a deficient approach towards tackling tight situations. Choices need not necessarily be the ones faced when our dear future is placed on a precarious perch, the course of which lies in the hands of the decisions indeterminate. They could lie in the simplest of places and in the gentlest of times and yet be so taxing that they would make you wonder if pole-vaulting the Great Wall of China would have been a little more unburdensome.
Life is not always a walk in the park and those who have emerged victorious were not just proficient, skilled workaholics, but were ones who had made precise choices at approppriate stages, because after all, the ability to choose is not a blessing, but a privilege. At any point of time, whatsoever be the endeavour to be undertaken, there is always a choice and failure can definitely be eluded. If it becomes otherwise, it might only be the culmination of a previous erroneous choice that has brought the person to the edge of the cliff.
Wisdom as a germination of bitter experiences is always a prized possession that will have a lasting impact on the delicate human soul. Lessons are best learnt from one's own blunders, and it is mandatory that they find application in the near future. Ignorance is bliss is a philosophy not worth utilisation when it comes to choices. Excessive scrutiny might also lead to jeopardy at times, so it is essential that we make right choices and quick ones. Though the products they endorse might not be worth a penny, watching Telebrands does pay because it was what told me 'Choose Wisely - Live Well!!'.
- Supermur
- Jean Neditch
Words of wisdom, aptly put forth by a woman whose enlightenment can be attributed to her valiant struggle for survival.
Choices are inevitable, quintessential components of every mortal's existence, which could prominently make his destiny, dazzling or devastating, depending on the outcome. There are such moments in life, when pursuing that epic journey to paradise, after painstakingly crossing a winding stretch of road where life was highly fatiguing and laborious, we find ourselves at a fork, where all our past industry is let to hang loose by a thin delicate length of string which goes by the name 'choice'. When situations become this demanding, instead of focusing on a befitting selection, we keep brooding over the consequence of negativity and as our minds get shrouded by the mist of tension, we falter and eventually end up making an incorrect or unsuitable choice. These are the times when we should learn to boost our confidence coefficients and work to getting ourselves out of the mess unscathed. Sometimes, I feel it is wiser to go for the straightforward choice that might not boast of any attractive yield, but has lesser to lose, than go for the hazy one which you think might be vaguely productive.
Priorities are of paramount importance in this material world, where the hierarchy if flawed could lead to cataclysmic after-effects. The reason for my substantiation on this very subject is the result of a gloomy period of life generated by a series of rash decisions, inaccurate prioritizing and a deficient approach towards tackling tight situations. Choices need not necessarily be the ones faced when our dear future is placed on a precarious perch, the course of which lies in the hands of the decisions indeterminate. They could lie in the simplest of places and in the gentlest of times and yet be so taxing that they would make you wonder if pole-vaulting the Great Wall of China would have been a little more unburdensome.
Life is not always a walk in the park and those who have emerged victorious were not just proficient, skilled workaholics, but were ones who had made precise choices at approppriate stages, because after all, the ability to choose is not a blessing, but a privilege. At any point of time, whatsoever be the endeavour to be undertaken, there is always a choice and failure can definitely be eluded. If it becomes otherwise, it might only be the culmination of a previous erroneous choice that has brought the person to the edge of the cliff.
Wisdom as a germination of bitter experiences is always a prized possession that will have a lasting impact on the delicate human soul. Lessons are best learnt from one's own blunders, and it is mandatory that they find application in the near future. Ignorance is bliss is a philosophy not worth utilisation when it comes to choices. Excessive scrutiny might also lead to jeopardy at times, so it is essential that we make right choices and quick ones. Though the products they endorse might not be worth a penny, watching Telebrands does pay because it was what told me 'Choose Wisely - Live Well!!'.
- Supermur
Monday, June 18, 2007
Devil's Play - II
I have always imagined the devil to have two sharp serpentine horns, a creepy round face with a bloodcurdling vicious smile and a long pointed pike in his hand !...Unfortunately, the devil I saw in reality, had on khaki garments, a roly-poly belly, a caterpillarish moustache and just One horn, which the darned bummer kept honking like an ass!..In the other hand he managed the steering wheel, and simultaneously kept releasing smoke like a 5th century Merovingian chimney!...Lush green countryside and soothing peace and quiet would make such an outstanding combo, but unfortunately I was not blessed with much of the latter, thanks to the solidified perseverance on the driver's part to never let go of his devastating hobby...I drove my earphones so deep into my ear, they played touch-me-not with my ear drums, yet I could not make head or tail of poor Chris Martin's 'Yellow', because of the same dull, monotonous, jarring noise of the horn that was so deafening, it made me think of the landslide queue ENT doctors would have to face if people continued to use such means of transport!...Even if I tried snoozing, I got horrendous images of his face, with the devilish cackle of laughter, and of course the intolerable cacophony of his horn playing in the background!.. His theory - If there is a vehicle in front of him, he honks till they move, or he goes so close and kisses their rear bumper, they automatically move aside for fear of getting run over by the mean machine.
The remote village I had to visit, can be reached only by buses(No private travels function on these roads, so its just the government ones!).Airports are just far fetched illusions here, and an occasional plane in the skies would signify days of excitement for the kids in this village, whose prime source of entertainment is rolling rubber tires on the streets or playing goli-gundu!..It does have a railway station though, which is adorned by a lot of dry leaves and sleeping mongrels, and I don't think the people from this loserville would have seen a stationary train on its tracks since the near Mughal era!..The government buses here are a matter of admiration, with seats so upright, your backbone would resemble a Camlin ruler, and the engine so Ferrari-like smooth it would displace all other sources of sound, and evacuate the acoustics around, making it look like a perpetual sound-free zone!(Please be sane enough to realise that there's a dollop of sarcasm melting on top!..) Oh, I nearly forgot the fact that my bus was a DVD coach!...There were two miniature golf-ball sized television screens playing some rotten movie, where the hero looked like a martian with an Elvis hairdo, while the female lead's alarming face popped up only a couple of times and the rest of the scenes did not show much of the face area!... It was similar to those first generation movies where there were just pictures pasted periodically on a three mile stretch which people have to relate by themselves, formulate a plausible plot, and assimilate the movie, while sounds played in the background, because this import quality trademark brand "Panosenic" DVD player did not show scenes, it just got stuck so frequently, it made the movie look a Windows slideshow, and I did not take too much effort to check it out anyway!..
The bus would like a compact tinderbox from the outside perspective, while the insides will be a collage of weird advertisements, making it look like a life-size newspaper classifieds page!...The front windshield had "Ku-blah blah Transport Service" written in a blinding kaleidoscopic array of colours, with 'Colour DVD Coach' pasted right beneath it. This was a revelation drive for me, and I'm proud to endorse!..Bringing to you - A one time golden opportunity to ride in the palace on wheels, the carriage of comfort, the A380 on road, for just 44.50 per head(Inclusive of all taxes) to hell, and back!..If your life has taken a turn for the worst and you have chosen suicide as your alternative out of your own free will, and you are game for a painful death, they welcome you in with arms wide open!..Choose my way on the highway!...'Ku-blah blah transport service' - Live the experience!..Die Hard!...Good Luck!...
- Supermur
The remote village I had to visit, can be reached only by buses(No private travels function on these roads, so its just the government ones!).Airports are just far fetched illusions here, and an occasional plane in the skies would signify days of excitement for the kids in this village, whose prime source of entertainment is rolling rubber tires on the streets or playing goli-gundu!..It does have a railway station though, which is adorned by a lot of dry leaves and sleeping mongrels, and I don't think the people from this loserville would have seen a stationary train on its tracks since the near Mughal era!..The government buses here are a matter of admiration, with seats so upright, your backbone would resemble a Camlin ruler, and the engine so Ferrari-like smooth it would displace all other sources of sound, and evacuate the acoustics around, making it look like a perpetual sound-free zone!(Please be sane enough to realise that there's a dollop of sarcasm melting on top!..) Oh, I nearly forgot the fact that my bus was a DVD coach!...There were two miniature golf-ball sized television screens playing some rotten movie, where the hero looked like a martian with an Elvis hairdo, while the female lead's alarming face popped up only a couple of times and the rest of the scenes did not show much of the face area!... It was similar to those first generation movies where there were just pictures pasted periodically on a three mile stretch which people have to relate by themselves, formulate a plausible plot, and assimilate the movie, while sounds played in the background, because this import quality trademark brand "Panosenic" DVD player did not show scenes, it just got stuck so frequently, it made the movie look a Windows slideshow, and I did not take too much effort to check it out anyway!..
The bus would like a compact tinderbox from the outside perspective, while the insides will be a collage of weird advertisements, making it look like a life-size newspaper classifieds page!...The front windshield had "Ku-blah blah Transport Service" written in a blinding kaleidoscopic array of colours, with 'Colour DVD Coach' pasted right beneath it. This was a revelation drive for me, and I'm proud to endorse!..Bringing to you - A one time golden opportunity to ride in the palace on wheels, the carriage of comfort, the A380 on road, for just 44.50 per head(Inclusive of all taxes) to hell, and back!..If your life has taken a turn for the worst and you have chosen suicide as your alternative out of your own free will, and you are game for a painful death, they welcome you in with arms wide open!..Choose my way on the highway!...'Ku-blah blah transport service' - Live the experience!..Die Hard!...Good Luck!...
- Supermur
Friday, June 8, 2007
Band Aid!!
As usual, I should announce the real essence of my topic before you
jump to conclusions!...No! I'm not a jobless Virender Sehwag with
stunning performance coefficients shown only in Asia-Africa matches
and Reebok commercials, endorsing for Johnson and Johnson's now!
Oh wait! Wasn't that Hansa-plast?..Do I even care?...What I intended
to talk about was this perennial craze of mine to play for a band!..So,
this represents an open petition to all my readers to aid this so-called
band I'm planning to inaugurate in a short while!.. I might invite Ozzy
over to render an inaugural vocal, so don't you miss it!..
I have always fantasised the paradisiacal portrait of myself with long
hair flying around like cotton candy, guitar in hand, rocking my way to glory as girls from the audience gave out 'oohs' and 'aahs' as I plucked at the guitar strings and gave a perfect rendition of 'Musical
Magnetism'(By the way, that will be the name of my first album) with
my mesmerising rugged voice that floats through the hall enthralling
listeners into captivation!..Gee! Fantasising can be quite an entertaining pastime!..
Guilt being an integral factor of every human soul, I should accept
the fact that myself being in a band would unequivocally be a figment
of my vast imagination, the possibility of which would be so miniscule, V.R.V Singh might begin to bowl straight balls by then and
Vijayakanth might have won an Oscar!...That is solely because my
voice or my musical skills are not worth singing for any band, why not
even for so much as my servant-maid's rubberband and because the
only musical instrument that I presently own would be my 17 year old
rusty mouth-organ!...But watch out people, stargazing could hit the
walls of reality sometime, and there would be a day when I really will
play for a band, exhibit a perfect 180 in my Lamborghini Diablo VTR,
and reject Beyonce's compassionate proposal, as my pilot devotedly cleans the right wing of my lear-jet!...Until then, I'd have to motivate myself with "Dream on kiddo, reality might be only a few leagues away!..".
P.S : I wonder where this incessant grudge against the Indian Team
materialised, but I only hope Percy Sonn's image does not come haunt
me every night for this!..After all I'm not Scrooge, I'm just me!..
jump to conclusions!...No! I'm not a jobless Virender Sehwag with
stunning performance coefficients shown only in Asia-Africa matches
and Reebok commercials, endorsing for Johnson and Johnson's now!
Oh wait! Wasn't that Hansa-plast?..Do I even care?...What I intended
to talk about was this perennial craze of mine to play for a band!..So,
this represents an open petition to all my readers to aid this so-called
band I'm planning to inaugurate in a short while!.. I might invite Ozzy
over to render an inaugural vocal, so don't you miss it!..
I have always fantasised the paradisiacal portrait of myself with long
hair flying around like cotton candy, guitar in hand, rocking my way to glory as girls from the audience gave out 'oohs' and 'aahs' as I plucked at the guitar strings and gave a perfect rendition of 'Musical
Magnetism'(By the way, that will be the name of my first album) with
my mesmerising rugged voice that floats through the hall enthralling
listeners into captivation!..Gee! Fantasising can be quite an entertaining pastime!..
Guilt being an integral factor of every human soul, I should accept
the fact that myself being in a band would unequivocally be a figment
of my vast imagination, the possibility of which would be so miniscule, V.R.V Singh might begin to bowl straight balls by then and
Vijayakanth might have won an Oscar!...That is solely because my
voice or my musical skills are not worth singing for any band, why not
even for so much as my servant-maid's rubberband and because the
only musical instrument that I presently own would be my 17 year old
rusty mouth-organ!...But watch out people, stargazing could hit the
walls of reality sometime, and there would be a day when I really will
play for a band, exhibit a perfect 180 in my Lamborghini Diablo VTR,
and reject Beyonce's compassionate proposal, as my pilot devotedly cleans the right wing of my lear-jet!...Until then, I'd have to motivate myself with "Dream on kiddo, reality might be only a few leagues away!..".
P.S : I wonder where this incessant grudge against the Indian Team
materialised, but I only hope Percy Sonn's image does not come haunt
me every night for this!..After all I'm not Scrooge, I'm just me!..
- Supermur
Sunday, May 6, 2007
'Bulb Fiction' by Funtin 'Mur'antino!
The title has perfectly nothing at all to do with my post. That is just some stupid name I came up with while working out math, which I thought I would name the film, if I ever could bring together the makers of the 'Scary Movie' series and make a spoof of Quentin's original creation!
It is eerie outside. The imaginary black cat with eyes like burning embers waiting to pounce at every brahmin individual who stays up after 2 'o' clock in the night, continues to haunt me. I guess I'm hallucinating. But I simply could not delay this post any more. It had to come. Solely because the topic I'm about to discuss is a rage among today's youth and children. (And No, it isn't low waist jeans!) and because I badly needed a break from my so called hectic study schedule!..Anyway here goes!...
Disclaimer : The bearer hereby declares that by posting this blog entry he means no harm to any individual living or dead and any cynicism direct or indirect is intended to merely tickle the funny bone and any damage caused is unintentional and purely coincidental.
Though I did provide a disclaimer, for those of you who have amassed enough wealth to override my disclaimer or have renowned criminal lawyers as parents, using which/whom you wish to file a case against me and send me off packing to the Andaman Prisons, I beg for mercy!
Though the chief reason for my sudden visit to Bangalore was to have a study-friendly atmosphere, I really did not get much of it, thanks to the extremely sleep-inducing weather and to the considerate Bangalore Municipality for having built and inaugurated two new malls this year. Citing moronic reasons like having to visit the Apple Centre, to my mother, I made my way to The Forum mall. It was a tuesday and there was'nt the usual bustling crowd, and swept by the wave of boredom I slowly made my way to Landmark. Professional Window shopper that I am, I walked in and directly headed for the books section, and the first book that caught my attention was this - "What will happen in the 7th HP book, The Deathly Hallows" - A Mugglenet publication. A 282 page hardbound paperback edition it is, which the mentally retarded publishers have priced at a whopping 495 bucks!.I do understand that Harry Potter is a craze among the youth but writing a book like this is a little over the edge. I mean, Come on people, Get a life!..Curiosity getting the better of me, I picked up the book, hunted for a cozy corner, found a chair and seated myself.
This book had a contents page with a variety of predictions by millions of HPFs(I guessed Half-witted Prosaic Fools, but the index said 'Harry Potter Fans'!) with sufficient proof to substantiate on the predictions. The publishers have put up a disclaimer too stating that this has nothing to do with the works of J.K.Rowling and is solely the work of spirited HPFs!...Bah!..Believe me, the compiler must suffer from stunted brain growth because he actually knows every single word in every single page of all the previous six books! And he has painfully researched on all the plausible conclusions for the 7th book. He has also taped every single interview of J.K.R and has extensively scrutinised it for any valuable information. I really am assured that he lives at some 221B Baker street or atleast somewhere close by!..He could try working for the CCP!..Veerappan would have fallen prey ages back!..
If only he had applied the same amount of effort on his subject books, I swear he would have given most Harvard professors a run for their money. All that was pardonable, but here is the best part!..I was flipping through random pages and I stumble onto this conclusion - "Why Harry and Ginny would pair up". The proof says " Ginny is an epic name that synchronizes with 'Ginevra' which is the name of the wife of the Great King Arthur. Harry's character represents that of a successful individual like King Arthur who was victorious in all his endeavours and was an icon of bravery. This is mighty proof that Harry and Ginny will unite". For a split second I thought I would fall off my seat with laughter, clutching my tummy. I mean, this is as blasphemous as saying all Pakistan bastmen are high-profile commerce graduates because they have "CA" written on their bat stickers or something of that sort! What is with the world today?..It is a book after all. I think people have surpassed the stage of being fans of HP and have now become fanatics.
Perhaps, they would all unite and form a clan, and fight for their rights. Maybe there would be another clan, say, for the Lord of the Rings. They could fight!...There could be a battle, The Fourth World War!. LOTRF (vs) HPF!... Maybe I could be opportunistic and write a book about it. I could call it, well, " The War of the Words".. Jesus Christ!...My spontaneity is on an all time high!..Let me get a grip on myself!.
I just don't understand how a book could make this colossal an impact!..I feel HP is one of the most over-rated books in the history of fiction. HP has become an addiction now. It might eventually replace Gin and Tonic and maybe even tobacco!..You just can't say!..People might start going around to potti kadais and start asking for HP books. No, that would not be economical!...Maybe pages!...They could ask for 20 pages of one of the 7 editions at say, 20 bucks!..God help me, I sure am high!...
All this is atleast digestible, but while I walk out I see a girl, mid-teens, balancing herself on 'Liberty' stools, who was actually picking out a brand new 500 rupee note to pay for the rotten book!..I told myself that she must be either so filthy stinking rich that even her Porsche's drivers resided at the Malibu Club, or her sanity is up for auction somewhere in the Arabian midlands!...My humble apologies to those who are enraged after reading this post and are waiting to butcher me and put me up for sale under Good-Life Chicken. I cant deny the fact that I do read HP, but I only READ! ..If you are otherwise, and are willing to be a part of the epic war, please provide me with specifics. It would help me enhance the quality of my book and make it an entertaining read!..
- Supermur
It is eerie outside. The imaginary black cat with eyes like burning embers waiting to pounce at every brahmin individual who stays up after 2 'o' clock in the night, continues to haunt me. I guess I'm hallucinating. But I simply could not delay this post any more. It had to come. Solely because the topic I'm about to discuss is a rage among today's youth and children. (And No, it isn't low waist jeans!) and because I badly needed a break from my so called hectic study schedule!..Anyway here goes!...
Disclaimer : The bearer hereby declares that by posting this blog entry he means no harm to any individual living or dead and any cynicism direct or indirect is intended to merely tickle the funny bone and any damage caused is unintentional and purely coincidental.
Though I did provide a disclaimer, for those of you who have amassed enough wealth to override my disclaimer or have renowned criminal lawyers as parents, using which/whom you wish to file a case against me and send me off packing to the Andaman Prisons, I beg for mercy!
Though the chief reason for my sudden visit to Bangalore was to have a study-friendly atmosphere, I really did not get much of it, thanks to the extremely sleep-inducing weather and to the considerate Bangalore Municipality for having built and inaugurated two new malls this year. Citing moronic reasons like having to visit the Apple Centre, to my mother, I made my way to The Forum mall. It was a tuesday and there was'nt the usual bustling crowd, and swept by the wave of boredom I slowly made my way to Landmark. Professional Window shopper that I am, I walked in and directly headed for the books section, and the first book that caught my attention was this - "What will happen in the 7th HP book, The Deathly Hallows" - A Mugglenet publication. A 282 page hardbound paperback edition it is, which the mentally retarded publishers have priced at a whopping 495 bucks!.I do understand that Harry Potter is a craze among the youth but writing a book like this is a little over the edge. I mean, Come on people, Get a life!..Curiosity getting the better of me, I picked up the book, hunted for a cozy corner, found a chair and seated myself.
This book had a contents page with a variety of predictions by millions of HPFs(I guessed Half-witted Prosaic Fools, but the index said 'Harry Potter Fans'!) with sufficient proof to substantiate on the predictions. The publishers have put up a disclaimer too stating that this has nothing to do with the works of J.K.Rowling and is solely the work of spirited HPFs!...Bah!..Believe me, the compiler must suffer from stunted brain growth because he actually knows every single word in every single page of all the previous six books! And he has painfully researched on all the plausible conclusions for the 7th book. He has also taped every single interview of J.K.R and has extensively scrutinised it for any valuable information. I really am assured that he lives at some 221B Baker street or atleast somewhere close by!..He could try working for the CCP!..Veerappan would have fallen prey ages back!..
If only he had applied the same amount of effort on his subject books, I swear he would have given most Harvard professors a run for their money. All that was pardonable, but here is the best part!..I was flipping through random pages and I stumble onto this conclusion - "Why Harry and Ginny would pair up". The proof says " Ginny is an epic name that synchronizes with 'Ginevra' which is the name of the wife of the Great King Arthur. Harry's character represents that of a successful individual like King Arthur who was victorious in all his endeavours and was an icon of bravery. This is mighty proof that Harry and Ginny will unite". For a split second I thought I would fall off my seat with laughter, clutching my tummy. I mean, this is as blasphemous as saying all Pakistan bastmen are high-profile commerce graduates because they have "CA" written on their bat stickers or something of that sort! What is with the world today?..It is a book after all. I think people have surpassed the stage of being fans of HP and have now become fanatics.
Perhaps, they would all unite and form a clan, and fight for their rights. Maybe there would be another clan, say, for the Lord of the Rings. They could fight!...There could be a battle, The Fourth World War!. LOTRF (vs) HPF!... Maybe I could be opportunistic and write a book about it. I could call it, well, " The War of the Words".. Jesus Christ!...My spontaneity is on an all time high!..Let me get a grip on myself!.
I just don't understand how a book could make this colossal an impact!..I feel HP is one of the most over-rated books in the history of fiction. HP has become an addiction now. It might eventually replace Gin and Tonic and maybe even tobacco!..You just can't say!..People might start going around to potti kadais and start asking for HP books. No, that would not be economical!...Maybe pages!...They could ask for 20 pages of one of the 7 editions at say, 20 bucks!..God help me, I sure am high!...
All this is atleast digestible, but while I walk out I see a girl, mid-teens, balancing herself on 'Liberty' stools, who was actually picking out a brand new 500 rupee note to pay for the rotten book!..I told myself that she must be either so filthy stinking rich that even her Porsche's drivers resided at the Malibu Club, or her sanity is up for auction somewhere in the Arabian midlands!...My humble apologies to those who are enraged after reading this post and are waiting to butcher me and put me up for sale under Good-Life Chicken. I cant deny the fact that I do read HP, but I only READ! ..If you are otherwise, and are willing to be a part of the epic war, please provide me with specifics. It would help me enhance the quality of my book and make it an entertaining read!..
- Supermur
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
What a Blow!...
Oh for Christ's sake, No this is not another of those needless meaningless blogs about the 47 day gala Australian celebration event which I determinedly refuse to address as the 'World' Cup even if you threaten to put the U.S National Army on my very heels!..It is a sheer sin to all mankind to host such an event which would have effectively portrayed a lot more grandeur and magnificence had it just been the Australian National team parading the cricket grounds in regal and aristocratic attire waving their flag and the Cup, while cute adorable little Australian children played under-arm cricket on the Kingston pitch..! It would be a mammoth blunder if I forget to mention the plight of the Indian team, which should be immeasurably glad for having been blessed enough to travel free till the Caribbean and be merry watching the Australian Parade and eating excessively salted Masala Dosai from the Saravana Bhavan branch in eastern Barbados and try to inherit some 'rosham' from it!...Maybe they wanted to return home sooner so that they could stare wide-eyed at their television screens as the highly knowledgeable queen of cricket, Miss.Mandira Bedi sat cross-legged wearin a multi-flagged see through saree that could effortlessly generate blasphemous controversies, as she put forth intellectually sound questions like "Why does Sanath Jayasuriya's bat have a blue colour sticker on it?" to a bewildered Charu Sharma!...But I better pauperize my cynicism because the Indians are untarnished at certain aspects of the game, well atleast at batting and bowling!...Why, Mr.Virendar Sehwag is getting a lot more professional at batting his eyelids as the ball whizzes past him, knocks down the stumps, flattens them out and continues to delightfully embark on its cruise to the boundary line, as he trots back to the pavilion, glad that the ball has somehow reached the fence while he was at the crease, immaterial of whether runs were granted or not !...And the only time I happened to witness the star Mr.Irfan Pathan bowl, he got nine pins in one attempt and a perfect strike in the other!...Hats off, all you humble Indian citizens!....
Spare me a second!...Why am I trying to elaborate on the very topic that I swore not to talk about!..Well, what I intended to talk about was this emphatic accomplishment of mine - I learnt to whistle!...Gone are the days when I had to accompany my friends and watch them gleefuly whistle aloud to 'Pokkiri Pongal' and dance like the world had just been gifted to them in a lovely little cardboard box and they were intoxicated with happiness over becoming Mr.Loser Almighty, while I dormantly sat, murmuring to myself that the only things I lacked were the two ponytails on the sides of my head and a dazzling pink designer skirt!...Because I can whistle now!...(I'm jumping up and down with joy right now, and I hope you dance a jig too on my behalf, because I consider happiness to be an epidemic!)Yet it is true that I presently am striving to complete my portions for my semester exams which commence in a short while, but at times when boredom is at its peak, I tend to blow out some air, and a week back, as I blew out a puff of air, I heard a faint whistle...Not exactly a whistle, but something like a tweet!...And with a lot of sheer determination-driven vigorous practice, I blew out a shrill whistle today morning, and while I was engulfed by happiness, I could practically feel myself floating my way to cloud nine!...
Blessed be my soul, Life is Good!..I should accept the fact that mine is just the mouth whistle and not like the two-fingers-bent one, though I did attempt doing the ghetto one, landed up being futile and eventually concluding that my index finger was slightly saltier than my thumb!...My whistle might not be effectively loud enough to lead the pack of wolves, but I am pretty content that I can atleast join the bandwagon!...The determination to learn came from this embarassing incident where I went for a movie and I heard loud shrieks and deafening whistles from my right and as I turned, I found this not-so-cute-but-I-wouldn't-mind-if-you-said-hi kind of girl whistling in merriment as her neighbour, another similar girl yelled "Tommmmmmmiiieeeee"!..Terrorized by the sound, I scanned the hall as I hastily tried to recollect any established rule banning bushy-haired pomeranian dogs in cinema theatres.(For those of you who wonder how I predetermined the dog to be pomeranian, I have to tell you that such animated names are only given to those breeds!).But to my bliss, Tom Cruise walks onto the wide screen which was facing me, thus clearing all my cruciating doubts!..Though there was some temporary satisfaction, the long term embarassment factor remained!..Which is why I proudly am announcing my accomplishment now!..The joy of success is indefinite, my dear friends!...For those of you who are already maestros at the art of whistling, I take a bow!..And for the rest, I have a trademark wicked smile that I put across my face as I walk back to my untouched Chemistry text!...
Spare me a second!...Why am I trying to elaborate on the very topic that I swore not to talk about!..Well, what I intended to talk about was this emphatic accomplishment of mine - I learnt to whistle!...Gone are the days when I had to accompany my friends and watch them gleefuly whistle aloud to 'Pokkiri Pongal' and dance like the world had just been gifted to them in a lovely little cardboard box and they were intoxicated with happiness over becoming Mr.Loser Almighty, while I dormantly sat, murmuring to myself that the only things I lacked were the two ponytails on the sides of my head and a dazzling pink designer skirt!...Because I can whistle now!...(I'm jumping up and down with joy right now, and I hope you dance a jig too on my behalf, because I consider happiness to be an epidemic!)Yet it is true that I presently am striving to complete my portions for my semester exams which commence in a short while, but at times when boredom is at its peak, I tend to blow out some air, and a week back, as I blew out a puff of air, I heard a faint whistle...Not exactly a whistle, but something like a tweet!...And with a lot of sheer determination-driven vigorous practice, I blew out a shrill whistle today morning, and while I was engulfed by happiness, I could practically feel myself floating my way to cloud nine!...
Blessed be my soul, Life is Good!..I should accept the fact that mine is just the mouth whistle and not like the two-fingers-bent one, though I did attempt doing the ghetto one, landed up being futile and eventually concluding that my index finger was slightly saltier than my thumb!...My whistle might not be effectively loud enough to lead the pack of wolves, but I am pretty content that I can atleast join the bandwagon!...The determination to learn came from this embarassing incident where I went for a movie and I heard loud shrieks and deafening whistles from my right and as I turned, I found this not-so-cute-but-I-wouldn't-mind-if-you-said-hi kind of girl whistling in merriment as her neighbour, another similar girl yelled "Tommmmmmmiiieeeee"!..Terrorized by the sound, I scanned the hall as I hastily tried to recollect any established rule banning bushy-haired pomeranian dogs in cinema theatres.(For those of you who wonder how I predetermined the dog to be pomeranian, I have to tell you that such animated names are only given to those breeds!).But to my bliss, Tom Cruise walks onto the wide screen which was facing me, thus clearing all my cruciating doubts!..Though there was some temporary satisfaction, the long term embarassment factor remained!..Which is why I proudly am announcing my accomplishment now!..The joy of success is indefinite, my dear friends!...For those of you who are already maestros at the art of whistling, I take a bow!..And for the rest, I have a trademark wicked smile that I put across my face as I walk back to my untouched Chemistry text!...
Monday, April 16, 2007
Happy Birthday Supermur!...:D
It was destiny that the bearer had to catch his first glimpse of this lovely world, on this very day, 18 years ago, born to etch an eternal mark in world history, treading the paths of prominent greats like Chaplin and Einstein who had stepped foot on earth, this very same day!..
Here's wishing Supermur a joyous, sparkling and an amazing future and he wishes to utilise this opportunity to thank all those who remembered to wish him and to those who wanted to, but were engrossed in various forms of academic pursuit or were effectively intoxicated by slumber!...
Thank You!
Here's wishing Supermur a joyous, sparkling and an amazing future and he wishes to utilise this opportunity to thank all those who remembered to wish him and to those who wanted to, but were engrossed in various forms of academic pursuit or were effectively intoxicated by slumber!...
Thank You!
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Of Woes, Rows, Blows, Muttakose and those nice sweet crows!!...
“Smile, even if it's a sad smile, because sadder than a sad smile is the sadness of not knowing how to smile.”
- Anonymous
By dusk yesterday, I had come to a conclusion that God had invariably chosen to go for advance booking of the blue devils on the 14th of April 2006 for this innocent but gentle boy called Murali living somewhere in the heart of Besant Nagar!...
I had an electric start to the day, or rather a 'non-electric' start to the day, as I wake up, not to the regular chirping or cooing of the blue-winged bird whose name I still am unable to find in most encylopaedias, or to the loud but totally insignificant conversation between my mom and dad about the vegetable seller's late arrival, or to the vibration of my phone whose ringtone is perfectly inaudible, but because I was sweating like a dog, as the fan was not working due to the absence of power!...I also had only forty minutes to get ready and rush to Satyam for the screening of '300' failing which I would be flooded with phone calls and messages questioning my delay and simultaneously butchering my so called dignity!...
I rush to the wash-basin and grab my brush and I see the shelf adorned by two lovely candles givng me the effect of having a candle-light dinner with my own image which was facing me from the mirror!...Torpedoes continue to fall, as I find the geyser and the iron dormantly staring at me from their respective places!..."Plagued be thy life" said voices from the ether, as I aimlessly wandered around the house hunting for solutions. I finally get ready, fill my hunger by staring at the bread loaf and rush to the theatre at supersonic speed, smiling at yawning traffic-policemen, thanking my lucky stars that I don't live in the U.S or in Britain and return home two hours later, after having had compensation for the early morning woes by watching a decent flick, and I try to smile and Bang!...The voice speaks again!..Oh Shoot!..
A row with my mom is generally not an appreciable event as the aftermath continues to keep my day engulfed by guilt, shame and regretfulness. My mom is a good cook. She might be no Sanjay Kapoor but she surely is not the kind who makes people pray before eating!...I wonder why she made that wierd curry thing yesterday. It had a mixture of tomatoes and muttakose in pathetic proportions cut in hilarious angles.(For all those Tamilnadu immigrants and Shakespeare enthusiasts out there, 'muttakose' means cabbage!..)..I always thought it was a miracle how feuds could crop up in the most unexpected of situations and yet manage to magnify themselves to such vast proportions that they scare you out of your wits and rob you of your sleep for two full nights!...After yesterday I had no choice but to believe that it was one's own fault that quarrels materialize!...I just blurted out a perfectly needless, stupid and not-so-funny-at-all statement that made my mother defend her cooking skills and thus a verbal war popped out of thin air. I have to say that it was totally my fault that my mom had to walk around with that long face all day!....
As I work at accomplishing this gargantuan task of bringing myself out of the day's misery, I realise that as I keep getting myself out of one problem, there always arises another to substitute the former. Here's the next. I sit on my computer and do what I'm best at - Nothing!...Sometimes it is advisable that I just keep my ears and eyes inactive and try gaining some peace..But I'm either unique or plain stupid which is why I landed up being the victim of the next disaster in the sequence. I hear my sister yelling out that my college senior was singing on tv and as I run, I fail to notice that my study table is slightly moved to the left(I guess since I never studied much in the near past, the study table must have chosen to punish me by itself!....) and I bang my little finger against it.(Ouch!..It hurt!..)To add fuel to the fire, the singer landed up not being my senior at all!..
There are incidents that might be small in magnitude yet might spark a burning flame in you!...This incident was responsible for restoring my sleep, peace and happiness, though I strongly wish the boy burns in hell!...Trouser-clad boys with no slippers and no money to equip themselves with the same are always a menace...There was one such specimen who happened to be armed with a catapult and the mean machine that he is, he aims at a crow on the ground and hits it perfectly!...Bulls Eye!...Jesus!..He was so accurate, I cursed the Olympic committee for not having had this as an official game!...For a change India might have had a gold!...Oh wait!....Why am I praisin him now??!!...The boy went to pick up the bird and suddenly, out of nowhere a whole gang of crows come swooping down and stand guard for the injured. They made this unintelligible noise which was a bad combo of a shriek and a caw, but was scary enough to make the boy turn a 180 and run for dear life!...
Such is relationship!...I must be mentally retarded because I was unable to realise its importance yesterday. I walked home, struck by the hammer of wisdom and I apologised to my mother and...Oh I'm really not good at the serious talk, am I?...I must conclude by saying that it was one dramatic day and I swore that if it were ever made into a film, I should only be the director and never the protagonist!...
- Anonymous
By dusk yesterday, I had come to a conclusion that God had invariably chosen to go for advance booking of the blue devils on the 14th of April 2006 for this innocent but gentle boy called Murali living somewhere in the heart of Besant Nagar!...
I had an electric start to the day, or rather a 'non-electric' start to the day, as I wake up, not to the regular chirping or cooing of the blue-winged bird whose name I still am unable to find in most encylopaedias, or to the loud but totally insignificant conversation between my mom and dad about the vegetable seller's late arrival, or to the vibration of my phone whose ringtone is perfectly inaudible, but because I was sweating like a dog, as the fan was not working due to the absence of power!...I also had only forty minutes to get ready and rush to Satyam for the screening of '300' failing which I would be flooded with phone calls and messages questioning my delay and simultaneously butchering my so called dignity!...
I rush to the wash-basin and grab my brush and I see the shelf adorned by two lovely candles givng me the effect of having a candle-light dinner with my own image which was facing me from the mirror!...Torpedoes continue to fall, as I find the geyser and the iron dormantly staring at me from their respective places!..."Plagued be thy life" said voices from the ether, as I aimlessly wandered around the house hunting for solutions. I finally get ready, fill my hunger by staring at the bread loaf and rush to the theatre at supersonic speed, smiling at yawning traffic-policemen, thanking my lucky stars that I don't live in the U.S or in Britain and return home two hours later, after having had compensation for the early morning woes by watching a decent flick, and I try to smile and Bang!...The voice speaks again!..Oh Shoot!..
A row with my mom is generally not an appreciable event as the aftermath continues to keep my day engulfed by guilt, shame and regretfulness. My mom is a good cook. She might be no Sanjay Kapoor but she surely is not the kind who makes people pray before eating!...I wonder why she made that wierd curry thing yesterday. It had a mixture of tomatoes and muttakose in pathetic proportions cut in hilarious angles.(For all those Tamilnadu immigrants and Shakespeare enthusiasts out there, 'muttakose' means cabbage!..)..I always thought it was a miracle how feuds could crop up in the most unexpected of situations and yet manage to magnify themselves to such vast proportions that they scare you out of your wits and rob you of your sleep for two full nights!...After yesterday I had no choice but to believe that it was one's own fault that quarrels materialize!...I just blurted out a perfectly needless, stupid and not-so-funny-at-all statement that made my mother defend her cooking skills and thus a verbal war popped out of thin air. I have to say that it was totally my fault that my mom had to walk around with that long face all day!....
As I work at accomplishing this gargantuan task of bringing myself out of the day's misery, I realise that as I keep getting myself out of one problem, there always arises another to substitute the former. Here's the next. I sit on my computer and do what I'm best at - Nothing!...Sometimes it is advisable that I just keep my ears and eyes inactive and try gaining some peace..But I'm either unique or plain stupid which is why I landed up being the victim of the next disaster in the sequence. I hear my sister yelling out that my college senior was singing on tv and as I run, I fail to notice that my study table is slightly moved to the left(I guess since I never studied much in the near past, the study table must have chosen to punish me by itself!....) and I bang my little finger against it.(Ouch!..It hurt!..)To add fuel to the fire, the singer landed up not being my senior at all!..
There are incidents that might be small in magnitude yet might spark a burning flame in you!...This incident was responsible for restoring my sleep, peace and happiness, though I strongly wish the boy burns in hell!...Trouser-clad boys with no slippers and no money to equip themselves with the same are always a menace...There was one such specimen who happened to be armed with a catapult and the mean machine that he is, he aims at a crow on the ground and hits it perfectly!...Bulls Eye!...Jesus!..He was so accurate, I cursed the Olympic committee for not having had this as an official game!...For a change India might have had a gold!...Oh wait!....Why am I praisin him now??!!...The boy went to pick up the bird and suddenly, out of nowhere a whole gang of crows come swooping down and stand guard for the injured. They made this unintelligible noise which was a bad combo of a shriek and a caw, but was scary enough to make the boy turn a 180 and run for dear life!...
Such is relationship!...I must be mentally retarded because I was unable to realise its importance yesterday. I walked home, struck by the hammer of wisdom and I apologised to my mother and...Oh I'm really not good at the serious talk, am I?...I must conclude by saying that it was one dramatic day and I swore that if it were ever made into a film, I should only be the director and never the protagonist!...
Monday, March 26, 2007
Lets Get Reco(ta)rded!...
Record Work - A Herculean task which students across the world, or atleast in my college, loathe to do but are forced to do so solely because the teachers cherish pushing innocent students like us (I'm just not referring to myself!..I'm generalizing!..But any cynicism in the form of comments intended to slaughter my image are most welcome!) into Hell and laugh at our plight as we struggle to be victorious in this perfectly needless exercise!...
I would rather appreciate walking into a room filled with hot molten lava, guarded by vicious menacing canines(I totally freak out when it comes to dogs!) equipped with 1500 watt speakers playing Avril Lavigne at an ear piercing volume, but I simply can't write records!...
Statutory Warning : All this is just a figment of my vast imagination, so please do not try putting me into any of this torture!..
I just do not understand why these retarded fools (My Teachers!..) make us act like xerox machines and photostat pages and pages of crap that is already there in our manuals!...They also give us such short deadlines and we are forced to sit all night and work so that we get permission to enter the lab during our semester practicals. (Or atleast that is how they threaten us!)..
I also am clueless to why most respectable colleges employ such devils to conduct our practical classes!..A standing example would be my Electrical Engineering Lab In-charge, whose name I refuse to disclose for personal reasons!...She is such a ruthless merciless semi-barbaric tyrant female who, had she been born a hundred years earlier, would have sent Adolf Hitler himself scurrying for cover!...She effortlessly puts that I'm-the-sweetest-female-on-earth smile and captivates students into believing that she is a nice person but once you land up entering class with your records incomplete, you are done for!...She might tear your image apart with her heartless statements and massacre you in front of your class!...But the ones who laugh at you are the ones who get a better dose when their turn comes up!..:D
She is also a professional at tearing record sheets and she does it with such perfection and elegance that I always wonder if she would have previously worked at a cinema ticket counter tearing out tickets for people!...Thus we land up bunking classes and sitting and writing her records all day (Not that we would'nt bunk otherwise but even a half-witted fool would prefer munching on mysore bondas at the canteen rather than doing that slave driver's work!...)
Now she is just one among the list of countless dictators in my college though if I had to rate them, Miss know-it-all would win hands down!...I guess you would have now understood why engineering students use this trademark statement "Engineering is sooooooo tough da!!"...
Now comes the worst part...After we work like slaves and complete all our records, the lab attendants (They are pretty nice people though, but their level of partiality is gender oriented!) drive a rusted iron nail through my record!...(Now that's how they can show that the record is completed and signed it seems..A practice followed in most schools right from the 10th!)When I see it, I literally am able to feel the long pointed steel pike piercing my teenie weenie delicate little heart!...But such is fate and we are compelled to undergo this inhuman torture for the next three years!...
I'm venting out all this not to gain your sympathy, but to portray the plight of us!...There are no solutions to this problem, but feel free to put forth your views on this subject but please understand that if your views are not against this topic your probability of getting into my bad books is reasonably high!...Oh wait!..I still have not done my record index yet... So I must bid farewell!...Adios!...
I would rather appreciate walking into a room filled with hot molten lava, guarded by vicious menacing canines(I totally freak out when it comes to dogs!) equipped with 1500 watt speakers playing Avril Lavigne at an ear piercing volume, but I simply can't write records!...
Statutory Warning : All this is just a figment of my vast imagination, so please do not try putting me into any of this torture!..
I just do not understand why these retarded fools (My Teachers!..) make us act like xerox machines and photostat pages and pages of crap that is already there in our manuals!...They also give us such short deadlines and we are forced to sit all night and work so that we get permission to enter the lab during our semester practicals. (Or atleast that is how they threaten us!)..
I also am clueless to why most respectable colleges employ such devils to conduct our practical classes!..A standing example would be my Electrical Engineering Lab In-charge, whose name I refuse to disclose for personal reasons!...She is such a ruthless merciless semi-barbaric tyrant female who, had she been born a hundred years earlier, would have sent Adolf Hitler himself scurrying for cover!...She effortlessly puts that I'm-the-sweetest-female-on-earth smile and captivates students into believing that she is a nice person but once you land up entering class with your records incomplete, you are done for!...She might tear your image apart with her heartless statements and massacre you in front of your class!...But the ones who laugh at you are the ones who get a better dose when their turn comes up!..:D
She is also a professional at tearing record sheets and she does it with such perfection and elegance that I always wonder if she would have previously worked at a cinema ticket counter tearing out tickets for people!...Thus we land up bunking classes and sitting and writing her records all day (Not that we would'nt bunk otherwise but even a half-witted fool would prefer munching on mysore bondas at the canteen rather than doing that slave driver's work!...)
Now she is just one among the list of countless dictators in my college though if I had to rate them, Miss know-it-all would win hands down!...I guess you would have now understood why engineering students use this trademark statement "Engineering is sooooooo tough da!!"...
Now comes the worst part...After we work like slaves and complete all our records, the lab attendants (They are pretty nice people though, but their level of partiality is gender oriented!) drive a rusted iron nail through my record!...(Now that's how they can show that the record is completed and signed it seems..A practice followed in most schools right from the 10th!)When I see it, I literally am able to feel the long pointed steel pike piercing my teenie weenie delicate little heart!...But such is fate and we are compelled to undergo this inhuman torture for the next three years!...
I'm venting out all this not to gain your sympathy, but to portray the plight of us!...There are no solutions to this problem, but feel free to put forth your views on this subject but please understand that if your views are not against this topic your probability of getting into my bad books is reasonably high!...Oh wait!..I still have not done my record index yet... So I must bid farewell!...Adios!...
Thursday, March 22, 2007
S.L.E.E.P - Sheer-Laziness-Effortlessly-Encouraging-Procrastination!...
Slumber - A simple yet contagious syndrome affecting most students facing exam tension!...God!...If only I could write my records during my sleep, my life would be a splendid replica of paradise!....Alas!...Now my life's turning out to be a perfect catastrophe thanks to this entertaining and enlightening activity called Sleep!..
I guess books (Only the academic ones!..) have this inbuilt sleep-inducing mechanism that could by far, be a lot more superior to most excellently conjured intoxicating potions in wizarding world!....Hmph!...
Now to the procrastination part....Once sleep creeps into me, however energetic and vibrant I may be, I find all my energy sapped out of my body and I crave and long for my darling pillow and my lotus-soft mattress!...And to add fuel to the fire, my college books are like pillows themselves, and bring out captivating images of me hugging my Cathy (By the way, thats what I call my pillow...Makes it a lot more simpler to stimulate sleep!..:D)..Thus I always land up having to choose between studying while I duel my sleep or to go flatten myself out on the bed!....
No points for guessing that my option is predominantly the latter!...Which is why I land up postponing most mandatory jobs for the next day..Now this keeps happening every day until I land up standing in front of my teacher, my tasks still incomplete, my eyes scanning whether my boots are well polished, and hers, boring unto me expecting answers for her billion-dollar questions!...
I still am spiritedly hunting for that one solution that would eradicate this problem of mine..But right now I have already begun traversing my path towards dreamland and I guess I lost control over what I was typing quite some time back...My humble apologies if there are errors...
By the way, all comments, suggestions and solutions to this devastating problem are most welcome!....Im already drifting away!....Yawn!....
I guess books (Only the academic ones!..) have this inbuilt sleep-inducing mechanism that could by far, be a lot more superior to most excellently conjured intoxicating potions in wizarding world!....Hmph!...
Now to the procrastination part....Once sleep creeps into me, however energetic and vibrant I may be, I find all my energy sapped out of my body and I crave and long for my darling pillow and my lotus-soft mattress!...And to add fuel to the fire, my college books are like pillows themselves, and bring out captivating images of me hugging my Cathy (By the way, thats what I call my pillow...Makes it a lot more simpler to stimulate sleep!..:D)..Thus I always land up having to choose between studying while I duel my sleep or to go flatten myself out on the bed!....
No points for guessing that my option is predominantly the latter!...Which is why I land up postponing most mandatory jobs for the next day..Now this keeps happening every day until I land up standing in front of my teacher, my tasks still incomplete, my eyes scanning whether my boots are well polished, and hers, boring unto me expecting answers for her billion-dollar questions!...
I still am spiritedly hunting for that one solution that would eradicate this problem of mine..But right now I have already begun traversing my path towards dreamland and I guess I lost control over what I was typing quite some time back...My humble apologies if there are errors...
By the way, all comments, suggestions and solutions to this devastating problem are most welcome!....Im already drifting away!....Yawn!....
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Life - God - Success - Oh and my first Blog!..
This is supposed to be my first blog!..I thought it would be advisable if I started with the one thing that my mind is generally preoccupied with at all times...Bingo!....It is God!..well if I have to contemplate on the concept of God as such it would take me another 1600 blog entries and a lot of patience and even if I actually land up being succesful in this herculean endeavour most of us would be octogenarians and India would have won their second World Cup(or so I hope)....
Oh now back to the topic...Why did I start off with this topic?..Well as my first statement suggests I am a God-fearing person (Though I call it God-loving) and so I visited the temple as a part of my regular routine...I happen to see this girl(I saw her praying!...So chill!...I am a strong-willed person when I am in temples)..The girl was in....Conversation with God!...Standing in front of an Idol and whispering out dialogues..or rather petitions...And from my point of view it was a futile one-sided conversation(If it was one sided WHY would I call it conversation?..)..Now let me come to that!...This girl, an innocent girl that she is, whenever she saw someone observing her, she reduced her decibel level to a very hushed tone or she generally stopped...I kept observing her during my rounds (They call it 'pradakshanam'...If you aren't very much into all this, then skip the last statement) and I realised that she was pursuing her petition session with vigour.
Now what intrigued me was the result of the girl's ..ub...session as I would like to call it for now..She had this broad smile planted upon her face once she was done with that...And after her share of rounds she walked out....Now here's the turning point..The dangerous part...After few months comes the second half of this incident... my mom was on her way to a grocery shop and since I was at the peak of boredom and I fancied a walk, I tagged along with my mom...N suddenly my mom yells "Shrutieeee...."...N lo behold!...Its the girl from the temple!..My mom's like "Epdi ma exam ellam panne...Results vanthacha?"(vaguely translated as "How did you do your exams dear..have the results come out?")..And to this she replied saying she had got over 90% and was the second highest in her school....And after a small talk with the girl, my mom continues to walk...And she tells me "Epdi vangina ne therle da...Saatharnama thaan antha ponnu padippa"...Which means "I have no idea how she did so well...She is a very normal student"!.....
Now that's how the concept of God materialised in my mind and I have been all the more involved in it!...Well if it still has not struck your dumb brains, her performance is attributed to the conversation with God(refer to my 2nd paragraph if you have lost touch)...And thus I justify my topic.... Life - God - Success!...:D
Oh now back to the topic...Why did I start off with this topic?..Well as my first statement suggests I am a God-fearing person (Though I call it God-loving) and so I visited the temple as a part of my regular routine...I happen to see this girl(I saw her praying!...So chill!...I am a strong-willed person when I am in temples)..The girl was in....Conversation with God!...Standing in front of an Idol and whispering out dialogues..or rather petitions...And from my point of view it was a futile one-sided conversation(If it was one sided WHY would I call it conversation?..)..Now let me come to that!...This girl, an innocent girl that she is, whenever she saw someone observing her, she reduced her decibel level to a very hushed tone or she generally stopped...I kept observing her during my rounds (They call it 'pradakshanam'...If you aren't very much into all this, then skip the last statement) and I realised that she was pursuing her petition session with vigour.
Now what intrigued me was the result of the girl's ..ub...session as I would like to call it for now..She had this broad smile planted upon her face once she was done with that...And after her share of rounds she walked out....Now here's the turning point..The dangerous part...After few months comes the second half of this incident... my mom was on her way to a grocery shop and since I was at the peak of boredom and I fancied a walk, I tagged along with my mom...N suddenly my mom yells "Shrutieeee...."...N lo behold!...Its the girl from the temple!..My mom's like "Epdi ma exam ellam panne...Results vanthacha?"(vaguely translated as "How did you do your exams dear..have the results come out?")..And to this she replied saying she had got over 90% and was the second highest in her school....And after a small talk with the girl, my mom continues to walk...And she tells me "Epdi vangina ne therle da...Saatharnama thaan antha ponnu padippa"...Which means "I have no idea how she did so well...She is a very normal student"!.....
Now that's how the concept of God materialised in my mind and I have been all the more involved in it!...Well if it still has not struck your dumb brains, her performance is attributed to the conversation with God(refer to my 2nd paragraph if you have lost touch)...And thus I justify my topic.... Life - God - Success!...:D
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