letting the candle shine

Letting the candle shine

 

 

 

( date: 2 weeks ago)

My sister called me. She sounded very angry and frustrated. I had never heard so angry before, so I wondered what could have caused this possible outburst. It was something that had happened during the day which caused her to "burst her top" like this. I did not ask her to calm down but let her narrate everything.

The story was nothing simple, though it would have warranted stern request to calm down from her closest friends. On the face of it, the story could e simply thrown off as frustration and venting out. But there was something much deeper too it. Really deep. Through t all, I could see my reflection in it floating through the story. An image which gave me difficulty in deciding whether it belonged to her or me. It was an image with both minds fused together. The same thought, the same philosophy, the same pain in seeing that nobody wanted to make difference when the power lay in their hands, the same ache and guilt of having power but being unable to take a positive step with it… Was it I or her in the image? Was it her story or mine?

Is there a realm where minds are collective? Are there sub realms where some minds are grouped together?

It was not a story of giving up her power or authority, but one of trust and holding on to ones principles, no matter whatever it took. She could not embrace something that went against her conviction. She stood for it. She knew the responsibility given to her. She knows. She works hard. She's in the thick of things. But after having done her responsibilities, her opinion was overridden. No, this is not ego. She has accommodated it many times. But this time it is crucial. I don't think anyone in the office knows the job better than her, solely because she's at the helm of things and makes sure everything happens smoothly. So she knows everyone, deals with every one. People on top needn't know everyone. So she's given the job. I don't know why the top brass does not come out of the cocoon. My be it's security and an unwillingness to take a risk. 'Better to use the tried and tested'.

 True. Fine. But they are in the groups. Just that another person is given an opportunity to be tried and tested today.

She argued, fought and was respected for her arguments. No girl stood before the Top and argued and went away to come back. But Top knows her and has seen her and probably knows that in quite a long time, it is going to be difficult to get somebody as efficient and dedicated to the job as her. But he could be scared. He could be worried. But that does not let her compromise her principles. She stands for them. Even when she thinks she's alone. She's strong and she's grown stronger in the past year.

I don't know if she knows, but it's amazing how I see myself in her many times. And I love her. Not because I see myself in her, but because she is a woman of substance. There is hardly any of her kind when I pass through life's roads. And I respect her for that, love her for that. Stand strong, lady. As long as I can, I'll be around. God bless you, my sister.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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To take a stand and keep your back straight.

I heard a story of indecent behaviour. It was a a continuation of the same story of which one of my friends had to say. A disastrous shameless tale of exploitation. And when it comes to men of God, they're featuring in the news more and more today. I hope this one teaches them a lesson.

"Men of God" should not touch a woman with wrong intentions. I don't care what their take is, but it is wrong and it is shameless when they continue to do it over the years.
Many stories, or may be all of them have been swept under the carpet. I hope this one doesn not and that proper action will be taken. It needs to be taken.
Women's voices should be heard ut loud - to bring out the hyppocricy, ofthe men behind excellence and Service.

I support you women and am planning to do something about it.

The restructuring

In the attempt to give a new look to my blog, I forgot to save my pals' links to their blogs. I've been working on this blog like that from the time my blog got its new Pyjamas.
Today I sat, tracked down and added all my favourite blog addresses. I had felt out of touch.
Today I feel more complete than yesterday.
Keep in touch guys.

Agreeing with Shaggy

Being in a class full of girls and just another boy besides me wasn't the tough job which I thought it to be. The semester was a lot of fun, though I miss being with a couple of guys and doing boys kinda stuff.
But 'em girls can put a smile on your face, you know. They're all very funny people.

It was study hols preceding the sem exams and noone from class had messaged me in a long time after the practical exams. 'That's why you need to have boys in class so that you could keep calling or get calls', I said to my self. I also suspected that everyone was deeply immersed in their photocopies of the exam portions that no one had time to even care for a boy in class. The other guy, the Holy father, at the end of the week texted me and I became very happy. He was sharing the same fate as me and was in, perhaps, a situtation worse compared to mine.

Then I came to college one day and met many of my class mates. Some of the reactions (to me and amongst themselves, loudly)
"Why are you looking so tensed? Don't worry..."
"Poor thing he's lost so much weight, what happened to you ?"
"I think it's because he shaved of his French beard, he's looking weaker."
"No, I think he looks nice with the clean face."
"How can he lose weight? He's already under weight. He can't lose anymore."

One of my juniors to whom I was talking, heard this and gave me a look which said, "Now I know what happens in class."

I was very amused. Found it very funny that they noticed and talked about my weight. Did they actually care about all this? It felt very nice. That morning one of the mates called from Chennai saying that she was forgetting everything she'd learnt and whether I displayed the same symptoms (Exam induced Amnesia, I suspect).

Women. I really find it difficult to understand them. Still a mystery.

Into the skin of sports

It was such a joy to have gone on a pinic last week. It had been ages since I had gone for one and felt it was a welcome break. Youth from church is an awesome bunch to go with. We played a variety of sports from morning till lunch and a for a while in the afternoon.

One of the things that struck me most was the commitment and enthusiasm Mary (her beautiful name changed here) showed towards the sports that we were playing. While many girls did play and worked hard to win points to their respective teams, Mary was all out there, yelling, screaming, asking for passes, running endlessly, passing on tactics to team mates, falling down and getting back up... she was in the thick of it. A true sports person. I had not seen someone like that in a long while. Some one, who would at that age be so active and give her best in to the sport. It was a joy to watch her play. Never giving up, never showing her tiny bruises to anyone and crying for sympathy...no. Mary was just playing her game. She further brightened my already lit up day.

When she fiinished a match of Koko, I called her and gave her a hug and said, 'Keep it up; it's a joy to watch you play.' She smiled and went off to drink water.
It was Mary. A girl who challenged every stereotype about how a girl should be while playing sports. A girl who didn't think that she had to be quiet and in the sides of a game, in which a lot of boys were roughing it out. She fought. Fought like a woman, with dignity and courage and never kept quite.She pushed, thugged, perspired and played her game, very fairly. The best part is that she never cared who the opponent was. She was a player, and she played and never cared who came her way.

Thank you for inspiring me.

For the fire foxes who love music

http://www.foxytunes.com/

Gasping till you breathe

No time. Not time to study. No time to read books. No time to enjoy the breeze. No time to read the Bible and Our Daily Bread. Not time to pray, or too tired to, by the end of the day. Not time to read editorials. No time for a movie (1 hour 40 minutes is too long to waste). Just enough time to sleep but still sleepy. No time to sit on facebook. No time for chatting. No time to surf the net. No free time but only practicals records to complete. No time to Xerox notes. No time to read computer magazines. No time read current affairs. No time to draw, no time to sketch. No time to read comic books. Interesting articles pending, piled up ion my bed. No time to clean the room .Tired. When do I relax. Am I relaxing too much. No time for social service. No time to go stitch my suit. No time to complete a book. No patience. In the middle of that comes a free hour. teacher absent.

Don't know what to do. I waste time.
I can't complete my work. I hardly make it on time to class. I'm tired of travelling by bus. I hate those stares and whispers when I jump the wall to the resdidential complex, an easier route to the bus stop. I hate the extra time that travelling by bus takes; and all those stamping of dirty shoes on my newly pressed trousers. No time to completely give to church. No time to email. No time to speak on the phone because its taking the time belonging to something else. No time and I am not gasping for breath. Because I don't know what to do when free time suddenly appears in front of you.

Life. I am confused.

Pasta and White sauce

The other day, my friend from class offered me a bit if Pasta which she proudly said she had made. It was covered in White sauce, which she had, again, made herself (I asked her that because I was curious). It was simply delicious and I really loved it. Knowing that she is a very nice girl, I asked her to make some for me and bring it one day for lunch. She sweetly agreed. But a thought struck me. I was very impressed at her cooking skills. She's my age and already knows how to make stuff like this. "Where am I?", I thought to myself. Do I know to make anything like that? Where did she learn it from? Some days back I could hear a couple of girls in my class express how they loved baking cakes. I just don't know what proportion of sugar and butter to use, how much baking powder, what the heat should be, etc. When did they learn all this?

I am certainly not jealous. I truly appreciate stuff like this, even if the cooking went a bit bad. Just the fact that they were able to make something makes me happy too.

Just that... when will I ever learn all this? Simple things like baking a cake, stiching buttons on my own shirt, making some white sauce, being really good at something...?
It is kind of agonising when you realise time is flying past and that it is a short life and if you didn't have time till now, perhaps you never will.

In the meanwhile, I shall look forward to eating some more of Pasta and white sauce which she will bring me for lunch.

Praxis

Praxis

Welcome folks. The librarian, perhaps, led you here.
Its alright. The librarian led me here, too.

Congratulating the Praxis team for bringing out yet another edition of tireless effort in printed form. Keep the spirit up. Never give in.

If it's not power, then use print, or just words. And no one can stop us. (Guess I borrowed the last line from a movie)

If you want to read more on stuff like the "Librarian of the library of liberty", just press the label under this post and you will see the magazine which was never published on paper.

Cheers!

If you can't shut up, just don't.

D-Blackout

What we performed as a class when we submitted the assignment on theatre: "Black out"
Themes: the pressure felt by students, and alcohol induced abuse in families.
Borrowed Idea and rhythm from the song "this is why I'm hot" by MIMS

This is Why I Blackout
This is Why I Blackout
This is Why I Blackout
This is why, This is why,
This is Why I Blackout

I Blackout 'coz i'm tired
You don't 'coz you're not
This is why, This is why,
This is Why I Blackout

I blackout inmy class
I blackout right at home
I blackout 'coz I'm always strictly
Following the norms
I'mnot black but I'm out
And I really wanna shout
This is why, This is why,
This is Why I Blackout

A quarter and some wine]
Makes me perfectly fine
My image is restored
And I don't care who is cryin'
My family drives me crazy
When I sit down to dine
This is why, This is why,
This is Why I Blackout

(This is why I blackout....)
----------------------------------
Surpisingly and coincidentally, the producers of this song is called 'The Blackout movement"!

details in life

It is just unbelieveable, or rather unexpected when little things in life give you that feeling of calmness, peace and genuine happiness. Sometimes, when they come across, you feel that you have been wasting away your life, by not taking time to enjoy those little details. You have been in a hurry all the time. One thing after the other. Thinking too much.
Worried.
If not worried, then planning the next thing, then not being able to fulfill it.
 Perhaps one should slow down. Certainly, one must do what one must, like carrying out responsibilities; at the same time MAKE time to do something simple. smily simple. Like a couple of people, who really got me thinking by what they did.

One evening I quickly popped in to my friends place on the way to a computer shop with him. His sisters told me about how they'd finished reading  the latest Harry Potter novel . The day they got it through post, they sat togethr and finished it at one go. The way they described it was what made me thinking of enjoying life. "You finished that many pages in a go? " I asked in amazement. " Yes!" they nodded. I asked them how. 'We sat together on the bed and read it together, keeping the book in the middle. We started at 3 pm in the afternoon and finished it next morning at 7 am!" , they giggled. Both of them are doing their MBA's and have a lot to sudy. they also work part time. And tey still managed to do find sometime to enjoy. Of course, it was a saturday and Sunday, but they made time.

Today, I was talking to one of my good friends whom I'd spotted walking with another friend, in the sun. I was talking to a teacher along with my friends whenI spotted them pass by. That afternoon, I asked her where they had been jay-walking in the college campus in the scorching heat. " We went to talk to the geese", she said. There were geese in the farther end of our campus. And she and the other friend had gone to talk to them. I didn't know what talking meant, but it struck me. They took time to just enjoy standing by the geese as, I found out later, they sometimes do. I wouldn't think of doing anything extra liek that during a lunch break I would be busy running around doing something or the other, or just sitting in one place and "relaxing" with the others around. And today, when I saw it, I wondered whether I had lived life to the max, so far.

I need to slow down, and take life easy. Do things when I have to, and enjoy when I can.

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Technology, distance and copy writing

Yesterday, I cam to fully appreciate the technology available to wannabe computer geeks like me.

My friend in a distant country contacted me through her friend saying that she needed a bit of help and that I ought to go online. That was an sms/text message.Thankfully, I was in a camp with a laptop which belonged to the organisation which was hosting the camp. This laptop had a net card enabling the users to use internet on the go. Perfect!
And I agreed to go.

When I met her online, a few minutes from then, she told me that she'd got a job in a company which demanded her to write advertorials! I became very proud of her. She struggled in the beginning with speaking and using colloquial English, while studying here in Inida. In three years, she became a pro. (That's a very inspiring story -never give up and work it off). she wanted me to check the editorial, edit it and suggest changes. No, I am not a preofessional copy writer but I'd some sense of it. I was humbled and accepted to help her. So online, s we chatted through windows messenger, she sent me the file containing her advertorial tvia email and I checked it and asked her question - What did you intend by this line? Who is the target audience? Where is it being put up? - All i real time. She sitting far away but both of us working and editting the same document and making changes real time. I know that technology enabled us to do this long ago, but then something as marvellous as this is a first for me. And I'm glad that I was of some help to that great friend.

From the back end of the book

This is what I wrote at the back end.

The back-end of the book is where I start from
That is because I am too shy, too embarrassed
To say, to show that this is me.
The words I wrote lie in the bin
The songs I write don't see day-light
Goals and expectations were never met
Till today, this soul remains mediocre.
Is it not too late? Or is it worth a try?
Why at all, if everything so far is a failure?
No progress, no sign, no silver lining;
Tunnels, long dark tunnels, as long as what seems eternity.
Here I sing, true to my grey feelings
The ones that always remained in the
shadows. Or is it?

Truth coming out

May be it is the effect of studying how thories of personality were constructed. I have begun to examine my personality more carefully. I have not stepped in to the unconscious yet, but it will happen soon... when I have loads of free time.

But one thing that have decided is to be true to myself. True to my thoughts, true to my feelings, true to what I really am. Remembering a story I read last year as part of the Literature course - A Kitchen in the Corner of the House. What am I when I strip myself off my friends, family, guitar, religion, balding head and the sometimes-confused looks and what others say? What is me? I have not dared to look at it that way, may be because it is a waste of time (At least that's what I thought).

From that totally stripped self, I wrote a piece of a poem in a book. A week later, I read it again and liked it - and that surprised me. Usually, I don't like what I write. But this time there was sense of calm and genuineness. (No, always I did write genuinely about my aspirations and feelings. But this one went deeper in just a few lines).

Let me be true. Let me go deeper and see who I am, within this skin. Let me meet me there. If Me is scared, let me go shake his hand, pat his back and say " What are you afraid of? Haven't you come this far? Isn't the one who brought you this far capable of taking you further? " A question easier to ask than answer.

Let me see.

BLACKOUT

BLACKOUT

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14th June

What an amazing sense of calm. The mind is moving slowly. The temperature at a comfortable level. Its night and I'm leaving all the limitations time has been imposing on me. Absense of friends. Absense of a class. Absense of togetherness. Alone in this room, which has been my shelter for the past two years. Coincidently, today it has become two whole years. Thank God. Grace and mercy has been showered upon me, which makes me forget all the hardships I had to go through. Leaving it all behind. Today's the previous day before the new chapter of my life begins. Today I leave the bachelors course and all the memories attached to it behind. Its no longer reality. It has become an album. The past. History. Something that will be visited. Something personal,at the same time impersonal. I sit. Amazingly, I dont feel bad. I'm surprised at myself. The atmosphere is comfortably 'blind' that even surprise into a non-exciting feeling. A calm acceptance, but not passiveness. Yesterday, another page in the book of my life has been turned. I think I helped pushing the page and turning it in order to get to the new page. I see a table of contents. But it isn't everything. So many things hidden in between the various sections. Let them come. I'll accept them. Go through it. And I'm sure this time, I'll go through the pages thoroughly. 

By li'l sis

 

Funny how things which hurt you the most, teach you the greatest lesson in life. And you want to forget it but because of that learning, you remember it always.

Karan, Coffee, Gere and China

 

When will Indians stop nodding their heads to everything an American says or does without even thinking of what the context is and the implications are, besides making a fool of himself?

All Richard Gere had to say day before yesterday in Coffee with Karan, the celebrity talk show by film director Karan Johar, was unfortunately or fortunately, critique on the Chinese stand on the Tibet and their hard heartedness.

Granted: What is happening is most probably true. Many are suffering, that way under the Chinese. But when he says that India is a happening place today (which he feels for the first time in his relationship with India for 30 years and adds that if India also helped raise the education levels, and uplift the poor, it would become a greater culture especially in South Asia and certainly better than China and stay so for the next 200-300 years(??) To that Karan Johar replies, with a smile of gratitude, "We hope so". We hope so? Who? So when did Richard Gere become a culture evaluator? By what scale is he measuring the greatness of Indian Culture? And what makes us better than China? How can we even compare both countries in matter other than GDP growth? And why in the world does Karan Johar have to pay faithful doggie who is glad to have a bone thrown his way by his owners' friend? So does he believe that India will become better than China, if Richard Gere says so? And who is 'we'? The Bollywood heroes? How many of them can name ten Chinese cities? How many of them can openly speak against the atrocities done by Government in Nandigram? They can't.

But when Mr. Gere blames China and thinks if we can eradicate poverty, we could become a great culture in South Asia – he can nod his head in appreciation of the generous words spoken by an actor from a country who bombarded and mutilated a country and continues to do so, for a reason, which they are still trying to figure – no reason. I'm talking about Iraq. Certainly, American culture, must be "the way" or it atleast  seems that way in Bollywood movies with fresh numbers of "wanna - be" styles being shown, as if typical India had all that.

Atleast in the future, prominent talk show hosts should not endorse the opinions of foreign celebrities, without realizing the ass he would be making of himself, because it is something deeply political, the seriousness of which, in that moment of excitement of having a Hollywood celebrity on the show, may not be fathomed and be misplaced. I don't want to be racist but Mr. Gere is entitled to his opinion, the problem I have is with Indian's   who think that they have to endorse all that they say.

Endnote:  Atleast the foreigners can say what they want o Indian TV and get away with it. Freedom of speech for an Indian and a foreigner. Not in many countries, I must observe "certainly not in China".

 

Within the curtains of the room, lies my mind.

Rain? Where? Yet to reach here. After the afternoon nap feeling weird. I'm
emotional. Switched off the cell for some time and went for a walk to the
main road. Deviated mind for some time. Trying yet again, reading
'Fly away Peter'. It made me forget the dry heat of my room and pulled me
into another set of emotions which kept changing with the chapters. Finally,the pages ran outof letters. And I sit still. Slowly fading into the real world, but into a different mindset, the meanng of which I am still trying to understand.

AUTOMONEY

a u t o m o n e y

for those who did not say much

Welcome to the the e - magazine which failed being pulished as a magazine-in-print, in one of the Colleges in this world. An attempt at raising concerns, in a strong but light hearted manner.

If you have anything to say, do comment or mail in the address given below. If we see that there's a little 'less' embarrassing response, then, we would love to continue its publication online. Don't embarrass me! Send 'em in. Good luck and happy reading. Do comment on the posts and spread the word around.

Warm regards,
Editor.

READ DOWNWARDS.

All entries with the label 'automoney: the e-magazine' are part of the same. The easiest way to find all the articles together is to press on the label link below, instead of searching around.

All the best.

Editorially challenged

Editorially challenged

We all need autonomy- sorry- automoney. This is because we need to depend on autos at some point of time in life. By paying money for the auto-ride(i.e. automoney), we achieve mobility in life and are able to reach our destination, quite quickly.
Automoney is an ordinary man’s life-saver. When one wants to reach somewhere and is already late, this money comes in handy to get you to the place you want to, on time. It is the common man’s refuge when the distance is short.

Although the money you pay for your travel is fixed, often they vary from auto to auto and driver to driver. Automoney is different things to different people. What it can symbolise or mean to a diverse student population like ours is beyond imagination.
For example, enough autonomy automoney can help the driver add sophisticated devices to his vehicle so that his vehicle is looked up to by other auto-drivers as The auto having achieved a particular standard, so to speak. With automoney, he can install a flat screen TV for entertainment, hidden cameras in all corners for security reasons and even special speakers to listen to Radio Rag-Thug broadcasts. A patient wait can enable him to buy yet another auto and expand his services.
Automoney also signifies power. Because of it we find, at times, auto-drivers more powerful and dominating than we expect. In times as those, when we have no other go but succumb to take an auto instead of public transport, they demand more money, leaving only the identity cards in our wallets and purses. After 9:30 pm, they demand higher rates, without the least compassion towards our money bags. Poor layman is forced to pay, as he would have to get somewhere, urgently. What a pity!
All auto-drivers are not that greedy and fierce. Some are kind. For this kind, it is not just the auto money that matters, but whether he/she was able to get the passenger safely to his/her destination, without inconveniences. At times, he might even begin a jolly little chat ending up cementing a friendship with the passenger. Such drivers are unforgettable.
Finally, we should always remember that the power is not always with the auto-driver alone. The passenger has a voice. The more the passengers, the louder the voice. Automoney is meant to amplify the voices of the students and help each other reach their destinations through co-operation and giving each other company, as the journey could be rough. It is about using the automoney you have and making the best use of it. It is certainly not an easy task, but definitely possible. Join us for an autoride.

Health Watch - Ask the doctor

-HEALTH WATCH-

Ask the Doctor.

Through this column, Automoney provides you the rare opportunity to solve your health issues in consultation with one of the best doctors in Bangalore, Dr. Chandamoney.


From :Dinky Lullu John,19

Dear Doctor, I have been an asthma patient for the past 11 years. Every night around 1:00 am, I start coughing continuously on and on for so long, till around 1:02 am. When I cough my back starts aching and I feel as though my head is spinning in right angles. When my head spins I drink water and go and lie down on the couch in the front room. Then suddenly I become alright. I have a history of chicken pox, malaria and a short stint of Jaundice which stayed for only 9 months. I haven’t had any relapses yet. My previous doctor told me that I had chances of getting cystic fibrosis on my right biceps and need to stop consuming cheese grill sandwiches from the cafeteria. Tell me what to do doctor… What medicine do I take?

Dr. Chandamoney: Crocin.

Miles to go before that slip…

-GUEST ARTICLE-

Miles to go before that slip…
The story of a student’s race towards the slip before slipping out of the system

I woke up to the rooster crowing to its delight… from the gutturals of my mobile (I call it the natures call). Today is not a normal day; at least not for me. Today is the day I beat the SYSTEM… the day the good will seal its victory over evil and the world will be rid of its shackles of darkness… In short… today, I shall reach class before that attendance slip goes away! Well, this is not something to laugh over; not if you experience this where you are studying.

So, all ready for the battle for attendance, suddenly I drift off to that dreaded first day when I was told that every class of every subject could gain me 5 marks at the end if the semesters, making me grin from ear to ear.

5 marks! Just like that, by attending all the classes! How simple! I laugh off that episode in my memory as I have no time to waste because there are… miles to go before I sleep, or in my case, miles to go before that slip.

But, as I get out, I realise that this journey was not going to be easy. I face failure after failure. First: There are no auto-rickshaws ready to take me to college (I wonder where they expect to take you - North Pole is what I am guessing). When I finally manage to get one, the traffic is extremely smooth flowing!
As I celebrate, having reached, within me, I see the guard at the gate asking someone for the ID card. “Huh, Old trick mister!” I boldly tell myself. I quickly dig into my bag for the ID card and triumphantly flash it at him.

First attempt.
Result: Empty hand.

Second attempt.
Result: I’m sweating blood now. I look at the watch. There’s precisely two minutes and eleven seconds before the slip escapes. I stood there stupefied but not ready to accept defeat. I can see the security guard walk over to me in slow motion. I decide it’s time to use the best weapon that was sure to flip him off his mind. I prayed to the almighty and launched attack: I start crying for all my worth, though it sounds more like laughing, it works! I rush, run, and jump hurdles… (dupattas that are pulled over anything defines that you are just within the dress code). I look at the watch again. 17 seconds- may be I can just make it…

I wake up to the rooster crowing to its delight from the gutturals of my own mobile. I look at the time… GOOD LORD! It’s past 8:30! Looks like it is yet another battle against time today.

For those interested in knowing what happened with me that day: I reach fifteen minutes late. All the heaving and panting didn’t really help as I had just missed the slip. I was greeted with even better news: “From tomorrow no student is going to be allowed in their class or respective block after the bell”, or something to that effect, is what I caught of what the teacher said. I already seemed to be drifting back to that battle ground trying to plan strategies to beat the system. Oh if it just weren’t for that slip…

PS: Marketing forecast in this particular institution: Sales in the kiosk and the food court will rise by over 300% with the new law coming into effect.

Sujithra Gopalakrishnan

(Special thanks to Suji for believeing in our dream - editors)

The breeze of slumber.

The breeze of slumber.
The struggle, of a student to sit up in class, on a breezy afternoon after a heavy lunch, often goes un-noticed and down played. A tribute to those who struggle in this way.

One bright afternoon,
The temperature slowly rising;
And then remaining steady;
But the going up again…
Oh, let’s forget the climate
And ponder upon this herd
Of disinterested, unfocussed,
Bunch of humans calling themselves,
Students.
Ah! The breeze is lovely
And the time apt,
To blink one eye and then the other,
And then leave them closed
Until either the sweet chime
Of the old bell is heard,
Or by misfortune to be
Caught by ear by the
More learned being addressed as,
Teacher.
And there comes the topic
“How to conduct an interview”:
An activity carried out between
Two or more people.
But today, as I see,
This is no interview
But a teacher talking all alone
And listened to by few.
Woe! Be to this afternoon
As my eyes shut
Like heavy iron doors.
Caffeine tried to help me,
To help me help myself
From the embracing goodness
Of a sweet afternoon slumber.
O Learned being! Thou speaketh
So boldly but knowest not
How peaceful, our slumber is!
Non-stop is thine speech,
Pausing at intervals, to examine
How many have switched off,
And how many are
The batteries that are low!
How I wish those heavy iron doors
Would stay up at least
To appear respectful!
But nay, I am helpless!
To the forces of sight-
These heavy eyelids.
Oh my mind, vow that you will
Stay awake at least in the next hour,
Or else give in peacefully
To the breeze of slumber.

Wishful thinking.

Wishful thinking.

This column features certain dreams which the editors have, but know for sure that they wouldn’t materialise until a cow jumped over the moon. Sigh…

How we wish that…
1…all politicians knew how to read and write.
2…the media department had at least one window, so that our gurus could breathe.
3…CIA meant: Custard Instead of Assignments, in the place of the present full form, Continuously Irritating Assignments.
4…Mr. Chinnappa and gang’s (the guys who collect attendance slips) work hours were 1pm - 2pm.
5…there were no/less cockroaches in the Aloo (potato) buns the next time we were hungry.

the editorial team

a u to m o n e y

Published by:
Chief Editor


Any more people willing to hold any Chief position in this publication, kindly contact us at the email address given below. You could also stay away from such positions, if you wish, and contribute by sending us articles, poems, creative ideas, thoughts, emails and loads of criticism. We would like to hear what you think about Automoney and help us bring out a better edition the next time around, if we are not expelled by then.
Special thanks to those souls who risked their lives by contributing to Automoney.
Let students have their voice!

READ FURTHER

The Food Re-view Column

The Food Re-view Column
By famous foodie Jacquelin Janakiamma

[Caution: The names of the items reviewed in this column may not have any connection at all with the real product.]

Item: Georgia Cold Coffee (machine ones)
Location of availability: Kiosk

Beautiful packaging. Looks good. Tastes…Uh…there are not any taste buds left after drinking it and let’s not talk about the smell. Jancy suspects a loose motion in the coffee machine, which produces this mysterious fluid which is packaged in plastic. The funny part is that this sewage is actually priced! That too an astronomical sum of 15 rupees. Jancy wonders why coffee lovers are not up in arms yet for calling it coffee. She also suggests labelling the drink (the term ‘drink’ here is again disputable), ‘Blended Coffee powder accidentally spilt over spoilt milk in a hurry’, or something. Jancy urges the sellers to stop deceiving students in the name of coffee, that too cold. Or else she will call the Bangalore Food Inspector, which also happens to be her husband.

Activity Centre

Activity Centre

This column provides brings you the latest social trends in the society and helps you stay occupied when you don’t have much to do.

How to start a riot

Riots are a rage today. They help you get yourself on the front page of the newspapers and on redundant videos on deprived 24 hour news channels. The best part is neither do you need to be intelligent nor do you need much experience in the field, to start one. Just begin it and things will take its own course. Automoney tells you how to start your own riot.

Problem : To start a riot with available resources.

Hypothesis: ‘Any Tom, Dick or Harry can start a riot for any silly reason without much difficulty’.

Materials needed: a couple of stones, cricket/hockey bat, visible glass windows, a bike and some nut-cases.

Precaution/ Requirements: Find / make / search / for a friend whose Daddy or uncle has very high political clout. You will be invincible with a pal like him as long as his Daddy’s party is in power.

Procedure: Any of the following methods could be employed.

• Throw a stone at a place of worship belonging to any religion and yell out “Bharat Mata Ki…”
• If you have an extra stone, throw one at a policeman standing in an open area. When the he comes at you, the people around will take care of the rest.
• Carry a filled gas stove on a train, by mistake. Light the burner. Leave it in the train toilet and escape. The rest will take its own course. This one will spread around the state and, may be, further within no time.
• If you like a particular Indian language, find people with similar interests; form a group and speak provocatively in public. Make sure you tell that your language is superior and all other languages are as useless as Sanskrit or Latin.
  
  Since you have classes now, there are activities which you can try out during your summer vacation. Just make sure there is a bike somewhere nearby so that you can light the lamp for the riot and go home.

End note:

If you are still alive, we can have the analysis of results and may be a discussion.

The librarian of the Library of Liberty.

To stretch a short story long

The librarian of the Library of Liberty.
Based on a true story of a library-loving student


Once upon a time there was a library. Like all libraries which had a lot of unwanted books, this one too had a human-in-charge called a librarian. His job was to…Uh… actually, only he knew what he was doing there, because all those who sat in the Library of Liberty were busy sleeping, or else messaging their sweet hearts. Huge boards carrying jokes like ‘Maintain silence’ and ‘Do not use cell phones inside’ hung about in strategic locations in here, just like the Hutch ad hoardings outside. Remarkably, the students put an effort at following the former but were often caught disobeying the latter (“My hand feels empty without my phone”, as one shared with this author). Now, a noticeable quality of the librarian was that he had an eye for cell phones and caught keypad-happy users and reproached them loudly. I mean LOUDLY. Students who sat around watching this reality show, found this very frustrating, as the urge to restrain oneself to maintain silence was a trying task, which usually caused much fatigue.

Now what used to happen almost every single day was that, the student suffering a loss of his cell phone, as well as his dignity, would stand near the librarian’s desk (some one said that it was custom made for this purpose), awaiting the pleasantries that barged forth from the dutiful man of stacked books. At that time, a loud ring sounding like a phone from the 50’s would shake the whole library. Even the assistant librarian (Yes, there was one of them too), who kept her phone on silent mode would suffer temporary stoppage of her heart beat due to the suddenness of this phenomenon. Things would get worse as the Librarian, who would seem to suffer from immediate amnesia regarding the ‘No Cell phone inside” rule, would take out a Sony-Ericsson from his pocket and would begin to rap at 237 words/min at the rate of an estimated 95 Decibels, while communicating with an ignorant man on the other end of the phone (probably, a telemarketing executive).

Imagine this happening many times, everyday.

Naturally, couples who bunked classes together never found this sanctum of books as the ideal place for romance.

One day, the Librarians cell phone, cried yet again, as loud as it could. The pandemonium, beginning from the earth shattering ‘tring-tring’ repeated itself ending with a conversation which went as fast as BSNL broad band’s bit-rate*. As soon as he disconnected, a “We wish you a merry Christmas” ringtone blasted off from the students’ side of the library. The guilty ridden librarian, amidst the students’ muffled laughter, tried his hand at acting like a person who had forgotten his ear drums at home. The ring tone completed the chorus(“We wish…happy new year”) and died down, stopping short of the stanza (“Good tidings…”).

The Librarian resumed breathing.
Yet again, the book-man’s phone rang the sweet chiming-bell ringtone which resonated in the high roofed library. This time he showed considerable mastery of his skill to operate a mobile handset, and cut the call. A miracle.

As if in retaliation, “We wish you a merry Christmas” rang out again from the same student, the duration of which matched that of the Librarian’s sweet chiming Ericsson. Furiously, the book-monster charged towards his suspect who still seemed to think it was Christmas. He was just about to confiscate the lad’s mobile, when Ericsson started chiming again, from his desk, which was now around 20 steps away. With it crying like a hungry new-born, and knowing that he was going to lose the game, he yelled, “Give me the phone!”. The cheeky student who knew his moves smiled boldly, and replied “No”. All the eyes in the library moved from student to librarian to his desk. The chimes now reached a feverishly high pitch. Knowing that he was in quick sand, the Librarian attempted, “Come and give me the phone”, and leapt towards his desk in an attempt to silence the pandemonium. Identifying the call as an unavoidable one following a look at the screen, he picked it up. Immediately, the joy of Christmas pervaded the whole hall through a monophonic rendition of the now familiar Christmas song. The Librarian showed signs of not being able to concentrate on his conversation, and kept repeating a variety of “Hello”s amidst the din of the now fairly audible laughter of students who watched he “War of the Cell Phones”. The atmosphere of Christmas faded away and Mr. Book(ed)man , with much sweat dripping down his forehead (which confirmed family matters as the content of conversation), turned around to catch hold of the student who was bold enough to pull one on him.

But he had coolly walked away amidst the din.

With much weariness, Mr. books sat behind his desk. Sensing much distress, the assistant librarian approached him enquiring if he was alright and whether he needed some water.
“No”, he grunted, “Just show me how to switch this thing off.”

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* Claimed to be around 2 mega bite per second

Blog at its best.

Today, finally I got to read the blog which I had read only twice before. the entries have increased and its a beautiful one.

It made my eyes water. Not because of the emotional content, but by the fact that I knew 90 percent of the stories in context. Re-living the memories of what my best friend had gone through, left me shaken. He had told most of these stories, especially when his heart could not hold it anymore. I am honoured to have been confided to, to be trusted and to have been beside this elder brother who's saved my number as 'anchor', on his phone, beside the name. To have been part of that big story, I consider myself lucky. Its not with everyone that you pour out your heart, in this volume. Like a dam that can't hold anymore, those feelings kept spilling out. As always, I still believe that the dam is built on a strong sure foundation, the foundation called the Lord. Miracles.  Countless miracles. No brother, not a coincidence. you are right. He's beside you. and your life has proven it to me.

I love way he writes. No bars. Never apologetic. Always candid and frank. Just the way he felt. No sensorship. Heart on the blog. I would love to write that way. But I hold back. straight from the heart writing has its own beauty. I love that beauty.

Always beside you, buddy. we've got great plans for the future and have placed it in front of the Lord. He'll use or discard it. I'm for using it! God Bless you.

End note.
I wish I had a net connection of my own so that I could keep blogging regularly cos there's so much I want to write about.

---

Park yourself in front of a world of choices in alternative vehicles.
Visit the Yahoo! Auto Green Center.

Lots of ideas

Got a huge wave of ideas on things which I'd like to do once the exams are over.

 

Go for violin classes

Write for that magazine I've signed up for

Read those dusty books piled up in my roon (all which I'd bought)

Mail all those friends whom I'd sworn to but haven't mailed in ages and regularly keep in touch

Bible studies and note taking - learning that Holy book a bit more

Researching on  statistics - one thing  really need in my career and don't know for nuts.

Stay some time with my parents.

Meet grand pa and find out how seems to be rocking in that small place of his at this age.

Revamp the blog

 

Usually, I love to make such lists long and they end up remaining as a mere list. This time, I will be working on it. Sure. No, no swearing.

---

8:00? 8:25? 8:40? Find a flick in no time
with theYahoo! Search movie showtime shortcut.

Moving on

It is  very important to move on in life towards the end of a course in college or some other institution, especially if ou have had close friends. I thought I had moved on until I spent some time with a friend of mine whom I am not sure I will meet again. Many reasons: Distance. Priorities. Financial situations. An Archies card might say "You will be in my heart forever".

 

A big lie in exchange of some money.

 

People will never be as close as they were when they part ways. They are going to find nw and perhaps, better friends and so are you. the imortant thing is to let go of memories. Let them stay as memories and have its own place and context and may it prompt you to keep in touch. Once you let go, you can move on towards a new hold-no-bars friendship, the length of which depends on situations. Sounds pessimistic ,i know, but then, what if that is the truth.

 

Of course, I have disclaimers, with a couple of exceptions who remain just the same when you meet them after many years. If that is so, good for you!

 

Life, I feel, calls us to move on though that is not the thing which we are ready to hear or like hearing. 

 

But then, truth hurts. 

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Yahoo! oneSearch: Finally, mobile search that gives answers, not web links.

Thanks, dear Marjan, my faithful friend.

Marjan never fails to send some ever inspiring stuff which could just light up one'slife right away and provoke one to action. SomethingsI found at the bottom of her latest email.

"The fruit of Silence is Prayer. The fruit of Prayer is Faith. The fruit of Faith is Love. The fruit of Love is Service. The fruit of Service is Peace."

"Beware of prejudice! Light is good in whatsoever lamp it is burning. A rose is beautiful in whatsoever garden it may bloom. A star has the same radiance whether it shines from the east or from the west."

Flopping the magazine

This is to announce the successful flopping of the magazine called Automoney, which flopped even before it could be released.
The copy was editted and all done and had to just go through one of the teacher's eyes. I gave it to him. It' still there.

* * *
All my friends and juniors have gone home. Happy hols! I might just publish it in heaven or something, if they have a publishing house there.

Time to change?

Some people evolve their own style of writing over time. Their writing become so characteristic to the way they are. Over time, my writing has evolved, I believe, and many people, surprisingly, have given good feed back. There are times when I rite stuff which is not the usual stuff, which in itself, I believe is not that boring.
The thought that's in my mind is should I stick to write the same way, which is spontaneous, or also include the stuff out side the periphery of my usual writing.

I guess, on blogs, you can write what you want, the way you want. Once you have a regular set of readers, then perhaps, they will start expecting the same kind of stuff. In my case, that category consists of a few but faithful number of people. For now, then, i shall write whatever I want. Guess, I'll do the same, later too.

Deb, your comment made me think. Thanks.

They say them good

Blogger noticed these blogs today:

London Underground Tube Diary
Healing Iraq
Raising Yousuf
Secret Dubai Diary
Tokyo Girl Down Under
the breakfast blog
AOL Hot Searches
The Thinking Blog
Xenomachina

inch by inch.

The day is nearing. The last day 56 students, together as a class, after 3 years. I have been postponing thinking about that last day and the days to come, for days. Today it struck me. Really hard.

Ol' buddy Sol took his last class for us. The first one to be the last, just because its the first class on the first day of the week. Monday 9 am. It was on 'Christianity and the Colonisers'. He spoke eloquently and bravely about how the European perception of Christianity caused the African Cultures to ' Fall Apart'. The bell rang and my heart wrenched. He was the first in the series of teachers to say that final "All the Best" which meant "Good Bye" . No more Sol. No more Afrcian Post Colonialist Literature. No more intellectually stimulating discussions. No more social- upliftment thoughts inspired by the talks on the suffering of African people in the hands of the Colonisers. No more Mondays. They are ending one by one. And my heart pounds hard against my frail rib cage, wanting to burst out and stay back in time. Inch by inch. It creeps in. There is going to be a good bye. And I am dreading it.

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Successful entry

Checking if a blog could be updated through email. Success!

3310: End of story – A new beginning

3310: End of story – A new beginning
(Those who don't know the stories, check this out
http://georgelivestheday.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html
http://georgelivestheday.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html)

For those who remember the stories on my 3310, here’s the end of it.
On a not so bad day, except for the exams, I tried being a good boy which led to the end of my relation‘ship-wreck’ with 3310. It had been quite faithful to me for 14 months, save the Display problems it displayed and the lack of energy towards the end of its days (which is marked from a week prior to its vanishing).

March 2 ’07. Mid sem exams. My classmates and I didn’t really care for the test and all of us were in a holiday mood and considered two hours in the exam hall nothing but drudgery. Keeping a careless attitude, I kept my 3310 in my pocket and began writing the exam. Then I realized that it was a dangerous thing to do in my institution as the jobless squad of exam controllers would come and check my pockets and would de-bar me from the exams. So, just the way I’d done in the previous days, I kept the three-three on the invigilators table. The teacher must have blessed me for being so honest, half an hour into the exam. May be she thought “ Missed it!.”

My answers seemed to take forever to complete and I found myself keeping the teacher waiting in the class as all the others had left by then. But the sweet chimes reminding the end of drudgery hadn’t been sounded.

Finally, they did.

'em little things in life

Little things in life give so much pleasure. It just leaves you dumbfounded when something as simple as a letter from a loved one just turns your day upside down. Rather, the sunny side up. I love letters. Handwritten ones. Whether it’s written with hatred or love, comes secondary. It’s very special when there’s love flowing all through it. I got a letter written in red ink from my sister which made me feel, after all, what matters the most is how much you love and how you care for others. And honestly, it makes you stop loving with limits. There is not a thing that holds you back any more and that freedom to love is something, I feel, everyone should experience at some point of life; if not, life is incomplete. Perhaps you are thinking that there is no one who would love you like that. The solution is simple, why wait for somebody to love you that much? You go ahead first. That isn’t easy, but you ought to try. What’s wrong in loving someone?

Are they just one of us? Or them once us?

During the Psychotic Seminar on Ladies Cykologi, which happened last week, I got a chance to chat with ol' Sole and Paddy. Sole had just presented a paper on Women's writing and i apprecitated him for ending it on a constructive as well as postitve note, rather than just bash the ladies in retaliation towards many who were doing that through their papers, with the Hood of The Department Ms.Goldie in the lead (she got quite emotional and was applauded loudly by the mostly female audience). I had no regrets on attending the seminar. It was interesting to see how life was on the other side of the fence.
Coming back to Paddy and ol' Sol, we had tea together were I laughed when they cracked some joke in Tamil. We talked just like I would talk to anybody in my class. They were out of their Guru-garb and were just plain human beings, perhaps a bit senior to me. They seemed to have been me, once upon a time. (Do they miss being like us? Nothing is forever). They also treated me like a friend and answered my questions regarding the novels they were handling in klass. Paddy gave me a great perspective on how to read David Malouf's 'Fly Away Peter', which I thought was filled with very boring nature descriptions (Oh, but not as bad as Thomas Hardy). He said, that Malouf expected us to imagine the landscape, make it real the way he saw it, so that we could get an insiders view towards it. Now, that suddenly seemed something beautiful to do. An excercise for my empty brain, which would stimulate my imagination and creativity. Thanks Paddy. I still think your classes are academically enriching with all those points you expect us to discuss. And Sol, you rock with all those descriptions on Post Colonial literary works. I wish more people listened to you guys in class. They'd gain much more from you all than the Abnormally Psychotic Classes. No offence to Cyko, cos that's the field I'm going to be in!

Announcement: New Magazine.

For all those who are feeling quite strongly about the way the system is functioning, or rather malfunctioning... here's an outlet. I'm attempting to vent our concerns, in many ways through a News Letter called :

automoney

It's going to be a satirical magazine in collaboration with BHL. I'd love to get more ideas, comments, thoughts and issues which we can raise up. Actually, this magazine will concentrate, step by step on issues which are of concern, but are down played in our institution. Those who aren't from the institution can also contribute, if you are that jobless. Please spread the word. Thanks.
Mail your stuff to:

editors.automoney@gmail.com

We appreciate humour and would like to have a lot of it. But then, you write the way you want. Sarcasm accepted.

Thanks!
Low profile guy and BHL.

The Sound guy of music

The Sound guy of music
By the end of two years being in the Kul team of the institution, one reaps many benefits as long as one is willing to interact. Knowing the ‘sound guys’ when you go for a fest and take part in a stage-music event, helps you in many ways. First of all, you get all the equipment and, generally, how many ever mics you want. Then you don’t have to worry about the kind of sound that comes through the PA , as they’d manage it because you have already gone and said a warm hello to them and have asked the guy to assure us of a good sound. Actually, genuinely recognising their work and their ability and letting them know about it, creates a friendship between you and them because they know that you actually are grateful for the service they did, which most people often find hard to remember. Then there is the fact the, you ask for more or less volume, they’d do it gladly for you. It IS important to say a thank you from the heart once the programme is over, irrespective of how it went.
I forgot to do that at the Jaw-Chef fest. Wanted to say thanks to Joe who gave us an awesome sound and output on the PA. Thanks to you Johansson, if you ever happen to read this.
***

Deportmental Fixation

Deportmental Fixation

My friend told me a deplorable story with the Deportment of Cykologi cast as the villain, yet again. For the end semester practical exam, the second year students were asked to bring school students as subjects. They claimed that they were to make it authentic experiments. 60-70% of those doing Cykologi courses are not from Bangalore and do not have many contacts locally. In spite of this limitation, they were asked to bring school students as subjects (or guinea pigs), that too on week days. I wonder why the department which studies human psyche did not even pay attention to simple things like the difficulty for out station students to fulfil this requirement. So students ran around in a frenzy trying to get school students.

Many disguised pre-university course (PUC) students as High School-aged subjects. Some bribed people to come. Some walked in to a near by school with their powerful contacts and loaned the students for an hour. Towards the end, there was such anger and frustration among the students that they began cursing the department loudly in the college corridors. The anger touched its peak when those who could not find school aged subjects were allowed to conduct experiments on the usual subjects (friends, mothers, friend’s friends, etc), without any punishment, unlike threatened by the Deportment before. Towards the last batches, anybody and everybody were allowed to bring a subject of their choice.

What injustice! First, they threaten to cut Assessment Internally Continuous marks if the subject was not of the required age, causing dissatisfaction and frenzy among students due to the mounting difficulty and inconvenience in a city not their own. And in the end, once they had been through all the trouble of bribing and fancy dressing friends and strangers, the Deportment just overlooked those who didn’t even care to at least attempt following the rules. This was absolutely thoughtless of the Deportment of Cykologi and at least in the future, should not act like a stubborn child when it comes to trivial matters like these. And if they act stubborn, they should stick to what they say and not become partial and let some students not care for the guidelines, which are at the first place, crazy. I wonder what kind of a fixation a Deportment forms as it develops over the years in to a fully grown, still stubborn child.
***

The other side of the curtain.

The other side of the curtain.

(Thoughts from the seminar)
One is so easily susceptible to believing and accepting someone else’s beliefs and ideologies in such a short time, how much ever you used to oppose them. It is so difficult to not believe when they convincingly state the facts while drawing a curtain over the other side of their argument, often narrowing the visions of those who have not gone to the other side of the curtain. It is the easiest to fall prey to such one sided arguments when there is no one else to bring up the other end of it, which often appears sugar coated and goes down easily, unlike truth which tastes like bitter medicine.
***

You and your neighbours.

In my sixth grade, came a new guy. His name was unusually long for any person from our community (which is notorious for giving weird names to their new born children. Eg: Flubbeesh). Mr. Moncy (There! I told you), our class teacher, who was a strict but funny man, asked him his name during the introduction at the beginning of the academic year.
"Jerrin Antony Joseph Thottaan".
"I didn't ask all your neighbours names, just say yours", said the 'strictly funny' man.
The class laughed away.

11 years later, I came across a person who taught in a famous college in the Pub city. Name?
'Jesus Milton Rousseau S.'
My best buddy asked me, on telling her, about him:
" Does the 'S' stand for Shakespeare?"

With little children after a long day.

After the long wait and the sweet victory at a fest which was everything but "KALA" (hey...perhaps, it was 'kaala'), I asked BHL if he'd join me for a programme where I thought I'd have to be alone. The programme was to be with kids and entertain them with songs stories, games and all that, while their daddies and mummies sat next door in a garden saying "I still do" (It's the Valentine's thing coming up). BHL, to my suprsie agreed and as usual we had a great time talking about a wide variety of things, from salt to camphor, to use a local term. The journey to Indira's Nagar was great, though we ended up paying the Autoguy through our nose!

The children sat on the turning thing and swings and slowly we got close to them and it went on for an hour, effortlessly, by God's grace. We played Follow the Leader (his idea), then an instant improvised game: What-occupation-am-I-acting-out? which wasn't all that heavy as it sounds. then we taught them, the songs "Telephone to Jesus", and then when we went indoors- "I want to be your friend a litle bit more". This last song was awesome with all the uncles who were there to helP JOINING IN THE SUPER KIDS ACTION. wAS FUN, MAN..

The dinner was great and we all had to our necks fill. Yeah, uptil our necks. Afterall, the dinner was the main attraction of the programme. At least that's what Vinay and Tom said.
We walked through silent Indiranagar, which is noisy by day, in search of a bus. But BHL's idea was to take a cab to Koramangala. He was the rights. We got one all the way to my bus stop and then we parted ways. Good night. It was great fun and filling.

migration and settlement- the prototype of humanity in a class room

In the beginning of first year, nobody wanted a fixed place in the class room. All were free birds and any teacher who even dared to impose a particular place for the students of a noisy class were met with threatening glares and mumbles of strong dissentment.

I'll sit where I want. This isn't primary school. We're grown ups.

Months passed. Today I look around the class. Everyone's on the same seat as yesterday. Looks like their behinds have been stuck to those 38 year old benches. There is a fear to move to another seat,beside a class mate whom one hasn't talked to much. Fear of alienation, fear of talking to a class mate outside one's own group. Nobody wants to befriend another who's been in class but seems like a stranger, just before going out of the college (it's the last year).

Some months ago, a gang of friends "reasoned" with another group of friends why that place belonged to them and how they'd got used to it. The latter group were so cross that they mumbled and walked off.

People migrate for a while. Then they setlle down. It's been the same with life, the same with humanity. Communities of people migrated thousands of years ago and settled somewhere, at a point of time. When other migrants came along after a while, initial settlers flinched their eye brows. Sometimes, it led to wore. thank God, that can't happen here. But it's all the same. Even in life Passionate lovers settle down for one specific lover at some point of time. Most people stick to a particular job at some stage, after shifting many jobs.

And, I realised, the human community, shows the same characteristics wherever they are- be it a class, or in life, or anywhere. Migration stops at some point of time. But it need not be pleasant to all.

OE - Beginning with the Seventeenth century.

Find them:

There's a lot in a NIL pint-oh not again, it'll scatter all over! So ban a teacher who can wear saddam's shoes and walk beside Paddy fields along with King Sol who's against Edward-the Last, of the neighbouring country, besides being a buye(r).

If you've found them, congratulations, you can keep quiet now!

Smokey.

It is just funny when your lecturer smells of cigarette when you greet him in the college corridor during the break.

Journalism Class Script II

Recently, the bunny came and told me an inccident which would qualify to be presented under Journalism Class Script II:

A very active student from the Bachelors classcomes running into the staff room and asks Beloved Mr. NR, "Sir, Sir, I want to go to the UK and study when should I write the IELTS exam?"

"Uh.. when they hold it."

Hope she writes the exam.

* * *

Sir talking about Sports Reporting in Class:

"Anyone knows the National Sport of Pakistan? Anyone?"

"Cricket Sir!!", attempts a backbencher, which carried a a typical immature teenage american phrase "Duh...!" as the subtext.

"It's Hockey , ok? It's hockey", he revealed and added, " Atleast one thing they both agree on."

3rd year English textbook on google books

Did anybody ever know that you get to read third Year Optional English text books on google books? Sign in with your google account and study fortheexams online. Why buy the books, anyway?
Instructions:
Go to the google site. Press the 'more' button and then the books tab and go ahead searching for your book.
I got it while searching 'Sashi Deshpande' for an assignment. Try a person from the EuropeanLit book and I'msure you'llfind the other book there too.

Here's where you get Text and the Worlds.
Indian Lit:
http://books.google.com/books?q=Shashi+Deshpande&as_brr=0

European lit:
http://books.google.com/books?lr=&q=The+handsomest+man+in+the+world&btnG=Search+Books&as_brr=0

Enjoy Fellas. Print me a page when you print one.