.: Born Another Day :.

2011-09-05T15:13:00.001+05:30

                        Different.

So there was this kid, right? He was different. He realized that he actually had a different sort of affection towards who he thought was his best friend. His society told him not to ever let this secret love be known to anyone ever, for his own survival. He read this rich girl's blog which talked about a similar story. He was terrified of the outcome it predicted. He heard this guy tell the girl that her story was more or less a cliché. That terrified him even more. He became more of an introvert than he used to be.

                                                                                  He tried to change himself. He tried watching porn. Hardcore porn. He ended up downing stuff from kink.com. He was all the more scared. He mustered all his courage and tried to nail the house cook. He failed because
#1.he was a coward
#2.she was hideous
#3.he was gay

He tried many things to change his orientation. All those only enhanced them. He whined for something up his ass.

                                                               He felt his life come to a dead end. He felt boxed. No way out. Helplessness. Certain gloom awaiting him all his life. He felt himself trapped inside a cube of a room with no doors or windows but squishy walls. He tried to find a solution.

                                                                                           I'd fly to America. I'd live in the underworld. I'll hold myself together till I mature & get myself a sex partner as an errand boy or adopted son, or whatever. I'll blackmail people into having sex with me. Fuck this, I'll just hang myself. No, I'll be a rebel. I'll fight this society till the last nerve of mine transmits pulse.

                                                                                                       But then again, he was just an eighteen year old pampered upper middle class kid with a pocket money of a couple of thousand Indian rupees and a couple more in some bank account in his name. With not even the courage to "end it all in a piece of rope" as the cliché goes.

                                                          His life was so far full of reset buttons and save points and invincibility shields and god modes. This was the first true test in life. He was an agnostic. That was the trend among the city kids at that time.

                   "Fuck you God, why did you bring this upon me? What wrong did I ever do to you to give me this kind of suffering? If you test your dearer the more do not count me your dearer....

                                                              I know this is not the effect of any string theory or butterfly effect. This is all your doing. You are chaos, you are the Devil. You just switch roles between the good guy and the bad guy. You with your plans unknown to us, You sexless pervert fucking with life's lives.

                         Why didn't you give me poverty? Chop off my limb? Give me AIDS? Why this unacceptable battle against society? Why did you put me down to a battle you knew I lost? "

                                                THE END

2011-08-30T15:39:00.000+05:30

DIOS

And that is why I decided to try again. So the story ran...
...as the old man stared at the sky in front of him. He was perplexed. He was trying to figure out certain things.
Why did they still trust him? Why did they still believe in him, despite having no clue as to the nature of his justice of complicated logic that he administered to them? His conscience got hooked to that word. Logic. He pulled it with all his might. And it ripped itself off the hook with a wound.

He still thought. He thought of how they worshipped him all these long years despite his questionable sense of judgment. They had various ideas among themselves about how he did it, but none had the slightest clue. They still ardently argued and fought among themselves upholding their ideas of him and his nature. It was not him, but their idea of him which was important. He was just a tool?

Their predecessors were not a problem. They who also knew of him, neither worshipped him nor disrespected him. But these newcomers were different. They were, arguably, fighting in his name.

But the coward that he is, chose indifference to interference. Let the world be. After all, he was not God, to feel the least responsible.....

2011-08-25T14:55:00.002+05:30

Dios II

And then I realized. I had thought she thought I was. But apparently, ones thoughts do not create truth. My nerves did the anticipated. My hormones did the anticipated.
I became anticipation’s fruitfulness.
Despair. Desperation. Depression. They were anticipation today, which is more often a dynamic variable than a constant.
Aham Brahmasmi, I told myself. It just somehow, did not seem convincing.

                                                                                I felt the need for support. I’d seen people, when they felt they need support, illogically holding themselves together, leaning on others proclaiming to be god. I’d seen others still, illogically still, leaning against god, defining it as what they want that which they lean on to be.

                                                           But the point is, logic is not always the explanation, not always the solution. So I searched for something to lean on. I felt the need. Unquestionable need. I cried out for it. Waited for it. But I couldn’t find it. I had faith, I told myself. It was not convincing. “I have faith,” I told the world, it sounded more convincing.

                                                                                                         But I was falling. I needed a support now, before the fall was complete. At least a soft bed for me to fall into. Desperation. Urgency. Fear. I was falling.

                                          I found nothing. I fell. Shattered I was. Deplorable. Ugly. But my heart was still beating, barely. It was not the end. Horrifying. Was I vice? Or was I brave? Or was I dumb?

I woke up.
I still did not know whether she thought I was or not.

2011-01-21T23:44:00.000+05:30

Criss-crossing the Borderline…

08/01/2011, 11:50pm: What has life taught me so far? Nothing much, except that some questions have no answer. That some problems have no solutions. That whatever I do, think, or feel; sometimes there is nothing that I can do about it.

That feeling of helplessness and futility – it is terrible. At times.

Tonight, when my mother said she’ll walk out of the house if I shut the door to my room, I thought I saw a silver lining.

At times, the hope takes reason prisoner.

And so I closed the door to my room, with a loud thud to ensure she realized it.

My reason broke free. But still it tried to comfort me: She wouldn’t have gone. No, she doesn’t have the guts for it at ten thirty at night.

But then, she’s not rational.

Restlessness.

It’s been long enough. Let me see, she will be there in the drawing room, and I can talk to her about her about her pseudo threats and tantrums.

But she was gone.

Happiness(?).

Reason once again was taken prisoner.

I checked the other rooms.

Nobody. Not even brother.

I rushed out.

There he was, out in front of our flat.

Where is mother?

She left the moment I closed the door, he says.

But I expected her not to go, say I, lying more to myself than to him.

“Call dad. Tell him. I’ll keep watch for her.”

“You tell him. It won’t be right for me to tell him. I’ll keep watch.”

He agrees, as though he understood me perfectly well.

I hate him for that, but I am grateful though.

The phone is switched off, he says.

Fuck.

What now.

She’s not to be seen. And he’s switched off.

Fuck.

“I’ll try calling. You keep watch.”

I go pick up her mobile, and start deleting the messages.

I come out. He’s still there. No sign of her.

Perhaps somebody living below took her in, he says.

Hope is so powerful that it takes reason prisoner again.

We come in.

“I needn’t close the door, right?”

“No, let it be.”

We switch the TV on.

Uncomfortable.

“Bolt the door” said I.

Comfortableness. Peace of mind.

Reason is almost nailed down to its prison cell walls.

We watch a show full of comic strips from movies. It’s funny.

And nerve relaxing.

Time has passed. We already have forgot her? Life is not a tragedy. So we wish to think.

The futility is better ignored. But nay, that be not so.

The calling bell rings.

“I’ll go in. You open the door,” the coward that I am.

“Switch off the TV.”

With pleasure. Once again, grateful for his understanding though still I despise him for it.

Not enough courage or reason or sensibility to shut the door to my room.

She comes right in.

Give me my wool from up there, says she, and I’ll leave.

Fierce battle between hope and reason.

And so I stay still.

That would mean she will have to get it herself from up there, which is nearly impossible.

Maybe she won’t go then.

I get up, and walk towards the cupboard high up.

I pause. Reason is still trying with all it’s might.

But it’s just not as pleasing as hope.

I pick the bag up, in which is all the wool.

She loses control and comes rushing at me, shouting “You’d rather have me out, won’t you?”

The next half hour I wish not to recall.

She is begging me to tell her not to go, crying into my lap.

I sit and stare.

“Nobody sent you out...” my brother says.

She repeats her plea.

I finally make out the following words to her:

“I can’t tell you to go. Nor can I tell you not to go.”

There. The truth.

But she repeats her plea.

“Nobody likes me. Everyone hates me. I am bad. I know it.” Etc.

This pseudo realisation makes things worse for a borderline personality.

“Why don’t you kill me. Buy me some poison. Don’t torture me like this.” She says.

I am not torturing her. I told myself.

“Why do you do this to me?”

That’s obviously my question too.

“Please son, come with me and make me sleep in peace.”

“No. I can’t do things for you. I hate you.

Why do you care about me so much? I don’t want you to care about me this much.”

“I happened to have given birth to you, son, and I can’t help it.”

She is pseudo apologetic.

I can’t help it.

We are in bed. I wanted to shut her up in the room and return, but somehow, couldn’t bring myself to it.

I try reasoning with her again.

Despite the futility.

“Mom, what you want is someone who is submissive to you totally, AND loves you very much. There is no one like that. One who obeys you totally is a slave, and slaves don’t love their masters.

You try to make them whom you love and those who love you into your slaves, thereby making them hate you and move away from you.

Since we’re family, we can’t get away from you.

“But I don’t want anyone to be my slave.”

“Do you like me watching TV?”

“No, son, I can’t stand it” she nearly moans.

“Computer?”

“No.”

“Reading?”

“” No son, I can’t watch you do all this instead of studying. What all have I done for you?

Washed your clothes, made your food, and gave you money……”

It can’t be helped mom, said I internally.

“So you want me to study all the time. And study alone.”

“Yes, and then I would be happy and we would all be happy.”

“See. You want me to do only what you wish me to do. You can’t even stand me being happy doing something I like to do, or rather, any other thing at all.”

“I know it is wrong. I know I am bad. “She’s sarcastic.

“But it can’t be helped, son.”

Yes. It can’t be helped. I keep my silence.

Some problems have no solutions.

Futility.

Here I am, trying to muster sleep, right next to my moaning mother.

Devastating sense of futility haunting my aching mind every second.

2010-10-21T15:39:00.000+05:30

I don’t expect this to work.

I am not at my creative best, and I am not feeling like I should write (or type, or whatever…)

And I really have nothing planned in my mind. I just don’t know what to do. I’m so pissed and

Cartmanish (dumb people can Google “South park – Eric Cartman”) and isolated from the rest of the world. There is really nothing for me to do.

That’s it for now. I have to go watch South park now.

********************************************************************************

PS: Aw, goddamn it!

2010-10-09T23:20:00.000+05:30

that's it for now. a nice big shaking smiley with hands. chum!

2010-08-30T21:37:00.000+05:30

Thoughts

What am I doing?
Typing Practise. :|
Yes. Readers are going to have to bear with the smilies from now on. They help me communicate what I have in my mind better. I have come to grips with the fact that I have ideas, maybe vocabulary, but lacks that ability to spit what is there in my mind on to paper. Of course, this could be utter rubbish. I myself may feel so at a later stage. After all, even truth is relative. Relative with both time, space and observer.(People I recommend you see Rashomon the movie right now: http://btjunkie.org/torrent/Akira-Kurosawa-Rashomon-1950-DVDRip-Eng-Sub-SiRiUs-sHaRe/44322b3a5b900acfca54a37439418fb9b4d7b921b0ac)

********************************************************************************

I am feeling uncomfortable again. Each time I get tired of society, I realize more and more clearly how I do not belong there. I just want to quit. things are all uneasy for me right now. I want to retreat. I want to be that claustrophilic noob that I once was, again. Undisturbed by friends, ignored by the public, missing from society, lost in mine own world.My own world where nobody can bother me, no hazards can block my path, no assignments can pre-occupy my mind.

********************************************************************************

One should always give room for his insanities.Otherwise they will swell inside him and as he toughens his outer chitin of manners and behaviour, he grows to be more and more of a hypocrite.

A hypocrite is like a hexapod stuck in its molting stage for ever, unable or unwilling to break that outer shell of pupa and evolve into the butterfly .(I sense deteriorating English.)

********************************************************************************

Constipation need not necessarily mean constipation of faeces alone. Imagine a constipation of thoughts.

In your mind. You have a lot of thoughts all too thick and waiting to be let out. But you can't. They are not coming out. You feel more pain as you try harder. You know you will feel a lot better if you let them all out and that you cannot go on without letting it go. But you can't suffer the pains. What will you do?

Trust me, people do die of constipation.

*********************************************************************************

End of thoughts.

Post Script: I was running with all might. I couldn't stop for all my life. Adrenalin was pumping through my arteries and veins. I was tense. Extremely tense But there was only one problem. I couldn't even get the faintest idea of why I was running.....

2010-06-10T21:16:00.002+05:30

Cliff

There I was, at the edge of a cliff. The wind was having its fun. I looked down to the sea below, lashing its waves over the rocks. I looked above. I saw the clear blue sky, painted with white spongy clouds. I was growing tense. I had to decide. It was really stressing. I looked forward: the endless sea at an end on the horizon. ”The globe is round,” I reflected. I looked behind: a mixture of colours. Green, yellow, grey, ochre, scarlet…….. Tension was mounting. Thoughts were getting heavier. Pressure was increasing. I had to decide. As soon as possible. I knew I had to turn around. But I wanted to go forward. But I also knew I will go below if I went forward. I wished I could go up. But no, I knew I would end up there in the end.

“I tried so hard and got so far,

But in the end, it doesn’t even matter.”

I quoted Linkin Park to myself.

I began to turn around - to go back to the complex colours of reality - to indulge in the ignorance of other spectrums of electromagnetic radiation than visible light. But I couldn’t. It was too much for me. I couldn’t take it anymore. My conscience will simply not let me.

But then, I had already turned around. Nothing to be done now. It was all over. “Another coward have I made of myself.” My conscience began to prick me again, as it did for the past so many units of time. I tried so hard but, and got so far. In the end it doesn’t even matter? I closed my eyes. I tried to pray. I tried to pray to god. No. I couldn’t do it. Even in such agony, I couldn’t. I felt ashamed for calling God when I was in trouble – for I did not call him when I was not in trouble. Not out of disrespect or ignorance (For the Almighty forgives them too) but out of will and determination to live in His world without his aid…..

*************************************************************************************

It had been a while. There I was, at the edge of a cliff. The wind was having its fun. I looked down to the sea below, lashing its waves over the rocks. I looked above. I saw the clear blue sky, painted with white spongy clouds. I looked forward: the endless sea at an end on the horizon. I looked behind: a mixture of colours. Green, yellow, grey, ochre, scarlet……..

I turned around again. Tension mounting. Pressure climbing. Decision pending. And then it struck me. I can always walk backwards. You may think it a weird decision, but for me and the likes of me, this is the perfect decision. You see, just like brave people can sometimes do acts of cowardice trying to be brave, it also is that cowards can some times pull brave stunts without having to be brave at all….. And so did I walk backwards, as the sea and more importantly the horizon behind me, trying to reach there where I wanted to go, yet not daring to face the results of my attempt, with my horror filled eyes fixed at the clear blue sky painted with spongy clouds over the edge of this cliff of my life; where I knew I would end up no matter what, for I tried so hard and got so far……….

Afterthought: In the end, will it even matter……?

2010-01-18T23:14:00.007+05:30

Of Narcissus and some other irrelevant things

Hmm......

Yes, it's been a while I guess...

And so here I am, staring into the monitor, unsure of what to type in, yet determined to type in something worth reading... So here goes.....

OK. Let's say I took to blogging just because some of my friends started doing it. Besides, right after I did the first post, I really thought this was my thing. But like all other interesting stuff, this too ceased to impress me soon enough. I guess that would be why it's been such a long while since my last post. Many times have I thought about doing this, yet I just did not feel like it...

As to why I write this blog...

Ya, you can say that I just want to express myself.(Duh! ugly common answer!) But the true reason is that so that I start completing what I start writing(ya, my close friends would know that my works are seldom complete.Even in my dashboard here, I have five-six unfinished unpublished drafts.)

Erm... this is not really turning into something worth reading is it?
Let me talk about those blogs which inspired me into blogging....
There is this Mr.krizzZZzzZzZz's blog from which it all began. You really can't say anything sarcastic about it except that there are unproven allegations that parts of his work are not original.

Then I can tell you about one Mr.Dexter who started the blog, like, a year ago with his maiden post, and has yet not improved to post a second post.(I wonder what he means by melting cheese sticks...)

Ya, there is also this blog claiming to be Devil's junkyard or something like that (well it sure has junk... and this blog's theme... not that it is a point..) Oh, that blogger really, I guess, is interested in propagating the usage of the thesaurus more than anything else through his blog (implicitly though successfully I hope.. )

Oh yeah, there is also this soul-to-be-inspired who is heavily depending on this blogger as to what is to be in his blog (Of course, I am only proud of myself on it, and is not intending to downcast that soul in any sense.)

Then there are other blogs I follow like "not just great minds think alike" and "pandemonium personified" about which descriptions are barely a necessity I guess. The name says it all....

Duh! That's all I got.

Ya, I'd like to make a disclaimer: this does not mean that I am of the view that my blog alone is perfect... I don't think my blog is a big deal at all...(again, unlike that junkyard blogger, who used to think people would die to be mentioned in his blog...)

OK. So here's the deal. Don't go yet, I'll tell you a story.
It's about a flower called Narcissus. The Greeks as we know were highly imaginative. They thought this flower is the evolved form of a man- a prince, to be precise.

So here is the story:
As per the Greeks, most imaginable things are related to gods or goddesses. Either the god has the power or the god is the thing we are talking about. So, my point is, though today we are less likely to believe that the phenomenon of "echo" is actually a Greek goddess, we should try to agree to it, at least for the story.

So, this Greek goddess Echo, was punished. I don't remember the reason well enough. But I'm sure she did something naughty.(Naughty as in Naughty America.) So, the gods punished her for it. They took away her voice, but due to some connections she had with the Mt. Olympus, she managed to get back a little of her ability- She could only repeat what others say, i.e., she cannot say anything on her own. And she was thrown out of the god's land as well... But that can't turn the horniness out of a person, can it? definitely not for her.(The Greek gods and goddesses are famous for this.)

Thus she was trotting along the Greek countryside, like any other cocky chick today. That was when she came across this hot and handsome prince by the name Narcissus.Never before had she seen a god so cute and handsome as this man.(I really think Greek gods were not that cute, for why else should this girl here, The goddess who loved Tithonus, and numerous others go after men above gods? )Anyways, it was actually love at first sight for her. She couldn't resist. She apparated into his view. The prince was taken aback by the beauty of the goddess. Narcissus asked: "Who are you?"
Echo could do nothing but repeat"Who are you!" (I wonder whether she was 17 meters away, you know, minimum distance for echo to take effect.)
Narcissus, despite his killing looks, was a complete idiot, and near about a retard. He said: "Hey, that's not funny! Are you playing tricks on me?"

Again, to Echo's own misery, she could only repeat what he said.
The cycle repeated. Echo desperately wanted to convey her love, but how? Show her bare bosom to him?

The angry and pissed retard that Narcissus is, his answers to her echoes grew more and more vulgar and sick.

Finally, a heartbroken Echo, ran away crying to herself. The Gods saw this and recognized the true love in Echo and the true retard in Narcissus who dumped such a cute girl just for repeating what he said. They cursed him too.(This is where I get pissed with the Greek gods. They could easily have given Echo the voice back and make Narcissus aware of the situation. It's true they fear humans. They punished Prometheus for inventing fire! They gave the Pandora's box to Pandora via Hermes and Epimethius ! ) Anyway, the curse was that Narcissus could love none but himself. That he would insanely fall in love with himself. The retard that he already is, he went to wash his face immediately in a pond nearby. He saw his reflection in water, and fell insanely in love with it. He kept looking at it all the time, not even pausing to eat or drink.

Echo, when she came to know of this, had her already broken heart shattered. She came to see him. She even tried showing her bosom to him. Yet, the retard kept looking at himself and loving himself.

She ran away again, and never stopped till she lost her material body and became just the sound, the reflection of other sounds, the 2d=vt , the echo today.
About Narcissus, he withered and withered due to his lack of food and all, and soon transformed himself into a flowering plant who's flower, his face, still gapes at its reflection in the water nearby 24X7..... X52.....

Now, you are aware of what is intended by narcissus- One who is madly in love with himself.

Signing off as for now,
Sethu.

2009-10-19T12:21:00.003+05:30

The Crazy world....

Oh my god- I'm feeling insane right now... I know what you're thinking-but its not the diwali crackers...

I'll give you a piece of my mind right now-just to make you believe-

I'm wishing the world was not round anymore........

I don't know where it all began so I can't tell you about it in the chronological order[whatever that is...]

okay... I saw a close friend of mine at Facebook- wondering what ,if the speed of light was 300000 m/s,was the speed of dark!Another friend of mine at Facebook says he's struck by the cruel realization that he's never taller than his hair!!! While trying to study Shakespeare's play Macbeth for the exam, I come across some notes telling me that Elizabethans related gilding of gold to smearing with blood because[as it's said] gold can be related to blood probably(?) because it had Copper in it!!!

Also, two days before I had the occasion to hear one of my tuition masters telling us that Germans eat a lot of food because they kind of developed this gene- which makes them want to eat as much as possible - during the economic breakdown that followed the first world war in Germany!! He also believes that ink running out in his white board marker is indicative of some students not having paid his fees....

Also I came across this teacher last Friday, who explained to me that the angle of repose of friction is termed angle of repose because the inclined plane is paused at that point where the body is starting to slide down.

Then there is this friend of mine who believes he had teeth and hair since he was born. And I have another classmate who believes that the cutest girl at the tuition center is having a crush on him as she keeps gazing at him [ just because he happened to be an obstruction between her and the board.]

I should also mention another friend of mine who intends to establish [or has established?] a firm by the name Kala Varkey Pal incorporated private limited. Not to mention this other friend that I have who insists that whenever a piglet gets cut, it eats it because it has now become an edible cutlet!!!!!!!!

If you thought that was all, think again- 'cause there is more coming-

There is this teacher who coaches us for the entrance examinations who insists that the most prominent questions to come for the IIT-JEE etc. are of the type:

"If A is a body resting on another body B which is on a smooth horizontal surface, and the coefficient of friction between the two bodies is equal to 0.3; and B gets pushed by a force of 10 newtons; analyze their motion and determine who will be happy?

a) A b) B c) both of these d)none of these

Also, I am told of another prominent tuition teacher in our city who discovered that the main difference between primates and non-primate mammals is the critical positioning of the mammary glands- for all non-primates they are between the hind limbs but for primates they are between the forelimbs!!!

Then there is this friend of mine who exclaimed on seeing my new watch

"Wow mate-this is just like the one my father has", and continued "except the dial and frames I guess.Yes, also the strap is a different kind." I was left wondering what other parts did a watch have[The minute & the hour hand maybe?- but that would really mean the watches are similar, no?]

Ah, yes of course, I also had the honor to hear another one of my classmates who believes that the state governor signs the Indian rupee notes and that there is no such thing as an RBI governor. Oh, I have this other friend who believes that Dinosaurs never existed at all.He also agrees that 1 kg iron has more mass than 1 kg paper.

It is on such an environment filled with insanities that I put the blame on for inducting me too into "club insane." And now tell me, is it still such a great sin- such an insanity- to wish the world was not round anymore- to wish to live in a pre-Copernican, pre-Galilean life full of superstitions nonetheless lesser insane than today?

PS: I succumbed to the cruel realization that now I am also a member of the club insane at the time when the night before yesterday- when I was cracking firecrackers with the light from an agarbathi since it was diwali, and then I lighted a cracker and threw away the agarbathi instead of the cracker-resulting in a left hand that shockingly survived a mild explosion between its fingers.......

PPS:The author wishes and hopes to maintain peace with all those whom he has knowingly or unknowingly tried to iron down...

2009-10-09T22:16:00.001+05:30

Change!

Have you ever noticed that all that exits around you is never constant?
Have you noticed that all that occurs around you , inside you and even outside you or even beside you is nothing but change ?

what?
You have?
Really?
Sure?
......
.
..
...
....

OK! Thank you very much!
the author deep heartedly acknowledges and appreciates your excellent observation skills and mental prodigy!!!!

Now kindly GET YOUR ASS OFF THIS PLACE.....

also thank you and have a nice day.....
.
..
...
....
Oh hi!
What would you want?
I see... you have not what the other one had..???.....
Okay. I shall converse further .......

As I was about to say.... you see, all that is constant in this world is change[what a paradox!]....
All that happens-well, is change.

All that did happen- was change....
All that does happen- is change......
And All that will happen are change...

All that we ever notice is change. Have we ever any interest on any ordinary event, which is happening as ordinarily as it ordinarily ever was? Can't think so.[ If you feel to differ, remember kindly what happened to the other reader ...]

Just try imagining a film, a book, a dream, or at least a thought, which is not special in any kind of way- with no change in it at all....
Every little second and nanosecond and even every shake,[smallest unit of time that the author is aware of- 1 shake = ten to the power minus eight seconds] passes full of change. Time itself becomes the rate of change of change.....

Thinking of all this, the author came uo with the hypothesis that there is no such thing as constant or normal or ordinary or the best other alternative for the opposite of change.No? you really can't say so?
If you have anything to add or subtract to these kindly use the comments option below....

But on retrospecting, the authoe feels it more plausible to picture change and its opposite like force and inertia. Nothing happenes when we are in inertia. Stuff happens[often shit happens- well but that's worth another article..] when there is an acceleration - when there is a change....

Okay. Enough with theorizing... now : picture this: our entire universe[easy enough to picturise I guess...].
There are umpteen positions from umpteen frames of reference at any instance in time, space or- what to say- at any instant of any parameter.We can see change always. In short, our universe is changing- universally, and constantly- once again assuring the truth in the paradox that the only thing constant is change...

The author now abruptly concludes on realization of the myth that is called the constant or the inertia and expects the reader to be enlightened soon too- or rather, wishes it so.
[In short, I've wasted enough time babbling...]

PS: Piss off !!!!

2009-09-23T17:06:00.006+05:30

WARNING: this article contains usage of sexually explicit words- repeatedly- so please, if you are under aged please turn back at once.

exit here

THIS ARTCLE HAS BEEN CLASSIFIED AS PG 7.

PARENTAL GUIDANCE IS STRICTLY ADVISED.

Asleep at the Tuition Class

Tic toc - the clock is ticking

Fuck man- this is not working

Shit box- that is what I'm getting

Eyes are droopy.

Pen gets slippery.

Brain is flickering

In and out of wake

What the fuck do you think I'm doing?

Where the hell do you think I'm sitting?

Pissed a lot by the old man's glare ,

Here am I, at the tuition master's den

Trying to fight my sleep

By penning the shit

That comes into mind

While trying to concentrate

(On staying awake!)

When he says "Ask your doubts!"

I feel asking "Shall I quit?"

Since as he says "This is x,"

All I can think about is sex!

2009-09-06T02:19:00.022+05:30

Some more to
say about tuition classes....

Its another Tuesday morning and as the double effect of mom's repeated calls and the constant reiteration of the alarm wakes an irritated young sixteen year old at 4 am, he slowly slides down his bed; angry for the lost three and a half hours of sleep and walks towards the closest object fit to be slept on - the sofa. But to his utter dismay, he finds his mom's angry face between him and the sofa and disdainfully changes his destination to the washbasin - a place where lots of cold water, a toothbrush and some toothpaste awaits him..... "Tuesday mornings," he remembers ,"used to be better. Last year it was only at 5.30... and now it is 5 o' clock sharp.... Fuck the idiot who invented tuitions..... " and pushed the brush between his jaws and the lip.

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Our hero(obviously that is me. And as I myself am here writing about myself, I believe it not to be such a great sin to exhilarate my personality a little bit- in short, call me hero! ) is now fast asleep at the end seat of the auto rickshaw that transports him and three of his colleagues to the tuition center , braving the utter cold gust that blows against him.

Let us now study his colleagues one by one...

1) sid- he is one of the buji type who really deserve to go to such hideous places in search of abounding knowledge that helps you cross the entrance examinations that await them two years hence. (Such a conclusion made on the ground of experiments like where the subject shows interest towards completing even the umpteenth question of the umpteenth assignment given even though the tuition master is sure not to check it etc..... for more experiments and results contact the author.)

2)pappu- he is the happy-go-lucky type who is totally not interested in even why they are going or for what they are going. To him only the other gender is what matters... he is at present singing out loud a popular romantic melody to the ever so vacant streets through which they pass as though the cold air and the unopened stalls were his lovers....

3)sadu- he is the mediocre type who stands between the above two. He has ambition and desperately wishes himself a good rank in the entrance exams but is not seriously interested in striving hard for it... he is at present trying to invent another excuse for not doing the homework.(note that he is the only one who is worried about this as sid has obviously done his work and the other two are content with standing outside for not having done it.)

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Now we see our hero stepping out of the auto along with the others and fumbling with his purse to contribute his share of money required to pay off the auto driver. A short walk from the road to the tuition center ,through an often narrow and dark alley is a characteristic of most of the tuition classes in town.It is often while on this walk that he ponders as to what all might he encounter today during the two-and-a-half-hours within the four walls of the tuition master's den.

The tuition center is easily identifiable from here as the sole source of light (often at the very edge too...) of the pitch black alley. The alley itself is rather creepy in the sense that all one can see during this half hour before the tuition class starts would be dark silhouetted figures moving uniformly in one direction-towards that point of light in a creepily monotonous manner reminding you of some scene from midnight ghost movies where zombies walk towards disruption point, etc.[you get the point right?--that its creepy?? :o ]

We watch him as he walks past the gate, removes his shoes and climbs up the metal staircase that leads to the tuition master's den, his complex facial expression - a resultant of sleepiness and disdain - all the while becoming more and more fervid.

The tuition master is an extremely old and fragile man- old as old could be and fragile as even fragile could not be- life in him seen only through the glint in his eyes- eyes which glow with the thirst to pour out his knowledge and thus to guide some students to success( and to guide a lot more to confusion and even mild torture) for two-and-a-half non-stop hours.

Our hero(me, of course) always tries to find his seat in the second or third last bench, preferably under the fan, comfortable for sleep. He often prefers sitting next to those of sadu's nature (mentioned above).Sitting next to such has more than one advantages:

Firstly, they don't sleep in the class but at the same time understands your deep rooted feelings and are supportive of it. That is, they provide the vital jerk during your struggle to win back some of the lost sleep, which is the signal that you and your sleep are coming within the tuition master's range of vision and it is time for you to open your eyes a little bit and to nod your head vigorously and also try to assume a serious expression in order to tackle the glance.

Secondly, though they are not as talented as the bujis, they do know something about the topic and more importantly, does not object to xeroxing their entire working out (like of an equation) into our so-called "tuition note".(which is often to be assembled from the back side of various note books and one other note book titled "tuition note" with relatively less content along with notes of something else at the back.)

Thirdly, due to reasons already mentioned, if we are caught by the tuition master despite our friend's warning jerk(which also happens often), he helps you by whispering the answer to the tuition master's question (at least what he thinks it is!)

Now; as to what is being taught, there are various opinions ranging from "what is the value of sin 67.5 degrees to how to slam dung from a bullock cart and what role does or does not the non-inertial frame of reference do to this action and its reaction provided that acceleration a is 3.0709 m/second squared also taking into consideration the fact that Newtons laws of motion only holds for inertial frames of reference ...(phew! try saying that in one breath.)It has only been agreed that what is taught there is "complex stuff"....

Also, the author does not believe in lullabies and is of the opinion that sleep, however well you can expand it, comes at morning tuitions sheerly out of having nothing else interesting to do, with all the extremely uninteresting stuff going on around you and also out of desperation to catch-up with the lost three-and-a-half hours of peaceful unintercepted sleep....

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The entire scenario changes as the tuition master signals the end of that day's class. Boys and girls start pouring out of his den in more cheerful and brighter moods, totally unlike their own selves who walked up the alley monotonously like zombies. Even the alley changes from pitch black & cold to bright & warm from the morning sun, and the earlier silence replaced by non-stop chattering of the teenagers walking out...

The crowd disperses itself soon enough into cars that come to pick them up or into big and small groups of boys which drift noisily towards bus stops or some nearby hotels --- only to enjoy the short lived gap before the series of unwanted incidents come back at you again- only lesser in magnitude -- at school.