The "****" effect

My followers(who sum up to grand total of 3 including myself), have been seriously depraved of reading some really good stuff on my blog for the last month or two. This owing to my fantastically elongated examination period, which by the way stretches for 27 days to accommodate 5 papers.
As I unleash this here post, I still have two more papers to worry about, but my blog deserves some attention I guess. So here I am, at the very beginning of a new year, writing about certain arbit things, which I'm sure, no one is interested in knowing.
Most people plunge head first into the world of "New Year resolutions". That world I believe, runs on a parallel time dimension, where time destroys everything in a week or two. If you're exceptionally strong in the head, I'll give you a month. Not longer though.
I for one don't make any resolutions. Yet amazingly, this year, I find myself embarking on a self improvement spree. The reason for this spree, my dear readers, is a certain special, omnipotent, all knowing, ever-lasting effect.
The effect is patented and owned by a person, who unfortunately hasn't yet given me rights to use the name. So we shall have to suffice by saying that it is THE "****" EFFECT.
The special parts about this effect are, it does not work on anyone except me. Also, the rewards on offer for improving one self under the influence of this magical effect are truly "out-of-this-world". I simply write all this so that one day when I'm awesomely improved, I can look back and remind myself of how it all started.
Point noted. Effect sucked.

Passing thought

Slumdog Millionaire. The new movie everyone's raving about. Probably deservedly so(because I haven't seen the movie and am in no position to judge it). It talks about a slum kid who appears on Kaun Banega Crorepati and wins the show.
But my point is not the book, nor it's premise.
When I read stuff about this book, it's the way people say the slums and the poverty and the sheer apathy shown in the movie/written in books such as Maximum City, Slumdog Millionaire etc is the "REAL INDIA".
I agree totally when you point out that India has slums, poverty and more than it's fair share of unscrupulous people, but in compensation, India also has brilliant infrastructure, a strong foundation of education, India has some amazing cities and beautiful sights and historic places.
What I mean to say is, you cannot simply magnify a singular part of an entity and identify it with that single attribute. The "REAL INDIA", is the sum of it's parts. It is an amalgamation of villages, slums, towns and cities. Of poverty, mediocrity, riches and more. Just like you cannot say for example that New York City is the "REAL AMERICA" or for that matter that Eastern Europe is the "REAL EUROPE".
Examples taken are purely those that spring to my mind immediately and may or may not appear relevant or conclusive to you.
But the message I wish to convey is, India is more than just the sum of it's parts. When even the sum of it's parts cannot completely depict India, how can you try to summarize our country in a single strata of society.
Peace.

Ad infinitum

I head into my end of semester exams in about a fortnight's time, and all that my acquaintances ask me is how much progress I have made with my syllabus.
As a rule, during the preparatory leaves, I lead a totally unsocial life. This includes not stepping out of my house for days on end. I love being holed up without being in touch with anyone. Some people do stay in touch, somehow or the other(curse mobile communications) but that I tolerate more as a formality.
What I hate most about mobile communications is messaging. I hate messaging. I prefer calls anyday, but there is a distinguished class of the public who are too busy to pick up calls or do not attend to calls and hence as a direct consequence, you have to message them. I am now looking for a cell phone that does not have the "sms/mms/ems" functions. Sort of like a reverse pager.(A pager was a phone without calls and facilitated reading of messages for the uninitiated).
But sometimes messaging does help.(very rarely)
I also happen to know that none of the people who are referred to in the above post, will have the inclination to read a blog, hence the freedom with which i unleash ab imo pectore.
The consequence of this being that I have now become a long haired pillock with an untamed stubble who has no love of civilisation. Indirectly, you can say I've become something of a caveman albeit without the trademark sexual urges and lack of hygiene.
The effect that the P.L has on me is amazing, I am a different person when I have college to attend though I must admit, I prefer the P.L version of me.
As and when I find a mobile with the features I so crave, I shall be kind enough to post a picture of the same on this here page.
Peace.

Wordplay

Wordplay is amazing. Have you ever noticed how there are a lot of words which basically mean the same, yet, when used in place of one another, do not give you the same idea.
Let me cite an example:
When a person loves jazz music, you can call him a "Jazz Aficionado".
At the same time, you cannot call a person who loves metal, a "Metal Aficionado".
Makes him sound like a pussy. Metalhead is a more accurate description.

Many more may spring to your mind. Leave your ideas in the comments.
Peace.

Mind Maze

The human mind seems to be very fickle. Please note, I say seems to be very fickle, and not is very fickle.
There is a pronounced difference between the two statements. To the untrained, unharnessed mind, there may be no visible difference between the two. But, the fact here is that, the large droves of humans that inhabit the earth, have absolutely no control over their minds or their egos.
To judge every situation, every person without any strings attached, that is, to take one's ego out of the equation, and to assess every situation unemotionally.
A calm and non-partisan overview at everything of consequence.
It is essential to analyze each and everything that comes to one's attention. It leads to a greater awareness of oneself and of the supreme truth.
The supreme truth being that, you cannot gain wisdom reading a random blog by an arbit Assclown and expect to become the next messiah for mankind. And anyways, if I had any idea how to do all the said stuff, I wouldn't be writing shite posts on my not-so-popular blog would I?
Perhaps that's the reason we're still human, and why you're still reading my blog instead of getting the f**k out of here and continuing your search for the supreme truth. My guess is you'll most likely find it here.
Thank you for wasting your delightfully useless time trying to make sense out of this piece of typing practise.
Yours truly.

The dynamics of a Bhok

We all have a lot of cliche's attributed to us at some point in our life(OK, not a lot, but considering that I'm an amazing motormouth, I do). I'm guilty of bringing a lot of innocuous, ignored words, into daily use of a lot of people(read the crowd in my college) with amazing interpretations.
One such word is Bhok.
So let me embark on my theory, and explain my premise and my philosophy.
The world, my dear readers, is a huge, never-ending, deep, drawing, unquenchable void. We are all pulled into it at some point of time and strive throughout our lives to condemn our worries and problems(sometimes even people) to this void. This void, is THE BHOK.

We live our lives, enchanted, at times ensnared by the Bhok. Always inquisitive, always attracted by it's magical ways, awestruck by it's magnanimous presence.

Now I explain to the rational mind:
In technical terms, the Bhok is a Stack. All our worries are pushed to the Bhok. The only catch here is that, this Bhok stack doesn't come with a pop operation. The push function is called by saying aloud "Bhokat".

• The Bhok doesn't need typecasting. It is flexible and can contain any worry type.
• The Bhok is universally public and can be called from any place, anytime.
• The Bhok is universally inherited and can be called by anyone in need.
• The Bhok is indestructible, by deletion, destruction, uninstallation or what you may.

The Bhok is the singularity that engulfs us all and pervades our existence. It existed when nothing else did and will continue to exist when everything else ceases. A Bhok is the logical analogy of a gravitational Black Hole. Only difference being:

Bhok >>>> Black Hole

Period.

I have devoted my life towards a greater understanding of this amazingly awesome colossal figure which is not just a beacon of hope but an entire 12000kw floodlight of hope for the distressed and forlorn.

May the Bhok be with you!

\m/

Pedophobia

NOTE: Title says pedoPHOBIA not pedoPHILIA you perverted jerk!!!

Have you ever noticed how kids seem to get on your nerves, no matter how tiny they are in comparison to you. Kids (though not all of them) are amazingly, awe-inspiringly irritating.

Kids seem to come in different types. I could just forgive you for thinking that it's the pampered baby-elephant types who manage to take the piss out of you. Trust me, it's the scrawny ones that take the mickey outta me.

At this very moment, as I type these here sentences, the scrawny bugger is standing right next to me, watching intently at every word I type, not able to decipher shit(though I'm sure the stuff I type is not encrypted). This bairn here must be about 5 years old, but I'm pretty sure, he could successfully make an elephant shit in frustration. (no hyperbole).

It's the first time he's visited, Dad's C.A's son by the look of it. And somehow, my mom thinks the twirp is cute and oh so nice. Their parents think they're the greatest creation the almighty has blessed them with. /*Content edited due to fear of parents */. I'd rather not get into details, but I'm pretty sure this must have been the case(amazed at own imagination and sits with a proud smirk on his face).

These twirps follow some universal law of inverse proportion.

Size of twirp is inversely proportional to irritation quotient.

Smaller the twirp, the worse, with absolutely no language in common, he can still strike up a conversation with you, and having passed my grunt age 18 years ago, I can make nor head nor tail of what this guy is saying.

And these twirps always have to be the guys. Small girls don't talk to 20 year old part uncle/part bhaiyya looking dudes.

But the brighter side is, this twirp gets excited every time I switch over to the Goal.com website.
So I guess testosterone runs in his blood long before his balls are fully functional.

I'd call this twirp a young dude, but some one's warned me not to go around calling random guys dudes. I doubt that person will ever read my blog, but you never know.

If you've been troubled by young shitler's ever, pointers on how to piss them off will be appreciated. Leave a comment.

P.S: I found a way to piss the twirp off, I started writing my journals, this guy hung around for 2 minutes, before he realised that I was writing. Amazing how Sophophobia kicks in at such an early age in us guys eh? I'm perfectly sure, a small li'l girl would love to write and draw and (shudders at his own thought) .....you get the point.

He just turned his gross ass and left my vicinity and kept his distance(Must have thought I'm one of those nerdy types, Not to say I care). If it keeps him away, that's good enough for me.

P.S: This jerk has an awesome IQ, I admire and toally dig this dude