Monday, January 28, 2008

Surreal But True

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.
- Khalil Gibran

I know there is always something that touches people, makes the right connection, and gets things working. There is something that goes deep inside the heart, tells them what they like to hear, and overwhelms them with bliss. The more I can get to say such words, the better relationships I can have with everybody around me. On contrary to what I wrote yesterday, after talking and thinking, I somehow came to an understanding that there are two friends I think and talk to. I can narrow on these two names not considering several of my friends who are just friends.

I get a lot of time these days to thinking about my friends – each of them in detail - and some in lesser detail because I have already given a lot of thoughts to them. It was today when I was talking to a friend that I realized more on how I can never be same with all those around me. We spoke in great depths. I felt bad about a few things. I felt great about others he said about. I somehow wish I could write everything here but that won’t be a part of my premise. I still wish there could be a source from where I could derive all the wisdom and make more sense out of what all I think.

I know my parents would be with me and for me always, but it’s the friends I am worried about. I sometimes wonder if I could do something for them, something unusual, something immaterial, and something to make them very happy, and let them remember that happiness forever. I know it won’t be possible for them to remember me always, but happiness stays in the heart. I just want to leave a mark before I leave them. We might then never be meeting even after the eternity ends.

I simply can’t believe that these people are not going to be with me a few months from now. It looks like so impossible and unbelievable. It looks like those nightmares our parents told us would never come true. But they are just here around the corner. I love them. I cannot see living through the farewell times. I wish I could tell them I love them. I wish I could prove it; prove it to each of them; then leave. Just the satisfaction I would get after letting them know about my love for them would be an answer to my love. I would need nothing else in return.

But our being of the individuals we are doesn’t help me even a bit. It makes shields and creates limits. I sometimes think if I could be so neutral that I can say what all I have to and keep the goodwill alive. I still cannot believe that there could be some people called as friends who can have sincere concerns for me. Whenever somebody is nice to me, I just feel like crying. Even if it is my parents. Sometimes I get an immeasurable desire to thank all of them. Sometimes I just want to say a sorry to them. I can’t do it because I cannot put the reasons in words.

There is a friend from college who makes me thinks so much. Though we got close enough I always wished we were closer. But that inherently is not possible. If selfishness can indeed be taken as a virtue, I am selfish and for that reason I cannot get much closer. I use this phrase a lot “I wish I had the right words to”. I use it again. I wish I had the right words to let my friend know about the irrefutable respect and regards I have for that friend. I hope I at least give a higher level of happiness to that friend at least once before we take our ways. Perhaps that friend is the only one I can spend any amount of time without speaking a single word. But that is unnecessary.

I had mango ice cream a few hours back and I can feel a mangled throat already. There is a slight pain which I am sure would grow if I don’t take some medication immediately. The picture I have put up here was designed by a classmate of mine for the upcoming technical fest we are planning to organize in our college. We have a long way to go before we can see it come alive. The distance between happiness and reality seems so less that I am worried if I would get used to being happy. Only if I could put the right size of praise for Allah in words; I wish I could hold His hands and let Him take away my life in return of what all He has given me.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

A Best Friend!

Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions.
- David Borenstein

Yesterday when I thought to myself that it was time to get matured and behave matured, I just knew that there were umpteen number of times I had said that to myself. There are sets of things I tell myself almost daily and only a part of them gets materialised. Then of course there are things I love thinking and imagining! I cannot mention even one of them but I can bet on the fact that everybody enjoys them. No doubt our brain is our best entertainer. This way I never get bored too.

At times I don't get to understand if the conflicts I get within after talking to my friends are justified and rational or just useless. Yesterday, for example, I had two of my friends at my house till 3:30 am and we spoke about some very interesting and important topics. No doubt any person knowing me and those two friends would guess what we must have spoken about. I was perhaps the one doing most of the talking - it has in a way become my expertise. After they left, I had this luxury to tell myself that I must grow. But growing up in the terms I told myself meant that I stopped talking! It goes round and round in circles.

There was a time when I used to think of what my friends would think on anything I would tell. Now sometimes I do and sometimes I don't because that very word, friend, is supposed to give me the freedom of being myself. I am sure by now my friends must have seen the avoidable things in me. I have seen some in them too. And I have loved them more for these rather than the good they possess! And while I write all this, the questions "what am I writing?" and "why am I writing it?" are asking for answers.

Being random and carefree is easy. Nothing I do or write would then ever make any sense and I will not have to answer anybody. But when I start constructing myself and my behavior on a premise, the restlessness starts. The internal conflict, the validity and the necessity of things I speak, the beliefs I share, the things I tell my friends when I am teasing them or perhaps sometimes flirting with them, the limits and boundaries my friends have set before themselves and the ones I have created around me, the desire to be close to them but the differences in ideals that come up, the differences in the very being that comes up, the need to tell them how sacred they are yet the fear of being called dumb and silly or perhaps over-emotional - all this can be left as passing thoughts but when I try to give them time, I end up worrying if all I am being an overly excited dumb who gets too emotional.

But there is of course some happiness of knowing that there are more odds of me being called dumb than being called as a good friend. And when I mention 'friend', it also defines my relations with my brother, cousins and even parents. No doubt it starts with those friends who don't share common DNA patters with mine because they are the ones I talk the most to. I sometimes wonder what they think when they hear me telling them all the weightless things. If I were them, I would laugh at me, ridicule me, and call me a sticky substance that refuses to become smooth. Things circling; I did mention the word 'conflict'. Didn't I?

Criticising myself gives some happiness to me. There, of course, is always a thought that it could bring some sympathy from some corners and create some in some other corners! There is pleasure in calling ones own-self a fool - just because when a person calls himself a fool, nobody does that to him! But I don't know what I can do with sympathy. So, I don't ask for it. I don't even have to do things to impress or please my friends. I feel like shouting it aloud - "I need not do even a bit to impress or please my friends". They are already my friends.

Now, that should be enough of self-talk I can publish here. I woke up after 2 pm today. There was a short 'staying-awake' session around 11 am after which I was again under the blanket. Because I was 'chit-chatting' with my friends till early morning, I went to sleep after 4 am. Yesterday I met a senior with some friends and we were there to discuss a technical festival we are planning at our college in the department. Then later yesterday I spent some good time with two cousins. We were first flying kites, then went to some places on one bike, then took a car and went to meet more cousins! It was all fantastic till I felt tired late in the night. But my enthusiasm to have friends around kept me burning whatever fat I have inside me. Not to mention my weight right now. Though I do not know what exactly it is, I can be sure that it is the lowest I have felt in some years. Obviously I was lighter when I was a kid. That should be it for today!

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Not Picturesque

I've been on a diet every day since I was nineteen, which basically means I've been hungry for a decade. I've had a series of not nice boyfriends, one of whom hit me. Ah, and every time I get my heart broken, the newspapers splash it about as though it's entertainment. And it's taken two rather painful operations to get me looking like this.
- Anna Scott, Notting Hill

I remember this picnic with my family and relatives which was probably 8 to 10 years back. We had a medium-sized bus hired for ourselves for the trip and we were on our return journey. Everybody was tired and the music played was shutdown so that they could relax. After laughing and keeping myself animated for several hours I had seated myself at the center of the last seat in the vehicle. I still have the memories of this scene fresh. I was letting my eye sight cut through all the seats and stare at windscreen and the horizon that lay beyond it. There was an orange sun that was not painful on my eyes. The road was straight in the direction of it and there were some shrubs on the left side of the road making up for a boulevard. I cannot recollect what lay on the other line of that road. I wanted that journey to never end. I had all my cousins with me, my parents and many uncles and aunts who didn't stay in India at that time. I was in love with the time I was experiencing. But there was a fear in my heart - I knew the journey was short-lived and it would end in some time.

From that day to today, I have lived many such journeys. Perhaps I have seen such things before that day too, but I don't remember. I fell in love with the journeys time to time until I finally learnt not to get carried away by the journey. The lesson more important than this - I learnt that if I am not in love with the destination, I am bound to find some affection towards the journey. I met quite a few people on the way. There are those who had to leave me. There are those I thought would stay with me - if not all my life, but at least for some more time - but didn't. There are those I desperately wanted to show love towards. Then there are those I never thought would ever be with me and become my loved ones - many of these presently make my life beautiful. I would never keep them as a part of my journey. They are apparently a part of me.

There were several instances today that made me take a pause from apparent visualisations through eyes. The last one was just sometime back when there was music ringing in my ears, I was staring at the surface on my table rubbing my finger on it but none of this was in my mind. I was lost in some thinking, or dreaming - if that describes it better, or perhaps pondering. But I cannot recollect what it was that took me away from reality. At time I can't believe how silent I become given that I don't find many people who talk as much as I do. The whole idea of living satisfied has mesmerised me. These days I am having the best times of my life ever. I had not even remotely imagined that I would be so close and friendly with some people I had only heard of three years back.

When I crossed the 400th mark as the number of posts on this blog, I began wondering if I was random in what I wrote all the time and if I can be good enough if I continue. There was something that made me feel a bit disappointed. On several occasions I was not able to convey the right messages in the right way. This comes as an understanding that there were some posts I wanted to be appreciated for; I wanted to be said that what I had written was good; I wanted to hear some comments on them, if not praise, but at least some critique maybe. But I have never been random with what I wrote all these months. Everything was linked. Perhaps it's only because I have written all of it, it is only I who can understand what it is. I don't know how the readers take it; I cannot see my blogs from any different perspective. Then I realized that I need to be independent - independent of what I am writing, keep things connected, write for my satisfaction and not for comments or appreciation. Perhaps this is understanding of maturity in its lowest form. It also perhaps comes as a part of learning how to become emotionally independent and never have dependency issues. And perhaps it is also an indication of how I need self-appreciation and not affirmations from others. I mean only what I have written here for this moment. There are no hidden meaning to this; I am not asking for comments.

My father today asked me today about making a blog. He said he wanted to write one by himself. I liked the idea but my brother didn't. That was because yesterday my brother looked at some old pictures of my father and said that he appeared like those extra characters who are on villain's side in typical Hindi movies. Some days back my brother said that my father looked like a patient when he was wearing an old night-suit. My father enjoys these discussions and we have a lot of fun talking about them. So my father said he would write a blog and let everybody know. I said I would do the publicity and we can guarantee many visitors.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008


Marriage is the promise of eternal love. As a man of honor I cannot promise eternally what I've never felt momentarily.
- Leopold, Kate And Leopold

There come some occasions when we see that there is no light at the end of the tunnel we are in and that there is no way we could turn around or even light a matchstick. Then without giving us even a second, the whole world suddenly looks illuminated and beautiful. But the darkness doesn't go away without making any change. It leaves it marks, reasons and lessons. Apart from what all we can personally draw from that darkness, there is something explained to us as a whole: nothing lasts forever.

Yesterday we celebrated birthdays of two friends. We have been postponing the celebration for long now and it was time to have some fun finally. It was a 'three-course' celebration - we first met at a mall, then went to a restaurant and to another place where the gifts where handed over. Then later I went to a friend's house and returned home late. That was just to see that none of my parents had arrived. Around 8 pm I went to bed to take a nap. I was bugged by some terrible dream like things! I don't know exactly how I was feeling but it wasn't good. I got out at 9 pm, had my dinner at 10, and slept after 3 am - the routine.

I wanted to finish watching 'Godfather' at the earliest and see 'Just My Luck'. I have already cleared a lot of space after deleting those I have watched last week and I am hoping to get a new 'lot'. I have developed new tastes and likes. In fact I have even found a name which I can say when asked about my favourite actress! I had never imagined myself coming to this kind of liking - I had always felt proud for not having such kind of likes. But I am fine with it now.

Monday, January 21, 2008


We are not courting, Kate. If we were, as a man of honour, I would have informed you of my intentions in writing.
-Leopold, Kate And Leopold

It's one year since the death of my grandfather. It was 20th of January, a Saturday. Though we have moved on, there is nothing really that tastes good when I go to his house to meet my grandmother. I might never be able to get over his loss. I might just remain normal. The pain I saw from his death was more than all the pain I saw in my life yet. It was slow and it was terrible. Crying couldn't define it - it's too small an emotion. A few tears moisten the eyes every now-and-then. And things continue. I have no courage and strength to visit his grave.

On Saturday I was at my grandmother's house play cricket with my uncle and brother inside the house's compound when I raised my right hand to throw the ball at my uncle who was batting at the other end of the narrow veranda. I did the raising with considerable force and the old tin sheet sheltering the small room behind the place I was standing chipped of a piece of my skin. I felt immediate pain. The first glance showed only a white but deep spot on my middle finger and I thought it was my bone. Then blood appeared as if seeping out through the spores of a think white paper from beneath; as if writing on that paper that it was not bone; as if the whole was being written at once from below the surface; then, as if the whole paper was blotted in red - a color appearing from beneath.

I ran to the nearby tap and held my hand under a gushing flow of water. My other hand of hitting the air in jerks as if that was going to reduce the pain and burning. My feet were tapping to let the earth know that I was facing all the pain in the world. My brother was laughing at me and my uncle had a bottle of spirit with him by then. I refused the treatment for I knew it would bring tears to my eyes. I considered using some bandage. I reminded myself of the packet of tissues lying on a table back home as I used cotton to wipe of the oozing blood. 10 minutes later I was batting and hitting the ball as hard as possible.

All the while I was batting, I was afraid of getting hurt again. I was turning away from rising balls and moving my head back whenever the ball spun more than expected. The rubber ball touched the wound twice but I was by the used to the sensation. My brother had a mischievous intentioned in his eyes when I saw him telling my mother that I should take a tetanus injection. His face looked concerned but his eyes were laughing at me. I somehow escaped the injection thing.

The movies I watched after the last post were 'A Walk To Remember' and 'Kate And Leopold'. I also watched a part of 'Godfather'. 'A Walk To Remember' made me cry. That was for the first time a movie made me cry. I had tears even after it was over. It always makes me feel refined and mentally clean after I spend time in seriousness and tears and then something enlightens me and makes everything look beautiful. I had a similar thing in the evening too after I reached home from my friends' birthday party. I also wanted to spend some time with my parents, but that didn't happen. I tried to take a nap but that too was disturbed. But there are wonderful people all around me. I just have to talk to them and everything becomes great and back to normal.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

The Internet

Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, not small, but valuable. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.
- Kathleen Kelly,You've Got Mail

Its 12:24 am here now and more than 10 days since I last updated the blog. And as long as I intend to continue updating, I find no compulsion to give a reason why I should write paragraphs on what kept me from updating. It always makes me feel powerful whenever I say that I am not going to give any explanations for what I have done or perhaps for what I haven't done. It is presumably because nobody will ask me after reading such a thing; and it gives additional length to the post!

In this mean while I saw some good movies - 'Serendipity', 'You've Got Mail', 'When Harry Met Sally', 'Notting Hill' and 'National Treasure 2'. I still have a big list before I can get more space on my computer's hard-drive. Before I saw the first four of the movies I have mentioned above, I only used to like action flicks on some serious and fast ones like 'Da Vinci Code'. But after watching these, especially 'Serendipity' and 'Notting Hill', my whole perspective of romantic ones changed into apparently what I can term as 'sensible'! In fact my perception of this country called United States has also changed - the people there to be specific.

Saturday I experienced a totally new form of time - I had to select curtains for home. To start with my mother liked one which I couldn't like. I asked her to go ahead with it telling that it she, my father and brother who are going to live in the house! Then I liked one which she didn't like because it had black in it. Even till now I couldn't figure out what "not-so-good" the color black has in it. The final selection of course was my choice!

That Saturday I had also visited my paternal uncle's house in the morning. He keeps himself so busy that I literally had to take a kind of appointment from him before he could spend two hours with me discussing about our family and my further education. It started with a question I asked him about why my eldest uncle never visits India. There were reasons - starting from his nature from childhood, moving around his education in India, then his aeronautical engineering in France that costed him 90,000 franks in the early 1970's, the his job in a company named Thompson that dealt with radar systems, his marriage there, his two children, then his divorce, then his lonely life fully dependent on pension. It didn't make me feel good but the conclusion cleared me why my uncle would never come to India.

Then of course was a discussion about my father's maternal aunt who is a Saudi national and how she had been funding and sponsoring so many people inside and outside the family. I felt glad for being among the ones who never took her help; I can't write more on this as it usually turns out to be a sensitive topic. I respect those who have depended on her - it was necessary of that time of theirs'. I depend only on my parents and I intend to pay them back someday - indirectly if not directly.

Our talk revolved around money. We spoke about big amounts and we spoke about small amounts - all significant. I learnt a great deal of my family from him. I knew a lot from my father already but my uncle gave me reasons of things being that way. The best part of course is that everything is fine now and everybody is independent. But we are not supposed to forget our past, we don't have to live with it either, but we have to know where we belong to and what we are no matter where we go.

On Sunday night, with my parents and brother, I went to the annual industrial exhibition. We had to park our vehicle more than a kilometer from that place due to lack of parking in the vicinity. There was nothing much we had to buy there. My parents kept asking my brother and me if we wanted anything and all along our answer was the same "nothing". We walked around the same places the stalls several time - the objective was of being together and spending time. Alhamdulillah I have everything I need now. And I know how beautiful it is to see thing coming to us at the right times of our lives. My brother sees the same - he is already as mature as I am; apparently of course, but at times he looks more sensible than me!

Coming to walking, on Tuesday I walked from Banjara Hills to my house. It was a walk of more than 5 kilometers and took me around 45 minutes. I was totally out of energy and the one-hour sleep after reaching home brought me back to life. I had no specific reason to walk - I had burgers to take home and I didn't feel like boarding a bus. I had the option of hiring an auto rickshaw but I recollected that I didn't like them! I don't remember my 45 minute walk, I cannot recollect of how the path was, I was into some deep thinking when I reached home and saw the watch - it was satisfying and also tiring.

On Sunday after the walk through the famous 'numaish', we had dinner at a vegetarian restaurant. I cannot forget two thing I saw there - the way my father called the waiter "jango" and the way an elderly man was talking on a phone telling the other person that he was at a place more than five kilometers from where he was sitting. After the dinner there was this long walk through the empty streets of Nampally. It was all so wonderful. Saturday too we had a dinner outside. It was to celebrate my father's birthday. We had gone to a Chinese restaurant at Basheerbagh.

I scored 70% marks this semester. And as I say it always, I say it again - I was expecting more. I am perhaps presenting my answers in a way the examiner doesn't expect them to be. Perhaps my sentence structures are too complicated or I am using a vocabulary I am not supposed to be using. I feel good writing this but it is effecting my percentages. I remember the environmental studies paper which I had written so well and so perfectly - in my way of writing. I had given utmost care while using the words to make the answers look professional and classy. I scored lesser than the average in that! It's too later for me to realize all this. I have only three more theory exams to go.

And it was 85.7 percentile in CAT for me. I scored more than 90 percentile in the English section and that is the only thing that didn't surprise me - I was expecting it. But I was not expecting a percentile for more than 85. I have or perhaps I must say, I had a chance of getting calls from some colleges ranked in top-20 in India. But I had not applied to any of them. I did get many e-mails from many colleges which went unresponded. Yesterday I got a call from Career Launcher and they told me that I can attend the personality development classes and I will do that from next week.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

My Value Judgement

Contradictions do not exist. Whenever you think that you are facing a contradiction, check your premises. You will find that one of them is wrong.
- Ayn Rand (1905-1982)
A strange sense of discomfort remained in my heart all day asking me repeatedly why I was getting so lite and easy with almost everything I am hearing and saying. I have begun to feel that I am not thinking before talking and not even before writing. Being able to write as fast as I could speak sometimes is making things a little complicated in a way I am not able to understand. Some changes are hard to contain. I am joking a lot, playing a lot with ideals, looking at casual sides of everything and more poignancy, of course, lies in not thinking before talking. I intend to get corrective soon. I did hold back some words while I was with friends today but some of them could have been shared. There were others that could have been withheld as well.

But there was somewhere also a feeling that I can be carefree when I am with my friends. I have come a long way where I don't have to think what they would think - if they find something wrong they can always tell me and have it cleared. I am also afraid that they won't speak up fearing that I would mind. Nobody has ever called upon me for anything till now. It's all muffed up for me here.

Perhaps I am taking these trivial things too seriously but I have always believed that small intricacies make a lot of significance in the longer run. I have always tried to find one single person in whom I can trust with everything and have all faith. I have hoped to make one friend in whom I could confide with everything never thinking of what he or she would think. I have always visioned the company of an alter ego who too could have a similar trust in me - I would reciprocate the same way. I came close this way with four of my friends but an invisible magnet in the form of fear kept pulling me back. I know I would loose all of them someday. We have different objectives and different plans. I can trust with everything three of these four say. I can bet my life on all four of them. But I can't expect a trust from the time that refuses to stop or even slow down and give a chance to eternity.

I waited in the college for 50 minutes in the morning before a friend came and I could talk again. Another arrived in a short while. Very soon I had a cosy company with two more arriving. The lecturer concerned approved the topic I proposed to give a presentation on. He read the abstract and much to my expectation he enquired how I came across this topic. Cryptovirology is a subject of research in some universities in the United States and I found just enough information to fuel 15 to 20 minutes of talking. The only thing I forgot to ask my lecturer is the date of my seminar.

I wanted to be with my friends for as long as possible even while knowing that I am awaited by my grandmother. I wanted to meet her and talk to her too. A friend dropped me there just before 7 pm and I was there at her house till 8:30 pm which consisted of a nap. I was very tired. The moment I had reached there my mother asked me if I was using the car. I immediately recollected that she had asked me to take the car with me in the morning so that I could pick her up in the evening from my grandmother's house as my father had gone to a picnic. He managed to pick her up on his two-wheeler but my brother and I had to take the bus's route.

Things kept flashing in my mind - the images of the place I was sitting in the college, sitting alone first, then with only one friend, then with two, then with two more. Then I recollected my meet with some seniors, then the travelling on my friend's bike, then a short stop near a friend's house, then finally the bed at my grandmother's house on which I lay with my eyes closed. There were regrets all along - for laughing too much, for talking useless ideas, for not talking a few important things, for having to regret all this - and then there was finally a feeling of contentment of at least knowing what was going on with me. It's all so simple and clear. Alhamdulillah things are going fine and I am learning.

I sometimes wonder if "alter ego" is a myth. Then I have also wondered if having such a person in ones life is necessary. By the time I will reach an age of 30, I know there would be no burning need to love or to be loved. It will get into me as a way of life. By then I would be accepting what life was giving me and taking away. But all this only on the emotional requirements - by then I would be strong enough and will have learnt how to stay completely away from friends and at a distance from parents. I can then look back and clearly understand these present days when my emotional needs had to remain unrested. Sury we understand the present when it becomes past.

I always look back at my old days and laugh at myself. I recollect how I used to ask my parents why I shouldn't do so and so things for now I know the answers. Now I understand why my parents resented my frequent stays at my cousins' places. I understand that anything in excess cannot be handled easily. I also now understand why it is always wise to learn good even if I am in a bad milieu. I have learnt all these by myself and there were times I used to question the credibility of these ideas. They aren't ideas anymore. They have become ideals. I don't need a reason for my existence now. I don't have to ask the so called wise about why I am living. I don't have to search for meanings in my life. I only have to be myself and make myself good.

I look at the rows of seats in the bus as I look towards the windshield standing close to the rear end of the bus. I see two human beings sitting on each row, I see each row as a line, I see each line holding two lives, I see two lives I am never going to see again. Then I see the windscreen, then the driver in his seat, I see his movements, I see the responsibility he has, I see how well he accomplishes his tasks of navigating and maneuvering through the dense traffic. I see the traffic outside his cockpit, I see the volumes, the pain in the quantity, the trouble in the movements, the tension in every drop of sweat that dries unnoticed, I see the human beings and I feel love for all I see.

I love them all - my fellow human beings. I don't have to know them. It's not sympathy that makes me love them; it's just the feeling of being alike, just the feeling of being a part of a miracle called life. I can never hate a person for more than a day. And if I hate somebody for that amount of time, I know I will have deep regrets. No doubt I love my parents and put them with high priorities. Just that I love all that Allah has created. I can't hurt anything or anybody intentionally. And just that I am trying to learn not to expect such a love in return. And this is the reason my loves goes unexpressed; and for that there is no reason why it should be expressed.

I had a good meal at my grandmother's house. It had bagaara khaana, chicken 65 with gravy and daalcha. I will have another one in a short while now. It has been a good day to live today; even my brother enjoyed a halfday leave from his college for which the reason he gave was his brother's marriage. He was a bit angry with me when he learnt that I had deleted "Taarey Zameen Par" from the computer. This reminds me how weak I am at remembering the names of movies and actors. But I am growing! My life is beautiful. 36 hours more for Monday's morning. I complete 400 posts on this blog with this one today.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Let It Be

Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers.
-T. S. Eliot (1888-1965)

I finally finished the 'Bourne' and 'Ocean's' series today by watching 'Bourne Identity', 'Bourne Supremacy' and 'Ocean's Thirteen' within just 24 hours. I had finished watching their other flicks some days back. I was considering watching another before I sleep today but preparation of an abstract for a seminar at the college kept me busy. There aren't any big reasons for the blog not being updated - I was just spending time on college's work under MJ Computing Club. I hope it yields something good.

The computing club conducted two tests for our first year juniors on 2nd and 3rd. Not many of them turned up on the second day and it looks obvious on the first day itself given their faces at the end of the test. Yesterday before leaving the college we shortlisted 12 students for the final event to be conducted on Saturday. We plan to ask some faculty members to preside over the event and judge the participants. It would be a public speaking competition.

I went to college all days this week till now except Friday. On Wednesday I had to sit alone for more than an hour before my friends arrived. On Tuesday I was there alone for almost two hours and returned home. There were no classes going on. On Thursday a friend arrived just after I reached the college and saved my time giving me company. Till Wednesday I was forgetting to take any book with me to read but on Thursday I had one. Having friends around always feels better.