Daily regular borrriinnggg stuffs

Neighbour, girl and Christopher Nolan. 😑

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Exams, guys. 😑

That apart, I think I’ve run out of topics. From love to commode, I’ve touched upon every spectrum of life that seems worthy to be touched upon. Yeah, I haven’t written about crabs, or NASA’s ongoing endeavour to successfully pave the way for intergalactic meme exchanges, or GST, but you wouldn’t really care about those petty stuffs. I really don’t know what to write. At times, I want to write about neanderthals and slavery, but there’s no fun in that.

So let me shower upon you the daily regular monotonous stuffs of my life.

1. My neighbour lost his admit card. Almost.

Well, such things pretty regular when it comes to my neighbour. It is the first day of exam and he thinks, ‘oh well! There’s no reason why one should not have spring roll on the first day of his exam.’ So he goes to this little corner by the park, munches on some nice little spring rolls and while pulling his wallet out, loses the admit card. Two minutes later, all the spring in his life turns autumn brown. And then he darts around like a blind bee, wishing for x-ray vision or something. He is already late for the exam.

A shopkeeper shows him an MP’s secretary’s door, who writes vague orders on his writing pad, that supposedly allowed him to sit through the paper without being harassed by the examiner. Then he races upto the college with the speed of light, thus proving Einstein’s thoery wrong, and makes two rounds of college to find his room. He eventually gets in, and finishes the paper before everyone else. Adrenaline!

Later he finds his admit card posted on Facebook with a lost and found notice, with love reactions and all, and people praying for its safe return.

Happy Ending.

2. This girl is back with a bang.

She was pretty insignificant in std. 6. I mean they all are ugly little annoying things in std. 6. Look at Doctor, for example, even though she was never ugly – I mean even the ultrasound photos of her foetal form could inspire artists and cause world war 3 – she was pretty annoying. Like, remarkably annoying. And evil. Like, if she had a choice between a lifetime free coupon to Baskin-Robbins and watching us choke to death she would happily quit ice cream.

Anyway, this other girl I was talking about was kind of invisible, despite being my friend’s supposed girlfriend. Flat chest, single pony, plain features. And fast forward 8 years from then, and oh my heavens! I ran into her on instagram and found this short video. No it wasn’t sexual, it was just her expressions, and my pulmonary veins spasmed with the thud of a lifetime. My eyes bulged out with escape velocity and my jaw sank into earth and pine trees grew behind my molars and I was still not in my senses. My neighbour saw it too and he was impressed as well.

I texted my friend that he was the dumbest ass in the multiverse for leaving a beauty like her, to which he replied, “she friendzoned me. ”

O you poor thing!

I told this other friend of mine who was busy ogling his hot neighbour showering naked with lights on and so he didn’t pay attention. Later he told me she has been in a pretty great relationship for the last two years.

Tragedy.

3. I watched memento.

Christopher Nolan hands down is the most intelligent movie director of all time. He is so intelligent that when they were launching Cassini, they hid pirated copies of his movies inside, so that if aliens hit upon the vehicle, they do realise we are intelligent species.
So I watched memento and realised how awfully Bollywood had copied the theme from a south Indian copy of the movie. They just made it a romance-revenge drama, where it was the thriller of the century. I was mondblown at the end of the movie, turning and twisting in my bed like a poisoned dog. I googled and tried to understand the theory. It took me a while. Then, the Jio Guy saw the movie and he barged in last morning.

“Barbossa, what the fuck did I just watch!!?”

Fifteen minutes later, we were hunched over the notebook, trying to figure out the ending with the help of diagrams and flowcharts. We did a little research on anterograde amnesia and discussed all the perspectives and possible cases. It was like preparing a thesis. We even watched the movie, this time in a forward order, wondering if Leonard’s version was fabricated.

Another neighbour dropped in and seemed quite impressed with our nerdity. Or maybe he thought we were idiots. Anyway, he congratulated us for making such a deep contribution to the development of nation and exited. We couldn’t reach a concrete conclusion though.

Confused.

IITJEE and Jai Mata Di

He looked at me through squinted eyes, and then exclaimed, 

“Wow! Why couldn’t I ever think of that! ”

IITJEE is a nightmare for most of the candidates. You’ve an exam hall with the lowest possible sex ratio, and the girls look no better than William Frey’s daughters. Then there’s this question paper full of strange mysterious symbols, which pretty much appear like messages of Jaadu preserved by Rakesh Roshan and then unleashed on humanity. When I was taking the foundation course, the symbols on the board would start floating around like agitated fishes in a pond, and I’d wonder if I was really carved out for this shit.

One day, my friend showed me a man riding a bicycle. In a hogwartsy tone, he asked, 

“What do you see? ”

I thought about it for a while. I wondered if it was a normal question aimed at testing sight, or a deeper question which Leeladhar Swamy asks from his listeners every morning on Sanskaar TV. 

“I see a man. With a mango crate. He seems poor. And tired too. He is riding. He has stopped. Oh! He is riding again. “I said, wondering if my friend had finally lost his mind. He was rebuffed by a girl a few days ago, and since then he has been asking weird questions. 

What’s the purpose of life? Why are girls so evil? What would I do without her? Have you ever felt love? 

My ass. 

“You know what I see? “He asked. I didn’t want to know what he saw. I wanted to go home. But he spoke anyway,

“I see kinetic energy. And then potential energy. And then kinetic energy again. ”

I looked at his face carefully. His smile was fake, his eyes were lava pits, his hair was a hacked hedge. He was so pathetic you could caste him in child labour ads. Suddenly I realized two things – I was in the company of a lunatic, and that science was not something I should pursue. 

I gave up on physics after that. But many of my friends didn’t and they suffered a lot. 

Atif is always the guy in wrong profession. He should have started a band, performing live concerts by now, but like every other small town guy, he is taking IITJEE. Last year he asked for some advice regarding the exam, and if I knew some tricks to solve MCQs. 

“You always get good scores. I can’t believe you haven’t got some secret trick. All intelligent people have a secret trick. ”

I wondered if I should suggest him to take a healthy diet and sleep on time, but it didn’t seem like those ideas would be welcome, so I asked,

“Alright, Atif. Have you studied anything for the exam? ”

“Nah. I didn’t even know that coordinate geometry was in syllabus until yesterday. “He said coolly. 

I nodded, and said,

“I know what you got to do. You got to pick an option and mark the same for every question. ”

He looked at me through squinted eyes, and then exclaimed, 

“Wow! Why couldn’t I ever think of that! ”

I remained immersed in guilt for a few months after that. And a few more after Atif told me he’s done exactly as I suggested. I asked him if he solved any question, and he said he couldn’t differentiate Alpha from Beta, and since a girl sat beside him, he couldn’t have risked to look stupid trying to figure out the harmonic progression of some trigonometric identities. 

“The girl asked me if I knew what’s the atomic number of uranium. And I was so excited I couldn’t even reply. The boy from the other side replied and he won the girl. Uranium had never been so important before.”

“Oh! “I said, wondering if I would ever go out with a girl who asks me the atomic number of uranium. Nah. Never. 

Results were declared and what’s unbelievable was that he was only 10 marks short of the cutoff.

“This is so heartbreaking. “He said. “I marked B in every question. Should have gone with A. A for Atif. ”

I was quite taken aback. I didn’t even know such a trick could work. Had I cracked the code to pass MCQ exams!?

“This time try mixing options. Do a Jai Mata Di. “I suggested. I had a strong feeling that he would be in top 100 when results are out.

He followed my advice. 

Results were declared. 

And he isn’t telling me his marks now.

“C’mon. How bad can it be? You haven’t got negative score, have you? “I keep asking.

“Let’s talk about something elese. I should have taken commerce.”He says. 

Deactivaatttiiiinnnnngggggg

How far does deactivating Facebook account help in healing your wounds?

Deactivating social media accounts is, these days, the primary response to an emotional crisis. Stressed about exams? Deactivate. Got dumped by the girl? Deactivate. Realised nobody cares? Deactivate. Some do it even without any particular reason. Like my friend Atif.

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My friend Atif loves to deactivate. It’s in the “hobby” section of his resumè. Maybe he’s always emotionally unstable, or maybe nobody has told him about the log out button yet. 

It all started in 2014, when our board exam was knocking at the door. People had quit watching porn and started concentrating on the syllabus. I’d disposed off the DVDs and stopped filling my diary. Atif was still busy scrolling through timelines. 

He deactivated after the result, making a loud, silly resolution – I’m not coming back for the next two years. He also resolved to stop masturbating. 

He failed the XII board exam. 

Those who are in love often do it to express something. Deactivating the account is somehow meant to impart a message to the world. Or else, you could have sulked in silence. 

Then, there are studious guys who visit Facebook on annual basis. They’d update their DP, check a few profiles, wish somebody a happy birthday, and go back to anonymity. Their visits are mostly nocturnal. What’s the point of having an account at all?

I’ve often resorted to this method of social alienation. It doesn’t help in my case. I have a teeming circle of friends up there. Plus, there are hot girls. So, deactivating only aggravates my woes. If somebody pisses me off, I block him. Like this one girl who kept sending me romantic couplets despite my clear resistance. It felt like an assault, and so I blocked her. Then, when I’m sad, I upload a drawing or something. When people like it, I feel happy.

In October 2015, Heroine bet me 500 rupees if I deactivated for a month. I was so excited about the 500 rupee note, I deactivated with a wide smile on my face. I lasted for exactly 14 hours. 

Recently, Atif sent me a friend request. His old id has been permanently deleted. 

“Suggest me a few hot girls. “He said. 

I told him to wait for five minutes and deactivated my account. 

😈😈😈

Dowry Rate of a District Magistrate 

What’s the best thing you can get as a District Magistrate?

Ask my mother.

A few months ago, somebody told my mother about Civil Services Exam. I want to find that guy and chop his balls.

“If you become an IAS, I’ll be the queen of Renunagar Colony. “She said, dreamily, “People will talk about me all the time, how I sacrificed everything for you and all, my photo will come in newspapers, my whatsapp inbox will be filled with congratulatory messages. Oh my God! You have to do it son. ”

“For the sake of your whatsapp inbox? “I asked, baffled. 

“No, for yourself, silly. At least 50 lakhs plus AC car for District Magistrates. Can you imagine? Have you ever touched 50 lakhs? Or an AC car? ”

“What?”Escaped my throat. 

“Yes. Munmun Aunty told me. She’s never wrong about Dowry rates. She has a full-fledged calculation formula. ”

I so wanted to wipe out Munmun Aunty’s existence. She keeps filling my mother with Dowry Rate informations, and my mother goes crazy with greed. 

“Okay. Here’s a fact, maa. Munmun Aunty is divorced. Her son is a parking lot agent, which isn’t even a job…”

“Now don’t go there, sonny. Be an IAS. There are handsome rewards for being an IAS. “She said, that evilish smile profound in her tone. I wanted to tell her that I was already in love with a few feminist women, who would rather marry a lamppost than give dowry, but it didn’t seem like a good time to reveal my secrets to her. She had 50 lakhs dancing in front of her eyes. 

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Later that evening, I googled UPSCE

The Third Toughest Exam in the World. The Toughest Exam in India

2 Preliminary papers. 9 Mains papers. Interview. More than 2500 marks. More than 30 hours. Infinite syllabus. 

A success rate of 0.1% – 0.3%.

Okay, heres a fact. Only two kinds of people crack UPSCE – those who are poor as fuck, or those who are talented as fuck. Guys like me, the semi-poor, semi-talented ones do MA and teach kids in schools. Or become a writer. 

I told my mother about it. 

“Pammi di is doing it. If she can do it, there’s no reason you can’t. ”

And that was the end of conversation. Because if Pammi di won a race, I had to at least beat Usain Bolt. That’s how equations work in my clan. No wonder I hate Maths. I went back to the UPSCE website and downloaded last year’s question papers. The questions were not easy, but they were interesting. Unlike the symbols they throw you at IITJEE. The papers were more human. 

I decided I’ll give it a few shots. Not for the dowry, or my mother’s whatsapp inbox, but for writing those answers. That’s my only kick for UPSCE. 

Strict Daily Plan : nostalgia #2

I always thought of my maths teacher as an expressionless woman with an awful sex life. I even pictured her talking in cosines to her husband.

​#strict_daily_plan 😆


Haha!

This little thing reminds me of the blue colored walls of my room, the least noticed among which was the one that had trigonometric formulas on. Well, I wanted to learn some formulas but I really had no enthusiasm for undergoing the learning process, so I asked this semi genius friend of mine if he could help me out.

“Oh it’s so simple! “He said, “Write them down in a paper and stick them to your wall. ”

“Really? That’s it!? “I said, quite amazed. 

“Yeah. “He said. 

It was the day I wrote all the formulas on that super white sheet and stuck it on the back wall. You have to stick it on the front wall, he clarified four months later. Obviously! 

On the side wall, I had this strict daily plan I’d drawn after some in-depth graphical analysis of my own supply capacity and the demand by the subjects. I also drew distinct emojis after each subject as I’d heard visual representations help you to focus. In fact, I was so deeply influenced by this theory that I started drawing during maths classes just so that I could understand a little bit of integration. It is other thing that two months later I was drawing naked girls – yeah, that was me but I swear their oversized breasts wasn’t my creation – on the desk the entire period, and I got to say this, my knowledge of the areas under curves actually got better! 

Anyway, the reason I put up the plan was that my father has always asked me to make a routine. Sometimes, I’d want to have a conversation with him or maybe just ask him about constellations, and I’d go to him and look at him, and he’d say, gazing deep into my eyes,

“You know what, son, you should make a routine. ” 

I actually used to make them in the beginning, but I stopped after chucking away the 146th routine in my life. But then, I read Business Studies and got dumped by a Facebook friend who turned out to be my junior, and then I realized my father was right. Maybe the purpose of life is to get a routine, after all!

This plan started with 2 problems of accountancy each day. I loathed accountancy like I’ve never loathed anyone, not even the bully at the primary school who rubbed dirt onto my glossy shoes almost everyday just for the fun of it. At the end of the session, and almost 150 days, I’d solved a total of 3 and a half questions. 

Number two was Eco, and Lord Evans and I had studied Economics for exactly 16 hours the whole year. And that’s the aggregate figure. 

Number three. BST. Two days before the exam. I even made notes with glitters and all. And yeah, there were lots of drawings, which mostly consisted of stick-figures standing together for no particular reason. 

And Maths. I can’t even word my hatred for Maths. I hated maths so much that I always thought of my maths teacher as an expressionless woman with an awful sex life. I even pictured her talking in cosines to her husband. The emoji’s perfect though. And 20 problems! God! Was I insane or what!?

And who the hell drew that goblin face by the VVS sign!? It was either the great RP, or Heroine

And micro was all about paying attention in the class, because the teacher was a no-nonsense man. He loved molesting students. Figuratively. 

I remember looking at this piece of card everyday and procrastinating all my responsibilities for some day. My father certainly wouldn’t have been happy about it, but I believe that human life wasn’t supposed to be tamed by a set of instructions supported by hieroglyphics, I believe we were born to rebel against the routine, we were born to stall and fuck up, we were born to be unpredictable and messed up.

“How many routines did you chart out when you were a kid? “I asked my father the other day.

“I didn’t. “He said, “I was smart. Gold medalist, remember? “

Exams Ahead

And my uncle said 2016 would be a bright year!!!!

Evetually, CBSE published the much-awaited panic-inducing date sheet for the XII Boards, 2016. Our AISSE exam spans for exactly a month, from the 1st of March to the 31st. Now, Board exams to an Indian student is what a Football world cup is to a Brazilian fan. Excitement. Panic. Fear. Hope. Dreams. All the emotions come whooshing by, like a whirlpool in the kitchen sink. This announcement has once again differentiated the students into two categories. One, who are still on Facebook, and other, who are mugging their asses off.

image

I belong to the former. And so do most of the people I talk to. It’s not as if I didn’t give it a thought, I mean the first thing a sane human being is supposed to do after the announcement of AISSE date sheets is to go to the settings menu and DEACTIVATE, isn’t that? But right when I was about to do it, I saw a beauty contest on one of the pages I’ve liked. And you know, guys, pretty girls are the inherent weakness of a straight male teenager. So, for a second I forgot the date sheet and the urgent necessity to deactivate and I liked their photos and sent friend request to each one of them. I just logged out after that. Deactivation plans cancelled.
Doctor perhaps belongs to some other category. She’s neither on facebook and nor ploughing through the course material. She’s the master of her own destiny. She had deactivated centuries ago, and right now, she’s gorging novels like I’d feast on a Buffett plate. That’s what I like about her. Her cute rebellious attitude.
Anyway, as for me, deactivation won’t help much. I am going to fuck-up big, either way. Fingers crossed. Wish it hurts less.

PS. As if the panic wasn’t awful enough, my mother has slipped further into her fancy-I’m-a-22-year-old-heroine lunacy. She wears dresses and asks me to do photo shoot. I’m afraid she will be cat-walking on the ramps soon. 😐

And my uncle said 2016 would be a bright year!!!!

It’s Time!!!!!

I am catching a bus home today.
And I am so excited that I just wore the wrong side of my shirt, which is not something you should mention in a blog……

Okay. It’s really tough to write a blog while putting your legs inside your pants. I know that because that’s what I’m doing right now.
Anyway, as I dress up, I feel like I’m a prisoner dolling himself up for his own execution. And dear lord, no one has even asked me my last wish. My last wish is to kill every Harry Potter fan in this world, because, frankly, that will reduce the world population by 3/4th and there will be more sane people, and no Hogwarts-maniac who blabbers avada kadaveda in their dreams.

Anyway,
I am catching a bus home today.
And I am so excited that I just wore the wrong side of my shirt, which is not something you should mention in a blog but I don’t think that’s possibly obscene. Indian Censor Board would have deleted this wearing-pants-and-shirt part.
So yeah, I’ll head home after that goddamn exam and finally eat some delicious food cooked by my mother (who otherwise doesn’t get much praise in my writings ). And I’ll meet my friends, and that’s no less than a  prize.
My mother has asked me to buy some earrings and caps and nailpaints and whatever and whatever for her, but I’m not going to buy anything because, hell, I don’t buy anything except for books, not even my own underwears. ( And that’s something Censor Board would have definitely deleted from wordpress. )
Yeah but don’t think of me as an evil son. I’ve ordered (actually received) two dresses for her. And for my father, well, all he wants is my school-fee card ( for adding in income tax statement ).
And even though this is a very loser statement to make when you’re an artist and a blog-writer, I hope I’ll learn how to ride a scooty this time.

Sayonara.