Dead Ragdoll

CAT

2011-10-24T12:39:00.000-07:00

Another pathetic attempt at CAT is a week away. I feel like Jack's cold dead shit.

#cleverreferencetofightclubandtitanic

#fuckiwillhavetoworkforanotheryear
#fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

End's coming

2011-09-09T13:02:00.000-07:00

We shifted to Ahmedabad when I was in the 8th standard and people in the new school weren't the douches I was used to being around. These new people used to solve the Maths problem book in the free period, watch Friends, and read thick story books. These were cool people. I have some of them on Facebook, and watching them is still a pain. It was like being Leonardo DiCaprio on the Titanic, except there was no in-the-facing the pompous bastards by having sex with one of their chicks.

This one day, we were ushered out of our class to some hall where we were told that one of the girls from my class was supposed to be reviewing a book. It was, as it usually is in these cases, tough to give a fuck. My legs were numb, which always pisses me off. The good thing was that this was the first time I heard about Harry Potter. I guess Goblet of Fire had come out by then. The English teacher was mighty pleased with the girl. I don't even feel like abusing any of these people now because they used to be dumb kids back then, but really, fuck them. I should add a note here: I didn't wear no underwear till I was in (I think) the 10th standard. So every time I sat on cemented floor in the 40 degree Ahmedabad heat, I left ass-marks on the floor and had a tough time hiding it and all.

So I read the first three books less than a month after that review, and it was pretty satisfying knowing I could go through a thick story book too. Apart from Harry Potter, I don't think I've read more than 10 other novels/books till date. It was one of those things a lot of us grew up with. Waiting for the next book, cursing JK Rowling for being lazy and then cursing them motherfucking spoiler SMSes.

The last Harry Potter book was released in 2007, which is when I was in the third year of college. Standard 8th to third year of college. That's a long time. Point in case being that Harry Potter is something I'll always remember certain things by. For instance:

1. I bought pirated versions of the first three books in Daryaganj. This was how I discovered the legendary book market of Daryaganj.

2. My sister's Kinetic got towed away while she was in Crosswords reading the 5th book. This was how an entirely irksome evening was spent retrieving the wheezing piece of shit.

3. A guy from school borrowed the first three books from me in the 12th standard and then stopped talking to me when I was in the first year, and thus never returned them. This was how I unfriended an asshole at a price.

4. When I told my English teacher in class that I read the first three books after that horrible review, the girl went all "Awwwww :)" and "Thankkssss ^_^". This was how I felt naaiice.

It was sad when the last page was read. It is a rare feeling. It doesn't compare to the last day of college in magnitude, but it was qualitatively similar. The end of a long association. And now something similar is about to happen.

As is evident from some of the earlier posts on this blog, a good part of life after college has been spent bitchin' 'bout it all. Shit people, shit jobs, shit sex and the like. Well, the shit sex part has not been mentioned.

Anecdote time: This guy I know hired a hooker and watched IPL with her, so I guess it's fair to say that the sex has been shitty. It is in fact an episode awesome enough to feature in a Tarantino movie.

Coming back, this is how the IITK calendar works:

Semester 1: July end to November end
Winter vacations: December
Semester 2: January to May middle
Summer break: May end to July end

The 10-week summer break is when certain losers repeated courses after failing them, while other losers did projects in college. Staying back at college was always a loserly thang to do because it was hot and you woke up all drenched in sweat if you didn't put contri to smuggle a cooler in. So the summer break after the second year was when PG and I discovered something sinister. It was called Naruto. If you haven't heard about it or (worse) don't give a fuck about it because it happens to be a Japanese comic, then let us file for divorce coz srsly bitch, your gettin 2 mah nerves whore.

In a nutshell, Naruto is a phenomenon that occurs once every two lifetimes. It is the sort of thing that defines #win. If you're not familiar with what #win is, you should probably close your eyes just right now, take two very really deep breaths, think about the lowest low that you have faced in your life and then play this video that is embedded here, and that will make you create a Twitter account and re-tweet your own tweet twice, which will be the URL to this video. At the end of the third tweet, you will have an epiphany which will make you end up writing #win.

So there was no going back once we saw the first anime episode. I guess some things just really get you. I could write a 400 word summary of the premise and the plot, or maybe you could do yourself a favour and just watch it before your miserable life reaches its inevitable sorry-ass conclusion. FYI, narutoget.com.

So that's when we started. From watching the anime, we went to reading the manga which is released every week, and let me tell you why. Do you know the feeling when you call up a friend after several days and 2 minutes after the niceties, one of the two of you asks "so what's new?" and you know that it's pretty much the death of the whole conversation? Do you hate the middle of the week because Wednesdays seem like God's way of making you understand the meaning of the word 'mediocrity'? Do you occasionally look at your book collection and pick Harry Potter up because it reminds you of everything nice you associate with it?

If so then I don't think I know what the fuck you're even talking about.

Wednesdays are when happiness in life peaks for about 10 minutes, after which you call some motherfucker and discuss how bitchass the week's manga was. Wednesdays are probably the reason why the rest of the days exist. Wednesdays are, as of the 10th of September 2011, probably the reason why all that shit that life has thrown at us since that tragic graduation has been fought with a background score.

But like all good things, Naruto must end. And the time is near. Six months probably, or a year. And the day will come when every remaining mystery would have been unraveled, the last page would have been read, the last graphic would have been stared at and I'll click the 'Next' button, probably as heartbroken as I ever have been. It will be yet another of those reboots I have come to dread. The next day will probably have no background score. Our Great War will be a spiritual war, our Great Depression will be our lives. We're good men and this shouldn't happen to us over and over again.

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go see a drunk Rock lee taijutsu the crap out of Kimimaro, because it's teh shit.

Drinking and Driving

2011-06-27T09:02:00.000-07:00

i figured out why it's not advisable to drink and drive. it's because you get fucked like a stranger. in the ass. please don't assume i'm not capitalizing first letters because i'm drunk and i want to sound like it. somehow blackberry os6 with all its fancy motherfucking features doesn't let you capitalize no first letters on blogger entries. how fucked is that? it's fubar. what's more fubar is that it lets you capitalize first letters in the title, but not the body. that's fucking irritating. there was a foreigner chick in the elevator, but she was with a firang budhdha. however, they got into separate rooms. what's more? she checked into the room next to mine. i wish i had real balls. not the kind it takes to climb the stage and screw random chutiyas in mridaksh. i'm talking real balls. the kind it takes to knock on a foreign chick's door at 10 in the night and ask if she'll have dinner with you.

she'll never have dinner with me. because i'll never ask. because i worry, i weigh three times my body. that's fucking loads. and i will wait to find, if this will last forever.

Hotel Related

2011-06-23T15:15:00.000-07:00

Some professions take you places. Consultants, for example, travel lots and from what I've heard, post the bills to the client afterwards. It's pretty neat, I have to say. If the world wasn't as retarded as it is, they probably wouldn't get paid squat. But I don't really get what consultancies do. I say that because a consultant told me so. They're always right.

Sales people travel a lot too. Unrelated, but people think we're thieves. That's when I use the IIT tag. Sometimes, I can't imagine why, that doesn't work. I used to dwell on it, but then I figured it's like trying to solve a Sudoku puzzle. It's tough when you start solving, and gets really simple with time. Then if you keep solving them regularly, it dawns on you that it's stupid and then you go back to only reading Calvin and Hobbes on page 2. I really do want to thug the panties out of people to be honest, and I'm getting better. I've never owned any panties - gifted, bought or stolen, and it makes me want some every now and then. The closest I came to stealing some was when I put election flyers in them. Not mine, the opponent's.

I stay in a hotel or two every week because of all the traveling, and they're scary due to a number of things I'm not always sure of:

Is breakfast complementary? Asking the receptionist this question makes you look cheap. Since the company is going to pay for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks and escorts billed as formal dinner, I couldn't really give a shit if it actually is. But I still ask, out of curiosity. For the record, I don't bill whores as formal dinner. I hate formal dinners. Everyone obviously knows that.
This bellboy uncle just rolled my trolley-bag to my room. Sure I could have done so myself, but he really did hijack it. Awkward moment: bag's in place and uncle asks "Fine, sir?". Too bad I'm out of 10-rupee bills. How do I not give him a tip? One option is to make a call and ignore uncle. Another option is to smile at said uncle and thank him. A third option, as I learned from a colleague is to tell uncle "Kya iss ke liye bhi tip lenge? Jaaiye." This translates to "I'm an asshole" in English, semantically. But it gets the job done. Fact: I spend between 400-600 rupees every week in tipping waiters, bellboys, doormen and drivers. Tips are non-reimbursable and they piss me off.
Progressive hotels don't give you no water or ass-nozzles or ass-showers. But they are still preferable to post-modern-progressive-gonorrhoea-causing hotels that don't give you no buckets and mugs either. I'm not telling you what I do in those cases. It should suffice to know that walking without cleaning creates a real mess.
What does "check-in time" mean? I was 21 by the time I understood what check-out time means. I don't remember it any more, but I knew once. The reason behind the unlearning is that some well-wishing hotel person once tried to explain how exactly the check-in time will affect my bill. Halfway through her explanation, I remembered I'm not paying, so I went straight to my room and took a well-deserved potty after a long journey. The unnecessary lecture also made me forget what check-out time meant. It was like the time I learned what the Fourier series was, and 2 lectures later, we were taught the Fourier transform, and it basically erased any understanding of the Fourier series that might have seeped in. However, I have thought of many theories on what check-in time could mean, and owing to my keen sense of observation, I have ruled out all but one. A hotel's check-in time basically refers to the presence of at least one chutiya among the hotel staff. Yes.
Why do female receptionists call and ask whether or not I'm havin' a good time? If I need anything else. If I have some feedback. Don't get me wrong, I'm not pissed about it or asking a rhetorical question. I sincerely would like to know if this is supposed to mean something. Is there something that seasoned hotel guests are supposed to know, and I don't. There were a few other such things, that I took time to learn, thus the apprehension. For instance, I didn't know till recently about this lie that hotels tell: that the toilet seats have been sanitized for our protection. What hotels actually do is wait for the previous occupant's piss to evaporate. I have checked online and this is not a valid method of sanitization. Anyway, what I would like to know is if the receptionist is hinting at giving me a happy ending for being a regular visitor. Does that happen? What is a polite way of asking?

It has been 1 year and 359 days since I started working for this company. It's kind of sad that I'm still uncomfortable about hotels. Once this receptionist asked me if I am "doing science". How does one even start answering that question? Science has done me for years. Fuck that shit. Abbreviated henceforth as FTS. This is FYI.

Thank you.

Warm Regards,
Salesboy.

Targets

2011-01-22T12:17:00.000-08:00

Let me start by giving advice to people appearing for IIM interviews this year.

The selection procedure of certain IIMs includes essay writing. Not that I need to worry about the selection procedure of IIMs given my current IQ, but Sam and I have decided that "Solipsism and the Great Beyond" would make a good title for most topics. Be it for the Commonwealth Games, or for a post-recession market study or for Terror in J&K. By the way, the RTI-enforced compulsion on all IIMs to make public their selection criteria is pretty damn painful.

Now, one (I) must contend with the fact that they (I) will probably never get selected in IIM Ahmedabad since they (I) do not have a GPA over 8. Compared to what happened earlier, this is disastrous. I have no inspiration to increase my IQ anymore, which is tragic for the nation's defense labs and IITs.

This brings me to targets. Sales targets are evil, unachievable motherfuckers and they piss you off like cowshit stuck to the sole of your shoe. You learn to live with targets and it's similar to you knowing that if you walk in the right places, like a paddy field, stepping in cowshit will prove itself to be a useful exercise and therefore you would end up feeling cleverer at the end of the whole episode. However, you will never walk in a paddy field. So fuck off.

And basically, once you have a target to meet/beat, you start living each day with the number in your brain. Though I have no idea what it feels like to be shitting tapeworm eggs, I think the feeling of having a target up your ass would come close. But had you studied harder in college, you wouldn't be doing any of this in the first place. Therefore, everything is entirely your own fault and now you must pay for all the class-skipping you did.

So kids, attend classes, study hard, get good grades and be a rich person. Though people like Sam will tell you that they do not regret anything they've done in their lifetime, always remember: pay no heed to poor people.

The Zune-iPod finale

2010-09-11T11:08:00.000-07:00

The Zune-iPod finale concluded 3 days earlier. Proper understanding of this post will need a bit of background for most people who read this, so kindly read through everything I have ever written to get it.

So Ganguly and I were discussing how our respective lives would greatly benefit in spiritual and philosophical terms if we could start a business together. Like all employed people, we're heroic procrastinators when it comes to the subject of leaving a job. I was trying to justify the grand idea and to put a number on the amount of money we could make, though since it turned out to be less than what the Bangali is presently earning, he was obviously not interested. Like he is known to do, he was trying to steer the discussion towards girls, naked girls, Jack Daniels, whores, naked whores, etc.

For those who want to learn how, it is a pretty effective method of avoiding meaningful conversation, since everyone has an opinion on these topics. This is not to imply that Ganguly uses it as a tool to avoid sane conversation; it's just that he is genuinely not interested in other things people talk about. Nevertheless, I managed to turn it around and went back to case studies on how people start companies and earn money.

Ganguly has, for a long time now, been troubled with his occupation. We used to have a wisecrack on his drilling job and half of the oil in the world being up his momma's ass, but that died out when we realized he doesn't even drill. What he does is mug for a fucking test that has been pending for months now and clearing which will get him a step closer to something, no one can tell what.

Admitting that starting a business of our own would do us good, he went on to enlighten me about how big corporations heartlessly rob people (apparently, his company does a lot of it). Which is when he conceded: "Take the iPod..."

Thus concluded the saga of the iPod and the Zune. Any further argument in favour of any product can kindly go fuck itself.

About our grand plans and business, it's going to be. One day.

Thanks Sam for restarting this shit.

Blogs die

2009-11-01T11:32:00.000-08:00

I had imagined I would document here whatever happened to happen around, here and there. But the sad truth is that blogs die. We cut down on writing, but I don't think we forgot why we wrote here in the first place.

I used to refresh these pages on the right a few times a day, expecting wonderful things to turn up any minute, and they sometimes did. I still do that once a week. If you come here sometimes too, you would know what it feels like. Probably like knocking on a locked door. If you have followed those 100-odd embarrassing posts, I know this rusty one will be forgiven. The burden of expectation is gone, and that is not necessarily a good thing.

I know we are all still the same, just that we have still not gotten over the shock that graduation was. It would be funny to write something very smartassy under Ganguly's latest post on his blog (trust me, we still have a sense of humour), but the pic and caption are all too fucking sad. The truth about college is that it was once a means to an end, or to another means to some end, and I hope it still is to the students there because that is why people go to colleges, but we had stopped caring about it a while back. Which is why this post is not about the present. I might tell you about the present and try to give myself false satisfaction in the process, but I realize now what it will be. In our own ways, we are all probably trying to make the future better, but I have strongly felt that in reality we have been trying to make it resemble the time that was semesters 7 and 8.

Fourth year, IIT Kanpur is where it should have stopped. We might just wake up one day and find ourselves in our wings and rooms, but we do not. We wake up in weird places, meet weird people and do weird things all day. Fourth year, IIT Kanpur ended - so here we are. No matter what here is, it is a bad place to be in. Giving it time does not help you get over it. We had planned about, or at least dreamed of doing something, but we chose to be safe and maybe there still is time to take a risk worth taking. I hope we take that chance one day.

So here's to what Ganguly says - we never did leave Hall 1. One day we might. But I hope that day we move somewhere close by.

From Wikipedia

2009-09-24T22:32:00.000-07:00

Reporter: I'd like to direct this question to messrs. Lennon and McCartney. In a recent article, Time magazine put down pop music. And they referred to "Day Tripper" as being about a prostitute...

Paul: Oh yeah.

Reporter: ...and "Norwegian Wood" as being about a lesbian.

Paul: Oh yeah.

Reporter: I just wanted to know what your intent was when you wrote it, and what your feeling is about the Time magazine criticism of the music that is being written today.

Paul: We were just trying to write songs about prostitutes and lesbians, that's all.

Don't read if you grow old and mature

2009-06-24T12:46:00.000-07:00

Hey dawgs, the Benjamin Buttons of the brain have come up with yet another masterpiece. It's partly a product of having nothing to do and partly because Durable is a real life hero, peace prize deserving person.

Go to MaaBehenJokes for the best MaaBehen Jokes in town, y'all. That going to be the 2 millionth word in English by the way - MaaBehen, so come back to check what it means in some time.

Theme of the Week: Life roxcxbcjbxcjhfd

2009-06-06T12:40:00.000-07:00

Life couldn't possibly rox more. We're all done with college and there are no words to describe how roxing it is. But not quite all of us. Prashant Gautam is coming back but hey, what do you know? His internship rox so hard it puts rox kings Iron Maiden out of business.

Let us start with Sameer Singh's life. He enjoys the recession, this lad. While the West reels under it, we here have managed to grow at 6.something percent and thus, he's bound to have his laughs. (After all, they did call him a Paki when he was in the United Kingdom for a couple of years. Even in his report card.) He's happy with our government and everything else. Hell, the captain of the Indian cricket team is a Bihari (Jharkhandi if you like), which is what Sameer Singh is as well, and so he has every right to even be a notch happier than the rest of the nation. He's at home, exercising and shaping up for his wife to be and that is known to make you feel good. He needs to take a dozen or so exams but he was known to be a top notch examinee back in his college days, so that's not a big worry. He really did bedazzle professors with his amazing prowess and that is exactly what he will do again? Will you not, Sam?

Oh, but the knock-out punch of roxiness is this - he's out of IIT Kanpur, but as a special favour (recognizing his drop-dead good looks) the college has still not pulled down his brilliantly designed and conceptualized home page. Once again ladies and gents, but sadly for the last time ever, I give you: Sameer Singh's home page.

Note: Someone, anyone, somehow, anyhow, please fucking save that page.

Now a quick look at Soham Ganguly's life in the remote land of Siliguri. That place is quite nice he says, and relatively free of communism too. That makes Soham Ganguly's life nice and bluesy but not quite roxy enough. What does make it so is his job. Brilliant, is it not? Pays him a lot and down there in Siliguri, them Bolsheviks don't even know there is a rich bull to milk in their midst (or whatever that process might yield, don't be lame). Of course there are minor questions about whether the offer sees the light of day but for a man who has love in his life, they pose but an academic threat.

His lady does not know he has that absolutely smashing job because he wants to win her over with honour. Mind you, gorgeous and respected as he is, he will. Post graduation, he has found both direction and meaning in life, and could it get better than that?

Prashant Gautam is the sulky kind. He will tell you he is in a total yenless mess in Japon, sans friend or foe. He might say all of that yes, but who doesn't day dream about Japanese girls? I mean not you Ganguly, since you're in true true (sic) love and your dreams were monogamous last anyone heard, but who else? If you prefer German, then there he has them in the International Students' Hostel near his place. Exotic property this tall brown man is and intrigues strangers, male or female. He has all the time in the world and all the girls in the world to spend it on. If that had been the case with him at other instances in his life too, what differentiates it this time is that he is rich. With a couple of katanas adorning either side of the waist, a kurta-pyjama attire and a moustache, my bet is that he will get laid. Roxcbxjcbdfsfkds.

And then there is Varun Khaitan who took his award along with him to this village in Rajasthan and to Aruna Roy madam, to show off as he does his thing. He creates manure for drought-hit farmers each morning, and that's about all the social work he does, I suppose. But he's going to big titty US of A to get more chocolates and hash functions for himself than ever before and with all that money, he'll just \m/ (a month's salary (after appropriate tax deductions) says he will play the guitar better than Hendrix once's he is as rich as he will be)

Me? I have simple needs. The comforts of home, the World Cup and a modest job that awaits might not sound like stuff for celluloid, but I'm not Shahrukh Khan either. For a fat, balding person, scraping a living is satisfactory enough. I know one might say that it doesn't sound like fun enough and definitely doesn't fit in with the theme of the week.

But guess what?

THE ZUNE IS COMING BACK MOTHERFUCKERS, SO FUCK OFF AND DON'T SHOW ME YOUR UGLY FUCKING FACES EVER AGAIN, BECAUSE I DON'T NEED NO FAGGOTY FUCKING FRIENDS NOW, FOR SURE.

aaHHAHSAHSAIHDASUHFIAFSDIFDSIF. liIFE ROxSCSFDKGKSD.

Convocation '09

2009-06-01T02:13:00.000-07:00

So we graduated the day before yesterday (really did, by God) in black robes and hat that required us to pay 500 rupees in caution money. It's all over, I'm home and all my stuff is here too. Of course I will go back to IIT Kanpur once in a while but a person's stuff is important - it tells us where our home really is.

Of course yesterday was the most awful day in many and abruptly, we were all on our way back without the reassurance that we'd be back. Here's looking back on the last two days:

Convocation: We cheered for each other as we knew only we could. I guess people did stare but then we had to shout so we did. And then Khet got the best all-rounder award at which point Ganguly went up to the stage and announced it was him who'd recommended him and followed it up with jerking off on stage. Photographs of Kheti, Darua and Sam made it to Amar Ujala. While Kheti looks like a stud with his award, Darua and Sam look constipated without one.
Chief Guest: Sucked. His American accent was his biggest ever achievement, he confessed, and if you google "diamond four Cs clarity carat colour cut", you'll get where he got his speech from. Anyway, his company gave IITK loads of money to build the Outreach, so who cares if his speech put us to sleep. Most speeches do.
Parents: Our parents were here, which was scary. We couldn't afford to be as us as we are, our rooms couldn't afford to be as dirty, our wingmates couldn't afford to watch what they usually do on Sunday afternoons and our potty couldn't afford to smell as bad as it does. Shit happened with Sam like it usually does and the naked girl sketch that was not his doing got the wrong kind of audience.
One Last Time: I returned to the campus for one last night which went the same way it did so often - a round or two of intoxication and a round or two of the campus and a ladyless group's applause for any girl who passed.
H3KMKB: H3KMKB we shouted and everyone with parents still around ducked for cover. Sorry for that. But H3KMKB.

And then, Ganguly left. Then I did too. Tonight, Sam shall. And a shitload of others.

Mumbai fed me its shit... again

2009-05-13T10:48:00.002-07:00

I'm in a train again, and it partly sucks because I don't have a berth. But the reason it partly does not suck is that the Delhi Daredevils and the Deccan Chargers are on war and Deccan need 19 off 10 balls. By the time I'm done, they will be done too.

Well I read this book today, The Reluctant Fundamentalist, and it was good, but you know what? Fuck the book and fuck this train full of college girls. Full? There are no less than 23 girls from one college, I heard the TTE say. But sadly, this is a point in time when there's more than girls to my life. There's the rotten Mumbai trip behind and the unwelcome Bangalore prospect ahead. There's also loads of irritation over a couple of Indian female authors - namely, Tishani Doshi and Rashmi Bansal.

1. Mumbai trip and Bangalore prospect - Well, the last time I was here was right after the Goa trip that went down in history as the cheapest fucking trip anyone ever made to Goa and Mumbai. Please excuse the over-use of the word 'fuck' as you read this. I am trying to recover from a tremendous overdose of Gujarati and Marathi and it brought back unpleasant memories of the four years I spent in Ahmedabad.

So the last time, I (and so would Sam, Kat, Vaibhav Gautam and Mutta) remember traveling in trains and having a totally shit time in the process. I also remember Ghatkopar, where we stayed and how it made us feel like people in need of UNESCO support. Then there was the Gateway of India which is basically India Gate except that it isn't. So watching Gateway felt like nothing at all. Lastly there were the girls with fancy cameras on Gateway who were supposed to mail us pics of us standing, looking bored, but they didn't since there's no point keeping in touch with ugly people.

This visit was different. The trains didn't kick my nuts, the taxis did. Not lowly poor Ghatkopar but rich and swank Juhu-Santa Cruz was where I parked my ass every night and it was a real fucking honor to eat shit near Amitabh Bachchan's home. And Gateway didn't suck; the combination of Taj and Gateway did. It's not as if the Taj wasn't as noticeable earlier but since everyone ogles at it a little more after the terrorist attacks, it has turned cocky. Those camera girls weren't there and an anti-terrorism-pro-peace gathering had replaced them and the speaker auntie's enthusiasm was freaky. And then there were Juhu and Chowpati - Kumbh ka Melas sans naked, high, man-eating, awesome sadhus. No spirituality up for grabs, only over-priced pav bhaji.

And what of Bangalore? Better place than Mumbai I find it, yet there is something amiss. The National Capital Region? the old-new city divide? history? home? punjabis? There's something about Delhi.

2. Tishani Doshi and Rashmi Bansal: Rashmi Bansal, IIMA graduate, author of Stay Hungry Stay Foolish - a book about 25 IIMA entrepreneurs, has narrated tales that may be summarized thus:

Person gets into IIMA. Person is tits and becomes entrepreneur. Person is rich, the end, fuck off.

For the book, I forgive her, but for not knowing where to put spaces and commas and full stops. In the era of Word, she deserves to be sued for stupidity. Fuck all of them IIM-IIT authors.

Tishani Doshi is a totally different case though. She writes on Cricinfo about the IPL nowadays and is authoring the biography of Muttiah Muralidaran. She has written articles about the following, no kidding:

One on MS Dhoni being handsome, one on the best butts in IPL, yet another on the 'coolest' teams of IPL
Mandira Bedi being sexy
Chennai losing matches for having "lost that lovin' feeling"

Sadly these articles are not part of a point-counterpoint series where a sensible male author could write contrasting articles about:

Dhoni looks okay but the truth remains that you're horny and depraved and you write shit
Bedi's tits sag just a little even as Rakhi Sawant is looking for a guy to marry in a new reality show, so the BSE rose by 4% which is unmistakeable indication that Tishani Doshi should shut the fuck up
Chennai is winning now and thus Tishani Doshi must make it a point to either be teabagged or to burn her keyboard, both of which will give me equal satisfaction.

Today she wrote that it surprised her that a country that came up with the Taj Mahal could come up with something as ugly as the IPL trophy. I try to imagine the satisfaction she would've derived from the argument and it makes you feel not like pointing out that by her logic one should be able to use the anus to sip cola, but like stabbing your brain out of the agony of having to accept that people like her are this country's elite authors and journalists.

PS: This was long and pointless and not funny. Anyway, Delhi had won before I could complete the second paragraph. Deccan lost seven wickets for 12 runs in 17 balls at the end and a certain Rajat Bhatia made them beg for mercy, which wasn't coming. Varun Khaitan Reddy and his wife can say my name as Delhi has defeated Deccan for the fourth time in two IPLs now.

Sehwag said "we have a motivation that if we win, we get US$50,000 from our franchises". That he said because he is a brainless marad Jat.

The IITK Girls Hostel T-Shirt Design

2009-05-07T03:55:00.000-07:00

The title is self-explanatory. Hall 1 is the hostel where the fourth year male students stay. Here's the design and it begs the following questions:

What does it have written all over it: "Fuck Me" or "fuck me" or "fck meh"?

See, there's a difference: The first one can come only from a sophisticated whore. The second phrase may be uttered by one who's not in a total hurry but is stupid nevertheless. The third one, however, can come only from one that has loads of attitude and cares a damn about grammar. For instance, a super stud-ass Type 3 whore may end a sentence like THIS!!

Since when did the GH start selling its sexuality?

To the uninitiated, it might sound surprising, but this has gone on long enough. Everyone knows they're ugly. Hell, I'm ugly too but then I don't come up with T-Shirt designs like this:

When boys know they're ugly, they keep shut. When girls know they're ugly... that's the sad part, they seem to never know they're ugly. Girls in IITK are ugly, and too thick to know it. They have been known to strut around with constipated looks on their faces during Antaragni, waiting to get noticed. And write stupid articles and wear stupid dresses and so on and so forth. I have every right to hate them from the core of my heart. The difference between a slut and a whore is that a slut does it for pleasure while a whore does it for something in return. That's why Miranda House produces good old sluts while we're stuck with whores who'd do it to pass or do it for a job.

Why am I worked up?

That's because the worst part about being an IITian is the tag. It's not just about the girls, but all the other complete assholes who're IITians too. To be thrown into a category with them is a complete agony and disgrace.

Thus I disown this place. I swear I had nothing to do with the complete idiots that go out of here. I swear I had nothing to do with the good ones either.

Vote, yeah?

2009-05-07T03:29:00.001-07:00

Down with the Italians, Narendra Modi anyone?
Go vote, man.

I'm on the train to Mumbai and technology is gawd, dawg.

7.2, 7.3, 7.7, 7.6, 6.7, 5.3, 7.6

2009-04-22T16:53:00.001-07:00

One more number to join them. Do you get what I'm talking about? Just get it man. Why don't you get it man? Please just get it.

Help this pussy: If you can, make a brute. I shall be thankful. http://matmaaroplzzzz.mybrute.com

Venomous shit coming up soon, and it has nothing to do with me having downloaded the Indian Premier League up my ass, or people jerking off into their spare resumes.

Photos - Long Buried

2009-04-10T23:41:00.000-07:00

Found these photographs in long forgotten folders.

1. National Art Gallery, New Delhi

2. Vagator Beach, Goa

3. View from Mummy's office window, Nehru Place, New Delhi

4. Ravan-man on Dussehra Night, New Delhi

5. Ram-man, Ramlila, New Delhi

Over

2009-03-30T13:09:00.000-07:00

Galaxy got over last morning, at around 2am. Hall 3's group won it, while Hall 2's was runner-up and Hall 5's was third. The last few days were hell. Here's a recap of the entire festival:

Day one:

It started with the parade. Hall 2 (team Rajputs) was led by their sultan on a horse, Hall 3 (team Mauryans) by a man in a lion suit and Hall 5 (team Mughals) was led by their team of skaters doing stunts with their cyclists. Those numbers on the road with that spirit was a sight to behold. They proceeded to the Convo Grounds for the Rock competition and after that, Galaxy Day one got over with the Antakshari.

Day two:

The Main Quiz - Jayant and Panji, you guys are something. Pick a career in being quizmasters. And Soham Ganguly has done himself justice by picking a career in not being quiz participant.
English Debate - I doubt if Bhal (the debate-winner and future-IIMA-slut) can forget the one-on-one with Jishnu. I'll remember it too, since it was the biggest cliffhanger of a debate I've witnessed yet. And a note to myself: there's this girl called Neetisha who is not to be messed with if the debate is to be learned from.

Day three:

Pair on stage, Music: Unexpectedly high-quality, I was told.
Pair on stage, Dance: Ugh, just wait till the Dance Drama results.
20 Questions: Aadhar and I felt really important and stupid to have conducted it, as the mosquitoes in the LHC foyer were a pain in the ass and everywhere else.
Naruto Fan Quiz: For the world's most awesome Naruto quiz yet, give it up for me.

Day Four:

Harry Potter Quiz: Sample question by PG, the quizmaker:

"With this the creators achieved their goal,
Alas, one poor victim of these was Reginald Cattermole,
Their are varieties four,
If you ask for part marks,
I shall call your mom a whore."

(The answer can go fuck itself, spare a thought for the girl participants)

Dance Drama: Here's where it started. Hall 2 performed a most entertaining and flawless Dance Drama performance. Everyone in the audience, Hall 3 and Hall 2 people alike, were of the opinion it would win. But the results, Hall 5 first, Hall 3 second and Hall 2 third left everyone shocked, including me. Then came the sad news that the judge was Hall 5's warden, however the verdict was shared by the other guy, a dance trainer. Well, then there was the ensuing chaos where it took me an hour in the Hall 2 quad to calm everyone down and save Galaxy from premature termination and boycott.

Day Five:

And then began Hall 3's fast extension of its lead. The results were pouring in and after the Dance Drama, Hall 2 had lost a lot of gas in protest.

Recreate a Masterpiece competition: Komaljit, the dark horse of IIT Kanpur's fine arts is the anonymous genius. His recreation of Van Gogh's "Starry Night" was breathtaking to say the least.

Stage Play: Hall 3's play outclassed the other two, but there was more controversy to come. The decision to extend the time limit to 65 minutes (notwithstanding the reversal of the same) left Hall 2 and Hall 5 fuming and Hall 5's damaged structure, the Trojan Horse, was left abandoned. This is where I gave up, the only such instance in Galaxy, and try as I might, they wouldn't budge. With Anuj, I did convince them in the morning to give it one more shot, but I sorely regret that their massive Trojan Horse was not completed.

Day Six:

Hall 2 would have to come up with a lot of luck and something extraordinary to erase the points deficit they were reeling under. Well, here are the big last five:

Nukkad: Once Hall 2 was done with the Nukkad, they knew it was nearly over. This is where the lead went up to 180.
Eastern band Competition: There was no match for Hall 5 as they put up a performance more clinical than the Music Club itself.
Backdrop: Here's where Hall 2 lost it. With third, their chances had all but gone.
Freestyle Dance: Hall 2! After the Dance Drama disaster, they came to the stage in visible fury, and set it on fire. They had not one but seven frontmen as the cap of frontmans-ship was passed around in supreme style. The team didn't stay to hear the results.
Structures: The Big One. The structures competition holds as much weightage as all of the Dram events combined, or for that matter, all the Dance, Fine Arts, Musical and Literary ones too. Hall 3's ship was a piece of art and Hall 2's castle was an exhibit of precision and raw brilliance. It came down to such a point that each hated the other's structure with as much spite as was possible to gather. However, Hall 2's castle, with the Theo Jansen horses, chariot, trebuchets, cannons, elephants and the Buckminster fullerene dome was too much to be ignored, and they came out champions of the structures competition.

And Finally

Well, what happened next was hard to fathom. Hall 3 had won, and their victory procession, that wasn't allowed inside Hall 2 decided to pay Hall 1 a visit, where they only spectators were PG, Sam, Tutu and me. Ah, the abuse. We were honoured. Well done, we said and ate a little mithai.

Yeah, fuck off

2009-03-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

This blog is boring. What happened to your sense of humour, shitfaces? The best the lot of you can come up with is a lame "so why don't you go fuck off then??" joke. If you want to read a blog with a real sense of humour, go here -->

http://www.maabehenjokes.blogspot.com

If you don't click on the link though, it's still okay. You can go sex your parivar.

--
Durable Plastic.

King in the Castle

2009-03-12T13:00:00.000-07:00

Sam's stuff is outside my room, under the Hendrix. Manish's stuff is outside the room too, under the Morrison. I got myself a new phone number and the number of HCL's service center. No kidding, my room's clean and habitable.

In all seriousness I'm King in the Castle. A couple of things:

The Queens Baton Relay at India Gate. Take a look. 1 2 3
Bhal's dormant blog is up again. Cheap ass Bhal has written about all his IIM interviews and has included Adsense to earn monies. If you're in IITK, use the proxy mask to make sure he doesn't get paid. If you're not in IITK, don't read his blog at all.

About the author: If you're a 50 year old person looking to marry your daughters off, Bhal is your man (tall, dark, ugly but rich man from good Hindu family). Else, he's boring and you should ask him to fuck off. His life underwent a massive change the day he saw Kheti sleeping with his yellosmelly, and he's had terrible nightmares regarding the same. He often woke up fearing he'd done the same, but each time it turned out he was only sleeping with Mrityu's cat with her pants down which calmed him down greatly. I hope that pisses the 50 year olds off.

A Mark

2009-03-09T00:45:00.000-07:00

Let me begin by explaining what this post is not about. It is not a vague reference to the sad fact that often we, the people manage nothing more than a mark in the exams we have to so frequently take. It is also not a mark or two we'd like to leave behind when we leave this place. Had we been capable, we would have done so long long ago. The sad truth we need to embrace is that we're just another bunch of people passing out that no one will care about in time. But we make amends. People come and go but Youtube videos stay forever. And so do signs of vandalism. I'm not telling you what we plan to do but like Deidara says, art is a bang (give it up for highly unncessary links to manga characters' highly wtf droolings). This post is also not about an emo Mark. Har har har.

I'm talking more in terms of what a dog does to mark its territory. Humans have similar tendencies. Like these people.

Sameer Singh: It's pretty easy to identify if samsingh was at your room. What he would normally do is ignore everything else, and go after the computer. Now you have to simply go to your browser's history and search for empflixdotcom, slutloaddotcom or tube8dotcom. You shall find that none of these figures in the results. Why? Because he's a clever one. Not totally, though. You shall also find that all your browsing history and form data is gone. That's how he rolls - brute force and not selective deletion of proof of his crimes. Number 2 - if you happen to have saved your Skype password, beware - he might just turn down random invitations for "gandi baatein" and start cybering men instead.
Soham Ganguly: Soham Ganguly is slightly tricky to discover. What you can do is ask around the neighbourhood if a drunk Bangali madman was puking/peeing on their house or breaking their cycles on Fridays and Saturdays. But that will not necessarily work since after all, drunk Bangali vandals are to be found dime a dozen everywhere which is the only way to explain Communism. What you could do, however, is check if the drunk Bangali vandal could be provoked into smashing alcohol bottles on your head by insulting Jawaharlal Nehru University or lady students thereof. This would confirm your man is lovelorn Ganguly, although I should warn you that identifying Ganguly is really not worth a painful death.
Prashant Gautam: This one is easy to identify too. What you have to do is pay the toilet a little visit and there you have it. Prashant Gautam believes smoking helps his bowel movement and perched atop the holiest of holies, he smokes. But block the drain he won't. That could well be the consideration but it won't be surprising if it is being protective of a cigarette's dignity for the sake of which he won't let the butt share the same fate as yellosmelly; either way, he doesn't flush the butt away. That's his mark - a couple of butts in the toilet, not of the same kind though.

PS: yellosmelly is one of only four words in the world that start with 'y' and end with 'y'. The other three are yummy, yolky and yucky.

Wow, so saarcaastic yeah

2009-03-06T14:30:00.001-08:00

Yay! There are wonderful beautiful noir pubes in the toilets. Wow! Aaahh! Yay for awesomeness and attractiveness!

Spam

2009-03-03T00:30:00.000-08:00

Dear Kheti,

You will find the pic attached below very useful. Not that you will necessarily need this, but everyone including you just has to know you don't deserve anything better:

Snopes

2009-02-26T14:35:00.000-08:00

This is from the mighty secret IITK archives of (hardly) urban legends about the campus, some true and some untrue. Here is the truth, off the record, on the q.t. and very hush hush.

1. Legend: The IITK crow is a metallic structure of not a crow, but crow shit.

Status: false

Truth: Well, no one knows the guy who designed the Crow, but he definitely did not intend to make the crow any of the following:

illustrative of a scientific principle
illustrative of metallurgical excellence
illustrative of anything beautiful
illustrative of a crow

However, it isn't any of the following either:

crow (or anyone else's) shit
a result of extra metal left after the rest of IITK was built and done with
nuthin' but a g thang

Here is the Snopes super-sleuth insider information on the Crow:

The Kelkarian Crow was meant to be a prank.
It lacks a penis, though it does have a super-open butt.
Thus, it is us, the students.

2. Legend: Despite all the talk about lack of women, there is a lot of sex in IIT Kanpur

Status: true

Truth: Yes, there is indeed a lot of sex here. >:-) They did it, and so did they. And the funny thing about those two is that both of them are males. And yes, that cat Mrityu owned was a little more than a pet. No wonder it ran away that soon. The might secret IITK archives have all the details like time, venue, photographs, videos, audio books, citations, etc. No, I'm not talking about professors.

More urban legends to follow. Time to do English homework and read Naruto again. He's got six tails now. Guh.

Whose Guide to the Galaxy?

2009-02-09T14:03:00.000-08:00

Galaxy to IIT Kanpur junta means a lot more than a bunch of stars.

People here have heard a lot about Galaxy but no one has actually seen one yet. We've heard the pressure of competition used to assist the masses in failing courses. They used to make astounding structures and backdrops, would enact the toughest plays, would practice for everything till they dropped and all of that came from that burning desire to win. Thirty batches of IITK saw Galaxy. They said Galaxy had no parallel and would have no parallel in their lives.

I'm talking about this guy.

Reading through the entire letter tells a lot about how an entire institute believed in the importance of this one trophy. For this one instance, I want to dig deeper. The blog entry is emotional and on a smaller level, so is the paragraph above this one. But this isn't an ode to Galaxy.

Needless to mention, winning Galaxy would be cool, but what no one at IIT Kanpur, with the exception of Sukrit, ever taught me was how to be a good loser. As regards winning, for certain, no one here knows shit about handling a win.

Learn to shut the fuck up. If you lose, appreciate and if you win, do not gloat.
What does it mean to gloat? You know, the parades - they're sick.
Earn respect. If you can win and still command respect for your fair game and attitude, you've won a lot more than Galaxy. If you lose and still command respect, you know what you were worth.
Be relentless in the right places. Learn to cheer, not to boo.
Be fair. Cheat and you're the worst team there is.

I hope Hall 2 wins but if they don't and yet learn to go down dignified, they were not bad at all.

PS: I sound weird. I forgot how to write serious stuff, but I've tried hard.

Sassy - the Man behind the Chull

2009-02-05T02:54:00.000-08:00

To enumerate a few of the too many Chullies (translates roughly to a bug up the ass) Sassy has:

Hindu Muslim Unity
Muslim Christian Unity
Christian Nudist Unity
Nudist Republican Unity
Republican Nigger Unity

And all nC2 (= n!/2!*(n-2)!) combinations of the above set of sects. There are more issues that don't let him sleep at night, and many incomplete self-assigned tasks that he has on his hands. Far too many virtues for one man:

To brush teeth twice a day
To convince people to not eat animals
To not drink water 30 minutes before or after having food
To donate 1/3rd of all that he spends to the poor
To ensure you worship Goddess Saraswati

Probably the only thing that's strange is the amount of porn he watches. Excessive, yes, but no incest, and no gaydom, maybe just a little bit of lesbianness but no gaydom. You can tell he is a god fearing man.

Of late he has been troubled due to various reasons. One of them is the lack of people who listen to him patiently for 5 minutes and resist the temptation to say "So why don't you go and fuck off then, Shashi?"

Thus, Sassy has broken loose and permitted me to tell you all - he has blogged the shit out of himself, people. You see the link in my blogroll called "Sassy"? Click, but don't comment rudely. He is a peace loving man, and all his poetry is harmless. Probably.

Statement of Purpose

2009-02-04T09:56:00.000-08:00

I don't think I've told you yet that I recommended a guy to Stanford Business School, have I? No.

I did man, that's so cool, it kicks actually going to Stanford Business School's ass. It's like drinking chilled VAT 69 with ice cubes in an air-conditioned car on the highest glacier of the North Pole, naked. Totally cool. Leave that guy alone though, he's talentless and uncool, but he knew the right people and that goes a long way, you know what I'm saying?

Anyway, IIMB writes to me and asks me to consider their PhD degree too, but I ain't going because of various reasons:

I don't like.
Sister's spies in the place.
I don't want to study with another set of non young, talented and sexy people.
Not, especially, for 5 years.
And not when I'm getting almost okay at engineering.
Who'll write the damned SOP?
I don't qualify for the PhD programme, not without 2 years of work experience.

It all occurred to me in the same order, actually - snip snip blood. Luckily or unluckily, it isn't time for an SOP yet.

But yes, whenever I do, I swear to write a completely honest SOP. Here it is:

Why an MBA from IIM X?

Dear Sir,

It is my dream to get rich. Richer beyond most people's wildest imagination. I want all the money I can possibly get, and I want it a.s.a.p. In spite of reading Shiv Khera, Deepak Chopra and Stephen Covey, I screwed up. One could say I'm rich now, but that isn't what I had in mind. I'm talking about more, much more. See, I'm ready to make all the right choices.

You know, to choose a job, choose an investment bank, choose a vertical, choose a boss, choose a subordinate, choose a team, choose a cubicle, choose a branch, choose a commodity, choose a derivative, choose a stock exchange, choose the back office, choose being the front office's lady, choose a firm to screw, choose working on weekends, choose Excel sheets, choose density functions, choose regression analysis, choose fucking with the IT guys, choose a meeting room, choose a conference call, choose a doomsday prediction, choose a buyer, choose a different bank, choose a rate of interest, choose a rate of disinterest, choose this life.

I choose this life. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got all the money you ever wanted? It's my statement of purpose, sir. Help me get rich.

eng123

2009-01-28T23:56:00.000-08:00

Who remembers Start Me Up, and who's seen the video? Mick Jagger's dance is lolwowussia. No, forget his dance, I'm talking about the lyrics: "You make a grown man cry".

I've wailed about English courses in the past too, but this time's pawteaness takes the cake. It takes the cake and eats it too. Then flushes it down the commode and eats it again, and has it once more and so on and so forth.

Agonizing as it has become to strip bare a story, it is the last thing that bothers me, and PG too this time. Antagonist: teachermadam. Read this:

"I am writing to the two of you separately from the rest of the class because I want to make my displeasure with your behaviour today absolutely clear... blah blah... aggressive... black sheep... were insistent on making the presenters 'say' it... have you any wool... ONLY purpose was to make the presenters uncomfortable... yessir yessir... such power play is absolutely unacceptable in class... yo momma's a whore... I will NOT TOLERATE..."

Sigh, hate mail from professors. It's time to retire. Time for us to retire I mean. To get a measure of how bad it got, imagine that she compared us to the Roadies interviewers - the bald brothers. No taste, seriously.

Anniversary I forgot to write about

2009-01-27T11:20:00.000-08:00

It's one year since I was elected to the post of not-GenSecCultCouncil. Weow maen!

We have an entirely new breed of politicians now. If you remember well, Ganguly created his Resurrection blog soon after those elections and the resulting second elections, where he was elected to the post of not-FestiCoordiAntaragni. I wonder if he will delete that blog now, since Hall 2 has kicked sweet political ass.

@ Ganguly: There's a nice excuse to delete that repulsive blog.

Of course, we have a misguided notion of 'the enemy'. As many (Kheti) are sweet enough to remind me at least twice a day, I swallow a lot of Hall 3 cockaccino nowadays. I don't have good defence, though I don't accept the charges, of course. If not for the busy-ness, I could alternatively get drunk and bitchslap the institute president and kill innocent bicycles but I probably won't.

Hall2's 3rd and 2nd yearites had a grand rally in front of GenSecCultCouncil and FestiCoordiAntaragni's wing three days back, though. Undoubtedly they savour the victory, and found returning last year's favour to be quite an entertaining exercise. That it definitely was, but not almost as entertaining as it was stupid, and didn't even come close to being as brainless as the thanksgiving trip to Hall 4 afterwards.

Before I forget, let me ask all of you to do me a favour and send your most cruel thoughts to presidential@in.com.

One last note: Do not trust B-Middians when they tell you they saw his girlfriend that night, doing that to that other guy, at that hour that night, since all of that is bullshit.

Internal Joke

2009-01-13T12:22:00.000-08:00

Knock Knock
Who's there?
Kattu's doctor.
Kattu's doctor who?
Kattu's doctor with the anal probe.

For documentation.

Nailed the Potty Truth

2009-01-05T07:59:00.000-08:00

Andu introduced me to this very interesting blog today, that of an alumnus. There is this must-mention post on the blog, titled "A Front/Rear Side Story". In brief, the post is on how you prefer to wipe your butt after you take a crap.

Quote:

90% of people who participated in the poll didn't even know that you can splash water from the other direction!
95% of the participants felt that splashing water from the other direction was practically impossible and couldn't understand why anyone would do it

Yes, well, that makes a lot of sense. I do it from the front (since you're restless to know) and yes, I do wonder why anyone would do it from the rear, especially since western toilets don't allow such a manoeuvre. I do not wish to question Pegu's research on the topic, so let me just say here that if really exactly 50% of the people in the world do it from either side, I consider myself extremely lucky. Let me tell you how:

This story is the story of a man who used the rear side.

I'd always known of people who used the rear side since, well, I've seen people do it that way. As my school bus passed the Mayur Vihar naala each morning, one could spot as many people pottying as one wished. Let me point out here that as much as someone insists they would never look that way if they were in my position, they would. Maybe because there isn't anything more interesting to look at early in the morning, or maybe because there is the see-it-to-believe-it enigma surrounding the anus (or asshole, which definitely sounds more polite than anus), one ends up looking that-a-way. In a non-perverted way, it never actually disgusted me much.

So there was this rear-side user, let us give him an arbitrary name: Sameer Singh. Oops, shit, yeah.

Like all poor people, he was on a train headed home this last mid-semester break. Now I am told that Sameer Singh doesn't like using toilets on the train since they are unhygienic. But this time, he really felt like taking a poopoo. So he went ahead, shed a few tears of mourning, took a deep breath and stepped inside.

And he did the honours.

Now the global meltdown had hit India by this time, and the Indian railways was feeling the heat. To cut down on costs, they decided to put a stop to stealing of toilets mugs, which seem to have become hot property. Now these mugs used to simply lie around in the past, but the government decided to chain them to the taps so that people wouldn't just walk away with them.

Coming back to Sameer Singh, he sat there, perplexed. Obviously the one who suggested the chains was a front-side user (see link above), and I can well imagine other peoples' response to his suggestion in that meeting of the Indian Railways. Desperate to get away from the potty topic, they agreed to whatever he said, and the rear-side users blinked twice, as they made a mental note to carry mugs with them next time they traveled in a train.

Sameer Singh had no clue what to do next. How does one proceed, he asked the Almighty, as he broke into a sweat. There was only one way out, he knew.

"To use the front side" was what you might say.

Incorrect.

Sameer Singh got up, turned around, and did what I now think millions of Indians must have done by now. He washed it off from the rear side. After the much essential walk in the toilet. Aah, he really did look the way he looks in that pic that appears after his poem.

And that is why I consider myself really lucky, to be a front-sided person.

The Retarded Face of IIT Kanpur

2008-12-27T12:29:00.000-08:00

http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=oCpMzB1hut4

"Dramatics Club and the legendary nukkad. It is known to have helped people get recruited by Deutsche Bank and Mckinsey."

See, I do better publicity.

Haiku

2008-12-21T00:44:00.002-08:00

Haikus are stupid. The only good thing about Haikus is that though they waste your time, they waste not too much of your time, and time is money, and Money and Time are two songs by Pink Floyd, and I'd rather listen to Pink Floyd than read Haikus. Here's why Haikus are stupid:

1. If man ever made a machine to do something, the work had to be stupid. There isn't a machine in the world that is doing something you'd rather do yourself. A machine is a non-living being and is by definition, unintelligent. That puts it rather low in the intelligence hierarchy.

Human Adult > Dolphin > Monkey > Pig > Skunk > Algae >> Machine = Turd = Any other non-living thing.

It is safe to assume that machines are incapable of creating art. But yes, there still are Haiku-generator engines out there. Like this one: http://www.everypoet.com/haiku/default.htm

An example from the Haiku engine:

"parrot swaggers, sun

romping sleek cowgirls jeering

snowbird cajoling"

- A meaningless creation of the Haiku engine

Once you've read a few more of these, you'll be able to see through the entire algorithm. This doesn't mean these Haikus are lesser Haikus than the Haikus you write, what it means is that a dumb beast is as much of a Haiku-writer as you can be.

2. Kids can write Haikus too. Let me go back to the intelligence hierarchy I left incomplete:

Algae >> Machine = Turd > Human Child

Machines and turds are lucky - they don't need much assistance to survive. In fact, I bet they wouldn't care much about survival if they knew their purpose, karma, destiny. Children of all other species are as intelligent as their elders. But a human child is a liability to society. They lack the most basic instinct of all - survival. That is, a human child cannot wipe its ass even if the gesture earned it enough goodwill to survive. Five years into this world, it learns to wipe its ass, but it makes up for this loss by acquiring other qualities like throwing tantrums.

And if the internet is to be believed, these very kids are writing haikus of their own. Teachers say it makes them feel intelligent and creative (read less of a nuisance). But the truth is that children are made to write haikus since they are too stupid to write lines that rhyme, just like the Japanese.

3. I can write haikus too. Stuff that I do ranges from the mechanical to the plagiarist. I don't think it ever is good enough to be called creative. And the fact that I can write haikus is proof that haikus are over-rated 17 syllabic pseudo-poetic non-creative pieces of poopoo. Here, read a few of my own haikus:

Long winter, too cold
Drop of dew on my window,
Screw stupid winter.

Poetry takes more
than seventeen syllables
Haikus are just gay.

Here's a sample stu-
pid fucking haiku, ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha.

QED.

Sautan [1]

2008-12-03T21:47:00.000-08:00

Being romantically involved with somebody is a known cause for ass-pain. Being after someone is bad enough actually, because you might turn out all heartbroken from the ordeal (like Bong friend Ronnie) and then you might try to be poetic/emo which makes you quite detestable.

Let me just come to the point. When you are with someone you tend to keep finding better people you could have been with and then you just become Bewafaa [2]. Take VG. He has a girlfriend, but is after another girl from IIT. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against bewafai. Be confused and indiscriminate and slutty, but the bad part is what you inflict upon others. Others not as in who you were with. Screw him/her. Their fault that they don't look good enough/ are not funny enough/ don't last long/ detest oral sex/ like oral sex/ are out of romantic things to say/ are broke/ will be broke/ got spotted jerking off/ have generally stuck too long to have become horrible/ got mommies who're bad in-law material.

There might be a million other legit reasons to leave your partner. It's not your fault, don't be harsh on yourself. Then it is again their fault that they still talk sweet, which makes you go weak in the knees every time you decide you will hint that you're bored now, and that they should just get the heck out of your life now without much drama. Thus you are left with not many options but to screw around behind their back. Never have an inch of it on your conscience.

But take VG. I think he roams around the campus with a pack of condoms on him and before you make an oversmart comment like "it's better that way" let me remind you that it shows you're a big slut. So that is what VG is - a slutty male. Good for him, his girlfriend's in Pune and he needs/ wants his share of hauu till that gets sorted out. But there's not good reason to be sneaky with your friends is what I mean to say. Not when you're asked about it. Don't be like:

"What girl?", "that a man's phone number", "it's just Antaragni marketing work", "yeah, tell my girlfriend", "but why the fuck will you tell my girfriend?", "who?", "i swear on dharti maa, and what was that song again?", "no", "fuck you", "i'll fuck yo momma", "cocksucker, no".

Don't be like VG. See when he gets married, to whichever of the two it finally is, we shall have tales like this to share. On the other hand, if you were conniving with us for a change, you know, strategizing and colluding with us across the table, involving us and asking for tips on how to cheat, what alibis to present, what reasons to give for that Merovingianian lipstick mark, and when and how to just dump your partner, we would be party to the crime. And criminals don't give other criminals up.

They stick with you, coz they're made out of glue. Be a bro man, let us help you fuck 'em o'er.

Key:

[1] Sautan: The whore you cheat on your partner with.
[2] Bewafa: The treacherous whore that you are.

The Making of Bithoor the Movie

2008-11-25T00:21:00.000-08:00

Did you hear about the Bithoor movie? Did you hear about the young, talented and sexy director Kat? Or the phenomenal cameraman Sam? Or the actor who is touted as the next 007, VG?

As one semester after the other arrives and passes, IIT Kanpur goes through the motions, with the creation of 400-500 corporate sluts every alternate semester being its biggest achievement. Sometimes people run off for degrees abroad and at other times they do their MBAs, and at yet other times they stay unemployed with "Engineer, IIT" placards in their hands. That is the folly of following the system - no one recognizes brilliance in this nation, what they recognize is GPA.

But to break free takes courage. So a few brave engineers set out to achieve the impossible. As part of their ART410 course, the three men called Kat, Sam and VG set out on a quest that took them to the murkiest locales of Kanpur, with their mission being to shoot a documentary on Bithoor, the Ganga-ghat of Kanpur.

The revelations they made with their documentary will leave you stunned and panting for more. It is rumoured that the content of the documentary has forced none other than Mananiya Behen Kumari Mayawati to ban its screening throughout the state. The institute authorities summoned the three of them last night for an emergency meeting where they analyzed the video, wordlessly. To silence these journalist-crusaders will take much more than life threats is what I hear. Keep going people, we shall mourn upon your grave, and shall forever be proud of what you did.

A Glimpse of the Making (Video deleted lest this blog be discovered by मा. बहन मायावती):

www.attachment.tumblr.com (Voice by VG - true names not mentioned for their safety)

Feed 'em

2008-11-04T16:21:00.000-08:00

There aren't any bare breasts on YouTube... not!

Well it was hilarious at first, the breast-feeding videos on YouTube. That was an year or more ago I guess. But then when you click on Charlie Bit My Finger... again! for the twentieth time, you tend to wander off to Mommy I don't like you! from where you might just head off to Kick My Ass (for the twenty-fifth time) and just a few clicks ahead lies Leprechaun gold.

But of course it will not be banned. It's just a mother feeding her dear child and oh my God, does the love just ooze out or what? (from the screen of course... well no okay, I mean from the nipple)

And what's more? It's supposed to be educational, which means if someone asks "mind if I latch on the other one?" politely, he's reprimanded for being vulgar and immature. It just calls for a blog entry.

Video 1: Breastfeeding Sounds ("This video lets you hear what a breastfeeding baby sounds like when properly latched onto the breast.").

What can one say? Listening to "puch puch" for those few minutes was very informative.

Video 2: Breastfeeding... at 8 ("Kids who are a little too attached")

Clever user comment: "I'm 37. Do ya think that I can get some? Maybe in my corn flakes?"

Video 3: Olivia's first breast-feeding in Motol Hospital Prague (description says "Olinkin prvy-druhy-treti den v Motolskej nemocnici" - not sure what it means but I catch 'prvy' and 'treti')

That's right Daddy. It was very useful to know your wife's name. Even more useful was to know the hospital's name. Obviously the video doesn't ask if you're more than 18 years old because everyone should be watching an arbitrary guy's wife's nipples, whatever their age.

And clever song choice - Daddy picked the song that had the word "baby" the most number of times.

Result:
"Just can't wait until tonight baby!
Till I have you by my side, baby!"

Good for me, keep the love coming, lactate in my face. I need all that education - it isn't all that explicit in Backdoor Sluts 9 (wonder if they're upgrading in 10).

2008-11-04T14:54:00.000-08:00

Okay, comments are on now. But I still don't give a shit about your opinion, fags! I'm too cool for that now.

2008-11-04T14:49:00.000-08:00

Commenting is off because I don't give a shit about your opinion, fags!

A Little Trouble

2008-11-04T14:22:00.000-08:00

Now that I'm here for the rest of eternity, let me start with a few words about the asswipe that PG is. Being high can make you do a lot of stupid things. Bong slept in his own vomit once, Sam decided it was totally appropriate to doze off topless outside his own room, Mutta invents words like "thapping" and "aya-boya" when high, and let us just not talk about Shivam.

But talk about PG I will. He is, as I rightly pointed out not too long ago, an asswipe. High as he was, he found it very funny to advertize the URL http://angstromsunited.blogspot.com in totally inappropriate places.

It was perhaps a check of manliness. Or maybe it was hilarious to imagine my busted face. Or yet another possibility is that his highness was acting plain stupid. My problem being this: this is nowhere land. No one comes here, no one will ever read this, and yet I use capital letters in all the right places because I'm hooked.

Hmm, I should keep my balls on. Yeah, dude, PG, peace out man, one love ma nigga.

Place called Vagator

2008-11-01T08:58:00.000-07:00

There are few things in life that are worth being called a nice memory. There are fewer of those if you are me. Nice things I remember:

Posing as Inspector for photo
Accidentally stepping on class bitch's finger, making her cry
Being pen-fight king in standard VII
Cubs and Bulbuls Camp - taking a dump once in four days
Physics teacher in standard XII
Riding Scooty to tuition classes, standard XI
Being the only male with 6 females in tuition classes, standard X
Odyssey, St. Xavier's School, Loyola Hall - kicking major Loyola ass, standard X
Antaragnis - all of them
Goa, last year.

If you calculate, there is none but one instance there when I had fun on some idiotic trip. The thing with me being this: I do not like idiotic fucking trips. There is no way you could put me in Switzerland and get gratitude in return. It has got nothing to do with foreign lands - all lands are foreign and stupid. I despise traveling - with a bullock cart, car, train, plane, I hate them all. Most of them all, planes. Terrifying, planes are. I go cold.

Digressing.

Point being, I do not like vacationing. Yet there is one trip in that list - the Goa trip. The awesome Goa trip last year. I can only guess it was the people and the incidents that made it rule this much. Be it the under-, ill-, and stupidly- informed group that we were, the cheapness that we so loved, the bikini chicks on Vagator, the 50.67ml of beer that Kat got high on, the bike riders who got so busted while we watched, the Banana that killed Vaibs Gay, the photographer chicks on Gateway whom Mutta almost molested, fashion street (!), the local trains, Srinath bhaiya who offered us Daaru a 100 times, the charas-man whom Sam wished he could entertain, the commode we made in the sand on Calangute, the pimps whose phone numbers Vaibs Gay still has, the slut that smiled at Sam (or was it Mutta, no one will ever be able to tell), the How Can He Slap moment between Kattu and Vaibs, the 12km walk from Vagator to Calangute through the darkest forest, the ferry-ride we never took, the strong urge to shit that Vaibs Gay couldn't resist, Aunty - who always smiled at whatver we did, the highly overpriced 100-rupee straw hat Sam bought that lies in my cupboard at home, the topless beach in South Goa we promised we would go to the next time, the shacks we could never afford, the so-many-things we could never afford, or the so-many-things we will buy when we get old.

There is just one word for that feeling - Hauu. And for once, we got our share.

Fuck, I want one more shot at Goa. Sam please. Mutta please. PG please. All ye motherfuckers, please. I know there are a gazillion things in the background. A million sadnesses of life, a million issues we wish we could help. Since God plays dice, a half a million of all those things will get sorted out. There will still be half a million things that will fuck with your head. There are many things in this world that can double up as a dildo - a gun barrel, a banana, a bat's handle, a tubelight, a pen drive, your bottle of shampoo, your bottle of water, Mrityu's head, etcetera. They shall continue to exist. You cannot help any of it. What you can help yourself to, is a ticket to Goa. Let us buy you one, and yes, you can pay Kattu for it, if you wish.

Let's go there again. One more time. One last fucking time to be senti. One last vacation before what could be many years of toil in heartbreaking metros with stupid junta from everywhere in the surrounding space. Such a wastebasket our life is. Litter it with more crap, but starting July 2009.

Epitaph

2008-10-18T06:10:00.000-07:00

Dead man. Dal chawal butter mix. Roast turkey. You go.