Damn *%$#@#** i curse (sorry friends cant articulate these colourful expletives as i have a respectable fan following) as the lights go out yet again. Damn the rain. OK now that might sound contradictory a few days before as i was cursing the damn heat and the humidity,buts lets face it grumbling about the inconvenienvces in life is my second nature.
Finally , my sun scorched friends !!!! the monsoon has arrived in a spectacular deluge , a splendid acoustic and visual display of dancing water and punctuated by the terrifying sounds of thunder.The frogs all over have broken out into a rendition of their amphibian sonata's in their irritating baritones, and the lights flicker intermittently as i write my blog.The air is as sticky as the stale chewing gum under the chair and the air is so laden with humidity that you can almost wash your face in it.Yep folks the monsoon has finally arrived in orissa ,after eluding the eyes in the sky(read stupid indian met satellites) and all the prescient statements of the Met office.
What makes the whole situation amusing is that the monsoon always plays truant with the Met officials and they always end up with egg on their faces.
Better luck next time guys .....
I look outside and it fills my heart with eternal joy ....OK now thats too corny , all i see is winged ants overunning plants that look like the living daylights have been blown out of them after a heavy downpour.
But since i dont want to infuriate the rain gods ...let me weave a tapestry of colours as seen from the 5ft. by 5ft. window of my bedroom.
The sun scorched plants seem to have got a new lease of life as the nascent stems and leaves all reach out to savour the cold pristine water from the heavens. After a heavy downpour , the leaves are adorned with small winking diamonds perched precariously on their edges, a sight that would have made Vincent Van Gogh dance with joy.And the air is filled with the smell of damp earth that would be a delight to the olfactory senses of any monsoon lover.God himself takes up the easel to paint the dull drab brown earth with the rich hues of green(Take that Mr. Einstein ,didnt you once comment that "God doesnt play dice with the universe".Well seems like he has taken up a new hobby of painting).
OK enough of this poetic crap ...monsoon is my favorite season as it is a season of spicy ,steaming cullinary delights. Be it the oil drenched pakoras , the hot frothing coffee, the tongue burning mixtures or the warm salted cashew nuts , it is a reprieve to the hungry stomach after the hot summer (it was purely a liquid idet in the summer ).Not to forget the power cuts .....when you get to do nothing but simply laze around , deatch yourself from the monotony of books and watch in wonder the bugs throwing themselves into the candle flame.
I know that you would be thinking that food would be the sole criteria for picking monsoon as my favorite season , but i do love the season for its midas touch of life ....
So how was the blog guys ...was it enough to give keats a run for his money ....?
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
CELLINGITIS
Fast forward 10 years and suddenly all the doctors hav one more disease to handle (already overburdened from the global outbreaks of SARS, H1N1,Bird flu) and the cause of this painstaking syndrome would be none other but your innocuous looking hand held cell phone.
A visual survey of any hostel would tend to corroborate my statements. Yes look around in any of the hostels and you would find people chatting away ...left,right and centre. Head tilted , shoulders bent and stooped in various uncomfortable positions that would have ancient yoga gurus turning in their graves.And judging by their facial expressions you can always guess whether the call is from the opposite sex.
Yep when its a girl , i've noticed people shy away from the crowd(often in secluded areas),there is a perpetual half cheeky grin throughout the duration of the call and there is absolutely zero flow of some colourful expletives that you would often hear in a hostel.
Okay friends ...i know you will be after my blood when you read your names in the blog ....but i dont give a damn. There's one guy called Satya from the Elec. Telecomm. deptt. who is a beacon of inspiration to all the cellingitis patients out there. How the hell can a person remain stuck on the phone for 6 long hours straight is a mystery that cell phone network companies gleefully would like to know,, and then come out with new schemes to increase talk times. In his room , on the bed, in the mess, on the roof...and god knows where ,people like satya are sharing sweet nothings with their lovers.
And thanks to my keen powers of observation(OK , that was an exaggeration I am blind without my specs and in the night i cant see far away), I have noticed that his head often lolls to one side even when he is not on the phone ,and his voice takes on a slick ,sweet, low almost musical tone(a consequence of talking too much with a girl).
Mark my words in the next few years medical R&D companies would be coming out with medecines , journals , even mobile stands that can fit on your head while talking on the phone and various other paraphernelia related to cellingitis. doctors around the world would be conveying their thanks to me for opening a new path for research for them.
And some of these people dont tell me i didn't warn you ... Satya,Pritam Das, Sheikh,Chandan and Satyajeet.
So as concerned citizens please warn your fellow friends who are in the throes of this malady to read my blog ....otherwise they can choose to look like those deformed zombies( in cheap hollywood flicks) after 10 years.And moreover being an electrical engg. student myself , i cannot bear to know that mobile towers malfunctioning ,due to constant exposure to the mindless yakking of these idiots.
I can hear the applause from you .Yep you must be thinking how benevolent is this chap to discuss this pressing matter, to remind us that we are an example to our future generations , live testimony to the fact that we are no slaves of technology.....
Adios folks and next time you make a call spare a thought about me and my advice....well gotta go , i can hear my phone ringing....... :)
A visual survey of any hostel would tend to corroborate my statements. Yes look around in any of the hostels and you would find people chatting away ...left,right and centre. Head tilted , shoulders bent and stooped in various uncomfortable positions that would have ancient yoga gurus turning in their graves.And judging by their facial expressions you can always guess whether the call is from the opposite sex.
Yep when its a girl , i've noticed people shy away from the crowd(often in secluded areas),there is a perpetual half cheeky grin throughout the duration of the call and there is absolutely zero flow of some colourful expletives that you would often hear in a hostel.
Okay friends ...i know you will be after my blood when you read your names in the blog ....but i dont give a damn. There's one guy called Satya from the Elec. Telecomm. deptt. who is a beacon of inspiration to all the cellingitis patients out there. How the hell can a person remain stuck on the phone for 6 long hours straight is a mystery that cell phone network companies gleefully would like to know,, and then come out with new schemes to increase talk times. In his room , on the bed, in the mess, on the roof...and god knows where ,people like satya are sharing sweet nothings with their lovers.
And thanks to my keen powers of observation(OK , that was an exaggeration I am blind without my specs and in the night i cant see far away), I have noticed that his head often lolls to one side even when he is not on the phone ,and his voice takes on a slick ,sweet, low almost musical tone(a consequence of talking too much with a girl).
Mark my words in the next few years medical R&D companies would be coming out with medecines , journals , even mobile stands that can fit on your head while talking on the phone and various other paraphernelia related to cellingitis. doctors around the world would be conveying their thanks to me for opening a new path for research for them.
And some of these people dont tell me i didn't warn you ... Satya,Pritam Das, Sheikh,Chandan and Satyajeet.
So as concerned citizens please warn your fellow friends who are in the throes of this malady to read my blog ....otherwise they can choose to look like those deformed zombies( in cheap hollywood flicks) after 10 years.And moreover being an electrical engg. student myself , i cannot bear to know that mobile towers malfunctioning ,due to constant exposure to the mindless yakking of these idiots.
I can hear the applause from you .Yep you must be thinking how benevolent is this chap to discuss this pressing matter, to remind us that we are an example to our future generations , live testimony to the fact that we are no slaves of technology.....
Adios folks and next time you make a call spare a thought about me and my advice....well gotta go , i can hear my phone ringing....... :)
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
CONFESSIONS OF A FOODIE
Yep, one of my favorite subjects to talk about. Anything related to food ….you name it and I love it. I was enjoying it when I was at home .But life does change when you are in the hostel. Imagine the worst form of torture, almost akin to the ruthless torture by the Nazis. Still don’t know what I’m talking about, well it was the food in the mess. No, don’t misunderstand me, the quality of food was OK( thousands of flies couldn’t be wrong) and moreover we had non-veg for five days a week. But you could only get three pieces of it whether it be chicken or mutton. Now that was too bitter a pill to swallow. For a person like me who loves to gorge on non-veg cuisine it was an outright violation, a transgression of human rights. And the most appalling fact was that everybody had reconciled meekly to the rule.
It was left to the hands of the last dying breed of connoisseurs to argue with the thick skinned mess workers just for one extra piece …….well piece would be an overstatement . After about 5 minutes of persistent haggling you would consider yourself lucky if you could get a few scraps of meat. But on the upside you could get as much gravy as you asked for. For the carnivores like me , atleast it was bearable but for the pious Veggies , Paneer was their sole luxury. Right from mashing it down to minuscule pieces to ones as large as the iceberg that sunk the Titanic, it was a high protein diet everyday. That did cause some complaints , but when the mess workers dished out alternatives like sizzled veggies( sizzled it till it was fit for Coal India Limited.) and veg Mumtaz (the dish was as good as its name …. It was fit for the dead) nobody dared to complain again. And then there was the Monday night dinner. They don’t call it the Monday blues for nothing. It was a dinner fit for the horses. Oats and Kheer was the menu. And yes you got a sweetmeat free. I took my plate just for that sweet and left the plate on the table.
The sweets were a different story altogether . They disappeared from the plates faster than Harry Houdini. It was a jungle out there during dinner time and unless one would guard it with Z type security it would be appeasing someone’s sweet tooth.Enough of the food in the mess. I would be giving too much credit to it if I devoted more space to it. But thankfully I am alive to tell my tale for the first year. And I am told that the food in senior hostels is still worse. Well who cares about mess food when you have a plethora of goodies to eat in the Hostel Canteen.
The Hostel Canteen was the best place to spend your cash. It was the lifeline for all the South Hostellites , well stocked with all sorts of snacks , drinks and the most important of all ( the must have for all UCE seniors) Cigarettes. There was always a crowd near the snacks table and if “Mausa”(Uncle as we lovingly called him) did not keep a wary eye on all those sneaking hands , I am sure he would have discovered serious anomalies in his accounts at the end of the day. When we first entered South Hostel people were paying him for everything they consumed . Cash was flowing left, right and centre but as days passed by the cash flow dwindled and the dog eared credit book earned a place on the cash desk. Furrows started lining Mausa’s brow as his debts runned into thousands of rupees. He was doing brisk business alright , but nobody paid him cash. It really hurts when you have don’t have liquidity of your assets and moreover he had to keep the demand-supply chain intact , otherwise that would mean a loss in his business. It was a lose-lose situation for him as the days went by. But a hardcore businessman that he was , he never let his angst show and he always treated everyone with deference and friendly cheer. Only when nobody would be around would he sometimes open up about his cash strapped existence. Enough of this ramblings about the state of affairs of the canteen , lets fast forward to summer……..which is another blog…….mates
It was left to the hands of the last dying breed of connoisseurs to argue with the thick skinned mess workers just for one extra piece …….well piece would be an overstatement . After about 5 minutes of persistent haggling you would consider yourself lucky if you could get a few scraps of meat. But on the upside you could get as much gravy as you asked for. For the carnivores like me , atleast it was bearable but for the pious Veggies , Paneer was their sole luxury. Right from mashing it down to minuscule pieces to ones as large as the iceberg that sunk the Titanic, it was a high protein diet everyday. That did cause some complaints , but when the mess workers dished out alternatives like sizzled veggies( sizzled it till it was fit for Coal India Limited.) and veg Mumtaz (the dish was as good as its name …. It was fit for the dead) nobody dared to complain again. And then there was the Monday night dinner. They don’t call it the Monday blues for nothing. It was a dinner fit for the horses. Oats and Kheer was the menu. And yes you got a sweetmeat free. I took my plate just for that sweet and left the plate on the table.
The sweets were a different story altogether . They disappeared from the plates faster than Harry Houdini. It was a jungle out there during dinner time and unless one would guard it with Z type security it would be appeasing someone’s sweet tooth.Enough of the food in the mess. I would be giving too much credit to it if I devoted more space to it. But thankfully I am alive to tell my tale for the first year. And I am told that the food in senior hostels is still worse. Well who cares about mess food when you have a plethora of goodies to eat in the Hostel Canteen.
The Hostel Canteen was the best place to spend your cash. It was the lifeline for all the South Hostellites , well stocked with all sorts of snacks , drinks and the most important of all ( the must have for all UCE seniors) Cigarettes. There was always a crowd near the snacks table and if “Mausa”(Uncle as we lovingly called him) did not keep a wary eye on all those sneaking hands , I am sure he would have discovered serious anomalies in his accounts at the end of the day. When we first entered South Hostel people were paying him for everything they consumed . Cash was flowing left, right and centre but as days passed by the cash flow dwindled and the dog eared credit book earned a place on the cash desk. Furrows started lining Mausa’s brow as his debts runned into thousands of rupees. He was doing brisk business alright , but nobody paid him cash. It really hurts when you have don’t have liquidity of your assets and moreover he had to keep the demand-supply chain intact , otherwise that would mean a loss in his business. It was a lose-lose situation for him as the days went by. But a hardcore businessman that he was , he never let his angst show and he always treated everyone with deference and friendly cheer. Only when nobody would be around would he sometimes open up about his cash strapped existence. Enough of this ramblings about the state of affairs of the canteen , lets fast forward to summer……..which is another blog…….mates
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