My first ray of Sunlight...

Teri ankhon se aansu kabhi na bahe..
Tere hathon mein hamara hath hamesha rahe..
Tere hothon se mamu pehle nikle.. ( ya m selfish there.. :D.. )
Tujhe godi mein behlate rahein..

Ahanaaa..

pyar karna.. mumma se seekhna..
baton ki gehrai samajhna..
sachai, meri bhanji, papa se seekhna..
paro pe khade jaldi hona..
zindagi mein jo chahe karna..
baton mein kisi aur ki kabhi mat aana..

Ahanaaa..

Painting aur drawing abhi se shuru karna…
Literature ki ahemiyat tum ye zarur janna..
Par mann ki agar baat bataun, piano zarur seekhna..
Dil ki khwahish hai ye duniya ko chawka dena..

Ahanaa….


Papa, mumma se kabhi nahi jhagarna..
Jo Pyar sabse zada tumse hi karte haina..

Ahanaaaa…..


pyar karna.. mumma se seekhna..
baton ki gehrai samajhna..
sachai, meri bhanji, papa se seekhna..
paro pe khade jaldi hona..
zindagi mein jo chahe karna..
baton mein kisi aur ki kabhi mat aana..

Ahanaa...

Drill Dilemma!! from the annals of IMA times...

Drill seems to be the most trying thing in the academy. The biggest torture in doing drill everyday for the pop practice is not the sweat, the heat, the incessant 'kadam badal' or 'changing march', the continuous ‘swing back’ or ‘height de’ (not that these are not tortures themselves, they definitely surely are) but the biggest one is how the heck do you manage to keep your shirts clean. And then they want us to wear an impeccable uniform every damn day.

What happens, as many of you might not be aware, specially my friends from the software industry who sit in their air conditioned office day in day out, who do not shred one drop of pasina, is that after 2-3 hours of continuous drill, all the pores of your body are opened because some liquid wants to flow out. If you happen to taste it, just like we get a chance of doing it daily, I am sure you wouldn’t like it.

Now because of this liquid flowing out, in a short while, your body perceives that if this continues it might just dehydrate, and therefore it makes you feel thirsty. Obviously you cannot replenish the liquid loss from your body by just licking the same off from your own body, as that is not humanly possible. However, come to think of it, it is humanly possible to lick it off someone else’s body, probably the one standing just in front of you who is also excreting as much liquid as you. But that would be a grotesque way of quenching your thirst. Eeyuk..

Ok, forget that. This thirst makes you feel that you’ll die any moment. And what adds to this dying moment is the rashes developed both in your under arms and your private parts invariably through the never ending swinging of your arms and legs respectively. The 50% of the water along with much of the salt in your body that excretes out in the form of S.W.E.A.T, does not act as a lubricant. Trust me. In fact, it acts as a catalyst in the development of these rashes.

Now the water which forms a vital part of the sweat evaporates, but what about the salt? I’ll tell you. The salt, ladies and gentlemen, penetrates through the vest, and sticks tightly to the shirt and makes the Olive Green, Olive Green and White. Nonetheless, the white patches on the OG shirt makes wonderful modern art, the beauty of which lies in the unpredictability of its pattern. Every fucking day, the patches are of different shape, and at different unimaginable locations. There is absolutely no regularity at all.

So, that’s how your shirt gets screwed every day. And you have only three pairs of them. And since the washer man comes only twice in a week, and there are 7 days in the same, you are smart enough to calculate that you gotta wash them yourself in between. And that is what I don’t like putting my time and energy in. Specially at a place where they are trying to exhaust my energy everyday.

LET ME CONSERVE IT A LITTLE FOLKS..

I MEAN, COME ON!!! HOW THE DAMNED HELL DOES IT MATTER WHETHER THE OG I WEAR TO DRILL PRACTICE, (I EMPHASIZE, DRILL “PRACTICE”) HAS WHITE PATCHES OR NOT??

INSTEAD OF PUNISHING SUCH A PERSON, SHOULDN’T YOU AWARD HIM? CUZ HE HAS SWEATED THE MOST??

Wait.. I just gave myself an idea there..

THE MAX WHITE IN A WEEK AWARD GOES TO……. GC Ankur Srivastava!! (With a huge round of applause from the entire academy)

Yeah, I have a weird way of imagining things.. :D..

But you tell me, wouldn’t that be both fun and fair?

Billu the Barber!!

Once upon a time, there were two mice, Billu and Pinki. One day, Billu found a huge piece of cheese. He wanted to have it all, and he would have, but as he was trying to impress Pinki, he decided to share it with her by dividing it into two halves.

After scratching his head for a long time, he finally found a way to divide it exactly into 2 pieces. He decided that he would break the cheese arbitrarily and then compare. Whichever side looked bigger, he would nib at it a little till both looked exactly the same.

With enthusiasm, he started his brilliant method. He broke the cheese. First one looked bigger. He ate it a little. Now the other one looked bigger. He ate the other one a little. Dammit, the first one looked bigger again.

He kept on biting the pieces in an attempt to make them equal. In sheer frustration, he didn’t realize that he was eating all of it. He did so, only when he had consumed everything.

He felt dejected. His sole chance to impress Pinki had gone down the drain. He walked on the road like a desolate mouse, didn’t notice a truck coming by, came under it and got squashed to a cheesy liquid form.

Billu gave up his life in the name of love. God was proud of him, and decided to send him in the world again. This time though, as a human named Mr Nathulal, who happens to be my barber. But I never realized it. And neither would have you.

You realize it only when he gets the sole chance to impress you by cutting your hair. Billu the barber repeats his brilliant method of making both sides of your hair equal, by cutting your hair arbitrarily and then comparing.

You realize it only when he finds the other side having longer hair, ALWAYS, and feels frustrated again.

And you realize it only when in a sincere attempt to make them equal, he finishes off all of it and finally shows you the mirror.

Sidharth and Nikita

Crushes. Siddharth and Nikita. Twelth standard.

Chemistry teacher Mrs Taneja was saying something. She stopped midway and started writing equations on the board. But Siddharth couldn’t register her words today. He was a good student. Amongst the toppers. And one of Mrs Taneja’s favorite.
He thought about the reason why he was feeling so dejected today. He knew the answer. Nikki had bunked the school today. He kept glancing towards her empty seat. Just two rows ahead of his.

Siddharth liked her a lot. For him, Nikki was a fun loving, vivacious girl, who did not worry a lot about exams, boards, entrance tests, who was damn pretty and who wore a superb dimple every time she used to smile. And she used to smile a lot.

He used to write a diary. And in that diary, he would write every day about her. Special long entries were made the days he would have conversations with her. Admiring every movement of her eyes, noticing every expression of her cute face, everything he used to pen down.

Was it love? Or just another infatuation, just another crush. There were times when he felt strongly that it was indeed love, but there were other times as well, more often than not; that he thought that it was just a crush. A very powerful one, though.

He felt guilty. He had to concentrate on his studies, do very well in the boards, as well as the entrance exams of various professional institutes. There was a lot of competition, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to clear any of them if he gets messed up with distractions. Nikki was a distraction. He had to get her out of his head. But then he would glance at her, in the class, and forget.

He decided that this couldn’t work any longer. He knew that he couldn’t remove Nikki out of his world. As she was there, right there in front of his eyes every day. There must be a solution. One day, he found it. He decided that he would fool his heart. Nikki was not to be a distraction for him. He made a pact, that if he wants to get Nikki in his life, he would have to study hard, and clear his exams. To get her, he would have to lose his sleep, burn the midnight oil, and read.

This solution soon started failing. Because there was this basic flaw. His mind and his heart were not disconnected. Out of desperation, without realizing, slowly, he made himself believe to very great extent, that he could only get Nikki if he studies hard. This belief soon converted into a conviction. A promise made by some higher authority.

He started decreasing the small conversations he used to have with her, and started distancing from her. He observed her only when she was occupied with something, but dreamed about her every night. As he studied harder and harder, he felt he was getting close. She became his motivation. His power, his pleasure, and his pain. But only in his thoughts.

But today, when she was not there in the class, he was feeling jittery. He tried concentrating in the subject but just couldn’t.

Has it backfired? Now he couldn’t concentrate without her distant presence. Is she alright? He hoped nothing had happened to her. She never used to bunk school.

----------------------------------------xx-------------------------------------------

Nikita’s mom was serving her a medicine, after a good breakfast. When she was not looking, Nikita slid the tablet in the pocket of her shirt and drank the water. She had pretended to be sick. She was disturbed, but not physically, and wanted a break from the school.

Day before, she had eaten a lot of onions with her dinner. She knew it would make her vomit, and she purposefully did so, in the presence of her father. His father naturally thought she was ill, and instructed her mother to take care of her tomorrow. She was not to go to school.

Nikita had done the same act, around a year back, when she was confident that she would fail the math half yearly exam which was to be held the next day. She had missed the exam, with almost no repercussions. It was certainly better than to have failed in the subject. The reason behind her contrived plot. But today the reason was different. She needed to think things over. She needed some peace of mind. Ashish had asked her out yesterday.

Nikita knew that she was good looking. Counted amongst the cutest in the class. She also knew that there were quite a number of boys who were crazy about her. Many of them had even approached her; she had ignored all of them. Refused politely but firmly. As none of them were even close to the kind of guy she wanted in her life. She could puke till death before going out with some of them. Ashish was different. He was a good friend. But she didn’t like him that way also.

It wasn’t that she was very high headed or there weren’t any guys who were smart. There were 2-3 extremely cute guys, but they were the centre of attention of all girls. Every girl of her class was trying to woo them in all manners. Some of which were even despicable. Like exposing skin, seducing in ways she thought were disgraceful. And the bad part was that the cute guys fell for all of it. They would go out with the girl wearing the shortest skirt. In this psychological way, they almost exhorted all girls to wear short skirts. The girl not wearing one now, was considered a behnji.

Albeit, there was one guy she thought was different from others. He was not as dashing as the guys mentioned above, but certainly cute in his special way, and was definitely smart. He had a terrific persona about him. He kept quiet most of the time, was very intelligent, and the envy of most of the wanna-be’s. His name was Siddharth.

Nikita had seen Siddharth initially glancing towards her from time to time. She had grown used to guys staring at her, passing comments and ‘singing filthy songs in the bus at her’ things, but ofcourse she had drawn a line. Anyone crossing it was in for some big trouble. A new guy in the class glancing stealthily was just normal.

Then one day she saw him speak in the class. Siddharth was giving a presentation on a topic in chemistry. Nikita got her first chance to observe him closely, as he was always 2 rows behind, and she found he had a tremendous personality. The way he spoke, his accent, his voice was so good. It had a mysterious kind of a feeling about it. During the lecture, he was focused towards getting the subject across, and also didn’t let anyone get bored as he kept cracking trivial jokes in between. They were not very funny, but the way he delivered them was. Last but not the least; he had beautiful, large, and innocent eyes.

She fell for him. And in about a month’s time, was heads over heals about him. She knew siddharth was a bit reserved and a conventional person. She liked that part about him. But she couldn’t just ask him out because of the same reason, or become very bold in front of him. He wouldn’t like that. And she wanted him to like her intellectually too. She would study math, the subject she hated the most, to just strike up an intelligent conversation with him. While studying, she would give up. Then she would look at the only pic she had of him, and start off again.

She still remembered the day clearly when Siddharth had asked her the question. ‘Can I call you Nikki?’. She had felt her heart skipping a beat, had blushed and gone red, had answered ‘yes’, and had smiled. She was the happiest girl in the world that day. She knew in her heart that he also had a crush on her. But her mind said otherwise sometimes. Nevertheless, she had thought of giving hints. And then she would wait. Wait for him to propose.

But for the last few days, she thought he had started ignoring her. He stopped responding to the usual hints she gave to have a conversation. He would walk past by without looking at her. She was perturbed first, and later angry. Her feelings sometimes also moved towards hatred. What did he think of himself? Her ego was hurt, and she wanted to dignify herself. She wanted to teach him a lesson.

She decided to say a yes to Ashish.