Ink Stained

     When we first met in the spring of 2011, we hardly knew what each others background was,  or motives were, or even names for that matter. Then,  I don't know how, we struck off so well,  and today, our names are more often called together. This post is dedicated to my best friend and my brother for all intents and purposes, Shivanshu, who turned 21 in reality today and 20 on papers.     Shivanshu is just like an elder brother to me. Whenever I was confused, infuriated, mad, sad, sick, he was there. All the fun exploring of Delhi I've done, I've had this bus-pass-buddy with me all along. Or chronicles are so vast and diverse and interesting that if one goes in to write a book on it, it would definitely sell better than "the monk who sold his ferrari". I mean the instances were so insane that only he, or I could've only beared them. I remember this instance, just four days before our exams, we stood on the bus stand in front of the college and a bus came

Once there was a Veeru, and her freind Jai, they were  both best freinds,night and day, both studied,studied forever, we never saw any of them gay. Both came to school together, sat and ate together, went back home together, from our common alma mater. Veeru liked talking to people, Jai always kept introvert, Veeru always adviced Jai, to talk and now convert. Even in exams often,they would sit beside, we often cried jolly, "Rab ne kya banai hai jodi" This was the scene wen all was right, till that girlish man came upright, this was the entry of a villain, we called him "Chikna Gabbar" This man looked as smooth, as Sir Lancelot's helmet plume, his face had no strand of hair, and was in colour much fair. And he had a huge bulging tummy, seemed as overloved by his mummy, this man liked our Veeru, and like turned,by the end, loving Veeru. One sudden day, stealing from everyones fray, Gabbar proposed our veeru, and she t

        The hilarious yesterday was so much influential that it left traces of giggles and smiles on the today too and along with those giggles, this post. The morning article in Delhi Times yesterday about the mocking of the custom of "karva-chauth" was quiet and mocking one in itself, accompanied by examples throughout the day. Girls and guys, fasting to show their love to their spouses is the sickest step one could take in love I guess(or there could be others too, I really don't know).          My friend who stays in a hostel in Gaziabad, told me the scene which was created in her hostel in the evening, which made me laugh to my intestines out. Out of 98 girls in the entire hostel, 70 mad women were fasting. And how they broke off their fasts you ask, the technology slams the answer to your face, video chat. I mean how foolish could one really become.          I was just about to close my wide laughing mouth and get back to studies(well my exams are just few inche

      Today, Mommy added a new ingredient to my chowmein. In our home, or in fact in most of the Indian homes, we always try and keep things alive by adding new flavors to them. We crush and mould the original recipe in such a way the every time we introduce them to our tongues, they(our tongues) find them strangers. But this ingredient was a bunch of strangers in itself.       She added Bari to my noodles. For people who don't know what Bari is, it is an indigineosly made ball of typical Indian spices, dried and hardened. It is usually crushed and made into a dish along with potatoes. But, my mother is my mother. In every mouthful of delicious noodles, smeared in Indian and Chinese spices, bitter and very bitter, I got pieces of long, elaichi, kali mirch, and don't know what(all ingredients of a Bari). Eating it was very much like diffusing a bomb. You don't know what next would come in between your jaws and spoil the entire mouthful. But what made me write a blog post on

       Have you ever wondered what state of mind do the people deeply involved in a war are before and after? Though we hardly have wars now, are we away from it? Are we just at peace because we were born in a pleasant decade? When we see it through their eyes, we don't conclude the same.         You don't have much to look around after a battle. Or I should frame it this way, there are not many things you like to see after a battle. Winning or losing are just consolations for what one has lost. It doesn't matter much when you look at the mayhem the battle left behind. Rottening body parts scattered here and there, the mud, which has attained a wet red form, is there all around your shoes, your body, your armour; the cries of men, some of joy, all of agony. The only water you get to clean yourself or to drink has got blood mixed in it.         Just before the battle, the soldiers look at the flag and salute it from the heart, as it be the last. They see their brothers, ea

    I often play this game with my mates, on evening walks, or on drinks, or as a filler on card nights.  We one by one tell the other players that one thing which we didn't find in our origins and found it in Delhi. This could be anything. Anything material, spiritual, emotional or any-nal... We get a lot more of the things we don't know about and even the sentiments those things have attached to the players. I being a big foodie, always start with the very famous and tasty chola-kulcha. Though this game is a light one, this very often helps people loosen their heavy hearts, a bit atleast. This blogpost just compiles my inferences on the kinds of people there are. Though not all kinds, but a few. And since I play this only with people I know more than enough, this is best to my knowledge.       The examples I've got till date are so diverse that I think there couldn't have been more languages in India. There are people who give Pind Baluchi, Parathe wali gali, chole k