Ink Stained

           I've come up to the third year of graduation and consider myself a grown up man. But this status was booked up in the registers long back ago in the July of 2010 when we were all promoted to the topmost level of the ladder we'd been building for past fifteen years of schooling. We were all in the senior most class. But as Uncle Ben said, "With great power comes great responsibility"; so did come big course, big subjects, bigger equations, bigger sums, bigger diagrams and along came bigger chiding, bigger beatings on making small mistakes. One such giver of big to small was our chemistry teacher, Mrs. Dixit.            What a scary figure she was. A Humongous Deathtrap, wrapped in an Indian clean saree, which was just enough to cover her big belly. Her arms, sandwiched between a set of perfect biceps and triceps built over the years exercising on students' backs. Her voice had that Hitler quality of making one weep ...

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...

                  How often it happens when you're travelling in a bus and a few people, at a far distance, who seem to have no other work than talking irrelevant stuff(for them at least with a very little knowledge) of nation and political scenario, start off a story. A story of their past, of they being caught in a bus hustle, of being caught without a ticket and how they made an escape, of how rude the conductor was, or of how mad the driver was, or how they struggled for a seat and that turned out to be a "reserved for ladies one"(my favorite). Very often. This sometimes is fascinating and amusing. Most of the times people talking to each other hardly know the fellow being, but this is India. We all know each other. what if buses are most prone to thievery, what if  most of the times we don't even find a place to place our feet, we are the people who live.                   And why only ...