A thought for food, a restaurant for me!

A few days ago I was studying some electronic devices and happened to chance upon the word MOSFET. Now MOSFET, electronically speaking, is a metal oxide semiconductor field effect transistor (a heavy expansion, right?) and happens to be the most loathsome (yet useful) electronic component that you shall ever come across. This is not what I want to share though (sorry!). The device is of little use to me (presently). It was the acronym that caught my attention. To me (weirdly though) it seemed like the name of a chocolate wafer! Now, let us not jump to conclusions just yet. I am (as a few people suggest) the most sane and sensible of people with a practical mind. You might (or rather definitely) disagree with me here, but hey I do not control the subconscious, especially when the thing in question is FOOD!

My mother says that I don’t eat to live but live to eat! And I am in complete agreement with this observation. The foodie in me cannot resist the thought of his beloved once in a while and it is solely due to this reason that I already have a retirement plan (I’m still a first year undergraduate yes!). I shall open a restaurant (after a world food tour!!)

Yes my very own restaurant!! …..Chez _______ (I am still choosing the name, do suggest some).

In this context I should mention my conversation with N. on the prospect of having my own restaurant. While I was trying to convince N. that MOSFET sounds more like a chocolate wafer than some insensible scientific jargon, I had a brainwave. I decided to fuse the ideas of the engineer in me with those of the foodie and this is what this match churned out:

Aye! This is what the menu of an electrical engineer's restaurant would look like (certainly not a disaster!). It is a long way from what it will be 40 odd years from now, but this definitely is a start. (the excitement gets to you, doesn't it?). 

So, in the future if you need a really 'electrically' delicious meal, drop by and I can guarantee that you shall leave 'charged' and content! 

And to the foodie in you I say  Bon Appetit! 

Ode to Nainital

A crescent shaped jewel, precious!

with a jealous guard -seven strong 

Envious as smooth caresses , little boats

sail on thy mirrored form

Graceful , lead by thee in this serenity

Wearing caps of snow or bare heads glistening

I hand nature a new identity, of magic

unspoken; the allure of thy ring

Glitter as diamonds on a lady,beautiful

A calmness spreads to hold me still

All actions cease, I enter a world;

A life, I live divine, in these seven hills

The Unnamed Poem

This was written some time back. After constant motivation, I decided to give other poetic genres a try. This is again another experiment in poetry. I hope it is satisfactory for the audience. However, I shall beg mercy for not being able to name this venture.Hope it is good.

Long as the shadows grow,

A ragged figure crouches down

Oft I have seen him bend and break

A pile of papers for a bed, dirt his crown.

A smile so infectious, he waves,

Yet the kid scoots, searching eyes hidden away.

Disgusted, seems the baker across,

Locking the wares, a closure to his day.

The banker invades the old man’s land,

Treads the insignificant with calm and ease.

The smile undying, still ; Pass as you will,

He never complains, but joyfully shares a piece.

Secrets spill out , he pulls out a wrapper

A forager’s victory , his eyes shine bright

Contentment in each morsel, the counted few

I see ,as I draw my curtains close for the night.

To be a 'Bookworm'

It has been some time since I actually heard the term 'bookworm'.
As I ate through the pages of Jeffery Archer's Only Time Will Tell last night, the memories of my boarding school years resurfaced in my mind.I was reminded of the hours that I had spent in the library, the classroom and the dormitory reading.

A portion of my bookshelf! (presently)

                                             
I was introduced to the wonderful world of books in Grade 4. The first library lesson is still clear in my mid (for completely different reasons though). It was Enid Blyton's works that got me started. I was hooked to the Mystery series and later the Famous Five. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes followed. The great detective with his remarkable perception and deduction never failed to excite me.
Harry Potter - the most popular character of my generation was as famous in my school from the very start. I had heard the seniors discuss the books and some of my classmates had even read the first two parts of the series. It so happened that I did not have anything to read one day and was in search for some fodder to feed my brain. This was when somebody lent me Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and that was the day that my magical journey began. Now attending a school that is quite similar to Hogwarts with its more than a 140 year old history, houses , boarding and other stuff can play with your mind a lot and it was more than often that I ended up comparing Harry's world to mine.
As time passed I was attracted to the more literary of writings with the popular classics occupying most of my time in my first year in the senior wing (Dixon Wing). I read Shakespeare and was not impressed or influenced enough to consider him to stand at the very top of the literary pyramid.Charles Dickens was in my opinion for some years the best. I loved The Christmas Carol, but I hated and still do hate Great Expectations by him.
In Grade 7 we had a lesson in our textbook titled 'Uncle Podger Hangs a Picture'  by Jerome K. Jerome. It is a hilarious story of a man's trying efforts to hang a picture on the wall and how the entire family in due course comes to be involved in this endeavor. During the book fair that year I purchased the text from which the story had been taken and to this day  Three Men in a Boat remains my favorite book. I have read it countless times and know the plot by heart and yet every time I read it, the words never fail to make me laugh.
With time 27/RH became more visible on the borrow receipt pasted on the back of the book in the library at school. By the time I reached Grade 8 most of the books sitting on the shelves of the books meant for juniors were familiar to me. While a person could borrow a book for fourteen days from the library, I borrowed 14 books in 14 days! The librarian was left clueless as to how I manage to complete a book each day and when he confronted me wanting to know whether I actually read the words or just borrowed for fun I simply said " I read them Sir." but he was never convinced I guess.There were days when I used to reach the library as soon as I had changed after lunch and would sit till the library was shut at 5 in the evening. I completed the Tintin series, Asterix and Obelix and each Phantom comicbook that the library possessed.I had found a passion that was only rivaled by my love for Indian classical music and most of my time was spent shuttling between these two.
During visits, I made a monthly pilgrimage to Narains, a bookstore in town and would often spend close to an hour selecting a book of my choice. I loved to browse through the immense variety of writings that were on display.Be it fiction, classics, non fiction,cookery books , books on photography, animals , I was never bored as I pulled out books at random and scanned their contents often disturbing entire piles of books! I usually bought a book or two each time. I remember buying Anne Frank's A Diary of a Young Girl from the shop. This was one book that pushed me in the direction of biographies and to date I have read life accounts of people like Gandhi, Hitler, Napoleon, Castro and Ben Franklin.
It was compulsory to attend college matches and cheer for the team at our school. Yet, many a times I bunked these matches and spent these hours in the library or any other place where I could be alone with a book.Sadly, these times were rare and the prefects found me out almost every time and I was sent to the stadium steps.
Those five years (from Grade4 up to Grade 8) were my 'bookworm years' as I devoured book after book, completed the series, the sagas, the trilogies etc. I had wandered into this unknown with little of what to expect and now when I recall it I can definitely say that this was what enriched my thought, my writing and my speech. Today, when I pick up a novel every month or so, I can still picture myself seated at the library deeply immersed in the story immune to the worldly happenings as I myself lived in another realm.

Lift yourself above the world, open its folds and enter a realm beyond your imagination. Its significance a mere speck in your vast understanding but beware, as it speaks so shall form your words, as it works, so shall your heart be...for it is what you shall live as under its wing...... this , to the bookworm I say!

Each time it feels like new!

If someone has gone through the posts that precede this (I guess you have, they are only a handful) you must have come across the one where I have commented on my poetry skills in every manner possible (in The Poet that Wasn't) .Well, after a long break (this should not invite comments) I have written a small piece. This time trying a completely different genre, so please be soft on the critique.

On the dedication,well, its for you to figure out! (the easiest part of the poem!!!)

In a moment I’m caught

Between words and pictures, lost

A year to this day, each day lived

Not bored or rhythmic

For, each time it feels like new

Each call, every letter from you

I long for that voice

Yet that fortnight seems clear

The first , I recollect, the last year  

For, each time it feels like new

And meetings unplanned, a rush before

Seeking a glimpse, a smile too

A year now, the truth I speak

Each time it seems like heaven

And, each time it feels like new 

Three flutes, loads of air and a beginner!

Seems a pretty straightforward title doesn't it? The story of the efforts of a normal guy on a flute and the interesting parts in between ...blah blah blah . The title's quite revealing right? In fact, why read further? So what (you might say) I had the same experience when I was trying to learn the piano or the bagpipes or the violin (piano is the most common one), In fact, mine was better , much better - an incident that is fit to get 10 million views on youtube had I the sense to press the record button on the camcorder that I had so foolishly placed on the table! It was hilarious (you insist) and it went like this ....... After you have narrated the whole incident to me  twice (Yes sir!! you repeated that chicken soup part and even enacted it the second time!) .You deny. I mime your act.You look subdued (I am a horrible mime!!) and say that it is time that I divulge my tale and not waste any more of your time.(##@%$^& I mutter!!) . Well, here it is then.......
I am still not certain as to why I had decided that I would learn how to play the flute.I have always (to the best of my knowledge) been a santoor player. I was introduced to the santoor nine years back and have since then played the same. It is not that I am bored . I still love the sound of the wood striking the string. Here is a picture of a santoor for those who are still trying to figure out what it actually is (see I knew it!)

So, back to where we were now....my logical insights a.k.a the inner eye tells me that the reason I have decided to undertake the task of learning the flute is based on my personal discomfort at the failure of never having been able to play any wind or reed instrument. I feel its time that this problem was handled in a proper manner.
I have duly shared my desire (note it wasn't and still is not a 'burning' desire) with friends, parents , casual acquaintances and every second passer-by. Some of them have tried to talk me out of it (the people who know me better) and this has strengthened my resolve (I say no to their every yes and yes to well, all NOs) , some even supported me. One of my friends has even gifted me a flute that is not of conventional origin (read  un-Indian).

The next logical step for me would be to find a suitable tutor. I have successfully completed the 'find' and have failed on the 'tutor' part. Whenever I think of this, I picture my mother saying "गुरु बिन ज्ञान नहीं ...." (  English : No knowledge without a teacher)to which I have always retaliated with the story of Eklavya (One of the most inspiring tales in Indian culture!) and so following the footsteps of Eklavya have declared Youtube my tutor ( technologically advanced... I know!!) . I would be doing injustice if I do not mention the contribution of my uncle here , for, if someday , some scribe decides to pen my life and make millions out of doing so, it would only be just if people remembered my Uncle and said that "He was the one who stoked the fire..." It was my Uncle who taught me the first basic steps to hold the flute (stress on basic) and the fact that we live far apart and meet once in a year means that I'll learn the ascension and descent of notes next June !! My patience forbids me to wait so long and hence here I am , an Eklavya in my own right.

Confident that I could hold a flute right and blow I went and purchased a flute. My first efforts at getting it to 'blow' music were horrible and still remain just passable. I ran out of breath by the time I came down three notes on the scale and had to wait for a at least 10-seconds before I could start again. I went  sa... ni... dha.. breath over!! (  I said it aloud! ). My mom teases me with the fact that since I cannot even whistle ( Yes I cannot ...so what?) it will be next to impossible to get that controlled flow of breath for the flute. (I shall even learn how to whistle now). Yet, I have persisted with my efforts. Twice , I have gone up and down the  sargam  in the past thirteen days. I mostly give up on the fifth note now (five is better than three) .I run out of breath easily.It is tough. I blow, and blow really hard ,but all I hear is air swishing through the hollow tube.I adjust and re-adjust , focus and re-focus and yet fail to produce a good sound for half and hour and when I finally get the orientation right, I am out of breath again!!

The Thai flute (the unconventional one) looks easier but is still a bigger mystery to me. 

I had yet to conquer these two when my Aunt (hearing of my so-called 'zealous' efforts)gifted me the Indonesian variant ( A south-east Asian flute collection...Yippee!!) . Now I have three. Three different instruments to learn - three different worlds to conquer.Even Eklavya couldn't have managed archery , sword-fighting and spear-throwing all at once! 

Look at them three , mocking me together.Knowing that I stand helpless now and that they shall be the toughest instruments I have faced so far.

I on my part shall continue to strive to try and master these three little warriors of the music world.I promise them that no matter if I fall short of breath , or come to my wits' end trying to grasp the technique soon I shall conquer and they shall submit! "Corruetis, et dominabitur"

Between languages

As soon as I entered this world (they say ) they realised that I was going to be one of the shy kind - the soft spoken introvert . Many still believe that I am and would swear by the most occult of things that they believe that I will always remain so. This is not the case with the few who know me well and can essentially classify me as a 'chatterbox' . I am a good listener , I agree but am an even better speaker (quantitatively for sure! ) . I can go on and on for hours given the freedom and the attention which people usually give me for the first fifteen minutes .( they have learned over time :P )
Now this longing to speak has always been matched by my interest to learn new languages and though  I have now lived for 19-odd years I can only manage English (As you might notice) and Hindi (my mother still doubts this) properly . Mind you , I certainly have put in the efforts ( worth questioning )  and yet have not even been remotely successful.

We were introduced to ' sanskrit' the ' mother of all languages' (as it is known) in grade 5. Try as hard as I did , I could never grasp the language. Our teacher always stressed on perfecting our handwriting and so grammar always took a backseat during sanskrit lessons .The efforts continued for the next three years with small yet keen efforts on both the part of the teacher and me but it was all in vain . The only thing I remember from my sanskrit lessons at school is that च the sanskrit equivalent for 'and' comes at the end of the sentence . What logic compels it to do so is still a big mystery to me . :/

I ceased all efforts for a few years and indulged in my course more than anything else for the next four years. After a hectic and nervous two months last year , that included biggies like IITJEE and AIEEE, life suddenly became very slow . The wait for the results and allotment of colleges was long and boring. As life dragged along I found myself intrigued by the wonders of the language of  the French. Efforts ensued thereafter. I looked up friends and acquaintances who had ever been in touch with the language. Searched for resources online.Got an entire 250-page book printed by my father so that I could use it to learn French. Yet again all of this was fruitless as my interest wore off as quickly as it had grown and I found myself tucking the 250-page print out behind a lot of books in my shelf. So much for learning French!!

An year passed and I sat for JEE and AIEEE again after giving up my entire second semester for competition preparation. The cycle clicked in and it was time to be bored (or rather patient) for the results. So , I tried my luck once again. This time with one of the most colourful languages of the European mainland - Spanish. As luck would have it , my initial efforts were bad. I could not find a single suitable (read as free) podcast to tutor myself. The only free podcast I found was taught me how to compliment a woman! (I am yet to try that...let me find a spanish girl first) . The subsequent efforts were very bad and at present I have progressed no further. But this time it is bound to be better for I have started using the spanish learning series on youtube .I just hope that I can learn this language.

Well, that is it. My language scorecard reads as such :

Wonder how this will look on my CV??

Of Paranthas and Pepsi!

Recently , I had a talk with one of my seniors who  had just been introduced to the wonder-combo = paranthas+pepsi! The way he talked about it got those drool organs all worked up (and this should sound strange because that is the next best substiute to edible stuff in college and I am presently enjoying the comforts of home sweet home!!) .
My love for food can only be rivaled by my love for sleep (which happens above all else to be my first love) .So, you can pretty much imagine the torture I was subject to when I had to actually face the fact that I would have to eat in the hostel mess a.k.a 'Eat and Die Outlet' . The first few days were normal.I endured the food and the food endured me.It was all I could do to look at the piles of rice and daal with miserable eyes and if you had looked closely you would have observed the curses that slowly formed in my mouth and the spiteful look that plastered itself over my face.It was trying!
 Our first break from mess food came on the day of our Freshers' Party (Well , that is what the name said.It looked like...ummm....forget it!! ) .With official restrictions on us , we sneaked out and had our first brush with magnificence .The sight of the unkempt , filthy  by-the-sewage canal ( Not Karnal as some presume it to be , but that is another story) 'khokhas' was a treat to the eyes. My head was filled with dreams of the times I would spend there just eating.....and eating...and eating).The smell is not much to talk about (yeah...seriously) . But the sight of cooked chicken dishes , butter naans straight out of the tandoor and all the variety that they had to offer took some time getting used to .It was the first 'utterly delicious' meal we had in our college .
We stuck to these normal dishes for sometime and enjoyed them while we could though our wallets had certainly grown slimmer now. Then, magic happened . We were introduced to the pride of the khokhas.....the king of all dishes... the STUFFED PARANTHA!!
Even though I would be doing severe injustice if I compare it to the other extravagant dishes, yet, it was the only thing that the khokhas offered that was soft on the pocket. It was our ' happy meal' .Our escape to the land of bliss and satisfaction. It was the dish of the people.Had it not been for the stuffed paranthas , students at my college would have suffered an economic crises worse than the 2009 meltdown!
So , this is how it was. We shifted to paranthas.A regular bite daily was almost certainly on the cards. I on my part , always asked for four stuffed paranthas (large diet.... i know! ) with four sticks of butter and it remained this way throughout the first semester.Whether you saw us at the khokha or paying for the food delivered to our hostels (Yes !! the khokhas at NIT Kurukshetra provide a complete hostel delivery service which happens to run round the clock 24x7 ..... can any multi-national food chain beat that??) you could be dead sure that it was paranthas.
 So much for the paranthas (mind you I can go on and on and on about them) .I HATE carbonated drinks.That is the reason you'll rarely see me with that stuff.It is on rare occasions that I actually give in to these abominable concoctions."Then , the pepsi? " you may wonder or even dare to ask.Well , it so happened that I had usually avoided the "pepsi/mountain dew" extravaganza for the entire time that I had indulged in the paranthas but one day I happened to have the urge to take a sip from the bottle that was being passed around and then I succumbed. I had hit ecstasy! The combination was too good for words . I fell for it head over heels. It was the best experience in my foodie journey so far.From that day onwards I (as I remember) was the first to order pepsi with paranthas and to this day it remains the best dish that the college (or rather ..the khokhas) have offered me so far.
So , if you happen to visit the NIT khokhas anytime , you know what you'll ask for first and as you enter the world of boundless joy you'll definitely hear me say .Bon Appétit !

Small Realizations That Will Change My Life!

I made mistakes , a lot of them this past week . No,it wasn't a question of calculus nor was it a problem on thermodynamics.I suffered and hurt a lot of people in this way. But far from falling apart I have finally come to realize what actually is important for me. You might say that .... "Oh cmon! I read that in inspirational stories long ago " or " Dude! that is the philosophy of life , everyone knows it. It is supposed to be obvious" Yeah I agree; but having experienced what I have I realize the true potential of each and every word that I mention below

You define your own success .

Failing to succeed someplace doesn't mean that you are a failure.

Success is what satisfies you truly.

Rethink your priorities before jumping in the rat-race.

The final and the most important one is each and every realization written above holds a 'you' - which is the most important thing . You may lose confidence in everything and everyone around you but never make the mistake of losing confidence in yourself!


These words are no longer mere words of wisdom as far as I am concerned and well for all those who read inspirational stories and motivational stuff I've cut down  some work for you - skip the story here is your moral . Go learn it!

The 'Fatigue' Story

You might dread a spider , the pink slip , your exam results but I guess you must have never experienced the fear of hearing these four words - "Report to me tonight". Not impressed? "Not quite the usual run of bone-chilling words." you might say. A bummer you insist.Well ,I'll paint "tonight" for you and then you might feel the phobia.Picture this- A seventh grader , a small kid who has yet to face the harsher realities of life , a bunch of seventh graders actually , lined up , silent and trembling as the prefect ( a 12th Grader from the Prefect body) walks up and down stopping occasionally to stare the living daylights out of one of them and then it starts - the traditional dips , front support , 2 mins to the scoreboard and back and the timid seventh grader tries his best to keep up with the frequency at which the punishment comes but he is not good enough. So , time for him to bend over and receive his punishment for not carrying out the punishment properly.The kicks are easy , if its hockey sticks (Which it is for the 10th graders) then you've run out of all the luck in life mate! It doesn't last for long , half an hour at the maximum and one hour for the senior guys but yes we all do remember the two hour "horror" we had to face back  in seventh grade.Kids have it easier now, we had a tough time and the people before us were not exactly the part of the 'lucky bunch' . Welcome to punishment-time in boarding life!

When we entered Dixon Wing , we were wary of the infamous 'fatigues' and were cautious in the beginning but we were kids , we broke rules and were punished as an effect. I remember the first one , loads of dips and running to the scoreboard (it is really far!!) but being sixth graders we were always let off easily.The worst ones for me were the ones when you had to change into your college kit in 2 minutes , because I had to tie my tie each and every time and it actually took up most of the time and then we had to do it all over again.Class 7 was worse ( we had to write lines!!) .We were a year senior now and more discipline was expected from us but again we fell short on that count and that led to the big 'fatigue' on the night of the fifteenth of August. My arms and thighs hurt for two days.Grade 8 was better as by now we had more friends among the 12th graders and dorm prefects were certainly the best. No fatigues from them , but then the College Captain did not spare us or rather me this year (I know this might sound harsh to him but of course it was his duty I realise that ) .I spent atleast 30 minutes once doing rounds of the front quad with my hands held high and on another occasion after two and a half hours of non stop badminton I was caught by him again for breaking the rules.So that is how it was - a long story of back breaking punishments a.k.a fatigues
I left Sherwood that year and if allowed to reverse time I would go back to my years in Sherwood even if it meant all the slogs and dips again!!

The Poet that Wasn't!

After many years and innumerable attempts that continue till date I still haven't been able to understand what it takes to be a poet.Is it the sweet rhyme , the words that toy with your mind or simply the deeper meaning ?
The 'English Poet' has always been a source of great intrigue for me. I have searched far and wide and still my questions remain unanswered. For my part I have even scouted for texts that say 'What makes a true poet?' or the 'The Beginner's Guide to Becoming a Poet' but all such efforts have only ended in vain.
My earliest attempts had always been at getting words to rhyme .I was pretty successful till it dawned on me (courtesy : the English teachers) that poems are not a mere play of words.There is a deeper meaning. So , as I was into experimenting ,I tried my hand at this too but with miserable results .Poems that did not rhyme or were innocent of the sing-song approach did not hold any interest for me.My reading practices were restricted to entertainment .I did not seek philosophical insight into worldly matters nor did I look for inspiration (but this is another matter that I shall take up later). I for one was (to be read as am) a self proclaimed 'Experimental writer' as I only loved (and still do) to play with words- no meaning ,no philosophy just plain entertainment.(I know someone will oppose this! but 'someone' I do not include those writings as among my experiments)
 Now years have passed since I last wrote a poem (read as completed a poem) and here I shall share one of my efforts childhood efforts made back in 2005. These were written during 'prep' time back in Sherwood .Now , do not mistake me to be of the lazy kind , I know prep times means study but try studying after stuffing yourself with 4 hostel-grade chapatis.So here it is :

A KNIGHT'S TALE

(A poem by Anurag Arya ,VIII-B )

I was a knight from the town of Dover

Serving a Count with my horse named Rover

The daring deeds I have done outnumber the men

In the army of the Emperor by hundred times ten

When I was young ten years before

My parents had wanted me to be a writer of lore

My father was a farmer and my mother a housewife

And they valued me more than they valued their life

With the help of my brother,I persuaded them to let me go

And be a knight to fight many a foe

My mother wept and my father stood still

My mother's tears a cauldron could fill

So on the eve of a winter day

For the last time I bundled hay

At night I took my parents leave and set out

Into the unknown world I rode with many a doubt

On the third day of my journey I stood

Before Dover's walls wearing a hood

I rode directly to the Count's great manor

Which bore on its walls , a figure of an anvil and a hammer

The Count took me into his service at once

I was sent to a nunnery to protect the nuns

For a war was in progress at that time

In the country along the coastal line

Within three months I was at the battle front

Leading troops,with them the enemies I would hunt

I did not spare the young or the old

Seeing me the enemies' blood with fear turned cold

Winning honours I was soon knighted in the County

I was the hero of the day and I received a lot of bounty

Everyone present toasted in my name

My parents were there and I earned a lot of fame

During the banquet seated with the old

I saw a beautiful lady dressed in gold

I vowed that very moment on my life

 To marry her and make her my wife

She was the Count's niece I was told

 I walked straight up to her I had to be bold

Kneeling before her for marriage I proposed

She agreed and from the crowd a cheer arose

A month after this when no axe hacked

I was informed that the French had attacked

Leading an army of thirty-three score

I slaughtered the enemy,their coats of mail I tore

I bloodied my sword a thousand times

During the battle , the Battle of Limes

As it was fought on the outskirts of Limetown

Whose people served my country's crown

I lost an arm and an eye

But I did not for once cry

As I knew I could no more

Fight a battle , so I started writing lore

Now that I lie on my deathbed , my friend

I have remembered my good days till the end

When my eyes shut as I die

Please, I beg thee, do not cry

 

This is the last poem that I ever completed. Every attempt since then has been in vain (certain writings not included for consideration) .If you ever decide to pen my life (well I know that is a big ask!) be certain to include a chapter 'The Poet that Wasn't"!

Unchanging changes!

On the 30th of the last month ,I was lucky enough to meet my 'best pal' Maneesh . It was a day to remember , just going in circles around CP again and again , remembering those good days of old , it was a great feeling! Then a trip to his house for lunch , Well ,time flew and pretty soon  it was again time to bid adieu .

     Memories!!

                                                        
It certainly is something when you meet your best friend after five years! (the time span is shocking isnt it?) and what was the sweetest of surprises was that I realised that we were just the same (I wont mention the height difference here though) as we had been when we left Sherwood in 2005.
Greeting each other in the same old Sherwoodian tongue , it was a meeting of long lost brothers to be precise.He is still the same old person - with everything in his life arranged properly , the old case of football fever , never diminishing love for Nike!! ( I remember that he actually loved the yellow Nike t-shirt that I had brought for the treks and he was always going on about sports brands) .As memories rushed back , I felt that we were back in Sherwood and were probably strolling to the canteen .I almost expected him to ask me to join him for a game of badminton , some futta ,cricket or some more practice on the irani santoor .
When he paid for the coffee this time , I remembered that ,back in Sherwood, I used to usually run short as far as finances were concerned and well, it was real pain getting some money out of him (though he always gave it to me in the end).
While I'm and always have been a 'confused' case, he is still the same old Verma who keeps tab of everything that is going on around.So , it was no surprise as he updated me on the whereabouts of many old buddies as he has been in touch with most since he left.
It is the most wonderful of things to find your old friends as they were when you were together and frankly I had been dreading that maybe we both had changed and would no longer get along like we did in Sherwood. Well , now that clouds of  doubts have been replaced by that strong friendship I can still say that Verma is still my best man! 

I just need an excuse to be HAPPY!

My life bricks!! ....good that you landed on it (and better for me to share my life with someone) .I ,well , I guess you shouldn't check out the Profile displayed on the blog ,rather , let me introduce this protagonist to you myself :
The name means love (or endless love....i am not sure) ,
the height means a clear view from the top ,
the face means ...umm.... just another creation of God (with spectacles) ,
the voice a signal for you to run when he sings,
the interests mean a confused personality ,
the contact details do not mean anything at all!! (access them from  the Profile if you want)
and the words written above mean that he shall talk to you in an indirectly straight manner!
So, after this fairly detailed introduction I hope that you are now well acquainted with the protagonist and if it ever comes to pass that we meet I know that you'll recognize him at once!

Now that the introductions are done with , and as I end this post I shall share a secret about the protagonist
(a very deep secret) and the one he calls his one golden rule 'Life is a bike ride over a bumpy track , either frown and curse or better , smile , shout out -let the world know that you are on one hell of a ride'  . In other words he just needs an excuse to be happy!

Catch you later!