On writing

Writing, I have always believed is something which just comes, involuntarily- a paroxysm of thoughts spread out on a piece of paper or as is the case here, scattered as little black pixels on a white screen. Somewhat like a sneeze which you have no control over. It just comes, when it has to come, you know- Achhooooo! I like succumbing to its power. Writing is my catharsis and redemption. Even when it's complete nonsense or crappy, sentimental, overtly maudlin bullshit. It relaxes me, cheers me up and it lets me be. It offers me those rare moments when I am not saying or doing a thing just because i am supposed to. Even somewhat lacking and a little raw, it's satiating. It's encouraging to see a piece of my seldom used mind and relieving to not have to conform to the usual rules. It surprises me sometimes to go over old posts- to feel it all again through the eyes of a stranger. I write because i don't want to forget, because i want to know what i think and also because i want to be read. 

I have been terribly missing my writing demon for a lately,scared to think that i might have been exorcised of it for good. Thankfully, it's still here and i don't know why it didn't make an appearance all these days. Much happened in the past few months- including me graduating. I could have written about college getting over. But there was no point in writing about it really. College and i had a weird relationship and it has ended like an awkward break up.I would rather leave it as an unresolved chapter than take upon the cumbersome task of getting a closure. I could have written about not clearing the final round of getting into a college entirely different from mine. I could have written about my annoyance at everyone wanting to marry me off at twenty freaking two.I could have written about my month long ordeal at having to cook and clean while mum was away,about the panic of being responsibilities suddenly being thrust upon my shoulders, about the feeling of pride at being called immature. Conversations, arguments, encounters- amusing and great for reading. Was it because i didn't want to revisit these past months? Because I don't want to feel the way i had been feeling, again? Because i was sick of my narcissistic musings? Or may be it was something less dramatic like lethargy.Possibly. I hit the snooze button quite a few times and it's nice to be awake. It's nice to be able to write again.

Silver streaks

“BOO”...a tiny voice called shaking me up from my alarm- clock- beating, self induced coma. “Wake up didi, i have come to wake you up” It was so different from mom’s usual shrilly cries of “COLLEGE NAHI JAANA KYA?” and so unfamiliar that i woke up from the shock of it. My neighbour’s son was standing in my bedroom...trying to make me do the right thing. I don’t start cooing when i see kids but I have to admit that some of them are so charming in their innocent self righteousness that it totally makes me forget my cynical old-lady self and this one had a chubby little cherubic face and a smile that would cheer even the grumpiest person on the planet. I sat up while he nonchalantly chattered on without any self consciousness, without worrying what i think of him, without hesitating that he might be being intrusive(and the similar sort of crap which has killed my social skills). He saw a stuffed doll hanging in front of my wardrobe and laughed at me “HA HA you are so old...and you still play with dolls?” The doll was a going away/birthday present from my ex roomie and bff with a peculiar note attached to her Vista desktop (My name is chatni. Mind it). She had always promised to set me up with a cutie and the doll was her way of living up to that promise. The doll is the quintessential boyfriend..blue eyes, flawless skin and a boyish smile. He is always there for me, is not demanding, doesn’t get bored with me and doesn’t ever complain about anything –everything that i had on my “my boyfriend should be like” essay (“You never said that he was supposed to be breathing”, she had explained). I dint tell Shubham all that of course!(Shubham, is the kid who said BOO). Instead I mumbled something about “Oh! I don’t play with him..it just hangs there for show”. I made a mental note to explain this to Darcy(yeah he has a name!) later. If he was offended he dint show it. “Do you make stuffed toys?” “Eh..er..no” “My didi makes them.” “What didi” “Shreya didi. She used to go to office and she used to go to college. Pata hi nahi chalta tha ki college jaati hai ya office jaati hai, fir woh sirf office jaane lagi.” Which was a good thing cause it ended his confusion and i didn’t have to explain why i couldn’t make stuffed toys. “Aap ab bed se uthh jaao...”,he commanded turning away and disappearing downstairs.

Dark Cloud: Kids are gooey and annoying attention seekers

Silver Lining: They are also pure, guileless sweethearts who you can't keep away even if you are the Grinch's mother in law

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“Guess What?”, My friend said excitedly from the other side of the phone..barely able to suppress his laughter.

“What?”

“I am going to be so successful in life”

“Uh huh...” i said wondering whether he had met a psychic or a pundit with a parrot.

“I was in the practical lab and then i heard that a company was coming without any eligibility criteria. So i sat for the aptitude test topped it and totally conquered the PI. It was such a rush. Ha Ha. I had so much fun. I was talking back to him..giving superb answers. He asked me What guarantee do you have that you will join me and not your family business. I said “I don’t give you any guarantees sir! I might totally change my mind and so he had continued having the most honest interview of his life, speaking his mind out (stuff I used to think of saying while preparing for interviews but never actually mouthing it). It was totally hilarious the way he had given the rest of the interview. I want to give a total transcript, but he might sue me for “copyright infringement”.

“Give an example of a time when you were made to do something you didn’t like”

“four years’ of engineering”

I rolled with laughter, recalling my own interview last day and how different that had been.( I did have an honest moment there when he asked me what dbms i would use and i said SQL because it was the only DBMS i was familiar with). It was not the jokes that had me laughing so hard, it was the happiness, the thrill of not needing to prove one self, not needing to impress, of not needing to do a job that you would never imagine doing as a kid, not having to give weird circuitous answers to uncomfortable questions

“Why should we take you”

“If i knew that i wouldn’t be sitting here giving this interview i would be somewhere else taking it.”

Dark Cloud: The world is of the hypocrites, for the hypocrites, by the hypocrites.

Silver Lining: An honestly screwed interview makes you happier than one in which you have lied your way through. Our highest points are those when we let ourselves be our true selves.

* * * * * * *

I was walking to the station like a zombie. No expression on my face, my senses shut down. The world ain’t very pretty from the perspective of a single girl walking alone. She draws stares, rude comments, sniggers, taunts..stuff like that. A voice pierced through my defences...it was one of the kids who play in the field outside my colony ( Okay this is another kid moment here, but it’s true and also kid’s always take me by surprise). I walk in absolute terror when i pass through this playground, cause the kids nowadays are very precocious in a very unflattering way. I look at them as budding eve teasers, the ones who go to some local excuse for a school. Typical anti kids who learn cussing before they learn the alphabet. So it took me some time to register that one of them was calling out Didi, didi, like a digital alarm clock. Shoot...i braced myself for some rudeness, my fists clinched automatically. Time kya hua hai? I blinked. Was it a joke? Was it a trick? Was it a sincere question?

“Paanch bees”, i yelled back

“the kid, he was gangly. Wore a tattered shirt and by the looks of it spent all his time in the play ground. He nodded thoughtfully and i walked on partially relieved, when he shouted out

“thank you didi” and his friends joined in as well “thank you didi”

I smiled. I felt sheepish for dismissing them as riff raff while they were probably as adorable as Shubham. I smiled again and walked on. Not fearing people for once.

Dark cloud: the world is full of ugliness...people who revel in your misery

Silver lining: chill its not that bad...:-)

Done all Wrong

The first storm of this year in Bengal.

It starts with a gentle wind, which gradually gets fiercer and then menacing, throwing dust at earth’s face, while the lightning looks on cackling with spite.

It’s a depressing night today. Or so i feel as i sit on my terrace, facing the storm, the wrongs, the injustice, the failures. There was a time when I believed that nothing ever could go wrong with me, that i was the luckiest person on earth, that i was a part of God’s great big plan. There was a time when i had faith. Was. Had.

It’s not that my personal disappointments qualify as any major tragedy. The world is faring much worse. I try to reason with myself (half heartedly) and fail at that too. My eyes keep welling up with my selfishness, and shedding it doesn’t unburden my heart. It’s dark now...and the sky is falling, its pieces sharp, soaking everything.

The Valley Of Fear by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: A book review

Spoiler Warning: Contains Spoilers. Proceed at your own peril.

Sherlock Holmes intrigues and impresses. He demands a reverence which i would never offer any other detective fictional or otherwise. So when I was made aware of the fact that there existed a Holmes novel which i hadn't read, my soul became restless. I hunted the book down and immediately started wading through the valley of fear. The first few lines and it takes only one word from Holmes to think that i had missed a very important novel.. Moriarty. So i brace myself for a spine thrilling adventure of deductions and danger. But Holmes disappears after a fairly easy case and the remaining book is spent in forming the backdrop of the ridiculously easy case(set in a beautiful castle though, all with moats and drawbridges) and ends without Moriarty making an appearance. This was so much like Study in Scarlet, yet not as heart tugging.

I didn't like it much and this fact alone disturbs my conscience. But oh, what could I do? There's so little of Holmes and Watson is absent too, as i am forced to wander alone in the murky valley of the Scrowers, who revel in organized crime. They have a secret brotherhood, requiring a mysterious branding on the arm too.But where is the fun in that? No deductions. No logic. No big revelations. The brotherhood, with all the fancy rituals is simply a gang of criminals murdering mine owners. The best thing about Holmes' stories is the bright warm glory of realization. The feeling never came, even when I had reached the last line of the novel. I couldn't be convinced that the novel had ended(i had to cross check to be sure that my copy didn't have pages missing). Immensely dissatisfying

Home Alone

[Image courtesy: notcot.com]

I sort of have a tendency to draw myself into a shell when people are around, but not having them around me doesn’t go too well with me either. I don’t know what this post is going to be about. I am writing only to distract myself. Six months have passed since I relinquished my hostel room for the comfort of full meals and a vast bed. And now that I am not maniacally preparing for MBA entrance exams, the loneliness pangs are sort of getting to me specially, on days when college is off. With Mom gone, it’s worse. I wonder how bad it is for her-staying indoors day in and day out. How does she bear these lazy, enervating, empty afternoons? Practice, perhaps.

Solitary musings are not a very great idea; the temptation to reminisce is utterly strong. We used to make a lot of crazy plans in our hostel rooms, snuggled together. Sometimes we even went as far as carrying them out. None too wild of course! We are all very well behaved, guardians of propriety, umm almost. I say that because at this very instance I can see myself and Fodoo walking over the hostel boundary wall to avoid wading in rain water and jumping over the gate. Fodoo went first while i stood hesitating. I was thinking of the time when i had done a similar thing but the gate had not been very kind to my clothes. But, with friends, you cannot but take the jump right? So i took my chances. The hostel owner saw this. She rebuked us for giving ideas to guys. We were er... compromising security. As if the guys wouldn’t have figured out that the wall was low without our help, duh! So we stood fighting back laughter and looking rather sheepish. But once we escaped from KAKIMA’s basilisk eyes, we were rather pleased. But I knew that our paths would cross again. She was so Dolores Umbridge¹ . The second Dolores Umbridge, I had happened to encounter. The first one was my biology teacher in higher secondary. We were jubilant when she left. Biology in our school was as cursed as Defense against the Dark Arts. The teachers never stayed for more than a couple months. We were not complaining though. Biology classes used to be boring. No, boring doesn’t quite cover it. They were soporific. The teacher used to read from the text book. It was the best lullaby, i had ever heard, almost magical. Infact the class had only looked lively once, when we were covering the reproduction system. I swear I wouldn’t have laughed or found it amusing but then she had to go ahead and explain how this was “all very normal” and then I couldn’t stop it. None of us could and we all exploded at the same time guffawing. But I am digressing. It’s funny how all these memories are coming to me from all corners. So coming back to Dolores Umbridge II, the lady with the basilisk eyes. So as i was saying, I crossed her again. Or I made her cross. Whichever is appropriate. It was raining, not just drizzling. Raining, beautifully. Large drops, consistent shower and my roommate chatni managed to drag me to the terrace for a rain dance. We were joined by a few more but the others refrained and were they wise to do so. A girl came up running, “SHE IS COMING FOR YOU”. Immediate Panic, we couldn’t go down to our room, she stayed on our floor. We took refuge, but she came for us wild eyed, enraged, hurling absurd accusations. She even said we were trying to kill her daughter’s baby. [Try to work out the logic here...rain dance => wet floor =>wet stairs => slippery stairs. Slippery stairs + pregnant daughter => the perfect murder] . The roof was banned for an entire year after that and we were labelled as the prodigals. I was not really comfortable being so tagged, but chatni helped me get a perspective. She said “Matiaao! No one can make me feel guilty for having fun”. That alien word worked like a balm and so we just chucked the thing off. Though I do thing “Matiaao” implied burying the thing. But who had time for funerals?

Twilight and the rest: A book review

Warning:

· SPOILERS AHEAD! Turn back while you can

· The following book review is highly opinionated and unfair. It may offend twilight fans, who will be better off ogling at Edward Cullen/Bella Swan images online.

Imagine going on a date with the butter chicken, an absolutely delicious, mouth watering butter chicken exuding the most appetizing aroma ever. Will you have the restraint to stay with that chicken, not eat it but stay with it and protect it from the other salivating monsters? I am not being absurd. This is what happens in Twilight. A vampire falls in love with his food, a pale skinned accident prone chick and struggles to keep her alive. In new moon, the vampire decides he is too dangerous for the chick and leaves her moping only to return. But in this short gap the chick finds that she has options now- a wolf. In Eclipse, the wolf tries for the same chick and the chick loves the wolf too but chooses the vampire over him. Finally dawn breaks. The vampire and chick marry, the vampire converts the chick. Oh they also have a child who hooks up with the sad sad wolf. Hapees endings.

Ah! I know I am spitting venom. But that’s because as a fan of fantasy fiction, I feel cheated. Taken in by the hype and embarrassed at having read it. Aren’t vampire stories supposed to be darker, mysterious, gripping? Edward, who fancies himself as a monster, basking in the glories of first love, is neither dark nor brooding. Bella is foolishly, blindly trusting and Jacob is irritating. The other vampires just fail to impress. Everything seems so contrived, pieces conveniently falling in place. The climaxes are comical, absolutely predictable. The language is kind of trite and the narrative is forced. Through the course of the four books, Edward’s over protectiveness and Bella’s clinginess just get progressively annoying. Their love never touches a chord. The romance is nothing like the romances portrayed in Bronte novels. Edward never becomes Edward Rochester. Bella never becomes Jane Eyre. The subplots fail to excite. Things just drag on page by page by page. The lyrical titles of the books are never fully justified. Me not likes.

Fairly Bookish, Bookishly Dull

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I am infamously addicted to books. My roommate used to be very upset with me being engrossed in some book, ignoring her presence entirely. She connived with the other girls and they tried ganging up on me to get me to stop. Then they just gave up, she got used to it and i was free to go zombie on them for hours again. So just like any other self professed lover of books i make it a point to visit the annual book fair in my city. It's almost a ritual. I visited this year's on Sunday. Much of it was deja vu. Same smells, same sights, same crowd. I

wandered quite purposelessly, wasn't hunting for anything particular. I followed my parents just like an obedient toddler, seeing what they wanted me to see. But it wasn't all dull. Mortification awaited me when my father led me to the NCERT bookstall, showing me the books i "hadn't read". He made a few loud observations as well...someone in the other end of the city might not have heard if they were showering at that time with their music system on full blast. The drive back home was long and urghh bumpy. My brother had got his headphones on and i resorted to exchanging smses with my friend. She wouldn't believe that i hadnt found a book to buy. Atypical, she wrote. That annoyed me so i spent rest of the journey, concentrating on not bumping my head and drowning myself in thoughts. The only thing that stops me from wearing a helmet when Papa drives, is that he might not take it too well. I was much amused by a recent newspap

er report about this supposedly dead man in one of the villages in Bengal. En route to the burning ghats, he sat up, asking the pallbearers for water. He was much angry at his son for all the fuss. It cracked me up as i played numerous versions of it in my mind. I was really tired when we finally reached home, and then Papa informed us that we would have to go with him on the doctor's club picnic with family(I say informed, well he actually had posed it as a question creating the illusion of a choice, but there was no opting out )

Ah PICNIC- such a silly, funny little word. Lunch baskets, mats, badminton rackets, a mild Jan afternoon, an idyllic setting, and people.Picnics are much too contrived to be any fun. So we reach there(after another bumpy ride and my father nudging me to concentrate on the route) and Papa introduces and i hear my brother and myself mumbling shy namasteys and stuff. When i was younger, i used to find it difficult to namaste people i hardly knew, with age hypocrisy becomes easier to

adapt to. The place was a splendid village, a beautiful afternoon straight out of a Jane Austen novel. There also was a Snake House,the "vishesh akorshon(special attraction)". After the namasteys and fake smiles, we entered their abode, more like invaded their listless afternoon. They all looked stoned, perhaps they had a

rave at night.Some hissed at the guide, who was picking them up with a large rod, forcing the otherwise uninterested reptiles to show some sign of movement. I was thinking of course of Harry Potter and the Philsopher's Stone, but the Brazilian Boa Constrictor was not in the house and the other snakes were not well versed in Parseltongue.I didn't miss the irony- the inmates of the "house" caged while the "intruders" moved about leisurely. The funny thing was that the Snakes were sharing their apartments with birds. They had separate rooms of course. It was the first time that I had seen love birds.

They were pretty. But i liked the blue finch better. I also saw a Turkey(pic on the left) for the first time. He was a show off through and through. My brother wondered aloud how people could eat the bird. I was pretty clueless myself. As we took their leave, i had little inkling that the best part of the day was over. The spot that had been chosen for the picnic was a lovely garden. Not very ostentatious or exotic, kinda just right. I would have loved to just lie there with headphones in my ears and a P G Wodehouse infront of my nose but there wasn''t much chance of that happening. So instead i found myself miserably trying to hit a plastic cock, against the wind while my brother kept smashing it mercilessly at the other end. There also was an exclusive ladies special round of musical chairs, unique in that, at times everyone stopped moving altogether. The "gents" had a football match. The duration in commensurate with their stamina was decided to be of fifteen minutes. Uncoordinated was the buzz word. Most members of the "gents" teams looked like they had a football tucked under their tee shirts(it was hard to tell whether they were playing in two teams, cause everybody was aiming for the same goal post) but i hadn't seen such energy in my father. He looked so alien in a football field, his face flushed with energy. It's funny how we can't see our parents to be anything other than our parents. After the match one of the kids sneaked off the microphone and started singing songs from behind a tree. That sort of inspired the other kids as well and they all took turns to singing. The sort of thing we were supposed to go all awww and ooooh and aaaaah and hahaha about. Only i couldn't. Croaky children with microphone is a bad idea. After that, we had run out of things to amuse ourselves with. The we being the "family". The doctors had a booze party going on side by side. No boredom there. The remaining hours were excruciatingly long and slow. The aunties were having the same oft repeated conversation i have grown up hearing. My brother, my sole source of entertainment failed me too. It took too long for the thing to come to an end, too long to reach home and too long for me to write about. The good thing about the Sunday- Federer won the Australian Open in straight sets. Yay!

Hateful things

The more things change the more they remain the same, the saying goes. More or less a cliche but its realization never ceases to surprise me nonetheless. So when today I stumbled upon "The Pillowbook", I found myself grinning. In the year 999, the same date today, a lady called Sei Shonagan was probably sitting in her bed too, scratching her notebook with a quill, recording her memoirs and observations. Complaining about this and that. I was really amused to read her list of "Hateful things" and was inspired to compose my own(hehe! it was fun)

Men peeing in public. It makes me wanna shut myself in my room forever and never get out at all. Not even when i run out of conditioner. It immediately fills me with disgust. I hate it. It's even worse than people digging their noses in public. YUCK YUCK YUCK!

Mosquitoes(this was in Sei's list too :-D). But really they still do come to me with their awfully pitched serenades only when I am about to sleep.....A millenium has passed. They are still despicable.

It's cold and I am in a warm quilt, reading a novel to beat all novels, completely engrossed in the story and then someone will have to knock on your door. I ignore them at first, but they will keep you knocking till I get out of that heavenly, warm quilt and well open the door....and then they want help in doing something really mundane. Abominable

I am in college, chilling with my friends and a guy passes by who I am not much acquainted with and then one of the friends start telling about how great and rich and pretty and open his girlfriend(who you know nothing about) is. That makes me want to roll my eyeballs off.

I am downstairs, I hear my phone ringing upstairs, I hurry upstairs and it turns out to be one of those "prerecorded" messages from your service provider. Instant hatred.

I am standing in a local train for a long time in a passage. Another lady boards at some station asks every passenger where they will get down and books a seat for herself. I am half irritated at myself for not doing the same thing.

People I am trying to avoid and who know this because I have made it obvious to the point of being rude finding ways to place themselves in my proximity, overhear your conversation with your group and butt in the conversation and talking to everyone in the group except me.

A visitor arriving just when my favorite show is about to start, sitting in the living room, not speaking much, staying only as long as the show would last and promptly leaving when the hour passes.

This happened a lot last year when after squandering almost the whole day I would finally sit down with the books and a dear friend would call making me squander further and on hanging up i would find my studying enthu all gone.

Wailing babies.....ah! they cease to be cute when they are screaming at the top of their lungs on a hot day in a jam packed local train.

Drunkards...they stand in the middle of the streets and they hurl abuses left right and centre. Ugly. Even those over smart dharti pe bojh guys who can't keep their mouth shut when a girl passes by for that matter. Uglier cause they are sober.

speaking of ugly....

Rakhi Sawant.

I guess I will keep adding more as they occur to me. Lol! And i used to think that i am not a person to nurse grudges.

Reclaiming Life

A rejection always leaves a bad taste in mouth(Yuck!). In none of my narcissistic sugary B school day dreams did I ever think of the red line of pseudo-regret: you haven't been short listed. We wish u luck with your other endeavors. It is like being dumped( It's just not working between us...I hope u understand. It's not you it's me) They should have been more creative and honest.Like "you think you're good enuf for our Bschool, OUR bschool....HA!"A funny pill would have gone down my throat easily.

Anyways so that was one...i guess there are more rejection letters to come. Now is the time to grow philosophical wings. It's unfair how the things that you don't want keep dropping in your lap easily and frequently...while your true desires remain elusive(God's idea of humor maybe). I have never worried about any particular year much. But this year well is getting on my nerves already! It's so painful to "just miss" the mark. Neither here nor there. This sense of Unbelonging- it just gets stronger and stronger everyday. I feel like running. May be i will go for a run this evening. So much for the "universe conspires" theory! I just think i will go back to stuff I liked doing....instead of coming up with ways to market myself. Sheesh!

Meanwhile a good thing has happened too :-D. I am getting readers now. It's a great feeling seeing a comment. For a year i just wrote without bothering much about traffic or followers or comments. But now that i see people actually finding it worthwhile to spend time here...it's a pretty cool feeling. It's nice to see ya people. Keep em comments coming!

The Wrath of a Goddess

Today is Do-Not-Disturb-Your-Books-Or-Else-Face-Divine-Wrath day or as we say in Hindi , Saraswati Puja. I am not religious much but my superstitions get the better of me all the time. So with 2010 being my year of results, I am striving hard to be on the right side of the Divine power.

The good thing about the once a year Pujas is that they are once-a-year, easily adjustable. The Punditji, who acts as the interpreter between me and Mother Knowledge was actually more of a Pundit intern. Not a handsome intern though, which was a good thing! So we sat there...invoked Lord Ganesha, invoked the nine planets, invoked Vishnu, Shankar and all. This kinda clearance is necessary cause you gotta make sure that you don't offend the Big Guys. The rituals are quite simple actually, you invite your guest, run her a bath, present her with new clothes, perfume, flowers, then you offer her refreshments, water, compliment her a lot, greet her and thank her...

I wonder why Saraswati Ma takes offence to people picking up books to read and not to the glaring speakers. Talk about the convenience factor in religion, Ha!

Empire Of the Sun

There is something moving, something really inspiring about the human spirit- when it is in its indomitable form and something truly horrifying about the absence of it.

My Monday afternoon would have been sluggish, but for Jim who granted me the vicarious thrill of living as we are meant to. He dint see the Japs as enemies, he was fascinated with fighter planes and he enjoyed his life at the camp learning from the "University of Life". A great story with great moments.......

System Resume

Wow! i am finally done with all the management entrance tests. One would have thought that i would now get a chance to put my feet up...not happening!

January is still not over and i have already taken two tests(one horrible, the other was appetizing) and even given a job interview.

Looking back at the day of counseling, when i chose to condemn myself to four years of captivity in the school of uncool, i wonder what inspired me to take that decision. Ah! Campus Placements. That was what all engineering was about. A comfortable job in a snazzy IT company. Then Recession happened. Anyways 2010 came with the news of placements. It all happened too fast. Our college had arranged pre-placement trainings. HA HA HA. So i travel for three hours and reach No man's land and get a careless apology by the trainer guy that he had an "important meeting". Of course he had. No time for lesser mortals. Seething, fuming I came back pledging never to attend another one of his "enlightening sessions". I instead spent my time buying classy interview formals and getting a new hair cut in one of those overpriced Salons. Much better use of time and much more rewarding. Making my resume was mortifying.....

Objectives

er..........ummmm...........well...........ahem

Education

attended school

they kicked me out with avg grades

attended college

they will kick me out with avg grades

Accomplishments

1. managed to keep myself alive for 21 years
2. have survived on junk food for three years
3. am taller than 90 percent of the guys in my class ;-)

Interests

novels, movies, music (what else has meaning in this world!)

Skills

1. procrastinating
2. cooking up excuses
3. dozing off during lectures(certified)

Well it was disastrous so i had to ahem paraphrase. That was done. Next on my checklist was "mugging up" basically i had to mug up everything i had studied (or was supposed to anyway) in a span of 1 and a half day. It was impossible but that made it fun actually(it dint happen but well something's better than nothing).

I reached the venue on "THE APTITUDE TEST DAY" looked at the rest of em, realized i was overdressed(Shit!). There was a lot of staring and pointing. Mortification Rehashed. After that there was the aptitude test. The tension in the room was palpable. I was so relieved when my name wasn't called(they were calling out the names of the people who weren't selected). It wouldn't have gone down well with my suit. The next day was the interview.

Getting ready in two hours, traveled another three hours to reach the venue, waited three and a half hours for my turn. The interview lasted for exactly 10 minutes. I was stumped twice. Once when she asked why she should take me?(I dont know I wont take myself)

And again when she said Fountain Head is a bad novel (Lady! Are you a Mills and Boons fan?) Rest was plain technical stuff. They haven't still informed whether i am in. Well in or out, it was some experience. Lesson: no matter how prepared you are it is very hard not to be yourself.