Normal service is resumed.

One of my New Years' resolutions (Yeah, I kinda believe in them but there's been enough hullabaloo on this earlier so I wouldn't clarify my stand. Rather, it would become pretty clear soon...) at the start of 2006 was to maintain a diary. That, I felt, would help me improve my vocabulary and make my brain a lil' less cluttered. But of course, this lazy fatso would have to pick his fat butt off that couch every night and fill up an unforgiving page of that book and that, seemingly, was too much of an ask. So, after 4 months (which included 2 months' pages filled up in two nights with some of the biggest alphabets I've ever written), I finally gave up on that.

That was just another of those resolutions I had solemnly pledged to stick to every year and had, thanks to my blissful slothfulness, again broken. This year, too, started off with a few resolutions but experience has made me a little smarter. I haven't yet given up on the idea of resolutions but have instead tried making them more practical for my indolent self.

But why am I talking resolutions more than 50 days after the start of the year?
Well, it turns out that this very page you've wandered onto was one of my resolutions for 2008. But, in accordance with my new-found wisdom, I resolved NOT to maintain a regularly-updated, critically-acclaimed and box-office-hit blog BUT just to start a blog; nothing to boast about. This explains (unasked for) the long hiatus.

Anyways, it's been quite a week gone by and quite a week to come and as always, the week after TS (test-series for the uninitiated) always gives one much to type about (if you have the time and patience for, of course, which I happen to have as I've been kicked out of a tutorial for arriving 123 seconds late). To continue on a cliched note, Mera TS kaafi theek-theek raha, un ghissuon se behtar thodi hoga? ("My TS went pretty well; obviously not better than those Ghissus"), which brings us to the oh-so-used word down here - Ghissu.

Sandwiched between Foci and Haddu in the insti lingo dictionary, Ghissu, although a frequently used word, occupies a very lowly place on the list for the most used words in our hostel (the only non-profane word above it being Chapo, which literally translates into a treat). It is a word used for those highly-hated (at most times except for when exams attack, when their fisrt-bench-compiled "super"notes come in handy) people (I deliberately avoid the use of "humans" or "Earthlings" since many of them are considered to be from other planets) who spend (a la ostriches) most of their time buried in course books (inviting the ire of most, exceptions being people of their ilk). They have a minimal social life(which extends from going to the mess for the essentials to attending classes, which they NEVER miss, and calls of nature) and are in total contrast to those who're only guests in their own rooms!

This word's usage attains a seasonal high in the days before and after TS. And as that is now, I have to be very liberal in my usage of the word because of people complaining about the word losing its novelty (we've been here over 6 months now) and thereby not being such a foci word to use after all! And also, with my TS having passed by theek-theek, I'm being barraged by the unflinching use of the word and it's difficult to pass through any social gathering without having to scratch the word out of your ears.

It brings about a self-introspection in me.

Am I a Ghissu? Nah, can't be. That's for losers with nothing better to do. But wait. have I got anything better to do? The blog where I never post? The tennis courts, on whose beautiful synthetic surface I set my feet upon once in 3 months? The magazine, for which I never submit quality stuff, and crib about too less people attending the meetings? Those long gossip sessions which usually start and end nowhere? The pursuit for attaining Sudoku nirvana? Oh, no. I AM a Ghissu, right?

Answer- NO.

Proof?





Fragster killed kik a** (Sorry for this, Kart. But I LOVED IT!!!) with a head-shot from m4a1.

Did I say there was this tech-fest called Cognizance coming up? An event called Chaos...

Winter Mornings

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!



There goes off my early morning alarm at 6:30 a.m. The beeps ring in my ears seemingly perpetually. A hand, begging for mercy to stay in the warmth and coziness of that oh-so-nice blanket, reluctantly reaches out for that piece of digital madness which drives its beholder crazy every morning- and finds nothing but a badly placed glass and some other pieces of cutlery in its wake. Ah! Have I gotta get up and switch off that ruddy thing right now? As the temperature creeps up from its midnight nadir to a more acceptable 7.5 degrees (which I managed to catch from the corner of my half-ajar eye as I groped to switch that digiclock off), I stole a glance outside my window to see a foggy canteen alone, although the Met department says the visibility levels are pretty high for this time of the year. My groggy mind wonders whether to venture out of the cosiness of the blanket into the cold surroundings outside- the decision was pretty easy.



It's a Saturday today. No classes today but there's the dreaded NCC drill again. A new sem moved into its fifth day and NCC too made its comeback to every (so-called) cadet's grimace in the Bhawan (which is what our not-so-hospitable hostels are called). 8:30 a.m. My cellphone alarm now urges me to pull my lazy arse off that bed now (the digiclock has been drowsily put to rest below the table on which it fatefully rang two hours ago). A trip to the bathroom for a blind brush revealed everyone else in the corridor (contrary to my expectations) had succesfully fought off an urge to stay in the warmth of their blankets and get ready for another one of those long drills in the grounds. A bath is ignored (with disdain by most others) by me a little reluctantly- a daily bath seems to have become a luxury nowadays! I pull on that soily uniform on the same clothes I slept in (too lazy to take them off!) and walk to the mess for breakfast.



15 minutes, a (so-called) burger and a bitter apple later, I'm off (on a cycle with its owner on the pillion as no one would wanna give this overweight retard a lift themselves) to the grounds which (again, contrary to expectations) reveals around a 100 others ready for the drills (well, of course, although 350 are a reluctant part of NCC first-years).



10 minutes later, we're leaving for the hostel again (after uttering an army truck-load of abusives for the no-show of the usually on-time-and-demanding-of-the-same-from-lazy-kids officers), enjoying the winter chill, a view of that inconquerable fortress (the first-year girls' hostel) and a few wannabe Indian Idol voices along the way past the Saraswati Mandir (where a few offer their prayers) and the ABN grounds (where, already, a few schoolkids have started their daily dose of cricket). It's again a different story that we reached the drill grounds 15 minutes late but we still managed to show up, didn't we?



Back to the corridor, the other guys (who share a common penchant for not having a bath even when we have all the time in the world. Gosh, we haven't even got out of our uniform yet!) decide to begin a new game of tennis cricket (this country is so crazy about the sport, we Indians can make anything relate to cricket!), the last instalment of which had resulted in a badly fractured tubelight and quite a few lost tennis balls. I plainly refuse to join in (without being invited to play) and pull out my new Electromagnetics book to brush a few concepts I had missed out while on my regular mid-class trip to Les terres de sommeil. The catch- I couldn't bear the cold in my room so I walked into the sunlit lawns below. I had barely finished reading the name of the author and his university when faces started creeping in from all corners of all floors and questions and accusations flew in at 2.732N times the speed of saliva from a normal human being's mouth (N being Avogadro's number). "Oye! Aaj bhi padh raha hai? Tabiyat kharab hai kya?" (which literally translates from Hindi as"Hey! Studying today? Are you out of your mind?). A handful of seconds later, I was scurrying back to my room (not because of the shouts, but I was sick of repeatedly being asked to throw the ball back up to the pros playing tennis cricket in the corridor), and I reached the warmth and comfort of my blanket, but not before a few expletives and kicks to the behind by my dear comrades (who were decidedly angry with their "ball boy" resigning from his post). I sat in my room contemplating whether to touch that book again and go past the preface.

1:30 p.m. Back after a tiring but fun session of (you guessed it right!) tennis cricket (even I, the perennial cricket critic, couldn't escape its charm), I got ready to have that not-too-palatable lunch served in the mess (which stays true to its name). About the book? It sat on my table, gathering dust till the next time its new owner mustered the courage to pick it up again. And what was its owner doing?

HOWZZAT???
That was out, you idiot!
No, it wasn't!
Oh, you sore loser!
Loser, who?
!@#$%^&*.........

It was just another normal day. I love winter mornings.

A new beginning (isn't ANY beginning "new"?).

OK.

New things galore. The 503rd leap year, a new semester on, and, of course, a new blog for this blabberhead (who, invariably, is typing this in the library of all places possible- which probably explains his helplessness when it comes to academics).

New things galore, alright.

But, some things just don't change do they- a new semester begins with me caught dozing in the very first bench (yet again?) and this blog, too, begins with that oh-so-familiar aimlessness of mine which has characterised the 502nd, 501st, 500th and 499th leap years (and the other 365-day ones in between two) led by me.

So without further ado, I move on to the logical conclusion of this first post- MOVE ON TO THE SECOND! (Hah! I wonder if you really expected this, and I'm pretty sure that you're punching me in your mind in there- OUCH! THAT HURT!)

Happy blogging!

And dear reader, if you decide to navigate again to this very page (which, under normal circumstances, you WOULDN'T), you'd...hmmm.... let's just keep it under wraps for now (which is a nicer way of saying "I don't really know what I'm gonna post.").

Happy reading! (which logically translates to "Happy committing suicide!")