Vicky Donor - A delightful surprise

A very few Bollywood movies leave a mark these days. Most can be categorized as “Forgive and Forget” ones where you forgive the writer for the banality of script, forgive the director for lack of any direction and cast for their hopeless endeavor to get their act together and most importantly as every Indian would agree, we forgive for the exorbitant moolah spent on the tickets at multiplexes. The forget part comes naturally as we are bombarded with 3 to 4 Bollywood releases every week. Once in ages comes a movie in this industry which atones from its sins of banal scripts, both inspired and uninspired ones. Don’t even get me talking about a certain FALTU desi interpretation of the Hollywood classic "Accepted". Point made, such movies are the crème de la crème and Vicky Donor for one deserves this title.

A perfect casting coupled with an excellent script with zany Delhi slang (Better than the Delhi Belly slang mired with MCs, BCs and the like. Just realized how creative Delhiites can get with their language), that’s the highlight of the movie. The story line is fresh, original and somewhat new for our audience. Yes we have been left behind without those “seamen” jokes popular in the west. But guess what we Indians are finally ready to discuss our sexual prowess and fertility. So much so for the stigma of being born with below average sizes, the movie celebrates our Hero Ayushman for his Aryan lineage. A man of proven fertility, he is the quintessential vella Delhiboy, maa aur Daadhi ka ladla, high on life, dating his neighbor. Dr Chadha (a character definitely owned by Anu Kapoor) lures him into this “trading” business with promises of big money and riches. So along this business mixed with pleasure and happy endings, our hero goes through his life, falls in love and marries. His journey is one of revelation where he finally discovers that sperm donation is his way of social service. An expected irony of life triggers this change in him. The movie hit its right with perfect characterization be it Dr Chadha, a true blue businessman who sees through human personalities and personifies their sperm and knows a fertile man when he sees one or Vicky’s “Modern” Daadhi. The cultural bong - sikh clash connects to every Indian who takes pride in this country’s diversity. To sum it up, the movie is awesome and you would not want to miss this one for anything in the world. And yes if there is anything to learn from this movie for our internet misled generation, the message would be “it’s the count not the size that matters”.

A railway scene

Imagine Mumbai as a living entity with its 14 million population working as 14 million cells, all of them alive & communicating with each other facilitating its growth in all respects, then the western railways sure serve as its life sustaining veins. Stastically, the western & the central railway carry a back breaking 60 lac commuters on a daily basis. Its train services fall inadequate owing to the ever increasing surge in the no. of rail users as thousands throng the city in search of jobs and hopes of better life. With the passengers overflowing, there is little scope for managing these unruly crowds as it runs packed coaches at peak hours in the mornings and evenings. Carrying the excess baggages of their taxing personal & professional lives, the rail journey somehow seems the perfect place for losing one’s sanity for that one brief moment and venting out all the anger & frustration that is pent up inside the system. A brawl caused over a shove or accidental stamping on someone’s shoe would seem unreasonable under normal circumstances but the same holds true for most fights in these packed coaches. With temperatures soaring and tolerance levels spiraling down, the coaches r slowly but steadily turning into wrestling rings where anything goes…
Being a regular railway commuter on the western line, I happened to witness one such full-blown brawl. It was a usual weekday. After spending some quality time with my friends in Bandra, I was leaving for home when I boarded 5.40 Borivali Fast from Bandra station. The train entered the platform packed to its capacity as we waited for our turns to push & shove ourselves into the crowded coaches. I had a 1st class pass but seeing the mad rush inside the coach, I decided to opt for the closest second class coach which provided limited space on the footboard. Like the goals in football, even on western railways, the difference b/w hope & despair is only a few inches & I was happy to have found mine. I barely managed to set my toes inside the compartment. Slipping my finger into the drip edge, I thrusted forward with all my might and somehow got into a secure position and held on to the bar at the door. Secure being a relative term, I pondered who needs an adventure trip when we risk our lives here everyday, literally living off the edge! As the signal turned green, the train slowly left the platform. The more I tried to get into a comfortable position, the more awkward it turned out to be, the only time I thought being a contortionist was so cool. Training for this incredible feat should have begun at school level with zero tolerance for those mouth watering vada & samosa pavs, the only way we could have managed to maintain such flexibility levels! Back in the train, a familiar stench filled the air, fortunately not from the gastric labs; it was the organic compound from our chemistry labs, alcohol! On further observation, I realized a fellow passenger in early 20s immaculately dressed with a college bag slung across his shoulder was heavily drunk. His droopy eyes, disheveled hair and an unusual stagger made it amply clear that this guy had been on a crazy drinking binge. He was lost in his own blurry world as he blasted music on his iPod, unaware of his surroundings. Meanwhile, I noticed the older passengers around him were almost smouldering, grumbling over the stench which further aggravated suffocation inside the compartment. One of the self righteous elderly man in his early 50’s mumbled about today’s youth throwing away their life for instant pleasures & gratification while few others nodded in agreement. I, on the other hand dissented as I thought to myself ‘College is the best time of your life. A few extra classes (read glasses) would not harm at the dawn of youth.’ But travelling in this inebriated state in local trains did not seem a good idea to me. He too was going to find this out soon.
Now, Andheri was fast approaching and there was sudden unrest among the passengers who wanted to get down at this station. The ritualistic question “Andheri uttarna hai kya” started doing rounds as more Andheri bound passengers left their seats and proceeded towards the gangway. The elderly man who had been cursing the youngster throughout the journey wanted to get down at Andheri. He asked him to move behind if he didn’t want to get down at Andheri. But the blaring music on his ipod made every other voice impassable. He asked twice to no vain and on the third time, utterly exasperated, he tucked at his shirt rather roughly and abruptly asked his destination. Popping out his earplugs, the boy violently turned behind and glared at him as if he had been slapped right in his face. Looking straight into the man’s eye, he insolently demanded an explanation for yanking his shirt. The elderly man instantly took umbrage at the choice of the words used by the lad to address him as he called him “buddhe”. In his rage, he made this one personal as he asked him if this was the same way he addressed his father. In India, the fights usually go from bad to worse when families get involved and this was sure going to soar into one I thought. It all seemed so horribly wrong a perfect setting for a fist brawl an insulted old man, a volatile drunk youth whose family had just been dragged in. The boy was the first one to let his fist loose as he turned and threw a punch at him. The elderly man flinched right in time and the blow landed on the neighbouring unsuspecting co passenger. This burly commuter in his early 30’s solemnly believed in the adage “an eye for an eye” as he lashed back with a powerful blow to the chap’s jaw. Commotion grew inside the compartment as few other surrounding commuters who had been holding back their long pent up frustration joined in the bashing. Needless to say, the youth was at the receiving end. The elder man, though not physically strong had already garnered enough support through his sanctimonious speech. As the train approached Vile parle, some Samaritan sensing grave danger to the youth’s life pulled the chain and called the GRP. The train came to a screeching halt as a few men shoved the lad out of the coach and continued abusing & beating him mercilessly. The elder man who had turned the mob against him vicariously enjoyed the brutal show from inside the coach. So what if he could not get a piece of this poor guy, he had 5 men fighting on his behalf, who had left the well dressed boy in tatters. Someone had to save the chap who was bleeding profusely from his forehead for some time now. He was visibly trembling, as he managed to stay on his feet while the men seemed determined to send him to a hospital on a stretcher. 5 minutes into the drama on the platform, the GRP personnel stepped in and took the boy in their custody while the men hitting him went scot free as they entered the same coach. The train lagging behind schedule quickly picked up pace. Inside the coach, they smiled looking at each other, swelling with pride, thinking that they had just saved an old man’s honour and respect. ‘But at what cost?’ I asked myself. Did the boy deserve the brutality he suffered in those last ten minutes? Why didn’t the elder man intervene when things got out of hands? He could have just asked those men to stop, the boy posed no threat to anyone after being disoriented with the first few blows. As the questions spun in my mind, Andheri approached. Getting down at the station, I dragged my feet away from the old man fighting the urge to ask one simple question, would u have let your son get pounded and thrashed in public like this under any circumstances?.....

A journey back to the roots

A journey back 2 the roots, couldn't have begun on a sadder note, with the relentless persuasion of my whole family which added to the agony of spending a boring week @ my village, Ajiwali. After all, there seemed no mean to arouse my interest into taking this trip, which seemed unavoidable. After hours of reluctance, that pissed everyone off, I got down to packing my stuff with fumbling hands. Unsure of any fun filled activity that would enthuse me, I thought of making my own arrangements.. Books that would keep me hooked through the long days and lonely nights, just in case I found the whole village, a BIG Disappointment. Well, I could count on them to ensure immunity 4m boredom. Considering I had been the most talked about guy in the society, much to every1’s surprise, I did not intimate ne1 within my friends group, one of the few reasons being embarrassment.. I mean.. Common.. I was big enough not to be bullied by anyone, not even my family into enduring this trip. But still somehow I was on my way, sulking.. May b as my sis mentioned it was only my careless ways that had landed me in a position where I couldn’t rest my case. So, mustering all the optimism from every crevice in my brain, I told myself to live through every moment of this trip, it was obviously going to serve grist to my mill. Besides, the blogging practice had to be revived, and there seemed no better way than a first hand experience of a lesser known world..
As luck would have it, I found an instant pastime on my very 1st day, it was my dimwitted, chatterbox teenage cousin. Well she was just like any other village teen keen on hand to know more about the booming mall cult in the city, bringing along her own ‘Been there done that’ moments. She carried an aura of profound DUMBNESS with a tinge of self pride, the reason for the latter being her mom involved in village politics. Didn’t care enough to get into further details. She did mention something about her mom being sarpanch, considering her mom being confined to her bungalow, even the thought of her becoming one seemed preposterous.. Well wasn’t buying any of her inane stories still they had me guffawing all the way. She had just finish her boards n was awaiting result. Her English exam proved to be a bane as she spoke repetitively about her miserable attempt at the grammar section in it. She mangled the language daily with her English fillers like “By the way”, “Really” n “Actually” in most of her Marathi sentences. I assumed she did it to rage a battle against its creators. Even though it was on a minuscule scale but it definitely made an impact when few of her friends joined this “Sabotage English” gang! Guess her inevitable Dismal English score would be quite an assertion of her stance against the Language within her friend circle!
The whole village waited with bated breath for LIVE Orchestra which was scheduled for the night on 5th May to mark the 3rd anniversary of a Local Ganpati festival n also to celebrate the establishment of the new Idol inside Temple. The village functions almost always crossed midnight n continued till as long as 2 a.m. Deadlines were unheard of in the village as no one really bothered to regulate these boisterous celebration. I personally had attended an orchestra only once around 4-5yrs back. N had some clue about the set up n the kind of music the audience are treated to. It usually has a compilation of old and new Bollywood numbers, from the classics of yesteryear to the sizzling sensations of present times. But what followed at the show blew the lid of my mundane expectations 4m the orchestra LUCKY STAR. That it no way means the show was a hit but it was something unprecedented. The show began with a string of oldies remixed, at fast tempo. The band members mimed through the entire introductory musical note, which left me wondering if there were actually going to play their instruments which included Casio, Drum kit, Congas n electronic guitar. The musical mixture sounded unbearable due to a dud speaker that blared sporadically. After the introductory piece, the anchor announced the first live song to be played with dance performance by the STAR attraction. Their names were consciously selected n pronounced in a manner that would titillate every rural man’s desire. Within a few dance performances, it was clear that the group had 4 gals n 2 guys. The dance shows seemed under rehearsed as the dance moves lacked co-ordination as well as synchronization. Moreover most of the moves were abruptly ended, prominently the swiveling move in which the gals halted within their comforting limit, avoiding dizziness. The men within the gang were no better as they flung their hands and feet into the air which made the dance act look like a new form of combative skill. In one of the solo performances on Crackling Item no., the show gal donning her glittering ghagra choli , restrained her dance steps involving a bit of skin show which left the poor lechers within the local crowd disappointed. The event being a holy one, I presumed that the organizers had conferred with the orchestra team to refrain from any kind of vulgar or sexually provocative move keeping in mind the sanctity of the event. At the end of it all, a perplexing question crossed my mind that whether the event was organized to welcome the new Deity into His refurbished home and pray for its longevity in mint condition or to feed those hungry ogling eyes a racy skin show which lacked a religious touch…
The last incident created a history of sorts, the kind that would always be remembered every time my name rings in the minds of every local who witnessed the hysteria. It all began around midnight of that fate less night. Sleep refused to budge me as I lay sprawled on the wooden bed, riveted in a romantic saga “Dared to dream”. That’s when Dad began fussing about my nocturnal habit and how it affected my health. Also with the lights switched on his sleep was disrupted. He wanted me asleep with the lights switched off. But the climax of the book remained within a single chapter and its pages seemed stuck to my fingers. Now, I wasn’t defiant enough to go against dad’s command of switching the lights off but determined enough to complete the read by the night. So, the night saw me picking up the torch n holding it up, directing its halo like beam into the book. On seeing me hell-bent on finishing off the book by tonight, dad grumbled and put his hands up in despair. Mom seemed supportive of his decision as she tried to dissuade in her sweet way, but I had made up my mind. Within a few minutes, my parents slipped into their slumber, leaving me alone with my book. As I flipped through the last few pages, the dim torch light attracted a few species of flying insects. All of a sudden, one of these flying things zoomed into my left ear within a fraction of second. Unsuspecting of any such intrusion and the sheer shock value of the fact that an insect had entered my ear flung me off the bed and onto my dad’s body with a bellowing cry for help. Mom and dad woke up, startled for a second, they could not comprehend the gravity of the situation as I shouted my lungs out telling them that an insect had been lodged inside my ear. Within minutes, neighbors started pouring in as my helpless loud cries pierced through the silence of the night. Meanwhile, the insect seemed more anxious than I was as it fluttered non stop trying to adjust into the crammed space between the ear walls. As the insect flapped its wings onto the wall, I kicked the opposite wall, pushing my back into his chest as my dad tried desperately to control my involuntary body moments. I coordinated every jerky move with the fluttering within my ears, as I tumbled to and fro between my mum’s and dad’s arm. As the flapping grew intense, the pitch of my desperate shouts increased, justifying Newton’s Third law. Someone from the spectators suggested pouring oil into the Insect jammed ear to ease it out. The treatment was carried out quickly as mom poured oil into my ears. With the first drop of oil touching its body, the bewildered insect fluttered its wing quicker than ever before, guess it was in no mood for sticky oily bath! Now, with the slippery path ready, the time had come to drive it out. This meant a rollicking head banging show was to commence, adding to the amusement of the ingenuous spectators. Paying tribute to all the rock legends, I banged my head sideways onto the cushion hoping for a miraculous exit of that damned insect which somehow managed to cling on.As time flew by, the fluttering became intermittent as the insect, apparently exhausted relented. For me, Relief seemed distant as the thoughts of possible damage and its repercussions started plaguing my mind. Nearly an hour had passed by; the neighbors backtracked their way home. In complete despair, I sought solace within the thought that a new morning would give the search operation a new direction with advice from the local doctor. That night, I embraced my mom all through the night. The clichés never seemed so rite before, as I remembered seeing tears rolling down her cheeks. Yes, MY MUM LIVED THROUGH EVERY PAIN N ANXIETY I SUFFERED. The intervals between the flutter grew, as his life ticked away in these sharp brief movements. The hug grew tighter through these very few movements, depriving her of sleep even for a second. Quite predictably, I did manage a few hours sleep within her caressing wrap. No amount of assurances, advices, medication could equate the comfort of her cozy heavenly hug; therein lay the beauty of this relationship…
Morning got me into the clinic wherein the naïve young doctor saw nothing beyond a boil against the ear walls. Having doubts regarding the credibility of a rural doctor, I accepted that a scrupulous check through a qualified ENT back in Mumbai was the only solution to a blockage free ear. We returned back on Sunday, public holiday pushed my meeting with the ENT a day further. Monday Evening at around 8.30 p.m., I meet the ENT who within a few seconds declared that there was indeed an insect stuck in there close to my ear drum. He flushed out the dead body in three parts viz. the head, the torso and the last being the largest, its wings. The disconnected body parts floating in the plastic container clearly substantiated my claim, dispelling those ridiculous doubts in Dad’s mind if there was any insect traped inside as I remembered him announcing to the neighbors that this is typically Ameya who has always been hysterical. That’s the same chaos he creates every morning while I try and get him up... And he continued singing my praises. No blowing own trumpet here but still if you wish to hear more, dad’s ever ready.. ;)

MY PRICED POSSESSION - LOST AND FOUND

It began like an ordinary day in my routine life. I had to go to the bank to collect the f.d. certificate. Hardly took a few min at the bank, caught a rick back home. Inside the rickshaw, I was habitually compelled to hold the phone in my hands n fidget with it. On reaching my destination, meet a close friend of mine, Riya. She had to buy some pulses from the grocery store, accompanied her till the shop.. We went chit chatting all the way.. She bought the stuff she wanted.. Then we dropped by another small shop in the vicinity for some snacks before heading back to our tower. On reaching our tower's palatial lobby, We got involved in a chirpy conversation.. She wanted to dabble in a basketball slam.. It was noon by then and the prospects of getting drenched in sweaty T-shirt with heart palpitating seemed possible considering the harsh, scorching climatic condition. But I gave in to her request. The excitement on her face that poured out through her catty eyes n grin exhilarated my mood with all the plausible effects of the gruellin session takin a back seat.. So we indulged in a fun-filled action-packed game of basket ball taking shoots by turn.. We played for around half n hour.. She wanted to leave to have her lunch.. As usual, for checking time, I slipped my hand in2 my pocket and 2 my horror, found my cellphone missing.. We started searching for it frantically, within the precinct of the court, hoping that it mite have popped out of my pocket while playing. The chances were bleak since we were involved in an amicable practice session with no vigorous movements involved, besides the sound of the cellphone hitting the ground would have caught our attention. Within a few seconds, I grew a cold feet, trembling within, went blank for a few seconds.. Regaining my composure, I went back in time trying to remember my last moment with the cellphone.. The only moment i remembered was wen i was involved in a conversation with the rickshaw driver, was holding the cell in my hands back then, so the possibility of forgetting it back at the bank was chucked out.. By now, a complete checklist was generated in my mind of all the possible places i could have left it. Looking at her in despair, i asked if she had seen the phone in my hands.. That's wen a bolt struck her mind, she remembered me holding the phone while i was getting out of the rickshaw.. Now another option had been struck out of my checklist.. We went running towards the lobby hoping that it mite have slipped through my shallow pocket onto the couch in the lobby..The search in the lobby turned futile with no signs of the phone.. I asked for assistance from our tower's caretaker Rupesh.. He tried calling on my no.,but the phone was switched off by then.. The pessimists around responded by saying that it was a lost case where the phone had fallen into unethical hands of no return..As time slipped by, all sorts of dreadful consequences of losing my only priced possession started crossing my mind. We went back to both the shops we had dropped by, inquiring about the phone like a c.i.d. team, giving its complete description... All dis while, Riya was very supportive, giving me pep talks, reiterating that she had seen the phone in my hands at the grocery shop as well, and it was lost in the building premises itself. This sowed the seeds of suspicion which led to doubts regarding the integrity of the security guards of our tower.. We went back into the premises, grilled the security but to no vain... I told Riya i would be going home since i had to inform my family, and would be heading to the police station then to lodge a f.i.r. The poor gal was disheartened since our search did not yield any results.. I squatted in the lift cribbing about my fidgeting habit.. Within dis few seconds, i promised myself, if i ever found a lost phone would relentlessly search for its rightful owner n return it to him/her in no time. Now came the magical moment, when THE SECRET lit the fused bulb in my mind.. All this while i was being practical n doing things the lay man way instead of letting the LAW OF ATTRACTION figure out the quickest n easiest way.. I focused on the feel good factor telling myself the phone has always been yours. It was, it is n it will always be with u... That phone belongs to no one but you.. These self centered thoughts helped me generated the feel good feeling most essential for the working of the most powerful law of this universe.. And within seconds my intercom rang, at dis point of time, i believed dis call would bring my phone back.. I picked up the phone to the voice of Rupesh who summoned me down.. As i entered the lift, i was already jubilant with the feeling of phone clutched within my palm.. On reaching the ground floor, Rupesh told me that the local electrician's assistant Zaffar had found my phone on the couch in the lobby and he had handed it over the building chairman Mr. Sawant.. I ran back swiftly into the same lift and went straight to Mr. Sawant's place. I got my phone back.. At dis point of time, i feel compelled to personify my phone, compare her to the golden statue of the Oscar fame, Kissing it n brandishing it as if it was bestowed upon me for my conviction towards THE SECRET.... Also went back to the lobby shared the joy of getting back my phone and the triumph of THE SECRET with my confidant, Riya who cared for n held on to me through this trying hour.. The confidence with which she affirmed the moments she had caught a glimpse of my phone helped me in chucking out most of the dreadful possibilities of losing it in rickshaw n at the grocery shop.. Above all, she exuded optimism when she did not let the thought dat the cellphone might be stolen, waver our search efforts... We celebrated the success with a bottle of lemonade that we shared and let the good times roll in...
HEARTFELT GRATITUDE 2 BOTH RIYA AND THE LAW OF ATTRACTION.........
JAI HO............

LOSS

Picture this..
A toddlers loses his candy on his way 2 school... How does he react??
A. He cries.
B. He grumbles, curses his fate n starts da blame game within his mind
C. He searchs 4 it frantically,reminscin da time he exulted wid da candy n da envious feelin among his friends dat followed, treadin back da same path which he had come all da way
D. He comes in terms wid the loss of his candy, convincin himself dat, dat particular candy was neva meant 4 him. N fends himself a new one..
Well, ALL of us, have been thru such tryin times... Da candy here symbolises all our precious things, be it materialistic ones, or da bonds dat we share wid our near n dear ones.. Losses r a part n parcel of our lives. As a matter of fact, they play da most integral role in our life.. They also elucidate, in life, wen we need 2 hold on n we should let go.. Dey have da power 2 change our perspective 2wards life...
Accordin 2 me, Losses always come wid a lesson. Wen it comes 2 dealin wid loss, I have outgrown out of da A n B option dat seem ridiculous at dis age.. Da reaction woul be a blend of da options dat follow.. Cannot zero in on one.. I see dat both dese stages r essential, even wid one notwithstanding, da whole purpose of inducin da LOSS in2 ur life is lost... When comin in terms wid da loss, its a gradual progression 4m stage C to D.. Dis transition has 2 b a smooth one, widout entanglement of da stages or dominance of ne1... Even wen i say da blend should b proportionate, widout any bias towards a particular stage, I feel da latter stage is of supreme significance, its da learnin n outgrowin phase in our life...

Out of concussion.. Waking up to BMM

The cloud of uncertainty still looms large over my head. Pending decisions swampin my mind wid umpteen thoughts.. Its a deluge out dere... Destined 2 b an engineer????... Da very prospect of returnin to dat dingy place, leaves me numb.... Cause deres nothin 2 look forward 2.. Deres a mundane lifestyle wid staid minds encirclin me....... Da virtues dat i have been improvising upon would take a huge setback... My linguistics of English would go in 4 a toss.... Dis drop has fostered my creativity, vocabulary, communication skills to a large extent....
The sole purpose of education is 2 stimulate da creativity n passion in our adolescent minds. It should arouse our curiosity 2wards learning our subjects of interests meticulously widout ne compulsion.. Da only driving force must be da desire to excel n flourish in our field of interest... Only den our efforts would yield desired results... Imposing Education is equivalent to Self Infliction... Worst its like smotherin, suppressin ur passion towards ur genuine interests....
ITS AN ABOMINABLE CRIME... N da repercussions would be years of rue n discontent... Each day has been a struggle 4 me, a fight within my conscience, a recurrin qualm.... Being indecisive might be fodder 4 thought.. But for me, dese thoughts have been juz like rockin chair they led nowhere... Could not be riveted in any activity... Cause on a subconscious level, most of da times, would b mullin over my indecision.. To free my mind of dis clutter, i had 2 come out wid a decision... N I have made up my mind dat i wanna pursue a degree in BMM... Da very thought of enterin BMM reinstates my selfconfidence..... Dis would b da time wen i met intellects, creative, ingenious minds wid similiar interests..... Its innumerable possibilities dat gets me drifted 2wards dis field... Da virtues instilled in me would help me savour my dreams... Brainstormin sessions, sleepless nites, busy schedules... NO MORE CLASSROOM BOREDOM.... Would spruce up wid every single experience..
Most of my decision have been at the spur of da moment.. Enterin engg. was an impulsive one as well.... Neva questioned my capabilities, If i was up 4 dis challenge... If i have a chance to rite my wrongs dis is da only opportunity... Cause in life, Many things will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart.. U pursue those... N wen i delve within my heart, i see where my passion lies, it flows thru every word dat i speak or write.. Its dis ceaseless passion which shall see me evolve in dis creative field... Da only regret is dat i realised my genuine interest after a stint of 3 years in engg.. Even dat would wash off if i prosper in dis stream... As i write dis, i m oblivious abt how my career would shape up after my BMM degree.. But One thing dat i can assert is Engg. is juz not my forte... Because each time i try n concentrate in2 dis tedious syllabus, would b grumblin, fantasizing or reminscin most of da times... At dis point, i do wanna start nurturing a dream n toil towards it... Dat would only begin wid engg. out of my life....

Trip down da memory lane

OM NAMAH SHIVAY
Startin wid dese 3 words...... Hopin dat this hobby would soon turn in2 my passion n continue till eternity.....
I m Justin..... New 2 da bloggin world....... I hail from western suburbs belongin 2 a Upper middle class family...... Got 2
siblings both of dem r elder 2 me..... Me da most pampered one :)..... So basically we a family of 5... Juz like most teenagers out dere from da indecisive, confused lot.. ;) But deres sumthin dat seperates 4m dis lot.......Its da power of introspection.... Neva eva had a dull moment in dese teenages....Even on da most gloomy day my minds bustling wid thoughts.... Dis thoughts confine around my social relationships, fantasies... Or would juz b reminiscin da jubilant times spent wid people who matter to me da most...... I hav come under a lot of flak due to my sloppy, disorganised lifestyle.... My family thinks i m slack n a sluggard.... Most of da household chores assigned 2 me r often neglected, or done after constant reminders..... I feel its because i m in pensive mood most of da lonely times.... Wont even call myself lonely.. Cause even during dese times i will b tellin myself sumthin or da other..... Would strike up an interestin conversation wid my conscious, justifyin all my acts..... Dese r da most dominant thoughts in my mind...... I m fond of writin memoir, pennin down a passin thought..... Dis is one of da major reason dat i hav embarked dis hobby of bloggin n i definitely wanna nurture it..... At dis point wen i take a trip down da memory lane, i realise dat i hav evolved, outgrown out of my fantasies n been an active player on da grand stage of my life..... Da journey from being demure 2 an out n out extrovert has been one hell of a ride...... :) Would like 2 share my old thoughts dat i had penned down during my 2nd yr of engg...My exam was juz a week away.. N i was ill prepared like our very own MUMBAI POLICE... Dose were da most distressin days of my life...Was in debacle at dat moment...... I remember after writin it i felt a sense of liberation.. Da angst inside me mellowed down.... Heres da entire masterpiece unedited,uncensored in its pristine form... ;)
I m schizophrenic... Yeah dats rite... I live in this fantasy world of mine.. Even in da darkest phase of my life i can live on thrivin on da happiness n feel good factor within my fantasy world. Well sometimes i do feel these fantasies should turn 2 reality.... Unless they do, I cant focus on my academics. Well, I have put in minutes, hours, months plannin out all da possibilitiesto convert these fantasies in2 reality. Haven't really accomplished anything as yet...... But still da plannin neva stops... Its only at dis point of time, i realise there is only one thing that can really pull me out of dis fantasy world, its "LOVE".. Till dis date, i never realised wot LOVE meant.... For me it was juz splurgin money n makin love(Gonna abstain from makin dis blog obscene :)).. I might have had my shared bit of fun n frolic... But at dis point of time I really do not have any happy memories.. I keep reminiscin my higher secondary school days i.e. wen i'm out of my fantasy world.. Even dose memories r faint.... Cant remember nethin beyond my 1st crush.... I m still 2 get a 1st hand feel of this real world.. The further i push myself away 4m makin a move in my love life, the deeper i m being pushed in2 my fantasy world.. I dread losin out touch n feel of dis real world n continue livin wid my fantasies till eternity...... Signin off.....
Now 4 some clarification..... I wanna assert dat i m still single n a virgin... Juz 4 da record.. ;)