The past one week has been one hell of a ride. As it comes to an end tonight I am left with memories. Memories that I won’t cherish for the rest of my life. And then there are some that I would. The Diwali break was important as it was the last one week of holidays I could spend at home before the monster month of semester examination appeared.
Last Friday I came back home on a CTU (Chandigarh Transport Undertaking) bus along with my roomie Ankur. The ride was pretty smooth as it was way past midnight. It was only at the Delhi bypass where a load of bhaiyas got on the bus. It seemed like they were trying to rob the passengers, the way they boarded the bus. Anyways they went to sleep in a couple of minutes and hence no spitting pan, fowl language or other trademark bhaiyas stuff.
Continue reading ‘Gravity!’
Being in the final year of your graduation can be really frustrating. Your mind is stuffed with all sorts of things that increase your blood pressure to the top. On top of it if you have your parents pushing you into a marriage, you’re in for trouble big time baby! Now I agree most of the times this is the case with the chicks around, all that parents pushing in an early marriage stuff. In my case, or I must say, poor Zoravar’s case it’s the opposite. My parents are keen on getting me ‘at least engaged’ to some chick I don’t know, chick I have never met or seen or even talked to.
I have always voted for staying single in my entire life. Not that I was one of those ugly ducklings at school or college. I have known people who were and who are into relationships. Trust me dude, you don’t wanna be in any of those. Chicks dig the crap out of a guy. They will make you do things you just dont want to. They will call you at the wrong times. They will ask you for those more-than-just-favor things. They will track you down wherever you go. They will ask you all those stupuid WH questions. They will take total control over you.
Ahhh! I need to clear some air with my parents. They just can’t get a poor kid married to some chick like that. But first I need to ask them if she’s really hot! How do I do that?! Any ideas?!
I don’t care if they shoot me down after this. I don’t care if the Government bans me from writing on public blogs. I don’t care if you guys reading this verbally abuse me. I don’t care if I am banned from my nationality. For the millionth time I just wanna tell the world that I am not proud to be an Indian.
I am no different. I am not out of my mind. I’m just like each one of the billion people who call themselves Indians. The same people who abuse the country, it’s politicians, corruption etc. countless times during the day and once an year they chant, ‘Vande Mataram’.
I am no different. I am a part of the lakhs of students in the country. The same set of students who work very hard in studies just to sit for an exam that could be their ticket out of the country. These same set of students feel for India. These are the same students who go sentimental after watching Rang De Basanti. These are the same students who then forget all morals and commit crime. These are the same students who work at top notch MNCs, buy from International brands, eat at Mc Donalds. And they still say, ‘Mera Bharat Mahaan’.
I am no different. I hate it all. I don’t pretend that I like the nation, like you. I hate the national anthem being played at movie theaters. I hate the roads filled with dirty water. I hate the filthy politicians. I hate our so called system.
I hate it. I hate it.
While at Delhi I had the opinion that it was the auto-rikshaws there which were like little monsters on three wheels. And then I moved to Faridabad and my opinion crashed like a typical Microsoft Operating system does. A ride on one of these auto-rikshaws in Faridabad is a ride through hell. If you think the ones in Delhi were unsafe and rash, you haven’t been on something like this in Faridabad. Let me explain the whole ride.
The first part is the most difficult one. Trying to convince an auto-rikshaw driver to take you to your destination is harder than convincing your girlfriend. You can either give out a lot of smiling Gandhis to these guys or you take the cheaper option of sharing the ride with others. You’re screwed either way.
The ride begins once there are more people sitting than the auto-rikshaw can actually accommodate. Picture this. There are two people on the left side of the driver and two on the right. That’s five on a seat which is supposed to be for one guy. The driver is sandwiched between these passengers and just manages to steer through the insane city traffic. Behind the cockpit, the scene isn’t any better. While three people are sitting on the seats, three more are sitting opposite to them. No not on any cushion but on hard steel. Yes it’s painful and cruel to the poor asses. Everyone sitting inside stinks. And they really stink badly. At first you wonder it’s coming from the outside and then you take a look at the guy next to you. His face is self explanatory. His expressions go like, “Yes dude, that’s me. I stink”.
Continue reading ‘Hell on Earth: Riding an Auto-rickshaw!’
++ The landlord is your lord. You must obey each and every command for you are his slave for the rest of eternity.
++ You can’t wash clothes with the same soap you use for taking a bath. Yeah you probably knew this already. You can’t use it to wash utensils either!
++ You’ll need cash so desperately only when you don’t have it!
++ You can’t find small little things in the local market. There’s always another grand place where you need to go to buy these things. In my case it’s Old Faridabad.
++ Food from the local tiffin-wallah tastes like shit when you are really hungry and look forward to a nice meal at the end of the day.
++ Being lazy doesn’t work anymore. You must wash those dirty clothes or else they start smelling like crap when they stack up.
++ Cable TV is a luxury you can afford but your wallet doesn’t agree.
++ Getting a broadband connection installed is like taking a trip to Mars.
++ It will only rain when you’re supposed to attend an important lecture in the morning.
++ Don’t expect people to be co-operative. Especially neighbours. In Faridabad they feel sharing a junction box is like sharing a DSL broadband connection.
Continue reading ‘What living away from home teaches you!’
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