Archive for June, 2012

What’s new?

Posted: June 21, 2012 by Ankur in Daily Quotes
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You know you are a LOSER when….

the only thing happening in your life..

is an Earthquake..

that too a million miles away 😛

Sanhita Baruah

Assam Engineering College


The Treasure Guards

Posted: June 21, 2012 by Ankur in Writes...

Disclaimer: The concerned article is based on a true incident and all resemblances are completely intentional.

We all grew up listening to various tales about expeditions to unearth hidden treasures. The brave treasure-hunters had to cross daunting seas, fend off hideous monsters and make a lot of sacrifices just to get to the treasure trove. But in order to attain it, they had to face their wildest nightmare- the treasure guards. They were a group of fierce and brutal warriors whose only purpose was to prevent the treasure from falling into the wrong hands. Absolutely dedicated to their cause, they would readily give up their lives to protect the treasure.

No, I’m definitely not going to tell you another boring “once upon a time” fable. As the times have evolved, our perception of treasure in modern times has certainly become less glamorous. The fierce guardians have become non-existent. But we actually encounter treasure chests and the guards on a daily basis- we just don’t notice- or rather- the lack of grandeur blinds us. 

It was 4 pm on a fine Thursday when I left home. I had promised my cousin that I would pick him up from school at sharp 3:30 and take him to his favourite ice cream parlour. The first installment of my internship salary had been credited and I had been blackmailed by mom to donate the first 100 rupees as an offering in the nearby temple. I rushed to the ATM to take out cash and as I swung open the door, it hit the security guard. I mumbled a half-hearted apology, withdrew the amount and came out. As I was about to get on my bike, I noticed the blank expression on his face. I don’t know what prompted me but I dismounted, went to him and asked “I am very sorry sir, Did it hurt?”

His reaction shocked me. He hugged me and started sobbing uncontrollably. After somehow managing to soothe and pry him away, I had a good look at him. His face was criss-crossed with wrinkles making him look terribly old. His frame was terribly lean, as though desperately needing a support. His uniform was dirty and he badly needed a clean-up. 

I proceeded to ask him the reason for his tears. He replied, “So many people hit me accidentally and pass, many say sorry and pass by, it’s the first time that someone has gotten out of his vehicle to apologise to me. I’m just used to being snubbed and ignored by people who come here.” 

“Why are you working even though you are so old?” was my shameless remark. He looked at me firmly in the eye and said, “I need to survive, son. I have a crippled daughter to look after. I used to be a driver but now my eyes are failing me and my reflexes are not so sharp. What other job will I get at this age?” 

I probed further, “Who looks after your daughter when you are away?” The guard could hardly believe that I was taking so much interest in his case and meekly replied, “My last employers gifted her a wheelchair when I left them. She has learned to manage herself. But still I have to work 18 hrs a day, and God looks after her then.”

I unknowingly took out the first 100 rupee note from my internship amount- I had promised to make an offering in the temple first before doing anything with the money- and put it into his pocket. He refused to accept it and tried to thrust it back into my hand. I told him categorically that I would not budge from that place till he accepted it. I told him that it was a gift of affection and that I would be severely offended by his refusal.

Noone wins an argument with me. He finally resigned and accepted it. The amount must be more than his wage for the day.”I have guarded this treasure chest day and night for so many months, yet I have never got a single note from this. God bless you, I will buy a chocolate for my daughter with this and tell her that I met a gentleman today.” 

None of the lines that I’ve read on economic equality and class struggles by Lenin, Guevara, Marx or Engels came to my mind then. Just the flashing image of my dad who still works post-retirement for the sake of his only son.

I immediately touched the guard’s feet, his efforts to stop me in vain. As I rose, I made mental notes to lie to my mom about having made the offering and to my cousin about the heavy traffic delaying me. And as I walked away, I made sure to hide the tear in my eye from his gaze.

Sree Hari

He was relieved. Glad, even. They were finally going to leave. His mom was finally ready to attend the party, and dad had already been honking for the past five minutes. He’d now have the house to himself, for at least five hours. He had always loved being alone, away from the crowd, and sometimes far, far away from his parents too. He was never too mush of a sportsperson; he preferred activities that stimulated the intellect. While other sixteen year olds would’ve spent such home-alone nights partying with their friends, probably even drinking, Rustom would read, or play his viola (if only he had a penny each time people called it the violin!). He was mature beyond his years (or so, everyone said, but that was possibly because they had never considered the possibility of other sixteen year old not being as mature as they should be!), and a loner. Not surprisingly, he had plenty of friends online. Lonely people make the best chat r oom friends. He was especially excited tonight. He couldn’t wait to check out the newest site he had read about in a journal. It asked you for your hobbies, your likes and dislikes; and connected you to someone with the same interests, and let you both chat. The only condition was that you weren’t allowed to upload your images. And you’d never be connected to the same person again. The site ensured that.

The element of mystery appealed to him, and he felt particularly excited as he put his headphones on. It was a gamble, he thought to himself, and he loved taking chances. He typed in the url, and was very soon filling in his name, and his hobbies- surfing the net, reading, art. That was about it. Oh, and yes, watching movies. He waited with bated breath as the site found him a suitable ‘friend’. He secretly hoped it would be a boy, so that he could have an interesting conversation about fighter planes and Star Wars. What did girls know about such stuff anyways? 

Too bad when within two minutes (thank God it didn’t take longer- he was getting rather impatient!), he heard a slight rustle on his headsets, it was a rather mature sounding female voice (the internet sometimes did that to your voice).

“Hi!” the girl said softly, almost whispering.

“Hello, Rustom here”, he replied quickly.

“Hi Rustom, I’m Alisha.”

“Alisha? That’s a rather pretty name! So tell me Alisha, what do you like doing?” 

“Oh, plenty of things! But I’m not allowed to do most of them! You know, I recently fractured my hip! So I’m confined to the bed, doing nothing much, except surf the net, watch television, and paint a little. Even that has gotten so difficult these days. So I’ve started reading- a lot. I’ve always been a big reader, but now that love has strengthened! And I have my blog. I write in it, a lot”

“Oh, that could get kind of sad, I understand! But if you look at the brighter side, you’d realize that you have plenty of time to spend with your family! How cool is that?” Ha-ha, look who’s talking about family time, thought Rustom! He barely knew his parents. As in, the kind of people they were. He did not know.

Alisha chuckled. But he sensed a tinge of sadness in her laughter and her voice, as she said, “Barely anyone at home has time for me. Nobody like spending quality time with an invalid, you know! The conversations are mainly limited to them ordering me around, telling me what to do and what not to do. Sometimes, to be honest with you, Rustom, I feel like running away from home… to just break free!” 

“Wow!” remarked Rustom to himself. He did feel bad for Alisha, but he was relieved, glad even, that there was at least one more lonely person in the world. He tried to recollect the number of times he himself had contemplated running away from home. “Forget them’, he continued chatting with Alisha, “and tell me what kind of movies do you like to watch? Romcoms?”

“Haha no! I’m sorry, Rustom, I’m more into the “Star Wars” series!”

“Really? It is rather unusual to find a girl who likes “Star Wars”. And what kind of books do you like to read?”

The conversation went on for more than an hour. The spoke about many things- Billy Joel, their painting styles (both of them pursued painting as a hobby, but they both admitted they kind of sucked at it! In fact, his mother had called his latest masterpiece ‘Squiggles’), their mutual dislike of Harry Potter, and their fascination for Frank Sinatra. They had a little quiz in which they asked each other the toughest questions about Sinatra. Alisha won (‘but very narrowly’, Rustom consoled himself). “The most brilliant hour of my life”, Rustom thought to himself later on. 
They then recited dialogues from Star Wars, and they laughed themselves silly as the discussed the antics of Tom and Jerry (you can never be too old for cartoons). He expressed his disappointment in finding out that her favourite cartoon was the Powerpuff Girls simply because it was a display of flower power! They had a very philosophical interaction about the hidden meanings in Lewis Carol’s humorous writings. And they finished off with a debate about whether Macbeth was Shakespeare’s best work, or was it Julius Caesar.

When they had both gone offline, Rustom was a happy young man. He wished the world had more sensible people like Alisha. He also wished that he could talk to her again. But he did not have her phone number. He did not know why he did not ask for it. Neither of them had brought it up, and so neither of them had asked for the other’s contact details. Perhaps this is how it was meant to be. Perhaps if their friendship had gone beyond that day, they’d realize they did not really like each other as much as they thought they did on the first day. Alisha was an extremely wonderful girl, and it was probably best to remember this evening in the sweetest possible way, without further conversation to spoil it. Rustom switched off the lights and went to sleep, hoping to have a memorable dream about his encounter with Alisha.

Miles away, in another continent altogether, Alisha nursed her broken hip. A fracture at the age of fifty three was very difficult to handle. Especially since she had lost her husband, her pillar of strength of thirty years, in the same accident six months back. The mishap had completely broken her, and she thought she’d never be happy again. So she had decided to completely drown her grief in caring for her infant granddaughter- the only beacon of light in her otherwise dark world. She had forgotten how to smile; her tears did not stop flowing.

Until tonight, that is. It seemed like aeons ago that she had seen on her face the creases that accompanied a smile. This ‘’ was an amazing site, and this man Rustom was an absolute sweetheart. How old was he? Forty, forty five? Younger than her for sure, but he had managed to bring back that spark back into her life that had been consumed in the flames that had engulfed her husband’s pyre. Silly, it may sound, but in this one hour she had connected with him in a way she had not connected to in a very long time.

She felt rejuvenated. She thought she’d write about this man in her blog. And title it; ‘!

Arpita Nandi

Amrita School of Engineering, Bangalore

It’s just a matter of perception…

Posted: June 19, 2012 by Ankur in Daily Quotes
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The color RED-
a Pessimist sees it as a sign of Danger
an Optimist sees it as a sign of Love
a Realist sees it as just another color 😛
choose your own perception 🙂

Sanhita Baruah

Assam Engineering College


Posted: June 19, 2012 by Ankur in Writes...
Tags: , , , ,

Sometimes you have no control over where you end. Destiny, fate and the other know it alls always interfere. Yes, I used to be the master of my own future. But now that the end is here I would like to blame any one but myself.

I can’t blame her though. How could I? Her actions aren’t the product of her choices, or maybe they are. He was her choice, wasn’t he? But can you define the matters of the heart as mere choice? Irrespective, I choose to blame Him.

Trust. Such a horrid word. Such a disastrous emotion. Nothing good has ever come from it. Look where it brought me, on the floor helpless and in pieces. I would have survived if it weren’t for him. I wouldn’t be explaining my abrupt departure from this world if it weren’t for her choices. If it weren’t for him, if it weren’t for trust.

He wanted a rendezvous. A quick do where everything was fun, games, hearts and rainbows. She wanted a future. A steady ship they could sail together. Not unicorns and pots of gold but a beautiful cottage with a wide porch, a swing set and a white picket fence.

Me? I wanted nothing. I don’t think it’s my place to have anything to do with it either. I just watched silently. Pretty sure my opinion wouldn’t count. But anyone who watched them would have sensed that this was how it would end. She would stay up and watch him sleep; he wouldn’t even close his eyes when they kissed.

So it wasn’t a surprise when he left. Leaving her and her white picket fence fantasies to themselves. She should have ideally been strong. Gotten over it and moved on. But when have humans ever been known to do the right thing? It was only natural. Normal. Obvious for her to completely lose control.

The endless tears, the large tubs of chocolate chip ice cream, the mood swings, the choice to avoid the world, the denial to accept reality and the random mindless ramblings. But this is never expected. I was glad she was quenching her thirst, but why put the blame on me for what her choices did to her? Why look at me like I’m the genius that invented heart breaks?

I hate the way she stared at me with accusatory eyes. “Always half empty”, she said. “Always half empty”, she repeated. “Never half full, always half empty”. And she hurled me across the room.

Slamming against the wall and crashing to the ground in pieces. That’s how my story ends. I lie shattered, damaged beyond repair. A broken glass. My story ends here as I watch her crumble…

Neha khandelwal

They were the perfect couple. They were both incredibly good looking, popular, excelled at their respective areas of interest, and were nominated for the ‘best outgoing students’ in school. All the other students envied them.

Jay was the captain of the school basketball team. And under his leadership, we never needed to worry. We would win every match we played. Always. And every time that happened, her face glowed with a pride we doubted even his mother felt. She was happier than him, and she felt a deep satisfaction. After all, all those ballet classes she had skipped, just to cheer him while he practised, had not gone in vain.

As the mentor of the school ballet group, I was not too worried about her missing so many classes. She always caught up, and within minutes, she used to be ready to dance with the rest of the class. She was the apple of my eyes. Mona always did me proud. Every time she performed, I’d feel like the most blessed guide ever. The grace with which she danced, coupled with her devotion and passion for ballet easily made her the star of my group. To be the world’s best ballerina had been her girlhood dream, and she worked hard to make it big in the world of dance. She told me she’d make the world sit up and take notice of her one day. That day was not too far away, as she began to be admired wherever she went. Her moment of glory came when she was crowned Ballet queen of the State early last year. Her fan following kept increasing by the day. I doubt it was just to do with her dance. She was beautiful, inside and outside!

We were both excited. The day we waited for all year long was finally approaching. The Annual Students’ Day in school was jus three months away. Our school achievers would be recognized that day, and there was going to be a variety of programmes organised by our students. The highlight of this day, for the past four years had been the ballet performance.As usual, Mona was chosen to be the lead dancer.

She put in her heart and soul into it, and practised for three hours everyday after school. Yet she found a couple of minutes every hour while everybody took their break, to run to the court, where Jay practised his game. But one day, about a month before the D-Day, she did not return. We waited for her for a long time, and then, when she did not turn up, we decided to carry on the day’s practice without her. We wound up around an hour later.

The next morning, I spotted her in the corridor, looking like I had never imagined her. Her beautiful, long hair was spilling from the braid she always wore; and the kohl with which she lined her doe eyes was missing. She looked distraught and impatient. I began to worry. An optimist like her needed a really serious reason to be depressed. I’d surely talk to her at practice today. If she came.

I thanked God as I saw her entering practice room that evening. But as she came closer, I sensed fear, desperation, and guilt in her swollen eyes. She had been crying. But I was not surprised. She’d had an argument with Jay during lunch, and very soon, the whole school knew about it. In fact, I was surprised at the composure with which she presented herself.

“You okay?” I asked her as she took a seat beside me. I looked at her. She had not yet changed into her ballet costume; neither did she look like she had brought her shoes along.

“I’m quitting”, she told blankly, to nobody in particular. I almost fell off my chair! Mona was not a quitter, and I knew she’d do anything for ballet. What then, could have happened, to force her to take such a drastic step?
“You wanna tell me what’s bothering you?”I asked her gently.

Unmoved, she told me Jay did not like the fact that she was not around to cheer him these days. “I’m his source of strength,” she said with a glimmer of pride not enough; however, to overshadow the pain she was going through. “He calls me his number one fan, and he needs me now. I need to stand by him if he’s gonna make it to the state team right? That’s been his dream since like forever!”

I was aghast. An independent girl like Mona was surely not saying this? “And what about you? Aren’t you the most talented ballerina in the state? Hasn’t it also been your dream to be this acclaimed ballerina? What about that? Are you willing to give up on your dreams in order to see his dreams come true?”

“Yes. Love overrides everything, mentor! Besides, I enjoy cheering for him. It’s a great feeling when you get to be your boyfriend’s number one fan! His games… they fill me with pride. You’d know if you saw him play one day. He’s a star. I see him play everyday! In fact, l’m going in ten minutes, as soon as I’m done talking to you.”

“And has he seen you dance, Mona? Even once?” I asked, feeling angry and sympathetic at once. “Does he know what a big star you are?”

Mona’s head hung low as she realized that it was not me, but herself that she tried to convince. She knew she was kidding nobody but herself when she said she was giving up on ballet out of her own will. Her teary eyes stood testimony to that.

“You should know that if you’re giving up on ballet, you have no rights to own the “Ballet Queen” crown anymore. It belongs to someone who’d never quit. Real love doesn’t pull one down, Mona. No one ever ‘falls’ in love. One should rise in love. If Jay ever loved you, he’d see what ballet means to you; and just like you want him to be a basketball champ, he’d want you to make a name for yourself. Somebody who really loves you will love what you love. Really Mona, the rate at which you give up ballet for him and still shine, he ought to be your number one fan.”

Mona listened to me wordlessly. The she stood up and left the room. A sense of loss enveloped me as I realized that my words had no impact whatsoever on her. I started wondering who’d be replacing her as the lead. I had almost made my choice when the door creaked. I saw Mona enter, dressed as a ballerina, all set to dance. “ So, let’s start?” she asked with a smile. Returning that radiant smile, I asked, “Does Jay know you’re here? Will he be waiting for you?” And I knew I had made a difference as I heard her say, “Today, basketball can wait. It’s time Jay started practicing on his own!I’m lagging behind on my ballet practice! ”

Arpita Nandi

Amrita School of Engineering, Bangalore


Posted: June 17, 2012 by Ankur in Daily Quotes
Tags: , , , , , ,

Whenever you are dismayed by the darkness around you, always remember- wherever there is a dark shadow, it’s actually a bright light somewhere which created it. 🙂 🙂

Sanhita Baruah

Assam Engineering College


Posted: June 17, 2012 by Ankur in Writes...
Tags: ,

“You are IMPOSSIBLE! I can’t believe you had that picture of me. I am never talking to you again. You’ll cry. I’m off now…” She came back home, walked towards the room, and banged the door after a conflict with someone thus ending the conversation by using the above mentioned sentences…

  • The most common five letter word we come across in our everyday lives…
  • There are stranger-sorrys , impulsive-sorrys , heck-of-it-sorrys , heartfelt-sorrys… . .
  • Every human has their own VERSION of sorry.
  • Mostly people sabotage their sorry by using it as an excuse.. I being a human (yes definitely) have used varied sorrys in my 15 year old life. Someone taught me forgiveness is the sly silent revenge a person can take. I couldn’t contradict to this statement. I never have and probably never will. Where forgiveness was considered to be an act of humbleness , now we see little kiddos talking about heavy term like revenge! (BADLA is what we call it in Hindi).

She sat down. Plugged in the music and switched to the same song she listens to when she feels the emptiness. Door still locked.

“No matter the distance i want you to know that deep down inside of me

You are my fire ,My one desire. Believe when i say that i want it that way”

With those rare pearl-like tears brimming down her eyes,

She puts the ipod away and buries her face in her arms.

She did what she rarely does. She cried. And cried hard.”

Communication with one’s own self is fruitful.The word sorry literally means expressing sympathy, pity or regret. My grandma taught me ,”Wiser is the one who puts down a fight. Always be that sheep who bends to let the other-raging one go but never forget your dignity.”

Dignity often is misunderstood and used as ego. Ego is the only bridge between The act and the following sorry. And crossing this bridge is the hardest job often considered to be LETHAL by individuals. In clear words Ego and Self Esteem are poles apart.

She grabs the mobile phone. Looks at it. Hurries through the contact list hence missing the ‘name’. Finds the name. “Why am i calling? It definitely is NOT my fault.”Her inner voice says “Why not?”. 

“Can’t he-who-shall-not-be-named call?” The two questions raised and dropped like a stock market graph inside her head. With two inner souls battling, all baffled and heavy, she never made the call. 

Sorry is a word accompanied with feelings. So please never say until you mean it. Comforted lies, later , hurt more than pinching truths. Time is greedy. It’ll try to take away the happiness you possess. So say sorry rather than later repenting.

Two months have passed. She doesn’t remember the day until today, She received a call. “He is no more.” She lays there awestruck and tracks the set of events. Realizing that not saying a five letter word cost her someones life she does nothing but REPENT. . .Quiet is peace. Tranquility. Quiet is turning down the volume knob on life. Silence is pushing the off button. Shutting it down. All of it.(KITE RUNNER) Out of nowhere her mind flashes a phrase she read,

‘It always hurts more to have and lose than to not have in the first place . . .’

I am sorry mate. I really am. Wherever you are, i need you to see this phrase. And gaze at it, digest it, welcome it with open arms, for i have realized it. The fault wasn’t mine. It surely is mine now. May you rest in peace. 

It didn’t make anything alright. Probably will never make anything alright but just like changing seasons, everything will be alright 🙂

“Life goes on, unmindful of beginning, end…crisis or catharsis, moving forward like a slow, dusty caravan of kochis (nomads).” 

Anushka Anand


Posted: June 16, 2012 by Ankur in Writes...
Tags: , ,

Today corruption has become a fashion,
Majority do it to fulfill their passion.
Following it may give us satisfaction,
But it’s a terrible action…

If you want notes,
Just throw notes.
If you want admission,
Don’t worry , there is donation…

If you break a law,
In it there is no flaw.
Just shut the mouth of the authorities,
With loads of rupees…

If you want to increase your business production,
Then for you there is black marketing, hoarding and adulteration.
If you are not fit to sit in competitive examination,
Oh ! you need not to cry, there is reservation…

To earn profit , you may add pesticides in your drink,
About the health of public you do not think.
In return , they give you praise,
What a disgrace !

The list of corruption is endless ,
Seriously we have become too heartless.
Honesty is loosing it’s foundation ,
Because the building of corruption has been successful in construction…

Corruption deters our motherland ‘ s growth ,
So it should be tackled with an attitude of loath.
Before India becomes no. 1 in the arena of corruption ,
Friends we ‘ll have to find ways for it’ s eradication…

Nabila Khan

Peoples Dental Academy

On versatility

Posted: June 15, 2012 by sarupbanskota in Writes...

Versatility is the core essence of happiness and surprise. People, personalities, characters differ from time to time and place to place. It is not merely a chemical formula v1 n1 = v2 n2 or a math theorem like Stoke’s to follow a set rigid pattern.

The real pleasure of the heart is unlocked when we meet personalities of different types. But it is my foremost duty to warn u that there are some pricking thorns among the blossoming roses. People of today’ fashions are losing the true ability of identifying the goodness in people or maybe due to the attitude of “whatever”.

Often we do fall into devil’ trap and taste the unpleasant venom. The reason being damn simple. People are not always the same. Every person on this earth has his own ground and his own rules. It is simply that our mind weighs every person by one’ bad actions and for some damn crooked reason not the good ones. Expecting a person to be perfect is not what one has to learn, but accepting one’ deeds and seasoning ourselves to rugged conditions, so that the word ‘perfect’ becomes meaningless. Starting to realize reality is always the wiser path for us to choose and walk.

Lakshmi Priyanka Selvaraj

Amrita University.