Some Luck Some Chance....

Yesterday was when the squall of the midsems got over. Needless to say all that fist pumping at the start of the sem to finally get my act together and climb up the ghissue ladder, went down the toilet and I ended up coming up with one or two funny quotes to scribble on the desk during the middle of the exam. That notwithstanding, yesterday also happened to the day people are supposed to show some love. As Triple H so candidly puts it, “All sorts of arbit people are committed man!”

Ofcourse, Triple H’s credibility is at stake here because he hardly talks about anyone else than a particular member of the female community. But for once, I do agree with him. (To Triple H: Don’t feel bad, I still with all my sadism intact will listen to your lame stories!) Okay back to the topic, a trip to Dehradun was put off and a trio consisting of yours truly, Sweaty Teddy and the Mallu Tanker ended up having some high fun by the canal.

Some serious chit-chat later about committed people missing out on a lot, the so often abused "system" and committed people really missing out on a lot, the latter two went to their own parivaar for some management and I decided to go Dela’s room for getting some sort of entertainment.

After our hearts fell when we came to know we couldn’t watch MTV Roadies with the matkas, we decided to catch a flick. That flick turned out to be “Luck by Chance”.

Now, I seriously think Zoya Akhtar got the spelling wrong, mixing up the “F” that ought to be there with “L”. That, atleast would have given the movie a catchy title. I sometimes really feel that the bad movies, I mean the real bad ones are underappreciated. How can anyone know what’s good until they have watched a “Rock On!” (Wass’ Going On?) or a “A walk (definitely not) to Remember”. This movie is also one of those.

The man of the moment, Farhan “profound dialogies” Akhtar delivers a sterling performance as an actor who cannot act. On second thoughts, this might as well have been a biopic. Farhan “profound dialogues” Akhtar is an actor who cannot act. Like was pointed out, he was outdone in Rock On by sheer class that was Luke Kenny. (Jiska tumour uske dimaag ka hissa ban chuka hai!). The sole good looking point (apart from the fact that Farhan Akhtar would make for a very good piece of furniture in my future household), is the smok-wait for it-ing hot Isha Sharwani. With the catch being that she is shown to fall for stupid lines like, “Is kamre mein saare kapde mere hain siwaaye unke jo tumne pehen rakhein hain!”

Anywhoo, with that movie out of my system, I watched Barca uncharasterically faltering against Betis. They are a joy to watch when on song, but I do feel give them a tactical English opposition and they will fall like (hmmm…look at that) Luke Kenny when his tumour/brain explodes. Some perverted fun with Triple H later and then with a long bakar session well into the early morning, I finally called the curtains on the day at a bright time of 8 A.M.

Merry St. Valentine’s Day everyone!

Going, Going, Gone.

My biological clock has turned upside down since the past few days. Not something new in budding “engineers” I know, but one cannot fail to notice what a silent night (like the current one) and some memoirs can do to a person who most people would think of as having a sentimental range of a cockroach.

Today’s afternoon brought with it some excessive free time, which was ideally (and idly) whiled away at our very own Central Perk. Discussions on 'the hottest girl', The White Tiger, 'that random good looking girl on the road', insti took away the time when yours truly was summoned for some more fruitful activity.

Cut to the chase. My insti is something I am extremely proud of. Whether the reverse is true, I wouldn’t know but see, even Darth K9 who called the place a "shityard" at every given opportunity is feeling “Kabhie Khushi Kabhi Gham” when it comes to bidding adieu. I particularly remember “falling in love” on that fateful night I had to go the Old Library for some formalities when I saw the lawns bathed in light, the insti clock ticking away (as it has been for the past 160 years). For a first yearite who wouldn’t have taken long to pee in his pants at the very sight of a mean looking senior, you can imagine what the feeling would have been. Harry Potter had received his Nimbus 2000.

That was then. This is now, when this place is a shadow a glorious former self. When we see, some of the oldest parts of the institute demolished for swanky new structure, (A six storey lecture hall complex, for example.), we’re probably the only ones who cringe at this. To bystanders, it might be increasing infrastructure, to me its demolishing heritage. I make no pretences, those shabby one room quarters lined up wouldn’t have served one purpose, but they sure as hell are more to me than that complex would ever be. And that’s, in my own idiosyncrasy, when I have never even set foot inside them.

Of course, I don’t blame the administration for all this. To quote a famous cliché: “Its all politics.” Or to quote Loha, the movie: “Kauwe ne liya cheel ka chumma aur cheel ne paida kiya chuhe ka baccha!”

*Analogies as you see fit.

Anyways, in whatever humble way is possible for me, I say “Goodnight!” to “those one roomed structures behind the new library!”

P.S.: I’m not drunk.

P.P.S.: Really. You’re gonna have to trust me.