Once upon a time perhaps.....

There are people you despise, people you take an indifferent view on and to go over the top, some you worship. Sir Alex Chapman Ferguson falls in the lattermost category.

Much has been said about his completing 50 years in the world of the beautiful game and although I refrain from writing on topics which are a hot ongoing commodity (the reason being that my opinions aren’t what exactly one might call inspiring or thought changing), this is one epiphany which was simply too heavy to let in. Like any resident of The Republic Of Mancunia will tell you, there is God then there is Sir Alex and then there is THE club (in increasing order mind you!), I too am one of those who take more pride in the manager himself rather than the results he churns out week in week out.  As long as Fergie is there, we don’t want anything else.

Matty Boy once asked me how can anyone feel so strongly for a team that plays thousands of miles from you and with which you don’t have any link. Ferguson is the reason. Once you are old enough to think for yourself and try to differentiate awesome from the not-so-awesome, the whole “distance” thing goes out of the window. The reason perhaps  Martin Luther King was inspired by Gandhi or to quote V himself, “You can kill as many people as you want, but you cannot kill an idea.”

Having promised Bihari Potter and Triple H a blog on the rise of lovebirds in R-land, why did I suddenly change my mind? Don’t know, don’t bother! Afterall there aren’t many people who will tell the whole world in extreme expletives that they are wrong and still emerge more loveable than ever. If you want facts on the guy, google him up, wiki him up. I only wrote this short blog to get it out of my system that the first person I ever paid a writing tribute to was the person who (if there ever was one) took the Bro Code seriously!

P.S.: Before a Devils-Scousers clash there was a scouse priest on the telly claiming that he, along with his congregation, had been praying for a result. United won the game regardless and the priest was back on the news after the weekend. The priest was asked whether this proved God doesn’t exist. The priest was quite defiant in his answer. “No, it proves God does exist… but He’s a United fan.”

Time of your life!

Two and a half years living in a hostel and you realise that “Survival is the most basic instinct” is an axiom. So on one hand where people tell you that you study in one of the most elite colleges of the country and hence the civic manners ought to be prevelant, the reality couldn’t be further away from this.

Wingmanned by the Bulk himself,who “Foods up!” the Barney Stinson way and whom calling a food connoisseur would be the understatement of the still pretty young century, I managed to put together a how-to list of seven points that will get you through any buffet stomach filled and with a smug look guaranteed to make your fellow buffeteers, if you will, jealous. Here is your guide to fooding bliss:

1) Popularity quotient: Make sure the buffet you are going to contains a sizeable portion of participants you know. The level of knowledge or acquaintance doesn’t matter. And if you don’t well your chances of attaining the aforementioned nirvana are greatly reduced.

2) Be Ruthless: Remember “Survival is the most basic instinct”, so get to the food as soon as it arrives. There should not be any scope for feelings towards other competitors. Everyone is the ENEMY!

3) Be Conniving: Now here starts the intelligent part, you should always have that cuisine which the others aren’t attacking. Okay you might first think that you would be compromising on some gastronomical delight, but the sheer fact you “GOT SOME!” rather than watching someone else eat while you fill your stomach with water from your own mouth should be compensation enough.

4) Put your plate down: Trust me on this one! Even if you don’t have your own plate, you can go back to your home, nay, room, more satisfied than your plated counterparts. Once you have put your plate down, you have both hands free,ergo, greater mobility over the plate. All you have to do is use point (1) to your advantage, start a small talk and then schemishly devour your so called friend’s plate!

5) Make them believe you: “There is no such thing as a free buffet” goes the oft quoted saying. Sadly though what the people don’t realise here is that the meaning between the line, quoted by none other than Phoebe Buffet, is that you have to work to get the food. Keep going regularly to the “serving” counter to get the supply to other’s plates. Your plateless hands will again put you at an advantage over other tied and hungry. The second advantage, and this is where it gets doubly good, is that your hunted i.e. the one who you are eating off, falls to your Machiavellian skills and infact starts thinking, yours is a symbiotic relationship. (Well, you could say not everyone has the privilege of reading my blog!)

6) Be agile and quick witted: Point (5) has to be put into use with an intelligent combination of point (1). Shuttling between the people can be done on the pretext of “having some work with them” or “great he has _________(delicacy that everybody is after), I’ll get you some”. Be subtle, never hurt their feelings, they might be needed at a later stage.

7) The Exit Strategy: When you are all fed and satisfied, make sure your exit doesn’t attract a lot of attention. Saying sayonara can be extremely energy consuming thereby making you feel full-stomached for a lesser period of time.

Needless to say, the above reading is of no use if you don’t put it into practice regularly and extremely thoroughly. Wedding season being around the corner, that should provide you the ideal platform from which to launch your staunch campaign. So best of luck!

Beware:

· Applicable only to those who have had cannibalistic fantasies

· Any deaths resulting from the mentioned technique will not be the responsibility of the author.

The Perverted Times

Well she looked at me (or so thought me)
and I, I could see 
That before too long 
I'd fall in love with her (or the one standing next to her) 
She wouldn't dance with another (and definitely not with Bihari Potter)
Oh, when I saw her standing there ……..

People actually looking in the mirror while combing, some skirty creatures whose faces you can’t remember because you never even bothered to see them and an optimism that is quite rare in the otherwise bleak R-land. That’s right, it is the insti’s “cultural fest”. 

The Sulk entered one of his sulkier modes and profoundly said, “This is one time of the year when I hate being a geek!” to which yours truly replied a not so profound, “I don’t know whether I am a geek!” to be hit back by nothing but a vehement confirmation. Point settled.

Now The Morons have members most of whose quanta of guts runs into negatives. (Myself, of course being the exception that in fact goes onto prove the rule. (Coxx is CLASS!)) So our idea of fun bordering on dangerous proportions was “relative grading” and even then you have people like Padhy who say they are doing this for the first time.(Hallowed be his name!!) The reptile tried to hit it off with one of his ex-schoolmates (or so he thought) until his guts came to the fore, Jugga-man tried to help him nearly resulting in the Reptile wetting himself with embarrassment. Another character informed me I was in someone’s “good books”, strike that, let her just be the maiden bowled over. (Can I get an Amen!), only to be met by rivalry from none other than Bihari Potter himself. Issue amicably resolved finally when we realised we were up against something (or rather someone) with definitely atleast double our muscle weight.

Meesa then let my hair down at the dance floor resulting in The Reptile, Jugga and the Divine Lady getting drenched in my sweat. If the Reptile is reading this, I would like to put the point across that, ah I will be blunt, he is pathetic (and not even in the funny sort of the way). Such is the gutless nature of the Morons that The Bulk, The Sulk, Bihari Potter, Padhy actually didn’t even approach the dance floor. (There was candy everywhere! Stupid people!)

The debate competition provided fun with every Tom, Dick, Harry, Sita, Gita, Rita coming to express his/her opinion. Okay but in hindsight it was as the Bihari Potter put it, “Aaj to dekha aur kya dekha! Koi kuch keh bhi nahin sakta.” (We were the judges if anyne still hasn’t fathomed it out.)

Now, here comes the real fun part. Meesa had to go to Delhi to escort The Doctor. Accompanying me on my way there was none other than (as I had later found out) the most happening RJ. Now, I wont go into the details of our sojourn across to Delhi. (Personal inquiries are always welcome!) but people were JEALOUS, and when I mentioned a “Good Bye hug!”, well you know what I mean right?

The Sulk and Sheldon Cooper have their own take on things, and were fighting over plagiarisms of each other’s blogs. See that is what is called “delusion of grandeur”. One joke later and we were all into the rock night. Doesn’t’ matter how pathetic the band, just go nuts! Entry, it turns out was closed as there were already too many people. My popularity quotient (and this time I am dead serious) came to the rescue and the people actually ushered us in. A vodka shot, some prestorika and after a half step down, I sit here typing this out!

Oh and did I mention I haven’t slept for 48 hours straight?

Yea, I thought something was amiss! It really was happening!

And yes Dela! While we were discussing Ents destroying Isengrad, I saw damsels looking at us with utter astonishment! Maybe it pays to be a geek! Howzatt Sheldon?

They make loving fun!

I admit, I had thought of blogs on a variety of topics but like most good things, this is a stroke of inspiration. An inspiration after watching 90 minutes of magic. The magic weaved by Manchester United. Like most of their performances which keep reminding you that not much has changed at the Theatre of Dreams for the last ten years,each backheel, each overlapping run bringing the same rush to the veins.

It feels funny somehow, if you look at it from a footballing perspective, one moment you are worried Chelsea have got such a attacking new manager who could take them to further heights the upcoming season. One OT fixture later, you put that all past you! You put all competetiveness aside and just relax and ponder on that one two Berbatov played with Rooney. Diatribes against other rivals almost start seeming like lowblows. Almost unfaithful to Man Utd itself.

Why am I writing this blog NOW when I probably was born to follow Man Utd? Hmmm…..Cant say! Don’t Care!

What matters is today I saw music in the making. Let’s take it from the top:

Van Der Saar- Can’t Get close enough (Black Sabbath)

Nemanja Vidic- Simple Man (Lynyrd Skynyrd)

Rio Ferdinand- Fire(Poets of the Fall)

Nemanja Vidic & Rio Ferdinand- Brothers in Arms(Dire Straits)

Rafael Da Silva- New kid in town(Eagles)

Patrice Evra- I like Dirt(RHCP)

Darren Fletcher- Every rose has its thorn(Poison)

Ryan Giggs- Pianoman(Billy Joel)

Park Ji Sung- No fortunate son(CCR)

Christiano Ronaldo dos Santos- Master of Puppets(Metallica)

Wayne Rooney- Highway to hell(AC/DC)

Dimitar Berbatov- Time(Hootie and the Blowfish)

And the One man to rule ‘em all, One man to control ‘em all:

Sir Alex Ferguson- Stairway to heaven.

Heard a sweeter symphony anyone?

Emothundi!

“Peaceful” would definitely be the last word for my holidays. With a 75-km trek to contend with(not that I am complaining in hindsight), the concept of being “laid back” definitely took a turn on its back! Much like my walk during the whole of the trek and therebeyonds (slow as a snail, steady as a tortoise), I write this blog on some of the observations and reflections that crossed me during the past few days:

· Mohit really knows how to bluff. Trust me if you saw him pull off the tricks he did, you would stop playing cards. (and if you don’t get the double entendre of the statement, you probably have no life.)
· Dogs have a natural liking towards me. (who said likes repel?)
· When you are dehydrated and exhausted near passing out, the thought of Nicole Kidman (and glucose ofcourse) serves as a good energy booster.
· The thoughts of a 6-year old on love and relationships old are more logical than the students of IIT Roorkee.
· A whistling rendition of the “Smoke on the water” riff impreses girls.
· Going on about the differences between grunge and industrial rock doesn't.
· Amitabh Bacchan celebrated his 66^th birthday.
· Sonu fell in a borewell.
· That’s it! That’s all I thought during all of the previous ten days!

Sharp brain I have, return I shall with more!

Confessions of a Nostalgic Mind

I guess its not me alone who has noticed that life has turned mundane all of a sudden. Senor Lefty went ahead and wrote a blog about it. This put me thinking (you have to realise the gravity of the situation, its not very often I “think”) on my past two years in the insti. To back it up, a trip to RJB completed the nostalgia that I had been feeling for the past week.

Seems funny, how trivial a thing such as getting a non-ghissue kid as your room-pota puts your mind at ease and the jubilation you feel when you notice your “NAHAANA SAKHT MANA HAI!” peeking out from the door of the still dilapidated cupboard. Now the song Puraani Jeans was good but then it didn’t mention “woh karna orkutting doston ke saath”.

Back to the present now, and a caught proxy brings the same chuckle it used to bring back in the first week of the first year. The mess food bring the same grimace that it used to bring back on the first day of the first year. A nine o clock starting day seems heaven when compared to an eight o’ clock starting day. Some things never change!

Some things that do change however are the following:

1) You realise cleanliness is next to Godliness. But time doesn’t permit such lavish pursuits.

2) You start giving due respect to girls. Never ogle at one for less than five minutes.

3) You realise the pathway to immortality is having a “committed” tag.

4) You use your clothes judiciously. Ab daag acche hain!

And then people like me get oppurtunities to bug people by actually having their opinion put in the college magazine!

Life is great!

p.s.- The blog was partially an attempt at coming up with meaningful sentences and partially an attempt to keep my blogger account active!

New Pin Ups!

“ I want a new tour bus full of old guitars

…..my own star on Hollywood Boulevard

Somewhere between Cher and James Dean is fine for me!”

I walked the ramp today.

* The following story is based on true events. Any resemblance to an awesome person and a not-so-awesome one are not coincidental but merely solid truth.

Sweaty Teddy:“Cmmon! Lets go!”

The Hunk: “Where to? Cant you see I have just started ghissing?”

Sweaty Teddy: “Abe…..remember Vogue auditions!”

Narrator: Vogue is the fashion parade of the cultural fest of the college The Morons goto.

The Hunk: “Are you out of your whatever little mind you have left or do you actually think with your rear?”

Sweaty Teddy: “This is important for me and how pathetic would it look if I went there alone?”

The Hunk: “Not as pathetic as it is looking right now!”

Sweaty Teddy: “Cmmon! Rampwalk!”

God: “Go on Hunk! Its okay!”

The Hunk: “Okay! Let us see….what rampwalk feels like”

Narrator: And hence set out the duo of Sweaty Teddy and The Hunk ala Turner and Hooch style. Now true to his name Sweaty Teddy has the tendency to develop extra large sweat glands whenever a member of the opposite sex approaches. So needless to say he was walking towards a sureshot calamity. Thus they entered the arena.

The Hunk: “Yeah we are here…. now what Teddy? Teddy? Teddy!!!”

(Teddy is crouching behind a tree approximately 20 metres before the entrance to the theatre)

Teddy: “Oh my god! There are so many girls!”

Hunk: “You were right! This is pathetic! Thanks for showing this awesome display of girlpower!”

(After 15 minutes assuring that he will return alive, Teddy finally enters the arena!)

Narrator: It was Hunk’s turn to set ablaze the stage first. True to his name he walked and boy he walked! Then quite contrary to his name when he was supposed to quote on “Why you want to join Vogue?”, he went ahead and just flashed his million-dollar-smile and two thumbed thumbs up for all the flashing cameras! Actually, just the one camera in his case.

Then walked Teddy, actually "walk" is not the right term “controlling your run so that others don’t know your hind is on fire” is better! His words of wisdom then were “I want to join Vogue because I think its all about fashion and style!”

But alas, there is one character who in this whole story turned out to be the backstabber! You see, God isn’t as serious as people make him out to be. Teddy qualified for the second round and Hunk was kicked out!

As we now see Hunk’s room, Teddy is abusing him for calling himself “Hunk” and is wondering why on earth he is being called “Sweaty Teddy”!