Darius Mistry's Proud Discovery Of The Day!!!

LEt me begin by saying that contrary to popular belief this is not my discovery. A friend of mine, Rohan was telling me about this site yesterday and he was crackig up talking about it. I chanced upon it today myself...

HAVE FUN, ME HEARTIES!

http://www.4q.cc/vin/index.php?topten


Here are some o the MORE popular ones!!
*falling out of fucking chair laughing!*

Vin Diesel has enough pubic hair to shelter 95.2% of the homeless in Africa, however he decided against using his power for good when Noah built the Ark and did not invite him as he could not find another Vin Diesel.

After completing a hard-fought game of Risk against, well, himself, Vin Diesel likes nothing better than to pick up a skipping rope and work himself up to a light pace of 5,378 skips per second. He can also slow down his heart rate to one heart beat every February 28th ? that?s slower than it takes Jeff Goldblum to complete a sentence.


Vin Diesel once had a cobra that he named "Beverly". He taught it how to fetch and dial a phone. But then one day, it bit the maid. So with tears in his eyes, Vin Diesel had to shoot the maid.


Vin Diesel created the God Quetzalcoatl when he threw a parrot and iguana into a bedroom and told them "to wing it".


Whenever a family in China gave birth to a daughter, they'd call Vin Diesel to eat it for them.


Vin Diesel wouldn't hurt a fly. However, he does enjoy wiping out the whole populations of third world countries.

AND THE BEST! (for those of you that recognize its content)

On the day they stole his hat, Vin Diesel put a jihad on them, and if you dont like it, he'll put a jihad on you too.

John Brown - posted by Darius

I was thinking about the post below this one, and about the Delhi blasts that took place earlier. I was reminded of this song by Bob Dylan. I hunted for the lyrics to this song, because they've sort of struck a chord with me. Do try and procure the song, it has a lovely riff....I don't really know why I was struck by it tonight, but anyways here it is...

John Brown went off to war to fight on a foreign shore.
His mama sure was proud of him!
He stood straight and tall in his uniform and all.
His mama's face broke out all in a grin.

"Oh son, you look so fine, I'm glad you're a son of mine,
You make me proud to know you hold a gun.
Do what the captain says, lots of medals you will get,
And we'll put them on the wall when you come home."

As that old train pulled out, John's ma began to shout,
Tellin' ev'ryone in the neighborhood:
"That's my son that's about to go, he's a soldier now, you know."
She made well sure her neighbors understood.

She got a letter once in a while and her face broke into a smile
As she showed them to the people from next door.
And she bragged about her son with his uniform and gun,
And these things you called a good old-fashioned war.

Oh! Good old-fashioned war!

Then the letters ceased to come, for a long time they did not come.
They ceased to come for about ten months or more.
Then a letter finally came saying, "Go down and meet the train.
Your son's a-coming home from the war."

She smiled and went right down, she looked everywhere around
But she could not see her soldier son in sight.
But as all the people passed, she saw her son at last,
When she did she could hardly believe her eyes.

Oh his face was all shot up and his hand was all blown off
And he wore a metal brace around his waist.
He whispered kind of slow, in a voice she did not know,
While she couldn't even recognize his face!

Oh! Lord! Not even recognize his face.

"Oh tell me, my darling son, pray tell me what they done.
How is it you come to be this way?"
He tried his best to talk but his mouth could hardly move
And the mother had to turn her face away.

"Don't you remember, Ma, when I went off to war
You thought it was the best thing I could do?
I was on the battleground, you were home . . . acting proud.
You wasn't there standing in my shoes."

"Oh, and I thought when I was there, God, what am I doing here?
I'm a-tryin' to kill somebody or die tryin'.
But the thing that scared me most was when my enemy came close
And I saw that his face looked just like mine."

Oh! Lord! Just like mine!

"And I couldn't help but think, through the thunder rolling and stink,
That I was just a puppet in a play.
And through the roar and smoke, this string is finally broke,
And a cannon ball blew my eyes away."

As he turned away to walk, his Ma was still in shock
At seein' the metal brace that helped him stand.
But as he turned to go, he called his mother close
And he dropped his medals down into her hand...

another act of terrorism.....

The Delhi bomb-blast was a colossal tragedy and all of us felt for the people of delhi in that moment of grief. It is regrettable that the world woke up to the threat of terrorism only after the horrific events of the day. Terrorism cannot, and should not, be dealt with in a selective and segmented manner within the framework of individual nation states and their priorities. We should understand that terrorism is indivisible, international and is perpetuated not only by non-state actors but also by some governments, as an instrument of their state policy. The approach that says,"the terrorism I face is of higher priority than the terrorism you face" is illogical, and has dangerous implications for global stability and security. Equally grave is the cross-border flow of funds through different channels that help support terrorist organizations. This must be dealt with comprehensively and globally.

aakriti

WHAT DO YOU WANT IT TO BE???

He comes to me and hands me this... something (i didn’t know what it was)... I ask "what is it?"... Then comes the reply...."My friend what do you want it to be....".... Things have changed ever since... there is much more in things than what appears... look at them differently and enjoy life... ‘cus creativity and imagination never ends... it always begins!!!

Lets begin!!!


sahirr

just another bombay day...

The wall vs The oracle

Who will win this battle of between the wall of ego and the oracle.....who is cooler.....who is more powerful.....is it the wall or the oracle..... vote now...

Darius Mistry's Proud Discovery of the Day!

Remember Ben Affleck? The guy with the abnormally large head and who dated Jennifer Lopez for awhile? The "actor" who DAZZLED us in the supreme Micheal Bay extravaganza that was Pearl Harbour? The gigolo from Gigli?
Don't get me wrong, I think he is quite a talented person in Hollywood. His performances in films like Chasing Amy, Dogma etc. were fabulous. Its just that this putz has totally gone off track with signing the wrong films of late. But I'm getting distracted as usual...


It seems at some weird point of his lifetime, 1993 to be exact, this young "star" decided to turn director. And here for you, dear readers, was the name of his first film....


"I killed my Lesbian Wife, hung her on a Meat Hook, and now I have a three-picture deal with Disney!!!"



When I read that name, I swear I fell down off my chair laughing my ass off. And now I'm actually curious about it. So if ANYone knows anyone who owns this film, or knows where to find it, have them contact me please. I'd love to see it! Heck, I'd love to screen it in college!
But for real shits and giggles,I would LOVE to give this film to the opposite team in a game of Charades!

Oh and this is true by the way, check www.imdb.com, and search for it.
Bwahahahahahha!

Films

Was clearing my drive again today when I saw this thing. I wrote it around last year on another blog, and I thought I might share it up here as well, you may find it interesting. Cheers.

Today someone asked me why I love movies so much….

I smiled back silently. There were quite a few ways I could have answered this question. How does one begin to explain what goes through my mind at the thought of watching a film, any film? It’s difficult to put it into words, you know. But let me try to do that here if I can. Some of you who I’ve told this to might find it familiar, and for the others it may provide some insight, so read on.

It’s raining outside… you get up in the morning, and if you’re me, then most mornings you stare drowsily into your bathroom mirror intently, trying to recognize the haggard prick looking back at you…

There’s something different about this morning…there’s a little jolt of excitement and apprehension that’s been plaguing you through the pits of your stomach since you’ve woken up. You KNOW this is going to be like no other day. There’s something about a visit to the cinema hall that makes you half smile, every time you remind yourself that pretty soon you’ll be in there…

So in great anticipation you begin rushing with everything don’t you…? It pisses you off when the people around you don’t seem to understand why you’re rushing. They don’t seem to understand the reason behind your passive excitement. To them, it’s just another film, just another outing. It’s like any other public place, any destination that attracts large crowds. But to you, it’s like a second home…

You finally do leave your place of residence, cursing at your own bad luck of being a half hour late. Those sneakers always seem to disappear whenever you’re in a hurry to be anywhere, don’t they? Braving the windy rains and the puddles of water all over your neighborhood with nothing but a black umbrella, you set out for your journey. Rickshaws and cabs are hard to come by in this weather of course and buses are out of the question because of the time factor, but you still don’t give up hope.

You glance at your watch. Glistening through the drops of water on the glass is the time. You have exactly fifteen minutes to get there now, and you’re praying that the show does not turn into a full house. At this point you suddenly think for a second and whip your right hand instinctively to the back of your trousers fishing out your wallet to make sure you have enough money for the ticket. *phew* enough for ticket and popcorn… Nothing like popcorn. Nothing…

You’re finally there... Chaos and pandemonium…Umbrellas and raincoats of various shapes and sizes and colours everywhere…some of them are freakishly psychedelic. At one corner is a guy trying to manage a bunch of unruly kids, one of them having just kicked him in the shins rather hard. At another end is a young college couple who can’t seem to get their hands off each other, and are itching to get themselves a seat in the last row in the darkness and start the snuggling. You valiantly push your way through all this and get to the counter, holding out your money. You already begin to glance at the possibility of selecting a good enough seat. Got to have the best of everything, surround sound, quick exit in case it’s actually a bad film, and closest to the canteen for the interval. You’re in luck and you select one right in the centre. Only a matter of time now…

The doors open. You make sure to take your time now, to find your seat and make yourself comfortable. As you enter the hall, the first thing you sense is the change in the temperature. Cool, air conditioning, wonderful ambience, and there’s a hush around the whole place as people are filing in from everywhere. Old classic music plays. Dimmed lights all over the place, with a flicker and an occasional flash here and there from the torch of the usher. You don’t need him, you think to yourself with a sardonic smile. Let the rest of the fuckers try and decipher letters and numbers, you’re educated well enough to find your own seat.

The moment you sit down, you lean back instinctively. Followed by a rather long deep sigh. This sigh signifies a lot. This sigh signifies your struggle at having got here. It signifies the long hours of having waited to watch this movie. It takes you back to the previous night when you were propped up on one shoulder in bed, wondering what 9 15 a.m. was going to feel like. Well its here now, and it grips you at the heart even more.

Trailers are like foreplay before the action. I mean this quite literally you know. The movies would never work if there were no trailers and teasers about them made and shown in every cinema hall. You have to watch the trailers don’t you? Can’t get enough of them. Whether the movie is good or the worst piece of turd to come into existence, chances are it’s a very good trailer nonetheless. One by one they play in front of your eyes, and your heart is literally thumping with excitement by now. This is just what you needed, you needed to have something to open your eyes, no, open your mind a bit further. Love the voice over guy with the deep husky voice. You try and imagine that the dude has smoked at least ten packs of cigarettes before recording his voiceover for the trailer. Hands into your pockets and you switch your cell phone on silent. A few more minutes now and then….

Lights out….Silence falls over the entire place…..Darkness……

20^th Century Fox…..

Enough talk now…..movie’s started.

- Darius Mistry

ARRIVAL OF PAGE 3

hey every one...
ive made a new addition to thewilsonite..

introducing page 3.... the official page of photographs...!
the page where the papparazzi cuts loose!

go ahead.. check it out!
wev got the industrial visit, khopoli and roshnees surprise party covered..
ppl with photots, go to webshots.com.. download the software n upload away!

ola everyone!
enjoy!

tanvi

Night Meld

I hate nature most of the times. Its annoying and it has bugs which sting and the rest of it. The times I don’t hate nature are the times I remember with the greatest clarity. I kid you not I have the worst memory ever and when I remember something its an achievement for me. I have studied English poetry for the last two years of my life, I have read the works of Keats and Wordsworth and others like them, and I could be there in the poem sometimes but sometimes totally out of it. The part of nature I remember best is the night. The night sky is something I really love; it provokes the most introspection and the greatest surges of creative energy I have ever experienced. The stars and of course the moon. Memories of the night from all over the world are still with me, from my youngest days to right now.
I remember the nights in Goa when I was a young boy. We would be traveling home after visiting people, and the road would be illuminated only by the stars and the moon. The beach on the side of the road and the waves would punctuate the scene of course. The night always makes me remember, my mind can forget the nights but my body never will. The distant places appear in my head and my memory is flooded with the various nights I have seen. I remember a night I spent in Switzerland, the chateau I was staying in was intricately placed at the middle of a hill and I could glance towards the Alps. I remember seeing the sky a little hazy with a few clouds in the sky, however the Alps were glistening silver under the moon and it was a wonderful sight. I remember the night outside my window from my brief stay in a flat in London. The whole place seemed pale and London’s aged buildings seemed regal under the full moon. Bangkok was another lovely moon it was a different colour. I really loved Hong Kong especially when I had just crossed over using the ferry, the divide between Kowloon and Hong Kong and the illuminated bay. Even the moon in Dubai from my rented studio room was beautiful, the desert itself was a different colour and felt like a different entity, almost like you could live there and it was not really that harsh. The most recent night i remember however is one fine night somewhere in the midst of maharashtra, a handful of gentlemen and i were labouring to save our journey and we worked under an overcast night sky. I remember the fireflies illuminating the dark road, and a hardy company set off down a long road walking to shelter. On the open road when the fireflies were gone, still the fellowship trudged along. the skies were filled with thunder and lightning and the air was cool. we got there and i ll never ever forget the fireflies and what they did for my spirit.
The truth is no matter how many places you visit in your lifetime the nights at home will still dominate your memory. I remember one party at my friend’s place (you lot were in khopoli, classmates that is) we had been partying since ten thirty and his house is situated right on juhu beach. It was four thirty and just a few of us lying around drunk, with the hookah in hand gazing out to sea. That was a powerful night and one I really love to remember. My all time favourite memory of the night would have to be from home itself. Some nights a little after the monsoon one can see the horizon from my house, dotted with little gold specks, fishing boats all out at sea like a gold chain. This is one of the most amazing ones I can remember. During winter, very early into the hours of the morning the moon would be right above the sea. The waves reflect the most beautiful silver I have ever seen. Its very cool in my compound (I love oomer park, its so green and I can easily see the sea living happily in south Bombay) the coconut trees sway in the breeze and the cool wind tickles you. It’s so silent in a bustling city like mine that I forget where I am. I m lost for at least an hour on nights like these staring out at the sea, trapped in love, wonder and the peace of my mind. Its times like these when a special tingle goes up and down your body and you really never feel better. Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic who gets lost easily in the nights and in my thoughts. The nights I remember meld into one now and then and really I become comfortably numb.
“Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light”
Dylan Thomas
siddhant(since the daylight has faded and you have fought for your day embrace the night and let go..)

"A lil' bit of this, a lil' bit of that.."

“So, what kind of music do you listen to?”

The NUMBER of times I have been asked that question! Mostly, the person asking the question couldn’t care less. It’s just a way of making conversation. But every single time I’m asked this, I always have trouble answering it.

For most others, it’s straightforward enough. “Rock.” “Country.” “Pop.” “Gospel.” And then there’s the minority, like me, who shrug, develop large creases in our foreheads that give rise to pained expressions, and say, “Oooooh, a lil’ bit of this, and a lil’ bit of that.”

Sounds really vague, I know. And most people end up thinking that I’m not what they define as a ‘music person’. But those who know me better will tell you that isn’t the case at all.

Well, the reason my reply is so vague and half-hearted, is because I find it hard to draw any boundaries to my taste in music. Frankly, I don’t see the need to have any boundaries in the first place. There’s no reason why anyone should like only a particular genre now, is there?? Why do so many people insist that they listen to rock, even when they go home and listen to Westlife and Boyzone?? That’s music too, isn’t it? And there’s nothing wrong with admitting that maybe you do really like the Backstreet Boys. And George Michael. And Britney Spears. And Pankaj Udhas. I mean, SO WHAT? It’s your choice, and no one else should have a say in it.

Also, the NUMBER of people I’ve met, who think that Hindi music is ‘uncool’!! They scoff at people who sing Hindi songs, people who know all the lyrics to ‘Dil Ko’. Who do they think they are? I can understand if they genuinely do not LIKE Hindi music. Or if they have trouble understanding the words. But to look down on something that is different from your tastes, THAT is something I will never be able to fathom.

Any rhythm, however quaint, that accompanies simple words about life and its little twists and turns, oddities and surprises, which makes sense to me, is music to my ears. There’s so much expression in a song. So much to interpret, and wonder at. How can there be just one Correct kind of music? And WHY do people judge others by their taste in music??

Do I sound angsty? Sorry. I’m not. It’s just something I wonder about each time I’m asked The Question. I don’t profess to like all genres in music. My taste in music is not all-encompassing. I detest death-metal. I also hate Britney. And Christina Aguilera. And Justin Timberlake. But I’m not one of those people who will force my likes or dislikes on anyone else. To each, his own, I say.

Why have I chosen to bring up such a trivial, insignificant topic? It’s probably because I’m a big Westlife fan, and I’ve always been worried about stating that fact to people.

Nah. I’m kidding. I AM a big Westlife fan, or atleast, I used to be, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to feel ashamed of the fact. Then again, maybe I chose to bring this trivial, insignificant topic up because it means something to me. And because I really, truly feel that everybody must be allowed to enjoy their choice of rhythm and rhyme. So, if Britney Spears’ music stirs your soul, then so be it!


riya

PETA's newest Messiah - Darius Mistry

Let me first state, for the record, that I love dogs, and I’d be lucky to own one. So before you read on, keep that in mind. Any teenyboppers reading this, please do not show up at my door with a sawed off shotgun. Right, this happened to me a few months ago, and I had written about it on another blog. I was going through my hard disk and formatting today morning, and I found it again. Read on…

So a few months back, I was on my way to the station and I was running a bit late. I was walking towards the rickshaw stand, and I noticed this woman selling fish walking in the opposite direction on the other side of the road. I didn’t pay her much attention until she suddenly put her basket down and attracted the neighborhood stray dogs with them.

Anyways, they were on my side of the street, lying down and relaxing in the shade, not bothering anybody. Until they saw this woman. And she was the absolute genius to toss a large smelly fish towards them. Well, to be more accurate she threw it at ME, that is to say, at my feet. Well, as you can imagine, they went pretty wild with it. Six rather dirty brown dogs, all hoping for a fishy lunch, started fighting for it.

Right THERE! At MY feet!

I almost tripped over twice trying to get around them. And I managed to in the end. But in the process, I mistakenly nudged one of them aside with my right foot.

And I swear, it was ONLY a nudge. NOT a kick. So anyways, the dog yelped a bit. It got the message, and moved aside. I got out of that fight that had by now become rather wild. I continued walking towards the rickshaw, quite a bit annoyed at the woman with the basket for doing that.

And then suddenly something cold clutched my left hand in a rather tight grip. I turned around to see this little pimply-faced fat kid glaring menacingly at me. The way he was looking at me, you’d think I’d broken his legs or something.

Me: (scowling at him) What?

Him: “In the name of PETA! I hold you under citizen’s arrest!” (blinks)

I looked at him puzzled for at least 5 seconds, wondering whether to laugh, whether he was joking. First of all, he had pronounced it like the word “pet” with an Aaa at the end.

Me: “What?!”

Him: “Tumne us kutte ko laat maara. Agar Woh Marta toh?!

(You kicked that poor defenseless loveable puppy dog. What would you, Oh big bad monster tall kid do, if he had died?!?!?!)

Me: Laat kaun maara?! (I didn’t KICK him!)

Him: (back to broken English) “No! You now come with me!! I’m taking you to Jail!!”

Me: Shut Up!

Him: EH! U SHUT UP! CHALO! *tugged me again harder*

Me: You insolent little shit. Let go of my hand right now.

He hesitates and looks around at some building. I follow his gaze and catch sight of a woman peering out of a window on the ground floor. Sure enough, it was his mother. She didn’t look too bright either. There were a few things going through my mind at this point. One, I could take an extra minute or two and kick the living shit out of this idiot. Two, I could follow his bluff and follow him to the chowki around the corner. Like hell, they’d believe a little kid. In fact, if I played my cards right I could get HIM locked away for an hour. Tell them he’s insane or something. And three, yank myself free, yell at him and his mother and still try and catch the train that was due at the station in a few minutes.

I took the third option, although I really didn’t want to. I would have dearly loved to stay there finish it off. But I had to be somewhere else. I yanked my hand free, pushed the kid over, who reeled shakily a few feet back. I gave him a look that meant that playtime was over. He got the hint, and headed back inside his gate glumly, while his mother looked on.

So I caught the train, I played the incident back in my mind over and over again. After awhile my anger and frustration for him was soon replaced with sympathy. I pity what he must have to go through every day at school, if he tries shit like this. When I related this incident to a few people, they laughed and so did I. I mean really, imagine what his classmates would do to him if he tried lines like that on them. They’d show him some REAL animal cruelty.

I mean….DAMN!!!

What the hell is WRONG with these kids these days?! They’re getting crazier every day!

useless post!

its a great feeling..
knowing what to post about...

i wudnt know tho..
look at my lame attempt...at posting shit..

hmm....
so...
shit man..!

the oracle doesnt know a shit man!

poll

ok this is a stupid poll
but everyone must take part in it and cast ur vote.

is smsing using the dictionary more commonly used or do ppl prefer texting without the dictionary option on.?

cast ur votes now!

all in favour of dictionary
post a comment saying
"dictionary(give ur name. ill b very kind to u in my next blog)

and all those in favour of no dictionary
post a comment saying.
"fuckall way of smsing"

ola everyone..
make sure ull do this.

the (self proclaimed) oracle....
shahvan.. happpy???!

Momzie- Mini-g

Hello my fellow class mates who are aptly proving their worth by exemplifying the much needed class unity. This is just a small attempt at swaying the eerie winds, that are plaguing our blog these days, out of sight. Hope this brings an end to a disastrously cold prickly-ish winter to an end a much awaited spring shines on us!
So here we go....

Momzie

Have you ever imagined the Giant squib whine?
Step into my world:
Hear my mother- the monk at work in her sacred shrine!

Have you ever found them annoying- the squeaking crickets?
Well, witness this:
My mum barking, faster than what sound could travel, her pricking epithets!

If you thought efficiency was at its peak with Mc Enroe’s half volley,
Think again, I insist:
My mum’s proficiency at tearing my flesh apart for each flaw and folly!

On this, even at the sight of her shadow one might want to flee,
But trust me- she’s the BEST.
When it’s dark all around, it’s the divine light she sheds that I see.

For sowing these naughty poetic seeds, ugly fruits I might reap,
Yet, I pray to God:
Every night she’s the one by my side whom I could cuddle and sleep.

TIED UP- and flogged

greetings you lot, you men and women who have been hurt but the words of a callous man, a prick if you will. he has made me laugh a helluva lot, really mind-bogglingly funny shit. i write this today cause you guys were put off by this freak, and when my friends are dishonoured shit happens! I of course was not affected, owing to the fact that im a wall of ego(really the fact that i m talking about myself again is another one). I write this because my friend Karan was too nice. I also write this cause you intend to try and tell us "BY THE WAY THE VERNACULAR ROCKS !!!!!!!"
Its time infidel, to fight a fight you cant win, you have taken the earlier batches, you may think you have taken my classmates, but biatch (Respect me while i talk to you heathen scum) you just worry about me(and well darius, karan and well hakim and vikram you know why!!) but mainly worry about me becuase this is only the beginning.
So you think you can tell us what you hate about us, ho? What you unleashing exactly? Are you trying to tell us that you are so inadequate that you have to hate other people more than yourself? I know what roop would say if he were here,"What man you parents lagoaed nicely and all they got was you?" Exactly how inadequate are you? Did you one day decide to look down your pants and cry? Is it soo small? Did your mommy tell you "its ok baby"? Well she was wrong, size does matter? And as for spamming...dude you suck man. Dont quit your day job if this is all you can handle. You must be the only spammer i know who disses someone and compliments them at the same time. So what if Riya sings well? Cant sing na?I knew it dude, you ve been exploding like a "volcano" too much...by the way have you exploded your volcano recently? You know i read somewhere if you dont na your prostrate grows like a melon, you know what else.... you get little(i mean very little) cranky... But its cool dude, you know and i know you ll never get any action your whole life (after they see your "inadequacy" thats why you have to and dishonour guys with a girlfriend) so it decied to grow now. And whats your deal with sarcasm? Again dude, you dont have na? sense of humour? Arrey dude, let it go in "the Volcano"? Its ok dude some people dont have a sense of humour(no its just you really). Again as for mediocrity,dude become a mediocre spammer then lecture... you suck as a normal one.
Really man, I know you are highly sucky but really man im sure there is something in your pants!! I mean if you had even a little bit of courage you would have the balls to tell us who you are.. wouldnt you? i mean seriously i mean what you have my friend is what i call "inSADequacy" not only are you low and inadequate but also sad... Scum, i know my ego is big, but as compared to "yours" its really really big(thats if you get what im saying).
come on, mr "Vernacular" lets have a little game, you know who I am, we dont know who you are, im all exposed in the open in front of everyone, you re hiding like a fairy. Lets have a battle of wits(if you dont have any its not my fault....go home). In closing, no need for tinted glass you read correct, come challenge us if you dare well make you want to hate yourself and commit suicide. Your parents dont even love you, you are adopted.

Siddhant (please say "hi" to your mama, all us boys really love her(roll no:36, 38 28 etc etc etc etc!!!!)

THE WILSONITE

hello

An Open Letter...

Dear Mr or Miss Spammer,

I'd like to start by quoting someone who knew his shit, before his violent death, of course.

'The coward only threatens when he is safe.'

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Coward, darpoke, lâche, Feigling and cobarde.... spoken in many languages, but the damning verdict remains the same - A spineless pussy with a severe lack of convictions.

Throughout the annals of time, this world has seen a history of cowards. Ranging back to the caveman, who decided that it was a good idea to stab his fellow caveman in the back, when he wasn't looking. Moving forth to Judas and his glass-sharing, Jesus-betraying ways. Later, came Brutus and his Caeser-betraying ways. Not all cowards were betrayers though. Oh no, there was Guy Fawkes, the world's FIRST mass bomber. I'm certain there were plenty of Egyptian cowards in the Pyramid building eras.. oh and lets not forget, General Dyer of Jallianwala Bagh fame.. Jumping closer to the present, there's the cowardly Bush administration, the cowards who bomb the fuck out of Israel, Palestine and Kashmir everyday. Need I even bother to mention the Al-Qaeda? The point is that all these parties are looked upon as scum, mainly because that is what they are... Absolute fuckin' scum!

Directing my attention now to the issue at hand, I'd like to issue an open invitation to the bigoted, self-righteous, pompous little shit, who quite happily went along for the ride on the Satara-Baramati trip and like the sycophantic little prick that he/she is, kept his/her mouth shut the whole time. And now, protected by the veil of internet anonymity, this 'volcanic' soul decides to turn the bitch-o-meter rating up way beyond full and take a shit on random undeserving souls. Air your grievances, by all means, do so. But have the decency, to mention who it is that sees fit to pass such callous remarks.

But I must admit, there is some sense in your ramblings. "Our class sucks because we ain’t got any unity". Damn straight! How could we even dream of unity, when we're being brought down by the likes of your good self. As for 'worshipping mediocrity' and 'being lead by posers', nobody fuckin' tells you to worship or be lead by anyone or anything. (one of the points of this BMM course, you so willingly signed up for) And if they are such mediocre posers, why worship or follow them? EH?!?!

But, what is done is done... and now looking to the future, I would like to call out this guerrilla journalist to come on out and air his/her issues with each person, FACE TO FACE... mano y mano.. and all that... A joke is fine,.. jibes are fine,.. fuckin' parodies and lampooning is fine. But out and out sadistic, spiteful and malicious bitchings are where you have crossed the line. Hide behind the 'Spammer' tag for as long as you want, you shall only be proving my point... that point being the long-winded one about cowardice..

I urge you to be under no misconceptions, I'll be the one with the loudest and most raucous laugh, when Lenin, Joslin and especially ... and i mean ESPECIALLY hakim rip your character apart piece by piece... Oh.. and I'll be the one in the bright red fuckin' clothes...

Eagerly anticipating your response,

Yours Truly,

Karan Pradhan

Texas Retard Massacre

Yes, you read it right. Enough of this deep profound horse shit. Time to get back to reality, to here and now. Time to get back to comfortable ranting on a blog.It's so much easier that way. No expectations, no disappointments. Works for everybody if a post is random and completely disconnected, devoid of any particular point. It's going to proceed somewhere along those lines now...

Was watching TV late last night and I actually spotted Cops. I thought the producers had finally come to their senses and pulled it off the air. Apparently not. But since it was past 3 am, being the inquisitive prick I am, I saw the show in a completely different light. I saw another fantastic example of how asinine and idiotic the average American is today. I don't blame Green Day for saying, "Don't want to be an American Idiot!"
So here was my observations about the show Cops. Ever notice that the cops are really determined and they do whatever the fuck they can to catch the guy? I mean if catching a fugitive means, stopping dropping to knees rolling, climbing fences, using gas grenades whatever, they WILL do it. They just do not know the meaning of the word "Quit". Commendable efforts one has to make notice of. They will od whatever they can to stop him. If it means kicking his ass, tripping him over, biting his goddamn ankles to get him to stand still they WILL do it!

And in the end they get the guy. The something really strange happens EVERY time with EVERY cop! Just at the point when the perpetrateur is in handcuffs, his head has had a few knocks, hes cut bleeding, black eyes , the works, mostly courtesy of Mr. Cop, he gets help getting into the patrol car! By the same cop that kicked his ass. The same guy will take position behind him and hold his head and GUIDE him slowly into the car, so as not to injure himself...talk about redundancy! I mean, fuck, you've beaten him to a pulp and dragged his ass through some rather murky streets and NOW is the time to be courteous?? Doesn't make sense at all...and this happens ALL THE TIME!

But the Americans have always been two sided crazy people. The Supreme Court, only a couple of years ago banned the execution of retarded people in the State of Texas. And thank god they did. They were zapping the retards there like there was no tomorrow!

"Go sit on Santa's lap, Timmy! There's a good boy, there's a goood fella!"
.......BBHZZZZZZTH!!!! *throws switch*

Yeah, that ugly. I know, of course that the definition of the word "retard" in a place like Texas IS pretty wide, but goddamn, this one takes the cake. I'm not implying that the Texans are heartless bastards of course. There IS a moment of compassion in executions. Right before they give you the lethal injection, they'l roll up your arm and give you an alcohol swab for the needle insertion....which is SO nice of them!

*Convict on death row prays silently, suddenly feels his sleeve being rolled up*
*Guard is dabbing alcohol on his arm*
"What the fuck are you doing, man?!?!"
"Oh , come on now, we don't want you to get that LAST SECOND INFECTION, now do we?"
*toothy grin*

Idiots...No, REALLY! IDIOTS!

Darius

Thoughts and Aspirations!

(HEY PEOPLE... i dont expect you people to like this ... so anyways if you dont like it... dont give me idiotic comments ... i wont be paying attention to them anyways)

Many a times I wonder what would I want to be if not a human? Maximum thoughts, which strike me, are either to be a balloon or a rainbow! I try to reason it out and think to myself, if I were a colorful balloon I could bounce around or even float in the skies and reach new heights each time. I could bring a smile on a child’s face or express love to a loved one. But then I wonder what if I get lost in the sky, or when I get deflated, I would come down again and be of no use to anyone. And what if I burst in the hands of my master! So then I quit thoughts of being a balloon and think about the rainbow. It would be exciting to be one, I could stretch over a whole horizon spreading colors and making people smile. I could ornament the sky and make earth look pleasant and lively. But then again, I could be dissolved into nowhere when the sun would shine or once the skies would clear up or the monsoons are over. The thoughts of not existing and exploring the world deter me from such aspirations and make me wonder how lucky I am, to be a human. I realize I have capabilities to explore and learn more from life everyday and even observe a rainbow stretched in the sky or a balloon wobbling in mid-air!

Sahirr Sethhi

wilsonites...!

life at wilson college......

from that day of interviews till today...
it feels like ages....
getting rejected at the interview.... crying for hours at the thought of being in bhavans college, attending a day at bhavans n then begging sudhakar for a second interview..
a 45 minute long interview, the ecstasy felt on the 1st day at wilson..
making new friends.. meeting project deadlines, working on group projects, khopoli, exams, industrial visit...

but what stands out most is all the friends ive made...
its been a little scary, joining college late.. but its been really good for me.....
its been a ball, wilson college.. but it wudnt b without u guys... ( now i know this is getting really emotional, but im just in one of those count-ur-blessings kinda mood)
heli, natasha, roshnee, sahirr, shahvan, sid, doriss,candy..... its been a blast...
(there r lots more... sorry to those i missed out.... i love u guys... :D)

what can i say...
its just great tht we're gonna get to spend the next 3 years together... cant wait...

-tanvi...
(ne1 who rags me abt this blog later will get a rod up their ass.... thou shalt post comments and those comments shall be nice, sweet ones.. if not then "rod". and its true.... i really love u guys....!!)

shades of grey

float.............drift..................upstream......................downstream........there are no feelings............ears open.................eyes open..........the mind vacant...................peace.............the space around you stretches into infinity.................stars and planets................beauty never was so beautiful.................senses are euphoric and time stood still...............but then we are invaded..........the mind,the senses and i.................we are all invaded................"It" envelops us...........a cacophony and euphony of noises and sounds.............a huge montage of images.............al kinds of joys and fears...............hate.................love.........here i am................never the same again.............where am i?...................what am i doing here?..................why must i feel like this?..................why is it all like this?.....................what does it mean?............what is my purpose?.................i was free.................i was alone.....................i was innocent and at peace.........now i am burdened..........filled with the extremes of hapiness and sorrow........i cant see the colours anymore...........i cant see black and white..............i can only see shades of grey.........nothing is right and nothing is wrong because the rules are not the same for everyone..................so am i happy or sad?...............is what im thinking good or bad?..................i dont know...............you dont know.....................we ll never know...................we are not meant to know....................we were meant to live...........i was hit by life..............it changed everything......................only the shades of grey remain

siddhant

FEAR OF THE DARK - shahvan

This is just something I came up with after watching lord of the rings at 3 in the night…some may find a lil of it clichéd

FEAR OF THE DARK

Im walking in darkness, wandering, looking for light, its out there somewhere, calling to me……….but I seem to have lost my way. The voice gets fainter by the moment. What is this darkness that encompasses me?? Is there really a light?? If there is one then am I meant to see it?? Or is it just a figment of my imagination?? Or maybe I am the light….waiting for me to happen to myself.
But strangely I find solace In this darkness…I figure I’m getting used to it. The more I look for light the more my faith that there is one decreases. This darkness now comforts me. I no longer fear it. I’m a part of it as it is a part of me.
I can no longer remember a smile, it is a comfort that now eludes me. Do I need help or am I too lost to be saved. I’m probably just a lost soul floating between heaven and hell, and it is only a matter of time before I realize………. I‘m now a part of hell…...Heaven was the light

-shahvan

A Movie And A Marketplace

Well I started off today thinking ill bust the balls off monster in law for which I unfortunately went because tanvi seemed to have an extra ticket. The movie BLEW. I mean I don’t think it could have gotten any worse…Jennifer lopez should realize that there are people who are good at multi tasking…there are people who can handle two careers at a time but she just isn’t one of them…she was an average singer…ok lets be fair a little more than average singer but she is the second worst thing to ever happen to Hollywood (the first being Britney spears)…I mean c’mon Robert luketic and paula winstein should know better…they first cast someone who I consider to be one of the acting greats in Hollywood namely Jane fonda and then they supplement her with someone who is barely an excuse for an actress…what were they thinking??? But strangely though there was one person in the theatre hall who was totally in love with JLO n what’s even stranger is that, that person was a she n what becomes more creepy than strange is the fact that, that she was a friend of mine. The very same friend with an extra ticket. She even went to the extent of admiring JLO’s neckline and *cough* assets.
I doubted the existence of the almighty every time a way past lame attempt to make the audience laugh was made……but a fun filled rickshaw ride after the film kinda made up for the rest.
But like I said the film is not the only thing im going to talk about today. Infact my main topic of discussion is going to be mohommad ali road...A world in itself and a very dirty one at that…my family took a CBI officer friend along with us to avail PARKING in no parking zones (u can only imagine the stares we recived). But one look at the gally I was supposed to enter and all I could do was look up and ask for divine intervention.the place was swarming with people…but that’s ok I can live with that what shocked the shit outta me was what they offered in their menu…..the bastards actually showed me a cage filled with the cutest partridges and asked me which one I would like to eat and that too whether I would like it with only masala or tandoori. Apart from that they also serve every possible organ (and I mean EVERY organ) of every possible filthy animal....and then to worsen things came IQBAL BHAI the fucker we had the biggest problem shooting with. The man just wouldn’t act n when he did he’d want to hurry stuff up. The bastard had the audacity to sit next to me and ask me if he could get a vcd of the film…well I don’t know about a vcd but there sure is some thing else id like to give him. So 4 phirnis,2 malpohas(excuse the spelling) and 1 iqbal bhai later(trust me 1is enough)…I realize that my stomach isn’t feeling to good...and every one knows that in a place like that a stomach upset is a predicament nothing can mitigate and sooo thankfully we rush back. What a day………a bad film with great company (and I seriously mean that), a screwed up dinning place with even further screwed up company except of course my family who helped me fight the boredom that is iqbal bhai (this may sound familiar to certain ppl) and a stomach upset.
Things couldn't get worse.

-shahvan

Nostalgia - Darius Mistry

Nostalgia

All it takes is a couple of hours of being bored at 3 am to put your entire life into a bit more perspective...

Wake up lazily at 6 am, eat one or two toasts with a morning coffee, and cram textbooks like Yuvakbharati, Sulabh Bharati, and Whorebharati into a dorky looking schoolbag, arrive at a stop just as the bus leaves, and chase it for four blocks on foot, while the kids in the bus cheered you on. Once you got on the bus you were united though, and spent the next half hour of the journey to school looking out for other school buses, chanting shit like “Bus number 4 Khatara Bus!!”

Spending every single second in that classroom through all the nine or ten Periods, wishing that you were someplace else, like outside tossing a Frisbee around, or playing football with the ten rupee rubber ball.

Or to cause just enough mayhem in a classroom that you’d manage to piss the teachers off but would still just get away with only a remark in the bluish grey calendar. Although the Pink Floyd incident could have landed me in suspension perhaps (if I had been caught *chuckles*)

Taking the mickey out of classmates for the smallest of things, teasing and getting teased about crushes and girls. Being apprehensive about even borrowing a book or a cassette from a girl you knew well. Hehehe

Who could forget Sports either…? Struggling with a heavy kitbag from GM (Gunne and Moore, not General Motors) filled with pads, gloves, abdo-guard (Safety first) and a heavy Larson’s bat in the middle of the afternoon in the sweltering sun. Feeling rally kicked if you got the new ball to bowl with in the nets as the coach tossed them out to us fast bowlers. Writing your name on the back of what used to be your last years white school shirt, in blood red ink, and feeling really pleased with your work even though some letters seemed larger and darker than other. Practicing forward defensive strokes and square cuts in front of a full length mirror back home, and fantasizing about a crowd at Wankhede cheering every shot. Friggin high hopes I know.

Guitar lessons every Wednesday afternoon to nice Catholic Rita Hubert Aunty, straight after school, lugging what has now become a very small and very sad black Hobner. Feeling spiffy about having mastered a new chord or a new riff, to go home and practice it for hours on end into the night, and then to progress into songs you love. Hunting on the internet for chords and saving them in text documents because you’re too lazy to actually fiddle on the guitar and find them for yourself aren’t you!

Tutions at Aldo Sir’s little row house in Sector 6, where everything was chilled if you toed the line and did what you were told. If you were good, you’d be rewarded with perhaps with some of his foreign chocolates stacked in his small Kelvinator refridgerators, or if you were really good, you could even share a meal with him and his wife and two daughters. If it was a Saturday morning, then she’d make the most exquisite masala dosas. There was something about having south Indian food that really helped me tackle Algebra and Geometry at his place. Algebra…a subject with so much hypocrisy. Giving you an equation or a set of numbers and letters in brackets and one above or below the other and squared or square rooted, or in sets. And at the top of the page in the question paper, the ONLY one word question that you would find in the entire school or in any school…Simplify! And every single time you look at it, you are thinking this looks simpler than anything it could look like after YOU have dealt with it. And if you didn’t toe the line, woe betide you.

Coming home at 4 or 5 in the evening, going for a quick and rather redundant shower, because 15 minutes after it, I’d be downstairs playing cricket with the colony kids. Here is where we’d add to the dictionary of the already vast number of Hindi gaalis. Words like Bhosadpappu were heard on a regular basis, if someone let a catch slip or the last man got clean bowled with one ball to spare and a run to win.

Coming home every day with bleeding knees and sore bones a couple of hours later, trudging up to my place, swearing that that time would be positively the last time I ever dived for a catch. My mother’s sigh as she opened the door with the Iodine and cotton in hand perfectly ready for my arrival, asking me patiently where it hurt most. My muffled yells as the tinctured iodine named Benzoin (a name that I feared as a kid) dipped in cotton, merged with my torn flesh and blood, creating a blackish brown mark. Watching a blackish green scab grow in that area over the next few weeks and eyeing it with the deepest self esteem and pride.

Of course if any injuries took place at school, there was always the RED Medicine, hehehe. The Red Medicine was nothing but a mercurochrome solution in a large old style dark brown large glass bottle that was stored in the teacher’s lounge. It was well, red…and it did nothing else. So of course, even for a small cut from say a sharp pin or any deep mark from a pen would tempt us to go for the red medicine. It gave out a fascinating odor to go with the color red. We’d apply clinically insane amounts of the stuff on knees, elbows foreheads and bandage them with white handkerchiefs so when we got back to class, it would look like we’d survived a war. The best part was, the Red Medicine, even though was used by virtually every student in the school at least once, was never kept locked or anything, and we’d see a new bottle virtually every week. The Red Medicine remained red on your skin for at least a week. So of course, at school it was fun and all, but when you walked home is when you’d only start to think about what your parents might say when you got home with blood red spots all over your body.

Family life was interesting as well. The brother and I were like generals waging war with our GIJoes and Cobra action figures. My favourite GIJoe was Snake Eyes. He was totally silent, never said a word, but goddamn could he do his work well. Among the Cobras I was in love with The Baroness. She was a hot chick in glasses with a black leather suit and a red cobra symbol imprinted on her tits. We’d make booby traps all over the house that would infuriate our parents with strings and wires. Of course Lego was also a very famous attraction. Castle Lego was the best. Fortresses four feet tall with defence towers facing each direction. It was really interesting to combine the two though. Making a GIJoe HQ with Lego pieces, and making their vehicles with TechNic. Painstakingly long, but rather worth it. And collecting the gizmos was fun too. I was most jealous when the youngest cousin bought the Skystriker jet, with attachable missiles and warheads and a detachable canopy.

*sigh*

It’s been a helluva long and interesting ride…

broken beyond

DISCLAIMER:warning this post is very mindfucking and insane, read at your own risk(its lovely really) if you dont understand contact:siddhant

The world is small, yet cosmic in the size of the minds that inhabit it. We are all linked one way or the other across seas and mountains, boundaries made by nature and man, we are all divided, we are all one. Seek the truth of existence and being and you will find we all have a story to tell. I want to share the story of a forgotten race of few who are aged and wise, those that go to lands and heights we have not dreamed of let alone dared.
The continent of Australia is vast and populated at first by a race, known as the aborigines. Before the English reached Australia, these people lived amongst the wild animals of the great bush steeped in knowledge of a culture known to be one of the oldest continuous cultures around. They have maintained the same beliefs for over 50,000 years. But this land of ageless customs, what truly interests me is their belief in the beginning, the creation of life. We have Adam and Eve, the Greek pantheon, and various other beliefs but what the aborigines believe in one can only feel as it is the most complex and human of all understanding. I speak of Dreamtime or the Dreaming, a great thought that stretches human faith, understanding and awe. Dreamtime is a central unifying theme that links all kinds of vast and simple relationships. It is tough to get right away but you will understand if you feel it. In the aboriginal view of the world, everything in the natural world is a result of the actions of the metaphysical beings whose actions created the world. The meaning and significance of particular places and creatures is wedded to their origin in the Dreamtime, and certain places have a particular potency, which the Aborigines call its dreaming. In this dreaming lies the sacredness of the earth. The Dreamtime is the era before the Earth was created, and a time when everything was spirit and not physical. The Dreamtime still exists and can be accessed for spiritual purposes. I m not one to dwell on the latter, spiritual elements are fine and all, but existence is all I need. But how I would love to imagine dreamtime. Great metaphysical beings creating lands and cultures by spirit. It is at this time I wonder about my dreaming. How would I be created by the dreaming? The answer is simple. My dreaming would be my essence, not a metaphysical being like a huge snake whelping me onto this earth.I try to imagine my dreaming, what spirits moved before the earth to create my ancestors, no physical things like skin, flesh, blood or bone just the spirit, the thought and the mind. My ancestors were created by the beings and thus they beget me. This is something too vast to understand, so I imagine my own personal dreaming and what I would be if the dreamtime were to happen again. I can imagine the spirits flowing around. I can see myself appear, in the shape of my beliefs, my nature, my passion. I can see the music become tangible and join me, the earth’s wisdom shape me, the elements sustain me and the love, finally create me. From the spirits of nothingness and meaning, I would appear from my dreaming. I am ready now, ready to soar through the world newly created. To keep me going, I am fueled by my hopes and ambitions and my seeking of knowledge and wisdom. I have finished my dreaming, I am whole and created. I have dreamt now and go now into the beyond. I know of many cultures and peoples and their beliefs, being an atheist myself I see no point in religion. Th truth is the dreaming is so pure yet so incredibly man-made it almost seems as though we have dreamed up our own existence. I no longer look back now, my dreamtime is over. It is time to look into the beyond, the broken beyond for the dreamtime may have ended but I will continue to live with the power of my dreams and humanity’s greatest gift, the iridescent mind.

siddhant(still dreaming)

The Periphery - Mini G

Within us were spirits soaring high and pumped up adrenaline,
And bearing the torch was Crazy Ol' Man with wisdom pristine.
Headed towards places seldom heard before- Satara & Baramati,
Clean toilets were what I prayed dearly to the Great Almighty!

We hired a couple of comfortable buses for the next six days:
Both unique in their own differing ways.
One with an undeterred musical soul,
The other saw some zestful tongues roll!

The proximal divide of the sexes is what Baramati saw,
Let's admit, it wasn't enough to dampen spirits raw.
There was a line of commonness between the separate wings,
In providing business to the brewery, we rose as Queens & Kings!

The guys witnessed their tottooed bassist go outrageous- the outcome,
They felt like commiting blasphemy in the sanctum sanctorum.
The gals touched the greatest heights of both sanity and insanity,
Bodies devoid of brains, haywire they danced and spoke with honesty.

With the industrial visit, a lucky threesome had their b'days overlapped,
The Craziest of Ol' Men with his benign gestures left us all direly zapped.
Gave us the pleasure of fighting over the final morsel of a sumptuous cake;
That moment, I am sure, for him, all willed to put their lives at stake.

Satara erased the line of divide between THE BOY and THE GIRL:
It surely killed the setting in of the primitive lull.
The berserk tractor ride gave the majority the feel of an amusement park,
While the fewer rest battled it out courageously in the dark.

The best of Uncle Fulghum's session awaited till the last morn,
Warm fuzzies, people let their backs adorn.
Of course the warmest of all are reserved for the Crazy Ol' Man,
Who lights the lives of our Whacky Young Clan!

Re-animate

This will be one of my more poignant ones so read it properly it will do you all some good. It all began on a hot October day, when last minute packing had just completed and with one foot began a trip of a million footsteps (literally). Appearing at the gates greeted by a monument, aged and learned, I knew I was in for a memorable time. I was not too happy leaving for this trip as I realized that my birthday would be spent doing something in some dopey little village. But being the resourceful villain I am I had made some “plans”. Yes it was illegal, evil and would definitely offend at least 10 different religions but that never stopped me before.
I set off and we traveled by bus, a tight gang of us missing some of our party as we were split up. The bus was sensational, as we tasted a bit of the camaraderie that was to follow. The first joint was rolled, and so began the great haze that was to follow for many of us. The music lifted us all instantly and it played well into the darkness. Looking out the window I saw Maharashtra in a different light, the sun flashed magnificently on a land, which was patched brilliantly with hues of green and brown. It shone proud like the people living on the land, hands and faces hard and happy. I looked around at the faces that surrounded me and saw the same doubts I had at first but soon the excitement and power of the journey got to them.
Even getting there seemed like forever but I did not mind at all. I was happy released from the world and its many factors, I was moving in a bus surrounded by great people why would I care? We reached Baramati and I was surprised by the amount it had developed, I mean I really expected a village. We split into rooms in the hostel and I went with my best friends around Darius and Shahvan. The first night was incredible and that was a serious clincher for telling us what would happen next. All us boys barring a few who preferred staying away and sleeping, sat in one room and drank a small bottle of vodka and smoked a few joints. The effect was life altering. It did not mean we all died due to seizures, it did not even mean we would be in any trouble, it just meant that we all saw each other differently thereafter. We had an incredible time extremely high and proud of ourselves. Lives unraveled in laughter and brotherhood filled the air.
The trip itself served as a journey to learn about life in various ways and as our guide, the man himself tried to set us off on a journey trough our own lives. I joined a college and have also got a place where my creative soul is freed. There were days of work and learning and seeing and meeting new people. The benefit of the experience after this trip has no doubt enriched us all. Seeing suffering and happiness in the lives of the nomadic children put more things into perspective although I have seen such kinds of suffering before. But on this trip I learnt more about myself, more importantly so did the people around me.
I am happy to say I carved my little niche in this class, this select group of people and their energies. I did not realize what I meant to these people till I read the sheets posted on my back. I loved it for many reasons, the complements, the memories and yes some of the crazy things people write about you (man! Were some of those inappropriate? I didn’t know some people felt that way about me!!) Apart from these matters on the trip it was the nights that defined us all. My birthday was an event I shall not forget! We were gone, all of us were gone and laughing our asses off ant each other. We saw Roop become the life of the party, the catalyst. We saw Matthew be the lovable instigator that he is. We saw the relaxed side of Darius let loose (totally this time). We saw Shahvan, quiet for more than half and hour and I’m not lying! Man if only I could remember them well thing is I cannot. I remember my birthday in the same haze as all those nights a cohesive unit having fun. I remember a monkey cap covering my eyes and people singing happy birthday to me in complete darkness (cause of the cap I mean). I however do not remember any pain or discomfort, only a white light and a feeling of flying, like it were heaven (I’m serious boys Roop’s words rang in my head and that’s what I saw!!). However my birthday itself seems to be a little bit of a let down, the day itself was marked with mistrust and a feeling of the unity dying, the soul of the trip was dying on us. Around us we could see all the people getting more than hazy, we could see them getting annoying. Things happened that night I wish not to recall, they seem better lost in the haze. The day after however, changed everything dramatically. There was trekking and some schools being visited, but an accident changed all that. The fellowship was born and with it so was the courage that we are given. We, the greats who stood against the mighty behemoth stranded there, saved the day. I mean it was fucking stuck there in an insane angle but I went in!! This time we worked for it. The nights presented many things to us, but greatest of all were the fireflies. Standing in the dark shoulder-to-shoulder getting the job done, watching small bursts of light appear and disappear, again and again. It was a long walk home and it really felt like the fellowship of the ring. The next day was the last and a bus ride I shall keep in memory for the feel of it all. One could remember the feeling as if it were happening right now. Smoking a few joints and letting the breeze of cool blow in through the window. You see around great people surrounding you again. These are the same people that were with you on this very same bus 4 days ago, but yet you will never see them the same way again. This feeling tickles your soul as the cold wind tickles your skin and you will never feel any better again. That’s why when Darius told me he never felt better I knew what he meant. It truly tells me something about people and the profound effects they have on each other, one man can change the lives of so many young souls; world-beaters in their own right and still not get recognized. I do not need to sing praises about my teacher for I know what honour is; the great deserve nothing less than great honour. People can change you remember that, experience can change you even more. Learn my friends what an ancient Chinese proverb stated many years ago, “ A journey of a thousand miles gives you more knowledge than reading a scroll of a thousand miles”. I think that we need to understand what It means to be together for the next 2 and a half years and we’ve only begun to discover legends in our midst. It is from here I leave you with a quote from the “my culture” by 1 giant leap. “ I am the sum total of my ancestors. I carry their D.N.A. This long line of people that come from around everywhere! And when we meet they meet other lines of people and so they say let us bring together the lines of men.” it was on this trip I became a man and it is one this trip that some of my greatest experiences linger boding well for my long future…with my friends(how i wish how i wish you were here!!!! we re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year. Running over the same old ground. What have we found? the same old fears? Wish you were here..)

Siddhant (codename: pinky the birthday boy you maelia!!!)

Industrial Visitors Unite! - Darius Mistry

Owing to the fact that I have a reputation as a tight-lipped hard-ass that has a lot of dignity and carries himself in a proper manner, I shall at least pretend to keep my excitement under wraps while I describe the events that unfolded at Baramati and Satara.

*Glug, glug, glug* .............*urp*


Right, now that the niceties are out of the way, fuck dignity! THE LAST 6 DAYS WERE THE SHIAT! THEY OWNED ME! THEY OWNED YOU! THEY OWNED ALL OF US! AND I REALLY REALLY LIKE THE CAPS LOCK KEY RIGHT NOW!

So where would you like me to begin, me hearties?!
Would you like me to start at the incredibly asinine humorous bus rides we all had together?

OR would the beginning include our tirades at the institute at Baramati, or would we start at the forming of the New Fellowship, or keeping a bawa from cooking a live chicken running on the street coz he hadn't had non-veg in a week...(we all know who I'm talking about here)

Yes, yes you are curious aren’t you...Fairness demands that I start right at the top, at the beginning.... The mouth, and then I'll slowly...move downwards towards your....

*COUGH COUGH! *

Right, got carried away there!

So we set off all together, a merry band of 60 odd students from Wilson College. There were 2 "busses" as my young colleague in arms has described in the post below. As shit would come to shovel, we had a friggin long bus ride just to get out of the city, but we didn't really mind it too much. Guitar, over 5 people at the back competent enough to play it, shitloads of driving songs, a stereo system, with speakers that sounded like 12 drunken cats in an alley. I pulled my seat backwards and prepared for a long ride. And by God, it was long...

We got to Baramati in pitch-blackness of 10 30 pm that night, after jingling and jangling our intestines together with a rather rough bumpy set of roads. Plans were already being made about how the night would proceed. It was 3 per room, so as friggin usual, me Shahvan and Siddhant in one room. And what a room it was. Graffiti on one end reads the words "Manali"
and the opposite wall reads, Salman Khan". Because I am destined to a life of misery and someone up there insists on testing me, my bed was closer to Salman Khan than to Manali.
We opened our bathroom door to see what it might look like. Not pretty. The commode was a sorry excuse for a crapper! The seat was missing, and in its place were drones of lizards and cockroaches.
The lizards and cockroaches and grasshoppers in question were one sly bunch of muthas. They waited till we had left the room, and then they decided to spread themselves ALL over it! They came hard at us, but we stood strong and resilient through the night. They came harder! We stood stronger...and then they came really really hard, and so we got bored and just stood out in the corridor.
The night was spent with around 20 people packed into one room. Now let's look at ape mentality here for a second. 20 young men, 3 beds, 2 chairs, unlimited supply of cigarettes, a bottle of White Mischief, and the guitar...one heck of a party yes? Do I really need to describe anything? You know us well enough! You know the kind of shit we might say and do till around 3 30 am, right?

I guess the high point of Day 1 would have to be the purging throat of Candy a.k.a. Vinayak. For the entire night, this sorry excuse for a paparazzi cameraman did nothing and said nothing to anyone all night. Then the White Mischief was passed into his hands. Call it gut instinct, but when this happened I sort of warned him not to take too much. These amateurs need to know how to handle stuff neat. He tells me to chill, but I still watch him anxiously. The poor young bloke! If only he had listened to reason. He opens the cap with a swagger, extends his head all the way up and takes a LARGE swig (probably the first swig that size in his life) . I smirk to myself...I tried!

I announce loudly, this man is FUCKED! And naturally everyone turns to see. Oh HOW I wish I could describe what happened next so well, that you have the exact image in your minds for the rest of your lives. But Im only human. Well, he looks at me in dismay, mouth full and in his eyes he's trying to tell me, No Im not! I am a man! I am immortal to liquor! I am..I am...I am..oh...godd!
and he collapses! And so does the entire room, into fits of laughter.

I don't remember much of what happened the rest of the night, but that is a good thing, I think.
The next 2 days were filled with sessions, songs, excursions into laboratories, a rather one-sided race with Reinhardt, a poha breakfast, a visit to a sugar and grain, factory and silo respectively. As much as some people may disagree with me, I really enjoyed every single session of his you know. As Riya wrote, in whatever little way, there are a lot of things in what he says that we can and must apply in our own lives. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the last session! Sharad Pawar session was also quite educational to say the least. I got to hear the man speak and I will admit that I had given him less credit than I normally give him when his mug is on television. The last night in Baramati was much the same as the first. High points? Roop’s half hour long monologue, which I won’t get into at this point, giving birthday bumps to Siddhant at midnight, and almost setting Guru’s hair on fire.

Right, onwards onto Satara. There was a lot more activity at this place certainly. Let’s start with my room shall we. We won’t spend too long in there, its too small. Again, because some unknown force of either religion or energy is testing me, so I get the ONE bed in the whole friggin lodge that has a large metal pipe going from one end of the room out the window over it.

The toilet is charming. A shit and a shower at the same time. Not only do you have to wipe your ass after you’re done, you’d be required to wipe and dry your clothes as well. A flush for the 21^st century.

The hike was really most enjoyable. I was rather amused to see a few people walking backwards up a hill. It looked kinda retarded really. I harboured quite a number of fantasies about going downhill on a skateboard.

That day was probably the most tiring for all of us. I think it was the first time that we were all of us asleep in the bus. Sudhakar is a machine. I don’t know where he got the energy to keep us all together. And yes, to anyone who thinks that he was too hard on us, or what he did was useless, you suck. That man has done nothing but help us from day one. When push comes to shove, when you are in your darkest hour, he is probably the only one that can help you.

Well, I guess when there is such an enjoyable trip; it isn’t really complete without the presence of a few downs as well. The bus breaking down (or should I say up) was a major blow to our plans of Mahableshwar. A tractor to fit 50 odd people does not really sound too comfortable. But in a crisis, one must make do with what one has, doesn’t one. I’d like to point out here that for the first time ever I felt sickened at the attitude of our class. At the turning of the bus breakdown corner, even though the man was clearly under a lot of stress, he was forced to herd people like cattle, telling them to hurry up, making sure they were moving. It looked really bad, and I sincerely hope it never happens again. Anyways, a few of us (Siddhant, Hakim, Matthew, Karan, Lenin, Joslin, Jayesh and myself) decided to stay with him and help him out if there was any work required. I think it was a good move on our part, because he did certainly laugh at most of our jokes as we waited under the tree for the tow truck to arrive. I really don’t know from what depth in my ass I pulled off the energy to work through that evening. At around 7 or so, we were all quite tired, sweaty and irritable. We managed to rescue the bags from the fucked up bus (Siddhant was our guinea pig to get into it) even with Lenin’s pointless and annoying squeals to “check the overhead compartments” as well. I was at cracking point by the time we got done with that. So much so that I had a minor disagreement with Matthew that could have made things pretty bad. We soon settled everything though, and it’s all cool now. I even shared a beer with him that night.

It was on the last morning that I think I had most calm and collected thoughts, I think. I took a walk at around 3 30 all around the entire circle of Satara outside the lodge, just exploring. A lot of echo points discovered. I again marvelled at the amazing planning Sudhakar must have done the previous night. To come up with such a spanking session to end the trip with. Although I’d love to meet the person who wrote that I am a good singer. Oh and more importantly, someone thinks I need braces. Something to think about indeed!

But it was on the bus back home on the expressway that I had my most silent thinking moments. When I battled paralysis from the neck down on the bumpy Satara roads, when I was sitting at a window seat with friendly people all around me, singing soft songs, when the dusk settled over the highway as our journey came to an end in that complete comfortable silence, was when I realised what this trip was all about. It wasn’t about drunken debauchery, or partying all night, or looking at factories or anything. It was about people, about all of us. We found ourselves, our places and our identities wherever we went. Some of us found each other, and I’m very happy for those who did (you know who I refer to). I got to know a few more people in our class really well. This whole thing was one of the most brilliant experiences of my life.

And I’d like to quote something from Jerry Bruckheimer’s Bad Boys 2 now

“We ride together, we die together….Bad Boys (and Girls) for life."

Of Maelias, Tractor rides and The Crazy Old Man.

I’m sitting in my room, looking around and wondering why all of a sudden there’s this stagnant feeling all around. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I didn’t wake this morning scrambling to go to have a bath before 25 other girls could get there first. I didn’t wake to a stupid alarm and sudhakar’s fist on the door. I didn’t wake to see aparna, avanti and stuti all curled up, blissfully unaware that we were late. I didn’t wake with a feeling of anticipation at the pit of my stomach, thinking of what the day was going to be like.
[Sighs deeply].
Six days ago, I wondered how I’d get through this trip without biting someone’s head off at the end of it all. Now, I’m wishing to hell it wasn’t over so soon. Whether it was the hooligan-ish hooting on the bus, with Matthew asking random[bewildered] people “Dilli aaya kya?” or painful visits to sugar mills [where everything went over my head and the smell of fermenting rum [or was it molasses?] nearly had me throw up in the guide’s face, I MISS EVERYTHING about the trip.
Those poor, poor students of the engineering college probably never knew what hit them. Their wonderfully quiet, cultured, peaceful, [maybe even boring] lives were interrupted by a loud, crazy, ill-mannered, colourful bunch of people who thought they were walking through their living rooms. Even the community center was ‘all shook up’ when a few brave souls from class decided to have a post-dinner ice-cream. That little decision on our parts gave the community center people the shock of their lives. Poor souls. They’re ears are probably still recovering from the decibel levels of that night.
The gossiping, the bitching, the major and minor fights, and the seamless patching up [you DO know who I’m talking about, don’t you?] all contributed in making this trip one hell of an experience.
Even the crazy old man’s sessions were memorable, though at the time, I’d have given anything to be able to sleep. The best one, was undoubtedly the last ‘warm fuzzies’ one. What with people bending over in long chains to enable others to write random things like [‘very well-behaved in eco class’ and ‘sweet, nice, cute, cool’ ] on their sheets, and Jeremy strutting around looking like an angel of some sort with paper-wings on his back [HE HAD FIVE SHEETS!!!!], it was a bloody awesome session.
My vocabulary now includes words like ‘maelia’ and ‘madar-bablu’, the meanings of which are still very unclear to me, but they are highly amusing to hear or see as the latest nicknames on msn.
Also, the female bonding sessions deserve special mention. [Not BONDING bonding, you perverts : ) ] I mean the awesome talks and getting-to-know each other sessions we women had at the hostel, where many issues were dealt with and where we actually got to KNOW and like people instead of just saying so. Not to mention the randomly, crazily FUN dancing sessions that also took place. I’ll violate the secrecy rules if I say any more, so I’ll shut up now.
Then there was the retard bus-driver who was responsible for screwing up our trip completely. Then again, it gave some of us the river-bathing opportunity where Joslin seems to have created a record number of falls within an hour. [I’m just stating a fact, NOT poking fun at him. I really think the guy deserves a break. Please lets give it to him.]
Also, would we have had that immensely scary, wonderfully FUN tractor ride, if it wasn’t for that bus incident?? That is something I will not forget as long as I live. I think I’ll tell my grand-kids about it. The sheer idiocy of the situation didn’t fail to amuse me; 50-odd people on a tractor, with nothing to hold onto, YELLING at the top of their lungs, scaring the shit out of the poor farmer households lining the road, and at the end of it all, actually WISHING we could climb on once more and go someplace else. For that poor soul who was driving, we were the stuff nightmares are made of.
I have to mention that I am really proud of all the guys who decided to stick with Sudhakar that night. Apart from walking for an hour in the dark, and carrying bags all the way, they stayed and gave Sudhakar the moral support he needed. My heart went out to the guy when he sat down under that tree, all alone and miserably dejected when the bus got stuck. I’m sure he was thankful for the guys’ presence. Doris, Siddhanth, Karan, Matthew, Hakim, Jayesh, Joslin, Lenin….. You guys ROCK. The best part is, I didn’t hear a SINGLE guy whine or crib about it.
Another thing that deserves special mention is the Wagon-r ride back to the hotel. There were 9 of us in there, and nobody knew their limbs from anyone else’s. What with one person feeling nauseous, someone else experiencing a severe full-bladder crisis, and one person actually raising the point that we might be abducted and pushed into the flesh-trade, its a wonder we all reached in one piece, with our sanity intact. When a casual passer-by saw 9 people tumbling out of that deceptively tiny-looking car, the look on his face made me wish I had a camera so I could look at it everytime I needed a good
laugh.
Then came the card-games. Mafia-nights were pretty good fun. It was Matthew’s brain-child and it really kept us entertained those two nights at Satara. For further details on the game, contact Matthew himself, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to explain it to you, hurl abuses at you in between and then play it with you in the end.
My admiration and respect for Sudhakar has gone up ten-fold. Not that it needed any major boosting anyway. I’m personally ready to take on any of the brainless females who were bad-mouthing him that last night at dinner. The man is on a never-ending mission to make us better human-beings, above anything else and that’s something I really love about him. He really is an important person in my life and though we don’t see it now, I think in the long run, when we graduate, EVERY trip he takes us for, EVERY session, EVERY pointless discussion we have with the man, will have helped us in some way or the other. I don’t think I’ve ever learnt this much in four months. Come to think of it, I doubt I’ve exerted myself this much for any projects anytime before. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a class with so many wonderful, amazingly talented, FUN people. This trip really has been the stuff memories are made of. And the best part is, there will be many more just like this. And what with a wonderful professor, a pretty good course, and a wild, crazily quirky yet beautiful bunch of people, I think this class is reallllly going places.


ri

THOSE WERE THE BEST DAYS OF MY LIFE - the industrial visit of 2005

Most people generally think INDUSTRIAL VISIT and Fun, Excitement n Adventure don’t come in the same sentence……well they’re right it doesn’t…UNLESS……..you are a part of fybmm class of Wilson and have the bestest professor ever taking you.(excuse the grammar couldn’t come up with something better than the best).
Now lets go about 6 days back in time to 7th October the day we left for our industrial visit to baramati and satara. All our bags were packed, We were ready to go. In the morning I went and submitted my short film which was sooooo fuckin awesome my joy got a headstart. Our meeting time was around 1:00 and true to my nature I reached there at about 1:30 and true to the colleges nature the bus didn’t leave before 2:00.
We had hired 2 busses for the trip ours contained most of the rock music lovers and two guitar players…in short the more lively part of the class considering all people did in the other bus was sleep and watch movies (ok that’s not so bad as well :p).well the journey was fun……for the first four hours then the fun level slowly began dropping until Fun turned into frustration and an incredible amount of laziness. finally after 9 long hours we reached baramati, our first destination.
We were put up in hostels at VIIT (vidya samant institute of information technology…not to be confused with IIT) we were 3 in a room so obviously me n my 2 best buddies dorris and sidd shared one. Our days were filled with industries and our nights were filled with cigarettes and drinks (obviously illegally).so its little wonder that our nights were better than our days. And to top it all we had a friend who’d get high with even a small sip of OLD MONK n ohh man was he funny we he was drunk hed take everyone’s case n everyone even let him cuz he was sooo fuckin hilarious we laughed all the way from 10:00 pm-3:00 pm…ohh n jus for the record incase some people are wondering the booz was sponsored by our vey own sidd. It was his bday on the 9th but generous soul that he his he sponsored the drinks for the entire trip n in turn we gave him a birthday he’d never forget(cheers again sidd). But to give the days a little credit id say the industries we visited taught me a lot about rural India. Infact on the morning of the day we left for satara we had an interaction session with SHARAD PAWAR, a very knowledgeable politician who has a great deal of influence on baramati (incase a certain sahirr is still a little doubtful).
After 3 wonderful days we left for satara. The journey there was shorter but excepting for the location the lodge we were put up in sucked. I say location because the lodge had a wine shop in its freakin compound. So when we entered the place I thought id died and reached heaven, but the moment I got into my room I realized that heaven was any place but there. I mean the room was the size of a prison cell and that too a very decrepit one.
Our bathroom was the eighth wonder of the world, because when u pulled the flush the water came out of a freakin hole in the wall just next to the pot so along with your feaces it’d wash u off as well. Its was like taking a dump and having a shower at the same time.
But again that dint stop us from partying….I guess where there’s a will there’s a way… We scouted for a friends room which was bigger than ours since they were 4 in a room. Our first night contained the same type of enjoyment there and our days the same type of industries.
It all went well till the evening of the afternoon of the second day when we went to visit the fields of some nomadic tribe school. We were to see the farms n then head to a waterfall. Soo we got done from the fields and climbed into our respective busses but as fate would have it the front right wheel of the bus in front of us got stuck in a big ass ditch kinda thing. Soo the macho students in that bus got down n tried to push it out but ended up pushing it futher into the ditch….we were told we had to wait there till a crane arrived because the road was soo small that even the second bus couldn’t leave until this one was moved. So me n a few pals sneaked out of there to a nearby river……we were hot……….we were tired…..and…we were bored so 3 guesses as to what we did next. Within a span of 10seconds all 5 of us were topless and into the chilled water. man that was an experience u don’t get in Mumbai. We were joined 15 minutes later by our entire goddamn class. The guys jumped in while d chicks just wet their legs and took snaps pf the guys swimming n burnt in jealosy cuz GIRLS with clothes on + WATER doesn’t really equal up to a whole lotta fun for them. We finished our swim n got back only to find that the crane still hadn’t arrived n we would have to go to the school by tractor and wait till it did. So a few guys stayed back with sir while the rest headed to the school (I wanted to stay back but sir said he wanted me to take care of the chicks so…………:p)
We reached the school n were extremely bored, so we decided to look around n what do we see a DHABA which actually served eggs…I dint mention this earlier but throughout the trip we were served nothing but veg food that could make me hurl n there wasn’t even a restaurant that served non vegetarian food around the places that we were put up in and I starved cause if there’s one thing I cant adjust to its not having non vegetarian food.soo u can imagine my surprise when I saw eggs. I had 4 omelets with 7 buns and cutting chai….whew was I satisfied…well the other guys got back walking since the crane wouldn’t come until morning and were famished n thirsty…unfortunately all they got to eat was farsan since the DHABA had shut by then.*sighs with sadness*(sorry doriss but the* kinda fit the occasion so thought id use them). We were sent back to a restaurant near our lodge in the school pricinciple’s cars (god bless his soul) which made about 5 trips till it got us all there.
We ate n went back to our lodge now booring people n loosers would say they were tired and would hit the sack but we weren’t one of them now were we…so as expected we partied again.in the morning we had the best session ever where each person in class had to put a blank sheet of paper on their back n whoever had anything nice to say to that person had to go n write it on that sheet I must say I was more than touched I never expected so many people to say gud stuff about me…some of the writings were a little creepy though but were fun all the same.
We left there at 1:pm and reached here at 9:pm. We had a ball on the way back as well since we managed to sneak in a bottle of old monk into the bus as well. I know I sound like a drunkard n all but trust me this trip brought out the drunkard In me n put it back to sleep the moment the trip got over n plus im BAWA so its very rare that I get drunk (mind blowing capacity).Reached home, took the best dump ever, had a hot bath and then had chilly garlic prawns for dinner.
WAT a trip *sighs again* I miss it man…I reely reely miss it. But im sure ill have many more especially as long as I have my friends and mr sudhakar with me. That man's a genius hes like the coolest n best sir iv ever had.U know a friend once told me that in all ur life there will be one person who will always influence n inspire u…in my case that could ne no one except Mr sudhakar I luv u sir WE all luv u.

-shahvan