I have been studying and giving exams for over 17 years now. Ok probably not for the last four … but pretending counts …. I have a degree to show for it. Next year my education is going turn adult. Some of you left your education at the tender age of 16 (12yrs of school + 4 of college), which probably explains why its getting screwed at your workplace right now.

Others have taken it upon themselves to mother their education right through its twenties. Like an overprotective parent their education will spend its best years with them doing Phds n post doctorates when it could have been out drinking beer n picking up the hotties at the local bar. A 19 yr old literature masters … psychology … arts … drama .. so many young educationins wasted.You are going to have to let go of your education sometime … start preparing now.

Of course some of the people are going to keep their education hostage right through their lives. Phd … post doctorates … Fellowship … Assistant Prof.  … these are the Josef Fritzl of education. They are unable to let go and quite unwilling too.

I have decided next year is going to be the last year .. I am going to give exams or little tests … quizzes or whatever little obnoxious name they have at each place. For too long I have spent concentrating on mine and my neighbour’s sheet those 10 minutes while the suspicious invigilator lurks around ready to pounce. I don’t care anymore …. and from the recent marks in quizzes … neither does my neighbour. After its 18, my education can go somewhere else fending for itself while I get down to business of real work. Oh no … you don’t need education for that .. they have their own training programs.

There is a new hobby I picked up. It involves generous lending of your laptop to someone and taking it back before they remember to log out of gmail etc. Exploring chats you often come across some interesting conversation that gives you a lot of leverage later on. This is my subtle way of getting back at the people who use my room as a stopover station, making a mess of it, borrowing my cap and not returning it, sleeping in my bed and using my blanket.

Now don’t tch tch my post in your head, I am sure you would do the same, if you had a chance that is. We all have our vicarious pleasures – overhearing mess conversations, refreshing orkut scrapbooks of other people, snooping on phone messages but I digress. And its not one way, I have been on the other side too. But the guys who tried impersonating me, couldn’t do anything interesting though or find anything damning. It made them sad. Although after deep contemplation, it made me kind of sad too.

The chief perpetrator of this act was a guy, whom for lack of a better word we will henceforth address as Billa. Billa of course slipped up the very next day when he borrowed my laptop for some mail checking. I promptly scanned his chats and hit paydirt on the very first page. The chat had everything, graphic abuses, solicitation, coochie coo talk – you get the picture …. Halfway through the laugh riot, Billa realized what I was doing and resigned to his fate decided to join in the fun. I got the whole story, character sketches, situations, the paneer tikka incident etc etc. But this is nothing compared to the chat of flirtaholic I read a while back. This guy was something else entirely. The fact that there was a phenomenal deconstruction of his own life just after claiming that he didn’t discuss his private life with anyone took contradiction to a whole new level. There is a lot you can learn from this guy, not the least of which is persistence. It takes something to keep extending a chat even when the other one wants to bail out. The chat was a lesson on so many levels that for a while I thought of making it my wallpaper, so whenever there is time, I could just absorb the greatness by looking at it.

Now that its out in the open, people would be more careful in my room I guess. Or atleast stop stealing my clothes, I hope. But now that each one of knows what others are capable of, we have all changed our passwords and hiked up security.

So there was this guy calmly enjoying his double scoop strawberry ice-cream, minding his own business after a hard days work when the unthinkable happened. Eyes jaded from staring at excel sheets and intellect dumbed down from all that improbable love scenarios featuring him and random ladies playing in his head, he initially registered only a pair of 34 Cs staring at him from about 3 feet away. That’s when she did it. Made a smoke ring and blew it in his face. The only sound heard next was the cracking of the cone and subsequent release of trapped strawberry fluids in all directions. The guy became so excited he didn’t even notice the boner he had as he jumped around the cafe imagining all sorts of alignments of human bodies.

He ran to his work station and pinged his friend Mahal and told him the whole story. Mahal concurred it was indeed a very strong signal from the smoke lady and that the guy from FuPigma had finally arrived in the big boys league. The story spread like wildfire and soon all those who heard it had boners too. Half the college recruits in Bangalore that day were walking around with twigs in their pants and a prayer on their lips. The guy from FuPigma had become their new messiah. They all envisioned their own glory day when someone would blow in their face. Possibilities were endless. Soon the story became viral and ad agencies picked up the fad. So we had Axe showing the guy choking as endless swarms of smoking women thronged around him. Cigarette Conglomerate saw their sales rise as never before as blowing smoke in each other face became the new “asking out for coffee”.

Sounds a little unbelievable right. It did to me too. But try telling that to Rohit Pande.

Some things never change. Tarantino’s movies still run chapter-wise, I still score majority of my grades in 6s and Gaurav Sharda still makes spelling mistakes in his blog. Nowadays, I am at a place where people send birthday mails to the whole batch inviting everyone to puncture someone’s ass. No worries except all these mails come inevitably packaged with  gay poems that deliberately end in odd words in order to make them rhyme. Otherwise this town is awesome, lots of cool hangouts that I have never hung out at, amazing restaurants I haven’t had the pleasure of going to and lots of hot girls who don’t go out with me. Oh I am having the time of my life doing an MBA.

I am not in touch with many of my friends. Unfortunately I am not good at inventing subjects to talk about. I don’t want to know how the work is – I know its crap , you know its crap .. what’s the fucking point in discussing that. But I see your name in my gtalk list , green or red doesn’t matter … I am reassured .. someday when we have something worthwhile to discuss I won’t miss out on you. I see many of you on facebook everyday, sharing videos and photos and cryptic in-jokes in your status messages. I enjoy reading the updates, but resist commenting for the fear of starting a pointless conversation that I wont know how to end.

I miss a lot of things that I was used to earlier. Soaps and Books for one. I haven’t the slightest clue what dexter is upto these days or whether Barney screwed Ted’s wud-be-wife yet. My taste in movies has deteriorated alarmingly … I have seen Blue, Do knot disturb and All the best after paying 200 bucks for each. 7 hours of my life I will never get back.

Share my room with 3 other guys here. Which complicates things in a big way. Fun activities have to be properly scheduled and planned and schedule shared a week ahead in advance. That’s probably the only managerial thing I have done until now.

I am thinking of renaming the blog since the current one is not justified anymore. One, I am not ‘up at night’ owing to the obedient son persona I have been bullied into at home and secondly I am not in the Campus Goo-haute anymore. The farewell to Guwahati was quick and simple…. akin to tearing off a bandage, one day I ship my baggage, the next day I am off to the airport having said a quick goodbye to friends.

Goodbye can be an inordinately long drawn out affair. I dont think a very sobby emotionaly rich goodbye is a guy thing so we tend to avoid that. A hug , a thump on back and a promise to see everyone in Delhi seems to be the expected norm. It was anyways pretty hot so even the hugs were not of the ursine variety … more of a chest apart quickie with our heads having some sort of bobbing motion sideways, indicating we indeed had a very good time with the other guy.

Saying goodbye to the Institute is another thing though… you have a proper procedure to say ‘Bye Bye’ to everyone from the Workshop Uncle you met in first sem to the Supervisor who finally signs your BTP report. Every bureaucracy prides itself on these little ego trips … the more the number of signatures you have to attain to get rid of them, the more proud they are.

Staying at home is boring especially if you feel the need to download the latest episode of ‘Big Bang Theory’ every monday. I look forward to the day I join MDI and reclaim my lost routine again.

Our beloved Prof. Pinko is finally moving on… to IISc. Apparently he’ll be opening a Ghumakkad Dept there too. Just like he did here. Just imagine, Pinko moving around in his shocking pink ride around IISc causing a flutter in the hearts of female scientists for miles around. Or hitting the night clubs after a hard days work of emailing and networking. His lazy eye scanning the bar for people who he can suck up to and flaunt the contacts thereafter.

How he managed the lucrative proposition is still unknown but then Pinko has contacts few can boast of. And we were wondering whether Pinko was aspiring for more administrative position here itself. The man had other ideas though. Interested would know how much he knows about ghoomna-ghumana… zilch zero.. some straight speaking dude from obama-land molested his Phd thesis in front of an audience an year back. Reports have it Pinko ran from the room like a hare leaving his guide to do all the defending. Then there are his claims that he can get people internships and jobs at his whim.. because you know “CONTACTS” .

Then there is the fascination with gaudy pink. First the ride, then the house.. the list goes on to where I dread to tread. Unconfirmed reports suggest he bought a pack of pink chaddis for the campaign but liked them so much, refused to part with them on the campaign day.

Even as mere mortals wonder and seethe in jealousy, Pinko’s juggernaut rolls on. IITG -> IISc -> …. US Univ (UCB anyone )

I have finally spewed enough testosterone all over this site that these people have now been convinced of my rugged manliness that stems from the very core of the idea which has spawned this blog into whatever form it has taken at this very moment.

That is all one lives for really. Writing self indulgent obnoxiously long sentences and browbeating stupid sites into conceding.

Take a look again

Yeah they earlier called this site was written by a woman until I beat the shit out of them with my love-gun.