fairy tale

you don't call it a day, it's the night, basically, when tarun akash woke up. What i was feeling was like surgery recovered guy. My limbs seemed so week that i couldn't even get up and sit.

Sit? I couldn't even move my neck, so my eyes were fixed on the wall clock showing, 8:30

''how're u feeling Minkoo'', mammi inquired.

oh god, can any one tell me what happened?

I was so puzzled , obviously, i was?

i was seeing at a lady's eye, and it took me two minutes to realise that she is my mother,

''minkoo, what happened?, are u alright?''

What happened?...............................exactly,,what the fuck happened to me?.........this question was enough to pressurised my brain, to blow the fuse,,i am unconsious again.

Next time, i opened my eyes, i saw a head, i can't see the rest of the body,,,he asked,,,''how are you my friend?''

Who, this guy, what he is doing here in my home..........:.........................wait, it isn't my home,,,,, it's a fuck'n hospital.

''who are you?'', i asked my new friend.

Reply came as'' for the last 16 days, i'm taking care of you, here in this hospital, and what you tell me,,,who are you?''

Seriously,,,sixteen days?...,.........

The question rised again ''who are you?''

''tell ya, i'm your friend'', he smilled

Here, i'm confused plus pissssed and this unknown friend is playing jokes with me?

I somehow, gathered the power to speak few more lines.............''hey Mr, i don't know ,what you are talking about, but, it looks as you can tell me what the story is''

''you tell, minkoo'', reply came.

''see, i'm lying on this bed, for the last 17 days, without knowing, what thw heck, happened to me''

''So'', he told

''so, tell you fuckin idiot what the fuck, made me like this'',,,i shouted as my patience broke out.

And unconsiousness followed me, again.

I dreamt, of strange things,,haven, hell,,,a guy with hidden face, ........missing my train,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,i'm stabbed by a little girl...................................phew!

Suddenly, i my eyes got opened,,,and this time, i felt some , energy,,,,,,maybe, because of that, glucose bottle that is getting drained into my nerves,,,,,i could sit for the first time to see it,,,

A lady, appeared before me, she wasn't my mother,,,i'd do anything to see her.

''where is mammi'', i asked that lady,.....

''she is outside'', she said,

''Call her'', i said with a crumbled voice.

She came, and i was like,, somehow holding my tears,,,which i couldn't....i hugged her, like i never did..........

''it's alright, minkoo, your a very brave boy,,'', she said,

''how, i got here, mammi'',

''you were hit'', she said as if i get hit on monthly basis.

''Who did it?'', i asked

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………I woke,up and saw my room before my eyes,………………………………………………………………………..asked mammi,” when did I came from hospital”

“which hospital” mammi answered..............................................................

my closest dream to reality.......phew

random

I don't want to break the trust of ashok, but, I can't digest what he shared with me, today. I hope, it's not going to affect our friendship............not at least for a girl.

I 'm writing exactly what ashok has written in his diary, locked in his briefcase,

How you understood the physics of ashok's life.

Have ever loved anyone? You must have.

it'd be your mother, brother or wife(didn't included father, because we fear them, not love'em, I do)

Must be someone you know about, you trust.

Ask me? Ya, I’m blessed with power of loving too.

But maybe, my answers wouldn't be logical as above.

Also, my parents aren't so much in my love list,

Actually mistake is mine, i take'em for granted,,, and they let them be 'granted'.

After all I am the typical spoilt boy, you'd find.

Ok, the thing is that I love my papa and mammi, but, sometimes it’s unfair to count river with seas ( don't start testing my humor, now ).

No need to say that the 'sea' would be a girl.

But wait! Don't leave it as if you are going to get another boyfriend-girlfriend story.

Though, I wish the lines were true, at least to some extent, even just to 'friends'.

Confused? Right!

So let me ask, at what age would you choose your bride?

24? 30?

This boy was thirteen, when he chose his.

Don't blame me, or admire me for it..................I have this mental problem.......you call me psychic, demented or any other word suitable for a mentally challenged guy,,,,,,,,,,you see, i admit it, what else should I call myself, when i don't even find a porn exciting,,,,

I think there should be standardized test for it, see porn and if you don't feel something in you pants, then surely there is problem, either with your upper part of the 'lower part'.

Oh ...I think, I was writing about 'love’, don’t know where the hell did this 'pant' came from,,

May be a consequence of my focus lacked writing.

now, what I was telling that this girl, not only trashed my mind but also my 'lower part' feelings........means you don't even look at super sexy girl, when she wears only two pieces( don't ask me, how I observed this)

It's time to tell ...........her name is RUCHIRA ROY,,,,, the girl which is the 'sea'.

Funny thing is that( or call it ridiculous), that this girl, for which I am ready to through my life, is nothing but a name and face for me,,,,,,,,,,that's the only thing i can u about her if someone asks, when I'd be committing a suicide.

Wholly mad this boy is, who decided to marry a girl, first at 13 years, second to a Bengali girl ( i hate Bengalis, except this one).

It's quite certain that my stupid dream is never going to get fulfilled, but still..........

It's not that i didn't got a chance to know her,....I got enough...actually three years, ,,,we were classmates at school. And i let the chance flow away with those three years. But,... you say,.. what would I do,,just like a moron, go and tell her ''hey, ruchira,,how are you? '' or stand on my knee and give her rose, saying'' I love you''.......in that case I wouldn't expect more than a slap.

She wouldn't slap me, I'd be lucky in that case,,,other well-wishers are there to go physical.

The only conversation, happened between us is

'' is this your ruler, ruchira''

And she moved her head, glorifying all her beauty before me.

And it all began,,,,curse that ruler,, thing that is meant to be used for studying..........distracting this boy from studies only, .......god knows how I cleared iit- jee,and aieee, .I think I am the best talent any one can find in this country,,,,how many guys up there in nit trichy( not talking about those sliky-bilky, who got here due to some sakaari parcha showing that you got 50 % seats for you), would be like me.

Those here with me, they seem to be like ''kool dudes'' but, see into their pasts, you'll see nothing but two inches thick glasses focusing on the two hundred inches thick bundle of paper, but with me,,,,,I was just roaming in my mind-made world having me, ruchira and our children, living in our four bedroom flat''

Just, imagine, how insane was I(actually, still I am), and make your imagination wilder, by assuming that this same 'insane' thing helped me, getting JEE QUALIFIED(it’s the only thing that can make a 18 yrs old boy star in india) profile for me.

But despite of this ''qualification'', neither ruchira nor her ghost ever showed her face,,,,after that physics exam.

All I do is, watching her profile on Facebook,,I can't send her friend request, because, for her, I am that freak back-bencher, who'd she never make a friend,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

I have a collection of her photos, that I digged somehow, from her facebook account,,,,,,that made me even hack some accounts of her friends,(yes, I can hack,.......for her, anything),,,,,,,,,,,306,,is the number,,,the most lucky guys in this world.

I developed taste for music, listen romantic songs that explains my love, .....I think it's something more than love.

I can't like anyone else, can't change my state,,,,,,,,,,,,it's what newton said, every thing resist it's change in state,,,,,,,,,,,in my case, the value of resistance is infinite,,,,,,so the 'girl' called 'state' cannot be changed for Ashok.

That's the Physics of my life.

And hope, Tarun will not share my secret with anyone, ........................I trusted you boy,,,don't dump me,,,,as I'm already so much dumped.

It’s just a day called a “normal day” for me, same was everything. In the morning I was the last to open my eyes, and my mind opened itself little later. As always, it was the same lazy morning. As per the schedule I teased my sister because I have to and opened the sport section of THE TIMES OF INDIA, though I am well aware of that an Asian team has lost but my hope and doubt on my eyes forced me to confirm.

After that I was, as usual, scolded to carry on my daily routine, so I cleaned my beautiful pleasant odoured teeth, tongue and stomach. After all that I allowed myself to notice the happenings around. Mummy going to temple with aunty, papa talking on the phone and still my brain took a long time to interpret that today my brother is going to get married. Not here, the marriage is in Araria, my shameful hometown in the glorious state of Bihar.

So what? If someone is going to get married, I don’t care. Now I don’t care about my parents so how can I think of my cousins. But in my home my habits are unique, means there are others to think of it, and they are doing so. Even though the marriage is of other and 2000 kms away from this place but still Biharis find a reason to cheer, the thing that I am not able to understand. And also I am the one who didn’t allowed my over excited parents to attend that “hell” all because of my admission issue, they seem to sacrifice a lot for me. But I think it’s more or less good, at least for me as I am not at all willing to see the face of Bihar, I hate it.

Not always I hated that, the conditions made me to be away from the world. There used be a time when I and Puty were jumping in the bed only because on the next day we are going to catch the Guwahati Rajdhani to travel all the way to Katihaar. I remember how I cried when our ticket was not confirmed and we were coming back from the Railway Station. I can’t tell you the pleasure and curiosity of meeting my Nanaji and Maa that I used to posses. Thinking all that, I see the days I spend with my cousins, walking on the ground, catching fishes and plugging raw mangoes. I don’t know were it is lost in the flow of time.

Now I have made my mind to write about a trip made to my father’s homeland 13 years back, see how much I have stored in my half empty skull.




Tring…………. Tring…………….. (Just to feel you that telephone is ringing) papa picked it, and I ignored it, nothing interesting in this conversation.

I opened the balcony’s newly furnished door, and climbed that railing. Was just taking the watch on the Santro and Matize running on the road. I was really sick of that fiat premier padmini, and then suddenly the TV, the new Aiwa music, my mother’s chatterbox and my sister’s scream, all stopped.
What happened? Has Gabbar Singh killed my family? Oh I am alone in this home. It’s all mine, no one to stop me for watching HBO, AXN and STAR WORLD (you can imagine how matured I was at the age of 6 and they still call me immature, a BACHCHA).

The thought just came to my mind and my dirty expectations took me inside to confirm that whether someone is killed or not (I guess what people will think of me and my bastard nature). And guess what, there was at least someone who won’t breathe from now. Unluckily, he has nothing to do with the TV restrictions. Again you will notice my fucking dream. “What will happen to this boy?”
No, it wasn’t the boy who died, but the boy’s grand father.

“So what I do? My favor is not completed, no matter any fuck dies or lives” I turned again to the balcony puffing my cheeks because these family suckers turned my TV off, only because a Buddhau has met his end, what if that oldsuck happens to be father of father. Papa mummy and mama were worrying about the Heller or a Heavener without knowing that shaktimaan will be on the telecast only for an hour which is their son’s favorite show, who is still in this world. Soon after packing and gossiping started together and mostly it was mummy who was in the action. Now you can’t expect my father to move around because his soul had the shock as his excuse to sit still in such a hurry.
“Mummy why we are hurrying” I inquired
“We are going to ghar” Mummy’s expressionless reply.
Now this is our flat and still if there is any thing called ghar is that suhaag maaro.
Yep, that’s the damn village in which Mr. T N JHA got himself out (from what? Go and ask your mother). The fact is that the guy responsible for all the outings (obviously our khaandaan) Mr. Baidya Nath Jha is now out!
Who cares about this stuff, but its the point is this that dadaji gave up his life to pull his struggling grandson out of his final exams. “Long live dadaji”

Hurry, Bhateja Ma’m will be happy as her favorite student that she had to take for extra classes of Hindi won’t be in the city to bombard her brain. Moreover it is me who is on the top because neither I nor Kendriya Vidyalaya will see each other. Only reason worrying me is that everything, just like dadaji, will have it’s end and this is applicable to his surprise holidays too. Who is willing to see the school gate? Not me, I never did.

But who the hell is going to care, I have to do the formality of jumping on the bed and as always it happens my three year old sister joined me (I don’t know why? She always did) straight from her childish dream world. It must have irritated my parents, it must have! Now, when someone’s father and other’s father-in- law has passed away and still their children find a delight then there something to be angry, so they were. And as always I was the prey of there bloody anger.

Slap! Slap! These two power show turned the world around me. Black and foggy was it due to film of tears before my eyes, all due to that mother f***** (that’s the first time pitaaji made me add a ‘f’ after him). After I finished with my curses for my own father I went for a long sleep thinking why did that Mr. B N JHA fuck her wife someday or night in 1964 (keep guessing).


“Get up Minkoo” the embarrassing sound effect got me out of the dream.
“Hush, you still alive” I said in the after sleep voice tone, so thank god, no one heard. It got said as I killed my family with my laser gun in that dream, how silly was I.
“Nanaji ke paas nahi jaana hai kya” my father said with lovely smile on her face.
I wonder is he just showing or in real he wants to be nice to me, actually he wasn’t that till 1995.
All was well until an alien called “Puty” got into us and broke us all apart. Parents called her daughter but it’s me who knows what’s the reality is. I got proof; first, her face features don’t match with any three of us, and second, I slept between my father and mother every time since my birth and believe me nothing happened, at least 9 months before 25th Feb. 1995.
In the same period when I was having all that garbage in my skull I got Purani dilli railway station before my eyes. In one blink all the hatred departed and my blood vessels pressurized a lot of excitation out, actually in practical way.

“Oh, shit, see Ina Minkoo has got a bleeding” shouted my father as if mummy has got the responsibility of everything. Mummy must also be stamping papa with the ‘f’ brand from inside. I can smell the annoyance around.

Actually this stupid Minkoo was so curious looking at the railway station that he didn’t even felt ouch when the sharp edge of the gate was making love with his knee. Soon the all excitement flowed out through the knee. The curtains of happiness on my sense got torn by the razor edged gate and now the bleeding will do the magic.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” the ultrasonic boom that I released when my father was washing the wound at that pathetic railway toilet. Awesome smell plus glass-breaking music outside that mutralay must have pleased the people around. Papa covered the cut with his new hankie and took me to the platform.

It was no.7 and we had to wait for 45 minutes for the train to come. But in only 3 minutes the orange colored Rajdhani express arrived but we didn’t moved, may be we were waiting for something and the waiting continued when the train moved to leave the station. What the fuck! Is my family so shocked they don’t see? I couldn’t stop my self so asked “papa won’t we go?”
“That’s not our train” immediate ignoring reply arrived as no one there wanted to talk to this boy because he troubled himself and his family at the station. But I continued with my irritating questions standing shamelessly with the 1 day old hankie serving my 7 years old knee. My father kept on answering me, but with disgusting expressions on her face as if he is going to through me on the railway track. But still, to pass my time I took that risk till my train arrived. And then, this happened. Fuck again its mahananda, shit.
As if it is not enough to annoy us another bad news is that our tickets are not confirmed and we don’t have a seat in that hell transport, better we leave. But in such cases Biharis don’t give up, our family flushed into the train and occupied the seat which luckily remained unoccupied till the station started moving.

But nice times (wasn’t that nice this time ) don’t last long. Simple interpretation of the the previous line is that the owner of that seat arrived.

No wonder, we had no option to move to the general class. You may understand how pissed was I.
My little sister, though I hate her, but still I sympathized with that little devil.
….




We returned, and the only memory I had is that dadaji is no more , and everyone shaved their heads with little antennae.
Papa turned from pappai to father,
And I knew that like grandfather everyone has to leave,,,,,

That left me shocked………I couldn’t be away from those parents whom I hated 2 months ago, and developed atleast a little love for puttu……

You can’t hate your family, how hard you try!

thou say

First impression.

India is a vast country, thought being obvious that it can't have people living their lives in the same monotony. And the so called ''monotony'' is fortunataly or unfortunataly is somewhat orthodoxical, means if I get a chance of time travel and observe the livinghood of a family in , say 16th century and return to present to see their foresons. My sight will be amazed to see people still denied to the outer world development , trapped in that cucoon of that SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Who said that ghost are only in stories? Come to india and see these 400 years old still haunting the poor youngstors like me, who has to face illogical old rules....made by some beared idiot.

In other hand, if I do that 'time travel' experiment with so called 'fancy' contry, like America, there not only that candles got replaced by tube lights but the skull core too.

If I tell any of my elders about how developed and modern are the people of Europe then the answer would be in a nostalgic bloody old tone

'' you chaps don't know how developed our culture is, if they(europians) have modernity then have a glorious history, always remember , India a rich country in culture''

I don't know who sculptured this word 'culture' in this old brains. And how that history of 'slavery' is glorious.

Amusing is to see people in the metropoliton cities, avoiding the cat crossed way!

So , what would u interpret while seeing a 12 yrs old walking on the road having a ipod , carrying a laptop, having styled hair? Also think of your answer, if the same boy carries a book, having a combed hair.

Please, don’t say that the former is a spoilt one, ……….is it the first impression?

“Simply ness, here in India lies in that poverty”

think it over……it isn’t necessary to make your child look like champu to show his academic and social brilliance.

home sweet home

Her hands in mine, waving us on the sea shore ,I am god damn sure it to be the best times in the life of mine. Lips of her came close to mine, and feeling the sense of attraction her killing eyes pulled my lips towards her, later a boy and a girl are found ,having a super romantic smooch at some Caribbean like sky blue sea shore. I must be happy , well I must be the. Not every time you get your girl(especially when she is your schoolmate), and this moment carry the proof of it.

Next to this heavenly scene, I see myself blending bunch of roses, wearing a nice suit, must be Raymond’s, my favorite(don't think that I ever weared, just like it as it is shown on t.v). Her in dress of a bride. I think this is the moment MR. Tarun Akash is going to marry his girl, I don’t know why in this Christian style. But who cares, marriage to her is marriage to her.

Suddenly, its PUFFFFFFFFFFF, …………….SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFF,……………………………PUFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF……………………..SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF. “Get up you lazy lad”

In the wink of all it’s all gone, on this non-virtual space , I saw a tummy of guy

Doing the hyper oscillatory motion, on the bed of mine.

This sophisticated thing ! My very next glance of sense made me realize that HE IS MY FATHER, doing that kapal bhati stuff.

Oh, shit the dream was that, how the fuck can’t I put my ass always in such dreams.

Being well in the responsibility of being a bloody asshole, my homies gave their dirty clues that thy are not very pleased with me , with the indirect curses. What these mother fucker wants me, is to get me up at 5. in the morning, carry out that nice boy stuff, like taking a tooth-wash, ass wash with the 4 degree chilled water and then get myself fuck in that bloody pranayama.

Only questions I would like to ask to the extra-JHA, people that, do you hate your family as much as I do? May be , not. I didn’t find people blaming their families, popular are the poems about Mother , Father and Sisters. You would call me a psycho, I agree, I know what people of my kind are. But , I request to the the god not at all give the same kind of treatment to any of living kind as he gave, I would rather be orphan, I wish. You would not be beliving what I am saying, how can any one hate their parents, their family. You know what, neither do I believe,

I try my best to like my family , share all that stuff, crazy or what with my parents , showing them that I like them, but the response to this quite opposing. Get yourself be me, then maybe you can feel. Home is supposed to be safe, nice, family like. In my college , guys seems to be urged up ,” yeyyy, we are going home”, I say

“shit, this is fucking home”. Argument is what I see as perfectly wrong placement. Care about me , when it is not quite required, and letting me go to the hell when I am helpless. As illustrated following,

I call my family members asshole because they are assholes. Taking one by one , here are some expression that a son should not write

Father , his name is tara nath jha , like a girl no, information about him which concerns me is that he got married on the day nothing, this is why because that fucking day hold the root of this shit. I am still wants to piss those off who actually made this guy married, as not I never liked my grand parents, I like them, but not their sexual intercourse product. Mr. T N Jha’s got developed a diplomatic, orthodoxical ass like sense in the past few years, what I think some one once admired him, this made this diabatic back-brocken idiot that he is ultra intelligent human being, you are a dumb fat ass instead father dear.

What his bihari + ramdev+ morari babu sense made him is like an insulter, he thinks he is always right , socially perfect , what he says is damn non-breakable. I think he is just as opposite to me. But still I can’t say in his face as he pays my fees, pizza, burger things,

MAMMI sometimes I feel like why can’t I just kill her.

Shocking no? you will not understand until be the son of Ina jha . things what made her like a grinch is bihari+hare Krishna+ gurudev+ radha+…………………., I can’t count all that . the happens to be 10029, seriously saying I listd all of them. I hate her, and I am not proud of it.

Sister SAME AS ABOVE. Because Tanya jha is same as ina jha and t n jha, she well inherited from her parents that Tarun irritating habits.

What I see my future as that after four years I am gonna get a job, be it less paying one but I will get it, I am gonna collect around fifty lakhs and give it to them, and will go to a place where I am in contact with none of them, I will pay them what they paid for me

what I see them spending on me in just this currency , “ if you my parents have you ever loved me ? if you did , sorry it didn’t reached me” .

For now , whenever I am with my Family, I feel like, pull a gun to my head and put it’s bullet in this skull. But don’t worry papa you are gonna get your money back , until then I am not gonna die, wait for next 8-9 years , you will get all that shit back what you spent on this bastard. Papa but that 1992-1994 family was awesome, after that I think this GUM-GUM Maharaj died for you. Sorry , if I ruined your dream of being proud of your son, I know this is not ever going to be true.

So readers, how the family feels to you …………………………..nice. I wish.

People and Places

People reading this(if any) may find the typer’s brain not in any harmony but I can understand that because sight of truth and judgment of honesty is same as the tigers……rare.
FACEBOOK I didn’t know anything about that a year before but residing in a city somehow gets you into it. I signed up on this site on 26-05-2010 just after my engineering entrance tests set me free. Shantanu advised me to do so, he is the only guy who really think about me( don’t take it wrong), and also the one who my parents know as my friend.

ORKUT was also good but I had enough reasons for not touching it’s link. First, it is outdated and second, if I make an account on it I will see latest abuses on my scrap-list(don’t ask why).

Type your first name, middle name and last name, Etc. and I have an account on facebook.
Shantanu had his name on the name the friend suggestion list, so I informed him through e-mail that I have signed up, obviously I was new to its accessing. I didn’t even know , how to logout. Facebook just seemed like any other e-mailing sites, that’s what you think when you find an excuse of being out of touch, at last I am the son of my mother who don’t even know to handle a mobile phone, matter of concern.

Next day I logged in and the DRAMA started, first I saw glittering orange sign, friend request from shantanu jha, IGNORE or ACCEEPT. No doubt the accept button was clicked , because I don’t want that fat joker to cry. Sorry Shantanu.
Similar to orkut , you can FIND FRIENDS by just entering their names. First name I typed was of Ankit seth, another ridiculous person, but he was ahead of me in that OUT OF TOUCH race. What does it imply? , your are the son of the director of STEEL MINISTRY , always bragging about your standard, high class and don’t even have an facebook account, what kind of show off is this, even Arnab Dutta( a rich genius) own an account on facebook. As my blood pressure was breaking records I signed out.

Next day, I clicked on the GOD-FATHER ( profile of jhaji),

Name: shantanu jha
Sex: male
interested in: dating( whom he is expecting?)
looking for: friendship
relationship( sorry dear, your “looking for” task is endless until that extra 20 kilos are with you)
but shantanu’s friendlist included the female race of humans too which ruined my predictions, how can he manage? May be shantanu was tagged as “just friend” but who knows.


Second person whom I added the friend list was that “pilla” of our class( Shantanu named him, all because of his slow motion voice tone and super flaunting character). As expected I found Hippocratic scenes like
College: Nit kurukshetra ,
Japan on his profile photo
Statements like “ if you wanna come second then follow me” and “ I am genius” , I think he must have got a deep mental breakdown, may be because our Animesh agrawal is m.f, s.f and also f.f……………PILLA SUCKS. He also had “interesting looks” in his friend list but I didn’t allowed myself to click on those.


Another guy I should write about is Adithya ramanathan, don’t go with the name , in spite of being a SOUTHSUCK he is cool, we used to call him p.k. but I couldn’t stop myself to figure out an annoy, exactly the figure means the photo, SAALE SHAKAL DEKHI HAI , LAGTA BHANGI HAI AUR SAMAJTA HAI APNE AAP KO DON. Dollars on the picture seemed like Nepali rupee. He has a long friend list, that of around 200. What a caliber this boy has got, I think he sends friend requests to everyone even to his room partner,……..empty skull. As if that was not enough, see on his personal details
Interested in: women, again , don’t they buy silvered glass, or their eye sight is worse than me. You have got a BHIKHAARI face and you are publicizing your stupid and natural likes. Bothering would be that if this “women” is without “wo”, but now any one can predict with your MIRROR-BREAKING looks that this is a man.
Is the photograph or gender is not enough to imply your natural orientation, I know exceptions are there but if some one has got spoiled himself/herself being a gay or lesbian then what can I do , find a match for them. Sorry to say , but after typing the SEX if someone is again desperate to show his interests then I think either he has got his mind beneath his stomach or he is BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.


Among these irritations I still found people who got a nice way of social reactance like Beas and Bhanu. No mindless attitude was there to talk about, they are using there account just like an account. Nothing over special was done to show their DESIRES nor did they try to build a virtual personality. Good boys.

Clicking on a girl’s profile is the most interesting part of these sites that’s why people do these acts. I also can’t stop myself, I didn’t press the mouse button and actually it got pressed. But nothing new I got just the same PINKISH impression, I hope you understand.

I also debuted a chat with Gourav Mamgain, another topless guy, you can find him online anytime. I don’t understand why these people even exist. In the same way I used to insult him but he never really minded it, cool character.

On facebook you are facilitated to publish any thing, another cool way of flaunting. If you have anything to show off then nothing better than facebook is there. Here either publications are made in self praise or make others praise you. From drawing to football player’s T shirts having your name on it, everything is fond in this JUNGLE. Some publish their IQ test result-It’s 140, dear it seems how intelligent you are. Another fuck is the graphics like “top female fans” , “top male fans” you are no where to stand before this sensations, now what they want people to notice, there appeal?
At the end I must mention about sucking quizzes , some will predict your age, name, you can also know about your future, your soul mate, some even will tell about your sex style………pathetic, illogical, completely a mess. I have understood it , it’s better to interact with people face to face in the real world, not on facebook on that virtual dimention…………….lolz( it is once again the un-understandable language of that site)

love-online

Usually it’s not my habit to comment on popular things, but this time this ever thinking mind couldn’t stop itself. I avoided myself to get logged on any of social networking site in spite of that motivation from my room mate.
I always want to be different, like,
“I got NOKIA N-96, I got N-97, it’s latest MOTOROLA …and what you got Tarun?’ ’ to which I gently reply “ hey what’s this nokia, Motorola and all that?’ ’, outdated Tarun, you really are outdated. No, I am not, I just show, people show there high class and in that effort of looking different they find themselves no different. As being a human I too want others to notice me, so what if they find me funny, especially if you arrive at school in PAJAMAA, I did it only once in 4th standard, “it’s comfortable Ma’m , Tarun will you tell me whether you are here to be comfortable or else, now get out of the class” I really had regret flowing in my inside and sweat outside, when Mam called Maa “ Mrs. Jha your child was in casuals today at school, didn’t you noticed that?” what happened after that is quite predictable, take a clue from that, I didn’t even saw my naughty friends for almost a month, parents in India really are over reactive to their children’s academics, “ if its not A+ this time then you will not be allowed to play with Raghav” , “ that boy is really spoiling our child”, who knows whether Raghav is spoiling me or I am spoiling him. Once we nearly DIED in climbing Verma aunty’s backyard at forth floor for a COSCO ball, that’s called the passion of cricket in India.



Oh no, I AM REALLY, REALLY SORRY for this, actually I often get myself distracted from topic, lack of concentration………..ah, I know it. So, where I was? SOCIAL NETWORKING SITES. Despite of being aware of it’s shortcomings like having your I.P addresse hacked etc. I collected power to press that LOGIN button , then that shocking interrogation happened
ARE YOU ABOVE 18
what’s there in typing a fake date of birth but above 18 means something ADULT which means BEEP BEEP and BEEP. They write that it’s just MEET PEOPLE AND SHARE…….. what they share? Hey! Wait, it’s 15- march-2010, means it’s 36 nights past my eighteenth birthday. While one part of my brain was thinking all that another part went naughty, entered all the personal data, and silently ordered my fingers to click that CREATE MY ACCOUNT , whaat you did Tarun!

Redirecting…….
that’s what my turtle like laptop’s screen was showing, and my OUT OF CONTROL SKULL CORE, started thinking “ wait until you get ADULT” , “ what will it show, bluefilm( just heard about , all because of Shantanu and Ankit), pussy photo ………………and at last that stupid PC responded, what was it,
WELCOME TO ORKUT,
just this? Where are those VIDEO and IMAGE links, I curiously searched and when I faced the reality , the excitement, the thrill, all was gone. I thought gmail was better than this, but it wasn't.

It didn’t took me a single hour to get used to it, then suddenly some thing came to my mind. Before that, let me tell you something, I am living the life of a teenage, and at this age your heart starts beating for SOMEONE, she was in my school and that’s all , I can’t write the name as the blog link appear on my FACEBOOK account, though rarely I or any one get faced by it, but who dares to take the chance. So, after that my untrained fingers typed her name on the box “ find friends” ,she was not my friend but who make my mind hear this, and I was also aware of that, 1000s person with same name can exist, as it was in case of Amar sir, my arrogant maths teacher.

It appeared and it really did, her name in the 3rd place, something common between us, rare names, because only then such thing happens, she had a beautiful smiling face as her profile picture, I can easily win that stupid EYE-BLINKING game with her, after one year I am getting the glimpse of this Fairy. There is no need to tell that I clicked on her photo and her profile appeared , zoomed picture, oh , kill me.. after that I forced my eyes to her ABOUT ME script, full of brain tickling information, and English, I know that I suck at this language, but, that shortcuts like “m” for “ I am” , “de” for “ the”, “dat” for “that”,……and all others, you all must be well aware of dat…………………..not happening. After that “testimonials” what does it mean testi……., and on a girl’s profile??? She was supposed to be SHARIF ladki
But that’s not what I was thinking, It was just like a BOX OF PRAISE having the same coded language, and the heart breaking thing was that out of six, two were written by boys, including the words like “ sweetheart”, “ my bench- MATE” etc, and what multiplied my heart’s divisions were those, mean a lot of boys on her FRIEND LIST of which some of them were my classmates, Your chance is gone, Tarun. In this way ,her account has taught me a lot about ORKUT.


Turning point in this story is that when I noticed another typing box, “ say hi to xyz” . Type or don’t type, heart beat increased I could hear it. She knows me or not?(though I know her I even have her residential phone number), what will she think? Etc Etc…. like a lot of questions hammering on my head. Then this time I gave authority to decide, to my super-excited HRIDAY. And some thing like that appeared on that scrap box,




“I love you from the deepest of my heart, I always did. And sorry for that ,I will not irritate you in the future. Good bye.” Then SEND


AAAH, I made a kind of propose.

Whaaat you did tarun? As I always do, I placed myself in place of her, I thought about the message and got angried( I don’t know why). And it will make her angry too. Now how to delete that message? I lied on the bed and thought. In between, my mother came and noticed that this lazy boy is tensed. “ MINKOO I think you should have the lunch”
I’d have denied it but that clock was showing 2: 34. let’s eat.

Her smiling image was hovering in front of my eyes. HOW WILL THAT BE DELETED? This topic is even more complicated than indefinite integration.

Hack! Word that came to my mind. Tarun, let me remind you that you are not a computer nerd. Do something or something will happen. Delete the account. Cool, uffff, you are a genius, NAA RAHEGA BAANS NAA BAJEGI BANSURI. What happened after that is again obvious.



One day Shantanu called me ,” face book pe aaja, yahaan pe sab hain” . itold him, " yaar, mujhe to ye sab karna hi nahin aata", who knew that " ki mujhe kya kya karna aata hai"

Not again………., but this time too I couldn’t stop me from getting logged. I did it. Now , I added a picture to that account and did all other formalities, soon I got friend request from Shantanu and others, you can’t hide yourself on these sites, that's quite COOL.


It was well going , I even chatted( for the first time) then on tomorrow on that sucking friend suggestion list appeared HER name. That eyes,….. ………………again all that excitement started. What should I do now, log out again?