Mind your grammar

Try out this rather unconventional yet esoteric joke.

A foreign tourist was swimming in an English lake. Taken by cramps, he began to sink. He called out for help: “Attention! Attention! I will drown and no one shall save me!” Many people were within earshot, but, being well-brought up Englishmen and women, they honored his wishes and permitted him to drown.

If you didn’t get this joke, don’t be embarrassed. Many won’t get it. Just go and check http://www.dailywritingtips.com/the-difference-between-will-and-shall/

If you did, I am greatly impressed.
P.S. Plz write in comments section what you understood.

Akram bowling for US

The title above for sure would have intrigued you. You perhaps possibly would be puzzled linking Wasim Akram and cricket with the United States of America. One might have wondered is he setting up to play in ‘The Super Bowl’, well as of now certainly he can’t. To end up your queries let me apprise you that the above title is a misleading or more fittingly it is deceptive. The US is not U.S., but it’s us (India) amid CAPS LOCK.

No. Wasim is not playing in any champions or premiere league. I am talking about his swing against Hayden’s statement of calling India a third world nation and blaming poor ground conditions for their series loss. Wasim hit back by calling Australians sore loser and stating that in front of the 21st century India Australia is no more than a village.

Though once it was media mogul Kerry packer, an Australian, who revolutionized the world of cricket by filling colors to this white pajama sport and made even gentleman like Imraan Khan be dressed in those T-shirts with double entendre of “Big Boys play at night”, but right at this moment it is India which defines the destiny of cricket and success of IPL despite the initial cynicism of ICC is a fine illustration of it. Australian cricketers in spite of being world champs are lesser celebrated than their rugby team.

Let’s not go into the veracity of Wasim’s remark. It was pleasing to witness a neighbor from Pakistan coming in straight support for us. Wasim had always been a well admired person in India and this is why his request to buy sugar free sugar appeal Indians and he is accepted by the public for judging the dance steps of our “Khiladi’s and Haseena’s”along with Sushmita. He is one among the very few players who played from the heart. His ferocity on the field is in sharp disparity with his affability and sociability off the field. Hat’s off to you sir.

Grow up kids

After two and a half tedious and lingering hours, of mindless scribing and arduous scrimmage with my newfangled awareness developed just yesterday, I finally called it a day and left the hall. Though still half an hour was left, I didn’t bother to have another look at my performance. I believe I am impeccable at vomiting down the otherwise worthless set of information’s which I have assimilated for the day. To add reason to my excuse I must admit that I just want to end the entire trauma as early as possible.

Right outside the hall I was forcefully drawn in in what I genuinely hate. Peers and few peerless strangers greeted with the “How was it boss? So brother you are fetching an O grade” chestnut and started discussing the questions. I nevertheless managed to skip the futility. On my way back to dorm I found few inhabitants of my nest acting as robotically as they could, holding the paper with stretched hands while keeping the eye either on questions or on the other guys (or gal) and vocalizing the answers garrulously. I noticed that the guy with guys sounded conceited on scoring more and the one with gal sounded pathetic as if he is responsible for her scoring lesser. Anyway they were enjoying the moment (I wonder how or why) not concerned to glance frontward as if they don’t mind whatever they might bump into.

Back at dorm my primary desire was to assuage my appetite, closely chased by the secondary wish to catch the highlights of Yuvi’s centurion innings against England and then to shape a long serene sleep. I was peacefully having my lunch sitting in front of the T.V. when those morons emerged there too and started examining, re-examining and re-re-examining their answers. At once the lunch which was till then palatable became insipid. Given my hunger I anyhow swallowed it and left immediately.

Finally I entered my room in hunt of solace only to locate the assiduous and diligent ‘maggu’ of my room busy analyzing his performance lively with few others. Now that was the limit. I couldn’t stand it any more. For sometime I doubted whether I was missing something by not being a part of it, Is something wrong with me for I am not able to even minutely praise what they so immensely pursue. I thought for few minutes only and the apprehensions evaporated. I re-realized this is so juvenile to be involved in.

I think somebody should soon ask these ‘kid Engineers’ around me to GROW UP. May be I should make them listen to Floyd’s ‘Another Brick In The Wall’ but I guess they won’t appreciate that.

What's in the name?

I and one of my roommates who also shares my first name are cheek and jowl when it comes to confer on generally social/political issues and sporadically asocial/apolitical ones. Many a times this discussion goes ad nauseam and many of our dorm’s neighboring colleagues join us in it. My second roommate, a pure maggu, habitually engrossed deep in his books and often reluctant to these enduring deliberations, at times gets thrilled by the nature of the subject matter and jumps on the bandwagon to place his outlook. Among all the numberless solemn and silly issues which we thrash out we recently had a debate on the significance of a persons name in determining his success.

He declared that name matters a lot and in this matter he is in doldrums as his name (Saurav) doesn’t sounds resembling the name of a high profile achiever with too many feathers in his cap. Given my name (Saurabh) and measuring my aspirational dreams I had to disagree. He then asked me to name a single incredibly eminent personality with a name as silly as ours. I instantly replied Sourav Ganguly, thinking that the discussion was over and all. But he argued that the surname Ganguly worked for him and he is better known by that name only. Well, there was a point. I tried my hands on few other names but all in vain. Though I figured out few silly names among small achievers, but not a single one amongst the crème de la crème.

I placed forward numerous optimistic points in favor of my ideology but my words of wisdom were falling on a deaf ear. We sustained this juvenile talk for few additional minutes and then came to a full circle. Having a semester examination the very next morning and still not having been able to conquer half the colossal syllabus we decided to end the conversation and toggled back to burn the midnight oil. But however hard I tried I was incapable to confine my thoughts to the Xerox in my hand and kept on thinking back over our plausible contemplation.Then out of the blue I remembered the very famous lines from Shakespeare’s masterwork ‘Romeo and Juliet'.

To Quote-
--“What’s in the name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet.”

I hadn’t reflected much over these lines when I read it for the first time. According to my roommate poor Juliet seems to be absolutely oblivious of the intricate complexity of the real world. Only had she not been born in an elite family. His answer to Juliet would be 'A Lot. Trust me.'

Anyway, I still take a sanguine view in spite of my name. Don’t worry Juliet, even Romeo may defer but on these lines I am with you.

The Woody Allen View

Yes this is the same Woody Allen, the creator of some of the finest wacky comedy classics of all time. In fact there is no other Woody Allen which we can together talk of. Recently I had a lucky chance to enjoy his masterwork ‘Annie Hall’. The movie, considered semi-biopic, consolidated his signature cinematic style. Woody Allen himself played the protagonist, a fixated and neurotic personality who is unable to derive gratification from an in general happy life. The very nature of the character is set in the opening scene where Alvy (Woody) breaks the ‘forth wall’ and talks to the audience directly about his neurotic psyche. He quotes two jokes which instantly set the chords. According to him they together best describe his vision of life (And perhaps mine too, till this point).

First One: “Two elderly women are at a Catskill mountain resort, and one of them says, "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know; and such small portions."
Final One: “I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member.”

Truly, such is life. Mostly: Intricately complex, raucously chaotic, scarily lonely, consistently demanding, terribly excruciating, awfully painful and at times acutely embarrassing. You may go ahead and add few more adjectives but yet you too regret how quickly it ends and are perhaps as fond of life as I am, cause somewhere between those entire derogatory annotations lie few heavenly moments which heels the soreness of the journey till that moment.

No matter how high one could have escalated age and experience wise yet they all can still count off the moments of exaltation and ecstasy that they would like to breathe again. But even then we are prepared to go through all the countless commotions of life for those few easily countable instants.

Hope Floats

Sometimes It appears to me that life has come to a momentarily standstill. Last five years have been so akin. The visages around may have altered but the similar milieu of mayhem prevails. They say ‘All it takes to win is a well organized solicitous mind’, but in my case disorder seems to be the order of the day. Nothing is at its place; a whole pandemonium is sensed in every sphere of life. Perplexed in all this mayhem yet fanatically desperate to win I try to nourish my plummeted desires, dreaming exotic tryst with destiny. Yes, I do believe everyone has a destiny. A divine providence which steers us all and anyone can arrive at what is destined to them provided they appreciate their fate before time plays it decisive character. The moment time outshines its limitation the destiny becomes the master.

A good number of stuffs in my case have gone really bad. I blame it to myself as it was always me who finally makes the choices. It is me who chooses my pals, my dreams and my path; so it has to be me who am to be interrogated. May be I was so sluggish that the itinerary seemed so demanding. Or may be the mark which I have set for myself is not an ordinary one. Nevertheless still hope floats, somewhere but where exactly I am not convinced about. Tenaciously I search for it in my gloomy heart, which in itself holds myriad paradoxical desires conflicting sporadically. But I know I will find its whereabouts. My conjecture at this point is may be this little hope is the one which provides me my oomph of life. But to quote Morgan Freeman from The Shawshank Redemption, 'Hope is a dangerous thing my friend.'