A break from life....

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The IIT story...

I wrote this when I was utterly bored, during one phase of the 3 hour IIT exams couple of years ago, much to the amusement of the invigilator. I found the question paper on which this was written yesterday while scouring through my cupboard. Its a work of fiction, first and foremost(please don't sue me) and its a tad longish. Bear with me. The moonlight crept through the thin wisps of cloud, casting a pale hue on the sea below. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks, deafening, majestic. But all this was lost to Vaibhav as he stood there on the 5 th floor attic of the main building. His body numbed by the shock and horror of his realisation. “This can’t be” he thought, “How..”. A muffled scream, a soft thud, and a huge splash. It was over. The dining hall had never before been this quiet. Shocked eyes, excited murmurings and the sound of newspapers crumbling as everyone hurriedly turned over the pages to get the full story. “Another suicide at the IIT’s”, the headlines r...
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Two of a kind...

I had a corner seat to the left, three rows from the back. It was the second day of classroom training in Mysore and we were in the midst of the irritating L&D(Learning and Development) sessions. Basically, those were three days of English and communication classes that I thoroughly hated because they involved communication and people skills, both of which I lack and have no interest in acquiring. We were given a task, speak to five random people in the classroom, introducing yourself and start a conversation with them. So here I was, making no effort whatsoever to introduce myself to random strangers, when the guy who sat in the last row, directly behind me, came over. " Hi, Dhruva! Tui bangali?" That is how I first met Dhruva. We didn't have the longest conversation at that point, but I distinctly remember, the very next time we spoke, later in the evening, his first question was, "Baba fukish to?" I was like, "What the hell is 'Baba'!...
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Courage in unlikely places...

If you're reading this, then congratulations are in order, because we all made it through another year. A feather in our cap/hat/toupee wherever you'd like it. Do I reminisce on the year gone by, or do I put forth my set of new year resolutions for the year to come ( I know, I know, those never work, but one can always hope). Maybe wander off in a whole new trajectory of abstractness? That could be fun. So here goes, If you're ever passing by the park next to the 17th and B, look up the tall maple tree. High up in the branches, you will find a story of hope. Sitting atop the branches, cradled in her nest, is little Boo. A tiny beak, a sleek coat of blue feathers with a dash of purple, and the brightest little eyes you'll ever see. Every morning, Boo awakes to the sound of music. The songs of the birds, soaring high above in the sky, gliding with the wind, singing out in joy as the morning sun erupts over the horizon. Boo gazes up through the gap in the maple lea...
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