5 Ways To Celebrate A Happy Diwali Without Crackers

Don't worry, I am not going to ask you to stay away from crackers. I am sure that if you do burst them, you'll be already knowing how harmful they are. It's common sense. When lighting one matchstick produces enough smoke to make us feel slightly choked, it's evident what so many fireworks can do the environment. So I am not going to get preachy here. For one, this isn't the biggest harm man is doing to the environment. Two, I don't think I am wrong in believing that we've all enjoyed bursting crackers during Diwali up to some or the other point of time, some of us still do, some have given up for different reasons. And it's easy to preach the doers when you aren't one of them. I believe in letting everybody have their own space. Who am I to ask people to stop using crackers just because I don't prefer them? Inform them, but then let them decide what gives them more happiness. It's a personal choice after all.

In my opinion, let at least the kids learn on their own. If they find celebrating Diwali with crackers and fireworks fun, let them have it. Instead of trying to stop them against their will, try, instead, to teach them that excess of anything is bad. Don't take away from them moments that are most likely to become precious memories for them, don't you remember your own days as a child eagerly waiting for the evening puja to finish, so you could go out to burst crackers and light flowerpots with your parents and friends?

So that means we have three kinds of people now—those who have completely abandoned fireworks for Diwali, those who use them in moderate quantities, and those who are full on firework fanatics. If you happen to belong to the first of these three categories, then you might find this post interesting.

Five ways to celebrate a happy Diwali without crackers:

1) Decorate Your House Better Than The White House: Seriously, there is nothing girly about it. It's your place, and the way you treat it, to a great extent, defines who you are. Cleanliness is godliness, beauty is happiness. As much as you might hate it, you will love the outcome. So help your mom in the Diwali cleaning as far as you can. On Diwali, light up the house inside out. For once in a year, don the interior designer's hat for your own space, and I assure, you'll be proud of it. 

2) Give Gifts, Get Gifts: Can't resist reusing them? No worries! It isn't the gifts exchanged that matter here, it is the ritual, the practice that does. When people who do not get to see each other the whole year, decide to visit each other and spend some time talking, eating and laughing, it strengthens bonds. You may or may not want or need them, you may or may not be fond of them, but it is always good to be friendly. Man is a social animal, they say. 

And while you do this, your kids (if any), or you, will be most excited about various things like – getting to meet cousins and friends, predicting who will give the "best" gifts, unwrapping presents with an enthusiasm that will always be more than what shall follow (no matter how great the present may be), and above all, getting to eat the best foods one does not get the rest of the year. 

3) Cook and Eat: I won't bore you by stating the obvious. Diwali is without doubt a foodie's dream come true. There is literally everything on the platter—dry fruits and nuts, chocolates, juices, sweets, chips, homemade delights, biscuits, cakes, and whatnot. You may be forty kilos, you may be eighty kilos, but Diwali doesn't come twice in a year, does it? Nor will your not eating fast food for one week or so reduce your weight. So as long as your health doesn't suffer, let the foodie in you indulge this Diwali.

And if you love cooking, what better opportunity do you need, than one where everyone around you is ready to eat anything edible that comes their way? A good foodie's greatest pleasure is food, a good cook's great delight is pleasing a good foodie. So buck up, take out all those recipes you had jotted down from watching television, and for once in life, go on to actually trying them.

4) Throw A Party: There couldn't be a better occasion than this to call over all your dear friends and relatives, and have a blast of a time. Sit together, play good games, share jokes and memories, sing happy songs, have good food and drinks, maybe watch a great movie, do creative stuff, and above all, DANCE! Show that one doesn't need to be good at dancing to have some fun, for it is all about letting yourself free.

5) DANCE, DANCE, DANCE: This might seem like an extension to point #4, but I think dance is a celebration in itself, and a festive occasion just compliments it really well. Uncle, aunt, mum, dad, grandpa, grandma, brother, sister, best friend, crush, love... basically anybody, or nobody! Just let the music play and dance like it is your last time. You will find bliss, and get to share it too!

I am publishing this post on a Diwali evening, so it might be too late, or too early (considering next year's Diwali). But I don't think you were waiting for me to tell you how to celebrate the festival, were you?

Eat almonds, avoid cashewnuts. Don't reuse gifts as gifts. Judge a present by its emotional value more than its monetary value. And study if your exams are coming up... sounds like an impossible Diwali, doesn't it? Heck, do whatever you want! :D

Here's wishing you a a very happy and prosperous Diwali. With or without crackers, I hope you have a safe and great one. Do let me know how you made your Diwali successful.

Adios!

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How I Learned That Plagiarism Is Bad

I can usually be found speaking strongly against plagiarism. My friends often pull my leg on this topic. Funnily though, it was plagiarism that helped me learn why plagiarism is bad. Here's how:

The first time our school magazine's content management team invited entries from us, I was keen to see my name below one of the contributions. Without bothering much, I simply lifted a poem from somewhere and submitted it. The teacher who was selecting entries then called me to her room and asked, "Have you really written this?" "Yes," I said confidently. "Well, if so, I must say your vocabulary is pretty good for your age," she said, obviously sarcastically. It pricked.

"Okay so you can probably tell me the meaning of this word 'mound' that you have used here," she said, pointing at that word in the poem written in my hand-writing. "Er, actually I don't remember it right now," I said sheepishly. "That's not possible if you used it here yourself," she told me sternly. "My father helped me with it," I tried to reason further, adding to the stupidity. 

      "Do you realize, somebody must have put in effort to write this poem, which you so easily submitted as yours?" the teacher asked me rhetorically, "you may go now," she told me, nodding her head in utter disapproval.

The embarrassment moved me, and I understood why what I did was wrong. I promised myself that I would not repeat the mistake.

The next time entries were invited, I penned down one article and one poem in Hindi, and one article in English—all of which were published in that year's edition of the magazine.

That was when I discovered that I can be good at writing. Ever since, and at least when it comes to written expression, I have never needed to yield to plagiarism.

 Make mistakes to learn how to not make mistakes.

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Umar, Sana, and a Broken Tale of Love

"If there ever comes a day when I have to choose between you and someone else, I will rather choose death. This is my promise to you, Umar," her words still echoed in his mind like yesterday. Four years of friendship in college followed by four years of intense courtship had brought them as close as two souls can ever be, he had assumed. All his dreams of living his entire life with his life, Sana, came crashing down like a pile of cards. The devotedly knit relationship of trust, faith, love, understanding and care, was now no more. He was torn apart between the past and the present, with no courage to foresee the future. All this, and more, had happened in a matter of hours, and minutes, and seconds, and milliseconds... and an eternity.


Four hours back when Umar had tried calling Sana, her father had bellowed at him, proudly informing him of her nikaah fixed for the next day. "Nikaah? This is not possible. You can't force her to marry someone else!" Umar had let out an outcry. "Force? We don't need to force her to understand the difference between a jobless poet and the richest businessman of our community, mister. Sana is getting married of her own free will. So you better quit now. Do you hear that? Quit! And dare not contact my daughter ever again!" were the last words Umar heard before numbness struck. Perhaps, the only respite for him was the fact that he was in Mumbai—a city where everyone is so occupied in their own lives that even his existence could be barely noticed, let alone his shattered world.

Lost in the memories of their past, he kept walking. He remembered the first time they had actually met in college—scolded by the lecturer for writing shayari for a prose-writing assignment. Beautiful as Sana was, he had secretly felt proud of having annoyed the teacher with his insane and purportedly rude arguments. Both got asked to leave the class for that day. What made them talk after that was the passion they shared for shayari. From Mirza Ghalib to the present day writers, they shared all the knowledge and passion they had for the art they both held close to the heart.

Days passed by and they came closer, sharing feedback for each other's writings, apart from food and time. Over time, Umar learned that Sana was the closest to himself he could ever meet. Sana, on the other hand, learned that Umar was the most talented writer and singer she could ever meet. She strictly made him do all his assignments, while he always surprised her by bringing the rarest of books she had ever wanted to read. He sang her favorite songs and ghazals. Jagjit Singh, Ghulam Ali, Shafqat Amanat Ali, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and the Wadali brothers were her favorites, he knew. She loved sufi and ghazal music, and always told him how his voice was perfectly suited to both. She was a bad singer, but he did try making her sing a couple of times—every time both of them ending up laughing hysterically. What he gave her in terms of music, she returned with her amazing hand at cooking. For each song that he sang on her demand, he charged a generous serving of kebabs, halwa, kheer or sewaiyyan prepared by her. "You are the Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan of these dishes— unconquerable and invincible," he used to tell her. And she would thank him with a little smile and blush. Living in the most rapidly changing and urbanizing cities of the world, Umar had never met a girl as shy, polite, compassionate and tied to her culture, as Sana. What made her all the more different was her quick sense of humor and "a brain sharper than the sword of Tipu Sultan"—as he would tell to her amusement. The two of them were similar and different in all the right places—the very reason why Umar had finally proposed to her one day, by reciting a piece of shayari that he had specially written for her. Sitting on his knees, he had then sung her favorite ghazal, 'Pyaar ka pehla khat likhne mein, waqt to lagta hai'. A teary 'yes' was all that Sana had been able to gather in the moment. In more than four years of knowing each other, that was the first time they hugged each other.

Trying to sew together the fallen beads of the past in his heart, Umar walked and walked, finally stopping at the beachside. He felt the cries of his soul deafened by the thunderous clamor of the waves. This gave him a strange kind of relief. Strange because inside his heart he very well knew, the relief was not only short-lived, but deceptive too. It did to him what a mirage does to a traveler in a barren desert—give false hope that the struggle shall soon end and a world of happiness would await him. But, what he also knew was that this was neither the first time when he was being deceived, nor the worst betrayal that he had received.

Ten months back, Sana's family had discovered her relationship with this "small poet who barely managed a hands-in-mouth survival". Umar wrote poetry in a few unknown magazines and newspapers. In worse days, he also took to singing in cafes and bars. He was a graduate in Urdu literature and had a couple of other, as Sana's father said, "more decent" career options to take up too, but he didn't. Sana had asked him not to. She was convinced that he was a truly gifted singer and writer. It was Sana who had made him promise her that he will never let the material world stop him from doing what he did best. "Not everybody is as gifted as you are, Umar. But if you still choose to be like everybody, it would be a disgrace to allah's blessings," she had said.

He begged Sana's father to give him some time, he could not afford to lose her. He promised to give his all in making her life comfortable and happy. But Sana's family did not budge. They rebuked him and explained to Sana that "life was not all about love". Sana, of course, did not agree. But neither she nor Umar was the kind to flee away. Sana was kept on house-arrest and for ten long months, the two lovers did not get to even see each other. All this while, Umar looked for better work, which he gradually found. He became a shayar, singer and writer of good repute. The world respected him, wanted him; while all that he wanted was the love of his life, Sana. Little had he imagined that ten months later, Sana's father would be informing him of Sana's marriage, fixed on her own approval. He felt choked, crushed, wrung, and dead.

Lost in an unceasing chain of thought and contemplation, Umar was, by now, walking along the shore, the howls inside him silenced by the thunder of the sea. A sudden stroke of breeze gently kissed his cheeks, making him sense Sana's presence beside him. The wet sand below his feet chiseled his bones and flesh, as it reminded him of the days when the two of them would spend hours making castles on the ever so crowded beach of Juhu. Umar preferred peace and privacy, but they came here because Sana loved the place. She loved to see the sun set behind the spread of the sea-waters. He loved the beam it brought on her face.

It wasn't just the fond memories that shook him. He genuinely felt her around, somewhere close, very close. As if he had never lost her in the first place. He saw her smiling, heard her laughing, felt her touching. The sun was setting and people had begun to vacate the beach. There was no one around him. Yet, inside-out, there was an utter bedlam. He tried to shut his ears to the eerie cacophony, but couldn't. It was like hearing someone wailing and someone laughing, all at the same time. He felt something penetrate him deep and intense. He felt life being sucked out of his body. Letting out a roar of a cry, Umar fell upon his knees and burst into tears. "You can't do this to me!" he moaned aloud. "SANAAAAAA!" 

He lost control of himself. The feeling of having lost everything had finally sunk in. He finally realized that she was gone forever. He cursed himself for loving her so much that he didn't have the grit to utter even a word against her. Every time he thought of abusing her name, all that he could manage was, "Why, Sana, why..."

He got up and started walking towards the sea. He knew he could never hate her. He knew he could never get her. He knew he would always love her. It seemed meaningless to him to continue living in the dilemma. He was a corpse already. The corpse decided to end its life.

He struggled to walk against the wet sand and the force of the waves, but he kept walking. Deeper inside the sea, he paced his steps. He felt happy that the pain would soon end. But more than that, he felt happy that he was dying in the sea-water—it gave him an illusion of Sana being with him in his last moments. She loved water. Ever since he had come to the place, he had felt her around. Inside the sea, the sensation was even stronger. As long as it made him believe that she was with him, he did not bother. When suddenly, his feet hit against something.

He tried to jump over the obstacle, but couldn't. He fell down upon his face, close to Sana's. He went blue with fear.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the beachside. Her entire body was cold and morbid. He held up her hands to rub them warm. Her palms were painted with henna that was, perhaps, washed off too early. "The mehendi in my hands will bear only one name as long as I am alive—yours," he remembered her saying.

Her heart had stopped beating. She did not breathe. Umar cupped her face in his hands, urging her to wake up. "Sana, get up! Please!" But she lay there, lifeless. She was gone. This time, really, forever, for... ever.

"What have I done," he thought to himself. "I mistrusted her, thought of her as a cheat, blamed her! I dishonored our love. I dishonored my love. I dishonored Sana!" 

"I am a sinner," his remorse cried. "How could I lose faith in her so easily? How could I even imagine that she could deceive me. Instead of trying to ensure that she was safe, that she wasn't being mistreated, I simply walked away. How could I damn all her years of devotion towards me in one snap? HOW?" 

There was a tumult of guilt and regret inside him that burned every part of him. She lay there in front of him, the same beauty he had last seen ten months back. This time only, she was pale, and dead. He could not believe his eyes.

He took her in his arms and placed her face close to himself. He hugged her a final time before bidding her adieu. His eyes soared with tears and his soul shivered with fear... fear of the punishment he had decided for himself.

"I am a sinner. I deserve the severest of punishments," he talked to Sana's dead body. "I was killing myself because I knew I cannot live without you, my love. I was dying because I thought I did not deserve such pain and misery. But now, I do. I deserve this pain of separation, and more."

"Rest in heaven, my angel. I shall live. For living without you is the greatest punishment I can imagine for myself..." were his final words to the Sana who was no more.

                                                                                                                   

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"Dard" : A Short Scene

{First-level auditions of a famous reality T.V show are on in full swing. The stage is set for the next contestant to take over. A large studio audience is present. The orchestra is ready to play along. The jury—a panel of two eminent musicians of the Hindi Music Industry (one male, one female)—too is ready. The jury is sitting right in front, with the audience at the back, both facing the stage. The contestant enters from the left entry point on the stage with a harmonium hung around his neck. He is dressed in old but traditional Rajasthani attire—pagri, angrakha, dhoti and kamarbandh. He is barefoot, and in a respectful gesture, bends to touch the stage before stepping on it.}

Contestant: (nervously) नमस्ते sir.

Judge 1: (with a keen look and a generous smile) नमस्ते, नमस्ते। क्या नाम है आपका?

Contestant: जी, भानुप्रसाद।

Judge 2: भानुप्रसाद जी, सबसे पहले तो मैं यह कहना चाहूँगी कि I love what you're wearing!

Bhanu: (clueless expression) 

Judge 2: मेरे कहने का मतलब है कि आप जो ये पारम्परिक राजस्थानी पोशाक पहन के आये हैं आज, मुझे बहुत अच्छी लगी।

Bhanu: (blushes) जी, धन्य्वाद madamji.

Judge 1: भानुप्रसाद जी, आप करते क्या हैं?

Bhanu: Sir मै बसों और ट्रेनों में गाना गाता हूँ, अपना ये बाजा बजाता हूँ और लोगों का मनोरंजन करता हूँ।

Judge 2: Interesting. (To judge 1) I am so glad to see that our show is attracting such diversity of musicians from across the country!

Judge 1: I completely agree with you. (To Bhanu) हाँ तो भानु जी, क्या सुनाएंगे आज आप?

Bhanu: Sir मैं हमारे राजस्थान का ही एक बड़ा मशहूर लोक गीत है, केसरिया बालम, वही सुनाने की इजाज़त चाहूँगा।

Judge 1: अरे बिल्कुल। बस शुरू हो जाइये ! (To audience) Silence please!

(Bhanu starts with an aalaap. He sings the song, "Kesariya baalam aawo rey" for a total of 1.5 minutes, while playing his harmonium along. He starts nervously but slowly becomes more confident in his singing. The audience is clapping and cheering for him by the end of the performance. The judges are very happy too. At the end of the performance...)

Judge 2: भानु जी! कितनी सुन्दर अवाज़ है आपकी! बिलकुल राजस्थान की मिट्टी की याद दिला दी। वाक़ई, मज़ा आ गया आज आपका performance देख़ के।  

Bhanu: (extremely excited) धन्यवाद madam ji, आपका बहुत बहुत धन्यवाद।

Judge 1: भानु जी आपकी आवाज़ में जो प्यार, जो भावनाएं हैं, वो सिर्फ हमारे लोक गीत में ही सुनाई पड़ सकती हैं। और harmonium तो आप और भी सुन्दर बजाते हैं। बहुत ख़ुशी हुई आज आपका गाना सुनके। 

Bhanu: Sir... मुझे तो विश्वास ही नहीं हो रहा। मेरे लिए तो आप जैसे दिग्गज लोगों के सामने खड़ा होना ही बहुत बड़ी बात है। आपसे तारीफ सुनकर तो मेरा जीवन सफ़ल हो गया। (kneels in gratitude with teary eyes)

Judge 2: सफ़ल तो हमारा दिन हो गया भानु जी, आपका गाना सुनके। आपका शुक्रिया यहाँ आने के लिए। 

Judge 1: भानु जी, buses और trains में गाकर लगभग कितना कमा लेते हैं आप?

Bhanu: Sir कभी तो दिनभर गाके भी एक रुपया पास नहीं बचता, और कभी दिन के पचास-सौ रुपये तक बन जाते हैं।

Judge 2: तो आपका गुज़ारा हो जाता है इतने में? परिवार में कितने लोग हैं?

Bhanu: Madam ji परिवार में तो बस मै हूँ और मेरी माँ हैं जो ज़्यादातर बीमार रहती हैं। यूँ तो जितना मै कमाता हूँ उतने में गुज़ारा कर सकते हैं, पर माँ की दवाइओ के कारण कुछ बचता नहीं। हमारे पूर्वज भी यही काम करते थे। जो भी कला हमें आती हैं, वो हमें पिताजी से मिली है। संगीत हमारे रोम रोम में बसा है, संगीत के अलावा तो शायद हम कुछ कर भी नहीं सकते। हम ख़ुद को ख़ुश नसीब समझते हैं की मौला ने हमें गाने का गला दिया है। कला उसने दी है, तो कला को मान भी वही दिलायेगा, ऐसा हमारा विश्वास है।

(Sad music plays in the background of the show)

Judge 1: आपके ख्याल जानकार हमें बहुत ख़ुशी हुई भानु जी। यही उम्मीद करते हैं की इस show के ज़रिये आपको और आगे जाने का मौका मिले, और हमारी देश की जनता भी जाने की हमारे देश में talent कहाँ कहाँ बसा हुआ है। 

Judge 2: आइये भानु जी आ कर अपना medal ले जाइये। हम आपसे अब सीधा next round में मिलेंगे। आईये।

Judge 1: आइये भानुप्रसाद जी, आके अपना इनाम ले जाइए...

Judge 2: आइये भानु जी...

(Everybody speaks in chorus, "आइये भानु जी...")

***

"उठ जाइए, उठ जाइए, ज़नाब! मने तंग ना कर। अब उठ भी जा, काम पे नहीं जाना क्या। अरे train निकल जायेगी, उठ जा। उठ जा, उठ जा!..."

(Bhanu lazily opens his eyes to see his friend Ratan standing near him, peeping right into his face. He is visibly angry and frustrated. Dressed in the same traditional Rajasthani attire as Bhanu's, Ratan is holding a Sarangi against his shoulder.)

Bhanu: अरे तू के कर रहा है अठे!? (what are you doing here)

Ratan: जो सवाल मने पूछना चाहिए वो तू पूछ रहा है? तू ये बता कि तू अभी तक चारपाई पर लेटा के कर रहा है? तने याद नहीं, हमें 9 बजे की train में जाना था गाने बजाने?

Bhanu: (Very confused and puzzled) तो क्या मै TV program में गाना नहीं गा रहा था?

Ratan: TV program? हे म्हारा राम, तू और तेरे सपने। अब काम पे चलना है कि ना? या यहीं बैठे ख्याली पुलाव खाना है?

Bhanu: (still lost in thought) तू जा, मै आज नहीं आऊंगा।

Ratan: अरे पर क्यूँ?

Bhanu: वैसे ही, मने दर्द हो रहा है।

Ratan: दर्द? कैसा दर्द?

Bhanu: सपने टूटने का दर्द।

***

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How To Become An Avid Reader: Task 1

I am not an avid reader, but I do realize that I ought to be one. One misses out on an unimaginable amount of knowledge assets by not being a good reader, and I want to correct that for myself. And, what better a time than summer vacations to do that! (vacations that precede the placement season... err okay.)

If interested, you can join me on my little journey by keeping up with this series that begins with this very post. Let us see how many days it will take us to really "get into the mode". I'll think of tasks for us on a timely basis, and if you choose to follow along, don't forget to keep me updated on the status of your progress, just as I will. A comment or two is all that it would take.

So, without further ado, let's begin with a very simple task for today.

TASK:-

1. Jot down the names of all the books that you have ever read—STRICTLY other than your text books. Bookworms are welcome, nerds aren't.

2. Next, you might want to list down names of websites that you regularly read. No, don't count in Wikipedia and the likes that come to your service as saviors in ass-on-fire times. Also don't count in those random pages that you once upon a time had stumbled upon, courtesy a link shared by someone. You know what I mean, don't you? In slightly exaggerated words, these have to be websites that will make you jump out of your chair thinking, "Oh, yes! I have to see what's latest on there!" So you will type their URL in the address bar, unless they are bookmarked, and then will get engrossed in reading them for maybe hours... though that is not very important as long as you are reading.

3. Now think, was that a tough job? Did it completely shake your memory completely out of its comfort-zone to make that list?

If yes, you are probably an ardent reader who has been reading ever since (s)he learnt to read. You probably don't "need" this post, but I'd still like you to read along and correct me at places where I might not be wrong or best opinionated. Why? Because you are the ruler of the state that we are yet to even enter!

If not, you and I need to work. And you know what, this series might just be a good thing to add to your scantly populated reading list.

My answer at the end of the task: Damn, I just realized I am a bad reader. Err obviously, that's why I am writing this post. I have read some thirteen novels till now, which are listed in my Goodreads profile (you might like to do that too)... to keep myself updated. Weird reason, I know.
And websites, I am not a regular reader of my own websites, forget the others. Oh damn, there's so much to strive for. But good thing, this is the best way I could use my vacations. So, bring it on!

Accomplishment: At least we now know how good or bad a reader we are, isn't it?

We shall overcome!

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A Music-Video You Must See

Creativity inspires me. Somebody recently shared this song on his Facebook page. I'm usually very lazy in clicking on stuff that comes up in my news feed. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if some day, while scrolling down the feed, I managed to unintentionally ignore God's own status update too. But that fine day, I was bored, and lucky too! Yes, discovering good music is really a matter of luck.


Anyway, the song is "Float", by Flogging Molly. I am in love with it ever since, alright. But, what's even more inspiring, apart from the lyrics, is the very amazing video—a very, very well executed animation. Do watch it once. There's nothing about this one that I don't find lovable. I am hoping that'd be the case for you guys too.


Some of my favorite lines from the song are:

"... sick and tired of what to say 
      no one listens anyway
      sing, that's all you can..."

"... singled out for who you are
it takes all types to judge a man
feel, that's all you can.Filthy suits with bigot ears
hide behind their own worst fearslive, that's all you can..."

Give it a listen. The lyrics as well as the music as well as the video are worth watching out for. Goodbye for now. <Goes on to save the video in the "Favorites" folder>

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5 Tricks That Will Make You Funny, or Lame, or Both...

Always wanted to be the cool one in your gang? Need to develop a sense of humor to impress that girl? Find yourself boring and colorless? Yes? Do NOT follow these tips. They have been tried, tested and over-tested on poor old friends for ages now. Only Charlie Chaplin can make them look funny again. Or you could try, at your own risk.

1. Make horns on your innocent friend's head when a group photo is being clicked. HOW INNOVATIVE, NA?

2. When that ignorant little friend of yours is about to sit, pull away the chair. They'll be so amused by this uncommon prank that you will see the face turn red. Just remember that redness of the face could be a result of various feelings—embarrassment, shyness, amusement, hurt or... absolutely crazy anger.

3. Bark crap when the friend (our specimen for the whole dissection, that is) gets a call from home. So while he/she is nervously mumbling, okay mom-yes mom-no mom, you're shouting out at the top of your voice—oye, is it your girlfriend/boyfriend on the phone? Hangover not yet over, mate, why do you drink so much? Dude, your cigarrete's smoke if suffocating me! It's okay yaar, you will pass in the next exam... I hope.
Funny or not, one thing is for sure—yours might just be the next photo to be received on Bob Biswas's phone. Ahem... God save you after that.

4. When someone is telling you something serious, interrupt, "hey, look who is behind you!" Numbed and shocked when they turn around to check who it is, break out, "April fool banaya... hee-hee!"
TRUST ME, you'll be marked the king/queen of poor jokes and pranks for an eternity!

5. Alright now, your friend has committed the heinous crime of sharing with you a secret; that too a secret about who his/her latest crush is. Needless to say, you have GOT TO: hmm-hmmmmmmm each time the crush passes by, grin devilishly (and make it visible too) if the two happen to be talking or, say, exchanging notes, and most importantly, ask for a ransom (read "TREAT") everyday on the pretext, "should I tell him/her how much you like him/her!? After all I'm your only true friend!"
If your friend doesn't end up cursing the day he started thinking that you're his/her "FRIEND", I'll change my name to... umm... 'Sugandha'. Promise.

Yeah yeah, I know I'm so funny. 

--
Enjoyed reading? Why not let me know? Drop in a comment below. And also, well, consider the like button. :P

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Things To Do On Valentine's Day: Tips for the single souls

Are you single? No, don't flatter yourself thinking it's a cheesy question from me. It's for you to answer to yourself. Are you single this Valentine's Day? Yeah? Alright, this post is for you. Just in case you've been wondering what will I do on the 14th of Feb... sob sob! these tips might help you.
So, how can you spend the most-dreaded day (for singles) without cursing yourself for it? These are my suggestions:

1. Get proposed with gifts and chocolates and everything called "romantic" in front of your friends. Mysteriously: Not as crazy as it sounds. You're in college with your friends, listening to their woes and nodding at the fact that Valentine's Day is just bullshit (for obvious reasons) and suddenly somebody comes in—carrying a bouquet full of flowers, loads of exotic chocolates and a pretty card with lots of hearts here and there, hands it all to an astonished you and says in the softest tone possible... somebody has sent this for you. Alright, the guy isn't anyone but, so what! You just rendered your friends to the highest levels of envy! They'll be burning inside seeing the lovelies you have just received! So what if they were ordered by, ahem, you only. Who's gonna find out how lucky, (or crazy), you are!

Don't forget to write on the card: will you be my Valentine? —Anonymous. "Anonymous"—now THAT is important. Because a) You don't want this to be discussed ever again, lest they start finding loopholes in your plan and b) It's the safest bet, for both guys and girls, I say. Enjoy.

2. Sit at home and do... nothing: Boring? Reading a post that promises tips on how to spend the Valentine's Day, d'you think YOU really can call something boring? And sitting at home is not as uninteresting as it sounds. In fact it's... normal, just your regular stuff. Just lock yourself up in your room, tell your family that you'll be working on a very important project all day so DND. No access to any newspapers, nor to the internet and you won't even remember what day it is. Okay, that might be a little 'difficult'. Curse me not, for difficult is this post.

3. Facebook!!!!!: Why lose hope when Facebook is there! Your partner for years, a true soul-mate, it won't disappoint you this time too, for sure. If there is one website that can never exhaust of the options of things-to-do, this, it is. This!

• Send out a bazillion friend-requests. Who knows, you might get your Valentine for the next year.
• Browse through girls' pictures. "Like" them (even if you don't) and post comments like, "you look so sweet:)" (even if she is looking like a disaster and her smile isn't worth a single penny). Deja vu moment, guys?
• Post philosophical status-updates talking about the love, which you do have. What is it? Aye, parents! You may or may not remember them on another day but on the Forever Alone Day they suddenly look like the most beautiful people you've been gifted with, no? Put up a status like: 'This love is superficial, friends. True love is the love you get from parents. Grow up!!!' (... ahan? You really think it's them who need to grow up, mister/miss pretentious? :P)
• The funny status updates never fail. You could post, "gotta accept one of the million pending proposals, man. :D" and you'll emerge a winner. Because a) both you and the readers know you're kidding b) both you and the readers know what the truth is.
  But at least, you get away with it... umm.. wittily!

4. Like all of 9Gag's "Forever Alone" pictures: Come on, you just find them a lot funny. Nothing personal. No no, no one will think it's your story. I hope.

5. Write a love story: Or a post to help others like you—or no, leave that out, only writers and bloggers can do that. In stead spend your time reading some of them. Ah, such a good option. Consider these posts by me. They became pretty popular when I wrote them. Although the stories, if you ask me, embarass me now. But they're on "love" nevertheless, might suit your taste. :P

• Love At First Sight
• The love maybe lost, but its memories are not
• Love story?????
• Let the loved know, how much they are loved.

6. Join the Shiv Sena: If none of the above works for you, this surely will. Being a Shiv Sainik gives you the official, unquestionable right to vent out your frustration at being single on those who aren't. Go about smashing windows, or maybe people's heads because they happen to have a date. In return you get a hundred reasons to state—why Valentine's Day is a crime according to our culture—and also that this is why you oppose it. (Yeah, whatever)

So, that was it. Five simple tips on how to spend the 14th of February differently. It's okay, it's okay, you don't have to thank me, haha. It is my responsibility to think in the benefit of my readers, come on, goodness comes to me naturally. :)
   Just make sure you've clicked on the like button (which was dysfunctional for SO long, till only today:-/) of this post. Why? Well, because this Valentine's I'll be sitting in front of my PC counting my blog's statistics. To each, his own! :P

Sayonara!

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Jagjit Singh (8.2.1941–10.10.2011)

Another demise. Of another man of brilliance extraordinaire. Isn't it strange, how people who don't even know of your existence, can cast such an inexplicable influence on your life, that their loss is shocking enough to wring your soul to tears.

 I was little, very little, when I first heard dad singing the ghazal Garaj Baras. Young, however I was, I so loved it. Heard it on several occasions from dad, and playing on one of his many cassette tapes often enough to be affected. What was strange was that, even when dad stopped listening to those cassettes after some time, the ghazal, the voice and the words, remained with me. So much so that, when I grew up and had internet access—which I didn't, till 12th standard— I looked it up one day and was just too happy to have finally found it. It's there in my phone still and I play it whenever the mood is a bit low and I feel like reflecting a little bit. I started listening to ghazals only because of the legend who is no more.

 I have seen him a lot on T.V, heard him and about him—from my parents, who'd tell me about his tragic life that witnessed the unfortunate death of his only son when he was just 21 and later, of his adopted daughter too. But he moved on, had to move on, and continued singing. It brings me to shivers, to think how hard it must have been, for him to let the musician in him to continue working, while the father in him was so broken.

 "Garaj Baras" that I talk of, isn't perhaps his most popular rendition. People's reminiscences of the legend, that are on right now, don't seem to be mentioning it; but for me, it is special and close to my heart. "Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho, kya gham hai jisko chupa rahe ho" is another one. But this is closest to me. I would suggest you to spend a little time listening to it and reflecting upon the words, if you listen to ghazal-music. If not, you might at least be able to measure the weight of the loss that the whole country is mourning.

 Some of its most moving lines:
 ...soch samajh waalon ko thodi nadaani de maula...
...jeene waalon ko marne ki asaani de maula...
...jhooton ki duniya mein sach ko, tabaani de maula...
...tere hote koi kisi ki, jaan ka dushman kyun ho...
...fir mandir ko koi meera, deewani de maula...

Here's the link:

 Won't say "R.I.P Jagjit Singh". If his soul can't rest in peace, no-one's can.

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On death, Steve Jobs and Steve Jobs' death.

On this day that the whole world mourns in unison, I can't help but contemplate over the two opposite facets of death — ironically the most inseparable part of life — as they flash in front of my eyes.


The last time so much was said and heard about someone's demise was when Osama Bin Laden — the most intimidating terrorist of all times, one whose very mention was enough to send shivers down the spine — was shot dead in what went on to be, one of the most talked-about missions ever undertaken in the history of mankind. At that time, the philosopher in me had prophesied:-Forget the basics of humanity and be staunchly 'religious' all your life. You too might die the most celebrated death ever.


On this day again, as people of the world seem wholly taken with the reminiscences of the man — Mr Steve-Apple-Jobs — the creative genius of an innovator who had the eye for an "I" that was going to change the very face of technology, and hopefully still will, the philosopher in me again wants to prophesy, for myself this time, that: if I were to die a death even a needle-point as mourned as this; if my dead soul was to be prayed for, honored and glorified even an atom's size as of the man who is no more, I'd know, sitting in heaven or hell — whatever may be the case — that mine was a life lived like none other . How I wish.


And this is not just to bask in the glory of the moment that I say all of this, I really mean it. Every word of it.
R.I.P Steve Jobs. 
Ironically, it's only now that you're dead, that the part of the youth hitherto untouched by your inspiring words, would know of the great who backs the mind of every budding entrepreneur today.  The man left a lot to learn from. For all of us.

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The Americans: an observation

The Americans are such hopeless narcissists that they just want to eliminate YOU from everywhere. Thus for them, "colour" becomes "color", "favour" becomes "favor" and so on.

Like I said, they just want to eliminate "U" from everywhere!

:D

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