THUD. .

Like a pink alien in springtime, I wander around all fuzzy and pink. A blue elephant in a fat flying bottle just missed me barely, from somewhere far away where he sits and reminisces, while his tired autopilot screeches and steers the bottle through a dizzy lane that bends and burns and bores like hell.

I seem to have recovered well from the unfortunate Dentrite Entanglement Accident last month, or last week, or however much it is to you from where you sit. So yeah, like a pink alien, which I am by the way, I keep sniffing about the road, hit a few Coke cans with my will (which is working fine now thanks for asking), and settle for an icecream.

The icecream was gay, not that I find anything wrong with it. But a gay icecream doesn't respond very well to the licks. Too well, actually. And they're really hard to swallow. As in, all pepped up for it. Gross. So I don't really see a point, really, you know what I mean? Too bloody small I say! Why can't they make 'em bigger and everybody will be able to see one and presumably lead happier lives.

Like you know, when the Battery died, no one really gave a shit. No you didn't I know, no one did. But I knew, I knew that someday we were all going to die because of that. But how clever, oh so very bloody clever of them to have named a day of the week on it. SomeDay just came and went. Nobody died. Nobody gave a shit, and then he was dead. And then nobody did anymore. I gulped the Humiliation, and then Realisation down. You are supposed to take them in order, or there may be gastric disorders. Maybe psychological too, but who cares about them after they put Happiness into every commoner's budget.

So yeah, the days of the week. And then the fetish started. SomeDay, ThatDay, TheDay, WhataDay, ShobhaaDay, ToDay, BirthDay, LauDay, YesterDay, and what not. And the commies even put in a MayDay, so they don't have to wait so long for it. Though I really fail to see the logic since all they do when it comes, is wait for the next one. You know its not normal when a month has a one-to-one correspondence with a week. Just like you know its not normal when its not normal. And hence it is not I say.

So yeah the Battery. It died. Moving on, did you notice the speeding blue elephant in a fat flying bottle approaching me from behind? I didn't. And he didn't miss me. Though he later will. But what good will that be to anyone. There is a right time for everything. Even for

This semester

This semester, I floated.
I dived and I gulped and burst and became a balloon and grew.
I understood. I danced.
I fought with an old friend and became one all over again.
I found a new one.
I walked on stage. I walked in glory.
I won. More than mere competitions.
I clapped and shouted.
I stood with my people in anger.
I realised. I was proud.
I walked in windy nights when trees screeched and turned.
I disintegrated with laughter.
I was in peace.
I made a presentation.
I impressed. I worked.
I was unsuccessful. I was happy.
I was funny. I was loved.
I was disgusted in people. I told them so.
I was transparent.
I was busy. And lucky.
I met people. I was impressed.
I acted. I made a movie.
I let things be.
I slept filled with music.
I saw a little boy who drove a motor cart.
I saw his shirt fighting with air while he sped.
I saw crabs. I saw a running shining swarm of big red scared crabs.
I fed a friend with my hands.
I sat on a chair in beach water and read.
I walked in the corridor a whole night in anxiety.
I saw beautiful girls I don't remember faces of anymore.
I saw a girl dance like she meant it.
I saw someone's tears washing away a whole mountain in me.
I saw eyes glazed with admiration. With surprise.
I was confused about the future.
I was happy with how it looked.
I ran. I jumped in water puddles.
I made a radio show in a night.
I was jobless. I was full.
I was jolly.

This semester.
I was so much.

Quotes by Famous People

Hi. - Oscar Wilde

Hieeee - Girl

I'm Wilde, - Oscar Wilde

I'm Oscar Wilde - God

He's lying - Oscar Wilde

I'm God - Manoj

I'm Oscar Wilde - Anonymous

I'm Anonymous - Oscar Wilde

I'm recursive - This Statement

Hieeee - Girl

Make love, not war - Anonymous

Ok I'm NOT Anonymous - Oscar Wilde

He's lying - Anonymous

He's not - Anonymous

Cheater! You can't quote as me! - Anonymous

Ofcourse I can, you're Anonymous. - Oscar Wilde

No ofcourse you can't. I'm dumb. - Oscar Wilde

What! You can't quote as me! - Oscar Wilde

Ofcourse I can, you're Oscar Wilde! - Anonymous

Hieeee - Girl

Hallelujah! - Pope

I'm out - Oscar Wilde

He's not - out

He's not - not

Oh damn - not

Oh damn - not

Byeeee - Girl

21 ways to climb a tree.

1. Try climbing it.
2. Call Superman.
3. Fall from a height more than that of the tree.
4. Make sure you fall from directly above the tree.
5. Whisper like you're saying something to it and jump when it bends to listen.
6. Use The Force.
7. Say it aloud like you mean it.
8. Believe in Barack Obama. Ho sakta bhaaya.
9. Wear pants as long as the tree and stand straight.
10. Concentrate. There is no Tree.
11. Take a lift.
12. Look at a snake on the ground, get startled, jump with fear, hang from a branch shaking.
13. Stare the tree down. Then climb.
14. Bribe it.
15. Threaten to piss on it.
16. Disguise like a monkey so it would let you.
17. Hit the iron when it's hot.
18. Grow smaller trees near it and climb them in order of height.
19. List out 21 ways to climb a tree.
20. Cheater, you never got here!
21. Oh damn, Loop Counter!

Tomato

A tomato never swears. Just doesn't. So how would you know if its angry. Ofcourse its color is only a lie.

It does something else to signify anger, it expands. Yes. Trust me. So dont eat a tomato that was small when you were looking at it from a distance, and suddenly went fat when you brought it to your mouth. Don't eat that one, its angry.

Its the same with ego sometimes, but we won't talk about them. Egos don't make sense, tomatoes do.

A tomato's best friend is a fridge. They all love a fridge. It makes them look cool, makes up amply for the angry red color.

A tomato makes love.

Balls are jealous of tomatoes. Balls don't get touched so sensually. And they're not juicy. Its important to be juicy.

A tomato has never been born that liked a shopping bag. Shopping bags are concentration camps. Tomatoes like to have their space.

All tomatoes are scared of heights. Unlike coconuts. And ofcourse, coconuts evolved to be so hard only because they had to fall from such heights. And even though a fallen coconut cannot procreate, whether hard or not, being hard can only be a help right.

Tomatoes hate a blunt knife. It makes them look messy. They dream in wet nights of a sharp sleek knife that will come one day, shine against the falling light, make a few flashes here and there just for effect, and cleanly and swiftly swim through the orgasmic tomato to come out glorious and blessed.

A tomato will have reached its destiny, and its soul will fly away, stand in a long line somewhere under the earth, waiting for a farmer to plant a seed.

Every life has a story

Every newborn has happiness.
Every step has achievement.
Every kid has a hero.
Every boy has a dream.
Every teen has humiliation.
Every breakup has a lesson.
Every girl has a secret crush.
Every adult has rebellion.
Every livelihood has compromise.
Every marriage has a promise.
Every birth has incredulity.
Every father has hope.
Every white strand of hair has a story.
Every parent has worry.
Every school holds future.
Every teacher has power.
Every college makes a generation.
Every life has a desire.
Every old man has a regret.
Every death has a loss.

Rohit Kumar will be remembered.

IIT Kharagpur is home to thousands of the brightest minds of the country, who are a formidable asset to the nation as a whole. We are intelligent men, sincere students, respectful children and proud beings. The events that've unfolded since the morning today have shaken us all to the core. This day has acquainted us in scary detail with the callousness of the people that have total and absolute control over our very lives. These people are the administration of IIT Kharagpur, the gods who rule this secluded wilderness called Kgp in the middle of nowhere. They hold our breaths in their fists, and they don't even seem to give it very much importance.

Rohit Kumar, a 3rd year student of IIT Kharagpur, fell from a rickshaw this morning, and had a head injury. The injury wasn't fatal and only required apt and urgent medical care. The very unfortunate events that took place then, have been now etched in the memory of every student of IIT Kharagpur in permanent ink. After about 4 hours from the incident of the injury, Rohit left us. He died an unimaginable death in unbearable pain. Something had killed him, and it wasn't the injury.

Rohit was taken straight to B C Roy Hospital, the campus medical facility in IIT Kharagpur, for treatment without any delay. B C Roy is the only hospital in the institute and Kharagpur doesn't really boast of any other hospital, being the village that it is. As Rohit reached the B C Roy Hospital, henceforth called only as B C Roy, it so happened that there was no doctor available at the moment. And in this respect, this moment was no different from any other moment. It is the norm. And so a doctor was rang and called, to attend to the medical emergency. The doctor arrived on the scene as soon as he could I'm sure, but still about 2 hours late. Through these two hours the injured student had been bleeding, as well as not being taken a good care of.

The doctor anyway did arrive and made his diagnosis, which was this - 'I can't do anything about this'. A neurosurgeon was required for treating the wound worsened badly by the delay. And it only just so happens that IIT Kharagpur provides for no neurosurgeons, or any other such specialists for that matter. And nor does it keep a list of them, or their contacts in case of an emergency. And hence the only option now is to take the terminally unfortunate student to Kolkata, as is always the case anyway. An ambulance was called promptly, atleast as promptly as B C Roy can be expected to, and then they waited. The injured student with the bleeding wound waited, as the ambulance too took its fair share of hours to promptly arrive on the scene.

Finally the ambulance does arrive, and isn't very different in spirit than the doctor who had arrived earlier. It too certainly looks its rightful ineptness, but there being no option, is anyway used for the purpose. The matter is now already very clearly of life and death. And given the pressing circumstances and the eagerness of the doctor to help his patient, you would expect him to not accompany the patient to the hospital in Kolkata and not take care of him along the way and not let his life be saved, which is exactly what he did. The patient was departed aboard a rickety ambulance van with two of his friends, a driver and a pharmacist, with an exceptionally weak gut, ample apathy, and 'I can't take any decisions' syndrome.

The rickety van rocks through the way and the patient, now in proximate fatal danger, rocks with it. His needled hands falling of the seat, his bleeding head lolling into the wall hitting it with every pothole on the road. His two friends in the backseat trying to keep him steady and comfortable, keeping him from falling off the seat, and the pharmacist trying to comfy his bum on the front seat alongside the driver. After about 10 minutes of being on the van, Rohit's friends discover that the oxygen mask that he's wearing, isn't really working. The oxygen cylinder is off and hadn't been turned on.

The oxygen mask was then turned on by the friends, not the pharmacist. After a little more of the journey, gory things begin to happen. Rohit spouts blood from his mouth into the mask. No one has a clue what to do now, and the doctor back in B C Roy is called up. The pharmacist, at this juncture, feels compelled to go into a shock of inaction, and the instructions given by the doctor on the phone are carried out by Rohit's own friends. It is then decided that Kolkata, being too far, cannot be afforded at this time. The patient is instead now to be taken to Midnapore. B C Roy Hospital is called up and asked to inform Spandan Hospital in Midnapore to arrange for the treatment and care of the incoming patient.

Against all humanity and compassion, Spandan had no such information and refused to admit the patient while Rohit's friends frantically tried to arrange for his treatment. Amidst this shrieking inhumanity, Rohit, then, took his last breath.

A life was lost.

And it wasn't due to the injury.
.