Here they come again,
Harder than ever before
Tears streaming down my face
My heart becomes sore

These tears are more than just water
They carry more than just hurt
They fill up my eyes,
And make my vision a blur

My heart yearns to let its guard fall
But that has become my greatest fear of all
For everyone I once loved and did so much for
Are drifting away, I barely know them anymore

Well that end has come too fast
So much for best friends
I thought this would last
Now it's all in the past
 
I know it's not the same with everyone
There are trustworthy people who care a ton
Some friends really do care
Friendship like that is really rare

I hope I get a few friends who will stay by my sideL

This is a poem i came across in the net. It describes my current state of mind accurately. I am feeling terribly sad and absolutely alone in this world.  Don't worry ilanders I know I'll bounce back and start writing witty incidents again. This is just a passing phase. Who knows I may manage to get a special friend tomorrow.:)

On the 15^th of August this year I had a tryst with destiny. I had vowed to myself, the previous day that I would try my hand at making the delicious but tricky Dosa. Now, the Dosa is my favourite snack and often doubles up as my lunch as well. But a deep rooted fear in me keeps me from preparing the Indian pancake, although I have been known to gaze admiringly at the wayside street vendors who convert the sickly white & sticky batter into mouthwatering,  golden, crisp dosas.

The  Independence day seemed most auspicious for such an adventurous venture. I fish out all the recipes that my thoughtful, well meaning, southie friends had provided over the years. The most elaborate one ran into more than a couple of pages and had been dictated to me by my mature Mallu friend who is rumored to have a penchant for turning out perfectly rounded dosas.;) With all the documentation handy, I feel confidence creeping into me and Project-D kicks off as I soak the rice & urad dal.  

Late in the evening, I check on the mixture. It seems ripe for grinding. I decide to shun all phoren technology as I elect to use the grinding stone over my faithful mixie. I wait for a min wondering whether to break a coconut before the action begins. A Mahurath seems to be in order and the coconut can always be used up for making the chutney later. Naah! I shake my head, voting against my own brilliant idea. With no spot boys around I would only have to clean up the mess myself.  I sit cross-legged on the floor and start grinding the mixture in earnest. Ouch! This is worse than working out at the gym, I moan to myself as I put on wrist bands to protect my delicate kalai;). An hour of Bump & Grind produces only a few ounces of paste, not enough to feed a two-month old baby. The rest of the mixture miraculously finds its way on my person and as I stand up with difficulty I can well & truly sympathize  with the opponent of the Olympian- Vijender Kumar.

Soon after, I find myself greeting the delivery boy eagerly as he hands me a Large pizza with all those extra toppings.  I wonder if I should now yell Mama Mia instead of ‘Mera Bharat Mahan’ J

. 

PAKISTANI MATHS QUESTION PAPER

Instructions:

-----------------

i) Students found copying will be shot on the spot.

ii)Any student coming late after 10 minutes after the exam starts will be forced to join Al Qayda group.

iii)AK-47's and Grenades are not allowed in the exam hall. Students may keep their daggers, Revolvers and pack of anthrax bombs only for self defense.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Math Exam Time 3 hours Full Marks 100

All questions are compulsory.

1. Abdul was sent to jail for murder .He has 7 wives in his house.

Abdul distributed money to his wives in such a proportion that the youngest and most recent wife receives maximum and oldest wife gets minimum, and each wife gets double of her former competitor. Abdul has Rs 1700  left in his house. Abdul's oldest wife needs atleast Rs 25  per month. Find out the time when Abdul will have to break Jail to come out and earn money so that his wives do not starve.

2. Karim is a Drug seller. Prices per gram of Marijuana, hasis, haroine and LHD s are Rs 50, Rs 60,Rs 70,Rs 80  respectively. Karim offers a discount of Rs 20 for his buyers who buys more than 50 grams of drug. If Rahim , a buyer gets Rs 37 discount , find out the grams of LHD he bought.

3. Imran tampers the ball thrice per over. He deforms the ball .02% of its original shape each time . Find the percentage of deformation of the ball due to tampering in a one day series against India in which Imran bowled 9.3 overs.

4. Rauf has a Company named Al Allah Kidnapping & Murder Private Limited. He has to threat 10 people per day over Telephone. 40% of the people he threats are cinema stars in Mumbai, 30% are Businessman in Delhi, 20% are Cricket Players in Madras and 10% are shopkeepres in Calcutta . If ISD charges are Rs 15, Rs 25, Rs 40, Rs 50 per minute from Rauf's city Islamabad to Bombay, Delhi,Calcutta and Madras respectively and he gets a Telephone bill of Rs 10,230 in a month Find out The No of Cinema stars in Mumbai ,threatened in that particular month.

5. A terrorist group has to provide one Ak 47.one AK 49,one Rocket Launcher, 50 Grenades and one pack of RDX to its Ron roots for training.One AK 47 costs 100$; One Ak 49 costs 150 $,A Bazuka rocket Launcher costs 250 $ , grenade is 3 $ each, a pack of Rdx Bomb attached with remote Control is 500 $.

The terrorist group admits 2000 new people every year out of which 30 % are court-martialed. Find the amt of Foreign Money Pakistan Govt has to provide each year to run such a group.

6. If stabilty of democratic Govt. in pakistan is given by the following equation X exp3 +X exp2 -16 = i, where the notations have their usual meaning; Find out x.

7. Probaliblity of a Pakistani prime minister to be shot is 78 %.

Probabilty of a Military general to be shot is 80% ..

Find the joint probability of a Prime minister to be shot who is also a Military general.

8) Find out geometrically the area of Paktunistaan using PI Theorem with Osama BIn Ladens Correction (That is taking the value of PI = 786 instead of 3.14....), if Paktunistaan is taken as a heptagon..

9) A 'GHAURI' missile tries to fly from Drass to Kargil which is not too far from Drass (say 100 miles) and is exactly to the East of Drass . The wind is blowing from the South and the speed of the wind is exactly equal to the speed of the airplane. (The speed of the airplane is measured with respect to the air!) The pilot decides to steer straight to Kargil all the time during the flight.

Will the airplane ever reach Kargil ? What if the speed of the wind is k times the speed of the airplane, where k is a positive number (can be greater or less than 1)? Try to sketch the trajectory of the airplane (with respect to the ground, of course) in each of the three cases:

k=1, k1 and k<1.

10) Briefly discuss the Unsolved problem of "Bisection of a Triangle" with a Compass and an unmarked ruler if the triangle is named as KASHMIR.

* This is a forward I received. Not an original post

It was a particularly grueling week and I looked forward to Sunday-my day of rest.  I vowed to let my tired old skeleton have a well deserved rest and accordingly instructed my mom to let sleeping Kavita lie on the Sabbath day. Thus I went to bed on Saturday night, eager to go zzzzz, hoping to be resurrected by noon the following day. 

I was soon well into the dreamless and all was well with my world. The world lightened up a bit as the first wisp of a dream floated across. Aha! What a world it was! Where the women wore trousers, ordered pizzas for dinner and periodically bashed up the male members if they shirked their housekeeping duties. Yeeaaoow! A scream rang out jolting me wide awake. It was followed by a burning sensation on my cheek as I found myself being thoroughly slapped by my mother at the ripe old age of 40. I had apparently tried bashing her up while committing male infanticide in my utopian dream.

I turned back and soon was locking horns with the Congress & BJP. Eventually I had Advani & Sonia eating from the same platter. Pleased with my effort the blue turbaned premier thumped me on the back with such force that I woke up. Looking around, I saw the thick sheaf of Sunday papers strewn around. The paperwala with his unerring aim had managed to land the papers plonk in my middle. It was 6 A.M. Grrrrrr! I shook my fist at the world as I prepared to face the morning. Not to worry, I consoled myself, you can always sleep after lunch. 

Lunch turned out to be a heavy affair with my bro & his family joining in. I made a beeline for the bed almost at once, determined to complete my quota of sleep. My 4 year old niece was not amused. She promptly tried jumping over me repeatedly and was soon convinced that I was as inanimate as a table. Then she brought out her miniature cooking set and proceeded to cook up a storm on my tummy. I shut my eyes tightly and gradually sank into oblivion.

Sounds of raised voices, running feet, crying, yelling pierced at my consciousness and I found myself wide awake. It was dark all around and I felt like I was buried deep under the earth. I tried to get up but couldn’t. The covers were wound tightly around me and a pillow rested on my face. I cried & kicked at the same time trying to emerge into the open. After what seemed an eternity I finally managed to free myself and tumbled out of the bed.

A hushed silence descended among the crowd in the next room as I stood at the doorway. Then all Hell broke loose. Where have you been? Cried a voice. Don’t you know that you should to inform before leaving house?  Said another in stern admonition. Did you know that we were about to report you as missing? Asked a third indignant voice. I tried painstakingly to convince the crowd that I had been firmly rooted to my bed all the time. Talk of tall stories, whispered a neighbour as she turned away in disgust. My brat of a niece looked angelic as she explained that she had only tried to be a good girl and had made up the bed with her immobile Aunt under the covers.

Hrrrrmp! I grunted. My mistake. Next time I want to go zzzzzz, I’d better lease a remote island on the Pacific Ocean. So all you ilanders out there, if you happen to have an island handy please give me a call.J

HH gradually started settling down. He insisted that we communicate with him via gtalk even if we were all just a few feet away. Keeping himself enclosed within his cool comfortable cabin, he painstakingly typed out instructions to all of us, lesser individuals. Soon, the office had people on tenterhooks as the junior techies were advised to distribute work and provide guidance, the content writer was told to keep the employee leave records up-to-date & the data entry operator was requested to provide an estimate for the next project. Ofcouse he followed it up with an apologetic ‘wrong window’ almost immediately, for HH was a honourable man. 

Life, took an inevitable turn for the worse when HH woke up and wanted to share his expertise with the technical teams. One day, he parked himself on Ashok’s desk just before lunch and started tucking into the sumptuous Aloo Parathas from his lunch box. Ashok  stared in mute disbelief, his face growing longer & longer as the Boss declared his gratefulness by letting out a  satisfied Burp. Ofcourse he immediately offered a piece of dry Brown Bread toast(HH was on perpetual diet) in exchange which was politely declined by a grieving Ashok. Afterall,  HH was  a honourable man.

Days passed and we learnt to work under the able guidance of HH. Meena, our data entry operator looked worried as she went over the data, one fine day. On enquiring, she revealed that she was unable to decipher the gender of certain Latin Americans in the list and hence could not decide whether they should be addressed as Mr or Ms. Such unique problem required the services of His Highness-the HH. So poor Meena was left trying to explain her problem repeatedly while HH listened intently trying hard to understand. Realization dawned at last. I get it now, beamed HH, you are, apparently, having a sex problem. The entire office looked horrified and Meena promptly burst into tears. Pandemonium raged as everyone spoke at once, some explaining, others consoling, yet others simply laughing uncontrollably.  

It’s been almost a year now and HH still reigns supreme as do his howlers. His antics are told and retold to all & sundry regularly and consequently we have become the envy of the town for having such an Entertaining Boss around.

You will soon be getting a new Boss, boomed my Big Boss, over the phone, all the way from the US of A.  But, I began in earnest, determined to be the argumentative Indian, when BB hung up on me. Grrr, I growled to myself as I rapidly spread the news around. Soon, the office hummed as its inmates tried to conjure up new ways of sucking up to the new boss.  Over the week we learned that our future superior was indeed superior to all of us poor desis, having lived & worked for more than 15 years in Canada, he had condescended to honour us with his presence because one fine morning he had suddenly cried out ‘Mere Paas Ma Nahin Hai’ and realized that Mommy dearest had no intention of leaving the black hole of Calcutta for the greener Canadian pastures.

The D-day dawned at last. I reached office early by an hour in order to ensure that everything was in the state of readiness for His Highness, the Head Honcho. After assuring myself that all was well, I resigned to my cubicle for checking my mails. A loud commotion outside saw me running towards the source. A giant of a man was speaking to the office boy in rapid British accented English whereas the boy was gesticulating violently, his entire repertoire of English(consisting of Yes, No & Very Good), having been long exhausted. I hurriedly introduced myself and showed him to his room. A quick glance earned me a grunt of approval and I snatched the opportunity to offer him a cup of tea or coffee. Tea? Coffee? He looked bewildered. You know, I always have a glass of warm milk in the morning, he said forlornly. Will it be possible to arrange for it? He asked. I promptly tumbled out of the room, itching to enquire  whether I would have to arrange for a feeding bottle as well.   

Peace reigned for an hour or two. I left HH(head honcho for all u ignorant people)J to get acquainted with the techies and tried to sort out my work.  Crash! Bang! Crash! The sounds reverberated round the room. I ran towards the workstation and found HH lying prostrate on the feet of our junior most techie-Rajeev. The other guys just stood around, their faces turning all shades of purple with suppressed laughter. The chair had apparently decided to commit suicide after having to bear his weight. Many willing & some unwilling hands helped him up. The chair is not working, he announced firmly before limping back to his room.

* To be continued*

Friends, Rediffans & Ilanders, I’m back. I had been away for a long time from this blogger’s  paradise and a few of my rediffmates had very kindly enquired about my whereabouts. This post is to reassure them that I am still alive and kicking. In the existing state of affairs it’s more of the latter than the former. After all I am a kind old soul and can never, I repeat, never leave all my friends alone to face the global warming without me. But still, I suppose I owe you all an explanation to clear the air so to speak. Let me recall why I had been abstaining from playing the keyboard while logged into rediff iland.

Reason No #1: My Big Bad Boss found out about my blogging.
In he walked one fine morning, amazingly silent for all his girth and looked over my shoulder into the amazing world of rediff. He, then, enthralled me with the DS (deadly stare for all u ignorant people out there) and proceeded to give me hell. All of a sudden, I found work, work & more work piling up on my desk leaving me gasping for breath & brain dead from sheer fatigue.

Reason No #2: I was bogged down by a vice called laziness:

I would have been able to continue writing if only our scientists could have discovered a machine to clone people. That way I could have sent my clone to appease my boss and would have carried on blogging to my heart’s content. Idea! On second thoughts we should have been able to print money on our HP, Canon & Epson printers. Afterall if we can print air tickets, hotel vouchers & movie tickets online why not the most important paper in our lives?  Alas! My wishes did not come true and I found myself unable to resist the lure of my bed and consequently my PC gathered dust throughout the month.

Reason #3: My non-existent brain went on strike:

After I started blogging, I was rather impartial and posted serious, philosophical and  informative blogs. Later on I discovered that I can be myself if I post amusing anecdotes of my everyday life. Being serious and staid wasn’t really my cup of tea in spite of the thick glasses that I wore. But my non-existent brain would  have none of it and the left side threatened to withdraw support while I continued to make peace by writing an occasional bad poetry. This went on for a while until the D-day when taking a cue out of the Gujjars, my NE brain finally rebelled and all blogs came to a STOP.

So now that you have all the reasons for my doing the vanishing act, I hope that you will forgive me and accept me back into your fold.  I assure you that from now on my keyboard will continue to rattle regularly and you will be bored to death by the events of my ordinary life once again week after week after week. So help me God!

Monsoons have arrived in Kerala, I informed my Mom. Time to get our monsoon gear ready. Oh it will take at least 3 days to reach us, my mother assured me, firmly convinced that the monsoon will be boarding the Howrah-Trivandrum Express. Thus assuaged, I went off to sleep with no rainy thoughts clouding my brain.

 I lay, slumbering peacefully, lulled by a gentle pitter-patter outside. Boom! I sat up suddenly on the bed as my window lit up followed by the earsplitting sound of thunder. The gentle drizzle had turned into a torrent and as I peered outside I could only make out a white sheet of water cascading from the inky black sky. The Monsoon had arrived with a Bang!

I hastily tried to get ready for office yearning to take a rainy day off. Don't behave like a spoilt kid, I chided myself, you know that you cannot afford to lose a day. Better check the local news first, I thought as I switched on the TV. A grim face appeared on the screen for an instant then everything went black. Uh-Oh! The electricity board had decided to team up with Mother Nature rendering me completely powerless. Running water was the next to go. I hurriedly dry-cleaned myself, hoping to brave the weather Gods en route to office.

My mouth gaped in astonishment as I looked at the vast expanse of water instead of the busy thoroughfare. Not a vehicle in sight. No worries, I encouraged myself, I will make it yet. For the first time I noticed that a few bricks had been placed randomly within the water, making it convenient for people to cross the road without wetting their feet. I blessed the Good Samaritan silently as I proceeded to hop, skip & jump, brick to brick. This sure beats all adventure games hollow, I mused to myself, experiencing an Adrenaline Rush every time my foot landed successfully on a wobbly brick. Heart-in-mouth I managed to clear the first level and found myself safely across.

I stared, aghast at what the future had in store for me. The road or what had been the road previously had been dug up to lay sewerage pipes along it. Now I would have to cross a ditch  filled with muddy water with the help of a rotting plank placed across it. I was tempted to cry Nahiii! Like the hapless Bollywood heroine of yesteryears. But with no hero around, I steeled myself to climb onto the perilous plank along with my co-passengers. We shuffled gingerly across it, like trapeze artists, arms akimbo, inching towards our destination. Finally we were there. I leapt on to the terra firma, causing the plank to tilt downwards and consequently dislodging the man behind me as I released the pressure by jumping off. I pretended to be deaf as curses rained down on me.  

A bus was waiting for us. I clambered on to it. My office was honoured when I strode in at last, a good 3 hours late, sporting a wild & wet look that would have put the Lakme supermodels to shame.

The rise in petrol prices proved disastrous for the nation as the political parties went into an overdrive with protests, rallies, bandhs, hartals and what not. I looked happy as I bid a respectful adieu to my boss on Wednesday only to be warned that we have to keep the office fires burning on Saturday. My mood crashed with a thud as I yanked my bag onto my shoulder, muttering ominously to myself. The bag decided to divorce itself from the strap at that moment and I was left staring at it lying on the floor, its contents spilling over, while the strap continued to swing merrily from my not so petite shoulder. 

I was devastated, not because I had to go through the trouble of buying a new one but because I had to transfer the entire contents from their place of rest and reorganize them into their new abode. And hey! I really had no idea what surprises my bag might throw up. Now all you techies out there, don’t look bored. I’m certainly not going to brag about my laptop bag, simply because I don’t own one. Now isn’t that a shame? And to think that I’m the second most important person in the office, the first being the office boy who locks and unlocks the office everyday, where I spend the rest of the day listening to my boss going Grrrrrrr. Ungrateful beasts, the lot! 

Finally coming back to the subject in hand. My bag. I try to sift  through the contents quickly, determined not to overload my swanky new bag. A precaution that had been overlooked while stuffing its predecessor. I gingerly take out the root of all evils, my wealth, which looks insufficient once it is released from the confines of the container. Money isn’t everything, I console myself as I prepare to dig deep into the murky depths of my bag. What have we here? I stare in astonishment as I bring up 4 pens and a half eaten bar of Cadbury’s chocolate. I try them out, one by one, the paper yields as I try desperately to scribble on it with my new found treasures. I put them aside, determined to get rid of them as I gingerly bite into the Cadbury. A pained ex-pression crosses my face, as I remember that I am on a diet. You must exercise, I rebuke myself. I fling away the chocolate and take a couple of steps to the fridge, walk 2 steps back again with a fresh chocolate bar as a reward for my 4 step walk.  

I dig again, and find a handful of folded papers staring up at me. Aaila! Love letters, I must be the ultimate femme fatale, the recipient of such numerous notes of amorous nature! I’m all agog as I slowly begin to unravel the papers. Hmm! I snort in disgust as my eyes take in the old grocery lists, reminders from my mom, my nephew’s list of computer games & an odd bill or two. My romantic bubble bursts as I reach the end of the pile without discovering a single declaration of loveL My next lot reveals a couple of cheque books without any leaves. It confirms that my finance is experiencing the Fall even as Monsoon peeps over India. I also come up with a handful of revenue stamps which makes me wonder if I am related to a certain Telgi by an outside chance.

But all is not lost. Of course I retain the most important things too.  The keys to my flat, the keys to my letter-box, my mobile charger and the most important tool of all……Awww! Where is it? I turn my bag upside down and inside out, No Luck!.:( Oh God! @#$@*&^%! What will I do now? I have been rendered immobile and don’t remember my own No., never having had the opportunity of calling myself. Heeeelp! 

‘Drinking Coffee bad for health’, my eyes took in this informative bit of news as I sipped on my daily dose of caffeine. I turned over to other more interesting & happening news while my heart sang a defiant ‘kuch toh log kahenge, logo ka kaam hai kehna’. Come what may, I can never think of deserting my favourite beverage, not even in my wildest dreams.

I still remember being fascinated by the alluring aroma of filter coffee wafting in from our neighbourhood in Secunderabad, where my father had been posted all through the 70s and the early 80s. Someday, I vowed, I will grow up and have coffee every morning. This solemn promise was uttered as we (me & bro), poured away our creamy milk through the wide open window.

Chai Nakko! I informed my Mom primly in Hyderabadi Hindi as a cup of weak tea was placed in front of me one fine morning. I was in for a rude shock as I realized that my ancestral roots were still deeply implanted in Bengal which housed the world famous tea growing district of Darjeeling. My rebellion was quashed promptly and I got used to drinking tea while dreaming of the illusive coffee.

Years later, I had my way as I made my daily coffee on an electric heater in my hostel room. But Alas! The path of true love is never smooth. Well meaning friends advised me that drinking too much of coffee was bad for your complexion. You may become dark yet, they warned me. As it is, you are tall, wear glasses and horror of horrors, are a science student. Don’t you think that the boys would be eager to race in the opposite direction once they chanced upon you? Remember that tall & dark are not high qualifiers for a woman; they tried to make me face the truth. I pondered over these sagacious remarks and ditched my love. My favourite cup was back in my hands within a week as I discovered that be it tea or coffee it was never me that the handsome hunks had in their minds.   

Marriage saw me changing into a responsible housewife, up at dawn, brewing tea for husband & his family. Other domestic chores followed in quick succession and most days my cup of tea lay neglected to one side while I battled with the emergencies within the kitchen. Coffee was an honoured guest in the winters, prepared with care, sipped slowly & then banished from the kitchen with the advent of spring.

Time flew by and I suddenly found myself alone again. I was now free to return to my beloved beverage-Coffee. And I have done so with a vengeance.  Each evening I rush back home, looking forward to my cappuccino and the well deserved rest in front of the TV. Phir?  Mein aur meri coffee aksar baatein karte hai, tum na hote toh kya hota? And the love story continues……….