Mera Naam Joker and the 123 Tag

I was planning to write a post on Saraswati Puja, as many of my blogger friends mistake her to be devi durga. but my laziness overtook. And now I found an interesting tag in the chaiwala's blog. And for something that interesting, i don't care to be tagged.
so here goes the rule:

Pick up the book closest to you. (OK, you can cheat, pick up the book closest to you that you like; but that’s about it - no more cheating). Go to page 123. Go to the end of the fourth sentence (not line). Write the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth sentences in your post. Follow it up with ten words or ten sentences about what that sentence means to you - then and there. Spontaneous!

I cheated. I looked for a book that I like. and I went to another room. Rejected harry potters, Roald dahl, inscrutable americans, how to draw cartoons and all my bengali books( as they are unsuitable for the task)...Finally found the one. "Mera naam Joker"- a novel on the Raj Kapoor movie.

Listen, son. Between ten hungry lions and one beautiful girl- do you know who's more dangerous?
I'm beginning to catch on a little, Ustad-ji. The one who's more beautiful is the more dangerous one.
Right, absolutely right. Remember this game of love is very dangerous. Beware of your limbs - and your heart!


There come some times when we all find ourselves in a circus. Love make us do all the stupid things we otherwise would never do. But it's also love which bring out the man from us. You know the game is dangerous, you can get hurt. Yet, the danger makes it more fun. You face her, spend some tensed moments without knowing what will happen, and the next moment you are all wounded. You quit the arena, but not the game. One day you'll be back, with a new lioness. Because it's your destiny to perform. And thus the naive boy will turn into an expert ringmaster one day.


I was not tagged. So I'm not tagging anyone. Feel free to take this tag. It's really wonderful.

Goddess of Learning

My Red Sweater

I've a red sweater. It used to be my favourite one. almost every other day it shield me form the winter by its warmth. And slowly it was taken for granted.
this winter, I went to a new place. I got new clothes to keep me warm. and I was quite happy. Then one day, while looking for something else, I found the red sweater. the colour seemed so bright, the warmth so welcoming. I remember how it used to be my favourite. And I wore it once again.

powered by performancing firefox

A Leafy Gift

5 years of studying botany has changed my view on plants. I no longer look at them as a beautiful creature, but something extremely dangerous, able to make your life hell along with the help of a special torture method for students called Taxonomy. The only plant group which is an exception is Fern. the reason may be that the laboratory work on ferns has just started.

But I love to collect fern leaves and use these as bookmarks. I came back from each excursions with some of the local ferns. But most of these get lost in the huge volumes of books that I should study, but I prefer not to. Not so long ago, I found one collected from the latest excursion inside my journal. That was my most favourite one.

I really liked that leaf. But then I decided to gift that to someone. I gave my little leaf to a lady who wanted to cage sunshine. She was someone I spend some good times with, and I thought of giving her something which may remind her of me at times. Gifts are a token of love. But for me, a gift is nothing, the thought associated with that is what counts. And I felt, if I want to give someone as good as her something, that thing should be the one I loved most.

But I was a bit tensed thinking whether she'd like that or not. But she seemed delighted and kept that in her diary.

I never knew one can be so happy even after giving away something he loved so much.

The Loo Hangover

Chetan Bhagat said how awkward it's to meet your boss in the washroom. well, I don't know about that.But you don't feel like throwing a party when you enter the loo wanting to relieve yourself and spot a Prof engaged in his private moments.

Actually, this should not happen as both the students and Profs have different washrooms to serve their purpose. But due to some mysterious reasons, our department have exchanged the washrooms. So the washroom we used to own, is now being used by the Profs, of course with loads of renovation.And The one we visit at critical moments, is the one previously used by the teachers.

But it seems that they are not as clear about the change as we are. So we occasionally find some of them there.And those moments pass thinking whether we should wish them, or smile or nod or simply ignore.
I prefer the last one.

Memories...

Delhi dreams has become reality and now it's a mere memory. but the sweetest memory. some people find it very funny that though i had spend 8 days in Delhi, I've not seen a single monument of Delhi. but if you ask my opinion, I don't regret.
for me, monuments are a part of history, and history is interesting because it's about people. so i prefer to see and meet people than monuments. moreover, i should have some reasons to visit Delhi next time.

when I planned to visit Delhi on Christmas, people advised me not to because of the extreme climate. but i really liked the winter in Delhi. i used to sit in the terrace at midnight to have a smoke before going to my bed.
but as I've already said, what i really liked about Delhi. is the people. well, I'm not talking about delhites generally, but the one i went to meet and stayed with.

i've never been to a blogger's meet, but everyday in Delhi was like one. i was staying with my brother soumyadip, who lives with his friends aklanta and varsha.

Soumyadip is like a celebrity blogger, aklanta is someone who blogs rarely but each of his posts is so good that you really wouldn't mind waiting for them. Varsha was the only one who still do not blog, but she also has plans to start soon. I met some of my friends. Bamby has nothing to do with blogs but is a wonderful friend to be with. and adi and deepti always impressed me with their poetic posts.

I spend a whole day with adi and deepti but not for a single moment i felt that i was meeting them for the 1st time in my life. i was just myself. and they had no problems accepting me with my lousy sense of humor.

If I want I can describe how we spend the 31st December visiting Agra, but Fatepur Sikri and Tajmahal are something most people will the same kind of emotions after visiting them. i thought about describing the wonderful people I met there and stayed with, but I've finally understood that words are a mere vehicle of human emotions. and it doesn't really matter if you don't express everything, the feeling is what matters most.

I couldn't say goodbye to my friends, but i don't even know how to say that properly. we'll meet again friends. we shall meet again.

My 1st visit to the national capital will not be mine last one. that's something I'm sure about.

The Great Indian Railway

If anything connects India more than cricket and BSNL, I think that's the Indian Railway. you would be able to find people from every province of India in a single buggy. and the gradual change in the language and the product of the hawkers from the start to the end of the journey always amazes me.

since childhood i'm fond of traveling by train, but these days the long journeys make me impatient. so I don't think i'll be loyal for a long time. and the condition of the toilet is the main factor for that.

my latest journey was more than 1500 kilometers and it took more than 24 hours( including the delay). while boarding the train from howrah station, I was shocked to see the coupe full of sardars with baggages as big as their bellies. but thankfully, they shifted somewhere else. I had a some bengali people with their family as my co passengers. there was a little girl who was a chatter box and didn't stop talking for a split second. i was amazed seeing how the two families got so close to each other in so little time, but when they got down together, i realized that they were traveling together because they are relatives.
for me train journey means reading a book, penning down a few lines in my journal, thinking a lot, and sleeping until my back starts aching. well, there are a few more things, but i don't want my blog to be the confession of all the illegal things that i do.

while coming back i also had a bengali family. but there were some non-bengali people , too. i was shocked by the couple's eating ability.i was convinced that they were two magicians in disguise. because the amount of food they had in train and considering all that came from the little bag, i was impressed by their magic. and while sleeping they also took out some blankets from their little bags. I was convinced that if they wanted, they could have put in the whole Poorva Express inside that bag. after eating the lady was reading a hindi magazine. i was a bit concerned about her husband, but i saw that with his amazing magic he's made the same cooking magazine to become something with mallika sherawat's pic with a title called, "haan. mein sexy hoon"

but the train journey is incomplete without the hawkers, the beggers, the enuchs and the food you buy from the station.
for the 1st three I'm not going to say anything, but as par as the last one is concerned, don't ever try chicken biriyani from mughalsarai. you'd consider turning a vegan.


while coming back for a momentI felt like, to somewhereI'm also like a train. for some time some people can't imagine their life without me and they enjoy being with me from the bottom of their heart. but after a little while, they move apart and don't even feel like saying good bye. and I got busy with some new people.

well, that's how life is.
you and me will spend our life like the parallel track of the rail, always beside each other. people will think that we'd merge at the horizon. but that's just an illusion. we'll always be at the same distance we were at the start of our journey.