Ah!!bugger...

This would probably be the first story that I ever wrote, barring the ones that I used to write for my English exams at school. Found this on an old battered down leather covered diary. A story about hope. Ah! Such is the naivety of youth. ******************************************** The moon peaked through the drifting clouds to bleach the green slopes of the valley of Antica with a haunting shade of white. The few log huts that lay scattered over the hills, lay dark and quiet. Their owners sleeping peacefully in their beds after spending a long tiring day on the slopes of Mt.Antica, where they were out grazing their sheep, little aware of the approaching danger. A distant blood curling howl was heard in the valley, echoing off the surrounding mountains that towered overhead. Though none of the shepards heard it, for it was too little a noise to wake such tired souls, but it was heard by their beasts of labour and caused great distress and agitation amongst them. They all kne

Maybe I should try sleeping.

“George was full of hatred. Of his own weakness and stupidity, of his magic, of the stubbornness and the pride of Beatrice and Marit, and, last of all, hatred of Dr. Gharn, who had started it all. But the hatred swayed to pity. Then to hopelessness. Then back to anger. Every once in a great while, he felt a moment of peace, usually when he caught a glimpse of Beatrice and Marit together.  He loved them both in different ways. But that could not be. He turned away, and the cycle began again." ( The things I read. Bleh! )

Bill Watterson on Susie, Susie is earnest, serious, and smart - the kind of girl I was attracted to in school and eventually married. "Derkins" was the nickname of my wife's family's beagle. The early strips with Susie were heavy-handed with the love-hate conflict, and it's taken me a while to get a bead on Susie's relationship with Calvin. I suspect Calvin has a mild crush on her that he expresses by trying to annoy her, but Susie is a bit unnerved and put off by Calvin's weirdness. This encourages Calvin to be even weirder, so it's a good dynamic. Neither of them quite understands what's going on, which is probably true of most relationships. I sometimes imagine a strip from Susie's point of view would be interesting, and after so many strips about boys, I think a strip about a little girl, drawn by a woman, could be great. Some context: So, Susie and Calvin are supposed to be partnering up in class for a project on the p

I woke up to the roll of thunder. It was around midday (now there, don’t judge me. I’m cool!) A wind swept across my room. Now, that is something truly rare. It is my belief, that a storm could rage on outside with houses, trees and choo-choo trains flying around in it, but not a speck of wind will cross the threshold of my room. It is THAT depressing. I sleep with the balcony door leading roadwards, open, something that drives my father mad for fear of robbery but then, unless I do that, my room tends to become a furnace. Eggs boil themselves over when brought into my room. With the recent curbs on cooking gas imposed by the government, it may not be such a bad thing after all, but more on that later. So I wake up with storm clouds brewing outside. It is truly a heavenly sight. Summers are too hot, winters are cold(not too much, but I’m sensitive) but it is the monsoons that I think holds the calendar together. What better feeling than the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops falli

The little bell jingled softly as the cart rounded a corner and swung into Park Lane . The tree leaves cast a shade on the road, the sun glimmering in through gaps in the branches. On one side of the road, lined houses, red brick, with little chimneys on top. Some had a small wooden fencing, some, with small lawns where little children ran about with toys in hand. On the other side of the lane, as the name suggested, was a park. Not too big, lined by trees and little bushes, neatly trimmed, the grass was lush green and soft and springy, little slides and swings lined one end of the park where children of many ages jumped and ran around. Under the shade of the trees, were wooden benches, where their parents and babysitters sat around, keeping a watchful eye on them, some knitting, some chatting, some reading in the glistening rays of the setting sun. All this stopped with the little jingle of the bell mounted on top of the cart, as it ambled up the road. It was a small cart, ran on thr

I had this as my ringtone for years before my memory card died on me. How I loved this song. And once more, just like that, it changes everything. I've gotten back my mojo(for now atleast.) Burn melancholy, burn!  Yes, and I still jump and jiggle and scream to this one. Magic, oh Danny boy, sheer magic! P.S. Yeah, yeah, jukebox and all, I know. But I needed this! :P

Sagnik gleefully explained it to be my karma. Maybe I did deserve it, but still, universe, stars, moon, planets, and all the holy shooting stars notwithstanding, I'm not going to roll over now, or am I? How does one learn to give up? Is patience a virtue, or is it the inability to act? I know what I'm going to do, I've always known that, I'm predictable in a way. The thing that bugs me, is what I ought to do. A nice pickle I've landed up into. I demand my mojo back! Gah!

Well I've been facing a lot of flak lately for apparently turning this blog into a bit of a jukebox. Going over the whole thing, turns out, it isn't far from the truth. Man, I hate it when people are right about me. Yes, I do have seemingly infinite free time so listen to seemingly infinite amounts of music and posting them here for various meanings and purposes. Let's face it, I'm an engineering student, so what else could I possibly be doing with my time? Also, I'd like to believe that I'm making these already world famous bands and their chart topping songs even more popular by taking them to the next level of fame and fortune. Getting them the love and support of all the many many of the five or so readers that this blog generates! So, that's the business angle of looking at it (because calling oneself a lunatic tends to self-flattery). Enough on that, I've generated two paragraphs of content for one random comment made by a fellow blogger who i