A Look Back

It’s been a week of blogging, my first week. Not a very successful week, I might say. I have largely come across as a wretched and bitter soul(less), who is trying too hard. Which is precisely what I am; but, I am not sure whether that’s necessarily the image I would want to portray. But I hope things will look up sometime sooner than later; I know it will.

I have too much to do now. But I don’t want to break this habit of posting. Even if I am not a good blogger, I atleast would want to be an enthusiastic one. So keeping in mind the new found time crunch along with the perennial shortage of ideas, I would rather check out a few comments.

Even here I am a bit short of material. The comments have not exactly poured in; trickle would be a better word. But I can’t help that. Actually keeping in mind that only a handful of people know that I am blogging, probably I can; but not presently. So let me keep it at that.

I got a couple of comments on my first ever post.
@Crystal: Yes! That is one of the occasions. But certainly not the only one! I think you stopped reading midway through the penultimate sentence. Chaibar calling?!
@ Anirban: Both for sure. Pucca! WWE, if not specifically The Undertaker. And the HIT scums for sure. But I would rather be talking of the cream, than the scum!

@ Crystal on “I, The Wise”: I am a serious person, and I fancy myself to be a literary person! So what else do you expect? And I know wise is not a bad word. She is not like you, always calling me names. :-P
And forgetting and forgiving are both out of the question. I was not offended. She hardly meant it so. At the most, it may have been a joke on her part. Anyway, it’s just that it made me think over a few things. So come to think of it, I am actually thankful!

I hate anon people. You should, you must have the balls to right some name (even then a certain degree of anonymity is provided, almost by default). You are wrong if you think you don’t have them. You must have tucked them in somewhere and forgotten about them. Find it and use it.
And anyway dear, shit does stink. Or can I have one more classification: aromatic shit!

Crystal again! Must be my first fan! Thanks a lot for being such a patient and sweet friend. Thanks for providing me with the only positive feedback, albeit with the slightest of references to my usual dark self (how can I help Crystal, try getting sunburnt in Cal for 22 years, you would know too!). And of course, thanks for agreeing. This is one of those things I seriously believe in.
@ r2k: :-) . God knows where you came from. Don’t think I know you.
For others: this is one crazy bastard. Keeps a blog, where he just roams around the net, looking for weirdo stuff. [http://r2000.blogspot.com/]

Anyway, that’s about it for today. An assignment to write and an exam to prepare for.
“Let it roll, all night long.”

PS: I refuse to respond to any verbal comments. Or any made over Gtalk or Orkut. That’s a rule for me.

I, The Wise

Somebody has just dropped a bombshell on me. Well...not exactly just. This happened a couple of days back, but Abhinav Bindra was too important to wait, at least in my opinion.
The point is, I have been called Wise!!! Or at least, that I look Wise. Now, I have been called a lot of things/names in life. My immensely creative family (esp. my sister) and friends have ensured that I have never been short of names. On top of that my actual, official name! It’s a mathematical improbability that somebody who is not a Bangali like me, (the race of all races, we always get everything right), will get both the spelling and the pronunciation of my name right: at least not the first time. So that serves to add a few names by default.
But coming back to the point: Wise? What on earth has the words wise and wisdom got to do with me? Or for that matter, with the way I look?
Now most would say that "Well, that hardly is the worst thing that you have ever been called or will be called” and I for once will not disagree with the statement. The point here is my comfort level. It’s a bit ridiculous, well not for people who know me, but I would rather be called those names, than being called wise. Firstly, I would be sure of how to react to these, cause I know whether they are compliments (well, they can be called complements too: 'harami' is a case in point, among friends it was more like 'clever you' than 'you bastard'; or maybe it was both, 'you clever bastard'!) or not. Secondly, these would either be coming from friends, so I am happy or I don't mind; or they are from people I am not fond of anyway, so I don't care.
But wise? It’s something I have not been called before, for sure. And neither have I been accused of looking wise either. For the majority of the population I look like some kid, slightly studious and largely lost in life, which makes one out of the two readings right. Was it a back-handed compliment? Unlikely. I back myself to see through those, at most times.
What is actually bothering me, are not the 'who?' and the 'how?' or even the 'was this person lying?' questions, but the 'what?' of whatever that was said. Fact is that I have been anything but wise in my life. I have had enough opportunities to learn from my mistakes, but I have generally shown a strong aversion towards learning from these past experiences (there was one thing this person surely got right, unintentionally it may be: "You look like a person with plenty of heavyweight experience"). And I do not see myself wisening up either. I don't know whether I would like to have it this way or not, but it’s the way it is presently and I don’t feel like helping myself out of it. I would love to remain like this, like Dorian Gray. Being haunted by my own self.
‘Wise’ will haunt me and taunt me for the days to come for sure. What would I give to be actually wise!

P.S.: Do not bother to ask the person’s identity. It is not very important for either of us. And yes, it was a female. Who else could come up with such gems?!

I.I.Me.

I...
Now I can write the rest of it... Long before today, when I am actually writing this blog, I had promised myself (not that they are two different beings, but that's the way the English language works I suppose) that 'I' would be the first word of any meaningful (?!) piece of prose (??!!) I write. Why I had made this particular promise I can't remember.
I am also not very sure about whether that this actually qualifies as something meaningful. Prose? Well, it’s not poetry for sure. And I was told in my corporate induction that everything grey is black. Though Grey finds this extremely offending and my Brown shoe polish (or is it Tan?) has gone into a sulk ever since it has come to Lucknow, I will venture and go ahead with this oversimplifying assumption: prose it is, prose it must be.
Those who know me well enough, which you should be if you have actually bothered to read this (not to mention the amount of time you have to waste), will not find anything surprising in either of the two. If you have lost your way already in my superbly crafted sentences and even better paragraph formations, let me help you get back on track: you shouldn't be surprised at the fact that I actually made such a promise to myself, nor the fact that I have forgotten why I made it.
However, in future I shall not be this patient, and show neither the time nor the inclination, to do all the backtracking for you. Imagine writing a book, and then coming up with a guide to it. What a killing to be made! Unfortunately, some of the cheapskate +2 engineering exam book writers have already hit upon this goldmine of an idea. So, it’s not something entirely original. But what else do you expect from somebody studying in a B-school?
Anyway this is all I feel like writing about presently. I hardly feel like going public with this. I think I would rather gift you all with this on the Independence Day- Rakhi weekend. I should have written a decent 5-6 post by then.