Black Hole Sun

Scene I : Curtain Falls

Man lying on a bed. He is in pain. Unimaginably cruel pain. He just had his chemotherapy session. It felt like his body was on fire. Painkillers only get you some relief. Pain, to a huge extent, is psychological. But not in cancer. Cancer is a vicious thing. It rips your body apart like nothing else, except HIV/AIDS. Pain in AIDS is due to other reasons, Cancer is the beginning and end to all your suffering. The man wonders how it all started. He vaguely remembers someone beseeching him to stop. Only, his drugged mind can’t recall what the damn person was talking about. The nurse enters and sticks him with a needle. He drifts off into a dreamless, but troubled, sleep.

Scene II : Time Before Intermission

Man sitting on a cot in a dingy dhaba. He is still contemplating his last call to his mom. His mom had warned him about getting into bad habits. He had got into one. Now he couldn’t get rid of it. He had tried, but the pressures of working as an assistant in a grocery store had taken its toll on him. He’d attempted to rid one by getting hooked onto something else, but it was just more baggage on his shoulders. It started to weigh him down. He wondered if it was actually bad. After all, other people do it all the time, and nothing’s happened to them. He assures himself that nothing will happen to him as God looks over him. That is what he has believed all his life…

Scene III : The Beginning

Man travelling by train. He gets into the first-class compartment. Blatantly ignores uppity people regarding rules of train travel. His job is going great guns and his decision to come to the City of Dreams has paid off, like it has for everyone else. So, cocksure and arrogant, man travels on the footboard of the train, delighted with the recent turn of events. He looks into the breast-pocket of his shirt. He takes out a thin white tube containing a tooth-paste like substance. He carefully squeezes it onto his palm. He takes out a paper packet containing some powder, takes a dollop onto the same palm containing the white substance. Expertly, with practised precision, he narrows his palm and rubs the heterogeneous mixture with the middle finger of his right hand. Another Perv Uncle besides me smirks, because perv things is all his tiny brain can think of. Even with all the rolling of the compartment, man balances carefully, and smacks and polishes his mixture. Then, making a ball of it, he places it between his lower teeth and lower lip. Then, with a pleased smile, he grins at all his co-passengers. Most people look disgusted, but man thinks the expression is pasted onto uppity people’s faces. Nothing can go wrong for him.

Scene IV : Time After Intermission

Doctor’s diagnosis is not good. Alcohol and tobacco have taken their toll. Man has red, bulging ulcers everywhere in his mouth. They look as if they can pop at any time. Man curses God and blames his bad luck. But the truth is, you take it. No one gives it to you.

P.S: I have tried experimenting with non-linear storytelling. Hope the story wasn’t obvious from the start. 🙂

P.P.S: Even more important than my blog is the fate of all those people who are addicted to pan masala, tobacco or any such other shit. If you have any relatives or family members who are into this, this is a warning for all of you.

Hair Raisers…

I know I haven’t written for a long, long time and I might be a bit rusty with my use of phrases and punctuations. Submissions have taken their toll on me, and my regular habit of procrastination has put me in knee-deep trouble. Knees would be too low, neck-deep trouble would be appropriate. Tempers have frayed, people always look frazzled and even the brightest minds have been dulled by MU submissions. Submissions cause you to scream out loud and say “I submit!” However, the longest standing traditions of Mumbai University is not what is going to be today’s point of discussion. Although it would make an interesting topic, people have criticized me for criticizing many things, which is very hypocritical. My dad refuses to believe I can write just because my ideas are too cynical. So for once, I will not analyze anything or anyone but myself.

The point of analysis is my hair. The only thing I hear about myself whenever I meet someone is how different I look with my current hairstyle. Which isn’t saying much because it isn’t a hairstyle at all. It’s more like an all-action growth by my hair in the 3 months’ time I have given it to grow in any direction it wants. However, it has chosen to remain Indian and grow upwards than downwards. Which is the reason why I can never sport John-Travolta-in-Pulp-Fiction style of hair. It just doesn’t grow the way I want it to. It curls at the ends!

It’s like a marvellous black bush, earning me comparisons with a certain Maraoune Fellaini of Everton fame. Marvellous would actually be a misnomer, tangled and vine-like would be spot-on. Now, many people have dared to ask me if I ever comb my hair. To this, I would like to scream and run about like a headless chicken. But in a saner and controlled voice, I would say I have tried. I have tried combing it with even wire brushes, but to no avail. As a common joke doing the rounds of my class goes, “If anyone wants a comb, try finding them in Shridhar’s hair. You’re sure to find one.” Which is quite true. Hence the need for me to wash my hair everyday. Not that I didn’t earlier, but nowadays, I need to get 5 minutes out of my regular routine to actually transform me from a chump with flattened hair to some kind of reasonable nerd.

Now, you might ask me, if Ididnt want to go to all this trouble, why did I need to grow my hair?

Fair enough, though my reasons for it aren’t. The story is a typical show of how stubborn I can be. I have had horrible hair like this for a pretty long time. To avoid maintaining it, I used to be eager to cut it off and get rid of it asap. People ribbed me a lot about me cutting it too soon. So as a sadistic punishment, I had decided to grow my hair. And the result is as you see nowadays. For the benefit of the people who have not seen me in this avatar, here is a photo. Enjoy!

Forget the expression, look at the jewellery!

Too Many Humans

We all know SPCE. I should rephrase this sentence to say, we all “think” we know SPCE. The fundamental thing to know about SPCE is that SPIT is connected to its original college physically as well as emotionally, akin to a mother’s bond with its child, the umbilical cord. Don’t get me wrong here. I am not being sappy, just getting my similes right. For SPCE Is as old as a mother to SPIT, infrastructure-ally as well as otherwise.

But the point I’m trying to make here is not about the bond between CE and IT. The point is about the knowledge you have about our humble college. Many students have tried and failed at an attempt to fathom the mystery behind the many secret rooms in SPCE. A rambling old building tends to have many rooms, and SP is no different. It’s divided into two wings, and each has a share of its secrets.

Many say a grand old treasure is hidden in the depths of the college, but brigands and pirates have not managed to get a whiff of it as yet. Enterprising detectives have tried their hand at peering into every classroom, and even initiated contests at the college festival, but have been unable to elicit a squeak from the guardians of the priceless and nameless entity.

Recently, there have been rumours going around about a monster residing somewhere in SP, and children fear to roam about in the college after dark. The monster is said to consume many pints of beer, remnants of which are rumoured to have been found on the SP terrace. In these days of doubt, the SP management locks up most of the college, in a bid to stay the monster and abate some of its anger.

Here are some of the rooms that have a certain mysterious air about them, and are in definite need of investigation:

1. Toilet on the 2nd Floor, close to the FE IT class

Located on the highest floor SP can offer, this is more popular amongst the IT people. Being a very mysterious and introverted lot themselves, they hardly let anyone know about this toilet. The toilet is as much a part of SPIT as it is of SPCE. Hardly anyone in SPCE knows of this place. It is remarkably small, has no mirror, and is virtually non-existent, referring to its size. It would hardly be called as an “ideal” toilet. As a TE remarked wisely, you wouldn’t know about it even after 3 years in the college.

2. The Gymkhana

Invisible to the naked eye, except to people who are in definite need of some shrink, this place has been widely documented and well ridiculed by some of my seniors. It is a deliberate insult to a gym, and a big insult to any sport. It is located at the end of a small, yet arterial road, just off the road leading to the workshop. The Gymkhana is well-stocked with all the necessary equipment required to ensure the health and well-being of the SP crowd. However, you need to pick a perfect time to enjoy its services, because it is highly popular with the aam junta, to whom this place is better known than their own classes.

3. Some classroom on the 2nd, which has no desks at all

This is one place you will never notice at all. It is almost always closed. Sometimes, it is inhabited by the lonelier kinds of the human race, merely to have somewhere to vent their frustrations. The room appears to have no use at all, except during some times when some teacher seems to be sitting in a chair with all her students around her. I have never been able to solve the mystery behind this behaviour. Will try to learn more about the goings-on of this room. Keep your eye out for it.

4. The dumping area on ground level

It is a highly claustrophobic area, with not much room for manoeuvring. Is a dumping ground for strange things. Strange sounds have been heard from its nooks and crannies when we have entered for retrieving our football. We’ve discovered every piece of furniture to have existed at SP at any point in its life, to be enjoying a nice rest there. Not many people know about this place, but you will find it when you miskick your football, to enter a realm of decadence and ageing.

5. The Wind Tower Room

I never really bothered to read the name for this room. It is a room you will see everyday, yet manage to ignore. It is well camouflaged. The only thing you will notice about it is all the water lying about the place. As a certain friend cleverly noted, it might be a medieval torture room of sorts, where the tortured souls are forced to urinate on themselves. Of course, the “clever” is in doubt. The room itself is a paradox, with no possibility of wind, due to lack of windows.

P.S: For the link to a brilliant video, this is where you can find it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfUS6mONpZ8