INSPIRATION

We didn't change: Prabhat

2011-09-20T22:15:00.003+05:30

Funny thing.

A lot of my friends and me included, always concluded thatmy batch-mates would change when they grew up. We came to such conclusionswhenever we observed any kind of eccentric behaviour, action, gesture, habit,and judgemental that we are and always have been, we quickly took temporarysolace in the fact that it would all be better someday. We used to worry abouttheir future years. If they would be too naughty we would enact future scenesof them always standing outside classes and getting beaten all the time. If theywere too easy, them being easy pushovers. If too simple, we used to wonder allthe fun they would miss during their college years.

Some of my friends proved me wrong, and I stand correctedtoday.

Prabhat is the first who comes to my mind. A simple, intelligent, hard-working,non-swearing, non violent, jolly fellow. Bespectacled, studious and honest washow he could be described in the simplest of words. Someone who when provokedcame up with “Pashu” as the mostdirty slang. I thought his years in IIT would have polluted him, made him “cool”,someone who would swear at the drop of the hat, someone who would throw upoften because of too much alcohol. But, he is still the same guy. I mean a Hindiexpletive here and there is not considered disgusting for a college goingstudent. I am sure the Japanese people he is sharing his time with now, knowmore about Hindu philosophy and Moksha then we do, just because Prabhat mighthave passed on his immense knowledge on the particular subject, which he was prettyfond of in Vidyapith, to his research colleagues. I respect all of this andmuch more. It is so easy to lose track, to have a wrong sense ofadventure. Being same, and good, can becool as well.

This observation of mine is a process. I wish to write abouteach and everyone of my batch-mates. Justgive me reasons aplenty.

I don't know.

2011-02-20T15:18:00.002+05:30

It hardly comes to me a surprise that I had discontinued blogging. My ambition of writing once a month was not difficult by any stretch of imagination. People who set out to blog everyday are also doing better than me. But I knew that this would come sooner or later, that I would not be able to post as frequently. The stories got over, the enthusiasm calmed down, the josh gone thanda.

And it’s not like some great semi reunion happened over beer yesterday or Swamiji himself came into my dreams and suggested “My child the purpose of your life is to preach others the good time that you had in RKMV; to impress upon others to devote one’s young mind to devotion and spirituality while having a heck of a time in Vidyapith.” I write this today because I miss Vidyapith very much. Much more today for reasons I don’t know.

Maybe because I haven’t picked up a bat or scored a 40 feet goal (oh yeah, I scored like hundreds of them, mostly in the A-team) for quite some time, that makes me realize how much time we spent playing in Vidyapith and how many fun memories we have of that time. Maybe it is because mangoes or guava never tasted as good as they did back in Vidyapith. Whether it was stolen from the Aam-bagan or whether they were distributed in the dining hall, those fruits were the best I ever had. And more so when by some divine coincidence we managed to get a second one. Or maybe I feel so because breaking rules were an everyday affair for which I don’t need to explain the pride it brought to our chests.

Time has made us more human-like. More mature, more sensible, more correct. But I wish to question the wisdom that is achieved at the cost of fun, laughter and happiness?

I, personally, speaking would trade my life for my Vidyapith days at the blink of an eye. And it’s not like I am not doing ok. I have a good job, good name and things have turned out pretty okay. But I crave the madness we had back then. It is normal, I presume that we all want our school life handed back to us, or we wish that we could have another crack at it. But today I wonder why this sudden urge to wind back 15 years? I don’t have any answer. Maybe it’s just isn’t fun anymore to grow up. Maybe learning about life and its lessons back in Vidyapith was more fun than living life itself.

I don’t know and maybe I will never know.

It still echoes in our ears:

2011-01-27T16:26:00.003+05:30

The most famous and well-versed lyrics, we came across.

Khandana Bhava Bandhana.

Have a listen whenever you want to go back to it.

Re-union in 2045.

2010-10-27T22:37:00.000+05:30

Things that will come up during “Re-union of the RKMV batch of 2002” in 2045:

Sune hai Murmu ne Raj yog teesri baar complete kar liya?
Ankit ka panchwa beta hua hai. Naam phool-kumar hai. Bade wala ka naam chhota genda hai.
Shajib hindi bolna abhi bhi nahi seekh paya.. . Shajib interrupts, ”Hum sun liye hai. Sobka Gordon tud denge”.
Abhishek’s mind functions semi-normally now. He was heard saying, “This wonderful evening got it to me very late”.
Nishant was seen pursuing the hot girl in the party and then got sentimental when someone mentioned that she was her “to be bhabhi”. He instantaneously developed a grudge against the whole batch.
“Arre yaar, I am sure it was Tamal. How can anybody of us ever forget his face? So sad that we have not heard from him since we left Vidyapith.”
“Pritam Pal is a girl. Surely.”
Anupam finally made it to the Muzaffarpur Under 55 cricket team. And Abhipreet to the Best team.
The innocent people have released a Fatwa against Atul’s head. Atul still makes them cry in public.
SG ran out of soyabeans to eat at the “World Soyabean Convention.”
Arijit finally had an eye-to-eye argument with his wife.
Pranav is the Director of the World Council of Scince. Guess what is the punch line of the WCS now, “Science Science and still more Science.”
Debayanism is the only religion followed everywhere. RKMV ka bhi naam badalne wala hai.
”Angry young man Snehil english bol leta hai. Ha ha.”
”Rohit da ka grandson politics join karne wala hai.”
”Vibhor abhi bhi cheap cheap blogs likhta hai jo koi nahi padhne wala. J”

You have to comment and add on here.

This is how it went down that night

2010-09-08T22:37:00.003+05:30

This one is as demanded. Excuse the delay in getting this one done, and all the gayism that you will encounter along the read.

Translated in English, for your convenience only.

-----------------xxx----------------------------

Amartya: But I love you dude.

Sankha: Dude, will you relax. For crying out loud.

Amartya: but why? I love you, in all its purity. If love is a crime, I am a prisoner for life.

Sankha: I love you too. But screaming about it in the middle of the night and explaining that to the rest of vidyapith is not going to be easy.

Amartya: I believe they will understand. It’s not as if everyone is straight over here. There is plenty of boy-on-boy action around here. Almost all the bathroom walls, warden rooms and maharaj cabins bear testimony to that fact.

Sankha: dude, you don’t get it. I am sure people do it, but should we come out in the open alone. Let the others in this closet get branded before I expose myself (literally).

Amartya: dude its ok. I have been feeling a few others too. They say that all of us will form one sweet group and call ourselves, “The special ones”.

Sankha: Waise can some of our teachers be a part of it too. Our warden wanted me to confirm before he is in. I would love him to wake us up with him blaring, “Mukhe chokhe jol de” from his beautiful tender lips.

Amartya: I have never been this hot for you ever.

Everyone is awake, stunned. Our minds were not processing useful information. We were looking each other, unable to understand what just happened. Puzzled and perplexed, murmuring, someone could guess what just happened and blurt out what was so clearly hanging in the air. “Abbe yeh dono gay hai be”.

This is what really transpired that night. Don’t ask me. I have my sources

Future Part 1

2010-07-14T14:28:00.003+05:30

This one is purely speculative. It occurred to me when I was having my shower yesterday (not that I think of guys while having my shower, but because I found it hilarious), and realized that trying to pen a scene of the future involving my brothers can be a lot of fun. Again, it’s only speculative:

Debayan: Why have you come to me today, son? What have you done?

Prabhat: Forgive me God for I have sinned?

Debayan: What have you done my child?

Prabhat: I called my friend “Pashu” today?

Debayan: (Thinking what a loser this guy is) Its ok my child. I presume you did not do it intentionally. But tell me, what made you do it?

Prabhat: Atul aka chhota kamina

Enters Atul. Wearing a black pathan suit, surrounded by 6 beefed bodyguards, this kingpin of crime has menace and anger in his eyes. But he has managed to remain god fearing and so, controls himself from piercing his dagger across Prabhat’s chest.

Debayan: My other son, why did you disturb this pure creation of mine, Prabhat?

Atul: Isko bolo apni m…… na c………….. Saala humse aake puchta hai ki Niranjan maharaj jo hamesha bolte the ki ”This can only be explained if you know Quantum Mechanics”, woh tumko aa gaya ki nahi? Hum kya encyclopedia hai kya? Chu…… saala.

Debayan : (Trying hard to suppress his laughter) So Prabhat, what made you think that Atul had the answer to this question?

Prabhat: Atul does. Everyone knows that Atul has all the answers? Abhipreet and Pranav can vouch for it?

Debayan: Pranav, how did you conclude that?

Pranav: Science, science and still more science.

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

Guys, you know I love you.

I shall be writing some more of such “scenes” that pop into the invariably empty head of mine and expect you to think on similar lines and comment/blog. Till then, keep imagining.

Saala, kutta ki tarah rakhta tha…

2010-06-16T11:24:00.001+05:30

The heading gives it away. I talk today about the treachery, shame, embarrassment associated with the way we have spent some of the trying-to-forget-but-cant moments from Vidyapith. Goes without saying, that it’s all humorous, to not to be taken seriously.

First of all the accommodation: I won’t say it was bad, rather for the money we were paying for it, it was great; but how can you stay in a dormitory with 50 other people without any fans. Cross-ventilation is a lame excuse. Big windows count for nothing when you have just come back from spending 4 hours in the relentless sun. Lucky that we were who joined in class 6, we did not have to face a big problem. I wonder how my senior brothers and those in my batch who joined in class 4 and 5 manage without a fan above them. Brave souls

A man can survive in a cell of 6x6, but a clean toilet should be added as the Fundamental Right for every human being. The loos of vidyapith was something we can never be proud of. Tunuram was one man army against all the shit dirt that awaited him every morning after we left for school. Poor guy.

The bathing and washing place was a bittersweet kind of a contradiction. During summer time it was the place to be to cool off, play “who dares last longest” during water fights kind of a place. We played Domes when it was not being used for ablution purposes. But during winters and autumn and rains it was nothing short of Alaska. How can someone have a bath in the open, in cold, with wind blowing? My bones and unmentionables would freeze up. People like Kebaran, Sushant, Abhipreet etc etc etc would hibernate, vowing not to come out of their sweaters till spring.

Second is the food: although I have talked about it during a previous post labeled “Khana”, I need to mention it here, because this is where also it fits perfectly into the context of the issue. And perfectly in sync is someone’s (I guess SG) comment that “Yeh khana to kutta bhi soongh ke chhod dega”. You people remember the cake that used to be served during evening snacks? Give it some kid today on his birthday and he will never celebrate his birthday again. You remember when someone (I guess Haldar) mentioned it to Balaram Da, that there was rusted nail in his food; he very casually replied that “yeh sab to girta rehta hai”? OMFG! How is that casual for anyone? Funny but serious.

And this led to us keeping our stocks when we came back from vacations or whenever our guardians used to visit us. That too was a cardinal sin. Like staring at a Muslim girl in the streets of Afghanistan. The chopping of ligaments, is the only exception. I mean, how can you bash up a small kid for having a packet of local mixture, or a box of sweets, or some home made marmalade (happened with me) that he doest want to share and enjoy it only himself. Beats me.

I trust that all of us have felt the same once almost everyday. You may share, inhibited.

You are fondly remembered, sorely missed....

2010-05-18T22:26:00.011+05:30

I was browsing through my Vidyapith album, and it dawned to me that this post was long long overdue.....

No flowery prose, no big words.

Just that you are the best of the best. Love you guys. RIP.

Destined to be Together.

2010-05-14T11:31:00.001+05:30

You might see coincidence, I see providence. God didn’t make a mistake by ‘holing’ all of us together. “The criminials from various corners of the country”, as Uttam Da used to so lovingly call us, did not collect by chance. We all were part of the master plan. Handpicked and delivered to the batch of 2002 (10^th).

If you disagree, I don’t actually give a ****. But the gentleman I am, I will try to reason and persuade you to think otherwise. Following is a list of imperative raison d'être’s from my 72 page document titled “How were we destined to be together”. The complete hand-book is available at selected outlets all across the world. Price on request.

Yes, the reasons:

First and foremost, the demographic. Biharis and Bengalis formed the majority of student. These two sets of people seldom get on well with each other. But not here. We all got along like a house on fire. God chose us so that we would set an example of brotherhood and tolerance for the rest of the world. Valid point.
We were chosen because god knew that the legacy of Thakur Vivek (above picture, sitting, in black, 2nd from right) had to be carried far and wide. Breathing the same air, drinking the same water, cursing the same people, the undercurrent is far too obvious to overlook. We alone know of his heroics and tales of bravery and chivalry. I already have a whole list of stories to tell to my grandchildren.
It was wired into us that whenever we met after we separated and went our ways in 10^th and 12^th, there would be no formalities and apprehension which always comes when people meet after long time. Case in point: Pallav was meeting Dwi bhai after a long time in Pune. They decided that Pune railways station was a convenient location since Pallav was coming to the city by train. Dwi bhai got late and Pallav had to wait for some time before Dwi turned up. Even before a word of greeting, curse words and the punishment of kneeling and saying sorry on the railway platform was demanded of Dwi bhai and it was gladly carried out. NB: Pallav is the source of the story. No party can blame for inaccuracies.
These days there is a lot of hue and cry of Vidyapith reunions and lot of arrangements are being made to meet up, not in India alone but in places like London, Paris, Timbuktu etc. I speak for myself when I say that this is not my idea of the reunion. My idea is to meet in RKMV, Deoghar. No other place is a close second and most of you know why. I wish my batchmates concur with me on this one and one day I am sure more than half of us would turn up to those hallowed grounds during the Praktani meet. Maybe till then Ganguly would have woken up (Reference to Ashok Da’s joke of waking up Ganguly and sarcastically commenting that in case he keeps on dozing, next time he opens his eyes, everyone else would have come to Vidyapith for the Praktani reunion. Ha ha)

There are many other reasons why I believe we were and still are together. Most of them miss me, and in due course I would elaborate on them. But today, I miss my batch mates a lot and I hope I can get wind back time again and live those days over and over again.

The Queer Rasputin

2010-04-25T00:03:00.004+05:30

It took me a few moments only to decide whether if I needed a disclaimer for this post. Only few moments. He isn’t worth one. Today I foray into taking pot-shots at those reserved men who we loved to loathe. This in turn opens up a whole new list for me and I expect my fellow bloggers to join me in this charade.

I don’t want to name him, but there was and will be only one Doma. He was so popular by this name that I cannot recall his proper name. Black poppy man brings back a slight smile and a very dark visual of a hunter of young, innocent, smooth skinned boys. No disrespect to the dark ones he fondled. We all would judge the ones who were “exploited”, but let us take a moment and step in their shoes and imagine how it was back then. Factors that need to be considered, which were stacked against them were:

He was the damned warden. You rebel against him and you had to be always on your toes, always alert. One mistake is all it would take from you to get thrashed black and blue.
The sheer size of him was intimidating enough. How does a school kid stand up against a giant?
And then there is most important factor of all. Anyone finds out and you are the butt of all jokes. Even Amarto would look with you with disgust in his eyes.

I feel that the sole reason of appealing happiness would be to get toffees, fruits, or some random snacks that you would get before he “enjoyed” you. Not even a blonde is dumb enough to see which side the balance is heavier. I feel for you guys yaar. You must have had it tough.

I don’t think he was always like that. Initially I respect him to the point that I once considered him one of the best of the lot. But I guess the post of Bhandar-manager changed him. Corrupted him. He had the greatest thing to bargain with. Sweets, biscuits, fruits etc, something to which any Vidyapith considered nothing less than food-for-gods back in those days. You can now imagine how it works for him. He would ask his favourites to stay back, sweet-talk them, ask him to meet him in his quarters and then make his move.

I would be asking for a lot if I ask those who were exploited by this beast to come forward and for the record, tell us what happened in that Ram Dham warden room. But all those who have seen or heard and have genuine stories are requested to share it here. Remember, there is some young boy going to bed with a full stomach, but pain in his vitals and shame in his heart. We need to end it.

Supara, ha ha, I was looking for this a.k.a for Doma.

And doma if ever you read this, not that you would understand any of this English, this was the post I enjoyed the most writing. Happy molesting.

The Vidyapith Play-time

2010-04-10T11:53:00.002+05:30

I could not come up with a fancy start on this topic, so for simple effects and saving myself the excruciation pain of coming up with something great, I want to number my thoughts on the above mentioned topic

I do not recall any other hour of my days that I would wait for so badly in my daily schedule than the play time. We all did.
When it was the cricket season, especially when we were Cands, the first two selections everyone did was Ranjan on one side and Ankit on the other. Hell would break loose for the opposition if they were in the same team.
People would line up and salivate for batting when Anupam would be bowling and turn down batting promotions with disdain when SG had the cherry in his hands. We would be shitting bricks, watching him come up from his run-up to hurl the ball mostly towards our vital parts.
We all loved when we played with the tennis ball. We all hoicked away to an evening of glory and respect amongst the playing community
We were pretty confident that the playing 11 could at least defeat the Kenya cricket team, if we squared off. Inappropriate, but possible. I still think we could.
On Wednesdays and Sundays we would decide to play test cricket, play a full match only to find out that it took us only an hour. Kenya would still lose to us.
The Anshuman-reaching the fence-before the cricket ball and his other catching antics are perhaps the funniest moments I have come across in my entire sports life.
Hare ram’s batting twice incident almost divided the class in two.
During our cands everyday routine, the evening play time was the high light of the day. It would bring all of us together, without which it would be impossible for anyone to locate anyone particular.
Football was a different ball game, literally and in every which way.
Shajib, Rabi, Pranav etc would dribble and run with the ball and we could not catch up with them even if our life depended on it.
Kunjan would describe shots as unbelievable, in his special style.
Abhipreet and JC would be used as goal posts in case there were not enough verticals.
Watching our seniors play in the A team we would always wonder if we could ever hit the ball that far.
A niranjan maharaj shot, when received without prior notice would should you stars, planets, birds and many other characters in broad daylight.
Ali da would literally run after 400 boys to end it and return back the football, cricket equipment to the store.
We never did the above in time and we were always late for the prayer hall.
Football in the monsoons was mislabeled. It was only 10 minutess of footie, which soon turned into rugby or plain throwing everyone to the ground and splashing mud on the face. Overflowing drains were other excellent destinations of shoving those into water who would otherwise not have bath for weeks together.

What else can be more fun for kids than playing for kids? I used to shout my lungs out because whenever I used to talk in the class the teachers used to say “baat karna hai to field main jaake karo”. J

The Vidyapith Holi

2010-02-28T16:34:00.002+05:30

Holi is vidypith was an occasion we would look forward to very much. It was an occasion of joy, love, colours, tradition and overall fun. Ah, screw this. I can’t write like this. My writing without sarcasm and wit is as useless as ravindra jadeja in the current Indian batting order. And all you R Jadeja fans, go suck it.

Anyways, back to where I was. Holi in vidyapith legen..dary. It was about getting bashed up, getting everyone as ugly as you could possibly imagine and then having as much wild fun as we could plan. It seldom disappointed. From the starting of the “no using colour in the dhan” notices put up like a week ago, to the using a lot of colours in the dham, it followed a dictated consistency which I am sure my younger brothers still carry out with that much élan and pride as we did in the days back then.

It used to start with the traditionalistic, applying colours to maharajs and teachers, which was reciprocated with warmth and would lead to everyone converging in football fields and dancing to obscene Hindi songs. The Shakti maharaj terror used to make sure that we always followed the rule of “Moharaj, ammi to pranam kore felechi”, rule to the book and then continue with our madness till 12 pm sharp. Gulal and other organic and inorganic colours were used to make sure that we looked like a red-faced baboon for at least 2 weeks past the holi day. I remember that a batch mate of mine, has declared (imagine his stupidity) that that particular years he would not partake in the holi celebrations. Dumb that he was, he could not go and hide to avoid provoking the rampant crowd. His shirt and shorts we torn to bits and he of all people was declared as the most unrecognisable after the 4 hours of holi celebration. But he admitted of having the best holi ever.

I remember that we used to assemble in the gymnasium to chant prayers in the evening time. It used to be a fun affair, or that is what I have felt. We dispersed with sweets, one-by-one only to come back in the later evening to attend the ritual cultural event. That too used to be awaited with a lot of excitement because that when I guess class 7 used to present the cultural event. Our batch made history by dishing out the worst cultural event ever. References: Atul and Hare ram wala cultural program “ Accha to hum chalte hai, phir milenge”. Shit.

But the real events always used to follow this cultural event. It used to be this small singing performance by the dining hall workers that used to get everyones blood running. “thakur koti main pehle chale”, if I put it correctly is as unanimously loved by everyone in vidyapith as uttam da shouting “tumhara baba lal bag neeye daariye thakbo” or “dhab dhab kore pecchab korbe”. The energy and utter rawness of the whole performance was mind blowing. It was like the whole days magic would culminate into that 15 minute performance and would leave us wanting for more, which we all knew would occur at the next Holi only.

This holi I am planning to play it safe with organic colours and all that is if I play at all. But heck, what’s the fun in that. The best holis are already over.

The Prayer Hall fiasco

2010-02-01T16:27:00.006+05:30

At the very outset I am announcing the fact that I am not in no whichever way denouncing the prayer hall. It was the single best architectural-powerful-beautiful identity to the Vidyapith landscape. I am just describing some my observations we found amusing.

We used to dress up every 12 hours in our famed Dhoti-kurta attire and go to the prayer hall, everyday all round the year. On certain special days we would spend full days there and hence was more than just an integral part of out vidyapith life and routine.

I can never twig the whole prayer hall-students chanting-idol worship thing in just one post. This is why I have decided to enlist the whole thing chronologically.

Junior years: this timeframe would be when we just started our hostel life in vidyapith. We would be found either in Premananda, Matri, Subodhanand or Vijyananda dham. We would line up dressed in clean sparkling white dhoti-kurtas and then head to the shrine in neat files, on time and eager to get a good seat. There would be a rush to sit as close as possible to the place of worship. Closer to god was followed physically and metaphorically, I guess. There used to be a prayer hall ministers, appointed by the Dham warden whose duty was basically to make sure the whole process of getting there was smooth and everyone sang their songs. Religion was kind of thrust upon us, which is a personal belief.

Intermediate years: this was the time when we were in class 7^th and 8^th. We all were on the verge of seniority and believed that it was only time that we would be the real seniors and Vidyapith would bow to our commands soon enough. It was basically getting there on time and deliberately not singing the songs. Anyone who was actually praying was basically sucking up to the gods and was totally uncool. When the exams were close this would be replaced by everyone straining their vocal cords, making sure the gods heard them all right. On normal days, it was a battle to stay awake and stay out of the wrath of Shakti maharaj and the prayer hall captains who considered themselves nothing less than guardians of God himself.

Senior years: this was obviously when we guys were in class 9^th and 10^th. Half of the class would be sleeping, hiding somewhere or the else but not in the prayer hall. That is what was cool that time. Your time-off prayer hall decided how up you were in the ladder of “pakami and dushtami”. The prison rule was followed. We would enter the last and leave the earliest from the prayer hall. Prayer hall captains would be our batchmates and hence were not a problem. Although the maharajs sitting right behind us were like vipers, ready to strike on any moment of weakness (read: sleepy and talking).

This was basically how it was, time wise. The funny issues now follow:

Never understood why sitting with the pillar support was so cool. Everyone wanted a piece of the pillar.
The punishment of making all the sleepy heads to stand was something that almost everyone would have gone through at least once. I am not sure about Prabhat though.
Vineet Monal almost tripped when he was made to stand when caught sleeping, because he started dozing off while standing. Is part of the all time funny incidents in vidyapith.
Wonder how time was never enough when we grew up to change and get to the prayer hall before that dammed third bell rang. Always late.
Imagining why would my batch-mates never change into shorts before wearing the dhoti and put it over the trousers itself. Must have been uncomfortable. Thinking about it hard, we were so busy (sarcastically) during our Cands time that it would we wasting precious minutes changing into shorts.
Wonder what it was in the prayer hall atmosphere that made us so sleepy? And the sleeping was so contagious.

On special days like Saraswati puja and Janamashtmi the atmosphere would be something else, the pain of stiff joints due to continuous sitting in the prayer hall, intense. Would write about that later.

PS: Nishant, Abhishek (pagla) and Mani have all been placed with great jobs. So if you haven’t wished them already, do so without fail. Will mean a lot to them.

If we followed our talent:

2010-01-22T11:30:00.002+05:30

We are always left with our first impressions. Based on the impressions I had and how well I could ‘judge’ my fellow batchmates, I always wanted to compile this list of “What profession or field of expertise my friends should have entered to excel”.

Pranav: Science, science and still more science.
Prabhat: Spirituality and states of monkhood
Dwivedi Bhai: Bhaigiri, duh
Amarto: Singing and flattering at the same time.
Shubh: (censored content)
Shajib: Acting in funny hindi movies. His hindi alone would be hilarious. Waise bhi Hrithik ke baad iska hi number aata.
Ankit: Gunda Kamina, the all India kingpin. Dwi bhai would be his daaya-haath.
Debayan: God himself
Ganguly: Centre-back in the country’s soccer team
Neel: Brigadier, with sincere regards
Mani: Porn king of the East
Vivek: King of Nepal. You all agree on this one.
Dadi: teacher for students harassed homosexually
Kebaran: Commandar-in-chief for the new Manipur state
Parivesh: writer of course.
Hare Ram: Expert on modern day style and fashion.
Anupam: the Indian cricket team coach. The worst ever.
Rohit da: Bhrasht neta
Sankarsan: SRK2
Tuhin and Debanuj: they would establish a firm and take up jobs to ridicule and irritate others. Atul would be their biggest competitor and would win hands down and in-turn humiliate them.
Abhiket: Public speaking. Ha ha ha

If you are not on this list, you weren’t just good enough at what you did back then.

Blog in itself.....

2009-12-29T16:04:00.002+05:30

Did not have much material or a great thought today....
But why do I need one, when the name itself is a joke.
69 jokes, for your pleasure.(notice the use of 69 and pleasure in the same sentence and laugh..... this is an additional/bonus joke)

Abhiket Gaurav
Abhimanyu Ganguly
Abhipreet Das
Abhishek Kumar
Abhishek Vatsa
Amartyajit Mukherjee
Amit Bhardwaj
Amulya Ratan
Anandeshwar Dwivedi
Aninda Ghosh
Ankit Kumar
Anshuman Prakash
Anupam Prakash
Arijit Majumdar
Arindom Hazarika
Ashok Kumar Sarkar
Atul Kumar
Bikrom
Chandan Kumar
Chitresh Bhushan
Debanuj De
Debayan Chatterjee
Debroop Mukherjee
Devtanu Dasgupta
Frantish Thokchom
Hare Ram
Kebran Okram
Koustoov Dutta
Kumar Keshav
Kumar Ravi Shankar
Kumar Vivek
Kunjan Kumar
L. Devabrata Singh
Mani Bhushan
Mrinal
Nishant Swapan
Pallav Gopal Jha
Parag Saurabh
Parivesh Priye
Parmendra Murmu
Piyush Gautam
Prabhat Shankar
Pranav Prakash
Pranshu Prakash
Prashant Kumar
Pritam Pal Singh
Rabichandra Khuman
Ritesh Kumar
Ritesh Ranjan
Rohit Kumar
Samudra Singh Konwar
Sankarsan Basu
Saurabh Neel
Shajib Ghosh
Shubh Darpan
Siddhartha Haldar
Snehil Gautam
Soibam Bonee
Soumya Palit
Souvik De
Subidit Nandy
Suman Saurabh
Sushant
Sushant Gaurav
Sutanu Sankha Ghosh
Tamal Dutta
Th. David Singh
Tuhin Ray
Vibhor Sahay

Thanks Abhipreet. ;)

What is it?

2009-12-23T15:38:00.002+05:30

It makes me wonder at times. Why is it that whenever, wherever and however long has it been, when two of us (vidyapithians, I mean) meet, we share a comfort and have a good time? Why is it, that whenever we spend time together, we quote it as the “best of times” and post pictures on orkut/facebook under the album named “the best get-together” or some like that? Yeah, we are from the same school and we people have a history and its associated stories to talk about. Yes, we were together for 5-9 years together and of course we can incessantly kato bakchodi anytime, anywhere. But I believe that there are issues that we all notice and talk about and today I believe I should blog them as well.

And in case I miss some, you should add them as comments. More over, people have become “less-generous” with their comments as well. Point to be noted and taken care of.

1. We from vidyapith, shall always look down upon/ridicule/consider leva (leva is vidyapith lingo for stupid-oversmart-dumb-downright dumb), others. That alone is enough to make us feel that we are a breed apart.

2. Other people are really leva. That goes hand in hand with point number 1.

3. Others think that they are not leva, but we all know they are, and this makes point number 1 and 2 all the more consistent.

4. We would never come back from a trip and ask others for Rs 4 and 7, “kyoki auto main maine paise diye the”. We are above this and I guess, all of us have been a part of a story like this and remembered the good’ol vidyapith days.

5. Because when people judge us in the first five minutes of meeting us, they think either two things – this guy is easy or this guy is a real fuck-up. We are neither and we took 3 minutes to size you up in and out, a’hole.

6. Because we can go anywhere with our pockets empty, and have the “best trip”, the “best food” and still have the guts to do it all over again. Case in point: the Mathura-Agra –Meeting Shakti maharaj trip.

7. Because we have come across all that a boarding school can offer- the best education, the worst punishments, the unimaginable pranks and if we could come out laughing from all that, the world is a cake-walk.

8. Because when we meet, we don’t say hi/hello/kaisa ho? It starts with you-know-what and it always ends with that as well.

9. Because when we don’t or cant meet or call up we don’t fret or feel sad about it unlike others who get “senti”.

10. And because all those who are reading it, would be thinking of me as a pompous pig, but only we know that it is true and it shall always remain this.

I am sure I have missed out many such “becauses”. Add them us. I would love to incorporate them in my next blog.

Bolo Guru Maharaj ji ki jaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

The Mumbai Booze fest

2009-10-15T09:29:00.006+05:30

Something very funny happened when we met in Mumbai on 11th.

Have lots to tell.. will come up shortly.

Finally its here.

And so we decided to meet on 11^th of this month. We all had stories to tell and news to discuss. I personally was very eagerly waiting to meet Abhipreet, Snehil, Dwivedi Bhai, Shubh and His holiness from the north of India, Sushant. Often I have made the mistake of fixing up a meet in the morning hours because I had prior commitments during the evening.

I called up Abhipreet at about 8 in the morning. I asked him to wake up others and come outside the “never-does-one-return-back” gates of IIT Mumbai. Abhipreet said that we should meet up first and then we could call up everyone else and ask them to come to where we were. So after like an hour of meeting Abhipreet, we started calling up Snehil, Bhai and our darling Shubh. But we all know how its done and that the only way to wake them up is pouring some water on their sorry faces.

We went to IIT. I was sure that the time when I would have to return back, I would still be here only. First, we went to wake up Shubh. Knocked on his door, banged it and issued vulgar notices if he would not open the gate immediately. She opened. I could not believe my eyes. She was there, in all her beauty and in nothing but a towel. I decide that all else can be taken care of later and sat down next to Shubh for the usual molestation and groping. After some hanky-panky, it was time to wake the others up. Sushant was the first one to jump up from his slumber when drops of water were sloshed on his. He was followed by Dwi bhai and eventually Snehil. The moment was “Crajee”, as Sushant had put in his own twisted English and special Bihari-delhi tone. This word was eventually declared as the word of the day. Everything was Crajee from now on. We laughed and giggled for some time since the word dawned upon us. Then, the trio got up and dressed up after borrowing freshly laundered shirts and pants from a neighbour.

Miracles happen. Us leaving the IIT for finding some place for food and civilization outside the gates is one of them. We eventually settled in a bar come restaurant zyada kinda place.

Ah, I almost forgot. Before me and abhipreet went back to IIT in the morning to wake everyone, Abhipreet had alarmed me about the latest masala that Sushant was preaching. Goes without mention, that they were treated as Pheks. First one was that one of his batchmates, some dude had patoed a sister of a certain batchmate of ours from Vidyapith. That too in a plane, travelling from India to the US. Imagine. I should not mention who he is because it is anyways a phek and moreover Sushant told it. And the other phek was related to Vivek. At the moment, I cannot recollect what it was. Imagine how preposterous it was that I don’t even remember it. The beauty of both these “facts” lies in the fact that both of them are not in much contact with rest of the Vidyapith junta and they cannot be called to ascertain the originality.

Yeah, so we finally started with our beer and starters on the table. A person across the 4 lane road from the glass walled and fully enclosed restaurant could hear us. The pub manager was giving us mean looks which were reciprocated with the same warmth and slangs of our own. Poor guy. He now pumped up his music volume so that our voices might get drowned in it and the people on the other table could enjoy a galli-free time. But you know what happens when we meet.

Human relations specially the ones related to the mother and sisters were abused and tattered. The routine was the tried and tested one. Bitching, cursing, laughing, drinking, more bitching, throwing food and ketchup and then the breaking of the glass when one became extra clumsy on the table. The culprit this time was Sushant. And for your info, a large portion of the bitching slice was courtesy (read directed to) Mani Bhushan. Don’t ask me why, Abhipreet has all the storiesJ.

Shubh joined us at about 1 in the afternoon. He was greeted with a lot of love and lust, if you know what I mean. His head turning and eagerly awaited laugh was on display for a couple of times.

The best joke that came out was when, someone mentioned that he always wished to wanted to ride in lal batti wali gadi (if they could come over to agartala and go around the place). To this Dwi bhai quirkily replied, “Ismain kaunsa bada baat hai. Sushant se saath 2 ghanta ghoom lo kahin bhi, police wala aa jayega”.

I don’t know how much beer we all had that day but it was mind numbing. It was a dry day after 5 pm. We were still left with a pitcher. The jackass manager packed the rest of the unconsumed beer in two kinley plastic bottles.

This wasn’t done. We then went to a nearby CCD and savored a full chocolate cake. The combination of enormous amounts of beer and chocolate in a empty stomach was something I had experienced after a very long time and I had never had so much fun doing that. We capped off, by calling and cursing Ankit to no end since he had changed his number and had not informed any one of us and it took us like half an hour to reach him. Sushant was almost asleep when the cake came and Abhipreet and someone else puked when they got back to IIT.

Was awesomest fun. I hope we get to do this more often. What say guys?

Stats......continued

2009-09-30T21:45:00.001+05:30

In continuation of Nandys blog I should add some stats of my own which amused me to no end.
It’s hard to follow a sequence here but I will put the ones that followed fact, first

1. 100% is the time Anupam used to over react when hit by a traveling ball. The size of the ball and the culprit for the “accident” was not category. SG , ya ok, understandable. Arijit, no way. Not even if Anupam becomes Anupama.
2. 99.5% was the time Keshav used to “acquire/abhi liye hai store se” a pen when lying around. If it would be Amarto’s pen, this percentage would sometimes touch 105% percent. Don’t ask me how that’s possible. Ask Keshav
3. 8% of the time spent during the 24 hours in a day, SG used to not think about sex/rape/harassment/groping a female.
4. 0.2% of time Amarto was not irritating somebody or explaining the “lucky” boy why he was the correct choice of becoming his friend.
5. Abhiket maintained the envious 100% record of crying while reading the news on a morning assembly. Details: he read it just once and broke all records.
6. 78% of the time Anshuman was engrossed in his favorite activity. Please avoid thinking imagining gardening; it was maths or cricket, or both together.
7. 94% of teachers have spanked/ molested Dwi bhai in some way or the other. On second thought I would rate the percentage higher but my analysts tell me they don’t have concrete evidence.
8. Atul torturing some one (mentally or physically) was always a high number. I have the exact percentage, but I am not stupid enough to expose that on a public forum and live the rest of my life in fear.
9. Of course Vivek. 100% - be it what so ever. No way can be any lesser.
10. 85% of the sexually deviant boys in the school had a crush on Pritam Pal Singh. The rest 15% were distributed between Shubh, Hem Maharaj and few more unmentionables.
11. 4% of the students believed that the Bengali Drama competition was the highlight of the cultural calendar. These 4% were those who were acting in the Drama.
12. 82% of us who hated luchi, ate with it unreserved aplomb and Besharmiyat. I was in that 82%.
13. 90% of the time “who baccha jo hamesha gussa rehta hai – Ankit”, would end up smashing /cracking the cricket bat in Kota.
14. 100% of Pallav-Parivesh activities/conversations were funny in some way or the other. The contrast alone would be hilarious.
15. Almost all of us were lame.

Rest, later

Topics

2009-09-28T18:09:00.001+05:30

What should I write about today? With a big dip in the enthusiasm of people and posts about vidyapith , the writing is clearly on the wall, that we have to post better blogs.

Sounds simple, but I am absolutely clueless as to what to write. Maybe I could write about some of my batchmates. Done that. Some unlucky teacher. Done that as well. Some maharaj. I dare not. I am not that brave. No one wants to bear the wrath of a man dressed in saffron.

So... umm... I will probably talk about the typical discussions that happened at every corner with students from each batch and region actively took part it.

The foremost that comes to mind is how “cool or badmaash humara batch hai”. I mean this is no less that a disease. Every batch used to highlight and propound the theory of how they excelled over other batches on grounds of dushtaami and stupidity. Ridiculous. I fail to understand that how can it be cool. Maybe the sense of breaking the rules was some kind euphoria. But for how long. A day or two. We were really dumb back then. Quarrelling with teachers and ignoring authority used to give us a high. Nothing less than orgasmic.

The other “topic” would be how much better hindi movies were than their English counterparts. The crazy part is that most of the people involved in this highly intellectual debate were the ones who had never watched a good English flick. Preposterous. I remember a certain someone who would always rebut my allegations, meeting me and telling me that we were so stupid back then. I was like thank god, I am not the only one who realises it.

The usual bickering about the shoddy food and the boring and ignorant teachers happens in every school and ours was no exception. But the countless hours we could do that was impressive. Even today when we catch up, the discussion invariably steers in that directions and “how ladu uttam da was” brings a deafening clapping and laughing bout. But the credit should also go to the unique creatures that imparted education to us, cause if it not for them we would have had a pretty boring 5-7 years in that hole.

Some more, some other time.

Khana

2009-08-28T17:35:00.002+05:30

Now that I have run out of “specimens” to write about from my batch, and after countless death threats of those who were next in line, I will be writing about issues that we all were part of, commonly. The pains which scarred our psyche, bogged us down and made for rich gossip are in plenty. One of my favorites was the Vidyapith food in the “Dining Hall”.

A non vegetarian meal on 6 days of the week, fresh milk from the dairy farm daily, ample food for all would give you an idea of the luxury we had when it came to culinary delights. The truth, as always was from it. Yes being in a missionary school, when you get this kind of food, you should consider yourself lucky, but I was never a fan of the khana that I had to gulp down my throat. SG I know, you would not agree. We all understand and respect that.

Where do I start? Papad ki sabzi? Or posto (although I screctly loved it)? Or hardly-cooked rotis? Neeramis? Or the never-good-paneer? I don’t have a very long list, but when you have the same kind of food every night, it makes a difference between yumm and yuck. Soyabeans, well.. they were ok.

Most of us came to the Dining Hall, for dinners half conscious. We had the study time before it so I guess you can figure out the reason. Food, as conceived by men-folk is the source of energy and strength. Not in our dining hall. The whole khane se taakat milta hai hypothesis would begin outside our mess area. We came sleepy we went sleepy. Food was not good to say the least. I remember an incident, when the dustbin had toppled over, a dog wandering around, came close, smelt the contents and silently returned back. That image has not left me since.

On special days we had to drink chirota. Splendid. Never came across anything better.

At times, some of my friends and fellows found items like nails, pins in their food. No biggie. They were there for the iron supplement. Maybe the poor and adulterated milk quality was reflected when someone or the else always had a broken bone and enjoyed his days recovering in the school hospital.

I do not why I have written about the food although the food was comparatively not that bad and especially considering the money we paid for the food. But for kids, in that age, growing healthy and eating correct should be the top priority. For us escaping the brutal attacks on Shakti mj in the dining hall took prime importance.

I guess I was always waiting for the mishti.

Teacher log Part 2

2009-07-24T20:10:00.001+05:30

Teacher log part 2

Apart from the ones I had mentioned in my previous post, I am itching to sponsor some other “teachers” who left everlasting impacts on our poor souls.

Nirmal da was one of them. His actions, mannerism, style, unequal legs, were all boring. I mean you cannot imagine the pain it was to sit in his wintery evening studies. 2.5 hours were no less than 6. People could travel to America and come back in his studies. Time itself would go in hibernation when he marshaled around the study hall. I remember out of the whole class 9 batch, only 3 of guys during the study time. Rest all were standing, which was the standard punishment given when you were caught sleeping in the study time. And the worst part was he would not let you sit. If somehow, some rebellious kid did sit down on his own, he was made to stand up again not without a warning that he was next in line for corporal punishment.

His impacts on us were physical too at times. He could wield the stick well since he had been practicing on small kids since time in memorial. The day I was joining, Premanada Dham was mentioned on my letter. I was happy, because as I kid I wanted some Prem in my new boarding school. But alas, there stood Nirmal Da. He smacked my dreams out in the first evening meeting itself.

His eating tareeka was anything but common. He would act like a ninja in the mess. Come, sit, eat and walk away without any notice. I hope with time he came to know that all that he got was noticed. Fullto James Bond the Nirmal da.

I wish to write a lot about my Brahmananda Dham warden. But he is often viewing my blogs, so I should keep off that topic. We have plenty of time to talk about him later.

Manikant Da was our Hindi teacher. He was so talented in finding meanings. Dead poets would roll over in their graves when he would explain their famous poems to us. We would sit like ducks only to listen. We dare not answer. No body wanted the class to extend his class even by a minute. He was the typical Indian. Dhoti kurta with vigorous spells of obscene “gardening” when he used to walk is what his signature style was. He was tall. Too tall to be a Hindi teacher, I believe. I mean with that structure he should have been our PT instructor. The irony lies in the fact that Ali da was the chosen one. Nandy has written much about him. Maybe his dad forget to explain “Kavi yeh batana chahta hai hi aap bahut lambe chaude hai hindi padhane ke liye”.

The trio of the Hindi gurus- Manikant Da, Udit Da and Anil Da was the funniest I know of. They used to sit and bitch and judge the rest of the people. I mean with Anil Da’s accent and Udit Da’s comments who would not laugh. I always did when I could eavesdrop on some of their discussions which varied from the US president to how gay Hem maharaj is.

Others will be dissected. In peace.

MANI

2009-07-03T15:00:00.000+05:30

Mani

He is a conflict in himself. I am not sure though, I mean I will not bet my money on this, but I feel that Mani can relate to what I am about to mention over here. I find Mani trapped between two generations, between two stages of the evolved mind.
One of them, which is very easy to detect when you meet him or even when you talk to him - is that of a child. He has he child like face, a childish mannerism and innocence to him. Laruddin chisti is what he became famous as during the time in Kota. The famous trio (we all know what I am talking about here) was made fun of on an hourly basis. God alone knows what we would do had we not had an burning issue like that when we had nothing to do other than gossip in Kota. Just think people. Who allows someone else to keep “burandi” as their email password? Atul allotted that for Mani and he gleefully accepted it, making him the biggest ladu of all times. He would invariably be in that cocoon and act with that sincere naivety. I used to partake in the mazak by adding athi-athi to everything that I possibly could when I used to chat with him, with a Bihari touch of course (in simpler words, I would enact his way of speaking, morons). Mani would smile and make fun of Tripura. Illiterate that he is, didn’t know exactly what he was talking about.
Only we from Tripura know that luxury of staying in the most advanced state of the country. Manipur is not a state; it’s a territory in itself. They want a unique state of their own and I respect that. Go Manipur, go.
The other side of Mani was the maha chodu- maha kamuk guy. Tales of his throbbing libido scare porn stars. If sources are to be believed, Mani screwed a prosti in the 1st year of college. That too in a place like Dhanbad? Yuck. God that prosti would have been ugly. But then when you have been carrying a hard on since they day you were in your senses; you can hump anything that moves. He also had the best collection of erotic stories in Kota. I was a regular subscriber. Compare that to the endless list of comic books- Nagraj and Dhruv and Doga and what-not that he had devoured and discussed with his elder bro a million times over. He once recited me dialogs from a special Nagraj edition. I was pretty sure that the erotic grunts in his Hindi porno novel were on the tip of his tongue as well. When you compare these two- the baccho wala comics and bado wala porno stories - at the same time frame and for the same person, the smile on your face is purely of amazement.
Atul and Mani formed quite a pair. They were like husband and wife in some respects.
Mani would obediently run his errands and get fucked as when Atul wished for.
I became good friends with him only in Class 9th, I guess, when both of us were hospitalized for leg injuries. He would tell me tales of Muzzafarpur and all the dudes form out batch that came from that heavenly place. My favourite amongst them have to be Neel and Anshuman. I miss you guys.
Mani has always been a great friend and will always be. And this line is most true for him that for anyone else. Dil pe mat le yaar, haath main le. ;)

Teacher log PART I

2009-06-06T13:14:00.000+05:30

The gods above us have their mysterious ways. They sure added a lot of mystery and a little something and lack of sense when they created the “teachers” who came to shed their immense experience, knowledge and intrinsic worth in the halls of Vidyapith.

We were truly blessed. How many of other students can claim to have so much diverse fun and mojaa? Remember Bardhan da gaping in amazement when somehow a piece of chalk landed on near his collar and stayed there, how kanchan da would change from teaching English to calculus within seconds, how uttam da would keep on criticizing the RKMV management for admitting the dangerous criminals of Bihar to enter the school and then into his classroom, how Manikant da would find hundreds of more meanings than the Poet of the simple kavita could imagine.

My favorites were surely the likes of manoj da and subheshwar da (epscially when he was pounding some one else’s bones into a million pieces) etc. These were people who would snap without any prior indications. Their mood would change from hasi-khushi to boom-boom-“start crying” just like that. I have been on the receiving end from Manoj da myself and learnt things like “never even think of passing a comment and getting away with it”. In my defense all I did in that unfortunate class was pass an almost inaudible comment about the huge and very boring dhamwork panned out to us. I was beaten to blue with the class duster (hardest wooded duster) and asked to stand out in all his lectures from then on. The guy was almost always serene and tranquil but as they say, when your stars are aligned all wrong, even Paramhansa sits back and enjoys the show.

Subheshwar da is a legacy in RKMV. The whole episode started with the then Shahrukh of the class, Sankarsan receiving blows from a hundred pound right hand while the left hand held him aloft, 6 inches from terra-firma. I couldn’t imagine myself surviving an attack from the beast to my guts. I would have fainted and died right there. This was like the beast breaking his shackles. The next ones to be smashed were Abhiket, Parivesh , Keshav and god only remembers who else. Abhiket’s issue was close affair. I remember vividly when Abhiket, very terrified asking a question to SJ da, turned towards me and asked me the same. I said “ nahi pata yaar, sir se puch le na”. With all the courage Abhiket could muster, he somehow raised his feline paws and answered the question. What followed needs no explanation. Imagine being beaten to pulp only because of asking a question and the excuse to this thumping was that he disturbed the class by asking the question later than when the topic was being taught. What happened to ask-me-as-many-questions-as-you-want cliché?

Uttam da was in his league of his own. He was the eccentric types. I say this because I was caned to maroonness because me and Palit were running around the dham. We made a lot of fun. Had it not been for him we would have missed out on a lot of awesome one liners and accusations that never hurt but always made us smile. Prashant mimicking him with the monkey cap was perhaps something that will never be erased from my memory.

I have a lot of things to add to this and I will continue with this long-lasting mental harassment in due time. Watch this space for more.

Open forum

2009-06-04T12:26:00.003+05:30

The thought of which single incident has to be labeled as the funniest incident during our stay in Vidyapith has been troubling me for some time now. Things like this don’t trouble me much. But a friend of mine asked me this some time back and I wanted to impress her by narrating a real good one. We all know girls also. They have a great memory and since then she has been constantly on my ass to come up with that single mostest-funniest of all.

There are millions of them, aren’t there? I mean I can come up with so many stories when I think of atul, prashant, sushant, amarto, anupam, sg, vivek etc etc. indivisually. The parivesh – pallav incident of the enactment of the 1857 incident and the pure timing of it is somewhere on the top of my list. Palit ka “kapra pasariye aasi” is a knock out one liner. The amarto sankha homosexual (yuck) incident can make you cry. Shojib ka “tum class main gas chhodhe ho", is sometimes not appropriate to discuss on a dinner table, but then with guys, we have always been disgusting.
So what I ask of you is to contribute and tell me which story should I tell her. Don’t think as to whether the story is fit to share. Just share it. Jyada mat sochna please. I am waiting. Meri izzat ka sawaal hai.

Pics

2009-06-02T10:18:00.002+05:30

Have some pics that need to be shared... for our fun and for others reference. And anyways the blog needs some colors

This is Parivesh... the influence i was talking about.....

Atul and Ankit... Mr Sabse Harami and Phoolputra

Rabi... the coolest one.. RIP bro.

Notice Shubhs left hand. Here with Abhipreet (Mr Stories) and Snehil (angry young man)

Anupam doing what he does best..

ANKIT

2009-05-21T22:21:00.003+05:30

Ankit

During his 4 year extended picnic in Kota, Ankit was perceived by everybody else as the “mota ladka jo hamesha gussail rehta tha”. Ankit has been a spectrum in himself when it comes to attitude and warmth towards others.
I don’t have a lot to write about. I dare not throw any dirt too, because a full grown rhinoceros can outrun a jeep and overturn it with one push from its strong shoulders. And I don’t want to be in that jeep. Shubh used to always flirt with danger when he used to tease Ankit by saying that “jiske paas power hota hai, uska wrong bhi right hota hai”, but then Shubh has always been the flirty kind. We could understand the true meaning of it, and even when no words were said, the meaning was agreed without words. The never ending debate between Dwi bhai and Ankit as to who is the father and who is the son always ended with us in raptures and Dwi bhai running from Ankit or Atul interrupting with some gross comment about each others mothers. Talking about Atul, he gave him the very famous and very funny name- GENDASWAMI and PHOOLPUTRA respectively. All those who were in Kota must remember how the latter name came about. Whatever the name be and whether Ankit is the son or the father, the Corleone blood runs in Ankit cause of the Bhai connection. Maybe this explains the belligerence, the blood thirst and the extra pounds.
There is something that each one of you could experiment on your own risk. When we were in Kota we had concluded that if you called Ankit from somewhere far away where Ankit could not see you, he would typically react in the same way every time. We would follow him and shout Ankit and then hide. Ankit would never turn the first time. Called again, he would turn his head, but no more than 30 degrees. If the third time, he could not figure who was calling him the usual “bhak madarchod” would follow. Pyara Ankit- baby rhino.
Anger was like Ankit’s shadow. The poor cricket bat that broke into a million pieces (three equals million here) are fresh in cricket books written on the Bansal park. Captains chose Ankit foremost when team selections were done. Maa Chudaye batting and bowling, saala ladai karne ke liye chahiye na koi. His cracked/semi-cracked and completely broken wooden and iron beds have also experienced the wrath and not survived the night. Aise hi thodi na Ganeria bulate the motu ko.
The thick skin of the Rhino is a no brainer. This kid of Hercules was an occasional sight getting spanked from teachers and maharajs. Once Nandy Da hit him with a cane which left a mark on his face. Strongest of boys would shed tears on mere thought of it, but Ankit has always been tougher than what we know of him.
Enough said and plenty shared. I don’t generally write things that I actually should write about my fellow batchmates, but today I won’t miss that chance. Ankit has always been a great friend. We shared a great rapport from Vidyapith which grew in Kota and which got even better in Cochin.
I love you man and I know you love me too, not in the way you used to love Pallav in Vidyapith though. It pains to think that I am leaving this place and there would be no one like him where I am going to. The ways we used to patao bandiyan here, hog, jester others, point and laugh and do all kinds of masti will always remind me of the great times spent in Cochin. Thanks Ankit. Cochin will always remind me of you and the good Saturdays. Jai Ankit baba ki.

VIVEK

2009-05-13T14:46:00.003+05:30

Vivek

Alias: Thakur, Raja, Mohoraja (in areas where Bengali is spoken, and by Shajib)

Synonymous with: Terror, Kings, Passion, Territories (specifically Nepal here), Chivalry, Valor, Jhanda, Dadaji, Kutta.. Etc.

Last Seen: with King Gyanendra discussing top secret issues related to the democracy and general condition of Nepal

Preferred mode of transport: Horse. His famous horse, more than the legendary Chetak, would gallop at supersonic speeds and cover the distance between India and Nepal in minutes. The term “khete –khet” originated here.

History:

Spent his childhood days learning hand to hand combat, fencing, horse riding, learning war strategies etc. Came to Ramakrishna Mission Vidyapith in class 5^th due to tremendous pressure from Nepali rebels and innumerable death threats. As predicted, rose to tremendous popularity and became extremely famous with fellow students, seniors and teachers and the monks. Vivek was a good athlete and sportsman. Javelin throwing came naturally to him (which came as no surprise to us and which is very understandable). His bowling action was a treat as well. He was so used to “jhanda gaadna” that it somehow fashioned his bowling action as well. The story of scoring seven runs of the last ball against a perennially irritating Keshav runs across generations.

His cycling was envied by Lance Armstrong. He could ride an average sized bicycle on the edge of a normal flower pot. He once used this cycle to jump over a bridge. Pardon me because I have sketchy details of that incident and so I don’t want to broadcast any incorrect detailJ.

His vocal abilities deserve a mention as well. In Yoga Dham, he used to hum his favorite numbers, which we forcibly had to listen to and approve us. Life against 5 minutes of intense torture, simple mathematics. He passed out from Vidyapith in 2004 after his Class 12^th. The bronze statute of Thakur Vivek instead of Swami Vivekananda in the +2 building, speaks volumes of the countless ways he touched the lives of people who came to know him.

Vivek then moved to the central location of Delhi to affect a larger population. The prime minister of India then, personally asked him to reside is Delhi. Somehow I lost him in all of his constant travels to various locations all over the world. I am sure all of you also want to know his whereabouts today. Please let me know as well.

Description:

some 5’ 7” ish. Dark, extremely handsome, killer looks, 20 kilos weighing right hand, 19.5 kilos left. Wears a 2 kilo wrist watch which can be used as a weapon of mass destruction if required. Sleeps with legs crossed as in when we sit “aalti-palti maarke baitha jaata hai”. Generally sports a bandana, given to him by Kebaran (who btw is the last living Samurai, and please lets not discuss him), red in color, with "Death is my best friend" (in florescent colors) inscribed on it. Occasionally wears one more yellow hanky on right wrist, stained with the blood of hundreds of rebels of Nepal, and also of the dog who sacrificed his life to save his loving master when Vivek’s Dadaji had darted the very famous Khanjar towards him. Looks best with a pair of oversized, glaring and local sunglasses ( Rs 150 wale). For further description consult Delhi girls who will vouch for all I have said and will bore you with endless stories of this modern day hero.

Occasional sightings:

can be seen once in a while at his Pushtani - Haveli somewhere near India-Nepal border. Interesting fact: the whole Nepal ruthless killing fiasco of the royal family was viewed by Vivek from his Bathroom itself. The British Media claimed that it was masterminded by Vivek. No conclusive evidence has been found so far but people of Nepal are very happy that they have a new secret leader and brain.

No body is sure of where he is right now. Was reported that his Dadaji erected a new college for him when Vivek expressed his wish to study in one. Lucky dog.

Future predicted Sighting: Stabbing me with his Dadaji’s Khanjar.

ABHISHEK

2009-05-08T09:08:00.001+05:30

Abhishek

I always knew this would happen. I mean I had created this monster. I was writing at such a good pace, describing the choicest of god’s creations and my unfortunate batch mates with clinical and critical precision, that one day I had to shatter the timeline. And the worst part is even though I was always aware of it; I could not do anything about it. Laziness and complacency. Old friends, perennial foes. Been almost a month since I entered a “new post” and my blog. I stand disgusted and without excuses.

But I am not the only one at fault. Long chats before new entries would be posted, me and Abhipreet would go by that road once again. This guy as we all know would remember things that we have forgotten, incidents that faded, anecdotes that needed dusting, and cobwebs that had to be swept away. And since he left Bangalore and his job, I hardly find some one to feed me the story-fodder. Maybe this is why, the following entry about Abhishek might miss some incidents that the world so desperately needs to remember or know. The onus thus falls on the batch on 2002 to remind of how deeply retarded Abhishek really was.

“The morning got it to me very late”

I wish I could make it more obvious. I cannot it seems. We were in Kota then. I guess that mundane place “got it” to Abhishek as well. His diary read this on that unique day. 13 others, we all would always, secretly read his diary and have a hearty laugh about it. But this random, meaningless, grammatically incorrect and “what-the-fuck-evoking-feeling” statement of the usual morning got us all baffled and desperately looking for an answer. Come on yaar, all of you who have that feeling that maybe you could decipher this 21st century puzzle, take your guesses. If even one gets it correct, I will sponsor your one day one night stay in Cochin. This was like 5-6 years ago. Abhishek may have filled up hundreds of diaries by now but no single statement made about the day or about any other thing on this earth has been such nonsense. I guess the statement reflects the persona Abhiskek Pagli was. Beyond understanding. And millions of years ahead of us when it came to understanding mornings.
His incident of being robbed of his shorts, which for your kind information was the only piece of cloth on him that night in the IL campus, is part of folklore today. Mothers recite their young ones tales of horror, and the story of a whitish, spectacled, broad guy running around naked in the middle of the night eventually comes up and the most restless of kids go to sleep, terrified of the naked monster.

In the hindsight, I don’t know why I wanted to write about Abhishek. I don’t have many stories about him but his mere thought makes me smile and say “kya ajeeb pagla tha”.

The funniest room-mates together ever- Abhishek and Nishant. Ahan, these guys were such a spectacle. We would always group together in their room in the scorching heat and just observe these two take it out on each other. Add Atul to the fray and it was a riot. Dwivedi bhai, Ankit, Shajib, Sushant, Snehil etc etc would also join in and we could not stop laughing. Abhishek would stand out by the way he would give the most peculiar of explanations and answers to the most common of problems/issues and the way he would once in a while be his usual self doing PAAGLAMI.

Nuff’ said. Abhishek is also one of the cleanest and friendliest of souls around. An awesome athlete, a stud, a charmer and a complete sweetheart. I am sure he would go through this very soon. And I am sure he would come to Cochin again. Bhai, please make my day. I have run out of stories.:-)

CHANDAN

2009-04-08T09:14:00.000+05:30

Chandan

I get the apple pies of all dishes, don’t I? I believe that in the whole Vidyapith Blogging fraternity everybody would have fancied the chance of writing about Chandan. It baffles me myself that I have written about 8-9 batch mates of mine before I am contemplating Chandan. There is so much to tell, share and laugh-when-read. I don’t think that I would recollect all the incidents and picture everything down in this small write up, so I would love it if everyone who goes by it to put in their individual and missed out events connected to this genius of a lad.

We resemble other things-dead and alive. Chitresh would remind you of a football, Sankarsan of Shah Rukh Khan and Chandan of a tube light without a starter. In fact Chandan was addressed as Tube only; people seldom took his correct name. There are so many stories associated to that feature of his.

I guess the one I remember the best is the broom and dirt incident. One fine day after completing the wonderful task of sweeping the floor, Chandan set out to put the things in their correct place, only to realize 5 minutes later that he had placed the broom in the dustbin and thrown the dirt in the broom box. Rohit Da cashed on it and made sure that the whole of Vidyapith came to know about it.

Another story is when he somehow got up at 4 in the morning and could not know the time when he had the wall clock right behind his head. This happened in Turiyananda dham. He would seldom start calling out names to find someone only to realize later that that someone would be right in front of him. The incident with Anshuman is also to remember and enjoy. Anshuman was very irritated with Chandan for something, so much so that he picked up a big stone and threw at him. Chandan, the genius he is, ducked to avoid the stone. But Anshuman had actually flung the stone at his legs to avoid hitting him seriously. What followed was a cracked head, a pint of blood and one more hilarious story. There are millions of other incidents but they seem to have swept out of mind and placed in the broom box.

Chandan was the same kid who cried his eyes out when he joined Vidyapith. He cried so much that we feared he would dehydrate himself. PJ nahi hai, sachhi baat hai. Who would have imagined that the same home-sick guy would give us so many reasons to laugh so hard that our stomachs would hurt?

His dad also became very famous amongst us. There was news floating when he was in 10^th that he was about to have a new brother. We were both happy and astonished. Don’t know how that ended but I am sure we would have gossiped hours together over that issue.

Chandan was also the romantic kinds. His exploits of Abhiket and his love affair with JC were both a spectacle and envious to few. He also had some affairs when he was preparing for his medical entrance exams in Delhi. I hope that they were at least with girls. Thinking about the time when I had met him in Delhi, I noticed something I guess never occurred to me before. Chandan would walk as if he was looking the world for the first time; walk as if he was a new to the world. The tube title would be so appropriate.

Chandan is almost a doctor now. The mere thought of him being a doctor brings a flurry of emotions- fear, drama, humor, more fear and lots of laughs. God save us all.

GANGULY

2009-04-03T08:59:00.000+05:30

Ganguly

I feel like Santa right now. With my bag full of stories and an aim to spread laughter, I come close to the white bearded burly guy from the North Pole. The only difference that comes to me is that I am not distributing gifts and the following is not for young kids.

Ganguly is a unique character. His stories all the more original.

My favorite though, is not a story. It is a song “Aambagane gacche tole gand maracche ganguly”. Those who know what this is, need no explanation, those who don’t, well I don’t wish to explain it. Some things cannot be explained. They are too precious to be shared.

We in Vidyapith had this thing to us. What I mean is that in our 5-9 year stint in Vidyapith we were associated with one very famous line or incident. That line has stuck to us like an alias. Ganguly unluckily has two of them. I have already discussed the more famous one. But the more hilarious one is when Ashok Da reprimanded Ganguly for sleeping in the class by saying, “Ganguly uth jao, varna agar sote rahoge to dekhoge ki tumhara bagal wala dost yahaan pe Praktani ban ke aaya hai” (Ganguly wake up, otherwise if you keep sleeping you will see that the guy sitting next to you has come back as an Ex student). Askoh Da was hilarious. Ganguly was the perfect victim.

Ganguly was one guy who could anything, anytime, anyplace for football. On hot Wednesdays and Sundays when most of us would come back to the cool shed of our dormitories and a glass of cold water, there would be one guy dribbling the ball in the playing fields. He had an insatiable appetite when it came to sports in general, football in particular. He was the most feared defender in the whole of the footballing fraternity in Vidyapith. For you who haven’t seen this guy in person, he is this short but stocky guy. (He might be as tall as Ritesh I guess. On second thoughts he has to be taller than Ritesh. Everybody is taller than Ritesh.) Coming back to the topic, it was hard to imagine that much energy is a boy with that dimensions. And I haven’t ever seen him, or heard from someone, complaining that he had enough of khelna. Simply unbelievable.

There were a few other yummy stories that you can bite into. We could somehow dig this out. Once when Manikant Da, our Hindi teacher asked us to write an essay about our “priya pustak” or favorite book, Ganguly in a very nonchalant way wrote about the famous hindi comic book serpent god Nagraj. That too in an examination. Not only did he write about him, but he wrote about how he got all his powers, something that maybe Nagraj would not be sure of.

Couple of stories that many might not know (contributed by Abhishek, thanks a ton) are as follows. Once when Ganguly had bunked the morning PT he had a peculiar incident. The morning PT would be like only of 15-20 minutes. Within this short nap, Gangs had nightfall. Do not wonder. Anything is possible with him.

The other story occurred in Kota. His parents had come to meet him. He is the only son and hence his parents are very close to him. In Vidyapith as well, they would seldom come to check upon and meet him. In Kota, Gangs had this whole stash to porn magazines. Sensing the calamity if her mom would see his messy room, Gangs cleaned up his room forgetting to clean the magazines beneath his bed. His parents were very happy to see the clean and tidy room. But as they say when you run of luck, lightning can hit you twice. His dad somehow felt that the bed was not very clean and wanted to clean it up himself. I guess you can figure out what happened. His dad went into a small shock and lay there over the magazines for 2-3 hours holding his head, acting as if he had seen a ghost. I wish we could see all this with our own eyes. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything, given a chance.

This present day aspiring doctor has a list of teachers who spanked him red. Dashrath da, Uttam Da and Burdan Da of all people have perfected their hand to hand combat skills on this poor creature. I guess when he became one of the Bhoots on Sivaratri, it came as no surprise to us we knew that God had hand picked Ganguly himself.

Reflecting on what all he has done and knowing that he is now studying for becoming a doctor, I pity the patients who would come to him. He would ask them to play cricket with him or else he would not treat them or in case they refused he would kick the balls out of them. Whatever the situation might be, I am sure Gangs would give me reasons aplenty to expand this post.

Thanks bro. For everything.

ARIJIT

2009-03-31T09:13:00.002+05:30

Arijit

Now that I have started blogging, thinking I would get my peace putting my thoughts to words, I am faced with a troubling situation. It is getting difficult to choose whom to write about. But my conscience screams out to me to tell the stories of all those whom are generally not discussed over the café coffee day ice tea (irony), the scraps and the ever prevailing “back-biting and gangism”. I am an instinctive person and more often than not it leads me to trouble, but what the heck. Arijit won’t kill me for the following lines.

Ask any batch mate of mine to describe what comes to his mind when the solemn word Arijit is mentioned. A good 90% would tell you how his “balls” saved him from each and every situation. And I am not talking about the common everyday meaning of the afore mentioned word, I am referring to the physical attributes. Yuck, I know. Its flows something like this.

We in Vidyapith were a lazy lot. And moreover nobody would love to get up 5.30 in the morning, dress up in a dhoti, go to a prayer hall, sing god knows what and then get ready for the morning drill in 5 minutes. So we all somehow or the other made excuses to avoid it by producing some medical slips. It used to be a sight. Shakti Maharaj (our chief warden and the fiercest man I have come across) would check each case himself. A doubt of less than .001% would mean that the kid with the so called problem would now get spanked and would be left to actually get hospitalized. But one boy from our batch would stand there confident, laughing, pitying us. You have guessed it. It was Arijit. He claimed to have this medical condition in which he had some fluid in his balls. Something called Hydrocil. I have never come across any other creature with the same problem so it falls beyond the realm of my limited understanding to make you understand what it was.

Arijit got splendid mileage for his condition. Teachers did not shout at him, wardens did not spank at him. Who wanted to be labeled as the guy who burst that holy bubble and be hated for the rest of his life? Men compare everything. From the size of their cars to the size of their …. Arijit would always have a calm to him when we started comparing. Dude, you had the trump.

Arijit though once got the crap slapped out of him. That too from a fucking driver, man. There was this driver, Bhagirath da, a confidante of the chief warden. One day when Bhagirath was carrying some sweets, boys swamped him for obvious reasons. What followed was perhaps the most embarrassing moment for this great soul. He got slapped. SG (we all know him)who was close, to make it worse, noticed it and made sure that Arijit could never forget what had just happened to him by constantly reminding him that a driver had slapped him. Abhipreet thanks for sharing this; I am sure Arijit loves to remember it as much as I do. I guess Bhagirath did not know about the Holy balls.

Much talk about his you-know-what. Arijit was the Javagal Srinath of the rest cricket team. He would be one of the lucky ones to complete two overs in one play time or stop the ball before it hit the fences. I too wanted him in my class 10^th cricket team. His know how of the football teams and their players was amazing at first and repetitive later. We all concluded that he knew some names and he made all kinds of stories about them.

He and Tamal da (yeah the fainter) would spend endless nights discussing the new Indian team before each match. Had there been pure democracy in this nation, he would be the co-head of the Indian cricket board. They would mercilessly dissect the form of every poor performance and suggest the swap with a new player. Ganguly would have been such a happy captain with this Bong selector. Oh yes, Ari is a bong, from Siliguri.

You can call me a sadist, but it was so much fun to fight with Arijit. Quarrel to be more exact. He would never fucking look at you. Only God knows why he would look 3 feet above your head when he would try to make a point. I guess the notion of creating fear in the opposition by mere staring would never hold good in his case. We would be so amused and would pick up topics to stoke the fire in Arijit. He would never disappoint.

Last that I know of Arijit was that he was doing his Aeronautical engineering in Pune, I even had a small talk with him over the phone once. I thanked God that he would only make and repair planes and never ever get into one. At very high altitudes, the pressure difference could result in his balls to burst. Now no body wants that man. Every guy wants to have friends who have the balls.

N.B. : This post can be distasteful and disgusting to few, but I have tried to do full justice to what I had in mind. Arijit is so going to kill me for this.

SHOJIB

2009-03-26T07:13:00.003+05:30

Shajib

“Pyar se hum kota main isko tunu bulate the.” (For the ignorant lot, tunuram or tunu was the loo cleaner in vidyapith. Now, how did Shajib manage to get that tag to himself is another story. Some other day.)

And as Souvik (I am no more using Mr. S as it is getting very confusing for everyone else) put it, tunu had to go to US as he had cleaned up all the toilets in India. Ha ha ha .

Shajib has a long list of achievements, embarrassing moments, incidents that we talk and have been talking about whenever we Vidyapithians (this new word is available in Oxford) manage to get together. I have been near him for like 7 years and I guess I have covered most of it.

Let me put it chronologically. Shajib was the quintessential talked about guy in our batch. Most of it had to do with his height and his exploits on the football ground. I too wanted to dribble, run, shoot and curl like him. Was a terrific sportsman and athlete. We all admired him. He was the foreigner (girls don’t get excited, he is from Bangladesh, which is even worse than Tripura) who shone bright in RKMV Deoghar, Jharkhand, India.

But his off field antics were more famous, funny and remembered. Arguably the funniest one was when the super “ladu” i.e. lame Jhulan Da asked him to get out of the class in standard 9^th. I quote him “shajib class se bahar nikal jao, tum gas chodhe ho”, whose unadulterated English translation is “Shajib please leave the class as you have farted in the class”. Had this happened to me, I would have spit on my table and drowned myself in it. Shajib managed to live another day.

His Hindi was special as well. But it must have been hard for him. Since he had joined a year before me, I came to know that when he joined Vidyapith, he didn’t know any Hindi. He used to talk in a broken, gender-malfunctioned-manageable Hindi initially. But sometimes it was drop-on-floor-laugh-endlessly funny. “Pollobh, tumhara gardon tud denge” (Pallav I will break your neck) in Yoga dham is one of the most famous dialogs ever spoken. And in the cricket field when this giant was in prabhat’s team, and prabhat wasn’t bowling well, the “arre probhat tapka khilao na re” ( fucking prabhat, pitch the ball) had us in splits.

His endless talks with Atul and Ankit over serious issues like human relations which always only related to each others mothers was sometimes the highlight of the otherwise very boring day. Shajib would at times pretend to be Ankit’s mom and then do all kinds or promiscuous acts. I haven’t laughed that hard since.

He is a good actor and dancer and singer as well. We all expect him to be in the American Broadway in about six months time. I bet “beta hum ajeeb nahi, hum Shajib hai” would be a worldwide hit.

Shajib I am sure that you would read this sometime or the else. And I am not stupid to comment on the girls you have dated. That’s personal for me and you know that I have always stood by the Bro-Code.

Shit I almost missed the funniest one. When the 14 of us were in Kota, we would occasionally get a television set and cd player and all kinds of cds. There would be the new Hindi flicks, sometimes an English one and most importantly, the pornos. After watching the first Hindi movie, which would be generally fast forwarded and paused when Shubh used to laugh, we would demand the hottest porno to be played. Once with all the good seats taken, Shajib had to take a seat close to the television. He was not more than 3-4 feet away from the TV set. We all knew that this was the time Shajib did not even bat his eyelid. He loved pornos(as we all secretly do). The electricity went off and spontaneously Shajib folded his arms praying “Bhogban joldi se light le aao”(God please quickly get the electricity back). Most of the people did not notice this. I somehow could not forget it as the reaction of praying to God to get the electricity back to watch more pornography was extremely funny to me. Awesome.

Talking about Shubh, I hope you have gone through the Samurai Keb post in which the love triangle has been mentioned. Shajib the lover is the Mr. S in that section.

Jokes apart, Shojib is a guy with a very big heart and a bubble of warmth. He will always be a true friend and good lookingJ. Bhogban will bless you man.

MRINAL

2009-03-25T09:03:00.000+05:30

Mrinal

Disclaimer: whatever follows, is not my sole creation, thought. Abhipreet is as much to blame as I am. In fact it was he who came up with the juiciest ideas, funniest stories and forgotten incidents. Since I wanted to pay tribute to you, the mud-slinging is on me, but only partially.

There are very few things that can be made fun of when we talk about Mrinal. But as they say it’s better to be master of something than being a jack of all trades. Mrinal was the master of being semi-blind, of wearing inch thick glasses and carrying it with so much panache that all of us with perfectly normal vision envied him. All those who are reading this and wondering how much it could be, I want you to guess the power of his glasses. It was 9 when he was in vidyapith. He would sit in the same bench with two others who had powers of 5 and 7. Ask Mrinal who they were. I mean can you possibly beat it. It has been told to me, that one day this far sighted dude went to a lab in IIT and was doing some experiment, he complained to the lab attendant that he could not see something; the lab assistant humorously told him that if she could see it with a power of 8, how could he not? There is one in a million chances that she (the lab assistant), would hear the following “mera power 9 hai”. I guess we all have days when we embarrass ourselves and still laugh about it. It was the lab assistants turn that day.

Mrinal has had many “smacking” incidents in vidyapith. I do not think there is any which one which is more popular than the Nandy da “did you see the C” incident? I have always shared, heard, thought about it and found myself laughing or grinning. That day Mrinal was chased like a mouse and beaten till he turned red and blue. I don’t want to detail you on the incident; we all very well know what it was. One more incident that comes to my mind is as follows. It was perfectly clear day. Nandy da (again) was in the class distributing examination papers or teaching us something. Mrinal had somehow not scored well and was beaten with the duster and was asked to kneel down next to Nandy da himself. Someone else was called, only to be busted. Mrinal who had just had his share, and was kneeling, started to laugh, pitying the guy who was about to get it. Most of the days people show this kind of audacity and somehow get away with it. But when its not ones day, nothing wrong goes unnoticed. Nandy da saw Mrinal laughing and smacked him all the more harder this time. We could not stop laughing.

Mrinal’s relationship to calculus is what our relationship to an adult magazine is. It always excited him and he could never get enough of it. Maybe this why when the very irritating SSB da observed that in his calculus class (ya, we had lectures on calculus in class 9) that only Mrinal showed the potential and understanding to comprehend all of that at such a young age, we could imagine why. He also had this unique was of writing as the whole bench rocked when he scribbled his calculus in his notebooks. I remember when we were voting for our class captain in class 10, it was Mrinal that we wanted. When the results were announced, Mrinal was a clear winner. He was so lost in his calculus that he never knew that he had won. He had to be shaken from his calculus-fixation and appreciate what we had just done for him.

Mrinal was and always been a great sportsman. His bowling and football skills have been his forte. The flight of his bowl could bore a batsman to sleep. His enthusiasm and excitement after sighting a football was irrespective of the times he could actually put his foot to the ball. “Football dekh ke uska 90 ho jata tha” summarizes the emotion very well. The legendary Pele is his role model, Ronaldinho his favorite student.

In IIT Bombay he was also labeled as a gay. I am do not believe that, cause to mistake a guy for a girl one has to be completely blind, or that is what I think.

Mrinal used to also take singing lessons in school. Maybe he would see some calculus relationship to these melodies because otherwise it would be a complete waste of time for him. He sure must have had something in that always-working-brain of his.

Today this guy is teaching young aspiring IIT hopefuls to get into the prestigious college and doing a very good job. Dude there have been few that have always been fun and cool and still done wonders with their talents, you are one of those. “See” Ya.

TAMAL KAMAL

2009-03-18T19:17:00.001+05:30

Tamal Da

It is one in a million chance that maybe Tamal da, would ever read this small blog of mine. He might never come to know that today he inspired me, to which I should add, is not an easy task. I don’t know where he is today, what is he doing. Not sure whether he is alive or not. So Ttamal da in case you are still alive and reading this, I want you to know that you were in my head the whole time I was compiling this blog, and in case you are with us no more, which is very likely, the following is a obituary. For all others- have your laugh, but be respectful of the dead.

Ask some one what is their “thing” and they will give you puzzled looks. Allow me to make this clear to you with the help of a few examples you can easily relate to. Atul’s thing is pakami, haramigiri; Sushant’s thing is localami; my thing is hitting sixes (I know I am being pompous, but its my blog); and as Phoebe pointed out in FRIENDS to Ross that his thing was divorce. I guess you have now got a hang of what one’s thing is. Tamal da’s thing was fainting ; as in losing conciousness. I can see all of your nodding. And in case you don’t know him very well, believe me because I am not shitting you.

For Tamal, fainting was not only his thing. He lived, slept, ate and breathed it. It was his fetish, to be more politically correct. It was in his persona, his style, his statement. Months seldom passed, when he would not faint. Pure clockwork. There was only very few places/spots where he had never fainted or where he had not made up his mind to faint. I have heard that he used to keep this small list of places in his shirt pocket where he wanted to faint. He would then one by one get there, faint and strike the place off the list. What a man? A pioneer in the true sense of the word. Very few have walked between us who were this determined. He was a role model for the faint hearted ones. I admired him for his single minded determination.

Although it is an impossibly difficult choice to pick my favorite “faint”, but if I am pressed to choose one it would be the one in class 6. Kanak da, our history teacher had asked us to complete some map work in his class. Tamal was a famous scapegoat. He was asked to present his effort, but since he hadn’t, he was asked to kneel down next to Kanak da, facing the whole class. What followed is beautifully etched in my memory. This lanky dude from the happening city of Burdwan, fainted there itself. He had fallen face first to the hard solid, yet inviting floor. It was as if the floor was waiting with arms wide open. The reaction on Kanak da’s face was worth a million bucks. “Shayad muh main aana isi ko kehte hai”. Kanak da was petrified.

Some other days when Tamal da would faint in the morning assembly, it would create ripples of suppressed laughter, finger pointing, staring and extended but funny spells in the otherwise boring and painful morning assembly. He lost consciousness alike God R. would after watching white birds against the dark clouds.

We may never know how Tamal count faint on wish. Maybe it is a traditional thing. Or maybe his gene has that strong faint X chromosome. Whatever it is, Tamal, we all salute you. You have a fan following and you will always have one in me. The depth of his voice and strength of his body might have given him away, but mind you, a cornered animal is a very dangerous one, you never know what it will do, or in Tamal’s case, faint.

You will always be remembered as a guy who would fainted his way to glory. RIP.

ABHIKET

2009-03-17T09:23:00.000+05:30

Abhiket

I remember that morning day school assembly. We were in class 10^th then. Our English teacher had proposed this system in which boys from class 10^th would prepare and read out the news in the assembly. Since abhiket was the first one alphabetically, he was perhaps the first to confront his fears. The rest, as they say, is history.

For all those who don’t exactly remember that event, allow me to paint you a picture. Abhiket has a child-like, not-properly-developed voice. We nick-named him “billi” or the cat. That was mostly because he had this feline, non-human voice. Now since everyone was aware that abhiket was about to read the news, we waited with bated breadth to see how this one pans out. What happened was fun for us and embarrassing for him. He repeated the first line of his news three times because it was difficult to hear him, even with a mike, and then he broke down into a tear. Someone else then read out the news. That day itself, I had prepared myself to keep this story in mind if ever I would blog about abhiket. Déjà vu.

My earliest memories of him were of Premananda dham. We became friends the first day I joined Vidyapith. And moreover someone with that voice is hard to ignore. Who was sure that he was not a half human half cat? Or maybe one day when I found find I lion or tiger in a jungle, the reference of abhiket as my friend would be the difference between my life and death.

He is a good guy. We made constant fun of him, making sure that we provoke him enough to shout so that we could make more fun of him. He never took this to heart and was a good sport of it most of the times. There was nothing that he could do about it also.

The case of Mr. C and abhiket is tremendously famous. Details- one day Mr. C was on top of abhiket on his bed and playing with his luscious man-breasts, and shouting out loud “kya mast dood hai yaar”(what great boobs you have). The dormitory warden, Dhruv Maharaj enters and seems they “playing”. He stands there watching them closely and when he had enjoyed enough he interrupts this “game” by asking “Ki Hochche?” which translates to “what the fuck, dude?” Sorry the translation might have been a little over the edge but I am pretty sure this is what Dhruv wanted to shout out loud. I wasn’t there, I have only heard about it, but we don’t have to be rocket scientists to guess what would have followed. Boys started talking. The news spread like wild fire and soon this new act was more famous than Pritam Pal Singh. Oh yeah, and Mr. C and abhiket became a “couple”.

These days, this big fat cat is studying in a big college in Kolkata. No wonder he landed up in the land of fish. No points for guessing why.

Concluding, I would say definitely say that a guy like abhiket in one of his kinds and someone hard to forget. Dude, u meow, lionesque. Take care.

SAMURAI KEB

2009-03-14T09:18:00.000+05:30

Kebaran

A million ideas are rushing to me right now. I am not sure where to begin from. I hope I can do justice to this modern day Samurai. In case my dead body is found tomorrow, slashed by a sword, you know that these were my last words.

We all think we know some about Keb. But do we? All those who are nodding and smiling right now are the biggest fools. You are the most ignorant of the whole lot. I at least have realized that this is an impossible task, and I am honest about it.

When God was doing the task of putting the human brain in its proper place, and we all were waiting in the queue, Keb, the amazement that he is, was teaching God himself how to do it correctly. That’s right. I said it, put it in the open, I think Keb is from another planet altogether.

His antics have been the most memorable. In Vidyapith, I remember this tough Manipuri kid who was probably the most belligerent, hot headed and technologically advanced that has walked on earth. He had a talk, walk of his own. His talk has been talked about a lot. Our evenings in Kota used to get much funnier when Keb used to come over to our side of the town and tell us what’s been happening in his enchanted life. It was actually difficult to follow him word by word. His speed of voice and Manipuri accent made things all the more different. So we all made our own assumptions and kept on nodding lest Keb would get suspicious and verify as to what he was talking about. Keb, if you are reading this, it was mostly Mr. S and Mr. S who twisted it the most, not me.

He has lately become very famous for his “brief” visits to our friends places. A certain Mr. A will tell you an amazing story where he was mistaken for a cook by a Nepali guy.

(Since I heard it personally I consider a crime against humanity if I don’t share it with you.) What followed stunned the whole of Nepal. That cook was slapped so hard, by Keb that he complained of loss of hearing and had to go see a doctor. Now you know what you have to do when he shows up at your doorstep one fine day… make sure that if anyone working at your place is slant eyed, tell him who is coming over before hand. You don’t want to cook, clean on own and run around to find a new maid.

His exploits in the IIT wings and in Delhi and in god knows where have become folklore in Manipur. Stories of his ways are taught to small kids and are part of the school curriculum in some schools.

His “affinity” of a famous Mr. SD in vidyapith is also famous. Another Mr. SG who was also in “love” with the former Mr. SD gave a Bollywood triangle love angle to the whole story. When all three of them decided to come to Kota together, the beautiful Mr. SD was desired by both Mr. SG and Keb and both of them wanted to share their rooms with him.

The famous dialog “hum to vidyapith main hi uspe number laga diye the” is what followed.

Keb was so ahead of us. His special bonding with the Mumbai and Dehradun boys in Kota was heard far and wide. The seamless bond between the people from the two most advanced cities of India- Mumbai and Imphal was touching.

All said and done, Keb is a fantastic guy. Honest soul, intelligent and fun loving, he has enriched all out lives.

Finally all that I want to say is … KEB-DON’T-RUN.

GANGSTA DWI

2009-03-14T09:16:00.001+05:30

From Gods to the lesser mortals.

Since we are talking about the common man, I would like to be in the good books of this guy. We call him bhai, the world knows him as…..

Dwivedi:

Although he is known by many aliases like sabse chota rajan, da-wood ibrahim, killer kamina, paka harami etc., but we prefer the bhai.

It is very difficult to predict where he is this moment. Could be in vasco, Monaco or bettiah, but wherever he is, people treat him with semi-god status. The Interpol is after him with a cash reward of 100 million quids on his head. Been a gangsta, homie all his life.

His rendezvous with crime started at a very tender age. He was one of the rare jewels that we were very sure of. People who met him or knew him could see something great in him straightaway. And haven’t they been correct. Bhai ka bol bala duniya bhar main hai.

He has had the rare distinction of getting a stick from almost all of the teachers in Vidyapith. Even the paralytic Ashok da spanked him. Sorry bhai, but it was a lot of fun. Today when we talk about you, we often conclude that maybe that was one of the causes of unraveling the talent that was dormant in you.

He is revered and respected by one and all. The blood of the Corleone family runs in his vein. He is surely the most genuine and famous product in the famous Sicilian mafia family. Humare bhai.

I remember when bhai had come with rest of my friends in Kota after watching the super hit movie Janaasheen starring fardeen khan. Bhai was very pissed by the movie. The movie had a good hype to it. So everybody had expectations from the movie but I guess no one liked it. And bhai is a super actor and mimic. He came and we (all those who didn’t see the movie) begged him to tell us the story of the flick. What followed made me laugh so hard that I fell on the floor from my chair. Bhai started to talk in afghani, as in the movie, and made so much fun of the movie with the occasional swearing of the movie and fardeen. Awesome. Still remember that night.

It’s been a wonderful journey of 7 years with bhai. The complex and never ending issue of father and son relationship with Ankit was a story in its own in Kota and we all would love to discover the conclusion of it before we die. My spirit will not rest until I know the answer to it.

His love affair with Anchal is something that cannot be discussed here. For details call him personally, but at our own risk. And please be careful. Don’t tread the forbidden path.

Bless us bhai. May your hand be always on my head.

HARE RAM, HARE GRAM

2009-03-14T09:15:00.002+05:30

On popular demand:

Hare Ram Sharma

I am so going to rot in hell. I mean look at the guy’s name. “Hare Ram” look up his brother’s name. “Hare Krishna”. I mean isn’t it obvious that if I make fun of someone of this devotional stature I would go to hell. God have mercy on my poor soul.

This dude had his bed next to me in yoga dham. So I kind of saw this unique creation of god from very close quarters. Everyday we would come across certain new features, new qualities, but the same character.

There are few things that come to my mind as soon as his name is mentioned.

He used to redefine the levels of “gawarpani” on a daily basis. I mean come on man. Who cares about the number of “fans” you have in your orkut account?

This is a very interesting conversation that a certain Mr. S (I cannot mention his name for confidentiality issues) had with Mr. Hare Ram. Following is the excerpts from the conversation.

Mr. S: Hare Ram, how have you been?

Hare ram: I am good. How have you been? Don’t see you or orkut these days as well.

Mr. S: Yeah I have been kind of busy lately. You seem to be on orkut a lot these days. How is college?

Hare ram: Yeah. And you know what? I have 25 fans (not sure of the number) on orkut. How many you have?

Mr. X: come on man. Who cares about the fans?

Hare ram: I do. Everyone does. You don’t have those many. Ha ha ha

Mr. X: Shut up. Your favorite color is yellow, your favorite food is omlette and your favorite actor is Govinda. Don’t you dare call me anything. Gawar!

When I came across this, I could not stop laughing.

His favorite sport is still high jump. Used to be really good at it. Still wears his glasses when he is jumping.

And I guess even today, when he gets up in the class to answer some question, or when the teacher asks him to get up, he still brushes the grass of his ass. We never understood why he always did it but it was one of those rare times where the whole class used to turn around and look at him whenever he had to get up.

The Sharma part of his persona used to come out in full colors when he used to sleep. With one of his hand covering his face, he had a signature style of his own. We used to tell him “Hare Ram, itna sharma ke mat soo”. A certain Mr. P used to be really on his ass on this issue. Was awesome fun

Whatever said, Hare ram was a lot of fun. Today whenever we sit and talk, his name always comes up and we have a good laugh over it.

God bless you man. Or may you bless us all.

Cheers.

DEBU

2009-03-14T09:14:00.001+05:30

DEBAYAN

I actually do not know why I have started with him. It’s like I do not have control over my hands anymore. The brain is being controlled by some superpower. Maybe I am being controlled by a Divine force. The Divine force of Debayan. it has come true. i did predict that amongst the whole 69 of us, if there was a saintly soul, above the worldly bondages, at par with swamiji himself, someone our kids would pray to, someone who will save humanity, it would be DEBAYAN. He has today asked me to serve him by propagating his name far and wide and i will do that till my last breath.

i imagine myself 40, 50 years down the line, when i have nothing better to do than sit and talk to people the whole day, proudly gleaming, boasting that i had studied in the same school as His Holiness Debayan. People would flock to me; beg me to tell them more about their favorite God.

I would tell them that we were in the same Dham, same room with 6 others, and his bed mere inches away from mine. He would get up everyday and pretend to study when in fact he was sleeping all the time and trying to be subtle about it. He would at least put a quarter litre of oil in this flowing hair and then spend at least 3 hours, not continuous, in front of the mirror with a comb in his hand. He would then allow us to touch his feet and bless us. Ah, what joy we would experience.

In the prayer hall, where we used to go every 12 hours, dressed up in dhoti and kurta, Debayan would be look his Godly best. He would then elevate to a state of trance, spend hours together, only to realise that he his late for the morning drill or the evening study. We would try to wake him up from his state of trance but he would be lost like a kid in its favorite toy shop.

i have so much to share about him but i guess some of his actions, ideas, ways are beyond the realm of my understanding. i believe that i am just divinely lucky to have him in my life. Jai debayan.

The Topic

2009-03-05T14:53:00.002+05:30

I believe I have a power. A unique kind. I can read people, their reactions, their faces, their emotions etc. better than others. You can label me psychic in some ways. But I strongly believe that I have this is me. Till date no one has been able to shake that off me.

As a result of my inherent quality, my evaluation and judgement of someone is better and far more accurate. History has it, and my friends can vouch for it, that I have made certain very accurate prediction of people.

So most of my blogs would only be of people that I know, that I have shared time and space with, that have affected me in some way or the other.

Now that i have laid such a framework of my skills, it gets rather difficult for me to decide whom should i write about first. i have take into account my favorite friends, my sworn enemies and their girl friends, my teachers, my colleagues and many more. i can take a suggestion or two from you. you may fall into my good books if you can suggest something good. now that's something you really want to do. So let me know.

You guys are worse. I thought someone would suggest something. But I guess I will have to do this impossible task of choosing whom to write about.

And when I think of whom to write about, the basic idea becomes clear to me.

We write about people whom we shared the best or worst of times with, who move us the most, who care for us the most, who actually helped us when we needed it... I believe my favourite memories and of Vidyapith. Don't have a clue as to where and how would have I been had I not spent 5 years there. Changed my life completely. Transformed me in all possible meanings of the word.

So I believe it is only fair that I write about my Vidyapith friends, classmates, anecdotes.

N.B. I write with a comic touch. Please do not get offended. In case you feel bad take a print out of my face and practice darts on it. It helps. Therapeutic.

Inspiration

2009-03-05T14:19:00.000+05:30

"Cannot do it. Is very boring and needs a lot of time"

This was my first reaction when someone suggested me start blogging. I could not see why I should blog. I mean this thing could not be any more useful that watching the TV whole day. I could satisfy my mind that I was doing better, wasting my time the whole day, then doing something creative and useful.

And I guess that this is one of the reasons why I have decided to give this baby a try. Sitting in front of the laptop, when I have no surveys to attend, I feel exhausted doing nothing. why not start writing. This way I think I am utilising my time and my boss thinks that I am doing something good. But he will figure it out soon enough. What the hell man, who cares about him anyways.

I would like to dedicate this inspiration to two people.

First would certainly be Parivesh. I mean that guy creates magic with his words. Dude you don't know the potential you have with writing. Physics is a waste of time man.

Second would be Nandy. He gave me the idea of what to write.

Thanks to you guys.

I hope I can continue writing. Although I don't see a lot of conviction when I think of something like that. But lets see. Whats the harm in trying.