I am so fucking jealous!

I am so jealous of your pretty face, of the perfect way you put your eyeliner, of your lipstick shade,of your ear rings and your bangles, of your body, of your amazing dressing sense. I am so jealous of your photographs on facebook, of beautiful places and beautiful people, of your bike rides, video diaries, your successful travel plans. I am so jealous, not the right kind, not as a compliment – when your plane lands in the different continents of the world, when you attend those amazing concerts of your favorite bands,when my mom speaks so highly of you, when she tells me how brilliant you are, how you have made so much of your life, how your salary is simply unimaginable, how your future is even brighter than the sun in my dull world. I am so jealous, so fucking ridiculously jealous of how talented you are, of your stories, of your films, of your blogs, of your voice, of your sense of humor, of the perfect way you speak and sing. I am so jealous when you tell me how you drowned in alcohol the other day, of your wild nights, of your wild affairs, of the way your lover looks at you, the way you hold each other’s hands, the way you have fallen in love. I am so jealous of the way you draw, the way you submerge in it, the way you breath in colours and fill life in them. I am jealous of the way you can act and the beautiful way you can dance. I am so terribly jealous when you crack that joke among my friends and everybody loses their shit laughing at it, of how you handle attention, of how you meet their gaze, of how you are wanted. I am so jealous of the loving way you eat, of the smart comments you make, of how you seem to know everything about everything, of your maturity, of how confident you seem, how amazingly you handle yourself, how insecurity doesn’t seem to be even a mile close to you. I am so jealous of the fact that you can cook, of how organized you are, of how peaceful and calm you seem all the time. I can’t help but be jealous when I think of your disciplined life, your determination to chase your dreams and your ambitions. I am so jealous of how you are brimming with traits that I will never have! I am so jealous of how you are better at using all the qualities of mine that I find in you! I am so jealous of how amazing your life seem to me.I am jealous. Honestly, I am. Your brilliant achievements, your intelligence, of everything you will do and you do and I won’t and I don’t.

But even after all this how come we are heading in the same direction? Even after all this how come you are jealous of me? When it is so apparent that your life is much better than mine, how come we are equally destitute? You know that rubs ice on my burns but what is the use if I am thrown in the same road even after I get to be you, even after I trade your tomorrows with mine. What’s the point of this jealousy then?

What’s the point?

And yet…

To April, among other things

It’s hot now. I smell dust and deodorant covered sweat in the air. I smell cigarettes and mint. I smell tea and something sad in the irrelevant office gossips & back bitching. I smell my own selfishness and stupidity. My heart stinks. My safety shoes stink as well and so do my feet. My office Canteen has a distinct smell of its own. Anyway, it’s chole again. I smell Aluzinc in my hands, so I wash them. Now, they reek of dettol. Also,Quarter one has  ended, it smells of missed targets and unacheived goals. But anyway, Second quarter has begun and it smells of April!
We get that your olfactory senses have heightened tremendously turquoise ink, but what does April smell like?

April. Well, April reeks of nostalgia, of the fresh pages of my new textbooks,
of the benches of my new class, of the perfume of my new class teacher, of the shining new brown cover of my notebooks, of new pens and pencils, of ink, of erasers with perfect edges, of my polished shining shoes, of fresh cut grass of the playground, of my friend’s lunchboxes that I had longed for almost a month now, of my own lunchboxes, of the beautiful blooming trees of Amaltas and Gulmohar, of mangoes, of my newly stitched Prussian blue skirt and clean ironed white shirt, of lame April fool jokes, of my new crush, of the fevicol we use in SUPW class which never happens again through out the rest of the year, of recess, of the carpet of my music class, of my new sketchbook, of my class’s notice board that needs to be decorated with new works of art, of my perfect little alum crystals, of the first poem of Hindi textbook and the first English story by Ruskin Bond, of the excitement running through my arteries that I am trying not to show too much and my unsuccessful desire to make the new year go perfectly.

That’s how April smells to me. Oddly and sadly perfect.

Hasta la vista Losers!

So, it has finally happened. The thing that I have been waiting for since the last four years is right there in the palm of my hands ready to be pocketed. Thing I have hated from the bottom of my heart is ultimately vanishing. And all I am going to be left with are some memories which are going to grow fewer and more rare with each passing day. Isn’t it amazing?

Isn’t it?



It’s not fair how the most awaited thing of your life ends up disappointing you. While my heart should have been jumping up and down, whooping with ecstasy, it is growing heavier with every breath I take. I don’t get it. The insides of my heart are becoming more or less like a dam blocking the whole reservoir of emotions from flooding my entire body. It’s raining and raining and I know someday, I am going to drown in this inevitable inundation of feelings.

What am I going to miss?

Friends? Classes? Funny teaching assistants?  Practical labs? Canteen?  So much vella time? What?

It’s not done brain!  I thought we agreed that none of us are going to grow sentimental about this. I thought we had a deal. Why the fuck are you breaking it?

But don’t you see, turquoise ink!” says my brain in an attempt to defend himself, “that in these years of stagnancy, ironically, so many things have changed! Look at you! Look at me! Look at the memories we have made! I am not doing this intentionally! Damn it! I am not deceiving you! I am just so helpless.

Huh. Traitor.


What do I say? What do I write?

I am tired. I am tired. I am tired of growing and I want to revert it back. I am tired of struggling to swim across my emotions. I am tired of happiness. I am tired of hope. And I am tired of anticipating the unknown. You wanted my naked emotions? Here they are! I am scared shitless. And I want it all to stop. You wanted me to be despondent. Look here I am heart! Morose. Pessimistic. Hopeless. In a weird state of mind where the right words are just not coming out.

How do I say how do I feel?  Sadness has always rendered me speechless and in an acute awareness of the fact that my vocabulary isn’t good.

One might expect me to write an ode to these four years. But I can’t do it. There is no ode. There is no symphony. There are no lyrics or music.  All I have is an ugly mixture of  chaos, confusion, disappointment, anxiety, panic attacks, happiness, late night rainfalls of tears, lots of laughter, lots of irrelevant knowledge, a little of relevant knowledge, infinite sleepless nights, loads of hung-over afternoons, memories of unplanned trips, memories of planned trips, some unforgettable dialogues, some unforgettable quotes from late night conversations, the pleasure of watching some of  the most amazing movies for the first time, some deeply embedded tunes of most beautiful songs, some of the funniest live actions, awareness of individualism,  starvation for freedom, haunting questions, philosophical discussions, falling in love, getting heartbroken, realizing the dreams, un-realizing the dreams, change of perception, consistency of soul, realization of friendship, realization of connection, anger outbursts, a little of regret, a little of hope, a little of fear and a lot of lessons that I am not even aware that I have learnt. I have found beauty in the ugliness. How do I describe it all in a bunch of fucking rhyming words?

How do I do it?

Self absorbed as I am, I think I am sinking in the pool of my own reflections. While I have tried my best to spread the happiness around me wherever I am, what have I done to myself?  While I have been such a loud advocate of “living in the moment” kind of lifestyle, why am I lagging behind the time? While I have such casually cried out loud “no regrets”, what have I been repenting?

So detached and yet so adhered.

And here I thought college was just about some fun studying, a bit of partying and eventual career building. Huh! I don’t need to know how wrong I had been.

This could have been a gratitude letter for my friends. But they already know that I am thankful to them. They already know that I love them. Fuck gratitude letter. Fuck “I am going to miss these days” pieces of sentimental crap. You say “These were the best days you were ever going to have” So what are you implying?  I should just die now? Since the best is over?  What we ignore about the “end” is that though it is one distasteful concoction of lasts, it is also a gateway to the more exciting blend of “firsts”.

“But still”, you would argue, “it is a little sad, don’t you think?” Well, of course it is! I am going to miss it, yes. The people I have met, the things I have done.  It’s been marvelous.We have all touched each other’s lives in such a delicately beautiful manner that it’s really hard to believe these connections exist for real.I could have made this all about them but I don’t want to ignore this person I know. I do not want her to make false assumption that her life is over. And I am extremely sensitive about her because I know. I know how hard it is for her to walk through life. I know how she struggles. I know how things haven’t been perfect for her, and that’s why this is my earnest effort to let her know that it is okay. And if there is nobody else to tell you this, then you should know that I am here, inside your fucking head to tell you that you are one crazy person to live with but dude! I am stuck with you so I am going to be there for you anyway. And whenever you are going to shatter apart into million pieces again, I will pick each one of them every time and you would never be alone even if you are alone.

There!  That is the college ending gift for you, turquoise ink. You- yourself. Be whoever you want to be.

You fear that you are going to screw up big time with this big responsibility. Then, be it. Screw it all up. I don’t care. We will find something amazing anyway.

Don’t have faith; don’t have hope, fuck it. Don’t have anything. Be as much as the sentimental assholic drama queen as you can be, but I am going to live with you and pick you up and drag you to our land of dreams anyway.

Four years, and I realize that I am not an engineer after all. But instead I have realized that I am an individual. And considering the fact that some people don’t get that for their whole lives, I think I have done pretty good.

Signing off as self absorbed as I can be, getting sentimental for all the peculiar reasons, bidding adieu to college yelling – Ghanta engineering!
Hasta La vista Losers!

Love and lots of Gandugiri,

Grieve no more, oh heart!

Sometimes I lay under the night, gaze upon a star,
Conceal a forgotten past, grieve upon a scar,
Some mistakes were made, not so cruel, not too intense,
But in arrogance and ignorance, that remain too huge to make a sense.

The footprints of those missteps, lay buried under time,
Too distant, too deep, unlikely to be exposed,
But what about the heart that stay frozen under guilt?
Will I recover? Will I forget? Will my shattered heart be rebuilt?

“Grieve no more, oh heart! Don’t let yourself be burnt,
Some mistakes have to be made, some lessons have to be learnt,
Some decisions, some choices are meant to leave you contrite,
Because unless you know what’s wrong, how will you know what’s right?”


Finally home!

So, here lies the answer of how we finally got home.

A little precap;

Last time you checked we had landed on the Vadodara station. Our tiring journey from Delhi to Vadodara had finally come to an end.

(^To know more details you can read this- What the hell is she talking about?)

But the movie had not ended.

Our destination was Surat, not Vadodara.

We had this general ticket. And even though it takes just about two hours to reach Baroda by train, the prospect of getting into the heavily crowded bogie with our heavy luggage was giving us goose flesh.

But quite bravely, first we did try to sit in a general bogie.

However, the bogie we considered as general was not really general. It was reserved for army and people related to army.

So, when we tried to get in, we were, in simple words, thrown out.

Three individuals who looked hopelessly tired and worn out in every freaking possible way and all these “army” people had got to say was- “Get out off our bogie!”

What kind of army were they if they couldn’t help out a fellow civilian!

Shame on them!

But god was smiling on us from above.

A much more comfortable journey was waiting for us.

And I am glad that we didn’t get into that bogie. Those army people can go fuck themselves ( I have never said this before but I think I will mention it once hoping that it would be enough for all my previous and upcoming posts- “Pardon my language. I swear a little when I write but I can’t help it. )

So, the train we had almost boarded departed. But there was another train that was about to depart soon. What we did was -we sort of bribed the TT, requested him to give us seats if they were available. (We here mostly consists of my brother and sister, I was just a silent spectator the whole time)

As it turned out, the seats were indeed available. And we got to travel the ending two hours of our journey breathing the cool conditioned air.

Of course, we had to pay for that but okay we were happy.

Money CAN buy happiness. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

So, this was how the battle ended and a new era had begun in my life. New era is not an exaggeration or just something that I used as a comic literary tool. No, I meant it.

The train journeys will never be the same again.

The Patna City will be never be the same again.

My sister’s life (and mine and my whole family’s life as well) will never be the same again.

It is indeed the dawn of a new era.

And adding cherries on the top is this year…

This year; Oh! It has been a mother of changes! And not just this year, my whole college life (so far) has been dynamic in a way I had never imagined it to be. Of course, I had dreamed of a huge, humungous group of cool kids that I would hang out with. A trip every weekend or every month. Party every night. Amazing hostel life. Countless love affairs. (Oh! why not confess it?) And even with all that I would somehow, be a good student with a future (as bright as sun) as a good engineer.

None of that shit happened.

None of that shit is going to happen.

What happened instead was something I could have never seen coming.

People changed, Circumstances changed, Thoughts changed, Dreams changed, Beliefs changed.

And I never got to be cool.

I never got to be smart.

I never got to be a hero. (I never wanted to anyway)

I never got to be a bitch. (I badly wanted to be a bitch. Being bad is so cool!)

I never got to be what I wanted to be.

But what I got to be is someone whom I had never imagined before;


Who would have thought?

Ask the 5 year old me about how I see my life fifteen years later and you will know the difference.

And that five year old me is sitting right next to me asking- Who are you?

They are not kidding when they say that college is all about discovering yourself. Three years and I already do not recognize myself.

I have finally discovered it.

I have been too busy screaming sitting on the roller-coaster rides to realize that what I have wanted all along is something quite different from what I wanted myself to want. Who would have thought?

And that is why a new era has begun.

An era wherein I am not somebody’s daughter, not somebody’s sister, not somebody’s student, not somebody’s friend, not somebody’s “utopian vision” but me.

But me.

I hear some of my friends telling me their amazing tales of their awesome happening college life. Until now I was envious as I had found mine quite boring and dull and undesired. But not anymore. My life is not stagnant. It’s always changing.

It’s ALWAYS changing.

I have wasted too much of time not realizing that.

So, here comes a new sun. A sun filled with hope, with new dreams and a new life.

And a new era dawns in my life.

If you have been traveling pretty much the same path as mine then I suggest that you stop now and look back. I hope you will see the things that I have seen.

I hope you see the five year old you standing there barely recognizing you.

Talk to him. Listen to him and you will know the difference.


Anyhow, I was finally in Surat I guess. And the Patna chronicles, hereby, ends.

Of course, there should a special edition covering my sister’s wedding out pretty soon. But I can’t say. I don’t usually get to know the stuff I am going to write about until I am writing it. And when occasionally I do, I don’t write it at all.

So, would I really be writing the tale of my sister’s wedding?

We will find out later.

Anyway, back at the topic of my return journey.

The term battle is undoubtedly a little exaggerated for that but traveling such long distances in India is indeed a very painful task.

And it might not be a battle but it is close enough. Therefore, when we finally reached home I did find my inner peace.

Of course, it got lost again pretty soon.

But it was good to be back home.

It is good to be back home.

Though it is a completely different story that now I am pushed into another battle ground but I think that’s just life and the point is -this story has come to an end.

The conclusion being; my vacation has been quite memorable. How about yours?

Signing off,



The general bogie

So, now we are in Delhi. And quite far away from Patna but the ghosts haven’t left us alone. We have missed our train. And we need to reach Surat.

But how?

Well, here’s how…

The general Bogie tragedy


Since getting an AC/ sleeper bogie train ticket a day before is as good as winning a lottery in India, we know that our journey can’t possibly be comfortable.

That’s another Impossible that doesn’t say I’m possible.

We could go by flight but then that would have led us to Bankruptcy.

So, here’s what we do; we decide to go by general bogie. If you are an Indian, then this statement would have brought tears in your eyes. And if they haven’t then your heart is made of stone.

Fourteen hours journey in a general bogie; Oh! My sad little life.

But by this time god has softened a bit on us. When we boarded the train at New Delhi Station, it was pretty much empty and we got seats quite easily.

But General Bogie is so crowded that even if you are sitting comfortably on the seat, you can’t really be comfortable. And then there is always that one person around you who would make you consider the possibility of jumping off the train immediately over and over again.

And in our case, we had many.

  • You-mess-with-us and you-are-dead family

These were a bunch of small vendors. They shipped goods from Delhi to Goa and sold it there. And hence they had a lot of luggage.

They entered the train and almost immediately we hear the heated altercation between the “meals on wheels” food vendor and them which was pretty much regarding their heavy luggage.

The meals guy wanted space for his own items and this luggage family were adamant to make a deal mostly because;

A. They couldn’t. They had so much luggage that even after stuffing them under the seats of various compartments ( wherever there was space) and filling up the whole entrance area, one could find the toilet door jammed with their remaining items.

B.They liked quarreling. They just did.


  • I-would-make-your-ears-bleed woman.

This woman had a valid point in getting heated by the way the other woman beside her was sleeping. But what made this woman irritating was that she kept shouting and cursing even after the matter was long gone resolved.

She wouldn’t just shut up.


These are the most common kind of people you find in a general bogie. On their defense, I would just like to say that maybe they lose it because they must be pretty darn tired and irritated.


But then, these people are the exact reason why the other people around get pretty darn irritated and tired.


  • I-would-marry-the-seat guy

I have seen people quarreling over seats before but this person, Oh! he takes it to another level. Not only did he quarrel over  the seat, he also sat on the children who were sitting on the seat he wanted. He gets slapped, he gets cursed at but no! Nothing can stop him from getting that seat.


Ultimately, I think another guy offered him his seat and the matter got settled but the Academy award winning scene he created is going to stay on my mind forever.


From the early morning to the night, we kept sitting and sitting and sitting.

The hot winds continued to kiss our faces but what could we possibly do to stop it? Our skin was covered by thick layer of dust and sweat. We were hungry and thirsty and so freaking tired. We had spent our whole previous night on the station. I did not even have a novel that could give me refuge in its arms. I had already read the two novels that I had brought.

Traveling in train (that too in general bogie) is adventure in its own. And I don’t think I remember the numerous times I have travelled in AC bogies but I am going to remember this journey.

India is a huge country. And traveling from one place to another has always been quite a problematic issue. You want comfort, then you gotta loosen your pockets. You want to save money, you gotta loose comfort. The number of passengers is augmenting day by day. The number of trains we have is not enough.

And still somehow, Indian railways always manage to be at loss. The prices of the train tickets get hiked every year and traveling becomes costlier and costlier.

And I have no idea why I am writing all this.

My point being; I had a painful journey back home.

And it wasn’t over yet.

The train we boarded did not have a stoppage at Surat. And so we had this task of boarding another train from Vadodara to Surat.

And most probably again in general bogie.

And this time we knew that we wouldn’t find a single seat to sit. And with the kind of luggage we had, it could prove fatal.

So, did we make it to our home alive?

To find out whether I am writing this from heaven or not, you can read –

Patna Chronicles;Dawn of a new era -The fourth and the final part of Patna Chronicles series.


P.S.The general bogie tragedy has nothing to do with Patna but I still connect the city to it because if our train hadn’t got late then we would have had a comfortable journey back to home.

Confessions of a little sister

Disclaimer; This is a continuation of Patna chronicles; the battle begins

The pre-battle scenario was pretty much the same as it always is. There was sadness, sorrow. People wanted to escape and the battle seemed inevitable. But here is how the brave ones live; they would rather embrace death than live in misery.

Of course, the people, the misery, the sorrow all rested in the heart of a woebegone individual that I would refer as “me”.

But what had made this person miserable?

Her sister’s marriage.

Maybe partly she was sad because the festive fragrance in the air had gone and her normal life was going to be back on track.

Maybe she was sad because Patna might have made her miss Surat but the truth was Surat was all set to haunt her even more. (The college, the studies, the career and Oh! her sad little confused mind! All were waiting for her back in her home)

But mostly she was sad because she missed her sister very badly.

So much that her heart ached just by hearing her name.

But what had led to this sudden missing thingy?

Her sister had not been living with her for quite some time. And the sometime here means years. She had never missed her sister so badly before (except when she left home for the first time). So, why now?

Why now?


Because all these years, she had known that her sister was her sister. She will go away and she will always come back home.

And now suddenly her sister was somebody’s wife. She will go away and she might not come back home.

I wish she could explain what vast difference these two sentences made but she can’t.

I think she lacks appropriate words to describe and more importantly she lacks a little freedom of speech here.

(^For the uncensored version, read her personal diary. But since that is not quite feasible so we would just leave it a mystery)

The pre-battle scenario was pretty much a mysterious blend of tears of joys and sorrows. Since my joy retention capability sucked in a most pathetic way, all I was left with was sadness.

And I confess my heart was aching. I confess my eyes were swollen because of crying every night. I wanted to shout at some people. I wanted to curse them in the most merciless way. But I couldn’t.

Sadness is an odd mixture of anger and sorrow. Two of the most powerful emotions in the world.

The question of how a simple amateur emotion like happiness combats with these two is something that I will never be able to understand.

It somehow reminds me of the famous Hollywood movie – Baby’s day out.

But anyway, has anyone ever been able to prevent the inevitable?

And I am sure my heart was, in fact, is exaggerating the situation. Marriage is a happy thing! Heart! Stop being such a party pooper!


Oh! Heart! Silently swallow your pain, don’t let it show again!

Eyes have swelled and weakened, don’t let them rain again!

I am sure hope stays nearby! He will buy you a smile,

Till then have a fake one! I am sure it will last some miles.


I know you won’t believe but what could have been done?

How in hell, in the midnight, could you bring up the sun?

And the night is not that dark, see how the stars shine?

So, sit here, shut your mouth, don’t let me hear you whine!


I am sure Optimism is busy, got her kids to drop to school,

But heart! She is our neighbor; she will come back soon,

And I know Hope is a loner, wanders from streets to streets,

But being the foodie that he is, he will come back to eat!

And love never dies, the eldest vampire we know,

With the constant need of blood you pump where else can he go?

So, what is it you fear, bud? They all are there with you,

It’s a bright sunny day out here, don’t sit back there in blue…


And with that Signing off,


P.S. To read the next part of this series, you may click here; Patna Chronicles- the battle continues

Patna, the Hotel California

If this has got you thinking in any way that I am going to compare Bihar with California, then just grab a gun and kill me. Ping me on facebook and I will give you my full address and the right time when you can break into my house and do the honors. I will leave the doors open. And my last wish probably will be to let me listen to Coldplay. Any of their songs will do, but if you play the songs of Ghost stories then I will be grateful (I haven’t got enough of that album).

But apart from discussing my murder and last wishes plans, I have a lot to tell you and one blog post is not going to be enough. So, this is part one of my PATNA CHRONICLES series – PATNA CHRONICLES; The battle begins. And it is going to about (as the title suggests) this city named Patna.

So, lets get started!

Patna is one of the most ancient cities of India and it is a great city to remember but for all the wrong reasons…
Which, by the way, are…

What gives me right to bitch about this city is the fact that I have been there and secretly found it amazing as well. Non-Biharis and Biharis but Never-been-to-Bihar Biharis are, in my opinion, simply not eligible to comment about this state. And the reason behind this is that their opinions are quite ridiculously based on stereotypes and their own imaginations.So, if this post hurts anyone in anyway (which I don’t think it should) then, don’t spit on me and show me how dearly you love your motherland. We are on the same page; I am just a little less of a patriot. But I love this place in my own way.)

Patna and the traffic tragedy

We have got a train that departs at seven in the evening and we reached Patna at around 3.
Well, we ALMOST reached Patna around three.
Oh! The difference one small little word can make!
Patna has been blessed by the great river -Ganga. It embraces it like a mother meeting her son after a long long time. And who wouldn’t appreciate that! This river pumps blood into this city. But this great river has a great bridge over it named Gandhi Setu. And this bridge, built over one of the greatest rivers of the world, sadly is the greatest tragedy that could ever befall on the face of humanity.

It was designed by the same person who built Guantanamo Bay.

I am telling you, it is indeed that torturous.We were stuck there for three freaking hours and that too because we were in luck. I am not afraid of death anymore but I am afraid of bad luck. Because if good luck means those three and the half hours then I can’t even imagine what  bad luck can be!

When I called Gandhi Setu Bridge great, I wasn’t just using the adjective as sarcasm. It once indeed used to be the longest bridge in Asia. It is 5.5 km long! You don’t come across a bridge this long quite often! Though yes, nowadays, it suffers through a horrible fate. It is supposed to be a two way bridge and at some point it cease to be one because you know one of its incoming lane is a little broken. And by a little broken, I mean like a whole part of bridge is missing there. And that is where the tragedy befalls. Obviously.

The two way becomes one way. And what we see all the time is a huge, huge traffic Jam.

I have grown up in a city of flyovers and broad roads. I had never known in my life what real traffic jam was. And now do I not know it!
Traffic and roads are one of the major problems in Patna. Not just in Patna, but in whole Bihar. Roads are the lifelines of economy.

A city needs good roads.
A village needs good roads.
A village and a city need a good road in between them. That is an absolute necessity.
Unless and until a good network of roads exists how a state can ever make progress!

In Bihar you don’t need to look out for thieves or murderers or any other criminals. These are not the real threat. In Bihar people can be quite friendly and polite. And the probability is quite high that they will treat you good. What you really need to fear once you come here is; Means of transport. The time ceases to exist here. Minutes will turn into hours.

An hour journey could be quadrupled. And that is quite normal. You may not come here with money but you have to come here with a lot of time.

The traffic tragedy on Gandhi Setu Bridge is an everyday issue. And it will continue to be one until it is repaired or the other bridge is completed. Till then every time you happen to cross Gandhi Setu, I just hope you are not in car but just taking a casual walk. But of course, if you are sitting inside a well air conditioned car and have your IPods on then you are good to go. In my case the situation was not exactly the same so yeah, the very name of the bridge still brings me nightmares.

To conclude-In the end, we had to throw ourselves out of the car, grab our stuff, go down and walk over to the other road and catch an auto.

Patna; The traffic tragedy returns

So, okay its 6:50 already and our train is set to depart on 7:15.
We have left the car and we are inside an auto.And guess what follows us here as well!

The Traffic!

Of course, the traffic didn’t end at the Gandhi Setu Bridge.

Its vicious web was spread all over the city. We are running and running but Oh! In a web spun so well how could you ever escape!The adrenaline level has started to get a little high inside our bodies but the traffic continues to torture us very much like the way Bellatrix tortured Hermione. Only this time there were no forbidden spells but sweet symphony of Horns and fragrance of Carbon mono/dioxide.
We are silently praying and though the traffic continues to give us whiplashes, I still know that somehow we will make it to station in time. Some things you just know.

And hell, did we not MAKE IT IN TIME!

Patna; The traffic tragedy v/s The train tragedy

As it turned out, we did not just make it in time; we made it too early in time!
When we reached the station, a pleasant surprise was waiting right there with its arm wide open, ready to greet us with a compassionate irony and sarcasm.
Our train was five freaking hours late.
And that is how fate makes fun of you. The bloody bullies.
The train tragedy in Bihar is ancient.
It’s the heart and soul of Bihar.
You boarded a train and it wasn’t even a single freaking hour late?
Then your “here” is not Bihar Dude! There is no way it could be Bihar! That is one impossible that can never say I’m possible.
So, the list of what you should look out for in Bihar is updated with one more thing;
Trains! They will make fun of your watches in such a horrible way that your watch will commit suicide.
(For the college freshman who happens to read this; you ask what Ragging is. ^That my friend is the ragging which should be illegal.)
And even though we made it to a happy ending, in the end, it turned to be a tragic one anyway.

Patna: The Traffic Tragedy just got served and the train tragedy rules all over the Bihar.

So, we have to reach Surat from Patna. But we don’t have a direct train. We have to go Delhi from Patna. And from Delhi we were supposed to board another train to Surat.
There was eight hour margin between the two trains and we had thought that that would be quite sufficient.
But fate was rolling on the floor laughing at us.
Our Patna to Delhi train was already five hours late. But we had hoped that it will cover during the night because trains like Gareeb rath get preferences and generally they are not delayed.
And even if they are, it is never more than two or three hours.
But of course, we were proved wrong.
In the end, our train wasn’t just 5 hours late, it was 12 fucking hours late.
12 hours!

T-W-E-L-V-E H-O-U-R-S!

While booking the tickets, could anyone see that coming?
Can anyone?
But, oh, yes, you can. When you are talking about Bihar, you totally can. And now I have learnt that quite remarkably well.
So, we couldn’t board on our Delhi to Surat train, because at the time it departed, our train was cradling us in a most torturous way far far away.
So, you might ask at this point that how did I get to Surat ultimately?

Well, that’s another story that deserves another blog post and here it is to quench your curiosity; Patna Chronicles-the battle continues.

Till then let’s end it here and end it like old times.

And by old times, I mean this-
So, kids what was the moral of this story?
The moral of the story was-
Patna is a sweet little Hotel California.
“You can check in anytime you want but you can never leave”   

And if you do try to check out, then ghosts follow you and haunt you until you are shit scared and shit tired and you are crying your heart out- “ I JUST WANT TO GET HOME!! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Trust me, I have seen those ghosts.

P.S. To read the next part of the series you may click here; Patna chronicles-the pre-battle scenario.

A little

When there’s nothing you can do but beg a little,
not for money, not for fame, not for love, and for pain,
but for the unbinding confusion that rests in your mind,
And you try to clear it out but there’s nothing you can find.

When there’s nothing you can do but weep a little,
exposing the tears that come right from the heart.
spending the dark nights with swollen wet eyes,
possessing an obsidian smile covered with fake sweet lies.

When there’s nothing you can do but laugh a little,
covering the deep core wounds, that rest in your heart,
when the whole world rush and you stand alone
expecting some peace, some of your answers, but still those remain completely unknown.

When there’s nothing you can do but share a little.
with whom you wonder and how you think
and your heart continues to bleed, you know you can’t hold
you turn to yourself,you pour them out,just to yourself, just to your soul.

When there’s nothing you can do but pray a little
every time, everywhere, when you ask how to smile,
in the darkest corner of nights, when your state is fragile,
in the complete endless blankness when your mind has no word,
and when the faint voice of your conscience echoes unheard,
when you stand alone on the road, fighting in the night,
when you make futile efforts, that deepen your plight,
sit for a while, rest in quiet.
What can you do when you don’t know what’s right?

The art of procrastination

There are many things that exist in my priority lists almost every day. Completing assignments, reading ‘word power made easy’, going through the notes of power system analysis and reading the chapter from the textbook ( Pointers! Pointers! You need to improve those petty little single digit horrible things!) Et cetera, et cetera. And somewhere down my lists, not even mentioned in words, there exists a very insignificant task. And I end up doing exactly that throughout the day. Why?

Why do I do this every single time?

Well, here’s why: I procrastinate. I prefer sharpening pencils rather than making notes with them. I prefer going out to buy mechanical pencils if sharpening the pencils are my top priority tasks. I would type an essay on why 0.5mm pencil lead sucks if writing with mechanical pencil is the most important task I need to do. And I will read a novel if I am asked to write an essay. And I will watch a movie if I am asked to read a novel. I will sleep if I am asked to watch a movie. But I would never ever do what needs to be done. If your life is going along the same track, then hi-five! Bud! We have got something in common. We are “procrastinanians”. We worship the goddess of procrastination.

But being the way we are is not easy. Remember those depression and self detesting attacks?

Why did I ever ever change my religion to procrastinism. This sucks! My life sucks! OMG! Get me cyanide, will you? Or wait, which is the tallest building in the city? God, I hate my life! I hate myself!

Sometimes these attacks are so severe that I really begin to wonder if I need some serious strong anti-depressant medicines. But the fact is – this depression is unnecessary. Yes, if I were a non-procrastinator perhaps my life would have been better. But twenty years of my life have made me realize that non-procrastinators are especially designed in a separate lab of heaven where most brilliant and geeky of gods and goddesses design the brain of human together. Not everybody gets to be product of that lab. It is reserved for special ones. And I am not the special one. I was genetically engineered to be a procrastinator in a much bigger and less exclusive lab.

But here’s another fact for all the depressed ones out there, this situation is not as incorrigible as you think. Procrastination is not that unproductive as you believe it to be. I am writing this article during my Power electronics lecture. And I don’t think I am doing something for which I should jump off a building. If I had not been a procrastinator I would have never done this. And this article would never have come into existence. Did I do something unproductive? No. I did something that was not important according to me. But I had to get this article done. And I am getting it done. God bless procrastination. I write for my blogs during my labs. I have completed many novels a day before exam. This is not un-productivity. This is running away (which is,well, not something to be proud of. But I don’t loathe myself for doing that). I do not mean to say it’s good. My point is- it’s not that bad. It would not fetch you pointers. It would not get you placed in Microsoft. I agree. But many times it makes you do things that you would have never done. In some cases it even makes you creative, or increase your general knowledge (I have spent infinite hours stumbling upon websites during exams). I do not think that it deserves to be the reason one should scold oneself to death. Procrastination doesn’t really mean sitting idle (being a “vegetable” is the appropriate term for that), it means doing less important things rather than the high priority tasks. That’s not good. But that’s not bad.

So, do try not to procrastinate much. It’s an old saying, and there is some sense and good advice in that. And if you have any success in doing that please let me know how you did it. (I beg you. I do need some help). But meanwhile, in case, you fail, do remember; life is still good. It’s cool. Light hai.