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The journey of a thousand miles invariably begins with me offering prayers to all my favourite gods, hoping that I would be blessed with a companion in the train (keywords: despo, cute chick). That Murphy invariably ends up having the last laugh is a different story altogether. As I set foot upon my beloved M-Land, that too a day before superstar’s birthday (Happy Birthday Thalaiva!), the sirs and madams of my alma mater are busy following the road oft taken determined to end up as corporate hooters. Having obtusely incremented my six month long wait by four more days, I was wondering whether the charm of “home” was totally lost on this thick skin. But then, in a truly ‘skies lighten, faces brighten’ feeling, the boyish grin returned to my face the moment I left the portals of Azad.

There is something special about the Tamilnadu Express that words cannot explain. As I stand on platform number seven, (make no mistake, the magically most powerful number and one-sixth of the answer) listening to middle aged women abusing their hubbies in chaste Madras Basha and the local tea vendors trying to explain to the hindi-uninitiated lot that the chai costs rupees six and not five, there pervades a feeling that Chennai would have been proud of. Nevertheless there are those ignominious moments when conversations with co-passengers get a little too personal, and family details start tumbling out. It is at times like these that I have regretted my inability to pose questions in the vein of “Where did you say your co-brother was working again?”, “Oh! Your third sister’s second husband is a divorcee?”. Reminds of the truck which had a “Mera Bharat Mahaan” sign placed just above another one which said “Highly Inflammable”.

I’ve always wondered as to how every moron under the sun gets his own journey with a UOR Alumni who subjects the aforementioned chap to a sermon on the glorious heritage of the institute. Indeed, these are mere euphemisms and literary devices, I surmised. Yet, when I got my own forty two seconds of fame, the experience turned out to be nothing short of disappointing. The gentleman across me, a pass-out of my own department, rather than regaling me with old wives’ tales seemed quite apologetic about the fact that he had not graduated from an institute with a tag as glorious as the one I would get my degree from. The sole consolation came in the form of an apparent affair that a revered professor indulged in, with his lady hailing from a department just opposite the computer centre.

The journey of a thousand miles ended with the train reaching the famed Chennai central two full hours behind schedule, putting an end to the clichéd saga. Offering a stark contrast to the desi-bound hero of many a tamil movie, I wasn’t greeted by the smell of fresh jasmine nor was it the scent of the morning idli that my olfactory lobes picked up. Instead it a heady smell of rotten fish and dung that pervaded the platform, perhaps reminiscent of the octant of my life that I had just bid farewell to. I had read earlier in a beautiful editorial by Dog Day Afternoon’s predecessor, a comparison of Roorkee to a story book that appeared besmirched on the surface but yet even the fine print grew on you as you moved past the introductions. Indeed, my own lovely chapter opening many new eyes and paths, left me with a bitter-sweet smile with its deplorable ending. As the process of reshuffling priorities gets underway, I once again take inspiration from a great man’s immortal words hoping that the remaining chapters of my red-bound story book have something more holistic to offer.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king

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Written by Chronoz

December 12, 2009 at 3:33 pm

Posted in General News

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What sweet dreams taste like

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Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a frigging big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of frigging fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the hell you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing frigging junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all,  pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, sucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got coffee?

Post: Yes, I am on a high. Two words, Saravana Bhawan.

Post-Post: This blog has a PG rating according to MPAA and hence the text-substitution

Written by Chronoz

October 11, 2009 at 4:01 pm

Posted in General News

Face Off!

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The world around is a large place, quite a large one infact…. And sometimes one finds it hard to keep in touch with the happenings of one’s own friends, leave alone the rest of the world. Luckily, the media’s role has been awesome. Right from Times of India to Facebook to Wiki to just about everything you can think of, it has changed our life in ways more than one… Some articles you read and forget, some linger in your mind and very few can really impact your thinking. Here are two articles, not so recent that kinda affected me. Reading them, you’ll understand the meaning of the title “Face Off!”.

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Written by Chronoz

September 27, 2008 at 1:29 pm

Posted in General News

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The Day of Deliverance…

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Incase you are totally cut off from the general world and tune into ChronoTron for your daily updates ;), yesterday was Mother’s Day. And of course, yours truly totally forgot it (any surprises). Perhaps ‘Forgot’ is the wrong word to be used here. I am pretty bad when it comes to (remembering) dates (pun intended :P) unless somebody thrusts it in my face. But then, I can’t blame the n news channels (Limit n –> infinity) whose sole purpose is to sensationalize the smallest controversy that could happen in some corner of the nation while all along claiming to be true saviours of democracy nor can I blame the internet for Mother’s day not being as popular as Valentines Day or Earth hour.

The Time: 10:30, I was watching some song on TV where the “I’m-a-wannabee” sings “Everyday morning I wake up and my angel is mother”. And the very next song had the #1 superstar singing (forgive the crude translation)

There is no life which hasn’t said Ma (mother)
Without mother, there is no improvement in life

I wondered aloud whether it was the in-thing today (one can never keep up with all these media trends) to continuously play songs related a single theme and luckily for me, in came my mother and coldly said “Obviously, Today is Mother’s day” and me with the smartness of a blunt axe said, “Oh! Happy Mother’s Day” and my mom just walked away without commenting.

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Written by Chronoz

May 12, 2008 at 7:22 am

Cut The Flirting!

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No, this is not a retort against the flirts who inhabit the city but if you are living in the al-Jof region in Saudi Arabia and your prime hobby is flirting, this is definitely for you. The governor of the above mentioned region has ordered authorities to punish people who flirt in public by errrr…. cutting their hair.

Prince Fahd bin Badr, governor of the northern al-Jof region, ordered police to carry out the punishment after seeing a group of men with long hair pestering female students as they left school in the northern al-Qurayat province, Al-Hayat newspaper said.

Saudi Arabia has quite a strict lifestyle and men and women are not allowed to mix freely in the public but I do find this a bit comical. Mr.Governor, I appreciate your decision to help girls by trying to abolish flirting but hey, there are flirts without hair as well. I wonder what the punishment to these kind of people would be. Let them grow hair? Or Tonsure their head?

Maybe the wagging tongues need to cut instead of the hair. This might frighten the over-enthusiastic boys.

Source: AP

Written by Chronoz

May 1, 2008 at 3:41 pm

Posted in General News, Humor

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