And we never seemed to go ahead

Despite of the fact that i see wonder-boy,let's call him Super right now, every single day, i never ceased to find him cute.It's been a year since we first,and last spoke, and it's those undescribable awkward moments, when we come within a few feet of each other, it’s those awkward moments, when you cant seem to remember your resolution of even smiling at the person you talk to so often online, and the only way out is to turn your head and wish the earth would swallow you up. Takes me back to the second phase...

Part 2:And she used her brains

A little bit of a calculative and observational nature comes handy. He once stepped out of a classroom in the corridor when I was passing by, and this time only I saw him, I think. The next moment, an old friend of mine stepped out from the same classroom. Conversation began, and I eventually found out, that this in fact, was the FYJC, and now, I knew not only his standard (yippee!) but also, his division. Sly I also figured out his timetable.
I do feel like a stalker at times, I mentioned it earlier, but this was my closest encounter to being one. Hence manifesting my obnoxious tendency to exaggerate.
So here I was, I knew his class, timetable. But not his name.
‘Aate jaate khoobsurat aawara sadko pe
Kabhi kabhi ittefaaq se
Kitne anjaan log mil jaate hai
Unn mein se kuchh log bhool jaate hai
Kuchh yaad reh jaate hai’


And how!
A girl with a crush is definitely one thing I love being. Those random moments when songs just strike you as if they’ve been written for you. Stolen glances. Just knowing you have a reason to go to college.
It wasn’t as if he was the only cute guy around, you know, but this fellow, Super, was the most endearing of the lot.
Sheesh, 5 days more and I won’t be going to college. But I guess I’ll keep thinking about Super till I cease to think!

Down under

Aussies are deranged mongloids.No, i'm not a possessed cricket fan who prays for the well-being of the team every morning, its just a lil fact, which i'm sure will make even you agree with my say here.
harbhajan batting, or bowling or watevah..see i dont even know when the incidence happened. Andrew symmonds, who by now every conscious Indian has something against, passes him. Bhajji the great says something like 'teri maa ki' to the hairball.
if this incidence were to happen in our country, between two adults playing a crucial, tending to violent game of cricket, as were the circumstances in the above instance, such a statement,'teri maa ki', would have lead to the abuser as well as the abused being thrashed to death by the opponent teams.We are all mother worshippers, and hence, even a suggestion of an anti-momma word would definitely land someone in the hospital.As you all should know, what follows after the 'ki' in the 'teri maa ki' isn't the nicest thing to say abt anyone, least of all a mother.
case in point: mr.symmonds.i think he needs a haircut.or mebbe its his earhair we can see growing out..but whatever the growth is,its definitely addled his hearing ability.because as you oughta know unless you've been in a coma for the past week, andrew heard 'MONKEY'.
monkey??teri monkey??for goodness' sake, symmonds,no one gets racially offended if you abuse your non-existent pet monkey. or may be you do own one.but that's not the point. and racial??why on earth would someone call you a 'monkey' to abuse you,and bless you dear, no one from India, let alone our exhuberant Punjab, leaves it at monkey. and pray tell me, how does tht become racial?so we all are descendants of monkeys..
daa!!there it is!he thought harbhajan was abusing his ancestors!!..but i guess he went a lil deaf when hearing which one though.
Or may be, jus maybe, because they live on an isolated landmass, they feel really lonely and act this way when in company of humans.If i see ponting jumping about demented with joy at another victory,i'll be expecting him to carry his babies in a pouch next time.
Mr.Kumble, forgiveness is all divine,but make it clear they shouldn't act human to our god-likes, and err again.
and the cricket body is dumb enough to make this a case.sometimes i cant help but nod when they say the country's going to the dogs, or may be monkeys.what if they'd known wat the right thing was?but it still doesnt matter..'b******s' wasn't to offensive for them.
advise to harbhajan: your one lucky dog/monkey...(will i be sued for this??please do that, i could do with not answering a few papers.)

Confessions of a girl with a crush.

If I were my own psychiatric case, I’d call for help really fast. It amazes me how complex a human can be, and that too studying myself I can tell, by not being a serial killer, how close I am to his occupational, less hazardous cousin- the serial stalker. Obsession grips me at the drop of a hat, and I don’t stop at anything to get what I really, impulsively want.
My spectrum of interests is a small one, but its so maddening that people who say ‘never say die’ re the first to say, ‘hey get a grip’. And though I can certainly say I’m not getting the message through to you, I’ll leave it at that and rant about something else.
When you go to college, it’s not coincidence that you spot people and find a few cute. Really cute. Gorgeous even. And how I did see this particular guy is still another story I call my own little college love story. May be clich├ęd or so predictable you’ll be able to name the characters and tell me what’s to happen next, but for me, it’s my story, and just as important to me as yours to you.
So to make mine easier, and more important to me, I’m gonna write it in parts. Just the way it happened in phases.
Ready? I never was either!
Part 1: glances and that’s all.
It started at, surprise surprise, the college fest. Me standing in the audience. They were asking people to come on stage and dance (nope Pushkar its not you). Music in the background: ‘Dil na diya’ from kkrish.
Everyone’s prancing about, when a boy in a blue shirt comes up front and confidently does his bit with such grace, that the people who are watching are left with their mouths open. Me being one of them. He comes down after a few seconds and gets lost in the crowd.
I spot him again in college a few days later. So he has really clean eyes. Not big, not blue, not hazel. All I notice that they seem to look as if he’s just woken up and washed them. I have no idea who this boy is, even which standard he studies in. All I know now is that he dances well, wears good shirts, and has clean eyes.
And when he did look back at me, my face went red.

Consonants and Bowels.

Amazing what an induced insomniac with digestion problems can come up with at 4 in the morn. For all you dimwitted imps who couldn’t figure, 'induced insomniac with digestion problems' would mean me. I don’t remember having eaten anything out of place yesterday. Yesterday from any other day I’ve lived, as I can make a long list of 'what should not have been swallowed' for everyday except. But no-oh. The indigestion has to come, at a crucial point when you are 12 hours short of your prelim papers, and 16 of your big chemical bang.Facts that aren’t helping me right now: the BMC'S cut off the water supply for an indefinite period, and that I can’t seem to think of anything other than the Trojan horse, courtesy something I read yesterday. Also an intriguingly conscious conscience prickling incessantly pleading me to grab a chemistry book instead. 'If mum were awake....’. How is the world, so grown up, supposed to relate to the woes of a farty 17 year old?Other things that don’t make sense at the moment: 14 year old brother sitting up in bed, eyes wide open and yelling 'hello??helloooo??' into an invisible phone. Had I been a little more awake I would have rushed for the cell phone and recorded the git. Probably blackmailed him with it for the rest of his life. But for the life of me, I won't. Apparently I too talk in my sleep, and what disturbs me the most, is the point that my mum says I answer any question articulately and diligently in my sleep. Okay, I do have a clear conscience, but should I sue her for 'slander under semiconscious state'? You made me a Telgi.