A Day In The Life Of An Engineer

There is no denying the fact that engineers all across the world are weirdest of the species. Not only they are semi-intellectual freaks, but also are socially degenerated. That is how world sees them. The story though is a bit different.

Though engineers all around the globe are different, yet they possess stark similarities in their life styles. Here I explain a typical day in the life of an engineer, which will obviously be me!

Weekdays

1. Every day, after I wake up, first thing to come out of my mind is God's name. Though the second thing always is - "Fuck! I'm late." Yes, for no good reason to back the fact, engineers always sleep late at night. Pass the frontbenchers and the nerd types, any engineer sleeping before the midnight is a rare sight.

2. Then starts a 45 minute rush of getting up, attending nature's call, brushing and bathing (conditions apply*) and getting ready for the class. And in between that, happens a lot of cursing and scolding and abusing to clear up the slots for the bathrooms and for missing slippers/shirts/trousers/towels/underwear and what not!

3. Finally ready, I ride on my motorcycle and reach college in ten minutes, in the process bypassing the road jams. Having a bike really helps and saves some 10 more extra minutes for sleep. People traveling in auto-rickshaws on the other hand have a hard time in the traffic jams.

4. If I manage to reach the first class within the first 10 minutes of its inception, I will be lucky enough to get the attendance. If not, scolding and lectures, plus no attendance. Attendance is the key! If it were not for attendance, 70% of the population wouldn't even show up even once for the lectures.

5. Rest of the day is almost the same for every self respecting 20 year old of this country. Boring lectures and scolding professors. If it weren't for my friends and gossip, I cannot even imagine surviving lectures all through the day.

6. After a whole lot of brain busting, as soon as I reach home, I crash on bed. If there are no tasks lined up like meeting a friend/making food/cleaning etc. I would sleep.

7. Then begins the night, the favorite part of my day. It depends how one utilizes it. Some prefer watching a movie and some prefer playing cards. I prefer playing games or read a book or write something. Studies? Are you fuckin' kidding me? 

That my friend is the end of a weekday.

Weekends

1. What rain is to a heating body is what weekends are to the engineers or to any mortal for the matter of fact. After a freaking 5 days of daily torture for 8 hours, one finally gets to unwind. Though I may not guarantee all 5 of the weekdays were not bunks, a holiday is a holiday after all. 

2. Now, people do stuff on weekend nights. Many go to restaurants, drink, play cards etc. Some lucky bastards who have the luxury of a girl friend stick to their phones the whole god damn night! Feviquick, here they are! I like a sort of a get together of friends and talk through the night. High frequency intellectual shit is emitted in these kind of meetings, mixed with a heavy dose of slangs.Heavy informational facts are exchanged, out of which, many are either irrelevant, inaccurate or made up. Men!

3. The next morning, or afternoon rather, is a sure-shot hangover for some and a day followed by a lot of boredom for many. Even though how much I hate to admit it, Sunday and Saturday afternoons are usually boring and long. A wise guy once said - "You cannot appreciate the miracle of a bunk unless you have attended a fair amount of chickenshit lectures." That wise guy is none other than me. *lovely wink*

4. The life again goes inside a 'for' loop (sorry for the nerd that gets out of me every now and then) and the errands of meeting up deadlines (though none of them are met) and completing assignments (every word of which is copied from an authentic source) continues. 

Engineers are always running short of time. Out of all the chaos that we go through every day, how can one possibly do anything unconventional or out of the box. Top it off with the meager count of the opposite sex present, out of which 80% are lunatic looking! And then you call us sociopaths huh? Start respecting engineers, or we would stop inventing stuff for you! (*wink-of-attitude*) Until next time,

Adios!

Dost (Friend)

"A Friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882) US poet & essayist.

Out of many questions that pester around my conscious, one question that stands out the most is - 'Does the end justifies the means?' The result may well reserve a place in the gray area, but today I beg to differ. My answer today will be a Yes. Looking behind at the past two years of my life and seeing the way I have shaped up (figuratively), I may roll the name of my fast friends in the credits. No man is perfect and never will become one, but the journey towards perfection gets a hasty pace while friends are around. They have cursed and beaten me and scolded me though also supplying me with a heavy load of love. All that just to make me a person that I am today. And by the looks of it, I think I am getting better by the day.

Let me just pass the general obligations of 'why friendship day is celebrated' and stuff. Now that I own a personal space in the Webville, this blog, I am publically showing my affection towards my friends. I am a man in my early twenties and at this age precisely, men are not very good at expressing compassion. But it does not means that my love is absent. I am still very fond of giving pecks on my mother's cheek and diddling around my father to let him buy me a new gadget (earlier I did that for toys). I am still very protective about my sisters and cousins though it is very rare that I call them up and talk it out. Same thing goes for my friends. I may not get much time (though I am absurdly clueless why because I do absolutely nothing), but that does not means that I won't take out some if they call for it.

This article goes out to all the people I have ever met and had a bond of friendship with. If I made a mistake, I am all apologies (Nirvana style). If you ever hurt me, well I am still searching. Kidding. Yes, drinking together and passing out and checking out girls is one part of a friendship, but on the deeper side, friends are nothing less than an alternate family. Specially for me and all the people who are and have been studying away from their home. 

Love you all ♥ :) Until next time,

Adios!

P.S. - Guys form my flat, if you are reading, where the hell are my brand new pair of socks? :|

Railgaadi (Train)

Since my childhood, I have been completely amazed by the trains. Amazed by the way they connect people and places and amazed by the size and possibilities of them and amazed by the way they work and by the fact that how much a common person depends on them. I remember, when I was a child, my father wouldn't let me stand at the gate of the coach and get off at stations (considering the fact that I was one hell of a bastard during my childhood). At that time, I so desperately wanted to grow up. And then, I grew up and I did what I wanted to do. I would stand on the gate for long hours, watching everything pass by. I don't know why, but for some reason, standing on a racing train's door gives me a feeling of immense power and freedom,
a feeling I rarely get. Standing on a train's gate while it is moving at 100km/hr and seeing it turn is amazing. All that fast blowing wind that falls on your face and takes away your aroma into the thin air to let it finally vanish is excruciating. If you have not stood on a pacing train's door ever before, you are most certainly having issues. And if that was not all for issues, I have a hefty count of friends that have never been on a train ever before. I sometimes don't buy the fact that there actually are people who have never traveled in a train in their whole god damn life. And then you call yourself sane huh? How can one stay away from such a humongous phenomenon?

The only thing that I hate about trains is that one can hardly sleep in it. At least I cannot. But, though I may contradict with myself, it is also the best thing (sometimes). I wake up through the night, looking outside the window. Mind you that I didn't say seeing because seeing is watching something and registering it in your mind. Looking is... well, just looking. Yeah, so I look outside the window whole night- into the eternity, small and big towns, woods, farms and fields. And think, not about the farms, but about everything else not even remotely related to them. Now don't tell me you haven't been philosophical about life at some point while traveling (or is it only me?). I think about my past events, the dark ones and the bright ones. About people who are in my life and about people who were in my life. About things I would do in future. Here, I share a little secret with you guys. After every train journey of mine (which are always quite big), I have a brand new business plan that would shake the world (though none of them see the light of the day) After all this thinking, I shift to watching movies and all and yeah, sometimes writing too. This one is written while I am on train.

It so happened that I didn't got a reservation in an AC coach in the train back to home this time and by the call of acute helplessness of events, here I am sitting in a sleeper coach after an eternity. Since past 3-4 years, the only time that I have been in a sleeper coach is to escort some illiterate guy in it. If you have never been in a sleeper coach before go be there. But on second thoughts, don't go. Wait. Whatever! Do what you deem right; I hold no responsibility for your actions. And for the sake of readers who wither away from even the name of the train, I may try and explain what goes in there. It is not easy mind you. Many veterans have tried to explain that scenario and I hold a social obligation of matching up to them. Let’s see if I can.

Every sleeper class coach of the Indian Railways train is almost the same. Loud noises of babies and children crying and weeping echoes almost during 50% of your journey. The Oh! So sweet smell of freedom (human wastes) makes you feel rejuvenated (sick in pants) all the time. People smoke and drink (both of which are not allowed) on their respective seats like it’s one of their yoga routines. The compartments are full of people traveling without ticket as if the train is some fucking property of theirs. Curses and slangs are chanted so frequently that you soon forget they actually were curses and slangs. Using a washroom (if you find a vacant one that is) is a task roughly on the level of Fear Factor's array of tasks. But then, finding a cleaner one is even more difficult. Patches of beetelnut juice on the floor are so many that you can count them and pass a good amount of time (me and my cousin came out with this game of counting patches when we were a bit young). So yeah! This is pretty much what it is . I know it sounds really scary but it is not (it's scarier).

The moment of truth that I faced while traveling this time was that a middle aged couple with two young daughters (probably 8 and 5) were traveling in the same compartment. I was sitting on a window seat and reading, when one of the two girls (the elder one) called me and said "Uncle, let me sit near the window" (What?! Uncle? She was so not getting the window seat now!). I was too involved in reading to pay attention to her childhood fantasies. She was quite a brat and irritated me a lot. I wasn't really impressed by her cuteness and she chanting words like alien attack and transform shape (Ben Ten, you have ruined the younger ones of my country! You owe me one) were not helping either. There was no way I was leaving window seat. Sad by my denial, She did what every helpless child does, call her parents for help. Now, his father was gray enough to realize that I am not one of the regular visitors of the sleeper coach and only a ticket problem must have led me here in the sleeper coach. He on the other hand was not ...rich. There is no nicer way to put it. There is never a nicer way to put the harsh realities of someone's life in front of him. He cannot ask a man superior than himself in education and money to just get up and make place for her daughter. Who is he after all? He asked his daughter to shut up and sit down where she finds place. I then did something that I am really proud of. I got up and shifted and made place for the little girl solely to let that girl believe that her father is a hero. Her father's gaze met mine and I reassured him of one thing - "There is still a little bit of good left in this world!" Until next time,

Adios!

Pehla (First)

Life has always been about first timers. The magic lies in the first occurrence itself. Second time, though how delightful it may seem, our mind knows that it knows what's happening. The first rain, the first kiss, first baby, first movie in a theater, first motor bike, first day in college. If someone doesn't stop me, I can go on and on about it.

The funny part is though that how much special we want everything, that is our first time, to be. It is like a continuous quest with ourselves. A quest to hold that moment in time when it is happening and to make it as picture perfect as we can. Not to mention we miserably fail most of the times. Picture perfect is a myth. I am no different when it comes to make my first experience worth remembering. I too want my every first experience to be as perfect as it possibly can be. But that's not what actually happens. You want to know how was my first day at college? First up an embarrassing welcome by The Bastards (I lovably call my teachers that :-) ), then an accident on the road (not that I got injured), a guy from my college (who in future becomes a jerk who calls me for help every now and then) takes me up for a tease and takes a heavy treat from me and the day ends with a mild ragging by Fourthies (mild as I have seen way worse than what they can possibly dream of). Not so special for a first timer eh? The second day though was a miracle. How? Well, let's just keep it as a secret for a while.

I find it really funny that the people who walk around with camera on every bloody occasion of their life have no idea of what they are actually missing with their naked eyes. So much for being picture perfect. And just as I was losing hopes on every first timers, a funny thing happened this morning. Read on.

Since I was very young, I have always missed a chance of experiencing the first rain of the season. And just to assume and know what rain means to me, go here. Though I couldn't recall any reason for that, the point is I have never done that. My mom always says not to bathe in the first few rains of the monsoon but what a screwdriver does to screws, Yash Aswani does to rules. I once took a bath in one of the first few rains and guess what? I ended up having scratches all over my body. Did I care? Hell no! Still, I always missed the first on. Coming to the point. It's early morning for the world and late night for me. And guess what? It's raining. There is a lovely song struck to my ears, I am writing and enjoying rain with a hot cup of tea. This is the first rain of the season and I took a quick bath too. Feeling delightful. Got a relief after all those days of heat wave.

So you see, sometimes waiting for things to happen and not pushing them too hard may get you where you want to go. Not everything in life can be made picture perfect, but changing the definitions of how much picture perfect you want everything to be will remove the extra pressure. What else is life all about than adjustments? Until next time,

Adios.

Birhaa (Separation)

Every time there are holidays, I am the one amongst my friends and acquaintances  who goes last from Greater Noida (probably). Almost always a day later. And the feeling of bidding everyone good bye and then staying alone after that is really draining. I may announce in annoyance that it has been 9 years since I am studying away from home, but still, a human heart is a human heart. And what a human heart needs most during these times is a company. A company that is good. But heck, at this time, I would even talk to Rakhi Sawant for hours. It's not that I have a problem staying alone, rather I am very good at that art, but living without problems is not always living peacefully mind you. The roads are deserted as if a curfew has recently been announced. Ansal Plaza is.. well, empty. Feels very strange, roaming in a building that is so big yet so empty (and they crave about space huh?)!  Familiar faces in crowds are absent (Wait! You said crowd?).  Nothing seems good enough - Games, Food, Movies, Songs, and another pretty things not worth mentioning. I swear I don't miss my home too much, not enough to crave me meet them. You might call me a spineless jerk, but this is a truth. I have been raised over pain, and pain makes you strong. It's just that I desperately need to get surrounded by a few familiar faces. I am a bit lonely.

Everything in life has an essence of separation. An air of dislocation. Probably, separation is the biggest truth human heart has ever discovered after death. In a way, death itself is a separation, from this mad-mad world. Even after years of staying away from home, I feel butterflies in my stomach when I have to leave a place I am already settled in to a place that I would have to settle in. If I stay a week at home,I get creepy even by the thoughts of leaving it. You know, great food, reputation, mother, siblings and peace. Specially the sunsets. During my stay at home, I ride my bike across the fields of rice and cane and watch the sun set. Beautiful moment I tell you. Leaving all this is not comforting. And about Greater Noida, well I love the overdose of freedom I get here. Freedom is a lethal weapon and I know how to use it wisely. *wink*

I have seen(felt) separation from many friends over the years but still haven't got used to it. Every time it is a similar kind of confusion yet very different in itself. I dread the day when I would be leaving college, but lets not think about it right now. 
Separation is painful, but it is bearable, I know . Life moves on, and it carries you along. A journey where you meet companions, and then you leave them at some point or the other. This is a never ending process of destiny. God's personal 'so called' master plan. The dirtiest humor of fate. Strike a smile and whistle a song. That will make the journey a bit exiting.

Happy Holidays! :) Until next time,

Adios! ;)