Trigger. Shoot. Kill. Do it. You can do it. You have dreamt of it the whole last year. This is your moment. You are the hero of this movie. No one can even come close. This is your story. You have no other option left. Don't lose focus. It's simple. You just have to close your eyes and pull the trigger. The gun will do the rest. You cannot chicken out now. You have to do it. If you don't do it now, you'll never be able to do it, and you'll regret it your whole life.
Right then. Click. Shoot. Bam. Game over. A sudden adrenalin rush, I wake up. I am sweating hard. The fan is running with all the torque it's got. I can even smell gunpowder. But what was that all about. Who got that bullet. You know how you don't usually remember your dreams, its for good. Because if you are having the most exciting dream of your life, and you are thrown out of the theater mid way, there is nothing more irritating. I definitely killed somebody. I was in a big, strange room. It was octagonal in shape, walls so white, they glowed. It was empty, except for a giant mirror on one of the walls. And there was definitely one more character in the story. It was standing behind me with it's hands and legs tied somehow. It could not move. Either I could not see it's face clear enough, or maybe I don't remember it.
I had the gun in my hand. A voice was encouraging me to shoot. I am pretty sure it was mine. The gun was not mine. But still there I was, with the gun, and I shot somebody. It cant be my Chemical Reaction Engineering professor, I've seen many bad papers through my life, never once have I wished to kill the teacher. It cannot be the mid semester, in some freaky impersonating way. I have not done that bad. It was definitely not a 'she'. She can be a bitch sometimes, but I wouldn't shoot her for that. I, by default, am a non violent person. Not the kind that will get a kick by shooting someone for no reason. I am getting frustrated. May be I have gone a little cuckoo in my head, but this has become really important to me. I need to know what the dream meant, I need to know who was the 'other guy'. I am a little frustrated, maybe I will try to sleep some more and complete the missing links.
What the hell! How the fuck did I get here. Blinded by the sudden flash, I can not see anything clearly, but my intuition told me I am in the room again. I try to find my feet while my eyes try to adjust to the shining white walls of the room. I feel dizzy. Slowly regaining my balance, I should start thinking, I think. My hand feels cold. I can feel the cold metal against it. I am in the same room. But this is more real. Like a movie. Everything is so solid. I can touch and smell things. I am a little scared by now. The blood in my veins is turning cold. The dizziness is not yet gone. I think I am going to throw up. That would be embarrassing, even by the imaginary room standards. But wait, where is the guy I was supposed to kill? If I am here, I am here for a purpose, and I will fulfill it.
I see him now. He is on the other side of the strange octagonal room. Tied up on the chair, unable to move. I hold on to the gun tightly. I will go over there and finish the job. And that will mark the end of this nightmare. There is still a little doubt in the back of my head. But I am going through with it anyway. With a gun in my hand, a firm resolve in my heart, I walk to his end of the room. The sight of the man's face breaks my resolve and turns it to fright. The face has a steely expression, kind of like mine. It is scarred, burnt. His eyes are closed, but I still am sure that he can see that I have come. He is looking at me, I don't know how. His eyes are still closed. "At last, you are ready. Come, fulfill your destiny." His voice, his voice sounded familiar, like the one I heard in the dream. Then, it struck. The voice is mine. Everything is blank again. Nothing makes sense. Why am I sitting on the chair. If it is me on the chair, them who am I. And am I supposed to kill myself. Questions were clouding my head. Nothing was clear. The voice was more imposing this time,"Do not think. You don't understand, just shoot me and you will be happy." I don't want to fight anymore. My head is throbbing with pain. I close my eyes and pull the trigger.
Right then. Click. Shoot. Bam. Game over. A sudden adrenalin rush, I wake up. This time, I am not sweating. I am cold. Shivering. My head hurts. I try to find a meaning in all this. Why did I just killed myself? But I guess I should stop thinking.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
I dont give a damn!
The following is a real problem statement from the book Chemical Reaction Engineering by Octave Levenspiel.
Chapter 5 ; Question no.28.
HOLMES: You say he was last seen tending this vat . . . .
SIR BOSS: You mean "overflow stirred tank reactor," Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: You must excuse my ignorance of your particular technical jargon, Sir Boss.
SIR BOSS: That's all right; however, you must find him, Mr. Holmes. Imbibit was a queer chap; always staring into the reactor, taking deep breaths, and licking his lips, but he was our very best operator. Why, since he left, our conversion of googliox has dropped from 80% to 75%.
HOLMES (tapping the side of the vat idly): By the way, what goes on in the vat?
SIR BOSS: Just an elementary second-order reaction, between ethanol and googliox, if you know what I mean. Of course, we maintain a large excess of alcohol, about 100 to 1 and . . . .
HOLMES (interrupting): Intriguing, we checked every possible lead in town and found not a single clue.
SIR BOSS (wiping away the tears): We'll give the old chap a raise-about twopence per week-if only he'll come back.
DR. WATSON: Pardon me, but may I ask a question?
HOLMES: Why certainly, Watson.
WATSON: What is the capacity of this vat, Sir Boss?
SIR BOSS: A hundred Imperial gallons, and we always keep it filled to the brim. That is why we call it an overflow reactor. You see we are running at full capacity-profitable operation you know.
HOLMES: Well, my dear Watson, we must admit that we're stumped, for without clues deductive powers are of no avail.
WATSON: Ahh, but there is where you are wrong, Holmes. (Then, turning to the manager): Imbibit was a largish fellow-say about 18 stone-was he not?
SIR BOSS: Why yes, how did you know?
HOLMES (with awe): Amazing, my dear Watson!
WATSON (modestly): Why it's quite elementary, Holmes. We have all the clues necessary to deduce what happened to the happy fellow. But first of all, would someone fetch me some dill?
With Sherlock Holmes and Sir Boss impatiently waiting, Dr. Watson casually leaned against the vat, slowly and carefully filled his pipe, and with the keen sense of the dramatic-lit it. There our story ends.
(a) What momentous revelation was Dr. Watson planning to make, and how did he arrive at this conclusion?
(b) Why did he never make it?
Chapter 5 ; Question no.28.
HOLMES: You say he was last seen tending this vat . . . .
SIR BOSS: You mean "overflow stirred tank reactor," Mr. Holmes.
HOLMES: You must excuse my ignorance of your particular technical jargon, Sir Boss.
SIR BOSS: That's all right; however, you must find him, Mr. Holmes. Imbibit was a queer chap; always staring into the reactor, taking deep breaths, and licking his lips, but he was our very best operator. Why, since he left, our conversion of googliox has dropped from 80% to 75%.
HOLMES (tapping the side of the vat idly): By the way, what goes on in the vat?
SIR BOSS: Just an elementary second-order reaction, between ethanol and googliox, if you know what I mean. Of course, we maintain a large excess of alcohol, about 100 to 1 and . . . .
HOLMES (interrupting): Intriguing, we checked every possible lead in town and found not a single clue.
SIR BOSS (wiping away the tears): We'll give the old chap a raise-about twopence per week-if only he'll come back.
DR. WATSON: Pardon me, but may I ask a question?
HOLMES: Why certainly, Watson.
WATSON: What is the capacity of this vat, Sir Boss?
SIR BOSS: A hundred Imperial gallons, and we always keep it filled to the brim. That is why we call it an overflow reactor. You see we are running at full capacity-profitable operation you know.
HOLMES: Well, my dear Watson, we must admit that we're stumped, for without clues deductive powers are of no avail.
WATSON: Ahh, but there is where you are wrong, Holmes. (Then, turning to the manager): Imbibit was a largish fellow-say about 18 stone-was he not?
SIR BOSS: Why yes, how did you know?
HOLMES (with awe): Amazing, my dear Watson!
WATSON (modestly): Why it's quite elementary, Holmes. We have all the clues necessary to deduce what happened to the happy fellow. But first of all, would someone fetch me some dill?
With Sherlock Holmes and Sir Boss impatiently waiting, Dr. Watson casually leaned against the vat, slowly and carefully filled his pipe, and with the keen sense of the dramatic-lit it. There our story ends.
(a) What momentous revelation was Dr. Watson planning to make, and how did he arrive at this conclusion?
(b) Why did he never make it?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Black Forests and Banana Splits
I hate dentists. They are stupid. Most of them are dentists because they could not clear the PMT.
You are sitting on a dentist's chair, with a clipper tearing your mouth open. The guy pokes your gum with a needle and asks "Does it hurt?". Of course it hurts you moron. " How much?". You slap the idiot with all the might you got and go "Only a bit more."
Next time the dentist is about to inject a local anesthetic in your mouth, ask for morphine. Things are so much better with morphine, you'll enjoy every second of it!
Its a pity there are not much female dentists. I'd rather have a pair of female hands do things inside my mouth.
There's a reason people visit dentists. They have beautiful secretaries.
Dentists are the suprelatives of terror. They induce terror wherever they go. Its like when you know you have cut yourself while shaving and are standing with the aftershave. Dentists are just a little more scary. Pain is on its way. All you can do is wait.
I would like to meet an elephant dentist. His tools would be fun.
Every doctor has a pile of books up his sleeve, ophthalmologists, cardiologists, dermatologists. But dentists don't like to read. They like to drill.
It would suck to be a dentist's son. That would be years of growing up without chocolate.
I swear I once met a toothless dentist.
You know why dentists like to inflict pain? They are sadists. You know why they are sadists? They flunked Med School.
You are sitting on a dentist's chair, with a clipper tearing your mouth open. The guy pokes your gum with a needle and asks "Does it hurt?". Of course it hurts you moron. " How much?". You slap the idiot with all the might you got and go "Only a bit more."
Next time the dentist is about to inject a local anesthetic in your mouth, ask for morphine. Things are so much better with morphine, you'll enjoy every second of it!
Its a pity there are not much female dentists. I'd rather have a pair of female hands do things inside my mouth.
There's a reason people visit dentists. They have beautiful secretaries.
Dentists are the suprelatives of terror. They induce terror wherever they go. Its like when you know you have cut yourself while shaving and are standing with the aftershave. Dentists are just a little more scary. Pain is on its way. All you can do is wait.
I would like to meet an elephant dentist. His tools would be fun.
Every doctor has a pile of books up his sleeve, ophthalmologists, cardiologists, dermatologists. But dentists don't like to read. They like to drill.
It would suck to be a dentist's son. That would be years of growing up without chocolate.
I swear I once met a toothless dentist.
You know why dentists like to inflict pain? They are sadists. You know why they are sadists? They flunked Med School.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
A WEDNESDAY
They did it again. Bollywood is sure getting intelligent, and stylish while they are at it. Never before have we seen a series of racy songless thrillers in our country. A Wednesday hits you hard, and all at the right spots. Terrorism as a theme has been exhausted, as much as it could be. Still, you are glued, till the end. There is no supercop, no evil mastermind, no mission impossible, just a Stupid Common Man. Frustrated, angry with the 'SYSTEM'. Yes, same old formula, but put forth in a refreshingly fresh and exciting manner.
The absence of a 'HERO' makes any hindi flick vulnerable. But the classic act of two cinema stalwarts as an intelligent policeman and a nameless bomber takes the drama to a new heights. Anupam Kher is brilliant as the no-nonsense cop, as always. Wonder why he did Mere Baap Pehle Aap. Naseeruddin Shah does a great job as the common man. On the terrace of an underconsruction skyscraper, all set to bomb the city, drinking tea and eating sandwiches while he is at it. You can't get better than this. Jimmy Shergil and Amir Bashir played their parts. And what you get is a speedy, high adrenalin drama with a message.
The common man speech at the end is a tad too long. But not unbearable. Some parts, like the college dropout hacker, are seemingly ripped off from the Die Hard series. All said, this is the stuff that makes you proud to be a stupid common man.
Ps. I know its late for a review. But what the hell.
PPs. No I dont have enough cinematic understanding. But again, what the hell.
The absence of a 'HERO' makes any hindi flick vulnerable. But the classic act of two cinema stalwarts as an intelligent policeman and a nameless bomber takes the drama to a new heights. Anupam Kher is brilliant as the no-nonsense cop, as always. Wonder why he did Mere Baap Pehle Aap. Naseeruddin Shah does a great job as the common man. On the terrace of an underconsruction skyscraper, all set to bomb the city, drinking tea and eating sandwiches while he is at it. You can't get better than this. Jimmy Shergil and Amir Bashir played their parts. And what you get is a speedy, high adrenalin drama with a message.The common man speech at the end is a tad too long. But not unbearable. Some parts, like the college dropout hacker, are seemingly ripped off from the Die Hard series. All said, this is the stuff that makes you proud to be a stupid common man.
Ps. I know its late for a review. But what the hell.
PPs. No I dont have enough cinematic understanding. But again, what the hell.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
DREAMS
I was up late last night
Let me sleep.
There is a little left of the night
Let the sun rise.
There are unfinished dreams
They are somewhere on the road.
Let me sleep a little more
Let me sow them dreams once more.
The dreams that are happy
The dreams that are sad
The dreams that are angry
All the dreams I ever had
Where there was no one but me
My sweet haven, It was
The one thing that was mine.
Lightning, clouds, rains, sun,
They were my slaves.
There were gardens, slides,
And puppets. There were,
Kites tore through the winds,
With the kites I flew,
Where sky was the brightest blue,
Birds on it, I drew.
I dont have those dreams no more.
My sleep is blank. I try,
I fail. I try again, fail again.
I cry in the nights, waiting,
For a glimpse of a dream touch me,
For the magic to rekindle,
I am scared I lost them forever,
My sleep is blank, I try.
I want to have those dreams again.
I want to live them dreams again.
I want to fly with the kites,
I want to draw the birds in the sky.
Help me, get my dreams back.
I was up late last night
Let me sleep.
There is a little left of the night
Let the sun rise.
There are unfinished dreams
They are somewhere on the road.
Let me sleep a little more
Let me sow them dreams once more.
Acknowledgment: Jack(once more), and Gulzar(thanks for the magic).
Let me sleep.
There is a little left of the night
Let the sun rise.
There are unfinished dreams
They are somewhere on the road.
Let me sleep a little more
Let me sow them dreams once more.
The dreams that are happy
The dreams that are sad
The dreams that are angry
All the dreams I ever had
Where there was no one but me
My sweet haven, It was
The one thing that was mine.
Lightning, clouds, rains, sun,
They were my slaves.
There were gardens, slides,
And puppets. There were,
Kites tore through the winds,
With the kites I flew,
Where sky was the brightest blue,
Birds on it, I drew.
I dont have those dreams no more.
My sleep is blank. I try,
I fail. I try again, fail again.
I cry in the nights, waiting,
For a glimpse of a dream touch me,
For the magic to rekindle,
I am scared I lost them forever,
My sleep is blank, I try.
I want to have those dreams again.
I want to live them dreams again.
I want to fly with the kites,
I want to draw the birds in the sky.
Help me, get my dreams back.
I was up late last night
Let me sleep.
There is a little left of the night
Let the sun rise.
There are unfinished dreams
They are somewhere on the road.
Let me sleep a little more
Let me sow them dreams once more.
Acknowledgment: Jack(once more), and Gulzar(thanks for the magic).
Monday, September 1, 2008
NORRENTOMINE
http://summer-diary.blogspot.com/2008/09/day-of-letters.html
What I am doing here?
I don't know.
Why am I doing this?
Because the son of a bitch betrayed me. The letters were Jack's, I know. But they were supposed to be for my roll. They were not that good anyways. I was using them just for the sake of friendship n all, u know. The bastard tried to act like one. Now eat this bitch.
Dear Arjun Singh,
This Immunology class is hurting my religious beliefs, all they talk about is immortality and eternal vitality. I request you to do away with this course and introduce some relevant course, say immune response in the backward sections of the society or something.
Thanking you in advance,
Jack.
Dear Arjun Singh,
I have this feeling that my Animal professor, that is Animal cell biotechnology professor, makes up terms by himself. Have you ever heard of Star activity or suicide substrate or creee protein or cleavage assay. I hope not. So please get this course done away with and introduce some contemporary course like reservation for animals in IIT or something.
Thanking you in advance,
Jack.
Told you they were not so good.
What I am doing here?
I don't know.
Why am I doing this?
Because the son of a bitch betrayed me. The letters were Jack's, I know. But they were supposed to be for my roll. They were not that good anyways. I was using them just for the sake of friendship n all, u know. The bastard tried to act like one. Now eat this bitch.
Dear Arjun Singh,
This Immunology class is hurting my religious beliefs, all they talk about is immortality and eternal vitality. I request you to do away with this course and introduce some relevant course, say immune response in the backward sections of the society or something.
Thanking you in advance,
Jack.
Dear Arjun Singh,
I have this feeling that my Animal professor, that is Animal cell biotechnology professor, makes up terms by himself. Have you ever heard of Star activity or suicide substrate or creee protein or cleavage assay. I hope not. So please get this course done away with and introduce some contemporary course like reservation for animals in IIT or something.
Thanking you in advance,
Jack.
Told you they were not so good.
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