Final Finals.

Always wanted to use this picture.

'Nuff Said.

Dreams from Last Night. (Eight days to the prof)

Scene 1

So, in the first dream we had to go to the surgery department and they’d ask a few questions or something and send our internal assessment. Only, when I get there the doctor in charge refuses to send mine because he says something’s missing. And then I tell my dad and he calls him and he turns out to be an old class mate and apparently everything’s fixed. Only when I turn up at the department the next day, he says they’ve already sent the assessment. -_____-

Scene 2

In this other dream, me and two friends I usually hang out with are staying at this hostel and it’s two nights before the Operative viva. And the place where the viva is going to happen is right across the hostel, with a large garden in between. So, I don’t know what we were thinking but we get it into our heads somehow that we’ll leave all the little books of Operative we have right outside the Boss’ office where the viva is going to happen so we can go through them right before the viva. So we go over the wall (or rather my two friends do, while I’m on the lookout) and when people see what we’ve been doing, everybody goes and hides their books somewhere outside the office. -.-

Anyway, we wake up the next day and one of the professors who’s chummy with the guys comes up and says you’re all done for, the Boss has found your books, but not all of them. And he’s sent them to the fair price shop outside the hostel. So we go there to see if our books have turned up too, but when we get there all the shop has is cards with the Joker’s face on them.

So we make a plan, we’ll create a distraction, we buy a ton of fireworks and in the middle of the night we head towards the garden with the wall that leads to the office, to go get our books before somebody finds them because they have our names on them and everything. And hey presto, who should we meet there but the Arrow! (Mysterious hero of Starling city, look him up)

Well, the Arrow says somebody’s been copying his arrows again so he wants to make new ones, Gold tipped ones, and he says oh cool you’re setting up fireworks, I’ll just melt my gold there. My friends then start going off in the opposite direction where there’s a high fence with rails and apparently they’ve been clever and hidden the books somewhere else! We put the crate carrying the fireworks under one of the rails and ignite them, and then one of them gets to work on the rails, sawing it in half or something so we can slide underneath. But then I discover that I can slip between the rails anyway (because I’m so thin -.-) and I go ahead while they saw away.

Cool schematics of the dream (yes, my paint skills need improvement)
When I go on for a while over the grounds, I come to a place like a University where all I can see is girls, and they all look at me weird, and point and giggle. And I’m like where are my books, where are my books, and I go up staircases and there are pictures of the Boss everywhere, and then I get stuck on a Penrose staircase too. Anyway, eventually I find a sign that says “Sajeel’s books hidden here” and I follow it and there my books are, and just then the others come up too and we all grab our books and run. Only, just as we make it to the corridor outside, we see the Boss coming out of a room with girls on both his arms, and we duck behind a pillar and wait for him to go before making a run for the fence.

And then I woke up. 

Must Start Studying. Must Start Studying.

So after the nerve-racking-absolutely-harrowing experience of submitting the quotas and praying fervently that you didn't get that little red flag next to your name, Sajeel decided to head home, which interestingly, involved a little adventure in which he nearly lost his beloved smart phone. Enroute to the bus stand, Sajeel had the fantabulous idea of trying out this new time lapse app that someone had used on Instagram, so he balanced the phone firmly on top of his knee as the rickshaw bearing him zipped through traffic. And then out of nowhere, two guys on a motorcycle that had been tailing said rickshaw for a while suddenly accelerate, and the guy sitting behind lunges for Sajeel's phone, and gets a good hold on it too! 

And then Sajeel whipped out his wand and shouted 'Expelliarmus!' and the guy was blasted off his feet. 'Nuff said.
Whenever I'm at the hostel, I think I'll go back home and sit and study in absolute peace and quiet. And then I come home and I'm like...
Me: Ami subha se sirf baraan safhay parhaay hain.
Mum: Haan tay puttar, it's not my fault. It's your own fault.
Jay: You forgot to add bloody.

That's me, during the days leading to the prof. since time immemorial. 
(image stolen off somebody's tumblr)
Final year subjects are all like the History of Magic, so even the thought of opening a book is enough to make you feel sleepy, which apparently is contagious too.
After we get back from Fajr, Kid heads straight for bed again.
Me: College nahi jaana aap nay?
Kid: Does this face look like it wants to go anywhere but sleep?!

Fifteen days to go, aaaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhh!

Operative Woes.

Subtle hints in the head of department's class lectures.

In other news, this dialogue finally makes sense.

DEB: What do we got? 
PEACH: Root canal, and by the looks of those x-rays it's not gonna be pretty. 
PATIENT: Owwwwwwwww! 
BLOAT: Rubber dam and clamp installed? 
PEACH: Yep. 
GURGLE What did he use to open? 
PEACH: Gates-Glidden drill. He seems to be favoring that one lately.  
DEB: I can't see, Flo. 
PATIENT: You're getting a little too--aaaaah!!! 
PEACH: Now he's doing the Schilder technique. 
BLOAT: Oooh, he's using a Hedstrom file. 
GURGLE: That's not a Hedstrom file. That's a K-Flex. 
BLOAT: It's got a teardrop cross-section. Clearly a Hedstrom. 
GURGLE: No, no. K-Flex. 
BLOAT: Hedstrom! 
GURGLE: K-Flex! 
BLOAT: Hedstro--! [inflates] There I go. A little help over here. 
DEB: I'll go deflate him. 
DENTIST: All right, go ahead and rinse. 
GURGLE: Ugh! The human mouth is a disgusting place.

My ship is sailing without a Captain.

And there is no guiding light in the night.

Muharram holidays. Empty hostel. Peace and quiet. The absence of man made sounds. Of people and their entropy. Clarity. Nothingness. Good food. Hot water. 72 hours to bond with Operative. Four days of death.

You are not alone.

Nasty November.

We need signatures.
More than a hundred of them.
And there's no one there to do them.
And Operative is making me soocidal.

Quotas submission progress: 2/6
Quotas ready to be submitted: 0/4
Quotas nearly ready to be submitted: 1/4

Speaking of signatures. Meet Kurt Vonnegut’s.

We need a bloody miracle. 

Oh What A Tangled Web We Have.

Little things bother me. Like how it's the 21st century and we still can't italicize words in text messages. I mean someone should have figured out how to how to do that by now, right? Right? Also, why don't computers have auto-correct? It's too much bother right-clicking on a word and selecting the right spellings! DON'T THEY CARE ABOUT SAVING OUR TIME?!

I've decided to delete the Candy Crush app from my phone. Which is saying something, since I'm on, wait for it... level 277! (this might or might not have anything to do with the fact that I've been stuck at this level for a gazillion years now)

I've been reading Alain de Botton's Essays in Love.
“.. if you asked most people whether they believed in love or not, they’d probably say they didn’t. Yet that’s not necessarily what they truly think. It’s just the way they defend themselves against what they want. They believe in it, but pretend they don’t until they’re allowed to. Most people would throw away all their cynicism if they could. The majority just never gets the chance.”

The professional is just around the corner. And as a colleague pointed out, our usual lament of  'Ya Allah is baar pass kar de, aglay saal pakka parhain ge!" is kind of redundant, and almost embarrassing considering that we made it to final year, and never once kept that promise. Sad.

I was talking to Durre about how I should write a book called 'How to get a good thing going and then ruin it". Because, you should play to your strengths and apparently that's what I'm good at. Unlike things like talking. To actual people. And not "hollowing them out" as I do apparently. Sigh.

Operative is the tackiest subject. There are six (yes, six!) books to be consulted that Ghole and I went and bought very eagerly at the start of the year (december, last year) and then proceeded to forget all about them as we trudged along through all the various quotas (five of which we still have to submit, aaaaarrrrghhhh)

Soooo, that's about it. I think I'll go study some endo now. I am focis!


Disclaimer: This is not a plea for attention. 

I’m not a very bright person at all. I’ve often harangued myself with the notion that all my milestones are delayed to an extent. Add to that the social awkwardness from 22 years in the pod and this pea still doesn’t know jack about the world or our lives and the parts we’re all supposed to play.

The past forty eight hours have been rather rollercoaster-y. I’m not prepared to talk about them. What I am ready for however is to dive back into the past, even though I know it’s largely unhealthy and another step in the undulation of the pendulum that leads nowhere. But right now, nowhere seems better than here. Which is why the prodigal son returns to the blogosphere once more, to fuel his narcissism and send strangers on the internet into virtual comas by boring them with incessant details of his pointless existence. Only this time, he shall be trudging along that lonely road which is writing for yourself.

God, he sounds bitter. Here's a picture of a Jharoo in his hand to make up for it.

The hostel tabby is a good friend. Needless to say, Sajeel was a bit hurt when a week back, she decided to skip her favourite spot under his desk, and have kittens in the room-next-door. However, a week later, one unsuspecting Saturday night, Sajeel opens his cupboard and gets the shock of his life.

Well, since Miss Tabbykins here had always been good to Sajeel and given him company in many a lone moment, Sajeel cleared out some space for the babies and her. And she settled down comfortably to feed her little ones. And Sajeel settled back with a good book and some chilled Pineapple tang.

Until he noticed the stench.

At first Sajeel thought he should have invested in that cat litter when he had the chance. (clumped or non-clumped, who really cares?) However, Murphy's laws seemed to have grappled on to their chance and it was then that Sajeel discovered the existence of a fourth, dead kitten.

An old tub was then procured, and the mewling kittens transferred via Sajeel's unused tennis racket as momma-cat hissed and cried (and Sajeel sobbed a little too), and then the extra glove in Sajeel's lab coat came in handy and the poor soul was carried out and handed over to the guard to be buried.

And that was the end of Solomon Grundy. May he rest in peace.
'What happens at an orthodontist's bachelor party? Proximal stripping!' 
~ @harisghole, wiggling his funny bone.

When Anoush went all Gossip Girl on me.

Riddles in the Dark.

What has roots as nobody sees,
Is taller than trees,
Up, up it goes,
And yet never grows? 
One of Gollum's riddles for Bilbo. The answer is "mountain". 

Thirty white horses on a red hill,
First they champ,
Then they stamp,
Then they stand still. 
One of Bilbo's riddles for Gollum. The answer is "teeth". 

Voiceless it cries,
Wingless flutters,
toothless bites,
Mouthless mutters. 
One of Gollum's riddles for Bilbo. The answer is "wind". 

It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills.
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter. 
One of Gollum's riddles for Bilbo. The answer is "dark". 

A box without hinges, key, or lid,
yet golden treasure inside is hid. 
One of Bilbo's riddles for Gollum. The answer is "egg". 

Alive without breath,
As cold as death;
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail never clinking. 
One of Gollum's riddles for Bilbo. The answer is "fish". 

This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down. 
One of Gollum's riddles for Bilbo. The answer is "time".

Sinful days, Freakshows and Knights who say Ni.

This is what happens when we play Wordfeud all day.

In my defence, how was I to know that songs had been sung in my memory?! #bollywoodoblivious
"I wanted to tell you something yesterday but you were pissed and I was scared.
You need to aim for the head. That's how you kill a zombie."
 ~ Z

Six Seven Zero.

Somehow, Sajeel is sad, minions.

As if you have a choice.

Today's realization. The new (or a year old now) Principal is the best thing that ever happened to my college in a long long time. If I could, I'd clone him and replace all the people in the stupid college with him.

Also, feast your eyes upon an awesome Adam's clasp that the demonstrator approved, but still doesn't feel right. Ortho is love, minions.
p.s. Ran into a bench today and nearly broke both my legs. Let's hope it's a sign!

Toot Siyah.

Ghole: Suggest a name for the magazine.
Me: Could it be something to do with the Badshahi mosque?
Ghole: No. Suggest a name currently on the list. *sends list*
Ghole: Could be like?
Me: Well I don’t know! I’m not the bloody sub editor!
Me: And congratulate the idiot who came up with D and D zine, would you.
Me: How about tootsiyah? No idea what it means but it sounds nice.
Me: Wait, that’s the name of a qurshi sharbut. -____-
Ghole: Dewaan-e-dandaan!
Me: That!
Me: Dammit, the ideas that you get from thinking on my wavelength.

Survivor’s Guilt.

Here’s the situation. While the bloody result seems to have fallen prey to the big bad wolf and left us hapless souls to plod on aimlessly, we (the great minds that are Sajeel and I) have nothing but our large noses to blame for missing a clause from some laws that could’ve saved us three whole years down the road. Precious time that could’ve/should’ve been spent preparing for what we ought to have learned in the first two years, so we too could be leaving on a jet plane right now, away from the kettles and the pots and the storms in the teacups, and the madness that has us enveloped thus.

So countless back-seat superfluous discussions later, here we are.  The end of the bloody rainbow in sight, fingers crossed, we begin to dig.