Cranberry Sauce

I am sad. But I am not quite sure about the origin of my sadness, nor its magnitude. I wonder if I’m sad or depressed, or very sad or very depressed. It has a sense of finality about it – like the end of an era, or the end of all hope. The only thing that comes to my mind when I think of nostalgia now is nitesh jain. To say my life has spiraled downward into apathetic degeneration would be just too dramatic and quite unreal. I can feel the life slip out of my hands, but to make things better (or worse) it’s as if I’ve been administered an overdose of tranquilizers to ease the pain. What I have then, is the sight of my slow, methodical amputation by my own hands, before my own eyes, while the rest of my useful faculties lie gagged and anesthetized so that I can see my own pain, but yet not feel it. Anticlimactic culmination is again too strong a phrase to use, this feeling is soft, innocuous, numb… brutally agonizingly incapacitating, but comfortable in its execution. Like a painless de

Forgive me this one time, this wont happen again I wont let my thoughts run free, the way they would I wont let my desires fuel, the way they once did And then again, and then again I wont dream of having your body in my arms, again Your slender figure, your delicate curves, your smooth skin, your anxious moulds I wont long to see the crystal gleam in your eyes Your eyes............................ I wont dream of your moist lips on mine The sweet summer taste of honey and lime I wont ache to smell your bountiful tresses Or stroke my crude hands over your tantalizing silken mane The strands of strength will be mine no more O, Where will I hide without the cosy shelter of your hair I wont crave for your reassuring gentle touch That still sends scintillating shivers down my spine I wont…. Ask you to be my princess, my whore My one, my only, my heart, my soul I wont desire again to be your man Your savior, your hero, your master, your owner I wont ever again be your fortress against infil

…..And there's nothing wrong with me This is how I'm supposed to be In a land of make believe That don't believe in me….. “Malls: Where people make believe, where escape from reality is cool, where individual identities are conveniently camouflaged in social swarms” – this is what I texted a dear friend last evening. I was at a mall with my family. It was a Sunday evening. I wondered whether the place was reminiscent more of a Virar local at peak rush or a toddler fancy dress competition. There seemed to be an odd, unspoken mutual need for all those people to be there – maybe to reassure each other of their existence. By themselves, they felt like lost strangers, but together they represented the majority of purposeful rationalism. We went to the furniture and lifestyle store(y), then to the apparels outlet – a shame-inducing collection of what the definition of fashion (and hence society) is today, inspired of course by our own dons and divas of the film “industry”,

Caution: The f ollowing discussion is wrought for football (soccer?) fans, especially those in favor of a club by the name Manchester United. Viewer discretion recommended. A long ball was launched up to Rooney and he took it down with a great touch, turned, and with the Arsenal defense backing off, hit an unbeatable curling shot into the top corner to send Goodison wild. Everton had won, Arsenal’s unbeaten run was over, and Rooney had arrived. Always searching for the sound bite, commentator Clive Tyldesley exclaimed “ Remember the name: Wayne R ooney ! ” That was October2002 – he was only 16 then. Wayne Rooney signed for the Reds two seasons later after a staggering £27m tra nsfer. In September 2004 , he scored a hat trick on his United debut. He was only 18 then. Since then, he has scored some truly memorable goals for united including the scorcher volley against Newcastle , the chip against Portsmouth , the late, late winner against Milan . Besides, he has gone through thr

An excerpt from the book “Experiments with People” An interesting feature of the psychological immune system is that to operate effectively it must operate discreetly. This raises an interesting question: Is psychological well-being associated with the accurate perception of reality or with a distorted perception of it? The traditional view is that contact with reality is essential for mental health. As the old one-liner goes, neurotics build castles in the air, psychotics live in them, and psychotherapists collect the rent. The alternative view is that, given how inhospitable reality is, human beings cannot bear too much of it. They must therefore endorse comforting illusions in order to function effectively. In an influential article, Taylor and Brown proposed that three classes of positive illusion promote mental health: holding overly flattering views of oneself, overestimating one's personal control, and being unreasonably optimistic about the future. The fact that most

Individuality is no less than a definitive feature of Independence , ensuing growth and prosperity; and identity is the basis of individuality. Without an identity, there can be no Individuality, no Independence and no progress. The identity of our beloved campus has been seeded, nurtured and cocooned by our mother campus BITS Pilani, to whom we shall be forever indebted hence grateful. We have been bosomed with bountiful love and patronizing care. The dutiful, condescending restriction, in the name of brand preservation has inevitably taken its toll on our freedom of expression. More than one of us feels stifled under this throttling protection called the “ BITS Pilani brand name.” We feel the need to establish ourselves as an individual, self sufficient and robust institute, a sovereign vital entity, not an ailing, dwarfed sidekick of an antecedently established University. Bottom-line: We need to be proud of our campus, for what it is. Stunted, slipshod, maligned or vulner

The following is the unedited version of the article published for the international youth magazine " Voices ". For the published article, follow the link here The next time you crave for your favorite cheeseburger, imagine this: Nearly half the people in the world live on less than $2 per day, and one billion people live on $1 a day, according to reports by UN-Habitat and the World Bank. Slumdog Millionaire has shown audiences around the world a snapshot of what life is like for one in every six people on this planet. A slum is an area where people live without one or more of life's necessities, characterized by inadequate income, shortage of sufficient food and safe water; and often problems of inadequate housing, even indebtedness. Inadequate public services like piped water, sanitation, drainage, roads, inadequate basic services such schools, health-care, emergency services and public transport. Inadequate protection including laws regarding civil and political righ

I guess it okay, once in a while, to just lay back and enjoy the proceedings around you. Every now and again, something happens that reminds you that the world is, eventually, a good place, and the primary human feeling is happiness and love; not hatred, fear, jealousy, guilt or its byproducts. Little acts of genuine generosity by people; glimpses of natural beauty are good enough for the cynical marathon runner to stand by, smile, relax just that wee bit, and begin running again. This last paragraph is actually a justification for appreciation of beauty, an indicator of the extent to which man today has become business oriented selfish minded. Void main () { On that note I shall embark upon my topic, which is – selfless help; when you need it the most. It’s the true identifier of a friend, when applied as a test for that, and well; when strangers out of the way decide to help you – that’s your sign, your morale booster you needed on your quest to make this world a better p

I guess it okay, once in a while, to just lay back and enjoy the proceedings around you. Every now and again, something happens that reminds you that the world is, eventually, a good place, and the primary human feeling is happiness and love; not hatred, fear, jealousy, guilt or its byproducts. Little acts of genuine generosity by people; glimpses of natural beauty are good enough for the cynical marathon runner to stand by, smile, relax just that wee bit, and begin running again. This last paragraph is actually a justification for appreciation of beauty, an indicator of the extent to which man today has become business oriented selfish minded. Void main () { On that note I shall embark upon my topic, which is – selfless help; when you need it the most. It’s the true identifier of a friend, when applied as a test for that, and well; when strangers out of the way decide to help you – that’s your sign, your morale booster you needed on your quest to make this world a better place, to mak

Welcome to the world. Much of the direction and theme of a written composition is determined by its first couple of lines, and I shall do my best to screw up this particular piece of forced write-up, just like the countless others that have preceded it. Change is what we secretly desire, but change also is the thing we dread the most. The world is a (seemingly) haphazard assortment of spring – mass systems, in seemingly unstable equilibrium, equilibrium because it has inertia and unstable as it has springiness too. The paradox about change is only too well known, but almost never appropriately documented, which perfectly complies with the paradox of change itself. The world can sometimes seem to be standing still, constant and unmoving, almost agonizingly so, the next moment, another facet of the same subject would display mutating volatility, making you doubt your premises and ultimately doubt the world around you, you being the pivot of it, the tool for its cause and the recipient of

Nobody knows whats going on inside Nobody must know whats goin on inside I can subject myself to all sorts of shit And I can swim in the seas of agony And I can kill myself for doing it I can taste sweet, sweet depression I can scale the orgasmic pinnacle of pain And I can swim through and out of my shit And feel good at the end of it And no one will ever know what made me And I will be made I might seem invincible, but i'm not I might seem vulnerable, but i'm not No one will know what can break me And I can be broken But nobody will know how to break me Cause there's only person that could break me And that... is me.

Like it or not, you have surely asked yourself this question some time or the other. I would like to make my stance on this. I find this an extremely daunting task, as I find the weight of a billion odd United supporters on my shoulders; I need to do justice to each one of them – to their love and devotion. Most importantly, I need to do justice to my own love – if I define it, the definition must be perfect. I support Manchester United. No wait, I LOVE Manchester United; And it is not for not for sale. Over the course of the next 500 words or so, I will try and convince you why. Just for the record, it is extremely difficult to define just why you love what you love, it will be a shame if you have to justify to yourself someday why exactly you love your mother or girlfriend. First, let me introduce you to my idea of love. According to me, beauty = love = pain = pleasure. What you find beautiful you love and vice versa. Love burns a hole in your heart, it gives you pain, it makes you f

Millions of people die everyday, hungry of affection, attention or even recognition. The comfortably numb society is on a world take-over spree. The gravitational pull decreases everyday, every second. “blind” is the latest fashion trend- that people can’t see anyway. Entropy is a form of currency. Freedom is taboo, slavery’s pop. It’s a loss to both, the devil and angel. Exception and acceptance have parted ways. Hitler and Teresa are in disbelief and dismay. Peter keating is our new superhero. The earth is firm on its foundations, how I wish it would crumble. The chaos generates a low grade silence, that deafens beyond repair. Life is a chess game with the outcome same for both, if only it went to a penalty shootout. So have a good drown, as you go down……… All alone… dragged down by the stone.

What are we here for again? Moreover, where did that vision of whatever we are supposed to do go that we started updating and watching Google Talk messages? The society today is becoming weaker by the day. Weaker in the sense that we depend on each other more with every passing moment, and the depravation from human contact even for a couple of minutes is beginning to become a dark, scary prospect that nobody seems to want to explore. Whether its going together for classes, or to eat or to play a game or sport or finish an assignment, the world is being pulled, literally, to doing it with each other. Even in their most alone moments, people today are chatting on Gtalk or abusing each other on DC. I admit that my life and observations are limited to BITS-Pilani, Goa ONLY as of now, but isn’t the same applicable elsewhere too? We are getting more and more used to being in the comfort of other people (when a bit of introspection would reveal it is not a comfortable state of being at all).

<7even> Hello, ladies! I'm Soumyadeep aka 7even. I'm a straight-forward guy with a terrific sense of humour and a working pair of feet. I'm interested in attending the Salsa Workshop, but only if I have the company of a sweet charming lady - someone just like you. So, if you are interested, do PM me! An extremely abominable but true situation for some 1000 guys in campus (200 are going out with the 200 girls in campus, 500 dont care and 200 like each other). The lonelines and insecurity among the single (and fast getting desperate) guys just escalates every day, every sem, with seemingly no hope for gratification in the near future. Its on days like valentine's day, Salsa workshops and DJ nights when this hopelessness really goes overboard, and climaxes into depression, cynicism, envy or even pure hatred. They (we) are constantly eyeing the fifty odd girls (i wouldn't call them chicks/babes) in campus that are still single, having fancied EACH one of them. The

Have you ever considered it embarrassing, even shameful, to walk to the garbage can and dump your glass of Coke when you're "chillin" out' with friends. It just doesn't fit with the definition of cool, does it? Its just so much more hep to just fling it on the pathway; and if it's an empty bottle, its sooo cool to kick it far, show off some football skills. Ever taken a smoke just 'cause everyone around's doing it too. You wouldn't wanna be an outcast, would you. Who cares about parents, they can't see you here now can they. Besides, its the coolest thing to do on earth... just look at all the Hollywood celebs smokin' away to glory; hell its a style statement, it might even serve as the perfect stimulus for that exxxtra effort or that groundbreaking brainwave that you're about to have, that will set you apart from the rest. Ever made up with a guy/gal just because everyone around has one too? Ah you don't care how much time or money

Is it a landmark achievement, or is it something we should have won a long time back. Are we supposed to feel patriotic for a movie that was not even made for Indian audiences? Is this the right time to make more movies 'tailormade' for Hollywood, or is it time when we show the finger to our auto-plagiarists Mr. Akshay Kumar, Mr. Shahrukh I-Am-The-Most-Charming-Man-In-The-World Khan and Miss Cute-And-Bubbly Katrina Kaif. Isnt this the time that we finally get over our obsession of producing and watching unrealistic and intellectually retarding comedy/romance and get down to making some real movies. And God, can we please get rid of Mr Reshammiya, Mr Anu Malik and Miss hot and spicy Rakhi Sawant. You're only fooling yourselves people- get out of the loop for once. Hell yes, Academys/Oscars are one of the most sane award ceremonies, but don't you still have Stacy Ferguson and Yoyoyo 50 cent performing for those, not to forget the 'men' - Enrique Iglesias, Justin T