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...

…..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”, ...

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...

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 expectations...

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...