If you were walking back to the VIT Girls' Hostel at around six thirty today (or were dropping your better halves/to-be better halves/could-be better halves) you would have noticed as what can only be referred to as bizarre. You would have seen four girls screaming their head off at the trees and plant that line the entire stretch of the pathway back to the hostel. If you paid attention, you could have heard them scream, "You, Intervenal Chlorosis, You", or "Necrotic, you" or the friendlier "Die, Motherfucker, Die". You may have dismissed this as another case of Vellorititis or you may have possibly wondered why.

The answer is this. All these girls were suffering from a nearly terminal illness. And today at five they had found their cure for this cancer.

In other cultures this cure is also known as "The Aftermath of the Plant Physiology Examination".

Lessons learnt about "The Changing New Face of the Indian Woman" from Savita Bhabhi

1. She is always ready for experimentation. Always open to new experiences and challenges--- Old/New, Male/Female and even Global Recession(refer Volume 8)

2. She does not discriminate. Every man or woman is equal irrespective of cast, creed, social standing, occupation and age.

3. The Rolling Stones song "Satisfaction" was originally written for Savita Bhabhi. She just cant get no. Doesn't mean she stops trying.

4. Servicing the community is literally all she lives for. That is what provides her with a purpose--an identity.

5. Oh, and Whatever Happens, its never her fault. Yes, Yes, her conscience always intervenes, but not for long! A hard-on is all it takes to switch it off.

And the Indian Government bans this. Tsk tsk. Whatta violation of women's rights, I say.

I discovered/re-discovered The Kinks tonight.

If I was ever a musician, I just know this would be exactly the kind of music I'd make. Not the kind of music I wish I had made, because THAT list is practically inexhaustible for anyone with a Facebook profile.
It is the kind of music I would make. If I was a musician, that is. Somewhere in a parallel universe they would call me The British Invasion. I'd wear leather capes and boots on stage and try not looking like an ad for a BDSM website. And I'd make happy-crazy-audacious and always, always oddly satisfying music.

And then I'd put on my slippers, and sit by the fire. Cause I'd know I've reached my top and I couldnt get any higher. I'd be in my place and I'd know where I was. In my Shangri-La.

“This,” he says. “This is why The Beatles got it.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following…”

“Other bands, it’s about sex. Or pain. Or some fantasy. But The Beatles, they knew what they were doing. You know the reason The Beatles made it so big?”
“What?”
“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I’ve thought a lot about this.”
“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand,’” I repeat.
“And so you are, my friend. So you are.”

Randomness makes the world a better place. An easier place. A sexier place. Randomness brings together retards annd makes them "special". Randomness makes wilderness and creatures of the night come alive. Randomness makes us anti-social. It makes us pole dance. It makes us sing Rhythm Divine. Makes us observe strange mating rituals and walk into unisex toilets. It makes us find Ladies In the Water. Apparently it also leads to Tango. It leads to aimless walks amidst Barns against backdrops of rain-lit skies. It leads to scarilicious eyes, disoriented 'orientations', single malt whiskies and intoxicating slushes. Randomness causes Lone Wolves to answer questions about Sex Positions at 4 in the night, and about brilliant retards at a 'more suitable time for girls'. It also causes myriad renditions of Na na na nananana which would put George, Paul and Co. to shame. Randomness reasons out One Spot, Jump Down, The Knife, Sssss and charading into the night. It makes sense of Condoms and Chewing Gum. It also gives meaning to being perpetually stoned apparently. And horrible V for Vendetta-like(or the eponymous version) sunburns. It takes us to Samudra Permit rooms. It makes us appreciate subtlety or the lack of it. And the various kinds of girls there are. It makes us make poor comebacks and talk till sunrise. And sometimes, once in a while, it makes us silent. And then it overwhelms us.

And just then it leaves. Quietly, shadily, mysteriously. And if you look at it as it walks away, it might just resemble a blue bus with headlights vanishing into the night.

So I'm back Helloring. Posts shall get frequenter with advent of new technology called Wireless. On happy days(i.e. Thursday and Friday) I shall sleep till 12. I shall also have crazy ass prof whose sex ed classes make the paavam girls in my class do "the roll your eyes scandalously" routine. I shall also have studmacha boydom in my class shouting Mr. India songs in Plant Physio class. I shall also have "Wear a labcoat and evade the Warden" strategy planning sessions. And welcome back into my life the Teen Deviyan, The Non-Single One, and the One with the Cyst. And the unneeded experience of the inexperienced. And the nautanki of dramatics and the people in it. And the continuous recharges. And a new roomsharer.
And most of all hail the Return of Grape Juice.

And "icebreaking".

:D

Things are leaving me increasingly disillusioned.

1.I just found out the House theme song is called Teardrop. I mean, really? Doesn't House have a conscience, but at all?

2. Michael Jackson died. Now where will all the jokes go?? :(

The children are glad, though. Some of them might just have a chance at a normal childhood now.

3. There are way too many people creating How Well Do You Know Me quizzes on Facebook.

Fine! I'll admit it. I've thought about it more than once.

4.The Mummy in Tamil actually has seeds and leechers on Mininova.

Lots of them. That's scary beyond belief.

5. I have started following a serial on a Bengali satellite channel. Its about a girl who willingly marries a retard and has some divine connection with the Goddess Durga.

Now I am scaring myself.

Also. My mom has a more active social life than me.


I rest my case.