There Ain’t Many Bosads

Friends are difficult to get but friends like Bosad are impossible. The difficulty in having such friends isn’t because of their friendliness (which I doubt if it has been of any use to me) but because of their innate characteristics that make them so special (or rather different). Here I would like to pen down what I have studied about this rare individual in last three and a half year. My style: I have quoted our man’s insightful conversations with Akshai, another good friend of mine, but for totally different reasons (I have introduced him later). I have also written down my interpretation of his words and my understating of his behavior and tried to explain (with my limited knowledge) his confused or rather puzzled state of mind. I hope my understanding will be helpful to all those unfortunates, who couldn’t meet this atypical individual.

Akshai(claims himself as Axe, this rather unpopular alias of our quite popular friend was kept by his schoolmates, whose funda, for some reasons he wouldn’t disclose) asks our man “Bosad, where is Lahore?”
Now our man always avoids intellectual discussions, according to him he hates burning his abundant grey cells (after all it’s being burnt, his funda “the lesser you use, the more you save”). He makes a grumbling noise and tries to change the topic to intellectually less challenging ones. But after much persistence from Akshai he restores to a blank expressionless face. (Our man thinks a blank face might give an idea about his superior knowledge).
Akshai(in his usual mood to rape our friend) “ okk!! I give you a hint. It’s in south east Asia, Malaysia right??” The expressions on our friend’s face completely changes. As if a wave of thoughts have struck him. His eyes widen and his eye brow twitches. After much physical displays of intelligence (as what’s apparent) he shouts,” I know it’s in California”. The possible reason of error can be his recent infatuation with California University where he had applied for PhD in Optical Sciences. Never in history of dept. of Materials Sciences of IITM has a person applied for it, but our friends believes in breaking boundaries (but Dabba, another friend of mine claims that our man was tripped by its beautiful site, our man’s words “ a beautiful site promises high-funda dept.”).

His talent to cog. Bosad hasn’t passed a single course in IITM (to the best of my knowledge) without cogging in exams. Even if he knows the answer he will check it twice with others before penning it down. One thing that our man can very aptly teach this world is the different innovative and quite effective ways to copy from other’s papers. (It is one amongst the few things which reflects his ingenuity and his keen sharpness, maybe the grey cells that our man has been saving till date is useful for it)

His mantra in life “sasta sundar tikou”. (To all those who are less gifted in hindi, sasta means cheap sundar beautiful and tikou conveys sturdiness). Our insightful friend uses this phrase wherever and whenever he can possibly use. Quite a lot of times one will find him bulbing ( iitm lingo to describe a state when a person is completely clueless) why in the very first place did he use it.

His gayism. He has a charisma; sexual magnetism that attracts every male towards him. He has scores following him and his fan club keeps on multiplying. To be frank if I turn into a gay he will be the first person, I‘ll propose. His cute little chubby face, slender body and big ass are too much of temptation for any normal person.

I can’t describe my friend completely in my blog, he is too complex. Rest is for my readers to figure out. I have penned down few of his innumerable slapstick remarks

“To be famous one has to be filthy”

“Aliens and computer, both are similar to me”.

One of the excellent feature of our man is his ability to aptly survive on land, air and sea.
If you wanna discover more about this rare individual you can also read Akshai blog (I have provided a link on my page.)

I am enthralled to meet this rare person and I am grateful to God that he gave me this opportunity to know this individual. Though I have still lot more to understand, but I am fortunate I came to know the little that I can. Long Live My Bosad.

The Book Quiz

I recently took a book quiz I spotted on a fellow blogger's blog. Here's what I found

You're Godel, Escher, Bach!
by Douglas Hofstadter

Despite being interested in things like mathematical theory and the secret lives of numbers, you're actually quite popular. You carry on great dialogues, though you keep asking people about their heel. When faced with a flight of stairs, you always have great difficulty knowing where you'll end up, and have been known to consult a calculator. Despite these oddities, what you say is relevant to the future. Though the day Deep Blue beat Kasparov, you sure were surprised!

Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.

Another Brick In The Wall: a story

John pulls down his muddy, knee torn tracksuit in a hurry. ‘What a day it was’, Michel almost broke his back by jumping in jubilation over winning the first final in their club history.

After holding the shorts in his hands he realizes its pathetic condition. Much to blame his goal saving dive to stop the corner hit by Paul, the strongest legs in the tournament. Putting his hands across his head he finds it soaked with sweat. Bringing his fingers before his eyes, he gasped to find few specks of dirt and grass. He almost jumped in excitement, as these were the remnants of the golden header hit by him that conceded the only goal in the unforgettable final.

He gets a stupid grin, a feeling of happiness and proudness. After the match the coach congratulated him for his stupendous performance. This is the first time in the team's history that their coach has so candidly appreciated his players.

Throwing his trousers in triumph he opened his most precious book, The King of Soccer, a biography of Pele, the mentor of his life. Laying those pieces of grass in the book, he closes his wardrobe.

Days passed, months passed, years passed, now John is a successful businessman, he has extended his dad’s business to new heights of competence. During this time every thing in his life has changed, right from his wardrobe to his social circles. Incidentally while taking out his suit from the shelf, his book, Pele drops out. Remembering those sweet memories associated with football, he opens his book and picks those grasses. He still vividly remembers those beautiful days, especially that final match; the sole win of their club in its existence. After their first mesmerizing performance, the best and experienced players started moving out, either to better clubs or other professions and his club was left with amateurs. The club’s performance deteriorated dramatically. John's allowance was bleakly reduced, much to blame the bad monetary conditions of the club. On his father's persistence he left his club and joined his family business. He still remembers the day he officially left, how much he cried and fought with his family. His coach almost pleaded him not to leave. Those were difficult moments in his life but all his vendetta and grudge on the decision to not carry on as a footballer has buried with his childhood aspirations and memories. At that very moment his mobile rings, realizing it as an important call from his client he picks necessary stuff and runs for his office. Unconsciously the book falls from his hand and drops below the wardrobe.

Since then uncountable number of years has passed. Meanwhile his business has collapsed drastically, company shares were sold cheaply. Ultimately he had to sell his company to a better management. He had lost all his endurance and his social circle had dwindled. Traumatized by this sudden calamity, he had lost all his patience and hope. In fact he had even attempted suicide once. His big palace is reduced to a two-room quarter. Months after this mishap he is a bit more settled but has confided himself to his own world of remonstration and dejection, hardly stepping out of his flat or meeting someone.

One afternoon while opening his old wardrobe his spectacles drops down, bending down to pick it he finds a book there. Picking it and rubbing off hard coated dust, he was almost shocked to find it was his childhood dreams, The King of Soccer. Though all his feelings had died months ago, a tear flows down his left eye, down his wrinkled face onto the book and he presses his book to his heart.

Confronting Reality: Anshul’s Experiments With Truth

Most of us have experienced premonitions – a feeling about something that is going to happen – to one degree or another. Mostly it’s a feeling that something bad is going to happen. A premonition is foretelling the future. Sometimes the premonition isn't specific, but just a strong, a great, unexplained feeling of sadness that bothers us every time. Through this article I will try to study the psychological upheaval that goes within a person when he is constantly plagued by this saddening feeling.

A kind of battle goes within him, at the start he is weighed down by the torturous feelings about his future; the sleepless nights when he helplessly waits for his fate. He has difficulty in accepting the inevitable; he tries to ridicule it, the denial, the dissidence and eventually the acceptance.

The same kind of battle can be seen within our friend, Anshul. His problem is his losing hair. Initially it wasn’t much to worry about but with time it has become more and more frequent. Now one can count the number of hair on his head. Just move your hands across his hair and you can see stark white patches. Words are not enough to describe the tormenting feelings our friend is going through. Longs nights one can find him depressed in his room, brooding over his fate. Quite a lot of times I have seen him holding his fallen hair in his hands and kissing them as if they were his kids. There were times when our man used to spend endless hours infront of the mirror caressing his hairs. Now this guy is scared to even look in to the mirror. I have lived beside his room these last three years. And I can’t describe you how bad I feel when I hear him crying all night in his room.

Manu hasn’t been worse in adding salt to his burned bruise, troubled by his hands constantly occupied in scratching his head; more because he can’t attend the phone calls and chat with his innumerable girlfriends together; he shaves off his hair to get a permanent solution to his dandruff problem. Might have been inoffensively done but he goes to show his new outfit to Anshul. One should have seen the look on the face of our man to believe me. He was dumbstruck. His face grew pale and turned blue. He looked as if he is seeing his future in front of his eyes. He had problem breathing, was taking big grasp of air and eventually went inside his room. For the next one week, he wasn’t spotted anywhere in the campus.

I guess god shouldn’t be so harsh on a person. Now fate will decide everything. What he needs is a miracle.

Really, Am I Happy?

Its fading away, I can’t see the light,
I twitch, I crawl, I manage to stand up, I fall,
I am hurt, exhausted, I look around,
I see misery, hounding, creeping slowly to
Envelop me in its profound darkness.

I try to run, to escape, but I can’t,
I howl, I cry, I pray to him,
But I think he has closed his doors,
Or maybe I can’t find it.

I feel a gentle touch; I am no more scared of it,
May be I have accepted my fate.
Suddenly I feel nauseated; I don’t realize what going on,
I feel comfortable, my brain feels numb.

I crash down and I am asleep,
I try to move my hand but I can’t,
Am I dead. No, I can think,
I have thoughts constantly ringing in my ears.

I see an angel floating in the air,
I see my ball, my favorite red ball when I was young.
There I am playing in my father's garden.
Surrounded by flowers. My mother
Is swinging in the see-saw.
My father pushing it. I look very happy.
Suddenly the sky grows dark, covered with
Red colored cloud, color of blood.

The green grass fades, flowers fall,
I am scared, I run; I don’t find my mom,
I am scared and I fall down with my red ball.