A Raindrop

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 9:54 PM

0


The raindrop, when it was young,
Had a rather juvenile dream:
To grow old and strong and flow, one day,
Like his first-born cousin Susie,
Into the Mighty Mediterranean

He worked night and day, the lad,
And pushed his limits further,
Till one day he saw beyond
The silver lining, and thought,
To himself he'd finally made it

And as he waived goodbye and jumped,
Off the cloud in which he was raised,
He felt he would hold on the dream
He had as a little one,
And find Susie swimming gleefully
Amidst the Mighty Mediterranean...

    And as he fell with great speed
The windy ruckus came to a halt,
And with a splash, he landed on
A patch of dirty water on the ground.



X-x-X

A Killer With Demands

| Posted in , , , , , , , | Posted on 9:52 PM

0

   Science is a crafty killer. You'll never find evidence on the scene of the murder.
  I don't want to ramble about science anymore. I'd rather study physics; that'll probably ease up on the guilt factor and the bitchiness.
  Lots of my friends have told me I'm acting like a snobby bitch after taking up science by not talking to them. That is sad. It's not like I don't try though. It's just that, well, Science is pretty demanding. It's like a mistress; and the deal with mistresses is that they want attention all the time they're around, because they know they aren't going to be around for long. But that's where Science is a step ahead: it's always around. If you're reading this with any concentration, you'd have noticed I've spellt science with a capital 'S'. That is done in an attempt to personify it. As a killer. With demands.
  And you know the thing with demanding killers right? You don't fulfill their demands, you get killed.
  I haven't written anything good in freaking ages. I thought I'd write a poem in English class, but somehow I was cajoled into solving chemistry sums while our teacher rambled on incessantly at a pitch that could deafen even dolphins.
  Our English book has a creative writing section at the very end. There was this one exercise in which you had to write a 4-line poem on something. I smiled to myself as I read, and when one of my classmates saw me flipping through the creative writing section, he gave me a baffled look; like something one would give to a duck trying to fly. Or better yet, a walking mosquito. Why waste time walking when you can fly?
  Needless to say, most of the science folks aren't particularly in touch with their right brain, but that's okay. They're almost gripped their left ones.
  It has also come to my notice that I don't really read a lot of books, I can hardly classify myself as a good guitarist, and when it comes to science, I'm just a plain wannabe.
  So I probably won't end up being a majorly succesfull author. Or a musician. And chances are, I won't end up in IIT either. Damn, I'm headed towards abject failure. Then what the hell am I doing now, and will continue to, for the next two years? Minimizing damages.
  Speaking of damages, for the past few days in the zero-period, I've been singing and playing guitar all at once. It's fun. Tremendous fun. I know now why Clapton and Hendrix and all those singer-guitarists choose to both sing and play guitar: they don't need someone to sing PLUS it's freaking awesome! Although I'd say for the people around me it's nothing less than a catastrophe; and I do thank them from the bottom of my heart.
  And after I'm done making disastrous music which is fun nevertheless, I have to make a run for Physics class. Usually. And in the Physics practical lab, something happens to the time-space continuum. Time travels dreadfully slow. Seriously.
  VMC classes haven't even started yet. This summer vacation I'll spend more time in VMC then I will inside my house I guess. Or well, atleast roughly. And here's the reason why I'm even MORE screwed:


No Report Present. Yet.
   I have this feeling that the next two years are going to be hard. Much, much harder than the hard rock that I've treated my ears to all these years, but that's irrelevant right?
  Sigh.
  

  So, until I get more frustrated or have an idea to expand upon,
  Adios.

Stoichiometry And Other Weird Sounding Words

| Posted in , , , , , , , , , , | Posted on 12:22 AM

0

   Science, science, science. Yes, it does take a toll on you. It took a toll on me along with the pen that I was writing with. :/
   Stoichiometry sounds weird right? I still haven't figured how to pronounce it correctly. Is it staw-she-o-metry or stowa-kee-o-metry? The first one sounds cooler so that's how I say it. But it's the world of science, the infinite, infinite world of science, so how you pronounce something is irrelevent in comparison to its relevence. If the scientists had their way, there'd probably only one language in this world, and all its letters would be weird greek symbols. Not alphabets, mind you. Symbols.
   Anyhow, Molarity is actually a stoichiometric concept. For one you'd think it's just, 'Morality,' misspelt, but no. And to top it off, there's ANOTHER stoichiometric concept, which I fondly refer to as the brother of Molarity, called Molality. One might think it is just, again, 'Morality,' misspelt; like with an 'l' instead of an 'r', but NO! Moving on, there's yet another stoichiometric concept, which I refer to as the elder brother to both Molarity and Molality, called Normality. This is the least wierdest sounding stoichiometric concept (there's mole fraction, mass fraction and mass percentage too, but they're like litte kids compared to these). And why wouldn't it be? For one, it's called, 'Normality,' and any instance of it sounding 'not-normal' would be ironic.
   Moving further on, acids have a property called basicity and bases have a property called acidity. No, you did NOT misread. All ACIDS have a property called BASICITY and all BASES have a property called ACIDITY. This right here, folks, is one of the reasons why science is paradoxical. Not theoretically as much as literally, but still. And now for the funniest thing I read that's been stuck in my head for a while and will be for a long time to come because it just is THAT FUNNY:

For a mono-basic acid and a mono-acidic base, Normality = Molarity.
   Well, it's probably not THAT FUNNY. But still. It's paradoxical and there's this thing with normality and molarity and... well, it probably isn't even funny at all. But you see what we science students have to live with? Do you now understand the plight of the science student? This is a bit too dramatized, this whole science student deal, but it is fun nonetheless. But if that above statement made sense to you, then it's no freaking big deal because this stuff is just basic. I mean, easy.
   And now treading the horrifying paths of Physics, guess what is the weirdest sounding term I've encountered lately? Viscosity. It sounds like the name of an Egyptian God, or maybe Greek, I'm not that bright mythologically speaking. And it is denoted by η (Eta, pronounced ee-ta). Now, Eta is like the estranged daughter of Viscosity and she has a distant brother who goes by the symbol θ (yes, you guessed it! Theta!) And the only reason why Eta is denoted by an 'n' with a longer stem and Theta by a circle with a halfway cut is because, well, they're distant siblings. They seperated when they were really young. Over time, Eta grew up to be much more cooler than Theta, hence the cooler symbol.

The awesomeness of Viscocity.

   Science can be fun too, ya know.
   :)
   X-x-X
  
   I finished an assignment on stoichiometry before I typed this out, so I DO NOT FEEL GUILTY NOW! YAY! :D

Atrocities

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 12:00 AM

1

  My mind can't process things now. 
  Not that I ever had a Core i3 in my head or anything, but I'm even more slower(yes, two superlatives) now than I've ever known myself to be. 
  You know, it's sad when you come to realize that there is a lot of sadness in this world. Much greater sadness than that of being dumped by someone, much greater sadness than that of not having scored a satisfying percentage, much greater sadness than that of not having what you want. And these aren't merely saddening things; they're atrocities. And even if none of the atrocities ever happen to you, it remains far from not having an impact on you.
  What if the last time you get to see your father is when you're 16 years old? Or when you're 8 years old and you're running late for school, and your dad drops you off... what if that's the last time you ever get to say goodbye to him? So much for a last goodbye, huh? And how would you feel when you realize your life is not another novel with a 'fiction' tag on it?
  Ironically, one of my friends used that very word, atrocities, to describe my singing.
  What a revolting thought.
__________________________________________________________________________________


  This shall maintain by belief in the sanctity of the written word; never in my life would I have been able to speak these words. Ever.


  May their souls rest in peace. 


__________________________________________________________________________________

The Zombie Apocalypse

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 12:19 AM

0



I

The zombies rose steady and fast
To plummet down the hill
And to eat the brains of living humans
Whom they'd without reluctance kill

Said Zombie Mark to Zombie Jack,
'Why fellow do you look so sore?'
'I don't know,' shot back Jack quick,
'I've never faced a gun before'

'Now don't you fear, Jack dear,'
Said Mark, 'Those humans have poor aim
'And even if we reach them without arms
'We'll enjoy them all the same'

And with this Mark marched on,
And so did Jack, through the grass
Many wells and lakes and empty houses
Did from under them pass...

They met with other troops and marched
As more houses came in to view
The humans were upto their necks in fear,
As the zombies sure weren't few...

Three rows next to his,
And standing seventh in line,
He someone he hadn't expected to
In such a terrible time

They delved further into the city
And the humans grew more close
Jack almost stopped as he had seen
The love of his life, his Rose...


II

He'd seen her first at a fair,
A red bow pinned to her head
And if he weren't already,
He was sure he would drop dead

He dreamt of her and sought to say
'Miss you're so pretty I have been smitten
'And here I have for you ma'am,
'A brutally murdered kitten'

But by the time he got the gift,
The miss was out of sight
And poor, miserable Jack was left
In a poor, miserable plight

He enjoyed the kitten by himself
But it wasn't as good as it could be
So he grabbed a golden watch from a human
For the miss to see...

He approached the miss with caution,
And she said her name was Rose,
And on receiving the watch from him,
Jack thought he was the one she chose

But Rose's hand was in Zombie Dave's
All touchy, close and intertwined,
And Jack's stone-cold heart broke into pieces
And he pined and pined and pined...

He still felt a lot for Rose, and with Dave
He thought to pick a bone
But for her happiness, he reconsidered
And left them both alone...

III


She looked the same with gritty teeth
And her skull was now without a bow
Somewhere on her way there,
It fell and was crushed by a toe

The alarm then, had grown deeper;
The humans came to attack
And amidst all the love and anger
Jack tried his best to not crack

The humans were in abundance, everywhere
There was now a commotion on land
And making his way through the bustling crowd
He could grab his Rose's hand

As if on cue, the commotion cleared
He was left with his Rose alone,
And her hand in his felt so warm,
It almost melted his bones

He wanted to confess his love
But the words he could not utter;
Instead came grunts an unformed syllables
And he was left in a recurring stutter...

Jack's bones broke off as Rose jumped afar,
And he had again failed to say,
So he cursed the human who had shot him
From a few metres away...

Rose attacked the human who had fired
As Jack then writhed in pain
He fired another as Rose tore his head
And ate up the human's brains

The shot hit Jack and off broke his head
And Jack then writhed in pain
Rose took no notice, and was rather busy
Gobbling down the human's brains...

X-x-X

Perfection Is Trivial / Brain Damage

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 10:51 PM

0

  I'm not in a particularly happy mood.
  I'm having misanthropic feelings. No, it's not another random word picked up from the dictionary. It means hatred for the human species. Or well, in essence it does.
  Humans suck. Hard.
  They're inefficient, they have feelings, and they eat for taste! Can you imagine not eating for taste! DAMN! Zebras and worms and animals - all of them eat just to freaking live! AND WHAT DO WE DO!? Spend a million bucks on food that is made exactly according to our preferences because we humans are just that freaking demanding! I'm not saying everyone does this, though. Let's not even talk about the darker side, I'm not in that sort of a mood. Eh. These feelings pass away in about, like, really short amounts of time.
  Like now, I don't hate humans so much. I just hate my brain. Or something. Meh. I don't even know.
  For my next life, I wish I end up a dog. Wait, no, I'm one in this life too. Nevermind. So then, I guess I'll choose to be a giraffe. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? I'll get eaten by a lion. Or maybe a bunch of lions. They'll tear my flesh apart slowly, and take turns sipping and licking my delicious, warm blood. And if that doesn't happen, I'll spend my life peacefully searching for a mate, hoping to beat other giraffes with some kind of genetic edge(genetic drift et natural selection) and happily chewing on tasteless grass.
  But isn't it weird that humans can NEVER be perfect? I mean, NEVER do they get to be perfect to everyone. Damn relativity. They can't even please everybody. Most humans end up pleasing tons more people than others, but that's just because... well... get the drift? Humans, however, do end up perfecting certain qualities. And they possess the quality to screw that up at times, too - thanks to their hormones, vices, and who freaking knows what. To explain concisely, drunk guitarists. Perfection is trivial, anyway. 
  Bleh.
  I haven't written anything good in a really long while. I want to write something about zombies. That'd be cool. I like zombies. They're awesome. And they're dead. A few of them are also called undead, but that's just retarded - they don't have a beating heart; so in biological terms, they're dead. I'm not much of a biologist, but I know this much.
__________________________________________________________________________________
   
  I happened to listen to the whole of Pink Floyd's Dark Side Of The Moon album.
  It's freaking awesome, to say the least.
  Two songs in particular, played in order continuously, kill me from the inside; not in a sad way but a nice way. Sounds corny, yeah. But no, seriously. Listen to it and you'll know. One's called Brain Damage, and the other one's Eclipse.
  I shall warn you beforehand. This is no song for the faint-hearted or the commercial clown. 
  Here...

Favourite lyrical bit:
The lunatic is in my head
  You raise the blade, you make the change
  You re-arrange me 'till I'm sane
(Brain Damage)
.
.
.
And everything under the sun is in tune
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon
(Eclipse)


  It's possibly just the song, but I really feel like I should be at a mental hospital or a psychiatric ward. You know, just to move around and look about and everything. Plus, they'd treat me like who I really am too. Moreover, I'd really want to meet a psychoanalyst. Psychoanalysts are really cool, I'd love to be one someday. For the while, though, I'd settle for being just psycho.


X-x-X

Hello Vectors!

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 11:58 PM

2

   I made new friends today. Well, it's been a long while I've been hanging with them and I still haven't figured if it's them who need my friendship or the other way round. Just in case you were wondering, they're called Vector and Scalar. One seems to be real simple(but isn't) and the other's a two-faced bitch. Both of them have products, too. A weird bunch, them dudes, really weird.
  To add to the misery of having made new friends that I'll probably have to remember for AT LEAST the next two years, my phone's battery attempted suicide. Which is just... sad. 
  Anyway, I'm still proud to say I did one thing in my holidays following the examinations that might ACTUALLY make a difference in my life: Studied Introduction To Vectors And Forces. That alone does make me happy. At least I'm freaking trying! I also started writing articles for Epigram Magazine, but the path I'm treading doesn't exactly have much to do with writing. I mean, yes if  you're talking weird Greek symbols, but otherwise, not really.
  So, yeah, other than that, nothing much. Just shit.
  I had a passionate discussion about Science with one of my bestest friends. He's a self-proclaimed atheist, and here's the conversation we had. (It's paraphrased)


Me: Dude, I went over the Physics Module. Some shit it is. 
Anish: I just returned from Physics tuition, man.
Me: Oh. Eleventh grade tuitions started already?
Anish: Yeah. 
Me: Oh. What did you study? Vectors?
Anish: Neh. Logarithms. It's not in the syllabus but they said it's important.
Me: Oh. Okay.
Anish: Numbers are now BOTH positive and negative.
Me: Nice. You know, Tighten Up by The Black Keys is going to be my anthem for the next
      two years.
Anish: Yeah? Why?
Me: Yeah. I'll sing, "I wanted love! I needed love! But I got Science instead!"
Anish: Haha. Yeah man. No wonder science students end up being hornier than the rest.
Me: I'll be able to vouch for that in exactly two years, man; so would you. And I don't 
      know if that's a good thing. 
Anish: True that. You know what? I wish God is real. 
Me: Why?
Anish: Because then, all science is wrong.
Me: Hmmm...
Anish: Think about scientists too, man! All of them must be rotting in hell.
Me: If hell's full of scientists, there's no way we're going there!
Anish: Haha! Let's hope. 


  We then discussed a little about Calculus, but mostly we discussed about how we were royally screwed. 
  Yeah, pretty much.
  I hope I have a happy tenure with Vectors, and Kinematics of Particles, Particles in Equilibrium and whatnot. And yes, Integration. I honestly hope I don't feel like disintegrating myself when I'm doing Integration. Jeez, I'd just rather do inflatable balloons. Okay, no, Integration sounds better.
  Sigh.
  Hope I am alive this same day in 2013. But technically, it won't be the same day and... 
  GODDAMMIT!


This has something to do with Kinematics. (O_o)

X-x-X



Business Of Emotions

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 8:29 PM

2

How must I feel?
Tell me,
Oh Lord Of Feelings,
For I do not know how to feel
Anymore.

A tear would be
Too expressive; emotional
And shutting up,
Too immature...
Cursing blatantly would,
Again, be juvenile
While being unperturbed 
Would just be rude...

Would you care to tell me,
Oh Lord Of Feelings,
Why it is hard to justify
How one feels?
Sadness, euphoria and anxiety
All have their own causes
But how do you justify love?
Or extreme anger or hatred,
Be it for a lover, a dog, or a friend?

I don't know about you, pal
But it seems to be most strange
That there is no explanation
For what we tend to feel 
More often than the rest,
And for why I should,
In my right mind, 
Not think of the whole 
Business of emotions to be
A sham...

Trust me on this one, pal 
And chances are you wont,
When I say
I'd be happier than
What you'd be
If I stand corrected.

The blackboard of feelings. 

X-x-X



Unrequited

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 8:39 PM

0

   I wrote this, like, 5 months back. I don't have any more heart in it to edit it or anything, so I'll just post it as it was. :D


Unrequited

   The tuition center had always been a place for him to go and study, and to learn something. So naturally, he felt guilty, if not angry, on having found someone to look at during classes lest he felt bored.
   She wasn't anybody too attractive. Nobody who'd suddenly catch your eye. But yet there she used to be, third row center, and he looked at her whenever he could. He knew he wanted to, and for a change, he didn't mind if at all it was a wrong thing to do.
   He first saw her when their teacher asked her to stand up to answer a few questions. So he looked at her for her response. And he looked at her again; this time without a reason. And he found himself looking at her again. Three times within the time span of her answering a few questions. He found it strange to have done something of the sort. And still, he found himself looking at her, and wanting to look at her, again. And again. And again.
   Slowly and steadily, his interest in her grew. Without tilting his head - owing to his sitting at the back most of the time - he saw her looking at the teacher with a tinge of hope and a glint of anxiety as the papers were being distributed. He saw her smiling vividly, when their teacher cracked a joke. He saw her brush her hair back lightly with her hands, and light reflecting wildly off a ruby she wore on her ring finger. He saw her answering all the questions asked to her by their teacher, without doubt. And he saw her analyzing, with utmost concentration, a physics numerical that she couldn't crack, biting her lips with subdued uneasiness.
   He never talked to her. He never wanted to. He thought it'd break the image of perfection he had of her in his head. So, he never made any attempts. Consciously.
   He knew it wasn't love. It wasn't even an innocent infatuation they way he saw it. Not even a compulsive obsession.
   But whatever it was, it was unrequited.
   * * *
   Before one of their test papers started, the invigilator there made her sit next to him. He flustered and his heart beat violently like a tribal drum when she sat down near him. He wanted the centimeters between them to increase into inches and meters and kilometers, wanting not to get distracted, but there she was - sitting right next to him. He focused all his concentration on the paper, and attempted it with all his heart - ignoring the pleas of his mind to concentrate on something else entirely. 
  His heart yearned for was the person sitting next to him wearing a simple green t-shirt with a graphical heart at the center, and skinny blue jeans with red flip-flops on her feet. The simple attire that she chose for herself complimented her fair face and her gorgeous dark hair. Like cheese and wine; stars and the moon. Her hair fell on her shoulders and her face lightly, as if they were weightless, hiding a part of her cheeks and her long, thin nose. When she moved her fringes from her face to behind her ears in one swift movement, the ruby on her ring finger shone fiercely, as if prompting the person adjacent to stop attempting the paper, and look at the one who bore the ring.
   She turned out to be not as intelligent he hoped she would be - sort of dumb, or blonde, as he referred to her kind, his arrogance to be blamed - and ended up copying almost all of his answers that he'd written on his answer sheet. He didn't mind giving his answers to her, he was helping a blonde after all, and it came as somewhat of a relief that she hadn't yet shown signs of possessing arguable intellect, because that would've made him like her even more. On further introspection he figured she might not have been as dumb as he thought of her after the test, enunciating that the first impression needn't always be the correct one. After all, he'd seen her during the classes, and aside from the fact that she was mind-numbingly beautiful and had a side profile of equal mind-numbing strength, she concentrated during the classes was all that he could conclude.
   At the end of their class, on their way out, she told him she'd have died had it not been for him. He blushed and thanked her. And then whey said their goodbyes, they didn't exchange numbers or even e-mail id's, and he felt relieved. Just her name he knew and he wanted to know nothing more. Facebook was a different deal of course, and he could always choose to not 'befriend' her. A part of him wanted to get closer to her; but that part was nothing more than dust buried underneath a rug, only visible when the rug was removed. 
   * * *
   When their next class started, she hadn't arrived. There was an inexplicable instinct inside him that continually made him look at the door to see if she had. A gush of air seemed to blow past him, and he was quick to figure that it was psychological, when she finally came in. He saw that she hadn't noticed him on her way in, even as she went past other students seated in multiple rows scattered across a room. She brushed her hair back lightly with her hands as she sat down, and he wished he'd been noticed by her. Their physics teacher was firing numericals at a rate his mind could hardly process them, and he decided it was better to concentrate than to look at someone who wasn't of any importance to him. His curiosity and certain unpredictable hormones got the better of him, and he ended up looking at her again. And again, he saw her analyzing, with utmost concentration, a physics numerical that she couldn't crack, biting her lips with subdued uneasiness; like he had, so many times before. He laughed to himself a silly smile, and got back to working on the physics numericals he was to spend the rest of his life with.

Evolution

| Posted in , , | Posted on 1:50 PM

2


An old chap with the name of Darwin once said,
That humans evolved from monkeys
And I'd still say we haven't evolved just because
We can do things with greater ease

Humans - they jump when they're happy,
Cry when they're sad,
Kill others when they feel crazy
And break things when they're mad

They strive to become posh; polished,
Eat food with their knives and forks
But deep down in their heart
They want to use their hands just like dorks

Monkeys will never learn to recognize 
Themselves in a mirror, they say.
But when they take a look in the mirror, 
They sure do know all about themselves, don't they?

And when they don' get what they want,
Just like most primitive apes,
They say they never did, and
Dismiss them as being sour grapes

Monkeys sink into a foetus-like position
When they're having lice or sucking on cherries
And how different are we from them
When we're engrossed in our blackberries?

It's ignorant to say men are better than monkeys
For they too play their parts
And monkeys, I say are much cooler 'cause 
They don't hold grudges in their hearts

Scientifically though we might've evolved,
But at the end we're just the same
Because years have passed and when at fault,
We still refuse to take the blame.




Seriously.
X-x-X

  The guys at Epigram Magazine published this. You can read this, and other poems here. Browse through their website, you'll find much more than just poems(read: Humour, Photographs, Lists et al). Have fun reading. :)