Random Ramblings

The train was about to leave. I stared in the berth opposite to mine. There was a small kid of maybe 9-10 monthes, her cheeks slightly reddish, and he was wrapped in a pink woolen cloth. Maybe it would be apt to call her "gulabi golu". Accompanying her was her mother, a young lady in her 20s, maybe around halfway through, and her "mausi" (mother's sister), who might have been a year or two younger. The kid was cute, and it was no surprise that the ones accompanying the kid were beautiful. In no time I found myself playing with the kid. And meanwhile, I was having glimpses of her mausi and mother. It was probably the first occasion when there was some good looking lady near my seat in a journey. I thought this and smiled, though no one except me was aware why. and, then suddenly, the kids mausi talked to me, "BHAIYA, aap kidhar jaa rahe ho ?" "Kalti !", i thought to myself ...and continued my journey

/*Too philoshophical stuff...*/ Every time I see around me, I see faces full of worry, a face that is sad, a face that angry, a face that is irritated, a face that is worried. Behind the face that smiles often hides something which is not so apparent. Behind the smiling façade are multitudes of layers of worries, fear or anguish. Many of these worried faces are the ones that rue upon wasted chances, or things not going their way, or things which were never under their control, or things that could have been. People do all kinds of things for it – from cribbing endlessly to desperately seeking divine help for a due/ undue favors to indulging in millions of ifs and buts, while many find solace in fact that it was ‘willed’, and they are not in control of whatever happens to them. Though resigned to fate, yet they are still worried about them. But that’s life. Life is not always fair. Not everyone gets what he wants. If everyone gets what he wants, the only thing that will have any co

When I came to this place almost seven months back, I knew it is going to be tough, but I never thought that it would be such a big battle for survival. But now when I look at my result and celebrate about having ‘survived’ the system (as on today, as I know not what lies few months down the line !), though not in a great health, I often think of those who haven’t. Here, the system is quite strict and also at one level though it is flexible, when it comes to discipline and academic standards it is as hard as a rock. In the relative grading system F is the lowest and D is the next. If in a year you accumulate 2 Fs, or 5 Ds or 1 F and 3 Ds; you have to repeat a year. And few Profs love to give a few Ds and Fs. There have been quite a few deserving candidates who are in the “red zone”, but there are many who don’t deserve to be there. This may be my personal opinion but this is reiterated by probably the entire batch. Passing marks is 35, yet many end up getting 33 or 34 and miss the