Of Students And Exams

DISCLAIMER : Don't expect this post to be a rant on the society and its undue pressure on students. Also don't expect it to help you in this time of dismay. It will probably make it worse. Additionally, we apologize for not adding the one the one thing that people read us for, i.e., Baba Sehgal jokes.


The results season is here. By now most of you must have already planned where to hide your parent's phones when the calls from those nosy relatives start coming in. Can't do anything about the landline though ! As usual when the results come in, 95% of the people will cry in a corner of their room and the rest, well, they don't give a fuck. Now, we all like thinking that we belong to the latter group but the truth is we all belong to the former one. Don't frown, I read it in a newspaper so it must be true, no ?

This particular time in India (especially for twelthies)  could very well be termed : Love, Exam aur Dhoka ( cheesy much ! ). No sex in the the title for Indian students because lets face it if you are a twelthie in India, chances are that the only private parts that you must have seen by now are yours, Sasha Grey's and those of that actress from whatever mallu porn you enjoy watching. I really don't know what kind of porn girls watch. But does any boy know really ? Some important questions about life these are. Another one being, was Jayalalitha really a hot babe in her younger days ? Is Mayawati a masked vigilante, the dark knight of Lucknow ? 

Ah, curiosity can be mankind's best or worst friend. It might sometimes end up teaching you some of the most important lessons for life and sometimes it may take you the deep dark corners of the internet full of dudes with double dicks.

( A little piece of advice : Okay, any saint who has made it till this point after all the porn talk, never google the words 'girls' and 'cup' together ever or you will be traumatized for life and I know every wanker worth his porn must already know what I am talking about ! )

Wow, so after that mammoth digression, as I was saying the exam season kicks off in our country early in the year with much friendly love about failing together or as CBSE and society  calls it, getting 80 % marks. And as it so often happens, one day before the test each and every friend gives you a detailed account of all the chapters they are leaving for the exam and make you feel all smug and confident about your preparation. THE LOVE 

And then there is the actual exam, which for my junior's knowledge I might say is like getting a colonoscopy while lying on a bed of 1000 nails. No seriously, I am not kidding ! THE EXAM

Finally comes the wretched results season and the betrayal it accompanies with it as all your friends get 90% above with the 'village idiot' getting 95% and you get potatoes and onions to sell in your future career as a street hawker. THE DHOKA 

On a serious note, I always see so much being written about the exam season ( not that we don't need it) everywhere but there is rarely any good material on results season which is quite bizarre. The students need it more at this point. I have seen so many students shutting out the world and sulking after the exam results. I too, for one, have sulked a lot at times but that is what you kind of expect from a traditional Indian nerd. I was supposed to be the geek, right ? Now see a non-geek might say what's the difference between the two and that infuriates me. But, more on that sometime later. 

My point is that there is no use shutting out the world. Got a bad result ? Talk to your parents, talk to your friends, talk to anyone who listens. It feels a lot better when you know that this is just a temporary phase and you a have LOT more to look out for.

At this point of time all that the students need to know, all that they need to be told is that they have done alright and anybody who tells them otherwise is smoking the same pot that you will be smoking after seeing your results. 

- The Geek 

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The Enchantress

DISCLAIMER: This article mainly focuses on the physical beauty of women. If you can't handle it, please don't read any further. Also, please don't think I am shallow and creepy. I am just a stupid admirer of the feminine form. This does not for once mean that I am not appreciative of their inner beauty.

“Women! What can you say? Who made 'em? God must have been a fuckin' genius. The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls... just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips... and when they touched, yours were like... that first swallow of wine... after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns... or secondhand Steinways. What's between 'em... passport to heaven. I need a drink.”

          -Col. Frank Slade (Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman)

If there is one thing in the world that acts as Kryptonite as well as an Arc Reactor (Non-superhero fans, please refer Google) for men, then its women. The above lines by Al Pacino do reflect the sentiments of every man in this planet quite aptly. Since, I reside in a boys’ hostel in an Engineering college, it basically means that lethargy, procrastination and pot are my best friends which kind of dulls down my mind. So any trip to the outside universe buzzes my mind up. I start noticing things in a very poetic manner. This brought me to the topic about women.

In my recent trip to Delhi, I saw a variety of women. Now don’t get me wrong. I do see a variety of women everyday in college but they are either my teachers or women in items found in my hidden folders. But jokes apart, I actually saw a few women in this trip, not in a way of just seeing them, but closely observing them (not her measurements you pervy bastards). But, I’d like to focus on one particular damsel.

I was half asleep in the train, daydreaming about how I was partying on a Yacht with Rakhi Sawant and Poonam Pandey and how they were stroking my, uh—hair. Then suddenly I was awoken by this ambrosial perfume that sent down an eternal pleasure right from my nostrils to my funny parts. I tried to locate the source of the fragrance and there i saw this woman of not more than 25 years, having a slender mermaid-like figure gliding down the aisle towards me.

Now, the thing is that luck has been a sucker on me. Never have I ever got a hot female travelling companion. It has always been either some snoring uncle or annoying children or fat aunties. But then, jab upar wala deta hai toh chhapad faad ke deta hai. So, this goddess-like woman sits opposite to me and as soon as that happened, I went from my awkward daydream pose to my hot James Bond pose and slowly started sipping water from my paper cup in a manner Mr. Bond sips his martini.

Facing such a situation for the first time, I did the only logical thing I could do. I started fiddling with my phone in a very suave manner, scrolling through my contacts and p*rn collection and shit. With the corner of my eye I saw that she took out a book and started reading it. I thought to myself, “Ground control to Major Tom, coast’s clear. You’re clear to zero-in on the target.” Well, a pretty unusual thing happened. Thoughts just vanished from my mind and for a brief moment I was stunned by her sheer beauty. She wore a simple red-coloured full sleeve top and a long, flowing, blue skirt. She had feline facial features much like Olivia Wilde. Her skin was the perfect tone of brown— not uncooked, not burnt, but perfectly roasted. She had these big, doe-like, hazel eyes with the slightest traces of mascara. Her hair was of the type they show in shampoo commercials. I was just overwhelmed at this sight and for a moment I forgot about the seven hells—my life. Her supple form swayed metronomously with the movement of the train, almost in an angelic fashion. I kept watching her very skilfully, through my cellphone’s camera and after my brain got numbed from being enchanted by her aura, I dozed off with a smile on my face. When I got up, alas! She was nowhere to be seen. And then suddenly I finally understood the meaning of the lines written by John Keats:-

“A Thing of Beauty is a joy forever.”

-The Freak

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Edward Snowden, is that you?

DISCLAIMER: FBI people, don't worry. Snowden is not locked up in my basement. Please don't arrest me. I'm still a virgin(or am I?(Yes I am :'( )). Arnab Goswami fans... stay away as always.

First things first. There is a weird thing going on with the blog. We are gettting a lot of Russian views (Edward Snowden is that you?). My Russian comrades, we share a lot of common likings viz. vodka and Russian women and we also think of Vladmir Putin as a sex symbol of the middle aged people (I mean look at the guy. Is there any hotter President in the world?). So, Russian spy dudes, stop checking our blog for suspicious activities. You are the least of our worries. We have burning issues of our own. For example-

How do we combat the Maoists?

Will Digvijay Singh ever stop embarrassing the Congress?

Does Arnab Goswami have marital issues? Is he not able to satisfy his wife and hence chanelling that anger on the hapless guests who come to his show?

Does Poonam Pandey have the power to unite the country?

(On a sidenote: I strongly believe Poonam Pandey has the power to truly bring the country together as there has never been a more unanimous moment in the country's history than the moment when all Indians were praying to the heavens for Poonam Pandey to strip)

Now, since we are clear on that, let's move on. So, the last article by The Geek criticized Delhi to such an extent that I felt like ramming an SUV through his house and blowing his face off with a shotgun, all while I am heavily dosed on a khamba of RS and listening to Ch**t Vol. 1 on full blast. After all, being a Dilliwala gives you the birthright to enact GTA in real life, doesn't it?

I am not exactly from Delhi, but we folks from the NCR like to call ourselves Dilliwalas too. After staying here for better part of the decade, I have come to cherish numerous aspects of the city. Delhi, is one hell of a vibrant city with rapists, thugs, the common dilliwalas, gujjar boys, corrupt politicians who claim that Delhites can get a full meal for Rs. 5, all comprise of the city's population or as Navjot Singh Sidhu would put it- "Delhi is a bubbling cauldron of converging cultures, all strirring together to form the very essence of the city". Man, somebody should give this guy a nobel prize in literature for his one-liners.

The moment you enter Delhi, you will be greeted by various sights and sounds of the city. The sights being the ones i'm about to list and the sounds being the one and only true anthem of Delhi- The Delhi Police song. Man... why the hell is it so catchy. I once heard the song before an exam and i was humming it throughout the duration of the exam which caused my adjacent dude to start off too! It has some black magic I tell you. Now for the sights, i.e. places of interests/hangout spots/makeout spots/forever alone spots. Here's a list of my favourites:-

• Hauz Khas village and the various monuments dotting the city. They serve the purpose of extensive photoshoots of girls with duck-faced, crosslegged, hands-by-the-side, head-tilted poses with the sole intent of updation of Facebook DPs & covers photos, having deep captions, which don't have the slightest relation with the picture nicked off the internet.
• Delhi Zoo. The perfect place for couples and forever alone cynical assholes. Couples roam around hand in hand while occasionally stealing away a kiss while cynical assholes ponder over their plight, all while watching baboons have intercourse and hippos lick each other's butts.
• Okhla Bird Sanctuary. Though I haven't been here but I have it on godd authority that this is the perfect place for alcoholics and drug addicts. Even the police come here to share a beer or two with you.
• Old Delhi Area. For its cheap goods and delicious food.
• Last but not at all the very least- Garstin Bastion Road/Swami Shradhanand Marg. Every guy who doesn't have luggage and gets down at New Delhi Metro station is headed here. Some shout out with joy-"Arrey BC! Agla station hai!!" while some are more reserved. So, what exactly is so awesome in the largest red light area of Delhi? Well, for forever alone guys like me, this area has a lot to offer. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't go there for sexual pleasures as I am too much of a coward and I have erectile issues under pressure have morals and principles. I go there just to enjoy the view and to gloat with joy whenever someone whom I have never met calls me sex because of the money and other things she's gonna squeeze from me hunk that I am. then there are the guys coming out of the brothels, especially the no. 64 brothel. Every guy coming out, be it a rickshaw puller, well-educated dude, some foreigner guy or your common gutkha-chewing classic Indian labour, all come out with this 10000-watt smile, some ruffling their hair, some still buttoning their shirt, some in deep conversation about how he gave it to her and some even licking their fingers. All this observation comes at a price. What I am talking about is that your observation is interupted constantly by creepy pedophiles who sneak up on you and offer you a full ear canal check. But, be that as it may, this place is a really nice place to set up shop. After all what can be more embarrassing to tell your family that you work at G.B. Road? All jokes apart, this road is also famous as a market for machinery, automobile parts, hardware and tools and is the largest market for these items in the National Capital Region. But we all know why people go here right? *wink wink*

Though I love Delhi for its women, cheap liquor prices and its high class restaurants (which serve you simple food with twisted names(like simple daal-chawal becomes yellow lentils washed in himalayan waters with steaming long rice freshly picked from the lap of the Vindhyas cooked to perfection) and charge the earth from you), there is still backwardness in this quazi-modern city. People may dress modern but their minds are still ancient (I'll write about this problem in a more broader spectrum in another article). If mindsets of Delhi people change, I am pretty sure this city will be there in the top 10 cities to reside in the world from every aspect.

-The Freak

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Dilli, Dilli, Dilli

DISCLAIMER : This post will offend anyone who reads it except for little Bengali dudes in Kolkata. So apologies are in order for the next five minutes.

Well I have almost spent a decade now in the part of India that is famous for its crimes more than anything else, namely the National Capital Region and for every DU student who doesn't know what I mean, I'm talking about NCR, bro. Over the years as a jealous proud resident of one of the satellite towns of the capital city, ( No. I don't live in Noida ) I have come to hate Delhi with all my heart and soul. The city that houses the parliament of our nation runs the same way as the parliament , i.e., if people don't get their way they either stage a walkout or break the other person's head. The likelihood of latter happening is much more. 

The funny part about Delhi, or Dilli as it is called in local lingo, is that unlike other cities it does actually have all the stereotypes that are depicted in popular culture. Its not so hard to find that nosy neighbourhood aunty, that show-off family, the migrant sitting in classic Indian labour pose and for that matter the friendly rapist next door. In fact a typical love story in Delhi can be summed up as : I loved her. But I didn't get her. And now I'll rape her. Oh yes people we finally have a love story worse than Twilight and its right here in Delhi. 

On the top of this to have a moniker like ' Dillwalon ki Dilli' is just so funny . Sure, the auto driver who robbed me by taking the longest possible route to my destination was a dillwaala. The Gol Gappa guy ( apparently saying paani puri raises an eyebrow or two here ) who pissed in my food was a dillwaala. Oh wait, that was Mumbai ! God, they are fucked up. 
Coming back to the city, there are obviously some good things about the city as well like the Metro rail. How can a discussion about Delhi ever be over without mentioning the place where I have fought many a battle for the coveted place called a seat. Of course, the Metro official leaking the videos of couples making out late night in Metro is a very normal thing and happens in every city of the world. I tell you even boys these days are felt up by other dudes in the Metro. At least the people are slowly becoming open minded in Delhi with all the LGBT parades and whatnot. Also, one more good thing about Delhi is that it is a melting pot of cultures and for every Punjabi dude you see listening to Honey Singh, you can see a Bengali guy mouthing the lines, " Tumse na hoga beta". 

Being the capital city, we do have some privileges like throwing stones at the minister's house whenever we want. Of course, you have got to run faster than Milkha Singh after that. Also, a special version of the MasterCard ad runs for only for us that goes as :

1. Buying an invitation to a party : Rs. 800  
2. Drinking booze at at the club : Rs. 200
3. Getting a girl drunk so you can grope her : Rs. 300 
4. Ordering a cup of coffee and a side dish for you and your friend : Rs. 800( Mehengai Daayan Khaye Jaat hai ) 
5. Getting lost at night drunk and becoming paranoid that a gang is following you : Priceless

There are some things that money can't buy, for everything else there's your dad's bank account.

And with that people I come to the last uniqueness of Delhi, the dialogue which is older than even other classics such as " Kutte, Kaminey, mujhe bhagwaan ke liye chhodh de. " ( A classic case of God-blocking this is ). Of course, I am talking about the age old " Tu jaanta nahi mera baap kaun hai ?". Translation for our Southie and Chinki readers : " Don't you know who my father is ? ". Well , to think of it I too may have become racist living here. Anyways, whenever I encounter such great human specimens, I only have one answer " Vicky Donor, maybe ? ".   

- The Geek 

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The FAGS

DISCLAIMER: Girls, please don't read this. And Baba Sehgal fans, we have squeezed in a reference for you guys after mass hysteria and riots for not including him in the last post.

Okay, so since our last post touched hearts and other body parts(like the right hand, for instance) of The Forever Alone Guys Society(The FAGS), I'd like to dedicate this post to them and show them why the grass is not greener on the other side.

The FAGS face numerous problems in their day to day lives.
When will I meet my dream girl?
Why the hell did I fantasize about Jayalalitha last night?
Have I deleted my Internet History?
Why am I so attracted to shemale porn? Am I gay?
Damn! I am out of tissues!

Yes. The world is a cruel place for The FAGS. There are three reasons for joining the ranks of The FAGS.

• You are FriendZoned. It is possible to wriggle your way to the other side. Just take inspiration from Chandler Bing.
• You are one ugly son of a bitch unique looking. This also is fixable. You will eventually find your ugly looking daughter of a bitch unique looking soulmate.
• You are BrotherZoned. In this case, you are fucked. Its okay bro, I feel ya.

First off, why is it so bad to be a member of The FAGS? Is it so bad that you torture yourself to see Dhaai Akshar Prem Ke one hundred twenty six times? No. The one and only major major drawback in my opinion is you won't be getting any. And since you are in India, the land of holy cows and Baba Sehgal, most couples dont ba-doinka-doinka-doink anyway. In most cases, the guy reaches second base at most. That's no herculean task if you ask me. You can directly advance to second base in numerous places such as disco theques, The Delhi Metro during rush hour or in the magical, retarded, kinky, porno-addicted, marijuana-altered land of Your Dreams where you are doing it everyday with Rakhi Sawant while listenening to Pankaj Udhas(pretty amazing how the power of thought can take you anywhere,huh?(no it can't! i'm gonna die alone!)). Btw you'd be surprised how many girls cling on to you in disco theques, as if you are some mallu sex symbol. Somehow vodka and coke sets off what plain water can't, i.e. their hormones. I myself had opportunites in such places but I turned them down because I was too much of a wuss and this would be cheating on my right hand I was a genntleman and I don't take advantage of drunk women(said no man drowned in pussy, ever).
Now many people will be like, "O wise prophet, I agree with you and all but there is another thing we'd be missing out on. True Love."

Say waaat? You fools, you aren't even finished with puberty yet and you talk of true love as if you are Ted Moseby. It took him also something like 80 years to find true love.

And if you are low on love, you will always be forever loved and accepted by one constant identity- The FAGS. They'll be like your cancer support group.

Now what are the awesome points about being a member og The FAG.
First lets start off by analyzing what it takes to impress a girl. The following is an excerpt from a girl's blog:-

     "How to impress a girl.

1. Dress to impress - Look amazing ! Be properly dressed. Look decent. Be fragrant (Most importantly)
2. Talk to her politely - Be humble, gentle and calm. Act like a gentleman.
3. Think before you speak - Don't treat her like a friend, don't forget she's a girl. Everyone slips up and says stupid things, but try y...our best to limit it when you're around this girl. Take a few seconds to evaluate what you're going to say before you spit it out.
4. Give her a nice compliment - Tell her she is beautiful, tell her, her eyes are pretty. Note : Don't call her 'HOT' or 'SEXY'
5. Make her feel special - Pay attention to what she's saying.
6. Go out of your way to help her. If she could use a hand with something, offer your assistance! It could be carrying heavy or cumbersome items, going with her to run an errand, or talking to her through a difficult situation. Let her finish with what she's saying and don't interrupt.
7. Be friend's at first - Be good friends. Don't expect her to be your girlfriend right after the first date.
8. Ask her out on a date - Once she knows you well and trusts you, ask her out to a date. Tell her how much you like her and that how happy would you keep her if she says yes to you.
9. Be a potential boyfriend - Don't just pass time. Instead give her time, remind her you love her everyday.
10. Don't force her for anything. (Physically) Make her feel comfortable. It'll happen when it has to.
11. You're good to go Stay happily ever after." 

Now, if you are a boy, you'll have either of the following two expressions:-

• 1. Awwwwwww.... So cute!!! So true!!! I love ponies and unicorns!!!

In this case, read no further and I suggest you immediately go to some nearby clinic, get 4 testosterone shots(1 on your hip, 1 on your arm and 1 each for your balls), do something dude-like(like helping your mom in the kitchen) and then watch Rambo, Die Hard or some Sunil Shetty flick(the ones where he roars like a mad buffalo, i.e. all of them).

OR

• 2. Dafuq did I just read?

In this case, you may continue and be proud to call yourself not a boy, but a man.

11 friggin' points? All it takes to impress a guy:-
1. A push-up bra, 2. a sexy smile AND 3.some intellect(just wrote 2. and 3. so that girls don't think i am shallow.) 

Now, I disagree with the whole excerpt have a few problems with the above excerpt. Basically, if you were to summarize the whole thing, it means that you have to drain your coffers dry on useless shit and become her robotic lapdog or to simplify it further, you have to be what Manmohan Singh is to Sonia Gandhi. So being a member of The FAG saves money, time and you also get to sing like a canary.Being a member gives you the liberty to flirt with, stare at or (in some rare, control-freak-of-a-girl cases) talk to other girls without feeling guilty. They also receive good right hand exercise. Instead of wasting precious time and money on girls, members of The FAGS can now waste money getting wasted on cocaine, coca-cola and kurkure(Hell yeah!).

But, on a serious note, stop obsessing about being Forever Alone. I know its cool and hip and all but eventually a girl will come and break that illusion. Until then, just be satisfied with your life. Now, if you'll excuse me, i'll be off to the bathroom to attain "Moksh"(if you know what I mean).

-The Freak

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Love And Other Things such as Cows And Cynical Assholes

DISCLAIMER : All views expressed are personal. Also an apology to Baba Sehgal fans as I just couldn't squeeze in a reference to him. Arnab Goswami fans ( Gosh, what kind of people are you ? ) should not read any further.

So a friend of mine, for the sake of his identity lets call him lover boy, has been gloating a lot these days. Well he has reasons to do so as he has done something great. Something so great that stuffs of legend will be written about him in the bro codes all over the world. What has he accomplished ? He, my friends, like the great Chandler Bing, has comeback from the dreaded friend zone to get THE girl. And much to the annoyance of people around him,who  masturbate to sleep alone at night cry themselves to sleep alone at night, he has been telling everyone how his life has changed these days. According to him this feeling is only comparable to the joy you feel when your favourite sports team wins a major championship. Digression starts. I bet South African fans in cricket and Arsenal fans in football are never going to feel that joy again. Digression ends. Well, of course soon they both will go to college in different parts of the country and enter a long distance relationship. They will grow distant and then someone will cheat on the other. Or if they are really unlucky, maybe they'll last the years and get married and have kids, then he will develop a mid-life crisis, probably have an affair. But  who cares about that, right ? At least he feels the joy.

Sorry, I may have crossed on to the dark side there. Vodka does have a weird effect on me. 

 Call me a forever alone guy cynical asshole, and a lot of people I know do call me that, but I don't believe in the mass cultural delusion that are relationships. Maybe this makes me a Bollywood cliché. But I am pretty sure, no Deepika Padukone is coming in my life to change that. Though, I wouldn't mind if that would happen. Anyways, coming back to the matter at hand, I tried, like any cynic, to make this friend of mine to believe that my way is the highway, freeway and expressway or whatever roadways you can think of. Sample this heated exchange that took place between us :

I start by telling him how the teenage years of his life are the golden and he should not waste them on chasing after a girl. He was silent for a minute and just when I thought he was going to fart, he shot back like Kapil Sibal once did to finally stop Arnab Goswami from shouting at my TV screen, saying, " Yeah, I'd much rather waste it like you sitting in my room all day in front of a computer screen writing a blog that has a lower viewership than a Himesh Reshmaiya movie."

Lover Boy : 1        Cynical Asshole : 0

Perplexed over his comeback, I ask him," Do you really want the tension of hiding it all from your parents and keeping so many secrets? What if they find out and suddenly become incarnation of Amrish Puri of 90's cinema ?". The farting expression still in place, he replies, " At least its better than the tension of disposing of the napkins and deleting internet history every time they come home from work. Also if they find out, they'll finally be relieved that I don't drive on the other side of the road, unlike your parents who still jump up at mere mention of the word closet ". 

Lover Boy : 2      Cynical Asshole : 0

Running out of ideas I start playing the good old studies and career track. This time comes a reply more insulting than the jokes that Seth Macfarlane used in his Oscar hosting gig( At least he was much better than James Franco, who looked high as shit during his time). The reply being, " Dude, you are the one sitting at home while I am going to a college. May not be a reputed one but at least it is a college with a building and a name. " 

Lover Boy : 3      Cynical Asshole : 0 

You know that moment in every superhero movie from The Dark Knight to Malegaon Ka Superman, where our superhero seems to be losing and then plays one final card. Well, this was that card. I tell him that while I am going to spend my young years playing pranks on my friends, dialing prank calls to teachers and all the cool shit that we cynical assholes do, all he will do after waking up in the morning is worry if his girlfriend left him today for a better guy ( Trust me, I know the guy even a cow riding high on red bull is a better 'guy' than him, pun fully intended). This time he finally farts and amidst the air that smelled the same as one in a cow barn, ( Ok, I am done with the cow jokes now. ) he says, " In other words you're still a virgin."

Lover Boy : All the freaking points he can get.  

Cynical Asshole : Crying in a corner  Accepting his defeat like a good sport. ( Unlike premier league fans ). 

Thus, in the battle of the lover boy and the cynical asshole, the lover boy wins. But I still believe that he farted purposefully to put me off my game. And this is what makes me a cynical asshole after all. Now, does anybody have the local Domino's phone number ? I gotta call them to ask for Pizza Hut's number. 

- The Geek 

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Part 2 : Fast Forward

DISCLAIMER : If this post makes you cry, we are not to be held responsible.

Jan 2013. Everything had changed. I had gone into total self-destruct mode. I was doing the opposite of what I was supposed to be doing. Like i was supposed to buy Kamasutra extra ribbed vanilla condoms and instead i bought some cheap regular latex from Mangal Bazaar. Now don't get me wrong. You must have formed a pretty big playboy image of me in your head(flattered for that btw). But truth be told, i buy condoms because i secretly hope that i'll be getting some soon / i love inflating them with water and sticking them to my chest and imagining i have huge bazongas i'm a responsible citizen.

Back to Jan 2013. <music in ears>. *mere photo ko... mere photo ko seene se yaar chipkale sanyaa favicol se*

Farewell. Continuation Party. Dancing. Boys were dancing as if they had just lost their virginities. Girls were dancing as if they just bought new shoes/new dress or whatever rows their boat. The world around was oblivous to these boys and girls. It was a full moon(poornima) moment.

Feb 2013. Amavasya. This transition can be well related to Ekta Kapoor soaps, which highlight the chaar-din-ki-chaandni-fir-amavasya-ki-raat concept superbly, wherein the bahu of the sasuraal is all joyous and smiling initially but then the saas springs out from somewhere in a surprise-motherfucker! manner and starts playing mind games.

Anyhow, back to Feb 2013. Exam pressure. Boys started looking like Chuck Norris, courtesy of untamed stubbles. Girls didn't buy shoes or have imaginary tea parties with their stuffed dolls anymore. Since I was a cool dude, I was on heavy dosage of Xanax and Mary Jane totally chilled out and played football regularly. By the way, I'd like to extend my thanks to New Diamond Saloon for adding to my coolness. I would go there every alternate evening after a thrilling game of football and the barber would put on some Rafi, to which we both sang out loud, and he would massage my scalp with Chameli Herbal Oil. Best evenings ever.

March 2013. Pretty normal. The usual for most boys. Jerk off. Study. Jerk off. Study. Sleep. Wake up. Listen to some remixed bhajans. Study. Jerk off. This J.S.J.S.S.W.L.S rythym pretty much continued for the whole month and even stretched to the next 2-3 months(fucking competitives).

May 2013. Results month. First up, Jee Mains. Couldn't dare to open the results page. My heart had stopped. This happened to me only twice in my 18 years of living. 1. When my parents checked my internet browsing history in 8th std.(No InPrivate Browsing then + i was too naive) & 2. When I watched 2 Girls 1 Cup(very informative video, btw. Its a great family watch). Anyhow, I mustered up my courage and opened the page. Didn't make the cutoff. Chalo, not the end of life. Nothing good old BRAZZERS can't fix.

-27th May 2013. Woke up. Opened CBSE page. Boards result. Saw the result. Got fucked. Went out of the house. Grabbed a beer with a friend. Saw Fast and Furious 6. Came back. Readied myself for the tidal wave of calls from relatives who are quite similar to Haley's comet. They show their face, once in 77 years and when they do, they mind fuck you with snide remarks.

June 2013. IIT/AIIMS are a distant dream. Btw, Medical students are still busting their balls in competitives. Some Science students go for a B.Sc program. Other stream students go to DU colleges or whatever other institutions are there for them. Some students decide not to give up(much like Sunny Deol in Gadar) and decide to take a drop. Cool dudes like me start pondering over selling chhole puri, banta, chuski, ganne ka ras as viable backup options.

July 2013. Reality hits you hard. You are going to college/dropping/selling chhole puri. You realize life isn't going to be the same. School's out. Friends are scattering away. You are doing things such as writing blogs with your best friend so no matter how far you go, you will always have some regular connection with him. It is time to take a leap of faith, Assasin's Creed style, and just hope for a soft and comfy landing.

-The Freak

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