Sunday, 24 December 2017


(Merry Christmas)

A foggy morning,
stubborn clothes hanging,
willing not to dry
till the clock went past nine!
I discouraged myself
to warm up for a jog:
I had started only a day before,
for my belly like a trapezoid
extended to faraway places
and the Sharmas had 
already started! 

Who wastes a Sunday?
I slept till noon
in peace with the neighbours
who would protest my music...
I call it 'mutated classical',
neither understood I
nor did they!

I sprung from my toilet seat
like a 'monk with a hundred wands'!
The kitchen seemed a hall
and the egg a candle,
I burned my prayers on the stove
with sauces, carrots and capsicum,
each mingling with the onions
like a prophecy of the gods.
The cheese melted like wax
into the yolk of the egg,
into the soul of my gourmet self
and I lived my Sunday
just as I live myself!

Thursday, 9 November 2017


Bhatti had a not-so-good relationship with computers. His wishlist regarding the use of computers was pretty shorter than an average individual. In fact, the list had just one item: watching films. Bhatti was gloriously patriotic, and that made him different from others. He belonged wholeheartedly to Punjab, and could die for his soil. He watched Punjabi films a lot, and had no bigger expectations from a computer other than offering a service of playing films. He considered the computer to be an inferior commodity, and put his natural social outlook above all. At a time when technology was kissing the pedestal of success, Bhatti gave more importance to friendship and brotherhood. Perhaps, that's one of the reasons why he has befriended my mind, and I have sincere respect for the individual.
Not deviating from the episode, Bhatti once bought a new computer after getting numerous suggestions from his numerous friends. Like every other individual, he wished to use a password on his machine. Not delaying a good task, he put a password on his computer to protect his important files which consisted only of films and a few unused softwares. Bhatti was happy. He was in the league of people who locked their computers with secure codes. Due to his social involvement, and negligence towards technology, Bhatti forgot his computer's password. He realized this when one day, he wished to watch a film on his laptop. He was worried, and so was the hostel. It was in the news that Bhatti had forgotten his computer's password.
Bhatti approached his friends, trying to get a clue from them as of what the password might have been. Can you just imagine that a person relied on his social groups to derive that one missing link between him and his password? Such was Bhatti. None could help. Finally, Bhatti asked a friend to reboot his machine. The friend was busy and asked him to come the day after.
The friend waited for a few days but Bhatti was nowhere to be seen. After a few days, Bhatti met his friend. 
His friend asked," Bhatti, you were supposed to come the day after. What happened to your computer? Did you do something?"
Bhatti replied in joy,"Oi, after you left, I tried a number of times, and finally, I was able to recall my password."
"Ok. What password did you put that it took so many efforts?"
"Oi, Yaar, my password was Bhatti, all in uppercase."

Wednesday, 8 November 2017


I know not if the introduction to Bhatti in the earlier episode was sufficiently justifying, because he is a man with a bundle of traits, which shall become clearer as we proceed through the episodes. 
There's no shortcut to success! Bhatti defied this truth, and he could defy it in the most perfect way possible because he believed in his decisions, although he never hesitated to correct them when he was wronged by his classmates.
One such incident relates to the days when Bhatti was pursuing engineering graduate studies at a prestigious engineering institute of the country. He was truly fond of films, and the only thing he searched for when he would encounter a computer was media players. One evening, he was watching one of his favourite films on his friend, Vijay's computer, and was deeply engrossed in it. A friend of Vijay arrived at his room to ask for a folder of simulation files. Since it was Bhatti who was using his computer, so Vijay asked him to do the file transfer. Bhatti was a bit distracted; he paused his entertainment, minimized the player, and quickly sent the folder to the drive. The friend asked doubtfully," Pretty fast, huh?" Bhatti felt that the question was out of his syllabus, and replied,"Ah! It's a new computer." The friend thanked both of them, and went to his room. A few minutes later, Vijay's friend returned with a disappointed look, and said, "Yaar, Vijay, the files aren't running. I think there was some problem during the transfer."
Bhatti now felt a tinge of irritation striking his irritation glands because he was having interruptions in entertainment. He uttered, " Oi, what happened? You still don't know how to open a file. Hand over the drive, I am resending it."
Bhatti once again completed his task at lightning speed, and advised," Insert it properly, and have some patience. I know you will do it this time." Bhatti didn't want him to come back for another query. The friend thanked again, this time in a tone of uncertainty, and left. Bhatti resumed with his participation in watching the film.
Around fifteen minutes later, the boy returned, and directly went to Vijay, and said," Please check my drive once. I don't understand what's happening. I am sure there's some infections."
Bhatti acted as if he didn't hear any bit of what was going on between the two, although deep down his heart, he knew he would have to pause again. Vijay took the drive, and asked Bhatti to plug it in. Bhatti was burning inside, but he controlled his might and fright, and put the computer in Vijay's control. Vijay checked the drive, and sighed furiously.
"Bhatti...why were you sending the shortcuts to his drive?" he asked.
Bhatti was perplexed for a moment. He knew he had done the transfer. "I transferred the folder that was on your desktop. I have seen you running your simulations using that."
"Bhatti, that is a shortcut. The actual files are in the source folder."
Bhatti didn't utter a word. He kept mum, and decided to talk to Vijay later.

Tuesday, 7 November 2017


You have come across a number of social media memes, right? I mean, in the most general of all senses, and not pinpointing the exceptional individuals who file moral petitions against memes, humans are enriched by humour. Now, there are two classes of humour: one, that is born out of imagination or linked to the thinnest line between fiction and reality, and the other, a truth that can spontaneously bring out the laughter in you irrespective of your state. The name, Bhatti, is synonymous with the second category of humour. In fact, he is a comical quantity which requires no forced intentions to urge you to participate in a plate of laughter. He is someone who would love to search papads in a dish of papdi chat, and use those papads to furnish his desires of joining the Indian defence. Bhatti is like pure cinema; his actions are experiences rather than reasons of pity. A boy whose teenage halted in time, although his body grew to manhood. It's just like the dictums of Bhagvad Gita, where the soul is immortal and the body is temporary. In Bhatti's case, his mind that leads to humour from his unintentional errors is permanent, whereas, his growth as a person is imminent. Bhatti also realized that he was weak in engineering, but he didn't let his dreams of clearing the administrative services fade away. Bhatti is a legend in his own league, a legend who innocently parted moments of joys to people around him, and to people beyond his time when these tales were relevant, to someone like me. His legacy is unique: for everything he has done, he has never done them correctly, but he is the most correct person I have ever heard of!
The best part about Bhatti is that he admits his wrongdoings, particularly, those in which he contributed immensely to little acts of daily corruption of sorts. You must have never met a person like him with a free mind and a wonderful heart. In fact, keeping aside the seriousness of the hilarious in Bhatti, he is a person whose association can inspire you to imbibe the Bhattigiri in you to keep yourself away from your nonsensically serious problems. 
To conclude the introduction, I owe him a treat for his legacy has taught me the most important note of life which I have only watched in films and fiction, that is, to live a carefree life often, because life is only once!

Saturday, 26 August 2017


Dedicated to my countrymen

Blue whales turn villains
on tides of ignorance.
Luxury saves fat, 
luxury kills youth. 
Those green fields I miss, 
I miss those fishing rods, 
flour balls and a few fishes
for Sunday lunch on brass plates
or banana leaves, where cuisines
are delicious, like elixir!

Inferior women, 
instigating men, 
ignorance: pride
is foolish. 
Instantaneous thoughts
in bowls of prejudice
ink decisions
in a country of progressive

Religions are proper. 
Men are blind to truth
for truths are never relative
to thoughts. 
They are absolute, 
ultimate entities. 

Modernity is biased!
Poverty on the streets
of a festive temple, 
wise personnels at
doors of foolish winners,
laptops on tables of
hungry farmers
feed gods with human

My country is not a hypothesis. 
My self is as free as soils of this. 
Death shan't be my moksha. 
Rebirth on this land shall.

Tuesday, 4 July 2017


An appealing pony tail
atop a shaven head,
and a sweetly large belly
out of health and wealth,
bring peace to sinful men,
to people with dark stains.

He walks with might
for he is the best and right,
but he often forgets his chores,
lands up in serious holes.
He had an offering
at a place nearby.
It was Thursday
and the sun shone wild.
He took the bus 
newly painted in red
but forgot his stoppage, 
he in utter distress.
He remembered the chants-
he recalled and checked,
his memory worked well
when it was pure business.
The old lady beside
murmured in pain
for his heavy movement
spoiled her embroidered dress.
She couldn't shout
to a pandit obvious-
she feared frozen curses
or next birth's sins
or hungry death 
burning hell amidst!

Meanwhile, our pandit
feared more-
doubted on his doings,
sins in store!
The conductor uttered options.
Alas! All were illusions.
He finally decided to return
to where he first boarded;
to speak to the conductor,
he tried to make some progress.
But... but he forgot that too, 
his head burnt like a stove!
God was asleep,
He didn't show some love!
The lady beside,
irritated entirely,
shouted at last, 
"O' big Pandit, why 
forget you must?"

Wednesday, 7 June 2017


The red skies turned upset
as I dropped my shield,
and the battle didn't listen
to my tiring plead-
all turned their spears
towards my ankle,
and I halted for a while.
I wasn't up,
my spear's metal weakened
like my soul
that tried to reason with virtue.
the sun seemed to wait
for one last time:
that one moment before
it prepared to set.
I grabbed my shield,
my life in my ankle,
swirled my spear,
all caught with fear.

Let the battles be planned.
With my spear shall I stand,
aged with the purest of virtues.
With life on my ankle, I shan't lose!

Thursday, 1 June 2017


"Like a shadow of your
self immersed in me,
I shall spend myself
in arms of yours;
nights shall dissolve 
in our moments,
I shall stay your admirer,
for now, then and forever."

Why a shadow shall you stay
when the same Moon we share:
She stays late to ensure romance
like a goddess of an ancient scripture.
Your desires are sculpted in me.
My wishes surround you, my queen!

Wednesday, 10 May 2017


[Written on a Buddha Purnima evening. When the gods gift a theme, one must write, isn't it?]

The night had her
romantic flair
as the leaves were
half burnt, half dark:
some shyness possessed
their veins,
half lit by the street lamps
as I peeped like a child
through the crimson curtains
I had bought
from the weekend sale,
ruining the first night
of a romantic affair.

The Breeze caught me:
She slipped in
through the unlocked window,
through my anticipations.
The Moon is her best friend.
In full, she paid her tribute.
Like vermilion on
forehead of a queen
she embellished her skies.
She acknowledged,
cleared her skies for the stars
who slept without complaints
on beds of her humble darkness.

I watched the entire affair
as I was drawn towards infinity.
Then, it was Breeze who whispered:
"O' poet of the eastern realms,
will you not write on them?
Your pen awaits some poetry,
and I have enjoyed your company!"

Wednesday, 26 April 2017


The anthems aren't strong
to infuse a patriotic hold.
Patriots are for governments,
the country rests in documents.
Arguments find progress
like donkeys on road races.
There's solace in virtual victory,
the media finds itself in futility.
Race donkeys declare their wars
for their jockeys were harsh
and the social network goes berserk
as the wars need to move forward.

You must know.
These wars are rational.
The abuses must be used
or their meanings shall lose
just like donkeys must revolt,
prove they are an intelligent lot.
All morning dung that fill their bowls
are from their egoistic diet charts.
Why mustn't they maintain?
Intelligence must have reservations too.
Who cares for dumb science?
Rocket science has no conspiracies.
Social media protects priorities.
Innovations? Huh!
Donkeys invent dung every moment.
Brilliance is dead
for inventions can be bought,
dung for sale is what you cannot.

Men! Countrymen!
Materialistic and hollow.
You know all except your country.
Borrowed apparels from the West
But thought not of free thinking.
But that can't be bought, can it?
You are impatient,
filled with logic of religions
but no spirit of science,
or the humanity
you are hypocrite about.
Your pride stinks.
You have ruined sentiments
through your bastard emotions.
You are lonely.
You are not my countrymen.
This isn't you.
This isn't us.

Friday, 3 March 2017


Mom wouldn't mind at all.
It's an apple after all.
Only a bite shall not
offend her or aunt so short.
Brother little wouldn't cry much.
Only a bite more shouldn't be a fuss.
Dad big wouldn't even ask.
Till then the apple shan't last.


I dared to speak some truth
Despite warnings of the ailing few.
Destiny I believed in, blind.
It's Destiny who trapped my life.
I struggled to convince Him much
That Devil had bought His trust.
I was only a loyal ally
He didn't believe, He was blind.

Tuesday, 28 February 2017


The winter returns with your thoughts.
Your rhymes warm my lonely mornings:
Coffee is only a mere excuse.
The rose is, otherwise, pretty safe
in the fold of the nineteenth page.
I remember you like another winter.
The perfume has died over time.
What remains is you, your rhymes!


The tomatoes wait for their mistress
on the table of the dull kitchen.
I wait for my fate to act in distress
while she stood with a frying pan.
Her hairs kissed her cheeks
as she moved, hastily, angrily.
I kissed the air in front
and she grew redder than a tong:
she wasn't in mood of romance,
I hadn't read the day's Taurus!

"My mistake was?"
How dared I asked!
She blamed the remote
and the computer still on.
I couldn't utter a word
for all my tricks were gone!

Oh! How beautiful
she looks.
I surrender like a drunk king...
drunk in her red cheeks,
redder than the tomatoes
which wait for her
on the kitchen table,
much safer than me!

Wednesday, 22 February 2017


The Mist drowns Herself
in shyness of Dawn's warmth.
The East promised much
but could She ignore little treats?

One who keeps my Love
untouched by uncertainty
of dreadful Autumn.
Even days sketched on wood
can be so inspiring-
each strengthening my will
to love Him more,
to believe in my East.
Speak to me, O' Mist.
Do you wait for your 
Dawn who brings yellow joy
from the East?
Do you know my East?
He hasn't returned since a year.
The war was his last promise.

I envy your love.
I envy your East!


Are all vampires so dark, evil?
Lust lies in minds of men.
The Sun tries best to dethrone
The Winged Crown of arrogant rodents.


I could not wait but ink
on the commercials of rich cosmetics.
Then I saw your crimson lips.
Love compelled me to break a few nibs.


My past lies in subtle reflections.
How have I changed since then?
The waters tempt me for confessions
Of sins and deeds my Devil had planned!


Time can't win over my will.
A thousand oaths stay in me.
I shall perform although threads betray.
I shall be me, I shan't go astray.
The wrinkles speak of my strength
unlike wrinkle-free Time, weak and faint.
The notes shall always find their way.
Time is only moments, why should I care?


The Angel has been waiting since
I had gone praying.
The Devil then stitched my lips,
said: "God's in hearts, isn't it?"
He then grinned through evil smokes
and I couldn't utter a single word!

Friday, 20 January 2017


This story dates back to my school days when I was in sixth standard and I was poor in outdoor sports. Actually, without the need to create suspense, I have always been too poor in outdoor sports. In fact, had outdoors been a subject, I would have failed with the minimum marks every single year.
During the Annual Sports Week, everyone was encouraged with a clause of near compulsion to participate in the games. I too joined in. The preliminary qualifiers were on and winners of last years filled the crowd with ample expectation. I might have participated in many events which had all the same results, but I remember two of them.
I folded my pants and tried to bring in some feelings of being a sportsman, which I failed. I couldn't even imagine of being one for two concrete reasons: one, I didn't actually play sports, and two, we didn't have a cable connection until 2008. So, even if I were given a chance to imagine being a sportsman, I couldn't really connect to anyone except Sachin Tendulkar on DD National, who didn't play long jumps and running races.
The first event was the long jump. Like every other athlete, I chose to have my tempo built from a long running length. The whistle was blown and I started running. I felt like I was running fast and when I reached the decisive line, I jumped. It was not  leap of faith; rather it was a leap of the entire fat my body carried at that moment. I landed safely. The result was less than 2 metres. Fail. 
After receiving consolation appraisals from the crowd, and encouragement for participation, I proceeded to the next event in line: the 400 metre race. I had to complete the circle four times. The whistle was blown again and I started running. The air was too cold. Really! And I felt like a parachute, airy and lazy. By the time, I covered two circles, the other three had finished their third lap and were about to cross me again. I was, therefore, disqualified due to a sluggish run.
I huffed and puffed like an old moped, and sat down tired. The day ended, and I didn't find people so interested in my poor performance. I was happy. I, therefore, decided to go for the sack race qualifiers, but I realized that it was in the sub-junior category. Feeling grown up, I quietly joined the spectators with my pants unfolded and shoes on!

Monday, 16 January 2017


It was February, 2006 during the Board Finals of my tenth standard. I appeared from a private educational institute and the examination centres were all government. The students of our institute and nearby private schools appeared at the same government school. 
This happened on the first day of the Finals. Like every Indian parent, my parents too followed the rule of seeing me off at the examination centre. I was nervous for it was the first time I would be facing a Final, the simple reason being that I hadn't failed before. 
I entered the premises and met some of my friends. I felt a bit relaxed. I looked up my roll number on the list displayed on a board. I found my room and took my seat 15 minutes before the commencement of the examination.
The bench-mate happened to be a student of the government school and he seemed to appear for his third time perhaps (I only assumed from his appearance.)
He started:"See, little boy. I will need some help from you. So, don't hesitate. Otherwise, you know, you have more exams to appear for with me. I will check on you."
Oh! First, I lost my school swag: no one knew me there. Second, if I passed on answers to him today, he would trouble me for the rest of the exams. If I didn't, he would bully me whenever he would see me at the exams. I was trapped. So unlucky I was."
I told him: "Brother, I haven't achieved much in the field of cheating. I can pass on hints for questions carrying 1 marks only. Will that do? That is better than both getting caught, isn't it?"
He pondered over the deal and nodded his head. I got my first phase of plan executed.
The bell rang. The exams started. The first exam of my life and I was making a business deal. Strange and humorous, isn't it? May seem so. But I was the most nervous one in the hall. Now, these 1 mark questions formed the first part of the question paper. I completed the questions as quickly as possible while my bench-mate seemed clueless. After 20 minutes or so, he knocked a few times on the table. I understood the signal and started the transmission of answers.
I had already found out the most optimal solution to the complete problem. I told each of them wrongly to him. I didn't need to make much effort in convincing him because all were one word answers. He had to believe. Besides, he was out of options as he had not studied.
For making concrete demands of my loyalty, I showed him an answer which I had intentionally wronged. After showing him and getting a sense of confirmation of his belief, I corrected the answer. It was only a word, so it didn't much altered the impression of a clean presentation of my answer script.
I completed the examination well. The bully thanked me with a tone of superiority and left.
The next day, when I arrived for my next examination, he didn't utter a word. Probably he had thought I was a bigger loser than he was and that asking me for help was a tremendous risk for him. He then booked the boy on the seat in front of him. Poor boy! Had he known my trick, he would not have been tortured and bullied for rest of the examinations. 


This is a disclaimer: this piece is not to highlight any form of intelligence; rather, it is a recall of a life-changing incident.
It was 2004. The results of my eighth standard was out, and as expected, I performed poorly in Advanced Mathematics which I had opted following the suggestions of my intelligent relatives, father's colleagues, mother's friends, uncle's seniors, aunty's neighbours and neighbours' relatives. Well, the list is endless: you must be familiar with this form of Indian tradition. Now, this subject is peculiar to the State Board of Assam, and I must say, it was the toughest for someone like me who had often got confused with terms like perimeter and circumference, and the fact that the two words meant same in case of a circle. I could do a few sums of General Mathematics without asking for a glass of water, and that explains my limits. [General Mathematics was the compulsory subject and Advanced Mathematics was elective.]
My parents were worried and furious. I was worried too, for I would fail if I continued with the subject. I had scored 60, whereas the highest marks in the class reached 90s. In short, it was a disaster. Like doctors cure diseases, tuitions cure Mathematics in India. So, I was put alongside a home tutor. This is where the story gets its life. He was tall, around 6 ft tall, and carried a well-built physique. He happened to be a Lecturer of Mathematics at a college, and a colleague of my uncle who was a Lecturer of Physics at the same college. I was afraid because I knew he would have received complete license from my uncle to interrogate me. I couldn't even pray to god because even he would say, "Everything happens for your good, son. Even saints have tests."
I appeared before the master. He asked me my name and put the first question to me: "Can you prove that 'e' lies between 2 and 3?"
I was struck with momentary paralysis. Instantly, two questions popped up in my mind. First, what is 'e'? Second, does 'e' lie between 2 and 3? Really? Then what are 'd' and 'f' for in the English alphabet? This was serious for me. Too many doubts in a single question. I replied: "Sir, no." I was expecting a dumb look on his face, something like a remark of disgust and inferiority. Instead, he said: "Okay." Then he started solving the proof and explained everything to me including the definition of 'e' and how it is an important symbol in mathematics. I was relieved, and at the same time, realized how important a teacher can be for a student. His attitude of not scolding me at that point when I was weak and afraid of the subject developed a sense of respect towards him and a thought that 'Math isn't that bad.' 
I started following his instructions. The simplest way to mould clay is to treat it gently, so as to craft an earthen lamp. He did the same with me. He didn't make any compulsions because he didn't have to. His attitude towards me made me do those tasks. I improved and from a mere 60, I scored in 80s in my ninth standard, and brought 97 in my tenth finals in Advanced Mathematics.
Nine years later, I was pursuing my Master of Technology in Microelectronics and VLSI Design, and our class faced a surprise test in one of those subjects. I had forgotten my calculator, and the teacher was too strict to allow to borrow one. The 10-marks test had a sum which eventually, when solved, gives a result in terms of 'e'. I didn't have a calculator with me but I had one line of hope: "Can you prove that 'e' lies between 2 and 3?" I applied that, and got my answer correct, without a calculator.
I was happy and nostalgic too. Had I not taken up Advanced Mathematics and had I not scored a minimum 60, I would not have met such a wonderful teacher in my life and I could not have solved a sum of a postgraduate test!

Tuesday, 10 January 2017


Recently, I along with a friend had got involved with a minor project that deals with electronic circuits! Rejoicing over the fact that it got completed successfully, both of us have learned a lesson worth sharing!
Now, we used to visit a laboratory of sorts to carry out our project. The supervisor of the project was a young man with lots of spirit and knowledge. We used to discuss and share ideas on the project regarding almost everything, from design to implementation! The laboratory contained some of the most recently developed models, designed and kept for display. Amongst them were outputs of a 3D printing machine, a few prototypes of cost effective technology, and a cycle! Both of us could grasp some basics of all the displayed prototypes and products except the cycle! We used to stare at the cycle for long, everyday, trying to figure out the technology that it had! The cycle was the first product on display, which made us even more curious about its uniqueness. There was no additional machine attached, no circuit based device or automatic braking system. It looked so simple, yet, it received the best of places: at the front! It went like this for a few days, but we could ask no one about the cycle. Because it was so simple that the people there might throw jokes on us! We could decode even the toughest of all projects, but not that cycle that seemed to grin at us as if: "Engineers...huh? Did you read your books well?"
Our project began in full throttle. There was so less time sometimes, that we could hardly take a snack break in between. We worked. Sometimes, we were reminded of the cycle but the work load diverted us from discovering the theory behind it. Time went on and we were nearing completion of the project. One day, we were facing shortage of time as the project demanded rapid implementation of a number of tasks. We were about to miss our dinner when the supervisor asked us to have meal and return. Since it was already late, he said: "One of you may use my cycle to the mess so that you may return soon."
Both of us realized that the cycle we had seen on display wasn't an invention; it was rather a simple bicycle bought for transport! We have named it: "The Supervisor's Cycle."
Everything seems funny, isn't it? Of course. We laughed to our hearts' content when my friend disclosed this to me. But you must know a truth behind this event. We define objects by their places, not by their qualification or the uniqueness they have. We judge people based on their appearance, colour of skin and apparels. Although we must take these on lighter notes, but we must check ourselves constantly on lighter notes if we have misjudged anyone or anything! Otherwise, everything is fine, just like 'The Supervisor's Cycle': it runs on wheels!

Friday, 6 January 2017


I took to writing when I reached tenth standard. Two years before that, I was just like any other fellow who ignored the newspapers like textbooks. I was, therefore, weak in vocabulary and general knowledge! When I was in my sixth standard, there was a Junior Rhyming Contest. My father wished me to earn some laurels in English, especially after feedbacks regarding my poor stock of words were received from school.
I went, hesistatingly! I was clueless! A Rhyming Contest? Seriously? Plus, there were scholarly boys and smart girls from different schools. I felt like what a demonetized 500-rupee note might have felt in December, 2016 had she (let's be feminists at least for the sake of an assumption) been human!
The Contest started. The rules were something like this: each participant would be thrown a sentence, and he would have to rhyme that! There would be a total of three sentences! I wanted to finish everything soon, and get back home: the air was already humiliating me!
The first sentence to me was: "The significant cultural diaspora of Assam is enthusiastic!"
I replied: "Yes, the singora cultural diapers of Assam is like plastic!"
Dad frowned at me! I smiled, feeling some success at completing the statement!
Second one was: "The concerns for world's environment rise alarmingly!"
I felt something easier. I uttered: "No, the concerns for the school toilets are very lacking!"
Everyone laughed. I was an entertainer! Dad frowned at me again. I smiled again.
The third one was a real gutsy one: "Who would ferociously slaughter an innocent donkey?"
I rested my defence:"I would ferociously muffler my nightie!"
Dad stopped frowning! I kicked in the air for completing all three!
But that's not all! Today, I write! Just daring it is! Like the man who is brave enough to pee on a police station wall!


One of my friends was in search of true love. This excerpt is derived from a conversation with him. 
It was mid-September, 2015 when the Puja holidays in Guwahati were approaching. Approaching holidays mean attractive offers, and attractive shopping offers mean more women out in the evenings than usual.
He was returning home from office when he saw a young, beautiful lady in an overly crowded bus. He squeezed through the crowd, and placed himself near to her seat. She bought a ticket for the last stoppage of the route. He requested the conductor to extend his ticket for the last stoppage, paid him extra, and held on to his place near her seat.
He was admiring her traits when she received a call from someone. She spoke gently, made some feminine conversation symbols with her hands as she explained something. All was Greek to him! Thereafter, she requested the bus conductor to return her money.
Sensing possible change of plans, my friend asked the ticket master about this. Now, these bus conductors are clever and often enjoy the instant love stories that happen in buses. He smiled, and said, "Okay. I understand!" And he handed a new ticket to him and whispered, "Next stoppage." My friend acknowledged his gesture. 
As the stoppage approached, the boy decided to get to the rear door so that the girl would not suspect his intentions of following her. He unboarded the bus, and waited to see her. Seconds later, people unboarded the bus, but she wasn't there. Just then, he raised his head and saw the young lady seated at the window seat as before, waving goodbye to her friend who had just gotten off the bus.
The bus started. As the bus moved out, the ticket master grinned at him from the inside of the bus like a cunning owl! Poor soul! He had to cross the road and board another bus back home!