Break ke Baad



“It’s me.”

“Hey.. What’s up?”

“I just called to say Goodbye.”

“Umm.. Good.. bye?”

“Yeah. Have a nice life.”


I wanted it to be short. I wanted it to be colourless.

Like love. Short. colourless. non existent. Break up call is something where you are supposed to be breaking up, alas.

I was burning inside. Never did I feel a stronger need to know what must’ve happened to her with this (call).

Days passed. Time went on. I spent days working and nights singing and shouting along to phil colin’s “I don’t care Anymore”.

When you are in relation with someone for a good time, everything seems to remind you of that ‘Someone’. Indeed time would heal the wound, but every wound before healing is bound to hurt more. Burn more.

And probably leave a mark.

Love is exactly like wound. Because it feels good to scratch around it. Scratch out good ol’ times.

After some more time, comes the time to stop whining about why did this happen. The Reason. Cause and effects. That time brings with it indifference, a sense of betrayal and remnants of untrust. Comes the time to wish the reality wasn’t this hard to mug. Comes the time to wish reality would be predictable. Comes the time for epic realization, that every relation is bound to fade, every affection bound to evaporate. What matters is time when the tides are gonna hit you.

I have come to believe that my sorrows are the only thing that are never going to leave me.


Select Excerpts from my Book : Part-2

Chapter-8 : Preparations Leaves.

PREPARATION LEAVES ARE THOSE THINGS, AT THE name of which every normal, I repeat, normal collegian (That would exclude toppers) relies to prepare for exams. Although, the actual purpose of PLs is supposed to be the revision of all the subjects, making sure you are ready for exams, a final touch down. But, for most of the people, it’s time they start thinking about something called ‘Study’. There is a PL life cycle, which works all-in-all same for everyone-

First, in the start of PLs, you are highly spirited and always think of scoring more than 75%. You keep discussing with friends how the paper is gonna come, and you study a little bit. Well, it’s just the start of PL. Time tables are made, and we keep believing we have divided our time between subjects as strategically perfect as it can be. In fact, we spend more time making time tables than studying itself, and most of the times, they are as idealistic as our great politicians. And this is not the only similarity between the two. e.g., both never follow what they say. ๐Ÿ˜‰

As a matter of fact, for us nothing seems to be feasible when it comes to studies. When some days pass, and you realize that half of PL is over playing games and going to girls places for studies ๐Ÿ˜€ , you learn it’s impossible now to score 75% with the time left, and considering your performance in the last days of PL, you submit yourself to the idea of settling down at 65%, i.e. first division. Time tables (Exam – manifesto) are revised, this time a ‘little more feasible’, and followed a ‘Little bit more seriously’, than before. The resistance we provide to our luxuries in the non-study days, like TV, games, late night chatting- increases and we fight more with the books, pressing hard to understand the words and symbols which seem to be in another language, thanks to our kind ritual of paying no attention at all in the classes when the things are being spoken. After a good day of study (atmost 3 hrs), you think that had we been studying whole semester, we’d scored great deal of marks. ๐Ÿ˜€ ๐Ÿ˜€ Which never happens. And now please stop comparing politicians and time table. All apart, we are still far better than politicians. Coz we manage to pass. ๐Ÿ˜‰

And the days finally arrive, when you have only 2 days left to first exam. Realizing that you did nothing in the whole fucking PLs, you settle down with god in your prayers to just cross the mark of 35, the hallmark of success : To clear the subject!! The tension building up in your head signals the mind to hasten the production of adrenaline, which fuels our understanding of everything, and suddenly we see that we are learning everything faster than usual!! Its the only good thing about exams, that you are actually able to ‘HOLD’ the books for more than 5 hours*!!!(* favorable, factory conditions)

So, there was I, again, in the same condition, like they say, ‘Never Better’!! I was in my room, with Nikku the Sister surveilling over me, this time for Mom, that whether I am studying or not. My cell phone was seized by mom, in order that I will have a productive study time!! Once you get into college, studies always haunt you like anything. Considering that you have lost the habit of poking your heads into [syllabus] books, you are stunned by the number of activities and intents your mind starts cornicing about. Moving your pen, frequently checking the clock, turning pages of books blindly to check how much chapter is more to go, and in some special cases, which porn did I put up last night on torrent ๐Ÿ˜‰ . I got my eyes off the book for a moment, and Nikku startled in the chair, ready to call mom. I threw one of Alpenlibes from my pocket, and signaled her to shut her mouth down. She took it, and again dipped herself into combing hair of doll.

I stood up, and started walking aimlessly. The time since I discussed the matter of Anusha with Amey, and he’d proposed idea of my being in love with her, things were really bad. I couldn’t help but think about her repeatedly, about the times we’d spent together, about the laughs we shared, the talks we spared dwindling nights in over useless talks, and……….. that last fight. The feeling of guilt was now strong enough to overwhelm other emotions, and it was getting difficult for me to refrain from ignoring her. It would be now 3 weeks, almost a month, I didn’t talk to her, although whatever she said that day wasn’t wrong. I needed to talk to her. Otherwise those fucking neurons in my head won’t stop thinking about her. I will have to redeem myself from the pangs of guilt. But, with cell phone being in custody of momma, it wasn’t an option. And the exam next day, mom really would kill me on this very immoral idea!! Fuck the morals!! Fuck everything!! I need to talk. If I would talk, I may fail, but if I won’t, surely I will!! I want that cell back. As the clocks’ crystal oscillated to make the final movement for 10 in the night, I decided something, and walked to Nikku. I needed her in this.

โ€œHey, sis…What’s up?โ€ I chided, putting a smile even wider than her rag doll on my face to lure her.

โ€œWhat do you want??โ€ She hissed, sensing the [unnecessary] love in my voice.

โ€œHow many of those you have received from mom to play a spy on me for her??? Be honest.โ€ I asked, signaling to the candies in her bag, my voice showing the authority, after her rude reply.

โ€œOhh…. No No!! Dad gave them to me. Mom’s not spying on you.โ€ She said, her voice lacking experience required to lie. I stared her for a moment.

โ€œOk, ok.. 3 of them.โ€

โ€œI will give you 5, if you can bring back my phone. Nothing else. Just bring it back. Rest I will see. I won’t take your name.โ€

10 minutes passed, and phone was there in my hands. With everyone in the home around, it was difficult for me to talk at the moment. So, I decided to wait for a while, and took my dinner instead. That would even make sure to mom, that everything is normal. The time by which I returned to my room, the clock showed a healthy 11 in the night. Everything was perfect. Mom-dad went to bed by this time, and Nikku couldn’t hold up this far in the night. I decided to not talk in my room, for Nikku could wake virtually any moment, and she’s definitely not entitled to listen the kinda talks we were about to share. I thought I would just apologize to Anusha and talk a while, so that I can get her the hell out of my mind. I thought terrace would be best option to talk tonight. But then, I must wait for even minutest movements to cease. I can’t take risks with exams dancing up my head. I checked balance in phone. 30 rs. I was good to go. I started up the stairs, and underway started dialing the number for her, but before even I could dial the whole numbers, my phone began to vibrate. I saw the name. In the nocturnal silence of the terrace, my heartbeats began to collide my chest, and the sound materialized solid, like a drummer playing his loudest melody.


It was Anusha………..

Select Excerpts from My Book Part : 1

Chapter-3 : My first Ragging!! ๐Ÿ™‚

โ€œSIR, THE TIME NOW IS 02 hrs, 12 mins, 34 seconds, 35 seconds, 36 seconds, 37 seconds, 38…..โ€


I stopped. I never told time to anyone like this, although I had to, today. Why?? Welcome to the 1st year of Engineering, where your very survival depends upon the amount of shame you DON’T possess, how much you can listen to the seniors and how much you can’t… teachers! But who would bother to listen time like this, anyway?? Who was this โ€œSeniorโ€? I don’t know. And I was trying my best to not convey this information to him, coz once he would know I don’t know his name, it would take another painful series of instructions and traditions to ask his name and remember it, for our next possible encounters! I have spent 1 month here, and I am yet to feel comfortable with this new system, where everything seems to be working opposite of what you expect. Ragging hungry seniors, assignments hungry and over-expecting faculty, who think you are pursuing B.E. for the second time, and above all, those sadistic animals, ‘Toppers’ with you, who don’t even possess an iota of unity, I

SLAP!!! I just felt a strong force on my cheek, and by the time I realized what exactly happened, that cheek got reddish, like I had never seen before.

โ€œYou fucking bastard, don’t you know how to stand in front of a senior?? Why are you untied at collar? And why the fuck you didn’t shave??โ€ He commanded, rather demanded to be provided the answer.

โ€œI am sorry, sirโ€ was all I could manage. It was really a NEW, wild experience, to get beaten by a senior, just because I didn’t fucking shave??? Who the hell is he to teach me anyway? Another Slap, on
other cheek, and I was begging him to let me go, otherwise they would see me crying for the first time in my life. But they didn’t pardon my request and I received another submission, in the name of Creative
Punishment. Another night to spare, rather waste, writing assignments of someone, whom I don’t even know (although you have to adeptly admit that you know this guy too, if you don’t want yourself copying a bunch of papers next night too!!) Maybe taking a course other than Engineering wasn’t such a bad idea…..

My Book : Part 1

Hey ya!
The time since this blogging fever has caught me upright, I decided to put some serious dividends to the effort, and most importantly, break free from the habit of not making my works public. ๐Ÿ™‚

So, apart from other content, I start this series of posts, in which I am gonna post the select chapters of my own-written book, “Engineering?… Hmm”
Quite shaggy name, I know..But, well, its that way only.
besides providing new content, this series will sincerely alleviate those excuses of my readers and friends who grieve they can’t stand my words for long time.. ๐Ÿ˜‰ I spare them the third degree torture and provide small tiny tortures. ๐Ÿ˜€

Well, as usual comments are highly appreciated as well desired as no writer is complete without the space and opportunity to make himself better.

In case someone is interested in whole book, which is quite rare, I would be more than too happy to provide him with one.

Happy Reading!
– Chirag.