Diary Without Pages

Trivia I find Ignored


Chemistry Deprives

I’m back! Well, not exactly ‘back’ back, because I wasn’t gone to begin with. Just couldn’t keep away. I know, I’m addicted. People here are too sweet to be forgotten.

Today, I find myself faced with a very irksome problem. This isn’t so much of a problem as it is a feeling of deprivation.

Imagine. Just imagine. Stop anything you’re doing and imagine. What would it feel like to be stuck in a tiny room, walls closing in, with nothing to keep you company but text books and the occasional cup of coffee, at this time of year?!

Nobody, I tell you nobody, with the tiniest regard for human rights would allow such cruelty. Even the homeless are enjoying themselves right now. But nobody had the decency to stop this madness. Evil runs free in this land.

I’m sitting here, dreading, the paper that is due on the 1st of January. This has to be against the law, right? I mean, who spends the last day of the year memorizing why hydrogen finds himself robbed of electrons by the bully that is chlorine? or Why Rutherford found time to play with gold sheets. And here, I thought gold was for decoration. His mother must have forgotten to read the manual.

The only ray of hope for me is the end of this wretchedness; which is soon.

Let me rephrase that, if I pass or top the class (failing is not even an option), I just want it to be over. Like in those reality horror shows, In the end, the fainthearted don’t care if they win the 10 thousand dollars or not, they just want to be get out of the scary mansion. Alive.



Study Times

Its exam time! and as always, its not pretty. I hear the moans and the groans that have one thing or another to do with exams as I pass the hallways, everyday. Its grown monotonous really. Faces flushed with triumph over studying 8 hours straight seem feverish. And faces so clearly dreading the end of time seem pitiful. The guy in the bathroom throwing up since sunrise? That’s just sad.

Teachers are everywhere. They were there before, of course, but their presence was not so strongly felt. They truly are enjoying all the attention, the suddenly heightened cockiness level is evidence of that.

Me? I’m the same not-a-worry-in-the-world guy sleeping in class. But even I have to study sometimes. I’ll be gone for ten days or so. Don’t miss me (Though, I wish someone would). And pray for me Y’all, God knows, I need it.


Guest Thief

Sometimes, when you least expect it, you are left alone. Alone! not a soul in sight. Then, and only then, you can do those things, that are considered socially unacceptable.

Before I tell you all my story, I have one request. Don’t Judge.

I was visiting the house of a friend. This guy had badgered me constantly for the past week or so that I must pay his place a visit.

“Why?”, I asked.

“Its fun to have someone over.”

I didn’t see the harm in a quick visit. His place was nearby anyway. So, one day after college I arrived at his doorstep. Rung the bell. Waited. Door opened. And the customary visit-to-a-friend scenario followed. Just when I was starting to enjoy myself, he went out of the room to get a cup of something, coffee, if I remember correctly. So he went out and left me in the room with his pet turtle, a fish, a rooster and a partridge (Yeah, I know, a number of pets!).

I waited. And waited. Followed by a lot of waiting. Some more waiting was by then, expected. I tried everything I could think of, from admiring paintings to counting sheep. He just did not show up! I sat there for the better part of an hour.

It took all my effort, awkward as it was, to raise my voice to the level that it could be heard in all of the building. Apparently, nobody was in earshot.


All those horror movies came rushing into my mind. The ones they recommend you to watch at night, and when you do! Well, its not pretty. Hence the word horror.

The possibilities!” I thought.

I decided, that by now it wouldn’t be counted as bad manners to snoop around his house. It was like any other suburban household, nothing in particular piqued my interest along the hallways. Like the close family friend that I was, I found a lavish meal for myself, and by lavish I mean half a dozen sandwiches, that lay in the fridge, as if, made for me. Who rejects a mouthwatering pile of sandwiches in times of starvation. I was starved, by the way. This act of stealing, in my opinion was completely justified, it was necessary for my survival in the strangeness that is, a friend’s place. Afterwards, my eyes rested on a coffeemaker. Go figure.

With the kitchen exploration wrapped up and with appetite sated and mouth still hot with coffee. Taking mind notes to make more awkward visits to friends.

” This is like an adventure!”  I thought to myself.

I felt like Indiana Jones, unraveling the mysteries of a rundown mansion. I moved on to the other rooms. Feeling like a thief about to get caught, I tiptoed across the living room groping for the ON switch. I found it with little effort. I turned on the heater (Its December you know!), warmed my hands in front of the fire. Jerky movement with my head whenever I felt  the slightest inclination of someone approaching.

After the warm up, I ventured into the bedroom. Here, unluckily, it took forever to find the ON switch. I jumped onto the king size bed. Laying there, I heard a sound of metal scraping metal, kinda like a sword being sheathed. Like a ninja’s blade.

I Bolted.

Didn’t look back, not a muscle in my neck dared move sideways. Why did I run? Impulse, I guess. Because now, I can’t think of a reason to have ran away. Would they have skinned me if they had found me taking a look at their private rooms? Unlikely.

The next day, at college, with a racing heart I greeted that friend. He was…well, like he always is! normal. No accusatory eyes, no anger, no animosity whatsoever. I was relieved. Seemingly nobody had noticed nor minded the empty plate of sandwiches, or the blazing heater in the living room, or the blanket of the bed crumpled.

How? Its beyond me.

He apologized for leaving me be. Apparently someone in his family had fallen seriously ill, and in all the commotion, lil’ ol’ me was completely forgotten.

Thanking God for this turn of fate in my favor, I spent the rest of the day thinking of all the ways this little escapade of mine could have gone wrong. The consequences wouldn’t have been very severe but still, I got away. Besides the fact that the house owner himself let me in, I feel like I make an amazing thief!


Protest – You’re Doing it Wrong!

Yesterday, on the way back to home from college, I saw a crowd at the roadside. All too familiar faces came into view as I got closer. My ex-schoolmates. Not in twos or threes but in hundreds! Seeing a horde of long forgotten friends should have been a sight for the books, but that is not the case when they are in the form of an angry mob.

“What in the world is going on?” I wondered on the way home.

I finally understood the downside of not watching news. A little interrogation from some acquaintances told me that apparently, the annual results of the local board were rechecked and things were not looking good for anyone in 2nd year. Hence a protest ensued.

This protest was not a normal one, everybody between 16 and 18 from the whole city was supposedly there. The headcount reached to about 5-6 thousand. That! – is a LOT of people.

The original plan was to protest in front of the Board office. When they reached the office, they, for some reason, thought that the number of people were too less to make an impact. They went out of there way to some other colleges, including mine, to gather some more people for their showdown.

The management at my college was not happy with letting the students go to join the horde. Might is Right came into play at that time.

What are 20 grown men against 50,000 younger ones?

Action of one person in such situations is manifold more effective. A boy threw a rock at a window, breaking it. What did the others do? As a result of what they did No window is to be seen in my college today. And in December too. Couldn’t they do it in June? At least I wouldn’t find myself unable to bend a finger without stuffing it in the fork of the legs every few minutes.

The faculty at my college are stubborn as hell! but even they couldn’t stand their own against this. So they let the college students go, advising them to go straight home. (Yeah! like anyone did that. Dumb-asses!)

The sheer number of students involved is astonishing. And they were in their uniforms to boot! Ah! That must have been a sight to see. A sea of blue on a grey road.

So after the snatch-and-run the mob turned back and reached the board office just in time for lunch. At first, the protest was like any other, a bunch of people holding a bunch of boards, yelling slogans. But that must not have been enough for the raging teen hormones, because after about 15 minutes, things started to get violent. Burning tires was not satisfactory enough, so they moved on to the board building instead.

Once the madness started; it did not end soon. From the looks of it there were many talented arsonists in the crowd.

After a while, police came. I hear a lot of teargas and firing was involved, 15 guys got arrested but were released after 3 hours or so. Somebody told me that the police was standing by the roadside for two hours before they started arresting. “Enjoying!” he said. You know what the sad part is, I believe him.

The funny part about it all was that some boys among the crowd before damaging property stole laptops and RAMs and other computer related stuff. I mean, how much more desperate can you get? Seriously?

A friend told me that most probably they burnt down their own answer sheets in the fire. Is that good or is that bad? I really can’t tell.


Yesterday n’ Today


Yesterday, I sat on my chair, and stared. I stared at my monitor. I noticed it’s size and tried to calculate in my mind how much it would weigh. And how much sound would it make if I dropped it from 7 feet above the ground. Just imagine how bored I would’ve to be to be looking at a computer screen trying to calculate pixels!

I hoped of being hit with an idea, that would change my mood. I might as well have been looking for eagles in caves. I failed. And horribly so. I had nothing to do. Literally! Nothing. Sometimes, you say that you have nothing to do, but actually you can always go to the kitchen to get a bite, go out, stare at the moth that’s been bugging you all day, make weird noises, you can even dig out a book from a bookshelf and reread it. I would hardly call it nothing. My problem was something else entirely.

I’m not saying I was out on the street, homeless. It’s not nearly as dramatic as that. Though I wish it had been.

I was not feeling like doing anything; not even bating eyes, I figured there is nothing unhealthy about not burning calories. Right?

I was alone at home. Normally, that would have been like a dream come true. But yesterday? I’d even have liked to be mugged, that’d make life interesting wouldn’t it?

Did you ever have one of those moments when you just feel like crying? Well, this was not like that.

I finally decided to surf the net. It makes me feel like I am at the sea (Surf=sea). It was an improvement. I came across Addie, then Bella‘s blog. It made me smile, to see both of them had written new posts at the same day. It changed my mood, but only in the slightest manner possible.

After that, finally, something good happened. It was the most interesting event of my whole day.

I fell Asleep.

I woke up after, let me count 1..2..3.., yes! After 13 hours. And I was still sleepy. Imagine that.


Today, I couldn’t bring myself to sit still, such was the electricity I feel in my veins. I am hyper; too hyper. I just can’t stop fidgeting. With the strong urge to go to the bathroom ignored, I’m feeling pretty psyched.

Looking back, I can’t believe how depressing the yesterday part is! Oh well, its written now, and I’m not in the habit of too much editing. Seems less and less genuine with every word I change.

Note: After rereading this, I changed 53 words. So this post is 53 words less genuine.


Baby Talk

We all have a friend, a brother, a sister, a colleague, or even a distant cousin whose place is like a second home for us. Imposing on them is a rule we gladly oblige by. Just popping in at an awkward moment is like an everyday chore greatly enjoyed.

For me this home came with babies, not just one or two, a whole freaking flock of babies, prancing about, sometimes they are cute, but only sometimes. The rest of the time is like a musical, with an extra high pitch, and dancing to boot. Calming a crying baby is one thing I’m good at. When the mothers are busy, I’m the man for the job (where I come from there is no such thing as a nanny). But the weird thing is, even though I am generally quite good with babies, I run out of things to say after like two minutes.

How to talk to a baby?

An intriguing query indeed, to which, few give a thought.

For me starter for a conversation has always been “What are you doing?” (Whats your name is used up, after the first time, it just feels cheesy). Its followed by “What are holding?”,”Who is that?” and the like. Those are the only real questions asked, really. After that its just meaningless sounds (these are almost always mimicry of baby’s cries), accompanied by pinches on the cheeks and an uncomfortable amount of kisses.

The fun part is not in the lack of words to say, its in the fact that everyone tries so hard to make the baby say something back, hardly with any luck.

How do you handle babies?


Things Happen

The other day, a friend of mine told me that a classmate, a guy with a pleasant smile and a new hairstyle every week, had been in an accident. This didn’t intrigue me one bit, accidents, for me are everyday news, and I’m talking about those tiny ones that don’t even leave a scratch. I’ve been in two or three of those myself. I’ve to say they make a very good story to tell.

What came next was what captivated my attention.

My friend said,”…and he died.”

I was shocked to say the least.

“Say WHAT!”

A white-faced boy explained to me all the horrifying details that lead to the freak accident. The one that was dead was not my mate but a neighbor of his, who was riding the bike with my friend, on the back seat.

Truck vs Bike, the rest should be obvious. I’d much rather not go into the details of the event.

The next day everything seemed normal, nobody had the least bit of concern for anything that had happened. To me it looked like everyone was a part of a play titled “Life Goes On”.

I came to admire the ability of a person to forget, it is a blessing few are thankful for. Just imagine, you forget Nothing! everything you’ve been through. Just the thought makes me cringe.

This has affected my mood far longer than I expected. I find myself continuously thinking about ‘how uncertain life is’. I found the words shallow before but now, I think I understand the narrator’s message. Life is fugacious.

To die lying on the bed, seems peaceful, almost meant-to-be. But like this? Surreal.

Hopefully I’ll get out of this sad phase in a day or two. A good nights sleep may do me good. I hope.