I chose d one less walked upon

"Yes, thats exactly what I said, from ECE, yes sir..."
If I sit and count the number of times I spoke these words in the past four days, it would be just HUMONGOUS...thus, I on the behest of my ex-ECE-batchmates, have decided to give them a piece of my own mind by jotting down the exactitude of the supposed ECE blasphemy I have committed by changing my branch to Civil engineering....

the reaction that I received from almost all elderlies i know was nothing less than an atrocious, unbelieving, unblinking and uncomprehending stare, which signified a vibrant mix of emotions, ranging from disbelief, rendering me light-headed, or rather, barmy-headed is the word, "why-is this-girl here"...some girls actually had the audacity to ask me if I nursed some special feelings for a person from our batch in that branch...as if that fact would be reason enough for taking a decision as surreptitiously major as this...some people think i went there because of the minimum syllabus n maximum free classes in that branch...somehow, no one, absolutely no one except my mom-dad seemed to accept the fact that i developed a certain interest in that branch in my first year...the fact either seemed too flimsy to be believed, or too high-ended to be reasonably justifying their elusion. Mom n Dad were the only two people who seemed to accept the statement in the exact face value of it as i had related it to them. Maybe it was resignation, submission, or simply blatant trust.

Starting from the gatekeeper of the Dean admissions department, the clerk at the semester office, the re-registration doer, the hostel clerk, the endless number of deans, everyone needed explanation, the same reason, the same discussion with alteast 50 people,I am exhausted...n happily looking forward to a rocking career being a CIVIL ENGINEER!!!!

IMPROMPTU

While the tides sashay past,
the high hung, albatross mast,
The lone star hums blithe tunes,
devoid today of ancient runes,
unworried anchor, gratifying harbor,
no storms to warn of this eve,
A certain unmethodical hubbub,
composed of sole jollity....

Just like a faraway mass am I,
I glitter allright,
sad or bright,
the pursuit of my rapture,
being only,
the magnanimity of ur stature,

I look upon things as small,
as things like you but not them all,
I eye them through the bleak corner,
of my glittery sheens..
I m no mourner,
nor a growling bard,
as my love walks silently,
past the burning walls!!

Memorabilia

I sit down jotting memorabilia

and all I gather is a mass of meaningless cacophony

ranging from subtle whispers of the young me

to the fiery tempers of the teen-sie me..

from the me who lived in green meadows (read gadepan)

miles away from the nearest supermarkets

sashaying past the rural suburbs, I was proud of then

and one more sweep of a blink takes me

to the time, when chords were all I had

whether be them those of circles taught tirelessly in school

or be them those of my own cackly voice

I remember I got my bikethe last of all

and rejoiced it, basking in its delayed glory,

I remember too, my scooter that is now ogling absent

my computer which then meant nothing more than a wonder

complete with mice and tail swishes

yeah...when web was to be feared, not prized, like now...

associating them with diabolic spiders

whn i lived so faraway from town, streetlamps glowed,

when i left house as well as when i returned

at dawn and dusk...

when sarees meant a drape of of mom's chunri

when rain-bathing did not reek of fears of damaged tresses

to the time when we first were scared of how to lie

when boys asked us why the "partial" teachers took girls to the audi

and Harry Potter was all we could cook

when evening games were not divided on the basis of skirts and shorts,

when the dvent of hotpants and salwars were far into the future

to the time of which I remember nothing, more than white ruled sheets and dubious blue ink...

to the time thats yet to come, premonitored by goru-gaaris (read bullock carts)

and loreal lipsticks...

and mango bags and suzy smiths

which sadly are not just fruits and cartoons...