Live.Laugh.Love.

Today, while chatting with friends, I suddenly heard an old song playing from a radio somewhere near, " Babuji dhire chalna.. pyaar me zarra sambhalna.. " I instantly remembered the days of vivid bharti and DD-1. The magic of listening to those songs is something which can’t be described in words. There is always a binding force as what would be the next song played. And as I listened to the song I remembered our good old days of Chitrahaar. I remember, we used to count how many songs have been played in that particular episode. And the long wait for the “new song” which usually used to be the last song of the episode! Compare it with todays' infinite rash music played by numerous channels, continuously 24 hrs.. And add to the misery (or may be a BOON) now there is piracy, download those songs and take them along with you wherever you go.. That one hour “Disney hour” showing Tale Spin and Duck tales and today’s infinite cartoon channels all usually showcasing superm...

As the sun goes on burning through the days Self-imprisoned in our so-called hostel room, Suffocated, of heat, stink, and cigarette smoke, of the roaring traffic, and chaotic class mates, of the ever increasing assignments of studies, And of a million responsibilities and expectations; Numerous ideas graze through my mind, of escape. Empty thoughts screech past my ears, aloud, vibrant making themselves aloud, waking me up to the void I am in; where neither my mates stand, nor my dreams I head up to my roof, feel the air, the sky, vast; and see stars, few, and clouds all broken to pieces Something seems imperfect, why is the breeze not smooth? Why is the white cloud home to such imperfections? Something feels incomplete, empty from within, And then- I miss the moments- with you, priceless, You, who were a friend when I needed to lean on; You, who were a family when I needed to talk it out; You, the roads where I roamed about, unseen, unfazed; You, the big old desktop with games and movi...

Looks like I'm slowly making it a habit of writing a few posts a month. Well, if one has nothing good to write, why even bother to write eh. I see so much anger and bitterness in my friends and in my FB pages that sometimes you can't help but feel affected by them. I wonder why people are so angry everyday... all the time. Don't they ever get tired of being angry? Where has patience and compromise gone? Is everything about what one wants? Is nothing about what your friend wants? For every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness . ~ Author Unknown Well, moving on to something new, I have started my journey as an intern in the art and photography wing of a company. Well, technically this isn't the first, but I deliberately omitted the BSNL fiasco which was during my engineering career. I did not know what to expect since I had no idea as of how it feels working; worse on an environment I am not familiar with. It felt like as if I was in my point in l...

After a long time, during which I am sure the Indian Society should have pulled up its socks after my twin attacks, (A Satire on Arranged Marriages,  http://pratik-openbuk.blogspot.com/2010/10/satire-on-arranged-marriages.html  and Hail Aunties!,  http://pratik-openbuk.blogspot.com/2010/10/hail-aunties.html ) I am posting yet another destructing article. Though it has flares of the classic past of Indian Television, this article is a tribute to those Indian Soaps that continue to screw the brains of Indian Viewers by bombarding them with similar and predictable stories, high doses of melodrama, and floods of tears in the scenes. Thanks to the industry itself, the soap opera industry is losing its shin due to the emergence of shows like Indian Idol, Roadies, Kaun Banega Crorepati, etc. So here it goes(and it's gonna be a big post)... That was a fine little evening. I was at my home with maa, and my sis. As usual we were busy in leg pulling of each other. I usually won o...

I thought my inner being wasn't fractured but came to find that it wasn't true for in my head lurks a dark side of me that just seems to want to relieve you the angel in me begs of me to stop that the demon screams out a harsh no such conflict causes a great distress as I feel inside my mounting anger grow our interaction is a clash of strong wills so I find myself swaying away very far you are an enemy to my state of mind but my heart doesn't take this any more so sail us into the sunset whilst you can there's nothing to win out there if you stay hoist up your anchor while we're still afloat or let the current carry us any damn way..

Well, this post is dedicated to a friend of mine.. Writing about her never occurred to the mind, but somehow today it had to happen. It goes on like this.. Fact 1. We didn't talk(or talk once in a thousand times) when we were together in the school. Fact 2. We only knew each other formally.(though shes' a girl and as usually, girls remember a lot of things) Fact 3. When we found each other again after years, we talked as if we were quite familiar to each other. Fact 4. All facebook apps I use still put her in coveted positions. Fact 5. I(and for that matter she too) still don't understand how did I connect so easily so closely with her after such a long gap. Fact 6. Its too much boring this way. I should get random. Well, as a friend, I really love her, just for a simple fact. I don't know if I would think of her as the first choice if asked about who my best friend is; but I damn well know she's just somewhere near, everytime I think of being alone. She mi...

Well, what to say of this friend, he is a real entertainer of sorts. Just that he is a bit less matured, is what I think, but a lot more and lot else, is what others think, but here is ramblings about a nice friend of mine. Pale yellow tees. And dark brown flashing jeans. Really. This is my friend. He is from state of sweets, he IS sweet, and, oh, by the way, he is much sweeter to the weaker sex. " Tum iss baat ki chinta mat karo, main hun na, main sab kuch sambhal lunga. Tum bas concentrate karo. " Well, still I understand him. Or at least try to. He talks. A lot. Only that he does so about himself mostly. About his aspirations. About his dreams. About his past achieeeeeeevements. About how fine his chest and biceps were once upon a time. About how good is(or was, I don't know, really) his kick boxing. About how his state boasts of finer tea. About how people here are less interested in tastes and aesthetics than the land of Hoogly. About how good are his manners w...