And it went on and on!

That session was followed immediately by a soulful rendering of "Happy Birthday" again, with an added bonus - the Tamil version. Drop by on your birthday for more details! Then came the cake - a big group had gathered around it, and everyone lifted the lid of the cake, only to drop it in a hurry. A hushed tone fell over the proceedings as I neared the place, while people looked at each other, each pointing at another. I opened the lid, to find the following words written...

"Happy Birthday Sharu! (Ladies Man)"

There are worse ways to get teased in public, I would say! Anyway, after a brief break when I beat up the guy who was responsible for that nonsense, the proceedings resumed. Another brilliant card from two classmates who I bore to death everyday, and the Coup De Grace was a special, hand-painted "Reverse Glass Painting" of Krishna.

Needless to say, I was in heaven. I treated everyone present at Juicy and Bakery, simultaneously making the Juicy Akka and the Bakery people feel extremely excited about this generous idiot who was giving them awesome business... and then left to the Basketball court for another round of bums + cake from the team.

Later, I treated a few people at Sangeetha's, and towards the end of the meal was further surprised by a really sweet card! With a grin plastered on my face, I went back to hostel. Yet the day was not over, as another completely unexpected wish, and yet another one in the wee hours of the next morning ensured that the smile didn't go anywhere.

It was, like a card said, the perfect birthday. Loads of love to all of you who made it possible! The tough part, of course, was waking up the next day a normal person. With friends like this, you'd have a year between two birthdays, instead of a birthday after every year...

The guy who knew nothing at all...

Life has a funny affinity to Irony. It takes great pleasure in presenting situations so dramatic, counter-intuitive and so perfectly opposite, that it can never be just coincidence. On any other day, I would have wondered why a friend suddenly asked for company to the water cooler. On any other day, I would have come right back and checked my bag to see everything was in place.

In short, on any other day, a small golden colored, glittery parcel would not have found its way into my bag, and waited 30 minutes for attention.

Impatience dictated that I carefully peel open the package while class was in progress. Out slipped a note, and the handwriting made me jump down to the signature, where I found the name of the only person who could write that way. I opened it, to find a deep blue tie. Which brought my tally of ties owned from the rather unmanageble number 0, to the much more pragmatic, 1.

The class ended, witha round of Class Rep bums by the northies!, and I left to meet the one who gave the tie. She said,"Lets walk and talk na!", and i dutifully follow. We talk about some random stuff, as is usual, and move towards SC to get her a juice. On any other day, I would have noticed that another friend would have messaged by now, that this one never drinks juice before a meal, or that we were heading toward the area of campus most frequented by birthday parties. On any other day, I would not have gaped like a goldfish, when 35 peeople got up form their chairs, and proceeded to give me another round of bums.

Shock and Awe

The time is 1.15 AM on 25.02.2010. I am sleepy, very sleep. I am also very cranky. My sister called from the US, and the line died on me. And nobody was wishing me.

You see, 25.02.2010 is my 20th Birthday.

Thus miffed, I decide to consign in the choicest of words the intellect and plans of my hostel mates to the dustbin of failure, and sleep. The clock ticks slowly, but I am unable to sleep. I slip into slumber eventually. And then it happens. The heavens crack, volcanoes erupt, a girl squeals and other similarly unbearably noisy events occur in concurrence. I open my eyes, the clock puts the time at 2 AM. And then I noticed an angry horde beating down my door. I rise, and with me, rises the most pleasing tune any ear can hear, above the din that begot it.

"Happy Birthday to you!"

What followed was 20 minutes of the most chaos my hostel has seen. Cakes were cut and thrown, cards were given, so were gifts, bums were doled out till yesterdays dinner threatened to inquire what the matter was, and water balloons thrown. Whattanidea, saarji! Shock was in the house, and he was blowing the roof off!

That done, I bathed, removing the sticky blue, foul smelling and itch-causing concoction they called 'adhu', and returned to find a beautiful custom-made purple card with silver glitter sitting atop my pillow. You could spot a girl a mile away, I tell you. First was the card the guys gave, of course... 20+ awesome wishes on one mega card. And then the gift, a perfect one, a book of poems/prose by Shelly. Then the purple card.

Details will be omitted. Safe to say, it involved an amazing friend, an awesome photo and an unbelievably sweet and honest poem. And me in awe.

So I slept, and waited for the morning, when on all previous 19 editions, my birthday actually had begun.

Assignment Infinity

4.00 AM

If you're wondering what the heck I'm doing up this late (mind you, its up this late, not up this early), I have one word for you - Dumb luck. Any person who points out to me that that was two words is going to get punched in the nose.

I sat down to do this AI assignment, about a century back. Gathered all the material, questions, pen, paper, chewing gum, water, earphones... the works. Then I assiduously read through the entire relevant material, some 40-odd sides of pure written torture, an atavism to medieval, S&M devices - so devious its intent, so perfectly soporific its execution. After a round of lightly flitting through the text, followed by some dipping, some reading and some soaping up, I was finally ready to give it a go.

That was about 90 years back.

What followed was a nonsensical waste of time, every second of which questioned my determination and intent to NOT copy the assignment. After getting stuck on a particularly troublesome problem for quite a bit of time (think 2.5 hours) I chanced upon a studious type on the micro-waves, who proceeded to tell me that the sum in question had no solution that anything short of a supercomputer could predict. She very worriedly informed me that she estimated the problem would take 50 cycles to solve, and my inquisitive glances confirmed that she meant evolution cycles. The rest, unlike what they say, is not nearly as much history as anatomy, coupled with a good deal of swearing.

I can't understand why my wonderful teachers set assignments they obviously have no interest in correcting, and make us waste our time. During a Cycle Test week no less. I would at least have watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Love and Cranial Recession...

Note: For and introduction, read this:
http://thoughtsbynitte.blogspot.com/2008/12/roses-are-red-yellow-and-white-too.html

So its here again, the time of the year when people run around trees, hold ridiculous heart shaped balloons, give the florist's margins a boost and generally exude an air of ineffable felicity. Contrary to popular belief, recession has not (if NIT-Trichy was a case study) hit anyone hard. Like a Tamil movie director would say, Love has prevailed.

Reliable sources confirm that there were as many as 913.1 roses sent in college yesterday. The final .1 was apparently a result of someone playing 'She loves me, she loves him more' with rose petals. As tempted as I was to dispute this figure, the sheer brilliance of it as a topic to rant about stopped me. I mean, if any place could manage this, my college could.

NIT-T is, well, a sort of a danger zone for girls. The last government advisory on personal safety purportedly included a special mention about this campus in Thuvakudi, and the danger of rabid, starved dogs therein. I'm guessing that they mean us guys here. The complete nincompoops who actually believe, on the pretext of optimism and romance, that sending a girl a card and a rose is the perfect way to start a romance. The girl in question would promptly proceed to either, a) Swoon b) Develop a desperate longing for the guy's company c) Throw roses around and hug her pillow smiling or d) All of the above.

I could snort my nasal cavity clean.

In the danger of being called a heretic/pessimist/party-pooper, I categorically renounce the practice as rubbish, hummus and bio-degradable waste. I see no point in the entire exercise except to allow very very freaky guys to exhibit their desperation to be heard in a manner so cliched and abused, that it's probably gonna cost them that small chance they had. When a girl gets a hundred or fifty roses, and she obviously can't classify all of them as genuine, I'd say there's a good enough chance she'll classify them all as nothing but the convenient product of hormonal imbalance.

On the positive side, an expedient lady could probably keep her room pleasant smelling for weeks.

A case study of love and cranial recession.