Home- Mukta Sinha

The room in itself is big and rectangle with two different shades of blue . The fresh smell of the incense stick fills up the room in the morning and the mattress gives a warm welcome to people who come in. As one enters, there are two wooden beds on the right , one of which is my room mates and other,mine. One bed is covered with brown color bedspreads with little ridges on it, pillow and on the corner ,a blanket is kept. The other wooden bed covered with light pink and white color combination bedspreads and pillow also covered with same colour. On the other side of the bed there is blanket on top of which pillow is kept. On both sides of the bed there is wooden table. As you look towards my study table first glance goes toward the statue of the god. Next to the statue are the photos of my family and friends. There is water bottle, pen stands , calendar, toffees and my medicines. On the side of the table, post-its are stuck which reminds me what all work is to be done within the week. These post-its are changed every monday. Picture cuttings and some photos are stuck on the wall beside my bed. There is chair on which only clothes and bags are kept. The table next to my roomates bed has her stationery stuff, water bottle and statue of god. The wall facing her chair displays her paintings and cool thoughts. On the other side she has huge poster of her school friends. The windows in our room are covered with light greenish yellow curtains. There is a steel almirah, on top of which two suitcases are kept. There is an attached bathroom to our room. On side of my table there are two racks which is divided into four different sections. The first section of the rack has stuff like comb, hair oil, deodarant , perfumes etc.... The other two racks consists of books, files, other stationary stuff. On the last section of the rack slippers, shoes and sandals are kept. Now this small room is my home where I love to spend time.

Bedroom description- Chitra

Clothes,Clothes.everywhere. The bed is so unkempt.And there lies a gymnastic ball which I was supposed to use to lose weight. But seems like nothing can make me work on it except sitting on it , rolling and falling.Now it is just a blue ball lying in the corner. A new room mate ,a cute big bunny, sits on the chair,getting used to its new surroundings. He has got into the family of my dolls,the teddy,the monkey and a small bunny ,the monkey on my bed and the others, on the light table beside the chair.The white colour of the fan has turned to blackish brown ,collecting the dust around.The orange curtain adds a little brightness to the dull room.The chair with a broken leg stands beside my bed,functioning as a table.A few books,some medicines and tissue papers occupy the chair which used to carry my weight long back.. The walls are not plain at all. Different textures are created on the wall because of the moisture and the paints chipping off.
The other residents of my room are always hard at work to build beautiful intricate webs on the wall .Some of them leave their artwork after a few days,but some sit on it showing off how proud they are about them.These 'other residents' live on the top shelf and under my bed ,which is piled up with papers , CDs and carboard boxes covered with a layers ofdust.They have made their own sweet homes there.I don’t mind that.The world belongs to everyone.The roof displays a miniature night sky being decorated with fluorescent glowing green star stickers. I think I should paint my version of the ‘Starry night’ based on this.
The room is very small,without windows,quite crowded with a bed , 2 chairs and clothes - perfectly resembling the mess in my life .

Description of my room

Firstly, one bedroom just large enough to fit three twin size mattresses with meager space to walk in between is far too small for three young men on the precipice of adulthood. The lack of ample walking space becomes a real trial in the morning when our eyes have barely adjusted to the light let alone negotiating moving around others in our halfhearted scramble to prepare our appearances for the day. In addition, to the uncomfortably close quarters we share, there is only one bathroom to accommodate all three of our daily needs and identical schedules, resulting in muffled quarreling as we slowly come out of our sleepy morning daze.

As for appearances, a prison cell of the most poorly funded judicial system would encourage brighter spirits. The walls, painted a sickly yellowish tan, meet asymmetrically in every corner which might give it a certain element of charm were it not for the dark brown stains from human oils and fingerprints that have collected over decades that cover almost every surface. The bars on the windows, though entirely functional and necessary to our community, can’t help but remind occupants of the nature of the world outside rather than providing some ostensible security. The beds, to quote Lewis Black, feel as if they were designed by someone with scoliosis who was especially pissed off that day. My roommates’ general indifference to the miserably thin padding forces me to challenge my perception of what constitutes a mattress. The permanent brown stains on the sheets provided do little to assuage my apprehension of sleeping in this dismal excuse for a bed. My only salvation comes from the ceiling fan installed directly above my bed which seems to propel wind with the force of a single engine prop plane, ameliorating my back pain by gently caressing my body with gusts of cool air. Despite my qualms, the situation could always be far worse.

Kahoryao's room.

The whole house looks like a butterscotch ice cream. The colour of the house, which I am sure, once cream is no longer quite the style statement as it might have been. My room is no different. The room is on the ground floor of a dilapidating house. The room is approximately 10 * 8m. Standing at the doorway you can see two steel almirahs, two beds, two tables, two chairs and two people obviously. As you come through the blue coloured door, one of the two almirahs will greet you coldly; this is lined up against the right adjacent wall. There is a light bulb above the almirah, the switch of which still eludes us. Right next to the almirah is one of the beds, which runs along the wall. There is a small window at the end of that wall but we no longer try to open it, it's probably rust, we think. A thick but bright coloured curtain hides it. On the wall above the bed is an arbid collage, consisting of posters of varying sizes, sketches, shapes etc. Beside that bed and along the second wall is a study table from which the drawers are missing, and hopefully, have been put to a better use. I still cannot imagine anyone even bothering to steal it. The table holds nothing out of the ordinary, an alarm clock I never use, a water bottle which I cannot live without, a pen stand which doesn’t hold any pen, and an external hard drive (at the moment). To go along with the table is a chair that is mundane blue in colour. Above the table is a big window approximately 2m in length, which again after much futile effort we cannot open. We therefore thought it best if we curtained the window. Beside the table is the second bed. This bed lines up along the third wall and at the foot end of it is the second table that also holds a chair, and the chair holds more clothes than all the almirahs combined, giving the almirahs a run for their money I imagine. This table like the other one is missing the drawers. A lot of ‘creative generation’ happens at this table. Above the table is the switch for the fan and the only source of light beside the window, a tube light. Right next to the table is the second almirah that stares at the first almirah. Beside the almirah, on the fourth wall where the door is, two inbuilt shelves protrude which fills up the room even more spatially. The shelves hold materials we care less about and would not lose a night’s sleep if we lose anything from it. The centrepiece is a humble purple rug, which is barely visible due to it's lack in size. The room does not have a radio or a television but is always overflowing with music playing from either of our laptops. I wonder what it would have to say about the occupants if the room were not an inanimate object... hmmm... maybe it does....

Bedroom description- Payal

It’s a 2 year old room. I was the first occupant in it, soon after it was built. But it looks as though I have been living in it since ages. It’s on the left corner of the second floor of the building, which is a Paying Guest accommodation. The walls are coloured pink, which is something I noticed only recently, when my friends starting making fun of it! It has got its own ambient sounds - of traffic, barking dogs and not to miss, the clucking sounds of the chickens about to be slaughtered in the shop just down the lane. The room has 3 windows covered with thin and again, pink curtains, making it all bright and difficult for me, when I want that extra hour of sleep on a lazy Sunday morning. Just as one enters, the walls are covered with fancy posters left behind by my ex-roommate. Further inside the walls are completely blank and it is easily recognisable that it’s my side of the room. The two beds are aligned with the two opposite walls and 2 study tables placed adjacent to each other, against the windows, with enough space left in between for my small light table. The ambience of my room changes in the night, with soft yellow light from my wooden lamp placed on my study table, filling the room and Dido crooning from the speakers just kept next to my lamp - about that secret love that she will die of but never declare.
There is one small cane rack placed next to my study table, occupied by a coffee maker, various books and CDs and a spike buster for all my electric appliances. Above that is a soft board hanging on the wall filled with various reminders for the ease of my short term memory. Adjacent to the rack is another cane rack filled with old files, copies, registers, sketch books, a pencil stand and few grade sheets somewhere, cornered beside my bed. Between the two racks is my laundry basket overflowing with clothes by the end of every weekend.
A shoe rack is consciously standing right next to the door so that the outsiders get a hint to take off their shoes before coming into the room. Beside the bathroom door is my almirah, most of the times locked since all the clothes I need are usually outside on the other bed.
Evidently this room remains a home for all my thoughts and a good night’s sleep.

bedroom description. - Aniruddh.

Bed room desctiption - bharat.

The room rests at the end of a staircase. In the evenings when the corridors are dark, the room might almost go unnoticed if not for the little smear of fluorescent escaping the bottom of the door. The latch is slightly dented with faint marks of silver running across its black-brown surface. Inside, the room is pink and it hurts the eye to look at it. The color itself seems to eat up the light, almost like a black hole. Or maybe it is the emptiness of the walls. The window for most of the time remains shut. Being the only window in the room, it faces the sun directly and lights up the room like a flare in the daytime. And at night, mosquitoes and insects make it a necessity to keep it shut. The room could really use some more ventilation. Large part of the room, which in itself is not so large, is covered with cheap rugs that have been spread out like patches and over it lays a guitar case, two bags, a pillow and a blanket. The bed is too much of a mess. Piles of clothes and other stuff which is hard to categorize but includes books, water bottles and bottles are overflowing out of it. At the foot of the bed stands an aqua colored cupboard that hardly has any space for itself. One might have to be on the bed to actually open and use it. The table next to the cupboard has a dustbin underneath and a table lamp on top that does not work. Few spider webs are brewing around it. The only saving grace for the room seems to be the second door that opens out onto the balcony. Though, even that can be opened only for the short hours of the evening for the same reason as the window next to it. Overall the room is the size of a matchbox with everything packed into it and clearly there remains hardly any space for the owner of these ‘things’ to stay.

Filled in the blanks - Hari

It was too blank. Even after the things to sleep on were laid out, right under the window and between the wall and cupboards, the walls still seemed too empty. The cupboards were an entirely different story. They were built-into the room, so there was never much scope for placement at that. The entrance stared at these cupboards. You enter, and you'd stumble on the beds and take the cupboard's support to not crash onto the floor. But storage should never be downplayed. And so the cupboards stayed, and had to stay anyway.

Then the computer had to be put somewhere. The floor isn’t quite the best placement for a system. So a writing table with a bookshelf on top of it was put right opposite the cupboards. The writing table-cum-computer shelf-cum- bookshelf stayed on the left of the entrance, and the cupboards continued to stare at the doors, and vice-versa. Then a carpet. A dusty old carpet was laid out because the mosaic was starting to look like tiny ants. But the walls were still too bland. And too green. The window didn’t help much either. A huge double window, which let in too much light. The kinda light that would brighten up a hungover morning. Brighten it in the very literal sense. Who likes to wake up early anyway. The kinda window that let the light from the lamp-posts seep in at night. So two curtains, one over the other were made to cover the monstrosity. Green curtains, much to the already incredibly bottle-green room's distress. All said and done, the walls were still too blank. Slowly, a host of movie posters appeared on the wall on the left, next to the writing table-cum-computer shelf-cum-bookshelf. From Star Wars, to being Death Proof, on the Planet Terror with a killer called Ichi. So the left was sorted. But the right felt left out soon enough. So, an old comic book that never served much purpose, was stripped, page by page. A big, old, black paint-daub of an eye was put up right on the top of the wall on the right. The seemingly interesting pages from the stripped comic book found their way to the wall, one by one, next to each other, till the right felt left out no more, and the blanks were left blank no more.

COMICS-ANIMATION WAVE COMING IN INDIA

http://epaper.hindustantimes.com/ArticleImage.aspx?article=24_01_2010_012_002&mode=undefined

nilisha- diary

Saturday 16th Jan

As I put on the wig and looked at myself into the mirror, I realized my cheek wrinkles had increased and the dark circles added to it. I no more needed fake Grey hair to look old and gain sympathy. I stuck carefully, the burnt face mask piece and wore my old stinky torn pants to get to my usual beggar look.
I totally enjoy sitting in that corner on brigade road near mota archade.I like to sit there for the trance music and foreign crowd that pass by and give me money because of my skin.
I love amereecans. They are such kind hearted people. They always pay me more than Indians.
I got treated by a very beutifool amreecan couple for dinner who gave me a lot of five star food not realizing my mask was tearing out of my skin as i scratched my face.


Sunday 17th Jan

The sun was bright at my face and traffic sound woke me up today morning. I ran to cross the road before people saw my face.It itched a little near my neck.
There was a red patch and scratching worsened it. I washed my face with water and put the mask again. By the afternoon I couldn't bare the pain on my neck. It itched and I couldn't lie for long on the pavement, so I walked back home. I am guessing this could be just be a small skin allergy and will be fine in a few days.I got my favorite pizza home delivered.I think the delivery boy saw my face with thick kohl,this shoudnt be too bad actually. The rest of the day was spent itching my neck as it started to swell.I walked to the chai kade and sat there staring at the orange street lights away from the rest.People had started to notice me, they gave a second look to my neck as a small lump of my skin had almost started to hang. The pain also increased.I will have to go to the doctor tomorrow. I cant bare this pain anymore.


Monday 18th Jan

I got up at 3 am as my neck boil hurt a lot . I wanted to scratch it but controlled till early morning.
I twisted and turned in my bed but couldnt get sleep. As soon as i fell asleep again the boil burst and pus started to ooze out . A thick yellow semiliquid erupted like lava and covered my vest. i wiped and yelled in pain. I cleaned it for a while and popped pain relief tablet.
The sun was up and I was already tired and hungry. I knew if I put my mask now most people will get scared and sympathies with me. I went out in my vest and to my good luck I saw young boys and girls who got down from their cars and walked by.I had noticed the long hair girl once on the cruise in Thailand and recognized her now. I knew she is wealthy and would be surely carrying some in her purse.
I passed by her , directly staring into her eyes. We stared till we were far. She was scared. i knew that. I had stolen her purse without her notice. I knew i had the art.5000 bucks would be enough for three days pizza party, i think!


Tuesday 19th Jan

Yes i was drunk last night, and today morning i got up on the foot path. My skin itched as i shooed the flies from my face and my wig was lying a little further away with few coins some passer bys blessed me with.
Bhatla Bhai called early after noon and said he needs me some time soon. I was drinking that time again. I almost broke the bottle in my hand in excitement. I have tied cloth in my right hand to stop the blood flow. I think it should be okay soon.
I walked to my pet place in brigade road, sat near mota archade and heard world space trance music as i was high and stared continuously at the foreign girls. Theirs legs are long.
I want some foreign girl. I have been dreaming of her since then.


Wednesday 20th Jan

The lump of flesh on my neck is becoming better. I had a long bath today and cleaned myself up. I feel good although i wasnt in my usual beggar look. As i walked the streets i smelt jalebis and turned away from it.
You know Purnima loved jalebis.I loved it too. We met at the jalebi stall only. I will kill her rapists one day . yes i will.
I took a bus to the railway station to go and eat in the dhabas outside.I love the food there. while putting samosa in my mouth i saw a woman in the train. Her beautiful hand was outside the window and she had a thick gold bangle on it.
Considering my art and in fond memories of Purnima I lured the bangle. The train had started to move slowly. I was walking around the area to look casual. As the train took speed I slit her hand and jumped on the railway track. I threw the hand and ran with the bangle as fast as i could. People around were more shocked and confused how to react before taking any action which is why i managed to escape.y
I threw the black suit and wig in the garbage on my way home. I have the gold bangle.



Thursday 21st jan

So enjoyment began after i got cash in return of the bangle. I have been drinking only old monk since morning and bought pizza also. Some pieces were also lying near my bed, i relished those.
In the afternoon i walked to the lake and saw Basanthi sitting on a bench alone and smoking. She got excited seeing me and getting to know i had old monk and pizza she followed me home.
I loved bathing with her in the old monk pool. Even though her legs are not as long as the foreign girls she made me happy for the rest of the evening. We walked drunk outside the house and made out until the neighbors came and beat us up.
I dont really remember much of that but i have blue black patches all over my body.I also dont know where Basanthi went.




Friday 22nd Jan

Bhatla bhai called up early morning just to break my sleep. I was warned earlier not to do public activities and get noticed, but bhai got to know about the past two days.He has called me tomorrow, am waiting.
I chilled at my usual place starring at foreign girls and collecting coins all day.i feel nostalgic. My cloths stink badly and repel Indian girls I think. May be Purnima and Basanthi also went away because of this.
I drank old monk and heard trance and passed out on the pavement seeing amreecans.

SOMESH'S WORK FOR THE JAN 26TH 24 HOUR INTERNATIONAL CONTEST

http://www.24hdelabandedessinee.com/public/auteurs2010.php?id=9964

Obituary HKW

On the beautiful morning of 16^th Jan 2040, our beloved Kahoryao finally succumbed to his sickness to be with his heavenly father. Always the stubborn and lazy person that he was, he ‘posponed’ his death untill he was able to accept his fate. Even on this fateful day he would have wanted us not to mourn the lost but to celebrate his life, and be thankful for all the blessings.

So let us rember him as that happy, cheerful, loving person whose heart was made of Gold.

For being a man, a not too obedient son, a lovely collegue, a wonderful father, a great uncle, and a good friend.. we thank you and will always miss you... REST IN PEACE....

DAY 1

I woke up so late I didn’t get to see him leave. Uknow, that’s the problem with me, I am just too lazy and self centered. Maybe I should be helping out more. But what can I say I didn’t come cheap, and he should know to treat me better. He came home with the other one, I hate the other one, he’s dark, arrogant, stupid, and he’s not good enough for him.

DAY 2

Did I miss him again?? Yes, I did. He seems to have forgotten me. I haven’t been taken care of as much as I want to be. I know I am not easy to be taken care of but I still want him to love me as much as he used to. I remember when he just couldn’t get enough of me and we’d spend days and days together.

DAY 3

I’ve given up hope of waking up early enough and see him before he goes to college. Something interesting happened, his friend came by, I could tell he had every intension of taking me away, but my conscience was too filled with guilt, I could not cheat on the only person I’ve ever loved. His friend left with the other one. And when he came back he was unhappy to find the other one missing.

DAY 4

I woke up early enough to see him just before he left. I don’t understand why he dosn’t care about me anymore. Sure Im older now and I don’t look as good as I used to but I feel we still look together: him and me, everyone says so. It’s not like he has to feed me or anything.

DAY 5

I remember when I first came home with him, it was raining but he made sure Ididn’t get wet, that was when I knew I made the right decision. His friends loved me, they thought he and I looked amazing together. It’s probably because he likes to wear soft colours, and i am very fair.. you could say I was almost white in colour.

DAY 6

I had a bath today, it was refreshing especially after such a long time. I realised how sweet, gentle and thorough he is while doing something. I splashed water all over the floor but he said nothing. I was in the terrace drying off when he came up.. he sat beside me, we said nothing. He sat there for awhile and we both went inside the house, it was getting dark and i was dry by now.

DAY 7

He woke me up early in the morning. Today he and I were going to be together. He wore black pants and a green Tshirt so that he look good with me. As we all know white goes along great with black, i’ve always been amazed by his good taste of clothing. We went to our college together, attented classes after classes. He seems to be enjoying his time in college, and im happy for him. We came home late. He’s had a tiring day and he’s already asleep, I would be too if not for the smell, socks are smelly Usee.. and he forgot and left his socks in me... but that’s okay, Im still his favourite pair of shoes.

That Green Room - Digbejoy Ghosh

The green room stands silent and dim, like a cocoon without the slime. And the larva, obviously. Its almost always cold. The single window doesn't really provide all the light and warmth one would prefer, but the thin carpet compensates for the cold floor. The low bookshelf stands in one corner housing random tidbits ranging from Wodehouse and Marquez to The Rolling Stone Magazine. An acoustic guitar stands facing the wall, calculatedly placed by the bookshelf between the brown Bean Bag and the cupboard. A blue checkered bed sheet with matching blue pillow case covers the mattress on the floor by the wall. It fits almost perfectly into the little niche between the cupboard and the wall. A foot mat lies outside the bathroom door, a foot and a half away from the edge of the carpet, in order to minimise contact with the bare floor. A pair of slippers lie outside the entrance to the room beside another foot mat.
The walls are bare, their green-ness slightly overwhelming to the uninitiated. The cupboard doors sport a few Post- Its, also green, arranged in a neat column. Written down in a careful manner, they list a number of assignments and ideas for future projects. A low table stands near the cane shelf, a portable computer lying open on its Sun-Mica surface. The only sign of chaos is a bunch of wires behind the shelf. They run from the power strip above to the printer-scanner and the speaker system kept underneath. The foot mat outside the bathroom door attempts to cover another power cable that runs from the switchboard to the bookshelf in the corner.
The first thing he sees when he walks in are the strands of hair in the opposite corner. They lie in repose on the carpet between the Bean Bag and the cupboards, as if to mock his high sense of sanitation and hygiene. Brows furrowed, he puts his slippers back on and heads outside to fetch the broom lying in the corner between the refrigerator and the kitchen wall.

Obituary.

Aniruddh Dube, 23, died yesterday, the morning of November 1st, 2011,

due to heart failure caused by overdose.

He was born on the 14th day of February 1988, attended St.Joseph's Co-Ed School,

where he was always an above average student, and also a member of the school basketball and cricket team. He graduated from Srishti School of Art,Design and Technology with a professional diploma in Animation.

He had always been identified as an artist and animator with brilliant skills. his films, thoguh few in number, have won honours and awards at a number of National and International Film Festivals.he was also part of a Grammy Award-winning rock band called Unique Obesessive Mask-Making.

Aniruddh is survived by his parents, a younger brother, and grandparents and cousins, a loving family and many loving girlfriends.

A brilliant artist,a musician of unique talents, loving brother and son and a kind-

hearted human being, Aniruddh's presence in our lives will be sorely missed and we know that his soul will find peace and will shine in Heaven.

Diary - Jijo

Day 1:

Finally the weekend has started although it’s not too long but two days of peace. At least two days I can wake up late and laze around. God knows who made the school timings so early. If your mind is not fresh how can you study and whatever you study won’t make sense to you. Today Allan friends came home and got some weird music. Don’t know how they call it music it was just noise the artists made using hi-fi instruments. I dint stay long to listen other I would have been deaf by now or would half lost my mental sanity .In the evening I went Rohans house to play cricket. As usual I was the highest score. Overall it was good a day. Life would be so dull without cricket. Wish I could make that my career and get rid of studies. Enough for now time to watch some TV and then I’ll go sleep.

Day 2:

Sundays are good only after coming back from church, getting up early on Sundays is damn annoying. Have told mom so many times lets go for the evening mass but she won’t listen. Don’t know how it makes it a difference whether we go in the morning or evening at the end of the day we are holy. But whatever it is Sunday’s lunch is good. After lunch took a short nap, and then an evening of cricket. Mom is almost convinced to let me join coaching hope dad also agrees. I think Allan has lost it. The way he swings his head listening to that music am scared his head will come off. His friends are all retards. I walked into his room today and I could smell something burning and lot of smoke. I think he has started smoking. I asked his friends what it was and they referred to it as dope and he said it makes you go high. Wonder what the hell that is and does it have magical powers to take you high. They all look possessed to me. I should stay away from them they don’t look right to me. I think ill inform mom about this dope thing, she always says she wants to fly. I guess once she consumes this she can go high and experience the joy of flying. Tomorrow again back to school one whole week of educational torture.

Day 3

Am tired now, it was a boring day, dinner was bad, I don’t think a day could be worse. Even the games class got cancelled and it was taken by Mrs. Gomes. Two classes of Mrs. Gomes are like the worst torture anyone could go through. I don’t think anything worthwhile happened for me to write down. Overall a bad day that’s all I have to say.

Day 4:

Good day at school three classes off and three games of cricket. Hope these teachers meeting s happen more often and the best part is no homework for tomorrow. Today again Allan’s friends came and were listening to same music and swinging their heads. Some guitar thing they were talking about and going mad. I tried listening to their conversation and the music but it didn’t make any sense to me. I guess Allan has lost it. Today also when I entered his room I could smell that dope thing there and James was telling Allan that he could see stars on the ceiling and it looked beautiful. What the hell is he talking about? Who the hell can see stars on a room ceiling at four in the afternoon? I tried asking Allan what they meant by dope but he didn’t reply anything. His friends told me that he is buzzed. Wonder what it will be for me to get buzzed. I sat there for a while watching these retards and then these guys started talking about how these rock stars are always buzzed and that’s the reason why they come up with such brilliant lyrics. Allan can’t talk here while he is buzzed and these guys are saying these rock stars write lyrics. What nonsense these guys are talking about? I think I am also losing it with these guys. I need to maintain my distance from these guys. But I wonder how it would be if I doped and got buzzed. Would I also see stars during the day?

Day 5:

I think Allan has lost it completely he locked himself up in his room and is blasting music. He was alone in the room none of his friends came home today. He refused to open the door when I knocked. I think he doesn’t like my company anymore or he doesn’t like being disturbed when he is buzzed. But later on I again went to his room and this time he let me in. I could smell dope and I asked him what it was and how it made you go high. He said it’s a long process and he would explain it to me later. I told him even I wanted to get high and see stars in the day like his friends. He gave me a stare and threw me out of his room’. Don’t know what I said that offended his so much.

Day6:

Am drained out by Thursdays I can’t take it anymore. I can’t wait for the week end to start and get a break from this educational torture. This weekend I am looking forward to a cricket tournament which is happening in our colony. Hope tomorrow finishes fast and then I can relax for two days and play cricket .Today again Allan’s friends were over and as usual they all were buzzed.


Day 7:

Finally the weekend has arrived. I can sleep late till tomorrow and spend the rest of the day playing cricket. No homework also. I went into Allan’s room today after coming back from school and there he was with his friend doing the same thing. They all were buzzed and were blasting music. I asked one of his friends to tell me how it feels like to be buzzed. He started laughing at my question; he asked me if I wanted to be buzzed as well. At this question Allan gave me a dirty stare. I looked at him and then told his friend that I wasn’t interested. After a while these guys were still listening to music and swinging their heads, I heard one of his friends asking Allan to get some water. Allan got up sluggishly from the chair and slowly walked towards the kitchen. His friend quickly lit up something in a pipe like thing and told me to pull it from my mouth. The temptation was too hard to resist and I pulled and could feel hot smoke in my mouth. He asked me to inhale it. I tried but I started coughing. He asked me to pull again I did it and then he said slowly inhale it. I did that and i could feel something entering my body and again I started coughing. I did that twice or thrice but then Allan came and he saw tears in my eyes and my face red and I was coughing. He just dragged me out of the room and shut the door on my face. Then I could hear his friends laughing and Allan screaming at them. I walked to my room and I just lay on the bed. Everything was spinning. My head feels very heavy. The fan seems to be right above my head. Am scared it will chop off my head. I can see something on the ceiling but can’t quite clearly make out what it is. I have been starring at the ceiling for a while now but still can’t figure out what it is. The ceiling seems to be revolving. I feel a strange kind of happiness’. I think I can see the ceiling clearly now. It looks so starry. I think I am high.

Obituary - Jijo

Jijo John 44 passed away last evening at a farm house in located in Barasat while attending his parent’s 50^th anniversary due to an overdose of an unidentified intoxicant. Happy and cheerful as he always was in his last moments embraced death with a smile. May his soul rest in peace

Obituary-Chitra

Chitra, age 58, was recovering from a stroke in her villa in the village side.It was a near death experience for her and she said that she even saw all her dead friends calling her. Unfortunately, she died on the celebration party her kids had put up to celebrate her coming back to a normal life. She choked on a piece of cheese and died .Cheese was her favourite food and her friend had got the best cheese from Brussels for her. She died a day before her birthday. We will always miss her . May god bless her.

Ken's diary

Day 1

Moosy died. She was outside. And then the lightning struck. I wanted to keep her inside. But Grandma won’t let cows inside. We didn't even have a cowshed. She was pink and she had white spots. I can hear Granny murmuring in the next room.Hm.She always does this when she is upset. But Moosy was outside yesterday too. And there was lightning yesterday too. But Moosy didn’t die yesterday..
Aa..it is full moon. She used to moo so loud on full moon nights. I think she tried jumping over the moon. She must have. Cos I 've read so. Cows do jump over the moon. And it must have been so easy because the house is on top of the hill....

Day 2

I miss that glass of milk in the morning. I miss Moosy too. And today she was wearing grandpas boots and tie. Since the time he left her, she does this when she needs comfort. Maybe it makes her feel better.

We've got Cooper, but he doesn't lay eggs since he is a HE. He just does cock-a doodle -doo. I take Bigo to work because, you never know. You never know. Things happen. Even he could jump over the moon and get killed or maybe get abducted by aliens to test for some weird experiment. After all he is a rat. I got him near a drain on a rainy day. He was a baby and he was shivering and I didn’t see his mommy around. We made a card board box and put papers in it to make him warm .Moosy was kind of his mom because he grew up drinking her milk. We never thought he would survive, but he did. I thought I should take care of him. Mr. Jay does use rats to experiment. I have seen. I wish I was abducted by aliens.

Day3

I didn't even feel like going to work .I wanted to go to school like other kids in the village do. But granny tells me I know more than them. She is very proud of the huge telescope I made in the graveyard. I am not scared of ghosts ,if you think so.
Today, I went to peep into the class rooms at school, but the peon saw me and scared me away. He is a big ugly fat man who snores sitting on that wooden chair below the bell. He doesn't even move. I’m sure that chair is going to give up on him someday.
I guess I like those stars,the bright one there. I guess they are my parents. I don’t miss them, because I have never known what it is to be with them. The war happened then. This was the day.
Grandpa was missing too. My granny must have been a woman with super powers to fight the war and escape with me. She is great. She is calling me for dinner. It must be spinach soup and bread.I will get stronger and become a great man, she says.Spinach is too leafy for me though.....but I love cheese, so does Bigo.

Day4

I saw a book on stars - A complete guide to our galaxy. It was amazing ,I took some sketches with me back home . I am going to find out what all I see through my telescope. I forgot to get her roses from downhill .She is angry with me. She went to the grave without flowers today. I am sorry for that granny. I just didn't remember because I was lost in the book/ I cannot tell her I do this when Mr.Jay goes for a vacation. The secret doorway...and the huge library. She doesn't know who Mr.Jay is. I chose to work for him because of this. Not only for money.

Day5

It’s been a bad day...My stomach is upset. I am glad Granny let me have my bed near the only window in the house. I can look out , see the skies, the forest and the river below. It is said that there used to be tiger who used to eat up little kids down the valley. And even a demon who used to pluck out kids eyes to make a chain for his demon wife. I wonder if Nina became blind because of that. I never ask her because I don’t like to hurt her .She might just feel bad. I find her very pretty with the green ribbon. I have promised her that I’ll get her a white one with pink dots. I know that she will never know if it is a white one with pink dots or not as she cannot see. But I will get that one from the Sunday market when I get my money. She will be happy. It is cold tonight.

Day 6

I am still tired. Grandma has been giving me some really yucky medicines. I hope to get better tomorrow because day after tomorrow I have to go and clean Mr. Jays house. Grandma doesn't look too well today. She has been coughing. She knitting a muffler for me. Bigo sleeps most of the time now. He gets very bored at home. He becomes very active when I take him to Mr. Jays place. I feel like he can read the books and sense things. He is my rat. 'Like master, like rat' .He really looks like he wants to read .I think I should start talking to him more. He wants to say some things to me. The sky looks funny today. I can smell the rain. I hope it doesn't rain .We still haven't fixed the leaking roof.
And then Cooper is not going to wake me up in the morning. He gets throat- problems and cannot do his cock- a-doodle-doo for few days. She just sits on my window sill. I like the window because I can look out and see so much. I like seeing things.

Day 7


I went for work today. The river was unusually calm today. They were many people on the boat. They looked like tourists and they were quite fascinated by the scenery around. They had cameras too. I wish I too had one so that I could have taken pictures of all the things I wanted and put it in my diary. I could have had Moosy to look at in my diary when I miss her. Mr.Jay got me some a brilliant red coloured stone. I never thought he would get me anything. It was tiring to clean the whole place. As he was in his lab most of the time, I could read the Book of Spells in the library. He spent most of his time in the lab. It looked as if he was going to invent something soon. I peeped in and saw different colours of smoke. I wonder what he is up to.

Obituary - Hari

Hari Shankar, passed away rather violently in his sleep last night. Like he always said and we all expected, the liver gave up before the lungs did, and the dialysis machine couldnt take it anymore. It truly is a sad day in the history of troubleshooting.
He was a good son, brother, husband, father, friend, and a terrible cook.
Born on the 5th of December 1986, he was a puny kid who liked to draw and read. But his first computer killed both with a vengeance. He was an average student and an above average geek, but a pleasant one he was.
College was experimentation, in all possible aspects. He learnt how to be socially responsible and irresponsible at the same time. He worked and got kicked out of several odd jobs, till he settled for a newspaper. College would be remembered as the time that was, and never should be.
Soon, after much debate with his computer, he decided that he'd make cartoons (Animation would be too technical, so to say). He went on to make 8 short films in the next 15 years. 3 of which have an incredibly haughty 2000 hits (and counting) and the rest crawling steadily to a 1000 hit mark on YouTube. He also worked at 2 firms, before settling for freelance jobs.
After all these years of cigarette and alcohol abuse, and much contemplation about which one would hit first, he has left the building. Finally.

Lesson Plan 23.1.2010

23.1.2010

9.30 am to 1.00 pm
On Narratology/Narratives

1. Narrative orders time and space into forms
2. Narratives help us construct or deconstruct meaning
o Denotation/connotation
o Tradition (Conservative)/Contemporary (Modern, Post Modern, Deconstructionist - Liberal)
o Subversion – Eg. Use of the film “Intolerance” as an example of subversion. Subversion
o Forms/sequence/story
o Hayden White: "Far from being one code among many that a culture may utilize for endowing experience with meaning, narrative is a meta-code, a human universal on the basis of which transcultural messages about the nature of a shared reality can be transmitted."
3. Narratives enable sharing of information, knowledge, wisdom.
• Extensions of narrative – Hebrew-Christian-Koranic
• Proprietary vs Open Source narratives
• Simple/Complex narrative – Eg. This the house that Jack built
4. Narrative-making must include choice of narrative genres and narrative media – print, video, digital, etc.
5. Narrative enables the analysis of culture.

Discourse and Story:
"Story" refers to the actual chronology of events in a narrative:

a) Beginning
b) Middle
c) End

3-act structure

a) First
b) Next
c) Then
d) After That
e) What
f) Finally


Discourse refers to the manipulation of that story in the presentation of the narrative. These terms refer, then, to the basic structure of all narrative form. Story refers, in most cases, only to what has to be reconstructed from a narrative; the chronological sequence of events as they actually occurred in the time-space (or diegetic) universe of the narrative being read. The closest a film narrative ever comes to pure story is in what is termed "real time." In literature, it's even harder to present material in real time. One example occurs at the end of the Odyssey (Book XXIII, pages 467-68); Odysseus here presents the story of his adventures to Penelope in almost pure "story" form, that is, in the chronological order of occurrence. Stories are rarely recounted in this fashion, however. So, for example, in the Odyssey, we do not begin at the chronological start of the story but in medias res (in the middle of things), when Odysseus is about to be freed from the isle of Calypso (which actually occurs nearly at the end of the chronological story which Odysseus relates to Penelope on p. 467). Discourse also refers to all the material an author adds to a story: similes, metaphors, verse or prose, etc. In film, such manipulations are extended to include framing, cutting, camera movement, camera angles, music, etc.

http://www.webwinds.com/odyssey/calypso.htm

“On the lush, luxuriant island of Ogygia, Odysseus in the Odyssey spends seven years of his ten year journey home with the beautiful seductive nymph Calypso, who virtually possesses him and compels him to live a sensual but vegetative existence. For ten years, surrounded by men, he lived out the male heroic ideal of warrior, then spent several years further testing himself against otherworldly obstacles. In the process, he lost all of his companions, and has nothing left but the little that remains of himself.”

The narrative gets complicated when various elements from other disciplines like psychology, history, anthropology etc, are brought in or when such readings are possible from the text.
Diegesis: A narrative's time-space continuum, to borrow a term from Star Trek. The diegesis of a narrative is its entire created world. Any narrative includes a diegesis, whether you are reading science fiction, fantasy, mimetic realism, or psychological realism. However, each kind of story will render that time-space continuum in different ways. The suspension of disbelief that we all perform before entering into a fictional world entails an acceptance of a story's diegesis. The Star Trek franchise is fascinating for narratology because it has managed to create such a fully realized and complex diegetic universe that the narratives of all five TV shows (TNG, DS9, STV, Enterprise,, the original Star Trek) and all the movies occur, indeed coexist, within the same diegetic time-space.
Narration refers to the way that a story is told, and so belongs to the level of discourse (although in first-person narration it may be that the narrator also plays a role in the development of the story itself). The different kinds of narration are categorized by each one's primary grammatical stance: either 1) the narrator speaks from within the story and, so, uses "I" to refer to him- or herself; in other words, the narrator is a character of some sort in the story itself, even if he is only a passive observer; or 2) the narrator speaks from outside the story and never employs the "I" (third person narration). Other narration modes are third-person omniscient narration; third-person-limited narration; and objective treatment.

Homework:

1. Find Homer’s Odyssey (available on the Web) and read Book 5 and Book 23.
2. Read Hills Like White Elephants
3. Write a 300-word description of your bedroom or create a 8-frame visual description of your bedroom as a narrative flow.

Diary.

Saturday:
Another day.
Another morning. Fuck. Its all the same EVERY SINGLE day. If only this room was a little bigger and less GREEN.
Now in another 5mins he will come stand here, showing me his yellow teeth, smelling like dead rats. As if the stench of this room isn't enough! He will come, start cleaning his teeth,and tongue, and will show me the dirtiest sight of my life; the foam in his mouth. That dirty white thing makes me want to throw up.
Its better to look at this closed door. I keep wishing for time to stop here.

Sunday:
What do you do when you're stuck, and immobile?
What do you do when you have to look at the same fart-faced fucker every morning?
Im so SICK of my life.
I wish for a miracle. Or an earthquake. I want this place to fall and crumble into a million pieces with me.
Everyday I get dirtier and stinkier. I have splashes of dirty water and spit, there are cobwebs on my back, lizards hiding behind me; I was SO much better off in that previous place. So what if there was a little competition and a little more jealousy? At least there was someone to wipe my face everyday!

Once in a while though, I have a relatively brighter morning. Quite fuckin' bright, actually. This generally happens on days when he brings home his girlfriend. Or wife. I dont know. Im not too sure. I can only hear their muffled voices. Sometimes they're really loud. The closed door cannot really block anything at those times. I dont know about them, but MY life gets a LOT better when the next morning she walks in through that door and walks towards me and stops about a foot away from me. Then she takes her clothes off in a rather lazy (read slow) fashion. Her long, brown, wavy hair falls gently on her shoulders and then on her perfectly rounded breasts. She turns left and right a few times, her soft skin glowing in the morning light. Those five minutes make me want to never leave this place.

Sometimes I wonder though, why, and what-in-Gods-name is she doing with that asshole. He does NOT deserve her. Not even ONE bit. And I dont belong to this place.

I belong with her. I miss seeing her.

Monday:
I know I wrote last night that I miss that previous place, and also why I am still here.
But the two are so different from each other. That place, had SO much more to it. I could see so many people everyday, walking by, smiling, at me, at each other, some actually came and held me, some just looked at me with a blank stare, while some with a more pensive, or sad look. That place had so much life. Everyday was like a new story. I could see myself through all my beautiful friends.

Its really sad that we end up like this. All of us. Alone, in some house, some room, all our life. Some of us fall off though, before our time. At this point in my life I consider those ones lucky. I wish for that end. Anyway I have no life. And one view with all gross things almost carefully added to it.

Tuesday:
THINGS I HATE:

I hate my life.
I hate the fart-faced fucker.
I hate lizards.
I hate cobwebs.
I hate being filthy.
I hate this place.
I hate this smell.
I hate the fact that im small and cheap.
I hate the fact that I can do nothing about it.
I hate when he stands naked in front of me.
I hate everything right now.
FUCK!

Wednesday:
Highlight of the Day:

I almost fell today.
It could have been my luckiest moment.


I really need a miracle. Really.

Thursday:
I wish for something new.
I need to be taken out. I need love and care. I know that she can give me all of that. But how do I get her to take me away from here? One way is to keep getting filthier and filthier. That way at least to see herself, she will have to clean me. For which she will touch me with her soft hands. She will be really close to me. The very thought of it gives me goosebumps. I miss seeing her walk in here. I miss seeing her getting naked. She's the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Beautiful, but distressed. There is so much sadness in her eyes. I really just want her to smile at me once. I dont know why she is that way. But I know its his fault. I dont know what that fucker is doing to her. I hope she smiles when she's not with him. I hope he dies for this.

Friday:
Today the day has been MUCH MUCH better. It actually is probably the best day of my life so far.

He came in today morning and left no stone unturned in showing me the real meaning of the word gross. But, what followed that was scary, but the most beautiful thing that I have ever experienced!

He was standing in front of me, and then, he took off all this clothes. He had a blank stare in his eyes, and then he walked away. After about fifteen minutes of water sounds, he came back and stood in front of me again. This time he was naked AND wet. It was a feeling I cannot explain. But I did hope to shatter into pieces at that moment. I wanted to cry. His hands were on his crotch and I was looking away by then. And just when he started with his almost silent moans, I heard a loud thud, and then a lot of helpless movement, and a lot of crying and yelping for help followed that thud. The screaming dissolved into moans,which were more of excruciating pain this time. Soon even the moans went silent. And then there was no movement. Everything was dead. And so was he. Its been about 11hours since that happened. He's still here. And he's not moving. I have some spots of blood on me. I dont exactly know what happened, but I do know that soon someone will come and get me out of here. Very soon.

Im very happy today!!!

Obituary - Digbejoy Ghosh

The man who stuck it to the Man is no more. The end of an era ladies and gentlemen. Few realise the magnitude of this tragedy. Only those who choose to brave the path of Truth can mourn the loss of such a titan. Dig, known to cyberspace invaders and techno junkies alike, suffered a massive multi-server shutdown and was forced to disconnect himself from the Web for the very last time. His contribution to open source technology and multi-user input interfaces will never be forgotten. He shall live on in the databases of Mankind as the one who challenged corporate behemoths into relinquishing control over the lives of millions, trapped in the power game of Internet information.

We shall sorely miss your presence and wisdom.

May your soul forever cruise the information highways and watch over us.

Amen.

Journal of A Farmer - Bharat

Day 1
The crops seem to be coming along well even in this heat. The biosphere seems to be a good investment even though I am still paying off the debts. Three more years and it will be all mine. Maybe I can even sell it to someone and buy a better one. That would mean more loan but for me, what doesn’t ? The good thing is at least I have a rain right at my finger tips when I want it. The feeding machine stopped working again and had to feed all the cows by hand. Asked Mintu for a hand but he still seems to be disappointed for not being able to go to college. I don’t blame him. The poor boy studied hard all his life to become a space scientist but bad luck has usually has a good timing. There was The Great Storm and all that. I don’t know why I keep on wondering about it but life would have been less harsh if the storm hadn’t happened. My wife will be coming back the day after from her mother’s. I hate to admit but I am sort of looking forward to it. I’m tired of eating this machine made food. There will a power cut in about half an hour so I guess I check up on the cows once and then turn in to bed.

Day 2
Mintu was gone all day. Came back at night. Says he is working on a project of his own. I don’t know what the heck is going on in his head but if only he could give up this crazy idea that he can still become a space scientist. With all these regular power cuts I could really use a hand. I don’t understand how the boy thinks. Says he is trying to create a new kind of space pod that will only be manned by one person. I don’t understand any of that science but I understand that with all these power cuts I could really use a hand. I have been lenient with him till now to give him some time but if he continues I swear I will give him a good thrashing and for a 20 year old boy that is such not a nice thing. I don’t know where he is getting the money from either. And I don’t like that he goes over the hills. Its not a nice place to be. The people there are all mixed breeds, half humans. They are the ones that chose to amalgamate. None of them is pure. They are all shudras. I think I will take him to pujari baba for a talk. Maybe he can fix his head. I will be leaving early tomorrow morning to Delhi to find some parts for the machine. Mintu will have to go to pick up his mother from the station. Maybe I can give him the keys to old hover tractor. That might make him a bit happy.

Day 3
This was my second trip to the city after the Great Storm. It still is pretty much as it was the last time. Nothing but ruins and old buildings. Its hard to believe that this place was the capital in the last century. Right now all that remains of the capital is a couple of scattered museums that no one really cares about. Even school refuse to take kids on a trip there. But this place is great for cheap second hand stuff. The entire place is underground and stretches out for miles in any direction. I had to hire a guide to take me through it. Most of the place is actually empty and goes like catacombs. Thank god that a found a guide. Sometimes you can’t even get one to take you. They refuse. They simply refuse. This guide told me its all because of the government raids, that they have to careful. I asked him what if I was a government official. He looked at me for a second and laughed it off. It ticked me off but I didn’t have much of a choice. These people think too much of themselves. Just because they run this little illegal business doesn’t make them any better than me. I still have a higher caste. At the shop I easily found the parts I needed, paid the dealer and was on my way out. I didn’t want to really stick around any longer than necessary. The air down there is really fowl and it gets suffocating after a while. My wife would have been back home by now and I gave the keys of the tractor to Mintu. I’m staying at a small inn for the night and it stinks worse than anything. There is nothing but the smell of piss and dust in the air. I decided not to eat anything. Tomorrow I will have to start early tomorrow morning.
Day 4
My wife was home when I got back and it seemed like a good day. I had made it in the time for breakfast. Mintu for some reason hung around at home today. Mostly brooding over his notebooks but it was nice to have him around. In the late afternoon I replaced the parts of the machine and the cows could be fed and milked automatically again. In the evening I went out in the village to meet Ramnaresh. We both sat and smoked hookah. After ages hookah still hasn’t changed and I’m thankful for that. He was talking about some revolution being stirred by the shudras about how they want equal rights. He spat at their names. He is always full of these big talks of change and revolutions for worse or for good. Revolution! Ha! The way I see it they should be exterminated. All of them. God did not make machine. God made man. It is not right for a man and machine to mix and create something else. They are all monsters. He started to ask about my son. But then stopped suddenly. I think I know why. Tomorrow I am taking him to meet pujari baba no matter what. While leaving Ramnaresh told me to be a bit careful. I don’t know about what though. He is slightly crazy. I had a small talk with my wife after coming home. She seems happier. I told Mintu that we are going to meet pujari baba tomorrow. He did not argue for once. Maybe he does have a bit of his head in the right place.

Day 5
My son! My son! There was nothing but smoke and my son had disappeared. My son cannot be found. Why is this happening? When I woke up I could see smoke rise from over the hill. So much smoke that it blacked out the sky. I could see figures moving up on the hill. That stupid idiot getting mixed with these wild people. OH GOD! What have the shudras done to my son? I searched for him all day and I can’t find him. What have they done to him? I will kill them one by one. All of them…
Day 6
There is still smoke in the sky. Ramnaresh came in the morning and we both went to the police to file a report. We took the elevator up to the station. A long elevator ride and I could see a bit over the hills. Everything was burned down. There was no one to be seen. They had all moved. The station looked over the entire district like a watchtower. The place had always frightened me. I can’t imagine being locked up two hundred feet up in the sky with these ruthless people. Kalki , they call themselves. They told us that a search party had already gone to look over at the ruins and no one had been found but no sign of anyone being dead either. Hesitantly I told them that I think my son was with the shudras. They looked at me with such cold contempt. I would have run away at the instant if not for my son. They said they cannot file an abduction report because my son had to have been abducted from the house, if not then he went there by his will. I refuse to believe that. They said that they will come tomorrow to take a look at my house. It took us all day and again there is no electricity. My wife has locked herself in a room and I left her to it. That is how she deals with loss. Tomorrow they will come.

Day 7:
Why would my son do such a thing? I still can’t believe it. I refuse to believe it. I mean he said he was going there to work on some goddamn space pod. Why would he? I should have never gone to the police. They came and searched his room. And now all of a sudden my son is a fugitive. He is to be blamed for the fires. I can’t believe it. But they found writings in his notebooks. He was nice boy. I could have never imagines him to do this. Oh god. What am I going to do?

A Sea Voyage - Digbejoy Ghosh

DAY 1
The sickness seems to have worn off. Temporary pulmonary edema apparently. I always thought that shit happened to mountaineers. What a waste of a day! Then again there isn't much to do when you're stranded on a ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The weather changes in minutes. Open blue skies, the sun baking behind your back followed by soft sprays of rain that come and go. Its like playing a guessing game with Mother Nature. And you can tell She's doing it just for kicks.
The Islands are just five days away. I keep telling myself this over and over again to keep from jumping overboard. Sometimes I think its better to try my luck with the Reef Sharks than being tossed around in my bunk all day. Then again maybe not. Urban legend tells of a group of divers who surfaced after a dive to find chunks of their limbs missing. They could see the black tipped fins circling in a feeding frenzy around the boat just before they collapsed on deck.
The captain's a cheerful fellow. The very stereotype that we are taught to disbelieve. You'd recognise his silver hip-flask anywhere. His boisterous, back-slapping nature adding an endearing quality to his character. He appears to be a true man of the sea. Last week, we watched him merrily chatter with his crew while the waves tossed us about mercilessly during one of those equatorial storms that seem to frequent these latitudes. Am I glad we made it out of that one. Although I do feel a little sorry for having regurgitated my dinner all over the wooden floors. Considering the fact that rations are limited and we are on an “exploratory” voyage.

DAY 2
Sunday morning. I'm sprawling on a pearl white beach, a cool breeze blowing into the azure waters that lie in front of me. The sun is perfect, filtering in through cloudy patches casting playful shadows on the sand. And suddenly the dream is over. I'm back in my stinking bunk trying to focus on the light fixture two feet above my head. Breakfast was the same old stuff. Tinned food, baked beans and bread. It was only after eating my fill did I notice something amiss. Everybody on board looked rather grave. Even the Captain seemed a little tense. After a little interrogation I found out what the trouble was. While I lay dreaming in my cabin, the sailor on watch sighted an unknown vessel in the distance. It was only when it began to pick up speed did they realise that we were close to the Somali coast. Piracy on the high seas were no longer a myth of the past. These buccaneers were ferocious gun-toting men who spared no one during their rampages. Very often they would take captives for ransom, who were of course never heard from again, whether or not the ransom was paid. Fortunately for us, the chase lasted a short while, as we neared a drifting coast guard patrol boat. The pirates fled much to the relief of the crew.
Suddenly I'm in the middle of an adventure, without really asking for one.

DAY 3
A day spent wondering is a day lost to mankind. These are not ramblings. I know they aren't. I spent the whole day indoors trying to measure out what life has in store for me. Safe to say that I will never know. The atmosphere on the boat has been tense since our little incident the night before last. the captain looks a little tired, allowing his age to show through his usually jolly exterior. I am treading that familiar path of disillusionment once again, and it is beginning to depress me.
Just when I thought there was still hope, the ugly head of dissatisfaction comes along and bites me in the arse. Then in the evening mother nature shows up and tosses it into the wind. Gale force winds give birth to thirty foot waves and suddenly I don't care where my life is going anymore as long as I'm alive at the end of the day. Its all relative isn't it? the existential dilemma suddenly becomes a luxury of the fortunate. Am i fortunate? To be in the middle of the ocean in a boat with complete strangers, putting my life in their hands? Waking eating sleeping together like brothers, like fellow men? This was supposed to be the opportunity of a lifetime and I know now that it really is.

DAY 4
There's seawater everywhere. The engine room emits smoke every now and then, sending the engineer and his subordinates gasping for air. The boat lurches suddenly, sending us scrambling for the miserable excuse of a lifeboat that remains tethered to the side of the boat. Frankly, I'm surprised that the waves did not tear it away last night. We seem to have lost a lot of valuable supplies and damaged the radio in the process. But we are alive. And happy to be so. The tropical squall took us apart, taking everything from us but it was the spirit of man that triumphed in the end.
So now here we are, off course, without communication, trapped on a boat with dwindling supplies and not an island in sight. An hour of frustrated searching revealed one of the cabin crew missing., a torn piece of clothing caught in the winch the only reminder that he ever existed. Makes one really think about how valuable life is, under any circumstances. The vastness of the ocean against the sheer nothingness of our existence scares me. Why does everybody talk of the larger picture, when in reality they can't cope with the fact that we are inconsequential puppets of time? The past few days have been a humbling experience for me.
My thoughts are fragmented now. The events over the past few days have shaken me like nothing before. To come from a big city, accustomed to a comfortable life to living in a boat in the middle of the ocean with complete strangers to me has been a huge jump in perspective. Gone are those decadent ideas of a luxurious lifestyle and a safe future. I'm just happy to be alive, and I hope we reach our destination, safely and in good spirits, that is all.

DAY 5
I keep reading my journal over and over again. So much has happened in such a short while. The men on the boat are now closer to one another. We sat together on the deck and played cards to cheer ourselves up. I practically lost every game, but I guess its a small price to pay in exchange for camaraderie. While drifting along the ocean waves, crippled as we were, we had the good fortune of running into a transport ship, whose crew were nice enough to lend us a helping hand. We got our communication equipment fixed along with the damaged boilers in the engine room. We borrowed some rations too, promising to pay their employers at the Port.
Back on course, we are now three days away from Port Louis. The white sands of Mauritius will be a nice change from being tossed around in the Indian Ocean. No restrictions on food, drink or lifestyle. Well, maybe the latter is directly proportional to the amount of money one has, which in my case isn't much really, but still I expect it will be better than a stinking old bunk on a boat.

Orbituary- Mukta Sinha

In loving memory of Mukta Sinha.

Angel blessed on 11^th April 1987 has left with leaving behind her lot of memories and love for her family.

Died at the age of 57 due to a heart attack.

Got married to a business man and have two kids.

She had made some nice animation film in the animation industry.

All my love and heartiest soul to her.

Mukta Sinha- Priya's diary

All of sudden my personality changed where I changed from a middle class family girl to high society girl. I went to pub today, made new friends and enjoyed a lot with them. Had lot of drinks and smoke. We were five of us and now I hard recall their name. After partying hard with them, I went out for dinner and then for long drive. I had lovely night to spend with some new friends. I had lot of fun. I came back home at 4 in the morning. I was so tired that I didn’t changed my clothes and I went back to sleep.

Today while was in a sleep I could hear someone screaming, and then I realised my mother shouting my name from the kitchen. I couldn’t sleep back again. When I got up and saw myself in the mirror I was bit shocked and couldn’t realise if that was me wearing western type of dress, which I haven’t wore ever till now. Then I ran and changed my dress. Then I went out of my room as my mother shouting very loudly. But I wasn’t able to think about it. I was only thinking about the amount of fun I must have had and I was wondering if the same amount of enjoyment I would be able to have.

The whole day has gone, but I am still not able to think what I did yesterday night and where did I go. But I can think I must have had lot fun. Hope whatever I am thinking is not a dream. If it’s a dream then hoping it to become true.

Today I went out and suddenly some girl stopped and asked me, “Are you Priya?” I replied, “Yes”. Then she said “Remember me…. We met in pub day before yesterday in the night.” I was surprised and said “In pub…… I can’t remember anything.” She gave me some confused look and went back. But I stood there and kept of thinking how can it be possible that I can go to pub. I have never been to pub till now and who this girl is and where I have met her. I kept of thinking about that girl on my way while returning back home but couldn’t remember of that night.

I tried to find out who that girl was but couldn’t. Goodnight.

I got from sleep as I was not feeling well. I was going to the kitchen to have a glass of water. While coming from the kitchen, I just took glance of myself to a mirror and felt like to change my clothes and go out. I changed my dress, took a car and went to the same pub again. I waited there for my new friends but I couldn’t meet them. Instead I had two drinks and came back. The night went just fine and I came back home early.