Coconut Cruncher

Punk almost sleeps everyday in the lab, atleast for a few minutes. I slept while working on my sketches. Back pain. Severe neck pain. Alok and I had a cribbing competition. Tapan started looking for laptops. Punk's Yanni music played in the background. I walk out, stretch myself, jump and do cartwheels in a corner. My body's rigid. It's jury time.

So this is my last tension-free Sunday. Next week I will be in complete stress and panic, hurriedly finishing my backlog. As I drop my bag and beloved wacom on my bed, I find space at its edge and sleep in a way that roomies like Radha and Polo will have to tell me not to fall off. Punk comes along my side, looking for my bottle. "You have water?" she asks. My butt and back facing her, I turn my head, wearily. "Fill my bottle. Lock my cupboard. Bathe me, wash my feet. Give me a back and neck massage, and oil my hair. Change my bedsheet. Change my clothes. Switch off my lights, put my phone on charger. Make me a cup of good hot coffee. And yeah - kiss my wacom goodnight and place it carefully in my cupboard." I say. I think at this point of time she would go out of her way to slap me, but her look was blank and lifeless. She turned and left. Thats how tired juries make you.

A man and his wife were awakened at 3:00 am by a loud pounding on the door. The man gets up and goes to the door where a drunken stranger, standing in the pouring rain, is asking for a push. 'Not a chance,' says the husband, 'it is 3:00 in the morning!' He slams the door and returns to bed. 'Who was that?' asked his wife. 'Just some drunk guy asking for a push,' he answers. 'Did you help him?' she asks. 'No, I did not, it is 3:00 in the morning and it is pouring rain out there!' 'Well, you have a short memory,' says his wife. 'Can't you remember about three months ago when we broke down, and those two guys helped us? I think you should help him, and you should be ashamed of yourself!' The man does as he is told, gets dressed, and goes out into the pounding rain. He calls out into the dark, 'Hello, are you still there?' 'Yes,' comes back the answer. 'Do you still need a push?' calls out the husb

In my recent design process information collection, I figured out this info. Shocking.. Banana Peel- 3-4 weeks Orange peels- 6 months Apple Core- 2 months Paper Bag- 1 month Cardboard- 2 months Milk Cartons- 5 years Newspaper- 6 weeks Paper Towel- 2-4 weeks Cotton Glove- 3 months Tinned Steel Can- 50 years Aluminum Can- 200-500 years Disposable Diapers- 550 years Plastic Bags- 20-1000 years Glass- 1-2 million years Cigarette Butts- 10-12 years Leather shoes- 25-40 years Rubber-Boot Sole- 50-80 years Plastic containers- 50-80 years Monofilament Fishing Line- 600 years Foamed Plastic Cups- 50 years Wool Sock- 1-5 years Plywood- 1-3 years Plastic Bottles- 450 years

At the end of the tax year, the tax office sent an inspector to audit the books of a synagogue. While he was checking the books he turned to the rabbi and said, 'I notice you buy a lot of candles. What do you do with the candle drippings?' 'Good question,' noted the rabbi. 'We save them up and send them back to the candle makers, and every now and then they send us a free box of candles.' 'Oh,' replied the auditor, somewhat disappointed that his unusual question had a practical answer. But on he went, in his obnoxious way. 'What about all these bread-wafer purchases? What do you do with the crumbs?' 'Ah, yes,' replied the rabbi, realising that the inspector was trying to trap him with an unanswerable question. 'We collect them and send them back to the manufacturers, and every now and then they send us a free box of bread-wafers.' 'I see,' replied the auditor, thinking hard about how he could fluster the know-it-all rab

So I sat there, thinking of how awesome his work was. I got demotivated. I texted my friends, hoping they would find an answer. Alok and Punk replied something irrelevant. Unexpectedly, considering all the rush she would be in thanks to her brother's wedding preps, Bubbles replied the perfect answer. "Wht shd 'i' b feeling girl?? Thinking of animation even when i hv horribl, least cnfidnt, out of proportions, least strokes. N dspite he bein awsm, u knw he's4graphics.His most wrk is goin2b imagery.Nt animatd.So he puts it up on fb. Simple! R u4graphics?No.wd n wrk, n put it up on fb just to look gd on fb?Nahi. Mag?Pisaat.introspectn is gd. Dnt let it ruin d bgining of diwali,yedo.hv fun wid ur famly.they lau u4whtvr u r.dnt4get me. I lau n2:) "Aww." I thought. That was enough to help me pull myself together. Beatles! I put on their awesome music, the ac, and my stress-relieving stratergy - cleaning the room! I think in somebody else's eyes I might'

It was one of those conversations that could never finish off. Sid was highly entertaining. He defined a good relationship. One which communicates, gives space, and understands. But this couldn't be said in just these 3 words. He had to prove what he meant to me, and I patiently listened. "There's your race, and my race." He started. "Of course you guys think we're perverts, and sure, we ARE! We have the damn testosterone running in our bodies all the time! But sex is not all we think of! If that was the case, we would be in those strip clubs throughout our lives!" Sid justified. He shook his hands vigorously while he spoke, and paced to and fro the pavement in impatience, pointing at himself, pointing at an imaginary girl next to him. If this conversation was muted, it would still be just as entertaining! Watching Sid frustrated gave me inexplicable joy and entertainment. "Look - my girlfriend/wife should be the one I can freely tell anything to. I

As I relished every bite of my icecream, I read the price on its wrapper. The man there had charged me Rs. 20. the MRP showed Rs. 15. I frowned in irritation. He must have thought of me as a stupid girl - whom he could easily cheat and get a few bucks more from. As I nibbled on, I thought of ym revenge. But I was too tired to get up, and argue with him. It would be completely futile, and my icecream was probably worth 20 at that point. But he had cheated me; and I couldn't just sit there, letting injustice win over my guts. I had plans fro his sorry ass. I hurriedly gobbled the the last few bits of my chocobar, and looked around near the counted to see if that man was still there. I stood from my seat, climbing down the bus. Had a full on heated conversation (ahem..*argument) with him on the MRP of my icecream. His reason for cheating me was like any other. "Madam idhar aadhe time electricity ahin milti aur cooling charges bhrane padte hain." he defended rudely. And that,

Dear Sir, I study in your flash class, UG 2nd Year. I have written to inform you that I find your class devastatingly boring. I had decided to bunk everyday and work on it through web tutorials, which I'm doing anyway, but I've changed my mind so I don't have backlog. If you spot me playing farmville on facebook or looking through youtube for tutorials on good animation, please excuse my misbehaviour. It is just a break from the class monotony. I will commence the class assignments today, and try my best to finish them and present them to you. Yours sincerely, Nikhita P. UG IInd Year Communication Design

We always dream of things in life, sometimes the most cliched things. A good job, a good spouse, good kids, and a good home. There's nothing wrong with dreaming. What surprises me is how human it is of us to not to anything to chase our success. Maybe something's wrong with me. Maybe it's just me, but sometimes, we even KNOW what we need to do to achieve it and don't work at it. We expect success to fall from the sky. We pray to god. We hope to be one of those godsend people, who manage to struggle effortlessly and get lucky with everything. But nothing ever comes easy. I dream of these cliched things. A beautiful house designed by me, with walls full of paintings done by my hands, and lampshades and furniture made from my sweat and blood. 2 nice dogs, and 2 nice cats, and a racks full of good books, and good music. I dream to be rich, and build an animal shelter for the stray. Give them good homes, and fight for their rights. Hire an excellent veterinarian and pay them

It had been a rather boring weekend for Bubbles and I. To get rid of the stress and college workload, we went off to pamper ourselves by shopping and visiting the parlour in Fatima Nagar. This was now. A year ago, in second or first semester, it was Pankti with me. We had been in Fatima for similar reasons. On our way back, we had passed a slender fawn Labrador, rolling on the gravel of an inner road, leading to a small society of houses. Clearly it was residential area. This adorable lab had a red collar around her – just like my dog Tutu. Her shiny coat was shimmering away under the strong sun. I couldn‘t resist. I was missing Tutu already! But Punk’s hatred for dogs didn’t make it an easy decision. She shook her head in disapproval as I begged her with a look. She didn’t take much time to buy it. We decided to meet in Big Bazaar ten minutes later. The dog wagged its tail as I approached it. She – (as I noticed) had beautiful kajalled eyes, and they welcomed me to pet her. I squealed

25th May, 2009 Some of you might have heard this story already, but this is for those who were there, who lived through it, and for those who never got to hear it. It was 4 days before our juries. We were sick and tired of working. Suddenly I thought of going out for dinner. I’d had enough of living on processed foods for breakfast and a horrible dinner in the mess. It had brought about lack of appetite in me. So the plan was made. Miti was planning to come too, but she cancelled out last minute, thinking of the workload and the lack of time. I realized that I might not have got to eat out again until next semester. It had been a while. Thankfully Chi and Lipee were sporty enough to think over it and agree later, and Soumya joined in later. For the first time, we left the hostel at 8 PM. As we had our dinner in Pizza hut in Fatima Nagar, we realized that there was nobody to say “Madam – time ho gaya” to us. It was bliss. We didn’t bother about the time. For once, we could eat without w

Yaaaayyyy!!! People I found it!! I'm so glad this wasn't corrupted in my pen drive! Hope you guys enjoy the read, and moreover, the ficticious memories! :) 24/ May/ 09 Chi looked at the computer while transferring her pictures to the pen drive. She had the expression one would have when they saw a picture of their dog after long. However, it was obviously misinterpreted by me. She was actually disgusted with the way Ranka sang. It was a pity that he sat next to her while he listened to his music. She had to listen his besura voice. Often she’d come along complaining. And the hours of stress and prolonged exposure to the computer screen made us go out for walks or to drink some water. One of those days, Chi turned left and slapped Ranka right across the face. He looked right, and asked stupidly – “What?” She raged with the utmost disgust and self-pity. “Your voice sounds like a rat being killed.” “So?” he asked. She didn’t know how else to make him stop. They were the nights I’d

As the bus rattled on the potholes of the city road, I heard a clinging in the pocket of the conductor.. I looked around in the dim yellow light, and felt a vision. A tiny silver coin under some seat of this bus was waiting, waiting to be picked up by a man as it glimmered in the darkness of a corner.

This guy had been on a long flight. The first warning of the approaching problems came when the sign on the airplane flashed on: "Fasten your seat belts." Then, after a while, a calm voice said, "We shall not be serving the beverages at this time as we are expecting a little turbulence. Please be sure your seat belt is fastened." As he looked around the aircraft, it became obvious that many of the passengers were becoming apprehensive... Later, the voice of the announcer said, "We are so sorry that we are unable to serve the meal at this time. The turbulence is still ahead of us." And then the storm broke. The ominous cracks of thunder could be heard even above the roar of the engines. Lightening lit up the darkening skies and within moments that great plane was like a cork tossed around on a celestial ocean. One moment the airplane was lifted on terrific currents of air; the next, it dropped as if it were about to crash. The man confessed that he shared t

A man boards a flight from Delhi to Mumbai and takes his seat. As he settles in, he glances up and sees a gorgeous woman boarding the plane. He soon realizes she's heading straight towards his seat and eventually, lo and behold, she takes the seat right next to his. Eager to strike up a conversation, he asks "Business trip or vacation?" She turns, smiles, and says, "Business. I'm going to the annual Sexologists Convention." He swallows hard. Here is the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen, sitting next to him, and she's a sexologist! Struggling to contain his excitement and maintain his composure, he calmly asks, "What's your business role at this convention?" "Lecturer," she says, "I use my experience to debunk some of the popular myths about sexuality." "Really?" he says, swallowing hard. "What m-m-m-myths are those?" "Well," she explains, "One popular myth is that African men are th

One never knows how life can change as we grow. It's only when we turn into adults, that we feel like being kids again, and when we're kids, we dream to have responsibilities, a family, a house, and a job. A dream job. Seeing them I wish I'd never grown. They had so much left in life. So many to face, so many to see. Responsibilities, expectations, and dreams to conquer. They were happy now. Five beautifully innocent faces, happy and content with their lives. How I wished I spoke better Marathi to communicate with them. They flocked around me to bravely look at my camera's display, as I composed a photograph of a wall and a vessel. So curious, their eyes full of wonder. The youngest boy of six or seven shifted his legs as I smiled at him. "Do you all want to see?" I asked in my pathetic Marathi, lowering my camera to their level. Appreciatively, they gathered around its screen, their faces full of awe. "Can I shoot you?" I asked them in my broken s

Of-course, one takes his time to fit in and be one of the best. I think I'm still at the struggling stage, though probably not struggling enough. And Alok, on the other hand, had his hard work being paid off. Bubbles seemed distracted as always. Writing, thinking, lost in her world of her own pure reality, unlike me, who was permanently in fiction. I walked around class, observing everyone's work, which always seemed far better than my own. I had a very pessimistic approach to everything I did. Sometimes, some people seem to have such perfect lives. Great work, great friends, brill with sports, singing, acting, dancing, you name it..but I wondered if this was just an unreal thought of mine, another way to see that the grass was greener on their side. What they would have to go through to make it that way, I did not see, or understand, but it was probably very hard. Arvind and Akshat seemed so brilliant at everything. I couldn't ever think of comparing myself with them, more

A humble apology by the initiator!

Small things turn big. One thing always changes into another. It's funny how you feel when you can see yourself moving far away from home.. Slowly, the miles grow, and that land is unfamiliar once again. The old man sitting next to me muttered a prayer, or was probably talking to himself, and I watched him in the dim light the bus had to offer. I prayed to god myself, for a safe journey back, for I had forgotten to pray to the idol at home. What had changed, I did not understand. But it affected the way I perceived everything.

Our class was full of different people. Different goals, different talents, and different incentives. The best had always been the best, with their flawless lineart and their realistic rendering.Rashmee and Ishani were some of these prodigies. Monica had the skill of sharpening almost any pencil with the most varied cuts, preventing breakage of its lead or charcoal. And there were those, who never really cared what they were there for. Maintaining their hierarchy in the class.

The Renewable Energy Law 2010 The lie our government hides behind. Everytime Greenpeace tells the government that it has to act on climate change, we are told “but the poor too need a chance to develop! And in any case, our per capita CO2 emissions are lower than the developed world’s, so stop freaking out!” What they conveniently neglect to mention is that a relatively small, wealthy class (1% of our population) already produces twice the sustainable global average CO2 emissions of 2.5 tonnes per capita! Meanwhile, the remaining 823 million poor people in this country produce just one-fifth the amount of CO2 that the richest 1% produce. Now, if these 823 million people started using energy like the top 1% Indians do – as is likely to happen if we really do manage to eradicate poverty – then our per capita emissions would compete with, if not exceed, the highest in the world. Now, if we allow the richest 1% Indians to gobble up the carbon space, the poor will have their right to develo