Coconut Cruncher

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.