Voices

"Can I have one earphone?"
"Yeah, sure."
"OYE! What is this?!"
"Afterglow. INXS."
"It is so slow... I thought you were a rap person. You look like a rap person. Orrr.. Hip Hop!"
"Um, no. Not rap. Not hip hop either."
"So you listen to Jagjit Singh then?"

"What do you keep on studying, ego and all? How to prove you're the best?"
"Vaidu, its called ECO."

"Yeah, so there was a question in my set that said - Where should a consumer go if dissatisfied with the District Consumer Forum? So I was gonna write National Forum, but I thought,'Vasu gets State Level certificates before National Level ones, and I wrote State Consumer Forum. Guess what, it was right!"

"Kabbadiwaaleyaaaaah, paper, paper. Raddi, puraane darwaaze, kursiyaan de. Purane bartan, pankhen de. Purane fridge, computer, laptop de.."

[watching a 6 year old and a 9 year old tumbling over each other, fighting.]
"I wish I was a kid again."
"Why? So that you could physically assault someone and get away without charges?"

"Oh, shut up. I watch Roadies as a case study in interpersonal sociological dynamics."

Help, the Orkut desperadoes are invading reality!

Shh. They're creeping up towards you, silently. Swiftly. Those shadows, they just wavered. There are pin pricks on your neck. They're gaining fast, on tip toes, stealthily. And in one fluid motion they're gonna land right below you ear and whisper softly,"Hiiiiii! Can I do fraandsips with you?"

Yes, m'fraands er, friends, the Orkut desperadoes taketh over. Previously thought to be confined to the shady interiors of your friendly neighborhood cyber cafes, they're coming fast. And how.

13th February, 2008
School reception

The teachers are having a Lohri party of sorts in the staff room, and I'm filling in for the receptionist. The things you have to do just because you're the only bakra on offer, since the Science section has practicals and the rest have prep leave. I sit, resigned. There's a sheaf of blank paper sheets in front of me and I'm waiting for inspiration to strike. But honestly, inspiration can do naught but yawn, looking at me grappling with a distraught mother on the phone who's daughter left her report card in school. So I well, yawn too.

Then, this wiry looking guy walks in, looks around, and rubs his tongue over his wiry looking lips. Let's call him RODT.

RODT : Oh hi. I'm from Oxford Univ Press. Can I meet your Princi?
Me: Princi? Um, right. She's um, occupied at the mo' [rather helpful thumping noise from the staff room], so why don't you have a seat?
RODT : Thank you SO much. Are you in this school?
Me: Uh huh.
RODT : Do you study in this school?
Me: Not really. I mean, yes. Yeah. [starts nodding head real fast]
RODT : I'm doing my MBA.
Me: Oh, um, alright. Glad to know that.
RODT : What class are you in?
Me: 11th.
RODT : I'm Rahul.
Me: Oh. Okay.
RODT : What is your name?
Me: [thinking this is going to be a long day] Vasudha.
RODT : Vaasdha?
Me: No. [pointed stare] Vuh-su-dha.
RODT : Okay! Hi, Vasudha!
Me: Um.
RODT : I like your uniform. Its not skirt-shirt, no? Is it some order or something?
Me: I don't think I would know.
RODT : You are in Science stream?
Me: Nah, Commerce. [Yay, stereotype one. Reason number one to bust this guy]
RODT : Commerce? Oh, even I was from Commerce!
Me: Yeah? Great. [Thanks a God, if any, that the guy didn't say same pinch]
RODT : So so. How much did you get in the tenth?
Me: Um. 93%.
RODT : What? 93% in Commerce?
Me: [Must not hit...must not hit...must not hit...] Yes. 92.8% Whatever.
RODT : Oye hoye! [?!] I got 76% in twelfth. And in my final year graduation, I got 66%. My dad says,"Log toh upar jaate hai, you toh only down jaate ho." I don't know, he is always so dissatisfied with me. Kya yaar.
Me: [O.o Starts beaming out frantic SOS signals] Hey, that's okay. Still a first division. *big cheery grin* [fake]
RODT : Yeah. So what are you planning to do after this?
Me: Huh!? After this?
RODT : After 12th yaar!
Me: Oh. That. Um, I don't know. Something in advertising, I guess.
RODT : Oh ho, so you are a creative person then!
Me: Um, maybe?
RODT : Even I am a creative person yaar. I am going to do advertising after my MBA too.
Me: Good Lord, no..
RODT : What, what?
Me: Me? Nothing, really. *big cheery grin again* [fake]
RODT : Very nice. You know, I like creative peoples very much. So, take one more card of mine, okay? This is a special card for creative peoples like me. So keep in touch, okay? *big cheery grin* [not fake]
Me: [Yeah, I'll keep in touch if it involves kicking wiry asses] Um, right.

I take the special card from his outstretched hand. At the back of it, unlike on the card he gave to be given to my Principal, in big bold letters, is a ten digit phone number.

*

Half an hour later, I rub my hands after a job well done. Every kid from the Science section who had their Chemistry practical that day is in possession of a number they can now call in case they need to creatively tackle their boredom with tales of missing socks, or fires in the bathroom. After all, if the Random Orkut Desperado Types start taking over the world, can the evil She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Sorts be far behind? :D

----*****----

Update : 30/03/08

Go play. *grins*

New year, same old

Well begun is half done, innit? *
So how is a first day at tuition supposed to be? Do you go wearing a collared shirt with a tie and a pleated skirt and horn rimmed glasses? I wouldn't know, I never had tuitions before the XIth. Except for this Math tutor my mum once called, who lasted precisely twenty minutes. Ah well.
I have that effect on people.

Anyway, this year [yes, I know its '08, I meant academic year, genius] I finally succumbed to the money minting bag of commercialized shit called coaching centers. The first day, I reached my center early [ group tuitions, har de har!] since I had to ask about the fees and stuff. The teacher in charge of the XIth was busy, so I was shuttled away to the classroom for my batch, where I waited, listening to my iPod, blowing chewing gum bubbles, being my nonchalant best. Alright, just the iPod, but you get the picture. Just then, this guy entered, and stared at me like I was a Vogon. It might have been the clothes [Black tee, striped arm band, tie, ripped jeans, Converse high tops - okay, so at least I got the tie right. I'll learn. Pleated skirt next year. Promise :P] I goggled back, and he went and sat behind me. Next up, a girl came, gaped, rolled her eyes and scampered off to the seat farthest away from where I was. I checked the address I was given nervously, sighed and went back to J-Timberlake telling me what went around came around. Since this didn't do much to raise my [pretty low] spirits, I slumped resignedly in my chair and waited for everyone else to come. The girls smirked, or gave me the eyes, while the guys stood agape.
Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath.

By this time, I was through with it. I looked back, hoping to see someone, anyone I recognized, and what I saw made my jaw drop.

Neatly divided into two blocks, and each acting oblivious to the other's presence, sat everyone. The girls all on one side, and the guys on the other.......the side right behind me. I coloured. Making a social faux pas on Day 1 hadn't been that high on my priority list. One involving 60 pairs of eyes on me less so.

Its been six months since I joined, but even then the sexist demarcation never ceases to amaze me, even though I'm the only person at tuition from a non coed school. Especially since I'm the only person at tuition from a non coed school.

But its the new year, and I guess the psychological desire to initiate a change at the crack of a new anything [Monday diets, anyone? :P] has finally seeped in at my coaching institute too.

Because now, fellow humans, and ye gods of humanity, the time is ripe for change.

And therefore, [emphasize therefore] the boys and girls have..............
.............swapped sides.
Touche.


*Also, alls well that ends well.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the day school reopens after the winter vacation.

Tomorrow is also the day I get back my second Unit exam sheets.

Tomorrow is the day that threatens to make my blog updates a little intermittent.

Tomorrow is the day..... *gulps* I am not really looking forward to.

Misery

I hate this.
No, I loathe it.

Having to get up at 9 AM on a Sunday - Bad.
Seeing you got up because there's a water pipe leakage over your head - Worse.
Freaking out when you see your new, unread books have been given an unwanted complimentary bath - Worst.

[And to top it all, the books that drip when I hold them up aren't even the ones I bought for myself, they're the ones I got as some scholarship thingamajig from my dear, dear school.


Alright, so you can chuck the dear, dear bit, but I did want to read East of Eden and Ana Karenina! :( ]





Noticing that your Business Studies textbook survived the flood?
Conclusive proof that God is a sadist.

Stuff.

[Found this while draft-cleaning, dated November last year.I creep myself out sometimes. :| ]


Sometimes laughing all the time isn't such a good thing. People think that's all what you are. And when you've laughed at everything, every time, you reach a point when you can't do it anymore. You're not permitted to maybe, by some great natural law of things. You just can't laugh things off. You can't do anything. You're the one who laughed so hard, you cried. And then, when you want to cry, you can't. You're this great blob of something that exists. Barely. You feel like an emotionless sadist. You know you're supposed to feel bad because you've inadvertently hurt someone, and yourself, but you can't. The tears don't flow anymore. You hate yourself for being so cold, so uncaring, so hollow, so unfeeling, but you can't do anything about it. You just see it happening in front of you - you, sitting there, just being, your eyes reflecting the vacuum inside, the nothingness around you. You don't feel pain, you don't feel dread, you don't fear anything. You won't do anything reckless, because you're just not there. Because you're okay.
And you see yourself there. Okay.
Time stops. You're listening to a song on your iPod, and you don't know when it ended, what was playing. You're eating. Something. Maybe.
You know it all, yet you don't. But you're okay.
You're calm inside. It might be the lull before the storm. Or the peaceful smile on a dead face. Who knows? You don't. Yet, you do. Because you're okay.

And then, in a moment of blurriness, you let go. You're looking at old things, you're yourself again. You can't help yourself, everything comes tumbling out. You're laughing. And crying.
And then, it subsides.
Blankness.
You close your eyes.
You're okay.
And then, you smile.
You're "okay".

And this...

....is called a post!
Mwahahaha.


Sigh.
*yawns*

One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns

You haven't lived if you haven't ever had a typical Indian send off.A Typical Indian Send off [new grammar rules, let the hyphen RIP!] [TIS] usually consists of the following:

1.Your hosts [think the Mummy, Papa, Dada,Dadi,Chacha,Chachi,Pappu,Babloo],Kanta Bai,Bahadur Bhaiya,Tommy,Twinkle Toes coming to the door to see you off.

2.The neighbours peeping through their door, and asking who'd come over.

3.The kids playing football in the street stopping to make way for your car, and then staring exasperatedly at you while you sniff, and hug, and sniff and hug, and sniff and hug, for some half an hour.

Now, if you're supremely unlucky, you'll also be made to eat dahi [think : Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi], like my mum did before my first Board Exam in the Tenth.[I puked it out! I was so nervous, I threw up! :P]

Anyway, so last week, my mum went to Kochi to visit her one of friends from school.Like a nice, dutiful joint Indian family, all of us trudged to the door.And the nice,dutiful family we are [did I mention that earlier?] we also hugged surreptitiously, and loaded the car, and stood there, waiting for her to leave for the airport.

Now this is a rather aimless post.And it also not about the TIS.Hence, I continue.

Now this is where it got fun.A sadhu came by, walking briskly, when seeing us, he stopped.He was of the typical orange clothes, braided, and messed about hair variety, and had a steel katora for alms.He looked at a watch on his wrist.He seemed to be calculating something, and then he frowned.Suddenly, he looked up."Shiv raksha karega, havaii udaan ki raksha karega, de de beta,ma ki bhalai hogi" I grinned, I mean, there's only so much of havaii udaan ki raksha I can take.The sadhu continued, promising safety at a rupee a bone, oblivious to my cynicism.Seeing he wasn't getting any attention, he gave me one last remorseful look, and went along his way.The car left.I closed the door, just about to latch it.

Suddenly, I heard him.I opened the door."Number ek sau do kahan hai?"
I went out, pointed out the house and saw him amble his way; making his way to the house where he had to perform a puja.So we were the in betweens - a quick buck while he was early for something else.

I stared.He was being greeted with garlands and people huddled to touch his toes, while he had
an expression of utmost serenity etched on his face. In the distance, I could just about hear-
"Aap itni jaldi aa gaye, Babaji?"
I sighed and latched the door shut.


PS: Sacrosancity is constantly evolving, my friends.And who wants to stick to the old anyway? So,
Do you wanna Mata?
Oh a Mata,
Do you wanna Mata?
Love me, love me say!

You know...

You know India is a cricket crazy nation when the electricity goes for 3 hours and returns at exactly 2 : 44 PM


India v/s England : 2:45 IST, ESPN/Star Cricket

Diddle-daddle-doo

This is not another one of them posts where I have nothing to say, I go beating around the bush for five lines, and then click publish.
Four lines is easier :P

So, here's something to feast your eyes on.



Oh, by the way.
Happy Independence Day :)


That isn't me, in case you're wondering. Though I did fly kites.And oooh, I cut two too! :D
My own, though :|

Outcast and rebel, reporting live

Long time, no post.I've been busy :P
Anyway, all that later.

So yesterday I went for this jagran/chauki/puja.Now if you know me, you'd know I'd be a misfit at one of these.Because well, I can't fathom blaring warped hindi film songs [Krazy kiya re, mata ne, krazy kiya.Krazy, krazy,krazy.CRAZY! :| ] exclaiming your love for God, and wasting money on getting loudspeakers and tents and what not.And then after proclaiming your devotion, you reverse your car, mutter some cuss words at the guy behind you, and whizz off?Thanks, but no thanks.

I reached.
"Didn't you wear puja clothes?"
-"Huh?"
"No salwar kameez?" [I was wearing jeans and a tee :P]
-"Err...nahi...mm..."

So temme something.And this is what I inherently hate about it all.Does my spirituality depend on my clothes? Just because I'm wearing jeans, does it mean I cannot believe, that I pray any less, or that I am shallow? Oh, and yes.Does wearing a salwar kammez automatically make me diligently religious and a true follower?Am I incapable of any sin just because I'm wearing something?


So you say my clothes dictate my beliefs.And my actions are trivial.
The blatant hypocrisy is enough reason for me to not go again.And I won't.

Utterly nonsensicial musings of a bored bleuh-ger : Four dementions.

1.I don't feel like writing anything.At all.Its like I just can't say anything, and I have nothing to talk about and when I finally mumble out something, I make a fool of myself by saying some stupid unrelated stuff.Like this friend of mine said,"Hey!" And I go,"Europa's covered with ice, not mice!" Oh wait.DH is out in four days.Probably that.

2.Now there's this girl in my tuition [yeah, I finally succumbed to them! :P].She spells sets as s-t-a-t-a-s-t-i-c-s.And writes A={a,e,i,o,u} or A={x:x is a vowels in the shy alphabets}.And I'm not being stuck up when I notice this, I was just amazed at level of stupidity which is part of tenth-pass.Mr Ashok Ganguly, are you listening? [Of course you aren't.I'm saying that for effect] THIS is what simplifying papers gets.NOT widespread literacy.Widespread moronity.

3.I mean Ashok Ganuly, the CBSE chairman, not Ashok Ganguly, in the Namesake.

4.I have been blogging [well.in and out] for exactly one year and two days.

18th:English debate.Get zany march-past-uniform-turned-uniform-meant-to-showcase-authority from Aditi.Miss classes.

19th:Hindi debate:Rinse,lather,repeat.

20th:Interschool dramatics.Hmm.Get on duty and/or evade classroom and watch people make a fool of themselves.

21st:DEATHLY HALLOWS! :D

22nd:Re-red Shadow Lines.Memorise [try to][maybe] discussion-speech :|

23rd: Discussion.Watch as people watch me make a fool of myself.

Dear Mr. Bal Thackerey,

I wish to express my complete support to the Shiv Sena's protests against Richard uncle snogging Shilpa aunty.I mean, what does uncle think he was doing, kissing her in full public view and all.Tch tch.What will Sharma uncle tell Pappu when he asks what Richard uncle was doing?

"Haw betaa, yeh kya dekh rahe ho? Quick quick, change the channel.Aah, this is better.Now lets watch this educational documentary on Khajuraho...."

Yes Sir, definitely, it is a commendable effort on your part.Imagine, telling your child that Richard uncle was actually *horror of horrors* kissing poor Shilpa aunty? Yeah, committing the same atrocious sin that Pappu's mummy commits everyday when she kisses him good night? Tauba tauba.

And anyway, these things should be banned.Imagine, how can anyone do what they [those inconsequential creatures that they are] think is alright, if someone as great as your almighty highness thinks it to be wrong?!?!

Uncle's "attack on our cultural ethos" toh you protested Sir, but what really amazes me is that you still haven't come out demanding for my arrest yet.Or maybe Prerna hasn't really talked to yet.That would be strange, considering how she's already told everyone within Hindi speaking limits about my despicable escapades. Anyhow,Sir, I would like to voluntarily offer myself for arrest, since I have performed the banal sin of making my d's as curvy and intricate as possible, and I happen to have a really good friend called Disha, so isn't it obvious that I am so completely in lurve with her? I mean, what could be more blatantly obvious?!

I am very sorry for going against our culture and showing such corrupt mentality, and almost nil morality.I hope you will fittingly rebuke me.

Sigh.I am really sorry to have gone against you Sir, but as Prerna tells me, I have to bear the brunt of my horrendous actions.I hope you will take strict action against me [but please, don't burn my life size effigies, because my gigantic size might make it difficult for you to make them life size.]

With deep apologies, and profound respect,

A very shameless blogger.

Utterly nonsensicial musings of a bored bleuh-ger : Three ain't a crowd

So I'm bored and this is gonna be utterly nonsensical.Ah.Here goes nothing.

1.
25th April,2007 A.D.

Carmel Convent v/s Red Roses Public School [no typos there :P]
Set one : 22-25
Set two : 16-25

Gah.So we lost.No surprises there.But this?!




Yes, millord, in addition to being battered, bruised, and shouted upon, I beg the jury to see that my client was also blinded by a super sonic projectile smacking her face and was therefore, incapable to see what she was doing.And hence, she does not need to be shouted at the very next day, and be made to take extra rounds of the sports field.And therefore, is completely at liberty to sue the school for mental agony and physical torture, not to mention child exploitation.


Over ruled??
OVER RULED?!?!
Wha-?!WHY?!?



2.

And this is the discovery of the week.
Know why Tata-Sky sells like hot cakes Converse high-tops?
Instead of having a child lock on channels like most other stuff, they have.....*cough* a Parental Lock!
I dunno if that is an inadvertent error or a sly marketing ploy, but ha.
*mirthless laughter*
They sure know who's boss.


3.

[UNMBB without HP? In your dreams, missy.]

Would you name your kid Narcissa? I mean, what sort of a parent [even a pure blood fanatic] would want their child to be self obsessed? And come to think of it, Narcissa Black isn't even that narcissistic if you see - the woman was more concerned about saving Draco's skin, than thinking about what the repercussions would be if Snape chinese whispered to Voldy.


And unrelated fodder for thought :

JKR: "There is a character who does manage, in desperate circumstances, to do magic quite late in life, but that is very rare..."

On her website, "there IS a significant - even crucial - answer" to the following question: How and why did Dumbledore have James' invisibility cloak?"

4.

Bored, so bored...
Bored bored bored bored
I'm so bored....



Oh c'mmon, you can always Take [P]Lite.......:P

Physucks

It just ain't fair.
The Commerce people get to watch movies 'cause their teachers aren't there.
The Humanities people get to loiter around the whole school 'cause their teachers are there but don't teach.
And what do WE get?

[we includes me,right now.Hopefully, I'll be able to switch to Comm by tomorrow]

Yeah, ladies and gentlemen, we get to slog it out with weirdly accented Chem teachers [an-aye-YAWNZZZ] and double Physics periods.Oh, and an English teacher who's taken it as her life's mission to complete half our book [called.....Hornbill *snorts*] before Summer hols.

Wait.
Did I say Physics?
Phy-sicks?
Tch tch.
Phy-sucks.

Especially with apparently-Oxford-educated US.
One and a quarter hours of Units and Measurements and ta-daaaa:

The Physuckian-braino Theory
-couresty Vasudha W. and Nikita N.


The mass of the brain at a specific time = B , where B is expressed in kg which is a BASE unit.

Time = t , where t is expressed in seconds which is also a BASE unit.

Mass of brain before Physucks = B₁
[NOTE: B₁ >1]

Mass of brain after Physucks = B₂

Duration of Physucks period = t

According to the PBT,
1.B₂ is a constant, equal to zero.
2.For anyone in 11B:
Rate of depletion of brain = [B₂ - B₁]/t
= kg/ s ,which is a DERIVED unit.

IMP:
Rate for 11b-ians is always negative.This shows that the mass of brain decreases with an increase in the time spent in the Physucks class.

3.For apparently-Oxford-educated-US
Rate of action on brain [B₂ - B₁]/t is always positive.
This can be explained due to the fact that mass of brain in US is close to zero at the beginning of the class.Due to the presence of a higher concentration of brain mass in the people sitting in class, namely Nik Nangia, among others, some mass diffuses into US's brain.Therefore, by the end of the class,
B₂ > zero.
Which means,
[B₂ - B₁]/t is more than zero.

*

Oh, and Nangia wanted to add a corollary, in case we get to share the [Ig] Nobel:

For calculating rate of depletion of Vasudha's brain:
B is ≥ zero.
However, for all practical purposes B_vasudha = 0.

.............................

And incidentally....

Final Result for Award of Scholorship
under
National Talent Search Scheme 2006
and
National Talent Promotion Scheme 2006

Regret ! You are not selected for award of scholorship .

Regret! I was not chosen!?!?!
Sigh.
Darn man.The schol"o"rship was all I lived for.
Curse CBSE!
Curse NCERT!

........and she went to back to her humdrum life again.

Rust in Peace.

Swotted.Swore.
Learnt.Forgot.
Laughed.Cried.
Tried to read Why Children Fail.
Trying to finish it before the results come out.Need the excuses.
But then, oh well.Who cares.

THEY'RE OVER!!!

As Sh-aheli said, "If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"
Or was it Alec Smart?
Or.........well.Don't care.Don't need to know no more.Yay.
Life's good.

BOARDS. Pfft.

In the abyss
With darkness closing around me;In a bottomless chasm,
Aching to be set free.

Slayed by the diabolo;
Solitary.Ruinous.Coerced.
I traverse the hell hole,
Compelled by fate; cursed.



Boards.




ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ow.

My butt is aching after sitting on a wooden plank-chair for three and a half hours straight.






More later.

EDIT:

The full story? You bet.

Though this is not an attempt to expose the insane state of affairs at weird-ish NTSE centres in Delhi, I have an even more weird-ish feeling it just might come close.

12 November, 2006 A.D.
2:00 AM.
I trudge back home bleary-eyed after spending two and a half hours trying to play football with a bunch of guys 1 x 100000000000000000^1000000000 better than me.

7:00 AM.
Moi gets up, looks for school uniform, calls up 5 people to ask if they are going for the NTSE.Is suddenly hit with the relevation that I just might be the only one giving it.

9:00 AM.
I reach Govt Boys Senior Secondary School, Minto Road, just as it says on the admit card.

9:15 AM.
The centre has been changed to Govt Something-Something School, Mata-Something Road, just as it says on the admit card.Not.

9:30 AM.
I am in room no. 12 hopefully with people from school, if they decide to turn up.

9:45 AM.
I am sitting on a wooden plank/chair, next to a wispy-ish 8thie from Lady Irwin School.
I am also being shouted at by the Invigilator for sitting at the wrong seat.
I am also being asked to get up, look up my correct seat number and find it.
I sit at the same seat again because it is the correct seat.
I am shouted at again and made to look for the correct seat.Again.
I am shouted at for the third time AND made to look for the correct seat AGAIN (does it matter that I am ALREADY sitting on it??)
My dad is shouted for being in the room.Does it matter that they are parents of five other kids there??
I think that the Invigilator does not like me.

10:00AM.
MAT begins.

11:30 AM.
MAT ends.
I try not to look at the Invigilator as she collects my question paper.

11:35 AM.
SAT begins. By now, my butt is aching (badly) because I am still sitting on the wooden plank/chair. The fans are off. Every 17.5 mins, I can hear the sound of a train passing.The Invigilator is also pissing me off.Because she happens to think I am some snooty kid.Which I am not.

11:59 AM.
The SAT sucks.Majorly. Super majorly.
I have resigned myself to picking out mistakes in the question paper and irritating the Invigilator by pointing out every single one of them to her, then asking in my most innocuous voice whether she can get them clarified.

12:12PM.
Shruti asks the Invigilator if the people who have finished the paper can leave.The Invigilator says no.
A groan resounds through the un-classroom.

12:56 PM.
Contrary to what Disha expresses on the C-Box, I am not in love with my paper.I am just scouring it for any questions I might know.

1:00 PM
Shruti asks the Invigilator again.The Invigilator says no again.A groan resounds through the un-classroom again.

1:10 PM
The NTSE is over.
A horde of people rushes out of room 12.
Freedom! Liberty! Tyranny is dead!

And so ends a chapter in Vasudha's life.

------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------

Grounded.

Okay folks, its official.
I'M GROUNDED.
INDEFINITELY.

Quit rejoicing. You can at least feign some mourning for my *sniff* sake.

Oh, and [belated] happy Diwali.
May the good soon win over the teachers evil.

Cheers! :D