Random Realizations of a Ranting Rat:10 things I have found out

Sometimes I wonder why we live-that’s a pretty darn stupid question right there,eh? We live for a variety of things-for living(um? You ask-yea I have no answer to this-when we are dropped down-we got nothing else to do- unless someone runs you over.Ouch.),for eating-God knows how I love these people,for changing the world,for being good friends to people who need the,for being good friends to complete pr*icks who don’t deserve them,we live for others,we live for us-we live to wear the clothes we would die for,we live to learn and un-learn.Phew.
I have been ranting there,eh?Sorry. But hey,I just couldn’t start of with a list of things I have learnt-so NOT interesting.You must be wondering why I’m making this such a big deal-Its just that I have come to realize that I tend to learn a LOT of things everyday-from my dad,from a five year old-from a bird and even from me(*gasp*oh,I’m such a wise-ass) entirely mundane things,important things,things about the cheetah-things about me just about anything and Voila-I thought this would make good blog foo so I’ve decided to make this a regular thing on my blog-or as often as I learn ten things I’d like to share .

Are you with me till here?I love you,I shit you not.
So yea the list..

• I have found out that I follow an INSANE amount of blogs.REALLY.Not my fault there are so many people who write such good stuff.*sniff*


• That I’m super lazy about passing out awards so lovingly given to me by my blog buddies.I have been horrible I know.Here’s a cookie-will you forgive me?


• The Maoist menace is getting out of hand in WB.I don’t want us to become another Afganistan.And speaking of Afganistan-I’m absolutely in love with the place after reading The Kite runner and I would love to visit it sometime-Though I might bring myself back in a box.eek.


• I’m addicted to coke-the kind you drink,not the kind you snort.


• Farmville is ACTUALLY fun.My eggplants are almost grown.Yaay.Iwill probably have enough coins to expand my farm today!


• My Samsung Star ACTUALLY touches me back.So does my bf’s Corby.Whats with these touchscreen phones?


• How war can cripple a nation and how the common people suffered because of it.’62-72(when India was at war with China and then Pakistan/Bangladesh) my father witnessed it first hand.Rice,wheat,sugar were only available at fair price shops.Because of the shortage of food,farmers were allowed to sell the grains only to the government,at a reduced price.Those who were found trying to sell it in the open market were shot at sight by the police.Shocking.Nerve wracking stuff,eh?Families were issued ration cards which had a quota of food grains allotted to them as per the number of family members.These were obtained weekly and bread coupons were given which,again allotted as per the number of members, and bread could only be bought by showing those.Sometimes I mourn an i-Pod touch,a better graphics card but I failed to realize how these things stop mattering when you have to worry about trying to make it through the day.Today my gen can buy whatever they want over the counter.And people say India has not come a long way.Sure we do have a long way to go,but it isn’t so that we haven’t even started.


• I don’t like Stephen King anymore.He is very talkative.


• I need to start making notes and stop scrounging for information the night before the examination.This is just a realization.I don’t know how far I’d be able to work towards achieving it. :D


• I have LOTS of new books waiting to be read.YAAAAAAY.

Images: The book www.flickr.com/photos/lisadanilko/193713247/

The coke can www.flickr.com/photos/justinnn/2546675800/

and yahoo images.

Oh..and I can't wait for this....

The Indian Dream

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 3; the third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

This is my first participation in a Blog-a-ton and the topic is head-scratching-chin stroking-nonstop-pacing-with-no-luck diffcult.However I came up with a way I could suitably express myself and thus you have three very short stories explaining my dream-the dream of an Indian.

The Return

Arun remembered the day he was orphaned,and how much he had contributed to it.It all came back to him with startling clarity,enveloping him in a blanket of remorse as he choked back a sob.How arrogant he had been,how over the years he had forgotten to genuflect at the altar of love so selflessly given by two souls who asked for nothing but for him to love them back.

The Old Age home was in shambles and there he stood in front of the building where he himself had driven the half dead corpses of his parents-up those very stairs at the very place where they now stood-a ruin of the former people they used to be-but you wouldnot say so you looked at their eyes.His mother in a cotton saree-straining to see him while his father wore a leathery smile which warmed his heart like no other.
Even at this distance,when no words were spoken all anger,bitter words were washed away by the rain which suddenly started pouring in icy blankets.Arun looked up to see the angry clouds,the darkening sky,but instead he focused on three specks that were moving across the horizon.The evening birds were returning home.
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A,B,C,D
Bhola got up early that day and came out of his mud hut.Monsoon was approaching and the straw that formed their roof was decaying.
He sniffed the morning air.It was a little damp,but everything felt special-the sun more brighter,the trees greener.It was after all a special day.
Bhola was a marginal farmer in the Minapore district of WestBengal.He had no sons,but twin daughters who just turned four.
He could hear his wife stirring inside their hut and smiled.His stomach growled with hunger.He and his wife had had nothing to eat last night,the handful of rice that was left-he had insisted be fed to their daughters.The rains were late this year,the unhusked rice in the granary dwindling.He did not have more than a few rupees on him,had no idea when he would be able to replace his daughters’ tattered frock,but he was happy that day.That day,was after all very special.It was the day his daughters would go to school for the first time.

In many parts of India a daughter is still considered to be a burden,especially in rural areas where a daughter means one more mouth to feed but no extra hands on the field.Many are killed in the womb while others who make it into the world are subjected to a life of misery.This is one social evil I wish to see vanished and banished without any traces that it existed.
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This is home

The reflection that stared back at Harish was not flattering.At 28 his hair was thinning,his paunch showing through his shirt.But his less than appealing appearance was made up by his brain-which was its weight in gold.Sometimes he wondered why The Big Guy singled him out to be brainy but never worth a second glance.Couldn’t he be moderately handsome,still brainy and yet an IITian with a dream job in California?
Speaking of California,he turned to look at his ticket which lay on top of his suitcase.He walked towards it,picked it up and cradled it,cooed to it.It was not just a plane ticket,it was his ticket to his golden future-a life of luxury in the Land of Opportunites.
His bags were packed and his mind was made up.He looked at the glossy ticket again,and then tore it up.
“This is home”,he called out to noone in particular.His father was pruning his plants,his mother was probably busy in the kitchen. “This is home”,he called out again,and sauntered out the door to rejoin his job in the city.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.