The mysterious entertaining chimney

the chimney

The best and worst part of staying at house no X Ist floor is this. There are girls occupying the second and third floor. Now these girls are reason for entertainment and headache. That's why i say best and worst part. Some of them are good looking but i never figured out where exactly they stay on top floors, always confused between their names and locations. Hesienberg's uncertainty principle of exact position and existence of particles (read good chicks) certainly holds here. All I know is that they appear from top and disappear into it. As if the top floors are black holes and these are particles at the horizon, now there, now not. OK let me add that there are some guys too on topmost floor and also on terrace but they look happy in their own world (or maybe lacking in hard balls like us). Never saw them interacting with the chicks. Now, for once, I empathize with them.

It so happens that there is one narrow vertical chimney type of stuff in the building to which the windows of ground, first, second and thrid floors open. This is the only source of Oxygen for survival for the house which doesn't have a decent ventilation or provision for sunlight. This chimney is the main cluprit. Anyone speaking in any of the mentioned floors can be easily (literally very easily) heard at all other floors if the window is open. If closed, you can still hear if you train your ears like mine. Anyway, as I keep the windows open as my roommate is a big time fart master (about his flatulence skills, in next blog), I never had any problem in listening to chicks above or the morons below.

Ground floor is occupied by some bihari/UP souls named Pandeyji, Misraji, and some other jis which i could figure out from their loud talks. One of them even sings at midnight. I have bought an earplug from Shekar's shop to avoid him. May God bless the inventor of ear plugs. The above floors which open into this chimney is occupied by the girls. These girls talk and talk and.....shall i write more...you can extrapolate it i guess. They talk everything under the sky but never about people under them (yours truly included). Now, we know what they like, what they don't. What songs are their favorite. How dumb or intelligent they are. (no relation with beauty through i guess). We also know the names from their mutual conversations. the only part of puzzle that remains is to indentify for sure as to whom the name belongs. At the rate they talk, it won't take much time.

So, i will update whatever happens in chimney front in next blogs. We are four in room now. Me, my two roomies and the chimney. The chimney is the only entertainment all the way. Otherwise, it's only books, books and more books.

Hats off the the builder who made the chimney. If i meet him i will kick him first for the bad acoustics and wrong design of building and kiss him (on cheeks...ahem...) for making the chimney.

Any of you from jia sarai...if you go for house no. X and if the girls still occupy it, be assured that you will have a good time...at their cost...via the chimeny...

P.S: One can enter other floors with a bit of effort through the chimney...never tried...let me see.

PPS: Removed the house number and placed an X after someone complained to me on email about it

Tiru

Holy day deliberations of UPSC aspirant

Holi - day

OK....it was holi today. The festival of colors. Jia sarai celebrated holi with full josh. Early morning the villagers came out with dhol and started playing the only tune they know. That started the celebrations. Well....this tune starts all the celebrations in jia sarai i guess. I see the same set of guys with the same drums and the same tune. dhank chak chak chak dhank chak chak......I need to get a frequency analyzer to know whether they play any other tune on that. It sounds monotonous. And irritating too if one is sleeping after a night out of studies. I was asleep when they started playing. I wondered if they play the same tune when someone dies here.

Anyway, that's not important. The holi gets as colorful as it can. People chase each other and pour colors. All colorful smiling faces. My roomi Sumit too went out. He came back completely colored. Neeraj, the other roomi went home today. well...here's something funny. His train was at 2 PM in the afternoon and anticipating nuisance if he leaves at 12 or 1 PM, he started at 7 AM itself!!!! Now, that's called color phobia i believe. I could imagine him sitting at the platform at 8 AM waiting for the train to arrive at 2 PM....don't want to be in his shoes.

What did I do? I got up a bit late, as i was up last night to finish off a major portion on theory of machines. As i don't know anyone out here except Sumit, i didn't risk venturing out. I just had some side glances when i went out briefly and got milk. Listened to Guns and Roses and Metallica after a long time. That calmed me down a bit. Sumit was yet to come. Thought of masturbating, then didn't feel like. I am trying to increase my will power. I have promised myself that I won't mastrubate till prelims gets over. As one or the other roomie is always in, that's not a problem. The problem arises when both are out. That's real test. If Gandhiji can control himself, why can't I. One day, I too shall have towering will-power like Gandhiji's. Boy....I am in awe of Gandhiji.

Sumit was supposed to come at around 2 to 3 PM after having lunch at his didi's place. I cooked some rice for me. Some curd was there. Sumit came in at around 2.30. I had my lunch then. Curd rice with pickles.

Yes, i forgot something. The girl from top floor passed on some pakoras and kheer like stuff through the chimney (see previous blog to understand about chimney). Yum...that made our day at last. The onion and aloo pakoras were hot and spicey. After a looooong time i had such nice pakoras. It all happened because of my roomi Sumit. He went up and colored that girl and asked her if she had something to eat. As she didn't have anything rightaway, she prepared i guess. I was dozing off when she yelled, "Chintooooooo" and as sumit (yes, he is chintoo....) was in bathroom, decolorifying himself, i shouted back, "Wo bathroom mein hai (He is in the bathroom)"....and added "naha raha hai (taking bath)" to make sure she doesn't misunderstand. "Koi aur hai to khirkee pe aao (Can someone else come to the window??)", she replied back on which i went to the chimney and promptly saw a polythene hanging in front of our oxygen supply hole. I took it in. It came with a long thread too. I opened the boxes inside. Wow!!! the smell, and the 'bondas'. They were delicious. I told sumit to thank her from my side too. As he has not introduced her to me (he once introduced some girl to my other roomie, Neeraj and afterwards the girl started calling Neeraj and stopped talking to sumit, he learnt his lesson fast!!) , that's the only way i could thank her i guess.

Didn't feel like studying after that. So typed out this blog. Chintooooo is out again with her didi to his bhaiya's place. Neeraj is in train after missing colours and pakodas and a chance to befriend the girl upstairs. I am alone at home. Now.....If you are rightly guessing what's on my mind, let me tell you.....I am still in awe of Ghandhiji.

Tiru

jia sarai days 1

A civil services aspirant arrives at Jia Sarai, Delhi for preparations of civil services exam. This is the qualifying exam in India for getting into coveted administrative services A week by week account of his stay. The exam is one of the most bitterly contested exams over the world. Total candidates applying for the exam exceeds 300000 every year. No of selected candidates less than 300. Jia sarai is a small place near IIT Delhi gate, South Delhi, where 1000s of aspirants prepare for this coveted exam. Here's the first installment.

New Delhi. The capital of India. At last, I am here. 10.00 PM, 2nd of november, 2005. The city is peaceful. It seems to me. Can’t believe there were bomb explosions few days back. The roads are empty. The auto chugs along. The driver hums a 'bhojpuri' song. I guess it reminds him of his home. This being the season of diwali and ‘chhatt’ (a festival of Bihar and UP), the longing becomes painful. The song gets louder; perhaps, unknown to autowallah, his heart vents the pain through the song. Giving courage to him in a land so far from his home. The wind is mild with a tinge of cold, hinting the arrival of winter. Heard there was a snowfall in Shimla. It would take 2 days for the cold air to come down to Delhi. I feel the thermals inside the bag. Yes, it’s there. I am safe. The auto takes a left turn into a small lane. Bold letters on a cement platform proclaim: “Jia Sarai Village”. I can see numerous papers on the boundary walls on both sides of the lane, advertisements from coaching institutes. “IAS made easy”, “Bhawani Singh public administration”, “GS for IAS”, “GATE 2006”, “JEE Physics”, the papers shout at me. Perhaps, they are hiding “Don’t stick bills” underneath. The street lamps wage a constant war with the darkness, winning a battle each night. The steep slope drives the auto into first gear. The rising throttle gives out a cry as if it understands the pain and longing of autowallah’s heart. I finally get down. Paid and thanked him. The ‘thanks’ from me lights up his face. Simple words work magic on hearts. Learnt from a friend. Jia Sarai, my home for next one and half years. I give a call to one of the seniors whom I know. He comes, wishes and hugs me. The hug saying all that he couldn’t express in words. Hands me over the key of my room, shows the location and hurries away. He has cleared the preliminary of civil services exam and is appearing for mains. He can’t afford to waste his time. I understand. I can see something in his eyes. Yes, I have seen it before. Where? Perhaps, in the eyes of a hungry tiger on discovery channel. I know the hunger is real. The eyes are also desperate. Don’t know why. I learnt it later. It’s his last attempt on the exam. He has exhausted all his attempts. The future hangs on it. A candidate is allowed only four attempts. Now I understand the intensity in his eyes. The eyes have the hunger and the urge to kill. The survival depends on it. Inside the room, I search for a mirror. To see if my eyes too have the same killer instinct. Can’t find one. I mean, I can’t find a mirror. My roomi doesn’t have one I suppose. Bugger, how does he shave? Well doesn’t matter. Let him come back from home. He’s supposed to come back in next 2 days. The room was not looked after for past 15 days. I switch on the fan. It’s foggy inside. Wait, it’s not fog. It can’t be. It was clear outside. Omigod, this is dust. Bugger has kept the ventilators open. There is this dust all over the room. Switch off the fuckin fan. 20 minutes fly by. Everything in the room is covered in dust, including me. The tap in the attached bathroom works. Cold water. Flush is ok. The room is a small 8 by 8 feet box with an attached toilet. Two cots occupy the major part. A table with my roomi’s comp occupies remaining. There’s a folded table too. Thrown in by a friend who left after failing three attempts at the exam. The room is full with various cartons of different sizes. Newspapers, bags, wastes and a whole monster world under the cot, questioning my very existence in the room. I see a mattress too, thrown inside in a hurry. Looks like the table friend has dumped this too. The shape of mattress explains the reason of his failure. Ahem, maybe partially. Used and worn out. Looks like he spent the major part of his time on it. Sleeping, wriggling…perhaps, masturbating, who knows? I come down. It’s 11.30 PM. The narrow lanes of Jia Sarai look busy. The tea and cigarette stalls are open. Hundreds of them having tea. Chatting away. Some looks serious. Some tired. And some, with the same killer instinct in their eyes. I can see numbers, am an engineer at heart. Tried guesstimating the percentage. Around 10 percent have it in their eyes. Took a tea. Damn cheap at 3 bucks for a full tea. Surrchai. Lit a cigarette. The combo is pleasure. The smoke curls as it comes out of my mouth. The turbulence reminds me of my internal churning, not yet streamlined. Came back to room. No, hold it. No fan now. Removed the bedspread carefully and put mine on the cot. Converted my winter jacket into pillow. Freshened up and went to sleep. Tomorrow, the day begins. Have to buy a mirror first. Unemployed by choice, lying in an obscure corner of jia sarai in Delhi, listening to music of mosquitoes, trying to sleep, waiting for the dreams. IAS, the dream, I, the dreamer. Tiru