The wake up call to the rented room
Sounded like the toll of impending doom
While the silence hung in my empty head
Downstairs they sung dirges for the dead
We walked down the road to our rendezvous
The silent town seemed to be mourning too
And the Banyan roots like the banshee's hair
Were just silent mutes waving in despair
While we watched the sun paint the sky red
She talked of how love was underrated
And there I knew it would never be alright
But I was true, when I told her I had lied
She got up, left, never said goodbye
And all she left to remember her by
Were the stains of red on her glass of wine
And drops she'd shed on the drapes; drying
I called her up, ten thousand times
She never picked up, those ringing mimes
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Monday, April 20, 2009
The Nature of Beauty...
Have you ever walked barefoot on the beach
and felt your feet caress the waves
Have you ever visited those you cant reach
where the wind whispers by their graves
Have you ever stared at the scarlet skies
or sailed on the clouds on a stormy night
Have you ever read the emotions in her eyes
and wondered if it were love at first sight
Have you ever played the scarecrow
and in the fields watched the daffodils dance
Have you ever fought with a friend or foe
but then given them a second chance
Have you ever undone what you've done
or wished you could see the unseen
Have you ever truly loved someone
and realized what it truly means
P.S. - This post is dedicated to TS - thanks for all the encouragement!
and felt your feet caress the waves
Have you ever visited those you cant reach
where the wind whispers by their graves
Have you ever stared at the scarlet skies
or sailed on the clouds on a stormy night
Have you ever read the emotions in her eyes
and wondered if it were love at first sight
Have you ever played the scarecrow
and in the fields watched the daffodils dance
Have you ever fought with a friend or foe
but then given them a second chance
Have you ever undone what you've done
or wished you could see the unseen
Have you ever truly loved someone
and realized what it truly means
P.S. - This post is dedicated to TS - thanks for all the encouragement!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Untitled
Red. The hue of war. Of danger. Of ominous forebodings. The traffic sign turned red signaling the traffic to stop. That was her sign too. A sign for her to amble through the arrested traffic asking for alms. To feed herself. And her six siblings. The dying rays of the sun, which had rendered the evening sky bloodshot, leered down upon her face. The red ribbons restraining her matted hair were aglow in the crimson sunlight.
Far ahead, he noticed the signal turn red, but didn't slow down the bus. He was far away. By the bedside of his ailing wife, in the dimly lit, dingy room of his double-roomed house in Daulatpur. He had barely been able to make ends meet since she has been diagnosed with her disease. Sitting at the side of the bed, his six year old Sonu was swinging her polio-stricken legs aimlessly, her crutches lying within an arms reach. It was her birthday today...
It had been his birthday yesterday. And what a night it had been. Sitting back in the artificially cooled interiors of his luxury car, staring absently out of the dark tinted window, he reminisced about the party while waiting for the light to change from red. The who's who of society had been there. And the entire event had gone without a glitch. After that had ended, he'd spent the night in a five star suite. With six children from his NGO. A shiver ran down his spine which had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
The heat during the day had been oppressing. The red hot sun had seemed ablaze. She was glad that it was finally over. Her dress was soiled by the sweat and grime of the day. The day had been productive - she had managed to earn a fistful of coins and was feeling satisfied. With her doll Gulabi clutched under her arm, she wandered from on vehicle to another, her little crooked fingers asking the questions and the movement of their heads answering back. Hungrily, she licked the beads of perspiration on her lip and moved on.
He glanced hungrily at his watch ti check the time till his shift concluded. He couldn't see how the future was going to unfold for his family. Everything seemed dusky. Everything seemed to be slowing down. He still hadn't slowed down the bus. His eyes rested on the idol of the deity on the dashboard. They became transfixed, ensnared by the hypnotic rhythm of the red lights dancing around its periphery. He closed his eyes to pray to God.
God was a farce. So was the NGO. He smirked. He considered it as his penance for the dastardly deeds he had done in business and otherwise. He was jolted out of his reverie by a tap on the tinted window. A young girl was standing outside begging for her livelihood. She was dressed in red rags, quite unlike the seemingly new doll she was holding. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a fifty rupee note and handed it over to her. Penance, he muttered, as he watched her turn away to leave.
It was Allah's atonement, she thought. Fifty rupees! Had anyone ever earned as much in a single day? A rush of emotions throbbed through her painfully-fast-beating heart. She was delirious with happiness. She had never ever even dreamed of seeing this day. She never saw the bus either.
He never saw the little girl. A muted thud and the sudden lurch of the bus shattered his trance. The passengers still seemed oblivious. Then suddenly the enormity of what had just happened struck him with the force of a battering ram. He knew what he had to do. Run. He jumped down from the bus, trying to avert his eyes from the ghastly sight. He stopped suddenly, bent below and picked up the doll - with her roughed cheeks and red lips. Then he jumped across the divider and disappeared into the oncoming traffic.
She had disappeared. One moment she was there and the next instant she wasn't. Had she been an angel? Someone was running away. He opened the door - and there she was, lying lifeless on the now red concrete road. And he suddenly realized - as he picked up her motionless body and carried it to the car - that this was going to be the first of his several acts of self-abasement.
She was declared dead at the hospital.
P.S. - Can someone suggest a title? I couldn't think of one.
P.P.S. - Celebrating an entire year of sporadic blogging. Happy Budday Blog!!
Far ahead, he noticed the signal turn red, but didn't slow down the bus. He was far away. By the bedside of his ailing wife, in the dimly lit, dingy room of his double-roomed house in Daulatpur. He had barely been able to make ends meet since she has been diagnosed with her disease. Sitting at the side of the bed, his six year old Sonu was swinging her polio-stricken legs aimlessly, her crutches lying within an arms reach. It was her birthday today...
It had been his birthday yesterday. And what a night it had been. Sitting back in the artificially cooled interiors of his luxury car, staring absently out of the dark tinted window, he reminisced about the party while waiting for the light to change from red. The who's who of society had been there. And the entire event had gone without a glitch. After that had ended, he'd spent the night in a five star suite. With six children from his NGO. A shiver ran down his spine which had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
The heat during the day had been oppressing. The red hot sun had seemed ablaze. She was glad that it was finally over. Her dress was soiled by the sweat and grime of the day. The day had been productive - she had managed to earn a fistful of coins and was feeling satisfied. With her doll Gulabi clutched under her arm, she wandered from on vehicle to another, her little crooked fingers asking the questions and the movement of their heads answering back. Hungrily, she licked the beads of perspiration on her lip and moved on.
He glanced hungrily at his watch ti check the time till his shift concluded. He couldn't see how the future was going to unfold for his family. Everything seemed dusky. Everything seemed to be slowing down. He still hadn't slowed down the bus. His eyes rested on the idol of the deity on the dashboard. They became transfixed, ensnared by the hypnotic rhythm of the red lights dancing around its periphery. He closed his eyes to pray to God.
God was a farce. So was the NGO. He smirked. He considered it as his penance for the dastardly deeds he had done in business and otherwise. He was jolted out of his reverie by a tap on the tinted window. A young girl was standing outside begging for her livelihood. She was dressed in red rags, quite unlike the seemingly new doll she was holding. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a fifty rupee note and handed it over to her. Penance, he muttered, as he watched her turn away to leave.
It was Allah's atonement, she thought. Fifty rupees! Had anyone ever earned as much in a single day? A rush of emotions throbbed through her painfully-fast-beating heart. She was delirious with happiness. She had never ever even dreamed of seeing this day. She never saw the bus either.
He never saw the little girl. A muted thud and the sudden lurch of the bus shattered his trance. The passengers still seemed oblivious. Then suddenly the enormity of what had just happened struck him with the force of a battering ram. He knew what he had to do. Run. He jumped down from the bus, trying to avert his eyes from the ghastly sight. He stopped suddenly, bent below and picked up the doll - with her roughed cheeks and red lips. Then he jumped across the divider and disappeared into the oncoming traffic.
She had disappeared. One moment she was there and the next instant she wasn't. Had she been an angel? Someone was running away. He opened the door - and there she was, lying lifeless on the now red concrete road. And he suddenly realized - as he picked up her motionless body and carried it to the car - that this was going to be the first of his several acts of self-abasement.
She was declared dead at the hospital.
P.S. - Can someone suggest a title? I couldn't think of one.
P.P.S. - Celebrating an entire year of sporadic blogging. Happy Budday Blog!!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Obsessions of an IITian
Being a student at one of India’s leading ‘excellence in engineering education’ institutions, I don’t want to sound obnoxious. However the list enlisted below is loosely based on my own personal experiences with the residents here, and is more or less pretty accurate.
1. Girls –
There is no questioning their dominance at the top of this list. And no, I am not talking about the ‘girls’ at IIT. Rather, this class includes all the femme fatales that we IITians manage to zero down upon after hours and hours and hours of browsing through profiles on Orkut, Facebook, MySpace and the likes. And then arises the dilemma of how to approach them. A few try the direct ‘fraanship’ approach; some seek the more subtle wait-and-watch approach while the rest (a majority) stoop down to the level of sending ‘Will you become my sister’ messages just to add them to their friend’s list. This list also includes the girls from the local non-engineering arts colleges.
2. Google –
This, we believe, is the greatest tool ever created by mankind (err…I mean created by the deity – Larry Sergey). The Google ranks even above The Fire and The Wheel on the list of ‘Greatest Inventions ever invented’. For more information and statistics on the usage of the aforementioned apparatus by IITians, please visit http://www.google.com
3. Wikipedia –
And this, dear friends, is the big bad brother-in-law of Google. (Jimmy Wales, the creator of Wikipedia, is actually Larry’s wife’s mother’s sister’s husband’s father’s cousin’s brother’s nephew’s daughter’s uncle’s grandmother’s niece’s aunt’s son!). Projects, assignments, reviews, tests, quizzes, final examinations, presentations…you name it and we use it. Not surprisingly, our bedtime prayers include a verse – “We thank thee Lord for Wiki”.
4. The Opposite Sex –
Not to be confused with Class 1. This refers to the damsels who flock to our campus during our Cultural or Technical Fests. But beware, as even these not-so-well-endowed-in-the-looks-category ladies have the power to make us drool all over and follow them around with our tongues hanging out, hoping that they’ll answer in the affirmative if we ask them out for the Salsa workshop to be held the next day.
5. Jobs in the Financial Sector –
This is where all the money and moolah is. (Or rather was!). Sadly though, the current meltdown of the global financial markets seems to have limited our options. But no fear, coz Infosys and TCS are always here!!
6. American Universities –
The prospect of higher education (in spite of studying at one of the epitomes of higher education in India) draws us to those far-off fairytale lands like vultures to a dead carcass. And the opportunity to acquire greater knowledge and maybe, to go along, a couple of firangi chicks as well is a major plus point.
7. Non-males –
Please don’t get me wrong. By non-males we do not refer to the third sex but rather to the inmates of the inappropriately named ‘Girls Hostel’ at the IITs. Nevertheless they are a rare species to be found only amongst the fauna and flora of the beautiful campuses. Most of the non-males (apparently) already have ‘boyfriends’ outside the campus, while others manage to locate the love of the lives on the campus itself during their 4 year stints. One must acknowledge the fact that they do bring variety and diversity to the otherwise dull and dreary life here.
8. Social Networking Sites –
If the number of ‘Kamlesh invites you to join My-Chaddi-Buddy.com’ invitations were anything to go by, it would seem that a new social networking site comes up every other day. And we end up accepting most of these invites. Why? Refer to the 1st obsession.
9. LAN – Acronym for Local Area Network.
Move over HBO, Channel V and Star News. This is the one stop shop for all our entertainment needs. Games, movies, sitcoms, pirated software, e-books, still more games….The perfect paradise for all IIT intellectuals (read geeks).
10. _____________ -
T. Patrick, C. Lane, J. Haze, Paris Hilton, Jenna Jameson, Pamela Anderson, My Friend’s Hot Son…..I think you must have got the gist of what I am trying to get at (especially if you are an IITian).
P.S. – This post is dedicated to Ms. Bon Travail, Layla and Abhinav T. for encouraging me to keep writing. And also to TS who is looking for an IITian!!
1. Girls –
There is no questioning their dominance at the top of this list. And no, I am not talking about the ‘girls’ at IIT. Rather, this class includes all the femme fatales that we IITians manage to zero down upon after hours and hours and hours of browsing through profiles on Orkut, Facebook, MySpace and the likes. And then arises the dilemma of how to approach them. A few try the direct ‘fraanship’ approach; some seek the more subtle wait-and-watch approach while the rest (a majority) stoop down to the level of sending ‘Will you become my sister’ messages just to add them to their friend’s list. This list also includes the girls from the local non-engineering arts colleges.
2. Google –
This, we believe, is the greatest tool ever created by mankind (err…I mean created by the deity – Larry Sergey). The Google ranks even above The Fire and The Wheel on the list of ‘Greatest Inventions ever invented’. For more information and statistics on the usage of the aforementioned apparatus by IITians, please visit http://www.google.com
3. Wikipedia –
And this, dear friends, is the big bad brother-in-law of Google. (Jimmy Wales, the creator of Wikipedia, is actually Larry’s wife’s mother’s sister’s husband’s father’s cousin’s brother’s nephew’s daughter’s uncle’s grandmother’s niece’s aunt’s son!). Projects, assignments, reviews, tests, quizzes, final examinations, presentations…you name it and we use it. Not surprisingly, our bedtime prayers include a verse – “We thank thee Lord for Wiki”.
4. The Opposite Sex –
Not to be confused with Class 1. This refers to the damsels who flock to our campus during our Cultural or Technical Fests. But beware, as even these not-so-well-endowed-in-the-looks-category ladies have the power to make us drool all over and follow them around with our tongues hanging out, hoping that they’ll answer in the affirmative if we ask them out for the Salsa workshop to be held the next day.
5. Jobs in the Financial Sector –
This is where all the money and moolah is. (Or rather was!). Sadly though, the current meltdown of the global financial markets seems to have limited our options. But no fear, coz Infosys and TCS are always here!!
6. American Universities –
The prospect of higher education (in spite of studying at one of the epitomes of higher education in India) draws us to those far-off fairytale lands like vultures to a dead carcass. And the opportunity to acquire greater knowledge and maybe, to go along, a couple of firangi chicks as well is a major plus point.
7. Non-males –
Please don’t get me wrong. By non-males we do not refer to the third sex but rather to the inmates of the inappropriately named ‘Girls Hostel’ at the IITs. Nevertheless they are a rare species to be found only amongst the fauna and flora of the beautiful campuses. Most of the non-males (apparently) already have ‘boyfriends’ outside the campus, while others manage to locate the love of the lives on the campus itself during their 4 year stints. One must acknowledge the fact that they do bring variety and diversity to the otherwise dull and dreary life here.
8. Social Networking Sites –
If the number of ‘Kamlesh invites you to join My-Chaddi-Buddy.com’ invitations were anything to go by, it would seem that a new social networking site comes up every other day. And we end up accepting most of these invites. Why? Refer to the 1st obsession.
9. LAN – Acronym for Local Area Network.
Move over HBO, Channel V and Star News. This is the one stop shop for all our entertainment needs. Games, movies, sitcoms, pirated software, e-books, still more games….The perfect paradise for all IIT intellectuals (read geeks).
10. _____________ -
T. Patrick, C. Lane, J. Haze, Paris Hilton, Jenna Jameson, Pamela Anderson, My Friend’s Hot Son…..I think you must have got the gist of what I am trying to get at (especially if you are an IITian).
P.S. – This post is dedicated to Ms. Bon Travail, Layla and Abhinav T. for encouraging me to keep writing. And also to TS who is looking for an IITian!!
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Bon Voyage?
Chennai ( or erstwhile Madras ) is a bustling metropolis of South India. And like all the overwhelming cities ( in terms of size as well as in the sheer size of their population ) in the country, it has its own share of infrastructural problems. Take the public transport system for example. The rickety buses seem as though they belong to the pre-independence era. The buses are literally lop-sided, tilted at an acute angle to one side, with people hanging out of the doors or clutching onto the windows for their dear lives. And the buses somehow manage to break down every time the heavens start pouring (at their misery) which, thankfully, doesn't happen often in Chennai.
The city also has a local train service. But the service is very erratic and the trains seem to follow the CMST (Chennai Metro Standard Time)which is 30 minutes behind the IST (Indian Standard Time). So, if one wishes to go to Spencer's Plaza, he or she is completely at the mercy of the fleecing auto-wallas of Chennai. For the less informed, Spencer's Plaza is a mall and is one of the two-of-its-kind in the city. In order to relieve ourselves of the stresses that stem from studying at a 'practically' all boys college, the male students often go on a pilgrimage to Spencers to pay tributes to the Goddess of love and beauty - Venus.
So one fine,bright,sunny afternoon, I found myself standing at the college main gate looking for an auto to take me to Spencers. Armed with a not-so-good Tamil vocabulary (which basically consists of just 4 words - "aama"-yes , "illai"-no , "yevelo" - how much and "nai"-dog), I approached an auto-walla standing there.
"Spencers ?" ,I asked enquiringly.
He nodded.
"Yevelo ?"
Pat came the reply, "150".
Now since the correct rate is Rs.60 , I decided to put my foot down and said with whatever little authority I had, "Illai, 60 only".
Judging by the look on his face, I was sure that he wouldn't have agreed to go for Rs.60 even if I had agreed to marry his ugly daughter (which I am sure she was, if the look on her father's face was anything to go by). I dearly wanted to utter 'nai' but somehow refrained myself from entering into a verbal confrontation in a language in which I wasn't very proficient. I flagged down another auto and repeated the same set of questions upon which he agreed to take me there for Rs.60. Hearing the correct rate, I instinctively hopped in. But suddenly I realized that something was amiss and then in a flash of brilliant intuition it dawned upon me - how had he agreed to go for the correct rate? WITHOUT ARGUING? I was soon about to find out.
As we approached a traffic signal, the light suddenly turned red. However the auto-walla shot past as though he was driving an all together different planet where red symbolized GO-AT-FULL-THROTTLE. Speed breakers seem to have been made for lesser mortals. Mr.F1-Auto-Driver seemed completely oblivious of any such obstructions, traveling over them at 60 miles an hour which resulted in me banging my head against the roof innumerable times. And what I had been dreading soon came to pass by when he turned on the radio - at full blast. Mysteriously, some red-blue-green lights also seemed to come alive within the confines of the auto, giving it the effect of a mobile discotheque. My only assurance was that it wasn't as claustrophobic inside the auto and also that the decibel level of the vehicles outside sometimes exceeded that of the music. When a song finally ended, the RJ would come on and announce in a slick voice, "You are listening to Radio ABC 81.1 - Whatte Fun!". Fun my ass!!
Finally the auto-walla did stop at a traffic signal, an action effected by the presence of a policeman. Looking outside, the driver saw an auto-rickshaw whose driver was glaring at him menacingly. A heated exchange of words seemed to take place between the two of them in the universal wordless language of the auto-wallas. Tyres screeched. Rubber burnt. And as soon as the light turned green, both the autos were off...at full speed, in the quest of the Imaginary-F1-Auto-GrandPrix-Championship. By Gods grace, a bus stopped to let its passengers get down, which forced the other auto-rickshaw to slow down. My auto managed to squeeze in between the bus and the road divider, thereby winning the race and the non-existent trophy.
At long last, the auto reached its destination. When the auto came to a final halt, I disembarked hastily and thanked the auto-walla and God for my safe journey. After paying my dues, I rushed inside. And ogled away to glory!!
P.S- This one is dedicated to Ms. Bon-Travail. Hope her 'travels' are as uneventful as mine. ( Bon travail is French for good work and not happy journey!! )
The city also has a local train service. But the service is very erratic and the trains seem to follow the CMST (Chennai Metro Standard Time)which is 30 minutes behind the IST (Indian Standard Time). So, if one wishes to go to Spencer's Plaza, he or she is completely at the mercy of the fleecing auto-wallas of Chennai. For the less informed, Spencer's Plaza is a mall and is one of the two-of-its-kind in the city. In order to relieve ourselves of the stresses that stem from studying at a 'practically' all boys college, the male students often go on a pilgrimage to Spencers to pay tributes to the Goddess of love and beauty - Venus.
So one fine,bright,sunny afternoon, I found myself standing at the college main gate looking for an auto to take me to Spencers. Armed with a not-so-good Tamil vocabulary (which basically consists of just 4 words - "aama"-yes , "illai"-no , "yevelo" - how much and "nai"-dog), I approached an auto-walla standing there.
"Spencers ?" ,I asked enquiringly.
He nodded.
"Yevelo ?"
Pat came the reply, "150".
Now since the correct rate is Rs.60 , I decided to put my foot down and said with whatever little authority I had, "Illai, 60 only".
Judging by the look on his face, I was sure that he wouldn't have agreed to go for Rs.60 even if I had agreed to marry his ugly daughter (which I am sure she was, if the look on her father's face was anything to go by). I dearly wanted to utter 'nai' but somehow refrained myself from entering into a verbal confrontation in a language in which I wasn't very proficient. I flagged down another auto and repeated the same set of questions upon which he agreed to take me there for Rs.60. Hearing the correct rate, I instinctively hopped in. But suddenly I realized that something was amiss and then in a flash of brilliant intuition it dawned upon me - how had he agreed to go for the correct rate? WITHOUT ARGUING? I was soon about to find out.
As we approached a traffic signal, the light suddenly turned red. However the auto-walla shot past as though he was driving an all together different planet where red symbolized GO-AT-FULL-THROTTLE. Speed breakers seem to have been made for lesser mortals. Mr.F1-Auto-Driver seemed completely oblivious of any such obstructions, traveling over them at 60 miles an hour which resulted in me banging my head against the roof innumerable times. And what I had been dreading soon came to pass by when he turned on the radio - at full blast. Mysteriously, some red-blue-green lights also seemed to come alive within the confines of the auto, giving it the effect of a mobile discotheque. My only assurance was that it wasn't as claustrophobic inside the auto and also that the decibel level of the vehicles outside sometimes exceeded that of the music. When a song finally ended, the RJ would come on and announce in a slick voice, "You are listening to Radio ABC 81.1 - Whatte Fun!". Fun my ass!!
Finally the auto-walla did stop at a traffic signal, an action effected by the presence of a policeman. Looking outside, the driver saw an auto-rickshaw whose driver was glaring at him menacingly. A heated exchange of words seemed to take place between the two of them in the universal wordless language of the auto-wallas. Tyres screeched. Rubber burnt. And as soon as the light turned green, both the autos were off...at full speed, in the quest of the Imaginary-F1-Auto-GrandPrix-Championship. By Gods grace, a bus stopped to let its passengers get down, which forced the other auto-rickshaw to slow down. My auto managed to squeeze in between the bus and the road divider, thereby winning the race and the non-existent trophy.
At long last, the auto reached its destination. When the auto came to a final halt, I disembarked hastily and thanked the auto-walla and God for my safe journey. After paying my dues, I rushed inside. And ogled away to glory!!
P.S- This one is dedicated to Ms. Bon-Travail. Hope her 'travels' are as uneventful as mine. ( Bon travail is French for good work and not happy journey!! )
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
An Introduction
Well...here goes...my first post! And this one is dedicated to none other than.....My Blog!!
Let me begin by explaining, to those who are eventually going to read this, the logic behind the title of my blog and my blog address. In my college, as an undergraduate, we are supposed to complete 12 credits worth of Humanities courses in order to be awarded an engineering degree. Alas, we don't get to choose a course of our choice, but are alloted one on the basis of a 'priority number'. And so after getting a priority number of 460+ ( The highest that can be possibly achieved is 500 ), I ended up getting a course entitled “Humanities in a Technological Age” ( shady huh? ). The only thing that I still remember about this course is a poem -'Skyscraper' by Carl Sandburg. A particular line in that poem still lingers at the tip of my tongue...
The title of my blog is a dedication to the beauty of these lines.
As for the blog address, I had wanted it to be “roll 'n' rock.blogspot.com“ But since space as a character is not allowed in the blog address and so aren't _ , ' , “ , &,~,......I had to be contented with “roll-et-rock”. By the way, ( for those of you who don't know French ) 'et' is the French counterpart of 'and'. And neither am I a big fan of Elvis Presley ( rock 'n' roll anyone? ). What the blog address actually 'stands for' is -
P.S – This Post is also dedicated to all the Smokers and Dopers by A-viral the man! ( à la Zeest!! )
P.P.S – Nor am I a big fan of dope!!
Let me begin by explaining, to those who are eventually going to read this, the logic behind the title of my blog and my blog address. In my college, as an undergraduate, we are supposed to complete 12 credits worth of Humanities courses in order to be awarded an engineering degree. Alas, we don't get to choose a course of our choice, but are alloted one on the basis of a 'priority number'. And so after getting a priority number of 460+ ( The highest that can be possibly achieved is 500 ), I ended up getting a course entitled “Humanities in a Technological Age” ( shady huh? ). The only thing that I still remember about this course is a poem -'Skyscraper' by Carl Sandburg. A particular line in that poem still lingers at the tip of my tongue...
“Men who sunk the pilings and mixed the mortar are laid in graves, where the wind whistles a wild song without words”
The title of my blog is a dedication to the beauty of these lines.
As for the blog address, I had wanted it to be “roll 'n' rock.blogspot.com“ But since space as a character is not allowed in the blog address and so aren't _ , ' , “ , &,~,......I had to be contented with “roll-et-rock”. By the way, ( for those of you who don't know French ) 'et' is the French counterpart of 'and'. And neither am I a big fan of Elvis Presley ( rock 'n' roll anyone? ). What the blog address actually 'stands for' is -
ROLL UP THE DOPE
AND ROCK ON!!
P.S – This Post is also dedicated to all the Smokers and Dopers by A-viral the man! ( à la Zeest!! )
P.P.S – Nor am I a big fan of dope!!
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