Sunday, February 28, 2010

202.A post - By Esther Evelyn

Hey Ste, Thanks for this opportunity given to me to write and share some of the wonderful and funny things about you. I know we never saw each other in person, but we definitely are good friends, agree? There are some of the nicest things about you I will always remember and am sure everyone will smile reading this especially you. 

(Here are some of the conversations Ste and I had which will always make me smile)

How many of you know Ste’s elder sister? I know her.
Ste – Hi
Me – Hey
Ste – How’s you?
Me – I’m okay how’s you?
Ste – Ok.
Me – Cool! (Had no other way to react to his okay)
Ste – Cool which level?
Me – (what? Oh mafia wars?) 42
Ste – WTG (Ste’s new term WTG which means what-the-gosh?! Kidding it was a typo error)
Me – yup
Ste – God bless you
Me – thank you, so sup?
Ste – Nothing much. Life sucks!
Me – as always? No class?
Ste - chill on what you’re yelling for lay back that’s been done before and if you’re only let it bhi
Be*
Me – WHAT?
Ste - waking up I see that everything’s ok first time in my life and now it feels so great slowing down I look around and am so amazed little things that makes life great I wouldn’t change a thing about it this is the best feeling!
Me - seems like you knocked your head? If no then you need a knock for sure... ;)
Ste – why knock?
Me – what’s all of that then?
Ste – my song
Me- your writings?
Ste – no my elder sister’s writings!
Me – oh wow is she a blogger?
Ste – Nope she’s a pop singer!
Me – name?
Ste – Avril :-)



* * *

The dancing story
Ste – There?
Me – very much
Ste – play some songs
Me – already playing
Ste – Whoa let’s dance
Me – ha-ha do you know how to dance Ste?
Ste – I do, stupid
Me – Idiot
Ste – stupid, idiot ++
Me - :-|




* * *




Ste the engineer
Ste - We know that 2/10=0.2 is it right?
Me - Math and me? Yeah but that’s right.
Ste - Prove that 2/10=2 Can you?
Me - nope I can't. I swear I suck at math :-|
Ste - Normal college students insist Question is "OUT of Syllabus".
But
Engineering Students replied:
2=two,
10=ten.
Therefore Two/Ten = Two/Ten = wo/en.
w=23,
o=15,
e=5,
n=14.
Therefore
w+o=23+15=38
&
e+n=5+14=19
Therefore wo/en=38/19=2.
Hence Proved
Me – brilliant
Ste - Engg make it possible re
Me - it’s not about Enggs! It’s about BRAINS for sure because how do you know whoever proved this is an engg?
Ste - :-|




* * *





Ste’s future has been predicted by facebook
Ste – Facebook predicted my future in 2010
Me – What was the prediction about?
Ste - I will go to prison and get raped
Me – LMAO Curse facebook because it thinks you’re a girl.
Ste - :-|






* * *
I know these were a few funny conversations. But I know one thing ste will always remain my best buddy ever, I also know for sure that he will always be my friend because ste is not dipped in ego he always makes sure to ping me and ask me how I am and also makes sure to ask me what my status was all about if I ever happen to update a sad one. Ste has always been there for me whenever needed especially in helping me get energy packs for mafia wars L.O.L. And I also can never forget ste’s reaction Jhao Ghar ka kaam karo I won’t encourage female mafias whenever I asked for energy packs to play mafia wars.


Congrats ste for completing 200 blog posts and for being one of the nicest bloggers. And don’t stop smiling.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

201.A Writer Named Solli- By Leo

201.A Writer Named Solli- By Leo
This is a story happening in modern times, when engineers, doctors, journalists, politicians, actors and even beauticians compete for being the best in their chosen area of expertise. In these times, a mischievous talkative boy dreaming of being an engineer decided he wanted to have an alternate profile. Yeah, this boy decided he wanted to chase not one dream but two. Solli was his name, and shying away from the others trying to steal his spotlight, he went and started writing on his own, where no one could come trouble him and disturb his concentration. People though saw him always, and they began calling him... yeah.. thats right.. they called him "The Solitary Writer". Soon, he got tired of being without a soul to talk with, and started mingling with the crowd. Yet, his new name stuck to him. He wasn't satisfied with just meeting new people, he wanted to befriend them, make them a unit that gelled together in the art he liked most, Writing.

Two people decided to collaborate in that venture. Yem Bee Yae fame The Guru Balan and Brain Farts fame The Ninja Alaena joined him and together they made a space on blogsville for a select group of friends they called The Writers Lounge. Members were less in the starting months, but they never gave up hope.. for every venture needs a lot of time to reach its peak.. so they waited patiently, working on it.. accepting members whenever they could. It was on a cold day in November that the Solitary one hailed me, The Amateur Poet Leo, and asked me to be part of that elite group of writers. I considered it, and accepted without much delay. When the rain gods were focusing their fury on the lounge, I entered, holding just a handful of papers with my little poems and a carry bag with change, because I intended to stay there for a long time. It was like I was back home, like it was where I was meant to be. A step into this new world, and I had many friends at my side, helping me settle down in this new world. Rocky Road fame Raash, The Teacher Prattu, The Night Goddess Nyx, The Dada Tan, The Guru and The Ninja all were helping me a lot in getting accustomed to the environment. Soon, I was part of that family. Solli even let me become an elite member, making me admin and taking suggestions from this little prodigee poet for a big poetic celebration.

I became very friendly with Solli, and as time raced on, I got to know him better. My sister The Pink Orchid Callie and I were quite close to him and we found him to be friendly helpful and a joyous humorous chap. Of course, we both agreed that his temper was quite the problematic part of his profile and in due course we had our fights. Sometimes Solli would step up himself and resolve it, sometimes he would be arrogant and the fights would last long. Even sometimes, an argument would break out between The Guru and Solli... but yeah, through all these moments, The Lounge family stuck through, and Solli's writing blossomed. Members left for many reasons, but new friends came and continued to enchant the place. Solli many times considered leaving his own world also, and he left the lounge too. But no other place seemed like home to him. He returned to watch the seed of writing he had once planted with The Guru and The Ninja blossom into a tree. And also, he continued honing his skills as a writer. Today, as The Amateur Poet and the rest of us enjoy the beauty, he is all set to plant the 200th flower in his garden here. Other writers like me shall flock to the garden to plant just a single seed in this beautiful place, and he shall be away for some time tending to flowers in his real garden, and when he returns, he shall see the garden in full bloom.

The Amateur Poet(that's me by the way), bows to this fellow's writing skills and hopes that he shall be around on blogsville to see a 1000th flower planted in this writer's garden here. To Solli, my friend... many many wishes...

Friday, February 19, 2010

200.

200.
Never thought that I would reach this landmark figure.But today I am here with number 200. Thanks a lot everyone for this .

I am running out of time actually.Forgive me if I haven't mentioned any of your's name.Thanks a lot to all the guest posters and I am sure many more would be up in few weeks time.Office is keeping me busy ..Trust me I will be back as soon as possible.Time factor is troubling me.

Thanks a lot to the following people.

Asbah for being my sweetheart and my mentor,Sandeep for being my elder brother and my guru,Vinay for being one of my best buddy on blogworld,Parul for being my bestest friend ,Arun for being a great friend,Arjun for being my partner in crime,Neha Silam for being my Boss,Sreya for being my buddy,Siddy for being a nutty friend,Amity me for the mom I see in her, Kasabian girl for being my only Captain,Amrita for being my best buddy,Alisha for being my nutty friend,Aarthi for being a wonderful friend through out this span of 3 years of friendship, Ajay for being a great friend and a roomie to me,Vidhu for being a funny friend and a sister,ESTHY for being my best friend, Sowmya for being a wonderful Akka,Pankhuri for being my cute motti aankh wali pyari sali,Neha Joei de vivre for being my sweet friend,Priyanka for her gestures,Chirag for his poems ,Hashan for his wonderful write ups,Heena for her rants,Anup for being my only friend in MSN,Americanising Desi for her stories ,Arv for his 55 ers, Priya Joyce for being my cute little sister,Lilian Terra for being my little daughter,Nushu for her kindness,Sona Di for considering me as her little brother,Roshu for being a cute little friend of mine,Tan for inspiring me,Madhu mantra for her poems,More Orangee for his friendship,Gauri for her smiles and yes CHRONICWRITER for constantly making me smile throughout.

I am in a hurry right now and I am sure I haven't missed any one.If I have then please let me know

Sunday, February 14, 2010

199.The Ragpicker - By Sandeep Balan

I dedicate this short story to Stephen Anthony, my brother from the blogworld and The Solitary Writer. This short story is for the 200th post on your blog which you had honoured me with, Ste. Hope you like my attempt at fiction :-)
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Mornings without my toast sandwich at Durga's was unimaginable. Like a daily ritual, lured by the taste of Babubhai's sandwiches, which has a tendency to linger on your tongue well after its consumed, I would end up daily at this roadside joint for my bite. Today is no different. Here I am, biting into my toast sandwich. Savouring the melting butter and crunchy bread in my mouth.I look around me. Everyone is in a tearing hurry. Motorbikes zig zag their way through the traffic while irritated drivers shout at the ones in front sticking their heads out of their vehicles, egging them to move. The chirping of birds gets lost in the constant honks of motor vehicles. Its mayhem everywhere. Curses and abuses flow around like it were running out of fashion. A Parsi looking guy is concerned about the scratch the speeding motorbike just left on his brand new car. His abuses get lost in another set of honks from the vehicles behind him. Two Muslim women take advantage of the halt and cross the road along with their children. They walk past me shaking their heads and cursing the rising traffic related problems of this city. I see a young man get out of his rickshaw stuck in the jam and making his way to the front with files clutched tightly in his hands. All set for the interview, I think. I can feel the tension writ large on his face. He hardly notices the beggar who pleads him for alms, but folds his hands and seeks blessings from the temple at the corner while still finding his way out of this jungle of vehicles. Pleading for Divine intervention. Strange how our prayers are so dependent on each other. For beggar, it would have been like answer to his prayers if the young guy would have dropped a couple of nickels in his bowl. And the young chap desires divine help to impress the person he is going to meet, so that he drops the job offer in his bowl. In this sea of vehicles and irritated audience, there is hardly anyone who has a smile on his face. I see tense faces, angry ones, irritated bunch and the vocal lot.

Babubhai places my tea on the table. I take a sip and marvel at the fact that how conveniently we have forgotten to smile. There are seemingly a million forces at work to wipe off that smile from your face. All that matters is how to cling on to the next rope from the one that you are hanging from presently. All I see around is childhood lost. Innocence raped. Conscience murdered. 

I glance at my watch. Its 9:00 am. Time to move. I gulp the remnants of my cup and head to clear my dues. I let out a small shriek at the new set of honks from the background. That's when I notice the little ragpicker behind this bread stall, combing through the garbage and sorting out stuff. In that moment, to me his garbage bag looks like the route to salvation for all the discarded articles within his sight. Those who go into his back are in with a chance for a better tomorrow while the others retire to their destiny. The ragpicker goes about his business and moves his hands through the garbage like an expert. His hands have been trained to sift wheat from the chaff. He has been thrown in front of life to face its brutalities and survive, while his peers are parroting their way through Darwin's theory of survival of the fittest. Strange are the ways of nature. 

My thoughts are interrupted with a sudden change of expression on the face of the ragpicker. He seems to have come across something significant for him to let go off his bag and get completely involved with the catch. At a closer glance, I recognize the wrapping. A bar of chocolate. As the ragpicker unwraps his find, I can see a beam of happiness in that smile of his. The smile of contentment. Unwary and uncaring of what lies ahead in the day. Just enjoying this moment of bliss. Living in the moment. I smile having witnessed this scene. I silently wish how better off we would be if we could start living and enjoying the moment while it lasts instead of worrying about what lies ahead. I silently wish for some sanity in this seemingly insane world. I silently wish for the lost childhood in each one of us. I silently wish for a better tomorrow.
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*Pic courtesy : Sandwich wallah - Novin

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

198.Complete the Nest - By Asbah Alaena

198.Complete the Nest - By Asbah Alaena
Written by Asbah Alaena,

Complete the Nest

The twilight cruises over classic blue sky, buds of March sprout, the yellow flaunts in the green and the sparrows twitter, from this branch to that hopeful to lure their mates.

She brushes the hair from his eyes "may be, my brown eyed darling" she says, "may be I nurture you, and bring you the comfort and bliss".
"May be I love you like you've never loved before"
"May be we can reach the galaxies of stars and fathom the depths of sea!" she smiles, "and may be not".

He looks into her drown-able eyes and finds the stars shining in them. He flies out to collect the raw straw, knowing that she will make his nest complete.

Thursday, February 04, 2010

197.Ste...A Connoisseur of Human Relationships - By Amity Me

197.Ste...A Connoisseur of Human Relationships - By Amity Me
First, I would like to start this guest post with an acrostic that I have written, I guess, almost four months ago, and it was the Solitary Writer who inspired me to write about it. I was not contributing yet at Amias' AO that time but I did have some fun writing acrostics already. Here it is:

Pen does its tasks
Of scribbling carefully
Each ideas and
Thoughts of the
Solitary writer.



Well, he often tells in some of his posts/comments that poetry writing is not his forte. But I would like to negate him for that matter.


I guess, if you know how to write, you are interested in trying some other forms of prose and poetry writing. Now I surmise, he's kinda lazy trying it....lolz....peace to you son! But I guess I am exactly right!


I met him through the lounge. After that encounter with a stalker, I was about to give up being a member but some good-lounger-friends (Shraddha and Leo) assured me that comment moderation will solve the problem, or rather arrests future stalkers like that.


So I went active. I wrote. I came up with post after posts! Got some three votes for MOM nominations. (Ste, what's up with this now?)


I learned that he is one of the co-founder of the lounge. He loves to write posts that are meant for attaining good interpersonal relationships with families and friends and all kinds of people. I always comment his works that he lectures like a psychologist, a master of human relations and he could do well as an HR head in a multi-national company. But he is an IT wizard I guess, a software engineering graduate if my memory serves me right.


When he said that he's gonna be out for some months to work in a company where they will not be allowed to manipulate computers connected with the net, I was thinking at the back of my mind that they do not trust software engineers cause they might put their company in jeopardy...(hackers????).


Then he kindly asked me to do a guest post, I being a close buddy of him and maybe, I, being a member of the lounge where he manages, because he will be out for quite sometime and he is about to celebrate his 200th post. I was hesitant at first, but in the end finally accepted his request and hence, I will be doing his 198th post!


Without much ado, I wish you Ste that good fortune will come your way as you are about to plunge into the corporate world (rat race boy is the in thing there if you want to survive). You will surely experience some highs and lows in your career but do consider them as challenges or opportunities that will give you a pot of gold (share me some if you hit one..lolz...:)..:P). Work hard, work hard, work hard.


And of course, don't forget the lounge and the people there. They are all part of your blogging life. Also, try to be visible in your own blog coz I know your followers will miss you and I am one.


Good luck in your journey and God bless.




(Folks, I consider Ste as a son to me and he's just as happy calling me Mom....:) thanks Ste, it's a privileged being called Mom by buddies like you...;)


I will always be a follower,







---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
P.S. Please don't hesitate to edit my work, okay? I would be glad if you do....:)

Monday, February 01, 2010

196.Age Matters - By Arjun

196.Age Matters - By Arjun
( First of all, Stibu mama, congrats for your 200 posts. That is mind blowing for a fact. Second of all, thanks for inviting me (ARJUN aka RJ,) to write on your blog. And the last of all, let’s get back to some leg pulling. :P )

RJ and Ste sat staring at the boarding passes of their flight to Delhi. The airport terminal resembled a 5-star fish market, where everyone stuck out disguising masks of ‘respectability’ and ‘decency’. RJ, who observed this, drifted back into thoughts relating this situation to his bunking sessions in college, which eventually used to end up in a multiplex. He recollected himself and his friends, behaving like goons when in a local theatre but when they entered a multiplex they would all transform themselves into Mr. Diplomats.

Ste, who was still scanning his boarding pass through his multi layered glasses with his eyes, all of a sudden turned around and said to RJ- “ yayy..!! I got the window seat.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. I turned 22 last week.” RJ lashed back.

Ste dint get the point as he went on to reply dryly- “Me too.”

The announcement was made for the passengers to board the flight, after which it took less than a milli-second for Ste to stand up (like a military man), put his bags over his shoulders and rush to the entrance. Meanwhile, RJ, more like a 22 year old senior citizen, walked pace-deprived towards the formed queue. Ste, who was the first in the queue, turned behind, spotted RJ and exhibited his teeth. RJ waved back, which could have been easily mistaken for a flying-kiss. Anyway, the queue trickled into the aircraft with RJ being one of the last to enter in. The air-hostess greeted him with a wide, pretty and an attractive smile which reminded RJ of his present relationship status (a singleton) as his mind talked to himself- “Air-Hostess. Pukka. Confident. Lock kiya jaye”


RJ squeezed through the passage towards his seat to find that Ste was already seated beside the window. RJ blinked his eyes twice and discovered a fully make-up clad girl seated next to Ste, in the centre seat across the cramped three seat'er. RJ smiled at the girl, twisted his nose at Ste and slid into the seat next to her. The girl sat sandwiched between RJ and Ste, one young and one old, but both 22. RJ threw laser looks at the girl for durations varying from 1 sec to 1.5 secs, which helped him decided that she was cuteness personified. RJ, smiled like Charlie Chaplin, and enquired- “Hello, I am Arjun, better known as RJ. May I know your name please?”

Ste shot back irritably- “Her name is Smitha. She’s going to Delhi to meet her brother.”

RJ said sheepishly – “Oh that is nice,” as he made signals with his eyes towards Ste as if to say- “Shut up and look out of the window.”
Anyway, RJ didn’t lose hope, mustered up a master plan and asked her- “Me and him are friends you know. If you could kindly shift to the left of me, it would be so kind of you.”

Ste couldn’t control his mouth- “Mister. What is your seat number? Better sit in which ever seat you are allotted with.”


“If you can please…………?” RJ replied with a pissed off smile leaving the blank for him to fill up.


Smitha, who seemed to enjoy this, turned to RJ, stretched her hand out and said-“Hi. I’m Smitha. Glad to meet you,” and shook hands. RJ’s mind talking began with an altered version now- “Not air-hostess. Co-passenger. Pukka. Confident. Lock kiya jaye.” Smitha then turned to Ste and said- “ Stephen. I like your name. It’s very sweet.” Ste bent forward, fixing a look at RJ and winked. RJ sat biting his lips.

The air-hostess in the meanwhile came with a tray full of toffees, as RJ emptied almost half the tray into his six-pocketed pant. Smitha took a couple of them, followed by Ste, who unusually took just one toffee against his usual number which varied in multiples of ten. Ste commented at RJ- “Somebody told they turned 22.”

RJ stared back like an angry villain of the 1950s. He sat depressed as Ste and Smitha struck up a conversation and got busy laughing away. Meanwhile, the pretty air-hostess came by and helped RJ fix his seat belt and gave that mesmerising smile again. RJ’s lights glowed as his mind took off just like their aircraft. It announced- “Air-hostess only. Pukka. Confident. Lock kiya jaye.”

Anyway, in the next hour or so, RJ had exchanged about a hundred smiles with the air-hostess with Ste busy sharing notes about his doggy, with Smitha. Meanwhile, the flight began its descent and touched base at the Delhi airport. It was time to alight; it was time to settle matters. RJ and Ste (along with Smitha) waited for everyone to leave, and then finally headed towards the exit. RJ, as he approached the air-hostess began getting tensed as he feared dejection and embarrassment as and when he would express those magical words. He stopped in front of the smiling air-hostess, smiled and began to say- “ I….I …… ..Lo …..”

“I’m 23 and married.” The air-hostess smiled.

“What?” he got submerged in embarrassment, cleared his throat and said shamelessly- “By the way, I was just saying I liked your service” for which he got a sarcastic smile in return.

“I’m just 22 anyway.” RJ announced as if he knew nothing about anything.


“Okay, I’m 26 and engaged.” Smitha made it clear.

Ste lost 1000 tonnes on his smile and said- “ Damn. I’m just 22.”

The three walked away in silence as RJ and Ste heard something from behind, though they weren’t sure if they had actually heard it or if it was just an illusion. It sounded something like- “ PIGS…”