The Survivor Is Back

Except for a silly description of disastrous-cooking, I wasn't blogging recently! The reason is here for you to see:

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In case you didn't realise it, that was my dear Bapi's left leg badly burnt. I actually took this picture because Bapi insisted that I wasn't brave enough.
(He got burnt last wednesday, 9th April. The picture was taken on Thursday. And the cooking~thingy was started to impress my bedridden Papa *sigh*)

Bapi's V-E-R-Y strong (mentally, that is). He'd keep laughing and telling everyone that "it just doesn't hurt". Although we all know how bad a 30% burn can feel!!!
His wounds consumed more than five tubes of Sulphadiezene, Neosporin and Ledercolt... and yet he'd insist "it just doesn't hurt".

You know what, its pretty useless getting me to believe that made-up consolation. Knowing myself what boiling-water can do and carrying a huge keloid on my shoulder... I'm kind-of a scholar in this field.

Here's a pic of my 'kute keloid' if ya don't believe me. Chances are, you've never actually noticed it on my shoulder :

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(Its actually cute... kinda looks like a hungry pokemon trying to gobble something... or maybe it looks like a magnified amoeba...Oh! Whatever!!)

Anyway. The blogger is back... after a week long vacation of unrest, my exams flouted me! (DO NOT CHALLENGE GRAMMTICAL ERRORS, they may not be accidental) But I'm still keeping up my smiley-cheerie-naughty spirits. That's called cali (short for calibre, if you're dumb enough to not know it!). Therefore...
Hail All... The Survivor Is Back
To eat into more blogospheric space and bore the hell out of you

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By the way, I recently discovered that my Nokia 6020 is great. I don't care what your cell does, but mine takes awesome pictures. So, from now on, I'll upload one randomly selected image from my 6020Gallery

Today's Random Image:

DISASTER in the KITCHEN

Today I made an 'effort' to make chowmein... (For those saying, "what's so good about that"-> I FORBID you to read further!!!). Anyway! So, as I was saying, I tried to make gravy-chowmein and it turned into a dry, sticky lump of God-knows-what. I mean, making Maggi is just so easy. And even ACT II Popcorn (GOD SHOWER HIS BLESSINGS ON THAT COMPANY...AMEN!) And I really really adore those chutki-mein-taiyaar Knorr soups - tomato/ thick chicken/ sweet corn -----> YUMMY (Those saying "I hate Knorr, ota abar soup holo".... Listen, just don't KNOW how to prepare it. You're ignorant. Admit it.)
I feel, Knorr is a blessing-in-a-packet for kitchen first-timers. *clap* *clap* *clap*

Anyways, as I was saying, the chowmen went so berserk that even my sweet father {who's been ordered 'complete bed-rest'(watever tht means) because of his 30% burn} pulled up his nose and said..."HMM!!" [ He says 'hmm' whenever he's
a) sad
b) disappointed
c) confused
d) secretly ecstatic
e) etcetera
f) etcetera
g) etcetera.... WHATEVER!!!]
So he said 'HMM' and when I looked glumly at him, he thought I was about to cry (Note: I wasn't) and so my dear father said in his characteristic I-know-EXACTLY-what-went-wrong voice: "As a first timer, its commendable. Bhheeeeeshon bhalo. Ranna to pure chemistry. Porer baar thikthak proportion koro. Its FINE! just ektu goley gechhe. apart from that, its first-class!"

Now it was my turn to say "HMM"!!!! Coz Bapi's words did nothing to lift my sagging morale!

To make matters worse, the milk fermented inside the teapot while I was making tea.

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here"

Now who would call THIS thing TEA?????






Still apparently undefeated I went back to my first kitchen-love - Act II.
The result.... tantannnaaaaa....

*smile* *smile* *blush* *blush*

And thus I murderd my hunger and saved the day. *applause*
Now I munch popcorn and watch replays of Team Bangladesh defeating Team SouthAfrica. Now that India's not IN, I support bangladesh, then I'll support WestIndies... then I'll support SriLanka... then I'll support Australia....
not my philosophy.... that was as per general public opinion (polls not conducted)... I'm not much of a die-hard cricket-fan!

(N.B. : If you're thinkin that I'm ignorant BCoz I don't know how to cook... wait till I learn it. Ungliya chaat-te reh jaogey! *smile with twinkle in the eye* )

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high

"চিত্ত যেথা ভযশূন্য উচ্চ যেথা শির, জ্ঞান যেথা মুক্ত, ...
যেথা বাক্য হৃদযের উতসমুখ হতে উচ্ছসিযা উঠে, ...
নিজ হস্তে নির্দয় আঘাত করি পিতঃ ...||"

"...Where words come out from the depth of truth"

I don't know what made me connect Tagore's poem to this picture. The poem speaks of Tagore's vision for his country and the people of the world in general; the picture speaks of perhaps the greatest guilt the 'I' in question will probably ever feel. One is a general approach to 'what should be'~ a Utopia... the other is very very personal, and very much an indication to what should not have been. One is a call to future... the other is a look-back at past.
Both speak of some deep regret.

I was just listening to an interview, an audioclip I downloaded from a Postsecret link, and I was tempted to revisit the site now (in spite of the fact that I have an Xam tomorrow and I'm still doubtful of the syllabus!!). What caught my attention was this terrible sense of guilt that might've been running through the man's mind when he was actually writing on the card and deciding to mail it to Postsecret. Also, the way he doesn't forget to mention that 'she' was 'depressed' when he told her what he did... the emotions he might've felt when she actually did it...


How often have WE spoken carelessly? I've done that plenty of times, and never till now did I actually feel how terribly wrong things might've gone because of me. Every other day I tell my friends "let's jump from this balcony! Where do you think we'll fall? In the middle of the field, or on someon'e head? If we fall on someone's head will he/she be hurt (obviously!) ? Will we die? What if we don't?.... etcetera... etcetera". Did I ever think what if someone actually does it?
Would I blame myself I someone did? Would I, if that someone was my friend? Would they if that someone was me?

Would such a self-questioned person be able to live on with his 'head held high'?