I-Candy..

Let me move forward. Let me wait until the job is fully over.
When I drop on the floor, a human being cleans after me

The aforementioned adage holds such relevance in our day to day hourly life. These holy words transpired and inspired my way of living, thinking and “standing”. If you are confused then hold your horses and continue reading to eschew obfuscation. It will revolutionize the way you think while “standing” if you embrace it to your DNA level.

It was the time to inaugurate the new innings in my career. It was the time to pop the champagne cork. I landed on Bangalore International Airport in the evening, very much disappointed, rejected, dejected with the 'Metallic Kite' experience. The name Spice Jet is as oxymoronic as Ghulam Nabi Azad’s name for the food was never spicy nor was the air-hostess.Pointlessly pointing to my pointed gayer side, the flight stewards were smoking hot. I felt chicaned by the blatant fact: they took 6000 bucks just for showing me the hanger of nebulous clouds levitating that reminiscence the chimera of the paintings I used to make during my huggies days.

It was at 10 am in the morning, I went to have my breakfast near the vicinity of, which is known modern temple to the Spunkers of Bangalore, National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT).
Who said there are so few pretty girls in this world? haan? haan?
Touché!! Well whoever said he was veridically correct in his assumptions as destiny has mustered all the pretty and ‘opulent’ girls into NIFT. Don’t read too much in that single quote after all more the opulence, more is the embellishment :)

What Bhawanipore college is for Calcutta, NIFT is for Bangalore though the difference here is the girls are more open by virtue of their top(s), bottom(s) and ofcourse mind. The former attributes are attributed to the romanticization with the Occidental culture while the latter is implicitly bestowed upon them by The Almighty since eons.*okie for all smarties who could fathom, I accept there was some pun intended in the latter attribute*.
Voila!! She was sitting in the staircase at the infamous “Chandu Dhaba”, softly holding a jam bun cushioned in her beautiful palms, surrounded by ‘gray desert’ of people. She was wearing a casual black tee with a printed Panda sardonically smiling; almost mocking at every guy on this planet Earth for the ‘Throne’ he was ushered in. Even the Panda tee read “I am coveted, you are orphaned”. Her white shorts, slightly smaller than my roomy’s underwear which he frequently wears inside out(ulta), drew out her long-legs properly pedicured , nails painted with pulverized diamond mixed in pinkish nail enamel.

I went inside the dhaba carrying the grotesque image of her leg constantly oscillating in the lush green garden of my mind until I saw a gargantuan aunty staring at me. I looked at the menu and was befuddled by the exorbitant price of the menu items. It seemed rather she was charging her customers for NSP (NyanSukhPrapti) than for food. I covered the menu item column with my left hand and focused on the right-rate column. After extrapolating, I ordered the cheapest item available in Bangalore- a plate of Idly. The aunty pretty much disappointment with my extrapolation gave me a scary look and went inside while I continued with, which was planned by the Holy Lord for the men: to adore beauty.

Her long topsy-turvy hair was like uninterrupted snow fall though light brown that stuck to her head like duck-fluff, making drape curves propelled by gentle warm breeze. Perennial Beauty!!... My dexterous mind confided to my sycophant heart. One quintessential of her panache was her nose-ring, which was adding fuel to the fire…hot pe hot tantamount to super hhott with 2 h’s and 2 t’s. The world has never been fair to the stronger sex. If a guy longs to become hot, he needs to get a six pack(I meant the abs :p). If a girl wants to become hot, all she needs is a nose-ring?...omg I almost said Dabaang…phew!!

“Idly...Idly..Idlyyyy” someone hollered from behind interrupting my adoration of the surreal lady. I took the plate, came back and put it on the round table. I saw the Idlys then the girl…then the girl and again Idlys. A huge tension plagued in some of my organs. It was the battle between the eyes and stomach. The stomach was craving for Idlys and the eyes for beauty. It was epic and became the battle between unstoppable muscle forces against immovable eye objects. I coaxed my mind to turn interlocutor hence it kicked the stomach to peace and my triumphed eyes perpetuated to look at the object.

Her brilliant radiant eyes looked, depending on the sunlight, gold, green and even sometimes sapphire. Indeed Beauty lies within the Eyes. Such Pulchritude!!.. Her physical beauty must have tempted countless men to sin or ‘restroom’ for sure. Her moist luscious lips shinning with a tinge of extra lip-gloss gave me an illusion as if saliva of ‘honey’ gushed out of her mouth and was hanging to the lower lips. I touched my lips, they were dry, broad and as rough as usual with no sign of honey.
She took the bite of the jam bun slowly; scintilla of jam stuck to her lower lip. It was not her nature to brutalise the jam bun as we guys do while eating, she was like a poet caressing the bun with a delicate touch by her fragile long fingers. Her left hand nails were long, imperial and had creamy finish. During my school days even I once had long nails but was immediately slacked off by: friends baptizing me with hindi version of ‘fool’, my cousin sister christening me as ‘jaanwar’ and my mom went to the extent of exemplifying my sisters comment ‘reech’.

All in all she was looking as young and fresh as this very moment and I was as old as universe. Her taste was particular and style peculiar. Her physical vitality and ‘mouth agility’ exuded great confidence while I stood as dumb as a doorpost. I have always wondered how the femmes accost so fluently while for me to speak, first I have to cultivate the thoughts, search for words in my brain museum and then frame the sentences, in the meanwhile the other person doze off. It looked so effortless while for me it takes tons of effort to appear effortless.

Coming back to the oasis of charm, she was like a dew drop in the gray desert-so exotic..so rare. The providential warm breeze planted kisses on her cheeks killing the luminosity of the glow. For the first time I cursed my existence of being human. I wished I were a tornado, would have taken her in my arms and like swirling Shaktimaan …off to paradise.

She was talking to her classmate who was sitting infront of her in a plastic chair. Her classmate’s apparel started from her ‘betel leaf’ like assets with a strap on each shoulder and ended just two inches below the hip. The unfathomable design of the tattoo on her back was looking more like a printed sticker that came free with bubble gums. Her fashion faux pas suggests she was a complete misfit in fashion industry like I am in engineering; probably as misfit as a square pin in a round hole. Talking more about the population of the gray desert was a bleak guy, so weak could even pass through an eye of a needle. If she was misfit to fashion, this guy was misfit to the world. He seemed to be freshly squeezed out of pastry tube and was probably the result of copy-paste sex. He looked like a cross between a sick fragile black goat and a filthy old mutt.

The cross-guy was furiously trying to make her understand something. I overheard; it was on electrons and protons. How can anyone…I mean seriously anyone even talk about physics with such a Damsel. Well if it was biology I would have known his ‘intensions’ but physics…argss?? It’s Felony!! If it were in times of Caesar (my alter ego), he was doomed to be roasted and thrown to the Lions!! My nimble pea nut brain so wanted to employ an epigram in the terminology of physics which was quite common during our school days.. ”If electricity comes from electrons then moron-ity comes from morons” As expected she was least interested in his forceful conversion and almost gave a big “fake yawn”. It was clearly a euphemism for “Phuck off” (femmes are so multitasking they can fake anything.. from fake Y to fake O ;)

She stood up-heaving looking after her cell phone every minute. Her relationship with her cell phone was as unassailable as ‘Man-Hand’ relationship.With both feet pointing away from me she walked away and disappeared in thin air.


P.S : 1) The quote mentioned at the start is scribed on the wall of my company's restroom.Everytime I read, it makes me move a little forward..
Click to see the IMAGE here.
2)Ghulam and Azad in same name is itself contradictory..

250 secs with Mallika Sherawat - II

The relentless bombardment of dirty thoughts finally halted when Malikaye Hindustan exuded my name juxtaposed with the Edison’s invented word Hello (Contd...)

Me : Hello Mallika howz you

William Brother hollered something which I didn’t fathom as I was obsessed with her sensuous voice. Finally, he again regurgitated the same threesome lines and guess what, he would listen to our conversation.

Mallika : I am doing great. What about you and what do you do, Ankit ? (aha aha I am so in love with my name)

Me : I am pursuing Engineering.
Mallika : Oh wow, I am impressed!!!

After the aforementioned word I went blank probably because of the zeitgeist of guilt that Engineering being so over hyped profession that it can impress someone from bollywood.

Mallika : Which field you are in?
Me : Computers (I have always abhorred the word IT, so any novice who inquires, I retort Computer engg)

Mallika : that’s wonderful
Me : So when is your movie(Hisssss..) releasing.

Mallika : ah its on...near completion
Me : My hearty wishes for its success. It would be a great hit.

Mallika : So sweet of you…but you have to promise that you will go and watch
Me : ya definitely, I will take my entire bunch of blokes
Mallika : thanks Ankit …(aha aha I so love my name aha aha)

*Few seconds of silence*

Me : Hey Mallika do you know I am a Magician
Mallika : oh really what kind of magic ?

Me : I can show it on you now
Mallika : acha ?

The ugly brother interrupted again in his american style woahing 3-4 times…I surmise he was trying to say wait wait wait but the accent made it sound like woah woah woah (exactly the sound of an ugly mutt).Now he wanted to inquire about what kind of magic I am going to employ upon the damsel.

William : What kind of magic? What you gonna do? First tell me ?
Given my sponge soaked natures intelligence, I was not going to waste my magic on an ugly retard so I ignored him.

Me : Don’t worry it will not harm you, Mallika
Mallika : You know William is very caring so you know….(Yes I know he is one kind of obnoxious weed)

William : zeigbousta geitoraaa hshdfks (which I eventually didn’t fathom and ignored him again. Some people really don’t understand that they are unwanted!)

Me : yeah but don’t worry Mallika…how can it harm you when you are on phone
William : dsgfkas hkshfk kjagsfkjas

I surmise that common sense prevailed in the ambience of her gray cells but the interlocutor was still not convinced. Oh! how i wished to inject his brain with 1 ml of intelligence.Instead of convincing that dumb I went ahead and employed one of my favorite quote which has been fired to very few of my favorite girls

“ Mallika,Take eleven red roses and look into the mirror you will find it twelve “

There was a pause of few seconds.She was obfuscated as small baby would be in a topless dance bar. After the quote William brother’s mind became tranquil and started pondering what actually I was trying to do. After few seconds I cajoled her

.”...because you are no less than a Red Rose “

Then she beamed , blushed and we all burst into laughter and finally that idiot had a sigh of relief that she was still alive.

Mallika : that was awesome and indeed you are a magician..
Me : thank you

Mallika : okay Ankit its time to sleep (as it was night in LA), It was wonderful talking to you.

Me : It was all my pleasure….and all the best again for your movie
Mallika : thank you and East or West India is the Best…I miss India
Me : yeah we Indians are the best….saare jaaha se acha Hindustan hamara !! Bubbyee

250 sec with Mallika Sherawat

Going to college is like a battle for me which I always rosily look forward to lose. One fine morning when the sun was beating its hammer on the anvil of the land, I fully equipped my arsenal and took the chariot(yeah the red color minibus) for the battlefield. As the chariot wheels started trolling a gentleman sitting in-front of me ushered his seat to a ravishing 31st century girl(you will never find a 21st century girl in my area divulging her cleave as big as palk strait). Cursing my fluke or rather disappointed at the prima facie, I stared at my fellow gentleman with the slightest hope that had he done that philanthropy I would have benefited him with the chariots fare. As I was trying to consolidate my deviated focus to the locus ahead, my harbinger rang “aahun aahun”. It was one of my classmate saurav who reminded me that we have to submit internetworking report file. His voice was so profound that I almost came back to 21st century. The phone call resurrected my garden of dirty thoughts from the palk strait straight to the battlefield within nano-seconds. I challenged my intellectual and as usual it began transporting notions to rationalize.The thought of what-excuses-can-be-made” perpetually floated through the lush green garden of my mind until I reached the battlefield.

As I was looking for a rickshaw saifu sang again “aahun aahun”. A husky voice in American accent pouted something. The decade long stint of my phone was always entitled to communicate in hindi/hinglish therefore it couldn’t even decode a single word of that accent. The voice was like Amitabh Bachaan minus American accent narrating the prologue of some b-wood flick. I was about to disconnect thinking of the credit card or some insurance baskies until I figured out the word “twitter”. Without the flex of any neuron the whimsical figure of Mallika Sherawat reminiscence from the museum of my past, eclipsing my temple. A fresh unleash of blood pumped out of my heart electrifying my skeleton. I was feeling like a newly married groom who is just minutes away from entering the room at his first h-moon, unable to control the titillation. The train of dirty thoughts finally boarded at the station when a cocky voice (yeah u know the arrogant emo type americans) uttered “you are the winner of twonnet(poem) contest”; err giving me the blinding glimpse of the conspicuous. Given the naughty americans love for three (I mean the digit 3), he went on pouting that she will call you right after 3 minutes and you will be allowed to talk for only 3 minutes as she is tired and will go to sleep after 3 minutes. Given my precociousness, I intervened him “who are you, what’s your name.” He retorted back William, I am her American brother. My past experience of listening to rather most humiliating line for the adolescent India “All Indians are my brothers and sisters” made me grinn, wow the Americans follows the same suit. After hanging up my phone a juice poured out of my cerebrum “In USA does brother tantamount to a bodyguard?” yuck pseud Americans, I mumbled.

Through one of my sense which comprise of lens saw a train of yellow buses (the heritage buses) beaconing which had always vexed the college road hence like a vagabond I started searching for a tranquil lane. For the first time I found myself unperturbed, don’t know the exact reason probably I was chewing a gum which was like a sedative for me (or may be chewing a gum is always cool atleast infront of the femmes).After exactly four minutes (four??) saifu sang again and with that my adrenaline gland doubled its secretion with the purest of hope that a sensuous cum voluptuous voice of Indian accent will produce sound wave in my labyrinth. But as my destiny is linked with conspiracy, instead of the blessed damsel, William brother (wow that rhymed with William sisters) again regurgitated the same threesome lines. Finally he said ‘I am bringing her on the line and she is all yours for three minutes’. The latter part of his sentence made me intellectually bankrupt hence misting up my gray cells for seconds. The relentless bombardment of dirty thoughts finally halted when Malikaye Hindustan exuded my name juxtaposed with the Edison’s invented word Hello...

the conversation with MS in my next post...

Here is the TWITTER ANNOUNCEMENT and POEM

Pseudo-secularism..

Religion, caste, race and color are the roots which has lead to myriads of civil strife ubiquitously. Be it in India where hindu-muslim differences catapulted to partition, amercian civil war which put an end to the slave dynasty,south Africa’s policy of apartheid, irish-british conflicts, french war which bifurcated protestant and catholic, lebanese war between the christians and the muslims.
In theory according to the constitution of India, India is a secular state but pragmatically meditating on this will infer that it is unfortunately very far from it. Secularism means a doctrine that rejects religion and its religious considerations. Precisely the Government of India does not treat its citizen equal in matters of religion. It relentlessly gets involve in temple administration, temple funding or subsidizing pilgrimages.
Religion is very much a private affair and the state should not poke their nose in sectarian matters. The first bill of US rights prudently divulge that “congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibit the free exercise of promoting thereof..” It says ‘complete separation of church from the state’. The absence of religious strife in US is attributed to this law itself. This is why america is the strongest democracy.
While it is in uber contrast when we compare the status quo in India. The indian government pays a huge subsidy to its Muslim citizens for performing Haj to Saudi Arabia. In 2008, Rs 700 crores of the tax-payers money was paid for this purpose.
The rationale behind the Indian government subsidy goes against any notion of social equality and justice. No other country on earth including the Islamic country subsidizes Haj. Subsidies can be vindicated incase when market fails to deliver social optimal necessities for public good. But the subsidization of Haj is no market failure and the benefits are reaped only by one sect of the society. This tantamount to rob one sect to pay another sect as according to economic right one has the prerogative to spend one’s income as one sees fit. This also contravenes the free and fair elections in India as the political parties try to woo the muslim vote banks. Even the Prime Minister who is as innocent as freshly laid egg at the “All state Chief Minister” meet ranted that the minorities has the first right to the nation’s resources. That was a ridiculous statement as our PM and his party should embrace it to their DNA that each single individual is the smallest minority in any democratic state.
Finally, there is pernicious effect once an unearned benefit is granted, they will always expect more and more. And moreover if you try to dissolve the benefits, be prepared to face the wrath of beneficiaries. The politicians will never let 26% of the muslim vote bank to siphoned off. So this conundrum has only one solution: move the funding of Haj subsidy from public domain to private domain. Firstly, this will tranquil the non-muslims who thinks their moolahs are getting drained. Secondly, it will take out politics from the whole issue.
If India truly wants to be become a secular multi-religious state, the legislature should make amendments to its present etiquettes. It should not interfere in any religious matter whatsoever. The recent non-secular activities in India((kandhamal riots) are the major albatross in getting into the security-council. It’s very heart-breaking how each time India is denied its well deserved position in the security-council.

happy independence day.
Credit: Pragati

From Ape to bloke..

Innovation is the prerogative of the homo-sapiens. Everything in this world is created twice; firstly by contemplating and secondly by implementing those notions physically. The contemporary world is also a prototype what the “early man” vividly visualized then. The vogues of the world are somehow attributed to the erstwhile generations who innovated every unnatural piece in this earth. The adage “Necessity is the mother of all invention” holds true for each diminutive invention that the man has ever invented”.
Early man used to communicate through sign languages. Afterwards they felt the need to better the mode of communication so they invented millions of jargons. Again after internationalization came into effect they felt the need of lingua franca so English became the universal jargon.
History tells us that early man used to stalk miles as a vagabond, they felt the need of wheels so they invented wheels so was the fire discovered and so were the weapons. The present generation common things are the innovations of the earlier generation.
The proliferation from early man to the modern bloke is profoundly the result of their necessities. The basic need of mind, body and soul can be plagiarized from the title of the notorious bollywood blockbuster roti, kapda aur makaan(food, clothing and shelter). These are the three meager need for which a thief steals in-spite the cognizance of the consequences if caught, a servant is always ready to serve his masters decibel of such intensity that even air would crackle with electricity. Human needs are insatiable and a person necessity can even shove a camel to pass through an eye of a needle.

Those were the days..

Those were the days when the moon shone
The luminance kissed the surface of river rhone
For now I am as depleted as ozone
Waiting for you to come to my zone

Those were the days when you used to be not around
My life would turn upside down
For in search of factitious crown
Mea-culpa, I made you frown

Those were the days when your one silent glare
Would beacon like magnesium flare
For now I am in dark
Where even mutts don’t bark

Those were the days when your garrulity made me smile
Like the flowers blossoming in the banks of river nile
For now I am missing that seraphic smile
Which culminates my visage to look like a senile

Those were the days when we used to debate
And I remember how everytime you made me wait
For now my tears has inundate
Oozed to the level to importunate

Life..

Everytime I look into the mirror,
you couldn't find a single error.
the day I don't look the mirror,
you find java.lang.Throwable error.

Everytime I motivated you,
you were filled with bliss.
when I needed motivation,
none was there even to diss.

Everytime you ditched,
I tried to stitch.
but none can go against the treacher life,
even when you are having a wonderful wife.

Everytime I had a dream,
you made me scream.
the louder i screamed,
more closer was I to my dream.

Poor SRK...

As the adage goes “Icons are not born rather made”. Icons are epitomized by billions of people in the globe irrespective of caste, creed, and race. But I know an Icon who seriously forged encroachment to multitudes of people. And he is none other than self-proclaimed (pun intended) King Khan. Here are few of his deed indeed needed to be mentioned…

1.He is the only reason why Shahid is still single.Sweet Shahid Kapur watched one of his movie (KKHH) in which Srk said “Hum jeete hai ek baar, marte hai ek baar, pyar bhi ekhi baar karte hai” (I live once,I die once,I love only once)These holy words got adhered into the cells of his temple as leeches get stuck to human skins. I guess this is why shahid never got into any relationship after the notorious break up with his first and only love (haha…hum jeete hai ek baar,marte hai ek baar …...)
Oh! my poor cow just watch the movie again that baskey married twice in the movie yaar.

2.Every mommas in the country have develop an abhorrence and are deeply upset with Srk as he is having a deadly impact on their children.Here is one conversation to follow
Audacious 10 yr child to his mom..
Son (strong voice): “Mummie mujhe isi ladki se shaadi karni hai.”(I want to marry this girl)
Mom (angry): “Kyun?”(Why)
Son (adamant): “Mujhe ussme rab dikta hai “(I see Lords image in her visage)
Mom (got red) : “toh?”(So)
Son (smiles) : “rab ko to na nahi kiya jaataaa naaa… “(We never ignore Lord)

3.Srk has even irked the younkers of this country.
Most of the deluded (by girls) rookies have began fuddling (after Devdas).Few people have heard them pouting” chandramukhi ya paro kya farak parta hai yaaro.”

Before the movie RNBDJ a mere red rose was too much to get a yes from a girl. But after watching that crap idiosyncrasies of the fairer sex has changed. They now want some unique style of proposing citing examples like torching up the streets (I LOVE YOU…punjab power lighting up your life jee)…what the eff? uska baap elec supply me hai kya (his dad is in electric co.)?

**There was a time when Bollywood was dominated by three mega stars - Dilip Kumar, Raj Kapoor and Dev Anand. These guys were far bigger than today's Kings and Queens but never used to proclaim who's is No.1....

P.S.This is my sheer innovation so dare not to share any of my jokes with cohorts

Mea-Culpa of the Taj Mahal...

“The Crown Palace” alias The Taj Mahal named after my third mistress Mumtaz Mahal, the jewel of the palace is the most mesmerizing masterpiece of my ancestors. If talented people hit the target which no one else can hit then comes a genius who hit the target without seeing it, my master was unanimously one. Beauty is the greatest seducer to the mankind and this genius was entangled by the ravishing aura of the princess that summed up my existence.
Twenty thousand labors were contemplating the script depicted by Ustad Ahmad Lahauri of Persia. Chiliads of elephants brought my bones (marbles) from different parts to frame me into the world’s framework.

If this world is considered to be a beautiful garden then I’m like a beautiful flower in it. I am ostracized by the ministerial to be gazed on a full moon as multitudes say I look bonniest on that day. The moon engulfs me in the ambience of lewdness. The couplets of stupid cupid swear by my exuberance.

I am lucky to have survived the radical changing world (world wars, indo-pak-china wars, terror strikes) for almost 400 years. There are gazillions replica made but none can compete with me. My master left no stone unturned so he chopped off forty thousand hands in front of me.
“Mea Culpa"...that was the most unbearable sight I have ever witnessed. The blood still oozes out like a gushing mountain stream and the fingers points at me. If Lord had provided me with choices then I would have audaciously chosen the hands when compared with my existence. Amino acid gushes out of my eyes that fills the river Yamuna (the reason for its saltiness). The onus of forty thousand hands still haunts me. How I wish if Lord can annihilate me and give their dues.

MAD-HE-MAD-ICS...

04/100 and 03/100 was my score in the first, second terminal examination(ripleys believe it or not!). Mesmerized? as a child who is seeing the magic but for the first time? yes this was my score in mathematics when I was in eighth standard (irony (breaking news): today I am an IT Engineer). Even Aryabhatta would have repented why he invented zero seeing the score of his indigenous student to be equivalent to it. Mathsophobia...more than seventy percent of greenhorn toddlers in India gets intimidated by the numeral system and being my inclination towards true patriot I was not left behind in-fact belonging to crème-de-la-crème of the seventy percent.

My aversion towards MAD-HE MAD-ICS began as an amateur when I was besieged to learn the multiplication tables and division juxtaposed to my woes. I contemplated, had there been only addition and subtraction, my stack of score could have been overflowed. My memory processing unit used to melt down whenever instruction like ÷,×,≥,≤,<,> came for opcode fetch. The memory read and memory write operations used to play game of swapping amongst in the neuron (yeah I really enjoyed learning 8085 microprocessor this semester :-)…. The huge Sridhar Acharaya formula still haunts me. How can any Indian with such spiritual name do this to another Indian?
At the eleventh hour of my exams I used to implore and adulate cohort for some illegal help.
My weary soul was searching for a lighthouse and I was like a floating ship without rudders.OMG! How I wish Taare Zameen Par was released at that time, I would have considered myself as “Lord’s Special child” .

I was deluded by people saying maths is as docile as a lamb. An inner racket woke my dormant mad-he-mad-ics talent. As vying got tougher (gratitude to my big ego…) it kindled my inner fire that was lurking for years. Consolidating my fragmented aplomb, I began to plan my maths innings. My first endeavor was to mug up the problems and guess what I was lucky enough… (Defacto : “something is better than doing nothing”) following the trend of Bengali egalitarian of mugging up everything. My sheer diligence fostered my score to move northward and abhorrence towards maths to move southward. My confidence grew more robust, mates independent and secure (java is too high on my priority list…)
As my adeptness pampered, the door of comprehending the problems got ajar and rest is history.

“Feed the faith fear will starve to death”

P S: Grammatical errors are intuitive to me and Chetan Bhagat..:-)