Okay! So I’m scripting this one down after apparently an era. And boy, it surely kicks the excitement and exhilaration within me. Like all the grimes I’ve renovated my blog with, probably this one wont make enough sense either. But anyways, who cares for the screwed “intellectuals” who cant even be perceptive towards an article written by a 20 year old. Ha!
 But really, coming back the blog-ism is pure reminiscence. There is certainly nothing better than a hot, boiling cup of coffee; with a piece of writing, and watching Australia screw the Kiwis on their home grounds; the Kiwis denying a boundary every second ball. Really gets the tickle out of oneself!
 So why I really couldn’t be on the publishing lists all this while; yeah, all credit to the plagues of chickenpox that were driving me into the blizzard of seclusion, monotonous mind numbing inhibitions. Just try featuring out this equation: out of nowhere (on the Christmas day, you fond out you’ve been infected with Cpox. For some there might be scintillating news blasting into the territory - you might not give the examination tomorrow, but what  the hell; the teacher for that particular subject is way too easy going, and would give you a 40 on 60 even if you had portions of grimes and crap stacked all over your answer sheets (what gets the word ‘worse’ pop up to life is that the re-examination would be held after a year; so when all your friends are partying out, you are sitting in your room cramming what seems to be an irrelevant and not to forget the most menacing of the pieces of text; cursing the author of that book to work on something instead of writing; because his writing curses the students!!)
 And then, you have no idea that you’ll have to be stuck within one room for a next 3 weeks! Alright yeah, probably for the jail convicts, this thing doesn’t get them astounded (and why the hell should it! 3 weeks of solicitation would apparently be a bliss to them!). But hey, for an outgoing person, who loves being a part of the populace, who loves paying a visit to the neighbourhood market everyday (no matter if the market is drawn in filth or not), who loves LIVING OUT in simpler terms, and who doesn’t envisage to be confined within the walls of just one room; its undoubtedly a curse.
 Forgetting the street food is what swings in the nuisance. Though all the oldies at your place ‘advice’ to not have them, but you pay for a sneak out. (doesn’t happen anyways!). The mouth watering pani puri, chola bhatura, kachoris, samosas. Now, why on earth would anyone deny that? You end up making a decision that you’ll make your favourite cuisines cash in justification for their call (me talking big, huh?), even if being sick for a couple of weeks more was brought in. 
 Moreover, everything seems to be running away from you. You prophesize  to have everything belonging to your desired lists of comfort in that one room; that doesn’t count to a heater, or anything that conditions your health, but you actually mean the internet wire, loads of DVDs, a couple of EA sports of games. But guess what? You suddenly realize that life’s all that sunny.
 (and by this time, the Kiwis had struck back. Man! Was I so incredibly wing in saying the Aussies kick brilliant ass!)
 So reverting back, yeah, the veracity is far, far away from your wildly loosened anticipations. To begin with, the internet that could’ve been one of the alternatives to the bitter(sweet) medicines to provide relief for you, but the wire cannot be stretched till that room. And to get it done, the guy who could’ve fixed it demands for a price of Rs. 200 (and you end up saying, “what a jerk!! Just a wire!). No television, and no radio. And then you keep wondering scratching your head, what is it really that can keep me going within this time limit of 3 weeks. (and to add to the disgusting injury, you’re cell phone doesn’t catch the signal in that room. Beat that!).
 (after a couple of minutes, the Aussies are seen lifting the trophy! I was so damn correct in the first place. Still wondering what made me switch tables!!)
 So the question still stands on the pinnacle of all heights, waiting to be accomplished, but like I said, the sun isn’t shining (man! When did the clouds get so concrete?). All you can do is sit with the laptop, and probably write. But then having struck by a confinement (and then writing) doesn’t really make sense. I mean, not to me surely. How can probably one write being under the same quilt for 3 weeks, which at the end of every day is stinking more than the filth pot. And you can only get up and maneuver yourself out of the room if you have to pee. However, the filth doesn’t restrict itself to just there. No coming in touch with water, no washing your face, no bath. “EWWWWWWWWWWWW”. well, if you want to take your chances and begin with some writing, you can try, but wont turn to be a clean one!!
 You believe the only couple of DVDs that you’ve got after umpteen cradles and persuades would be a “time pass” after dark, that’s not how the equation works. Your pa snoops in to your room, and dictates you go off to a nap!
 Ever heard? That there is a alternative medical solution to every ‘fall’ of yours. Well, I wont say it really brought me wonders, but yeah, kind of worked! The anti allergic pills that you have draw the angels of sleep, for the entire day! Now the ‘time pass’ thing was a definite fixture, you really don’t have to scratch your head the entire thinking what has the plan of action for the entire day. Easy enough to hit the sack instead. But what really unleashes the dark, turbulent and menacingly traumatizing slots is that you keep dreaming (not day dreaming, the traditional dreaming; the one in your naps) throughout the stroke of midnight - on the new year’s eve as well!!
 I wont be here writing my diary (lolzz), but after those 13 days, really the sun and the sky seem to be taken out of the oven, absolutely in mint condition. The first ride after the ‘convicted’ confinement is purely bliss. You don’t mind the heat in the middle of the December chill (it actually oozes the sweat out of you; IN WINTERS!). To cram it up in one nutshell, life is shining gold otherwise. Close