Category Archives: humor

Sweet n Sour

freedom-bird

I was a free bird. I am. I have big wings. I loved to fly. More than the flying I love to solve aerodynamics problem with wings spread wide.

She promised a lot. Promised me to let me fly whenever I wanted. Promised me not to touch my aerodynamics notebook ever. Promised me a bright future and new cage.

After twelve years a slave and innumerable ‘What-If’ Analyses…

Me: I don’t like you anymore. You have turned sour.

She: But grapes are sour too. And you love grapes.

Me: And so are lemons, but lemon and grapes have long legs and OMG lips. They both are presentable and eatable. Lemons and Grapes are naturally tangy. You are not even close to Tang.

She: What about cherries? You licked them so much.

Me: They are not red anymore. They have turned black.

She: And the berries?

Me: They are not black anymore. I like Apple better. Apple is sweet.

She: But I am sweet!!

Me: No sugar, you are not.

She: You can’t do this to me. All birds are dogs. I have lost faith in humanity.

Me: Tell me about it. I lost my faith in humanity when Kick made over 100 cr. You are late baby.

Err…Wait…How are we all dogs?

She: I donno. Dogs are adorable.

Me: You are adorable. Sour and adorable. Sour adorable bitch.

Freedom

P.S. This is nothing fancy. Just an abstract abstract of the conversation between a bird and his master Miss Canine Lovelace, affectionately known among her peers as Lady Loveless. If you are still overthinking you have too much time to waste. Go watch hindi movie.

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Status Update !!!

I was reading Rashmirathi by Ramdhari Sing Dinkar and realized that that there is too much fuss in India about pre-nupital sex and virgin mother. When ‘Kunti’ can become pregnant with ‘Karn’ before marrying ‘Pandu’ while having a so-called illicit relationship with the Sun God, why sex before marriage is still considered as a taboo in Indian Society (when it has already been portrayed in our mythology)?

I have been super bored for the last couple of weeks. Going through a writer’s block (pretty fashionable these days among bloggers eh..?) and dearth of topics to write on has really kept me entertained. My facebook addiction and my idle time gave me an opportunity to blabber my heart out in the FB LIBA Converts 2012-14 group.  I socialized so much that people got irritated and are really pissed off because of me. They have already formed an opinion about me that I am a complete wannabe social butterfly with no life whatsoever. Impressive first impression and that too even before meeting them personally.

Few days back my very close friend Podu was jumping with joy as he was expected to go onsite by June end. But due to some technical error and rising and falling of the value of Indian Rupee, his onsite got cancelled. Pretty devastated and dejected. He even planned to go for London Olympics. Now this type of things particularly happens to nice people only. The guy is a hard worker (not smart worker mind it) and has never taken part in office politics whatsoever. He never complained about the office pressure when others kept whining about it in front of him. He stretched his work hours and worked diligently asking nothing in return. But here he is with no rewards and an average rating, and this is only because he was not shrewd and never raised his voice to ask something in return of his dedication. I am exactly like him and I must learn from his situation that working hard and claiming reward, getting recognition both are equally important. Noted in the back of my mind.

Left my office last week. It is customary in my office to write a ‘bid adieu’ mail before you leave. The mail has a normal format with thanking everybody and showing off your English prowess. The mail contains your personal mail id and your facebook profile link and you hope that the cute and pretty girl in the other module/cubicle whose FB profile you used to stalk can send you a friend request. By the way that is never going to happen. If you could not talk when you were in office, how the hell will you become friends in Facebook, you stupid. In my case I would have also added the Baked Stale link in my mail, free marketing you know. But I did not do anything like that. Instead I went to every colleague’s seat  and personally said bye to them  except to the cute girl.

Now counting days to join LIBA.

BTW the name of my two new blogs are(looong names):

LIBA Blog : comedyoftrialanderrors (may be scrapped for some reasons)

Finance Blog : debitcreditmismatch

Suggestions on names appreciated.

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LIBA for diva? Naah…

I have been super lazy for not updating my blog. Being a stoner has its toll. Was busy making new friends. Yes I do have new friends. Old friends do u feel like losers? You all should. Was busy making friends with people who are going to join my new Alma Mater. Now I am ready to spill the beans.

I’m moving to Chennai. And most of the people are saying that I chose Chennai over Delhi just because my ex stays there. Let the morons speak and lemme tell you the truth. The truth is she is marrying a tamil guy and she has found the love of her life. Anyway I hate her because she did not give a blowjob to me (except that I have no regrets).

Caution : Don’t believe on any of the words written above. The previous pargraph has been written to draw attention and increase the number of visitors on Baked Stale.

But the partial truth is correct. I am moving to down south and chose it over the national capital. With my pathetic performance in CAT and XAT I was able to convert only 3 colleges out of all the colleges I applied to. I am a shameless loser. I will not lie. Goa Institute of Management (GIM)  rejected me and was thrown out of GD in TAPMI. I don’t regret. Who cares?

The colleges which found me worthy enough are :

1.Lal Bahadur Shashtri Institute of Management (LBS/LBSIM), Delhi

2.Institute for Financial Management and Research (IFMR), Chennai

3.Loyola Institute of Business Administration (LIBA), Chennai

Now the results came out in the same order as the above numbering. I even took admission in LBS before Chennai results were out. When IFMR and LIBA sent their convert letters I was in dilemma. I was confused whether I should stick to LBS or cancel my candidature for any other college. In the end I decided to go for LIBA.

Now ask me why I chose LIBA over LBS. Anyway I am going to tellya.

  1. LIBA is three ranks ahead of LBS in Pagalguy 2012 rankings and I followed it diligently for years.
  2. Delhi did not impress me. The city is filled with fake attitude, snobs and show offs which a little too much for my intellect hungry bong soul.
  3. I have been to Chennai and I liked it. Anyway I kind of respect southies because they take their life and studies seriously, at least that is what I think.
  4. LIBA has slightly better placement figures than LBS. Although LIBA does not publish its placement reports officially but the conclusion has been reached by googled sources.
  5. I have been a part of Facebook group of LBS and the members over there seemed childish. LIBA converts group is way classier but less informative and less active.
  6. LIBA has hostel while LBS has no hostel which is a big problem in the issues of peer learning and will increase the financial toll.
  7. Left IFMR for ROI.
  8. I did my 12th from Loyola High School, Patna, so kind of biased with the brand name.

I don’t need more reason to choose LIBA. And it is futile if u try to convince me to choose Delhi over Chennai. Husein and Devam tried and failed.

Now since I am moving down south I will truly miss Kolkata. Although I have previously blabbered about my own city and my love for her here, but I have never mentioned any person in my life.

I will my office colleagues for sure. Frankly speaking I hate my office. Cheap politics, workaholics, timids and pets are in abundance in my office. I was lucky enough to find a group which actually made my office days tolerable. We always gawked at girls, drank for merriment, made all kind of witty and non-veg jokes and shared our frustration. Even the girls in our group did that. Yes, take it losers, they drank with me and gawked at girls too. 😀 LOL. I will not name my office guys because I may miss some but believe me they were ossum.

I will miss my SomePlaceElse group. I will miss the small adda we used to have after regular office hours. I will miss Podu, Medi, Titir, Pal and Topper. Although the group will be scattered now as everybody is moving out in different directions but the legendary moments we spent are unforgettable. I will also miss Polard Da, my weekend partner in crime :P.

I will miss my granny and granpa with whom I used to stay. I will miss their excessive attention care which I used to hate.

I will miss my company because although it did not fulfil my expectations and really pissed me off, but now I will not be able to carry its tag name. The tag has respect in India being one of the largest business houses.

Anyway I will miss Kolkata, but I am pretty eager to embrace Chennai. Determined to learn Tamil, I am ready feel the heat.

Till then, wish you all a pathetic loser life. See you all on the other side of the commercial.

Bbye

Sinbycosmoy

Oh my fucking Gawd, I almost forgot to make an announcement. I am going to start a new blog, two actually. I know what you all jealous people will say :

‘How much more pathetic you can be. First you tormented us with your random posts on Baked Stale. We love Baked Stale just not you. Now when we are getting bored of your crappy writing you will make us read more of your shit which we seriously don’t want. Please have pity and stop writing.’

And I will answer : ‘Yes you loser readers I will not listen to your requests and will continue to torture you with my grammar less posts filled with typos which I don’t even care to rectify.’

The first blog will be about my Life in LIBA.

Aah so predictable. Trying to impress people eh? To impress one need some substance which you don’t have. Get a life.

The second will be based on management studies specifically Finance.

Gawd save this country. A person who has no financial sense whatsoever and is pretty neck deep down in loans from friends by the end of first week will preach finance. One should always implement SOPA to ban these kind of people from social media and internet.

Whatever you people say, I have decided I am gonna do it. Framework is under construction. You all will be updated soon.

Happy Reading.

PG LIBA Converts Thread

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Dilli ka Ladoo

Writing this post from 37000 ft over sea level, somewhere over Dilli and the air hostesses are not that good 😦 .
Yes I am returning from Delhi after a short trip for some personal work. No no, its not that personal that I can’t share with you all people but some things are better kept secret. I will spill the beans as soon as everything goes well (actually I am pretty orthodox and superstitious about the good things that may happen in my life, so till then zipped). Then why the hell I am writing this post? I am writing this post to give you all a glimpse of Dilli through my eyes and my perception as a first time visitor of the national capital.
First thing first, I was just blown away by Delhi Metro. Hailing from a city, Kolkata, which boasts to have the first underground metro in the country and where metro is just another part of Bengali life, I was really impressed by the ‘Dilli-way’ of putting it. All AC rails run real fast and their frequency is really commendable. The area they cover and the infrastructure they have utilised to handle the not only Delhi crowd but from all over the NCR region. Well NCR (National Capital Region) actually consists of Faridabad, Noida, Ghaziabad and Gurgaon. As it was a very short trip I did not get ample time to exhaustively ‘test run’ other modes of transport available (apart from the autowallahs which as usual as it can be). I also used the Reliance Airport Expressway and it was also very good (with free WiFi and faster ride).
I actually roamed in outskirts of Delhi and was not able to test/taste the real Dilli. Delhi is a fast city unlike Kolkata (with its lazy glamour and dreamy touch). It is meant for smart and conscious people. People in Delhi are real conscious, be it about their figure, looks or about what they speak. I stayed in Vaishali which is Ghaziabad area and travelled all the way to Dwarka. The metro rides are long (in Kolkata it is short or rather bursty) and interesting. The first time I boarded on the metro (was actually was forced to board due to the immense pressure of the crowd pressing behind me), I saw two people complaining that their wallets have been stolen. One guy was not at all shocked. He mentioned it casually to his fellow passengers that while boarding the metro somebody stole it (as if it can happen to anybody in an AC metro). The other guy was astonished that how somebody can steal his wallet when he has kept it in his front pocket of his jeans. But later very easily he gave in to the fact that in Delhi Metro pick pocket is a way of life. So I took my wallet from my back pocket (the worst place to keep your wallet in Delhi metro especially in crowded places) and kept it in my hand (safest according to me). And in Delhi I saw a lot of girls. To be exact ‘a lot’, but later to that story.
If you consider the cost of living, staying or roaming in Delhi then it is pretty costly. Well I do admit that coming from Kolkata, the cheapest metro city (where metro tickets cost only Rs. 4,6,8), any other city will always seem costly to me. I stayed in a region which comes under NCR and that place the whole time I was there I experienced a power cut of continuous 7 hours. Now I do admit that it is outskirts of Delhi and comparing it with Kolkata (we have rare power cuts) is not fair but continuous 7 hours is too much for me. The roads are good and the high rising building really looked modern and beautiful.
Now talking about beauty I have to and have to talk about ‘Dilli-ki-kudiyan’. Delhi girls are sexy. Period. Not that they are tremendously good looking, but they are well maintained and do care about themselves a lot. Most of the girls come out on the street so crisply dressed that you can’t help yourself noticing them. It is like having a glimpse or two of the smartly dressed airhostess with average looks. It is evident that each and every girl (and even boys) do take a good care of themselves and really value how they ‘look’. Portrayal of ‘you’ is specifically concentrated on you external appearance.  BTW I just crossed the city Varanasi (35k ft or approx. 10.7 KM above sea level).  I admit (shamelessly) that even the married ones are so well groomed and have taken care of themselves so well that it made my jaws drop. If I do compare girls from Delhi with the girls of Kolkata then I must say that Kolkata girls have beauty but don’t know how to take care of it and definitely don’t know marketing and Delhi girls may have lesser substance (or should say differently beautiful) but they do know marketing and do have a dressing sense.
But I got to know that although Delhi may seem very modern in its appearance, the NCR region is plagued by crime. Shooting a person is just a matter of fact. The people in Delhi have no driving/traffic sense. People laugh at those who stop at traffic red signal. There is a news of rape almost every day in NCR region and eve teasing is so normal that I happened to see it thrice on a single day (and was not able to anything about it). My friend from Delhi once told me-People in Delhi don’t fear anybody because they have come to Delhi just to earn money and nothing else. Sorry Delhi, I was unable to feel the warmth, may be because I stayed for a very short time, but I didn’t expect such classy deeds from seemingly classy people.
One thing I really liked in Delhi are the road side food stalls which really entertained my taste buds. Northern Indian foods are heaven there. Tunday-Kebab and Paratha was ossum. My palate had a wholesome treat with the delicacies offered by Delhi. I didn’t taste Biryani or sweets of Delhi as their review from my friends were not good. That’s it.
My flight is about to land. Indigo always makes me reach destination before time. Just one problem, these airhostesses have put a strong fruity deo on them. It is yucky.

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Confusion and Red Rose

Aah a day to celebrate love. Cliched. I would rather masturbate and go to sleep.

V day has never been a day of importance to me. It has always been a day of confusion. I still remember that day when I took the ‘Red’ rose, stealing it from my dad’s garden, with me in my school bag and brought it back on my way back home. I am still confused as why I took the flower to school. Is it because I was hoping for a girl who would come up to me and say, “Hey, can I have your flower? You can take my candy instead.” Or was I apprehensive of the fact that people will laugh at me if I don’t take a flower to school on the Vday. I was in class five then.

I got my first kiss on V day. I remember it because it was my first kiss. I realised it later that I celebrated love. It was fast, sensuous and moist. And confusing because it was new.

This year people asked (I apologise for their stupidity), what am I doing on the ‘day’. I gave them a completely stupid and confused look (exhibiting honestly the feeling inside me) and said, “I donno.” I lied. I do know what I will do tomorrow. I will wake up. I will brush and shit (I wish tomorrow it is heart-shaped). I will go to office and (try to) solve bugs. Then I will fall in love with every next girl I will see in office. Then I will return home and eat and sleep. The funny thing is, many of us who are very close to real life will have more or less the same day as mine.

Don’t do that.

Love instead.

Love yourself, your vicinity.

Love air and love aroma.

Not only tomorrow but everyday.

Do something before you file a missing report of your balls.

I celebrated Vday by writing a small post (tomorrow office).

What are you waiting for?

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That’s Why

Why? Why?

Let me tell you a small story.

This is the story of boy. And the boy is in Kolkata. Kolkata International Book Fair was in the city. He loved to read. He loved to smell. Smell the books.

So he went to the Book Fair. He bought few and smelled few. And he indulged himself in some gastronomic pleasure. It is traditional in Kolkata to munch something while you shop. And he did the same. While returning from ‘Milan Mela’ ground, he and his friends decided to hop into Arsalan for some ‘Biriyani’. Arsalan was full, so they headed to Aliah near ‘Dhormotolla’ and had ‘Biriyani’ and ‘Kebabs’ and ‘Phirni’. He loved calling himself a foodie and was proud of his taste buds. While returning home he took a bus. And the realisation happened there.

The bus was moving at a very slow pace, very typical to the average speed of Kolkata city buses, that too on a holiday. He got himself a window seat, rested his tired but happy body, and started enjoying the ride. He started watching the scenery outside. He felt as if the the city is trying to share her joy and warmth with him by rubbing her nose with his. He rubbed back and smiled. While moving his head slightly out of the window and enjoying the cool breeze, he thought he looked like a dog who is enjoying his flowing hair, to people on the roads.

As soon as the bus stopped near Rabindra Sadan, a bunch of people got into the bus, and his tranquillity was broken by the sudden hustle inside the bus. The conductor of the bus, in a very harsh voice asked everyone to move towards the end of the bus and make space for other passengers.

He was sitting in the front seat and the space in front of him got occupied by a group which he considered to be a part of the lower strata of society. He tried not to look at them as it would hamper his dreamy world, he thought, but a kid from the group, due to the crowd in the bus, was forced to sit in his lap. Her mother looked at him and smiled. He noticed that the group was big. There were 6 kids, a man and a woman, probably the parents, most of them wearing torn but clean clothes. The smallest one was in the lap of his mother, who was struggling to gain balance in the suffocating crowd of the moving bus. Then the next, around 4-5 years old, got hold of the window and was enjoying the scenery outside with his elder sister, the one forced to sit in the lap. The father was instructing everyone to stick together, otherwise they may get lost. The mother was stopping her kids from keeping their body parts outside the bus. It seemed that this as their first day outside, at least for the mother and few of her kids. They looked happy and amazed.

He hated the scene. He hated the way the kids were enjoying the scenery outside. He thought the window and the scenery as seen from it, belongs to him, and cannot be shared with those lower status kids. They talked, laughed and giggled in ‘bhojpuri’. When the conductor asked for ticket from them, the father said that they don’t have money. The conductor mumbled a few expletives to them and said, ‘Why do you people get on the bus when you don’t have money. Why do you come to Kolkata?’

He got amazed when the expletives uttered by the conductor did not steal the happiness from their faces, and when the conductor did not force them to get down from the bus. There was a boy around 14 years old with them. He seemed to be the eldest one and posed as ‘know-it-all’ in front of his other siblings. He explained the brands of cars moving on the road and warned everybody to keep their heads inside the bus. As soon as the bus passed the ‘Victoria memorial’, there was a sudden wave of excitement on the kids’ face. The y all looked at the memorial which was well lit at that moment of time with the moon just visible in the sky. The kid who got hold to the window pane, pulled the fringe of his mother’s sari with his small hands and said, ‘Ma, Look Victoria.’ And the mother who was busy balancing the baby and saving her other kids, leant a bit, and started looking at the ‘Victoria memorial’ with joy, amusement, astonishment and pain in her face.

And, at that specific moment felt ashamed. He realised that the window and the city Kolkata did not belong to him. It is to be shared and enjoyed. He felt that all mothers are same. Same as the city. They are busy protecting their kids and at the same time want to feel the happiness on their kids face. They feel secure with their husbands and are mesmerised by bright lights and monumental structures. The mother bent further and started enjoying the view outside with her kids. The girl sitting in his lap, for a moment, tried to push her hands outside the window and feel the air. He took her hand and forced it inside and said, ‘Don’t do that, it is dangerous’, with an authority like a big brother. He was happy again.

And that’s exactly why.

That’s why I love Kolkata. I love the smell in the air, the warmth in the sunlight. I love the Rabindra Sangeet that is played at the traffic signals. I know people will get pissed at the music during summers in a crowded bus stuck in traffic jam, but they will nevertheless love it. I love the metro trains, the underground subway, park street rolls, biriyani. I love underground, Someplace Else. I love City Center, South city. I love Durga pujo and Saraswati Pujo. I love Yellow taxi and green autos. I love shuttles and ‘dada ektu adjust korun na’. I love the way this city accepts. The way it has place for every person. It takes care of everyone. People from different city, state, country are happy here. I love Academy and Nandan. I love Oh! Calcutta and New market and Shree Ram Arcade. I love the crowd of Goriahat and silence of Rajarhat Highway. I love Metro, Jaya, Adlabs and Inox. I love radio Mirchi, miniskirts and ‘lal-paar-sada-saari’. I love when on a weekend some Bengalis are taking part in Kolkata marathon while some are spending it as a weekend trip at Mondarmoni, while some are reading ‘Anadabazaar Patrika’ with a cup of tea and ‘maarie’ biscuit enjoying the first rays of sunlight. I love St. Paul’s Cathedral, the morning walk in Victoria Memorial Park. I love the KC Paul as well as KC Dass. I love Haldiram’s and I love the parks filled with couples exhibiting love in parking places. I love the ITC House, Chatterjee International and S.D.F. I love Dalhousie and Sector 5.  I love Burrabazaar and Saltlake. I love park Circus and College Street. I love Esplanade, Chandni, Chang Wah and Tolly Club. I love BBD Bag and Ultadanga. I love EM Bypass and Khanna Haat. I love Tollywood and fish.

I love hope.

I love Kolkata

~dedicted to 14th February – the day to celebrate love.

P.S. The spellings of the places are not to be used in spell bee. They are intentionally used to keep the feel of the place intact and has been tried to bring close to the colloquial language.

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Letter

To You,

I have drunk a lot

But I will not cry.

Ridiculous?

I am sad.

I’m drunk.

I don’t usually get sad (even if I get dunk).

At least when I get drunk.

So, lets say I have drunk more than avg.

I miss you. I really miss you,’

I don’t have you.

I don’t have to be you.

I want a girl who knows me as well as you.

As if I can share my life with me.

But I really miss you.

I will never call you.

But I will feel the void.

I want you back but not in a normal way.

You know you were who mattered in my life. That’s pathetic. Even if I had cared for you at any point of my life, just dream and be a stone.

 

It is funny that every time I write I try to create a controversy. Is it true or just an exaggeration? I wrote the above paragraph when I was high. Now back to the present.

It is a bit strange that after so many days you called and asked me a question which I expected (not prayed). I prayed that you will ask me, “Are you happy?”. But I know You. You will never answer my prayer. But You answered my expectations. I expected you to ask me something which I will never expect. Something which has nothing to do with me being a being who is trying to survive (and so is everyone). A question which is trivial enough to be asked when you are non-trivial to be answered. So you asked it. “Can you leave cigarette?”

And ironically I answered. I answered in a way which is comforting to me more than it is to you. You know, truth gives hope. I used to think that if I speak my heart to someone, then that person will give heart for me. Not anymore. Now I pretend. You have gifted me a permanent fear of trust. Thank You. Thank You for this lovely feeling of ‘being uncomfortable’ throughout life. If I feel uncomfortable that means I am still breathing. Miracle.

So I answered and answer didn’t give hope. Not to you neither to me. So I avoided the risk of hopes being shattered. Although I am very used to this ‘hopes shattered’ kind of thing from my childhood (may be the reason for my introvert-ness), I still avoid it.

Take Care

And Keep laughing

And continue to make this world (not mine) a happy place to live in.

Me.

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