Back to old ways in Wimwi-pur

Wimwi-pur is awash with the cries of phoren-return junta. Their eyes are still gung-ho with the memories of the beauty [and beauties] of Europe. I took a walk along the brick laden campus and the feeling of having arrived really arrived. I mean, I expected to feel wonderment at why I had landed in a brick factory. Instead, I felt as if I had never gone anywhere. Only the faces seemed new.

But I can't really call these ways old. They are so new, its almost like a dream. Sapnon ka mahal. Khayali Pulao? That last word brings back such vibrant memories of the frantic activities that used to take place at dinner time in Tauschie Dorm. Onion getting sliced to pieces, old dishes being cleaned, new recipes being mulled over. . .

And I return to the old question I once mulled over. Yes, people do get incredibly lucky at times. Like the time when I got sick and the doctors said, "Ise dawa ki nahi, dua ki zarurat hai". Or when I almost sank into a water tank like a polythene bag full of wet mud but was rescued just-in-time.
People do get lucky at times.
People now ask me if some developments have taken place. Oh come on, we live in a developing country. What do you expect?

On other developments, Ghalibiano has developed a soft corner [or rather, a 3 bhk chumree] for a certain French girl, widely known in WHU for her oui sounds and uiimaa! looks.

Strato's bheja is turning out to be tastier than the mess food here. And I am no less than hooked. While her threats to ban remind me of a certain Mr Khomeini, I have a demonstrated capability of lift and throw. Now, that is deadly. So deadly, its wise for people to buy medical insurance policies by the dozens.

What is real, and what is true,
until it gets all over you?
Ah this feeling, so divine,
never thought she would be mine!