I'm telling you, I need to start a new blog that I maintain about my telescope and my observations.

I suck at not being a procrastinator.

Darkness' Queen

Slowly She prowls towards me.
Begging, weak- I am.
In a moment I am hers.


I suck at poetry. Haiku especially.

150 years of saying AMDG

How it went past me, I could never understand. A few laughs initially; the usual slanging-left-and-right and the entire riot of jeering when this rather [in]famous teacher walks by with his [very pretty] [hopefully not] fiance {who is waaaay out of his league}, wearing green tinted glasses, it takes you back to your days. And there, it was gone by me as I laughed and jeered with my juniors, laughing at RS' expense - who would never know!

However, truth to be said, I was never a Xavier's fan; my school days being marred by conflict both external and internal. That said, with most elements of conflict practically gone, in retrospect I start liking the thought of dear old SXCS.
Catching up on the conversations with old friends, meeting dear old teachers, and of course Introductions {with Conclusions}, and Non-Introductions ... with better Conclusions.

Teachers, especially were quite the small-talkers, RB taking the prize as a very good remembrance-collector, watching over the entire flock like the hawk that she is, while SSi, looking as herself as ever spoke in her characteristic mellow.

And people - all wily; and booze - all costly. Too much to bear, I set out with a dear friend- off to lose myself to Park Street, and its blinds.


Oxford teaches us fonts, as we patiently talk while turning pages of Calligraphy, clarity pushing our brains after vodka, chocolate, and a submarine.


And as we waited for the end of the day, the lights dimmed and shadows fell, wreathing the day in the beauty of it all.

Happy 150, Xavier's. Cheers.

What happens when you put together four friends, 3.5 hours of nothing-to-do-ness, a college with no means of entertainment (except the obvious!) and the placement of such an institute in the middle of a road full of villages?

A walk! Oh yes. We, (SSh, JR, SC and I) all decided to go walking... to nowhere. Green, gleaming meadows with the peace and noise attached with the settlements and villages.
Cattle eating the grass that grew at the edge of a steep ridge; men walking and cycling to their farms; wives walking their girls to school.



The plethora of visual information, assisted by the unnatural quiet found at ten AM in these places suggested a different world.




While my friends pointed at the various sights, I was lost in the colour of this world - my world.

I just needed a little more greenery, didn't I?

So does Fealdamar.

The first post of the new year.

Happy New Year, Fealdamarians.


Of course, it's late. Your absent ruler has been busy with gaming and loving. It's been a while, but days like today force you to look out the window and tell you that you need to write. Write a long and lengthy and long story about a maiden whose beauty is enshrined to you, and no one else. For all I care, I can only explain it in terms of a long gaming bout. Or, for that matter a long telephone call.

New years was celebrated back in Durgapur. Nightclub dancers and drink. I did not get to experience either. (The dancers were hags in skimpy clothes.) Not that it matters much.
In a sense, yesterday was new years. Out by Pam's (whose waitress[es] hate me) with a girl, I think last evening was spent well, not to talk about the afternoon.
And the entire first week will be spent well, I am hoping. Durgapur was amazing. Now, college should be the diametric opposite.

For now, I will be concealed by the precious angel-lore of winter nights. Wanderlust and soul-songs will be forthcoming. Don't worry.

{The reference here is Tristania}