Author Archives: Mystic Ranger

I am what I love – II

All the best things are made of what I love. This is prob­a­bly the deep and valu­able rela­tion I couldn’t quite pin­point while I was writ­ing the last part. And unfor­tu­an­tely it hasn’t yet spurred me to act upon things even in the stark lack of resources or spirit to. That is prob­a­bly because I think

Goodbye JEE

I might be one of the only (bas­tardly) peo­ple who has almost not sor­row that the JEE is being dis­banded. I jus­tify my non­cha­lance and hatred towards the JEE by these two closely related …things, of my life, in which, I failed at the JEE despite hav­ing wasted quite a lot of time, and los­ing

I am what I love

Or at least a sig­nif­i­cantly inte­gral part of me. We had a sketch­ing com­pe­ti­tion with com­pul­sory par­tic­i­pa­tion in our hos­tel recently. Sketch­ing is obvi­ously a free­hand thing and I (rather obvi­ously) suck at it. But the guy in front of me had a scale, and I had a com­pass. And I saw Rajat start using

Valentine’s Day

This Valentine’s Day’s theme it seems, was peo­ple going against other peo­ple for hav­ing hated Valentine’s Day, and per­pet­u­at­ing the obvi­ous and point­less claim of pro­nounc­ing how this was a con­sumerist “Hall­mark Hol­i­day”. I per­son­ally never blamed Valentine’s Day for this, any more than I blamed Mother’s or Father’s Day. And I like to think

He told Me

The yel­low dimmed. The stars were white and the back­ground was black– pure black. They were rac­ing towards me at a great speed. They were in count­less num­bers. The wind blew faster. The stars were approach­ing at a great speed. Their light was blind­ing. I wanted to run away. But… but I wasn’t able to. The

Old stuff to be put up on shelves here

I wrote lots of stuff last year. But didn’t get around to post­ing any of it. For a vari­ety of rea­sons. I’ll be post­ing all of that now, either in clumps or spo­rad­i­cally. Inter­spersed with my new writ­ings if there hap­pen to be any. The old ones will be marked with their orig­i­nal date of

I never asked to be normal

All those super­heroes who have great­ness thrust upon them? And feel half-uncomfortable-half-this-is-so-cool at the first moment, and the later-with-great-power-comes-great-responsibility shit­head­ed­ness that hap­pens with them? They never asked to be who they became. “Be not afraid of great­ness; some are born great, some achieve great­ness, and oth­ers have great­ness thrust upon them.” – William Shake­speare I

I am my own coolness

I thought I was the only guy cool enough to think that this place wasn’t cool enough. Every­body, I’m sur­prised to find (well, quite a large num­ber, in any case) has the same prob­lem. That the other peo­ple are weirdly lame, hope­less and/or don’t do any work. So they’re all say­ing the same thing about each

Steve Jobs

I really didn’t think I’d write any­thing on this mat­ter. Every­body else (as is usual) had writ­ten a lot any­ways. Many of them are even remark­ably nice. Another rea­son why I didn’t want to even, say any­thing, was because I wasn’t shocked. Every­body was shocked. I was prob­a­bly sad when I got to know of

Got Mac

Got a 13′ Mac­book Pro. 12.6.11, Cool-ish date . From this point onward, this post could be a 100 pages long with some fan­boy bull­shit or it could end right here. — Copied from Abi Cause it couldn’t be truer.