Sudipta's Life

I have been tagged, by Suyog . It is called the Weird tag, and I am supposed to write 5 weird things about myself. I wonder, "How many normal things do I do?". But well, nevertheless, I must dish out these details, without going into those areas of my personal life which would make you projectile vomit. Yeah, only the mediumly weird things will be said, and the hardcore stuff will be omitted ;) . They are available on request via email, and at my discretion. So, to begin with, you must never have noticed that my first name is an anagram of 'A STUPID'. :) So, even though Tom Marvolo Riddle becomes Lord Voldemort, I am stuck with this one... such are the ironies of nature. If you analyse the striking similarity further, see that Tom grew up to become He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. So, ... umm... I think I should stop here. God bless my friends who never discovered this one! I would have had a whale of a time if one of my friends had any such interesting anagrams ;) Next, I e

Introspective post alert: don't blame me after you've finished reading this. When I was in the final days of my first year at college, a final year senior gave to me what was his slam book. I had never seen one before, and duly filled in every section until I came to the section that said, "Write what you think about me". This was kind-of bizzare... and I turned to the other pages of the slam book to see what others had written. As I expected, there were messages like 'I will always remember you as the cheerful person', 'You will shine wherever you go', and stuff like that. I would have rather chosen to remain neutral, but I settled for good wishes for your future, etc. Things did not change much after I went into more senior years, because I knew more and more people then. People who I had hardly interacted with came with or passed their slambooks to me (and everyone else), and you had to fill in all the details all over again. And the worst part inva

... like a woman scorned. To be precise, like a girl who has just been told why she is not good wife-y material. Let me explain: I was having this chat conversation about a couple of days ago with a girl. Ok, once you are done with your smirk, raised eyebrows and cheeky smiles, read ahead. The conversation drifted to her life and why arranged marriages spoilt the charm that love marriages seem to have. Arranged marriages, it seemed to her, were just like going to a market and buying vegetables --- the romantic magic disappeared. She was unhappy that she had still not been swept off her feet permanently [read that line again, 'permanently'] . So, after some time, she asked me, "Why do you think I may not be good 'wifey' material for you ?". The conversation went as follows: Her: Why do you think I may not be good 'wifey' material for you? Me: I haven't actually given it a thought Her: Don't tell me! Anyway, think and tell me now Me: I haven'