Category: Attempted Humor

The forgotten art of getting lost into

Somewhere along the mundane morbidity of this life, I have lost being able to lose myself into something. That scares me to my wit’s end.

A phase where it is impossible to concentrate on one single thing and be able to do it. Guess it all boils down to the Perils of a PhD. I just cannot help, but relate my PhD process to a beautiful line of a Tamizh song

“நான் தூக்கி வளர்த்த துயரம் நீ” “naan thookki vaLartha thuyaram nee!”

It literally translates to something like that of “You are a sorrow that I raised.”  (willingly and lovingly, [my emphasis])

At times, I can only laugh at the irony of its aptness. Given all that! With twenty five days to go, Chapters to write and Drafts to be done, Corrections, Bibliography check, footnotes and citations and corrections pending. ALL and the least and the most I need to do now, is take care of my ownself, stop panicking every now and then, take few deep breaths at every possible intervals and be on the maniac, militant and drunk writing mode. Good luck to my own self. This is the last phase of PhD and it matters more than anything now. From March 2011 to December 2017, with a break of five years in teaching, I need to be strong and pass through the final passage of rite to complete this ritual and Ordeal called PhD. Go BeeNat,  Go. Keep writing 🙂




My Domestic-Existential Blues


              Life… sigh.. Became unstoppably an un-happening affair. My one and a half year stint of life in Shillong, the Scotland of East did let me learn and unlearn a lot of things. The idle town/city, where I spent a considerable portion of the nights in my life awake and half asleep, woken up to an earthquake, wade my way through its charm and closeted streets; yet it stops me often to raise an important existential question. What am I doing? Here? Off late, certain, at times an inevitable complacency creeps into me. I untangle myself and let it go and I go on.

             A crisp cold evening; the winter is aloud on air; when you feel the wind biting into your skin unaware. As I stroll on the streets of my neighbourhood, I can’t escape feeling this feeling of discomfort. If I were to borrow a certain  Bollywood description for the beefed up security measures on the context of President’s visit and called this scene as Kashmir-a/like. Mind me, I am righteously wrong here. I also prefer to shy away from such-any filmic description, as it would give away my misinformed nationalistic view of things.

            Yet another successful bandh, following a series of bandhs, office picketing, and road blockades. Nothing works as perfect as Fear in this small town. All I am worried about now is the missing Red-Carpet or maybe I did manage to miss, it being laid out somewhere for the Honourable-His Excellency. I should make a mental note to check the Secretariat, Raj Bhavan, CM’s residence and the university. It would be a gross Grecian disgrace to miss out on such an important colonial/comical custom. I looked for it in the streets as well.

           The streets looked deserted, rather deserted by people, who preferred to huddle up inside their houses for an evening. Scattered sparsely on either sides of the road were few men and boys who went about their business. A few kongs and chai wallahs were busy in their evening order of things. The Haphazardly parked police and security vehicles seemed to make up for the empty canvas of an evening in a Shillong street.

           The charm of the place has definitely taken a day off on Mukherjee’s maiden visit to Meghalaya.

           Come whatever! I am out to enjoy a cup of tea in this cold weather. Balancing the plastic cup in one hand, I manage to get hold of my mobile from my pocket to read a text. “It is not Meghalaya, it is bandhalaya.” Makes sense in one way.

 addthis_pub = ‘barathwillbe’;

What’s my problem, dude!!!

I’ve been this way. My mind feels as if it has been through a roller coaster-ride. I don’t know why, I keep getting all this weird feelings. May be mixed feelings. I feel as if a big tragedy is going to befall me, am going to lose that-very-special-someone. Sometimes, I feel strangely-stupid. Being stupid is okay for a person like me, but this is strange. At times, I get so excited for nothing, other times, I feel very plain, just the usual aiyo-paavam-payan (poorly poor guy looks). sometimes I am very anxious, as anxious as a mother of a young girl who is on her first date.

May be work can do this to people, but why me? It is for people who work hard, I hardly work. For me, even the thought of work or just imagining to be working, tires my soul. And I need countless cups of coffee to get out of this depressing depression. What next? I became fatigue because of my compulsive consumption of coffee. When I’m about to work, I try to warm up to do my best, but in the course, I get heated up and eventually worn out. The very idea of chilling out, freaks me out now.

Am I born with a default disorder which is designed to develop dispersions as I go on?

If at all I manage everything and finally sit to work. I get all innovative ideas on how to evade work. It just then will occur to my mind how I never keep my surrounding clean. When I get to my cleansing work, my mobile dutifully rings, any concerned friend will be available exactly then. I end up talking all the worldly affairs.

I feel all the guiltier after the call. I try to concentrate with all my will power to concentrate on one work. To test me, I often indulge in this very useful exercise. I sit on the floor in an asana position and try to focus my mind on nothing. I intensely command my self not to think about anything, but nothing. I suggest that I should do nothing for the next 30 minutes. I settle myself and spend a minute thinking how I should go about it and suddenly my alarm goes off. Cursing my forgetfulness, I get up to make sure that I shouldn’t be disturbed by anything. I visit every room to check all potential disturbance factors such as Television, radio, mobile, alarm, music system are completely put out. By the time I return, there is a knock at the door. It must be my post-man. I return to my room with the recent issue of The Week. I flip through the pages to read my favorite column. Oh! then I remember my mission. I drop my magazine and resume my asana position. It is already 12.30 PM and I’ve got to meet my dentist at 2Pm. I again do the follow-up procedure and concentrate on nothing. I can hear the sound of the fan in the next room. No let it. Who cares? I should concentrate. I think about calling the clinic to check with them, but why worry, I have an appointment. I make a mental note to brush my teeth before I leave. I think I need to wear my other blue jean and the red tee. Should I take some cash from the ATM? Did I get the card back from mom? I should concentrate now on doing nothing. And the telephone rings. I forgot to completely put out this potential disturbance factor. I get up half-heartedly, thinking how annoying these telephones are.

It was my dad, asking me if I’ve booked my ticket for the next week’s journey. I wonder why he should ask that now. I tell him that I will do that today and let him know. I hung up the phone wondering whether this trait of being futuristic run in our family genes. Anyways I should wash my black jean; it has been nearly two months. I think about doing something and enter the kitchen to have a cup of chai and to go about the day.

Actually this is what happens to people like me, who plan to overwork, but end up doing nothing. My only problem is that I over-plan, take too much in my plate than I can afford to eat. I should rather prioritize my priorities first. But before that, more importantly I should learn to talk less. I know that I talk more, more enough to actually annoy anyone who never gets easily annoyed. Vinu calls me, “a potential threat to anyone who wants to work, even anyone who works in my vicinity will be affected by my strong aura with an unassuming ability to actually annoy people.” Cool. I remember how he was always patient with me till one day- When he literally slapped me just because he couldn’t stand my bugging him the whole day. Poor Vinu! How bad he would have felt! It really hurts me. But honestly I know inside, that it was less for what I did then. Yes I really love to talk more, annoy and bug people. Big Deal? See, I actually don’t know what my problem is- Whether my ability to annoy people, theatrical talent to talk more or multi-tasking (rather multiple planning) and special God-Given-Gift to do nothing and arriving at artistic ways of annoying people. It is not because I’m bored that I talk, annoy or bug, it’s because I love and I love to do these.

Have been this way since I’ve been this way. I know it is quite difficult for people to put up with me. Even I’ve felt that too and tried running away from me. But honestly, I just couldn’t come to think about my self abandonment. I get all this and once in a while I suddenly retreat to silence for the greater good. As how Anu akka calls it, “Hibernation” Scientifically speaking a bear needs around 20,000 calories of energy before it goes to hibernation and she tells me that “I would’ve spent the same amount of calories talking before I proceed to hibernate.”

Whatever it is! It is my problem and it is not my problem, but there is a magic in all this. I connect to people; get to know people when I actually talk with them and more than anything when I listen to people. I learn to listen more. Listening is the high art of loving. And when people get ready to share, it is these three magical words that amplify the power of love: Tell Me More.

And may be I talk more and more because I know that I (We) don’t speak enough.


The Blessed Sleep. The Blessed, sleep!!!

Wish you a very Happy and a prosperous new year 2009

I knew that today should be a celebrated day in my life as I managed to get up as early as ten ‘o’ clock in the morning. I knew that I can still make it to my work, though I’m expected to report by 10. I never knew that I can be punctual. At last my three months of time management classes bore the fruits of hard work. See my only problem is that it dawns to me very early. When I tell early, it is very early. As early as ten in the morning. Honestly I don’t have any problems with getting up early. Whenever I tell this, people often tend to confuse with the two. You can’t blame a person for early dawns as also you cannot for getting up early (unlike the rest of the world).

Psychologists love to call this set of people who get up early as Early birds/Hawkers and the other set of people (for whom it dawns early) but who are supposed to get up late as owl/mongers. They advise not to worry about this as if I’d been worrying all my twenty two years. These people should understand that getting up early is a mere habit cultivated, but early dawning(As for people who get up late) is an art, a way of life. 

Sleeping is a blessing. 

I wholeheartedly hate/abhor/detest with whole of my heart a person who complains sleeping, just count your blessing, definitely not the hours. I don’t understand why people should be looked down for early dawns and why all goodness such as sound health and sound mind is attributed to people who can’t stay in bed after 3 am and get sound sleep. 

I pity them.

There are times when I felt bad for getting up late (speaking genuinely); for I knew that the rest of the world would love to call early dawning as getting up late. Nothing in life is as worth as making others happy. So henceforth I call early dawning as getting up late. 

I consulted a psychologist. He was calm, compassionate and listened to me with utmost patience as he started to see me as his patient. He gently reassured me that I need to practice getting up early. He suggested me Auto-suggestion, i.e. intense commanding of the self to get up early. I never knew that it could be easy. But disastrously easy. It is the regular tuning of the biological clock, but I understood that to me what matters most is the fine tuning of my alarm clock. First day before I slept, I auto-suggested and kept repeating, “I will wake up at five ‘o’ clock” and fell asleep to wake up at eight o clock. I wondered how well it worked for me. But one must wonder that eight ‘o’ clock is not five ‘o’clock. I never cared much about numbers as long as they stayed happily inside the clock just to view and not to follow. My second day was not bad, but the third day had the most intense results, though it scared my mother more. Astonishingly I woke up at 3 to find my mother standing near me. I was wondering how my auto-suggestion helped her. She told me that I kept repeating, “I will wake up at five ‘o’ clock” all through the night.

Again I met my Psychologist who again reassured me this time that it cannot be achieved over-night and only constant-persistent-efforts will help me. I took up a group therapy session (where birds of same feathers flock together) for few days. Oh I forgot to tell you that I come from a nation where the utmost form of self-disgrace is to speak openly about one’s appointment with a psychologist. So I took a half day leave for a migraine attack (which never happened hitherto). For my second session I took three days off in the Holy name of migraine attack. My colleagues were more surprised that I had only three days of attack; while theirs mercifully lasted for a fortnight at one go. Days that followed were hell. I’m such a blessed person for I kept sleeping every five minutes during auto-suggestion. I kept my alarm tuned for every five minutes and nothing helped. I felt very depressed. Life became a disaster after meeting a psychologist. Now I understand why on earth, Migraines should exist. 

It was Emerson who rescued me; “Imitation is suicide.” Still I could remember how one fine day I got up at 3 am. I drank some water and sat in my bedside window. Windows do have a magical way of evoking the muse. Torn between the two choices I reluctantly sat with a paper, when my bed was all the more inviting. My mind was overwhelmed with thoughts. I remembered Frost.

“I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

I sat with my paper and couldn’t write. I sat for three hours thinking about sleep and then slept on my thoughts. My day was bad. I felt traumatized. Never had I felt this way even when I got up at 12 in the noon. I could now understand that the trauma and pain of trying to be someone whom I was initially not and never will-be. It took a day’s work for me to understand this, yet the pain was immense, immeasurable, inexplicable and inevitable. I was the silent bearer of this grateful pain. Then I decided to file a suit against the person who inflicted this pain and trauma to me. It took me less than a minute to identify the cruel culprit. It was God, my own creator. If he had not created me this way, I wouldn’t have suffered. I don’t know if someone else had sued God for anything before. I consulted my lawyer,the second sin. He promised to take up this case. He called me later to inform that he never came across such strange law suits.

He consulted his other colleagues. Soon this was the talk among lawyers in the town, and then a conference was called in a national level to discuss this problem. I was also an invitee. Trust me; I never had such a peaceful occassion in my life like witnessing the lawyers in discussion. Now I can understand why ‘Margayya of Malgudi’, the financial expert considered lawyers as trouble-makers. I remember this becoming a huge issue of national importance. A bill was passed in the parliament allowing the public to sue God if necessary. 

After all these chaos in my life, I learnt that total acceptance is the need of the hour. I decided to be happy for what I am, even if it is all about getting up in the noon. I accepted it wholeheartedly. I wonder how life turns beautiful and peaceful when one learns total acceptance of people. Life taught me to be a happy individual, to give space to accept and accommodate people. Now I live happily to get up at twelve in the noon. 

As I watch through my windows, I saw my neighbor parking his car near my gate. All I could do now is to shout at him. I was just talking about the mental space and not certainly my parking space. Whenever I tell this, people often tend to confuse with the two.

And Thus It Goes Unnamed

Sitting by my bedside window, I couldn’t stop wondering where my fate took me. Rather should I say how I took refuge in my fate! I can easily recollect when I wrote last and what I. Seems ages ago to me, but I knew I never bid adieu to my musings. And yet scared inside, what if musings parted me forever. Even then I will be eternally grateful for being with me short while and making my life worthwhile.

I remember or rather strain myself to remember the uncertainty. I went through for the past few months. Life was good in those evenings. Perched in the porches with people in the blissful non-chalant ambience with books aside. The ease with which everything went, switching topics, heated arguments, threatening looks, daring to contradict and the never ending Chronic conversations. The transition therefore to follow was unknown then. Nothing remains the same and not everything changes.

I was away for a while. And today I am back, back to being myself. I could only wonder that it was this rain that rained today made me write. Was it a writer’s block that prevented me from pampering the paper? I remember writing in my mind every time when I talk with me as I walk. May be writing warrants a quiet contemplative pensive mood, rather than a talkative walk? May be I can consider sitting in an asana position with pen and paper aside meditating. Dissolving into the surroundings for better contemplation, so that I can wake up and write. Blessed will be the writers when they perform a ‘Puja’ to get their gift in return or still easier is to get a piece of Creative writing with a flick of wand by a non-verbal spell “Amusingness”.

It is the complete participation in life with a genuine interest and keen observation of things around us that evokes the magic of muse. It is the ability to view the subtle trivial beauties of life with an uncanny yet a healthier wonderment. One can easily find these attributes in R K Narayan’s works, one of the greatest writers ever of times. He had his own share of ups and downs in life and having made out of it helped him to prove his inherent nature/ability of being the best story-teller. Yet sometimes it can be a real threat to one’s ability to write, but the only panacea to it is to keep writing no matter what. Great Writers and famous authors always advise amateurs to keep writing to improve, but they tend to forget that writing continuously or continuous writing can turn life to a disaster. Amateurs, unlike me who take the words of such people, “their gurus” seriously, in the other way round, often fall a victim to continuous writing.

Continuous writing should be to give in enough efforts, try new kinds of writing, to attain perfection and not merely to enter Guinness records. There are times when I took continuous writing seriously and wrote pages and pages to stop suddenly to find my fountain pen running out of ink. I couldn’t continue for a simple yet a genuine reason for I couldn’t find an ink-bottle in vicinity; it must be certainly a good day for the papers, for I did hear mutterings of silent prayers for survival. If my guess is right, they ended their jubilant celebrations with an excellent feast.

There are times when my creativity overflowed, overwhelmed with thoughts for I couldn’t write a single line as I didn’t know what to write first. It was like as if all my thoughts in total threatened to desert me if I don’t give them first priority. Trust me. It was the most difficult moment in my life. I realized what a total dumb-bell I am when it comes to choice. I cried, wailed, howled till midnight like a banshee for an unknown, unreasonable reason. I knew that the moment which I feared the most in my life will come true. ‘The death of my writing’. I sat silently mourning for the rest of the night. As the dawn came, I prepared for the rest. Dressed in black, I got out of my house carrying my note-book like a child’s prized possession. On reaching my garden, I began digging a small grave to bury my ‘dead child’. I stood wistfully for hours together; till I realized that I lost something which I should not have. It was a deep peep into the past, reliving the nostalgia. Now I realize that my Reverence was so true that I could have easily composed the ‘World’s Best Elegy’, if I hadn’t buried my ‘Note-book’.

I sincerely regret.

People, especially great writers like me (if I become one) should understand that there are times in life when one cannot write, in spite of all sincere efforts. They should not feel bad or guilt about it; everything happens for a reason (preferably good if taken in the right sense). It cost me my first elegy (The world’s Best) to learn this lesson. For I’ve also learnt another lesson: “Nothing comes free.”

Great moments often catch us unaware, also great pieces are written unaware.

It was in one such moment, though as usual when all my the thoughts in total threatened to desert me if I don’t take one in particular, I came up with my Masterpiece!

Believe me!

I gave in my best efforts and chose none, for I knew all my thoughts are great and why disgrace one by choosing another. And my masterpiece was ready to be printed in the morning. I sent it to publisher (it’s not difficult to find one these days, for they are greatly listed in Yellow pages, it is as easy as getting a cab) who sent it back to me with an enclosed abusive note for wasting his time.

I felt terribly down. Emerson came to my rescue: “To be great is to be misunderstood”.I took the “Blank Paper’, my masterpiece and kept it safely in my diary. For now I knew the truth that I was born ahead of time and my audience is not yet born. I realized that the publisher’s have no literary knowledge or basic literary sense. Had they known Keats “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter” no publisher would have dared to let go a masterpiece unpublished. A great shame has befallen the literary world. My life of writing for the past one decade minus eight years has seen such many brutal acts of refusal.

It is Frost who keeps my writerly life alive by his quote “And Miles to go before I sleep”.

I realized that if there can be anything more threatening to a writer than Writer’s block, it is the immense difficult art of naming a piece of writing, for writing can be spontaneous, but naming is instantaneous. And here I confess to my unborn audience that it is the Baptist’s block that scares me more than a Writer’s block

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6 Don’ts when you’re out on your own.

It is essential to carry enough change when traveling, that too with the frequent use of corporation buses, but certainly not enough, enough to have a clanging sound accompanying you and making a good sight of a beggar in you. God! How it feels when people turn around to have a glimpse of the strange source of sound.

Avoid mobile, books, paper and at any cost, say no to peanuts when walking alongside the road. Trust me, this don’t go good on roads. No wonder not only Mahatma Gandhi realized the energy source of peanuts, even monkey(s) like me fell for them, exactly into a pit, eating it all the while, forgetting what comes on road.

Put up an air of decency (at least an artificial one) when you’re in a bookshop. Don’t enter a bookshop when it is about to close (to) drool at the sight of books, get lost in them and search exactly for books which they had run out of stock. Don’t call your-reader friend for suggestions, either you won’t buy anything/ buy till you give out the last penny. Don’t get lost amidst the pile of books and make the bookshop people raise the alarm, drag you by neck and have you thrown out.

It is good to get down four or five stops ahead and take a peaceful walk. Certainly this is not advisable when you badly want to pee and then keep thinking through out the trail whether the best thing is to wait till your place or wet your pant drop by drop.

When on road, that too with your old ruggedly worn-out good-for-everything jeans, it is better not to fish out your wallet and mobile often, I kept pushing my wallet back to the front pocket of my jean and unaware of accidentally pushing half my shirt into it. I felt a little tugging at my feet. When I looked down after a few steps, my jean-trouser was half way down my waist and I made quite a sight. I pulled it back just to hear my button snapping out to drown into the nearby drainage and commit suicide. Well It was heavenly comfortable to walk with my trouser held up high, a book bundle in the same hand, and a paper pack of peanuts in another.

It is good to be on your own and trust one’s instincts. To get lost and engage in the process of self-discovery, but you can refrain yourself from this disastrous entertainment in new places. Read the illustration to understand the concept.

Mr. BJ wanted to go to a bookshop. He took a bus from B bus-stop, got down at C bus stop to get to the bookshop. Took some directions from the passers by and with God’s grace ended up in one. While returning, he followed the land marks. It didn’t occur to the dumbstricken’s brain that in a city, there would be many outlets of the same bakery, Pizza house, Coffee shop, Ice cream parlor. Blindly following them for an hour, he stopped to realize that he had walked for an hour and more to no-where. He stopped to ask someone’s help to board a bus to get down at the B bus stop. The Samaritan-stranger suggested that a two minute-walk down the left lane leads to the bus stop.

The rest is just peace.

addthis_pub = ‘barathwillbe’;

My Experiments with Difference.

I just couldn’t wait for May 14th and even had put a countdown for that. Fine. That it is what I intended not to talk about now. I have been thinking too much (when I say too much, its really too much) especially after having recently met this interesting guy and unfortunately for him I still keep meeting him (and hey people who think it is you. Am sorry). And hey it is definitely not you now.
I wondered, even am wondering and no matter what happens, I’ll keep wondering how different I am from others. Have you ever thought about this? There are times when I stop doing/ working to start thinking about this. Many times I don’t get proper answers and eventually I get bored, So I resume back to my work.
Being busy, doing nothing gives me all the time on earth, to think, but how I wish the day has more than 24 hours (Yup Buddy just because you told me this, it doesn’t meant that I meant you, Just imagine how many souls will wish on the same line, just like you) It happens to everyone. There are times when I wished to shrink the day, Yes. Honey, I shrunk the day!I did a thorough case to case analysis with eight of my specimen-friends to check how I’m different from others. Here it goes
AIM: To prove how different I am from others.
MATERIALS USED: Eight specimens-Friends are randomly taken for experiment after a thorough study on them, NO names-dropping business. They are allotted each an initial (in some cases names) for experimental purpose, which will be kept confidential.
SPECIMENS: Ms.T a leo, Mr.M a libran, Ms.PrinT cease a sagittarian, Mr.Sin As An a leo, Mr.AAA (A^3) an arian, Ms.Anna Gates a leo, Ms.An Sri a scorpion, Mr.BMK a libran and Mr.Be En an aquarian, the main subject of study. It just randomly happened to be equal number of males and females. If you wish, greatness can be attributed to the author’s belief in You Know What equality.
DISCLAIMER: Claims in any form is thoroughly not discouraged. Any resemblance to the living character(s) is intentionally coincidental. And also NO means or methods of torture or infliction of pain for the sake of gaining knowledge or for greater good was exercised on the above mentioned specimen-friends. So I reassure that great care was taken on this ground and also I humbly welcome all activists of any sort( humans/living beings/animals) to stay away from this study for the lesser good.
PROCEDURE: It’s important to know that 8 specimen-friends randomly selected, after a careful study don’t know each other, in some cases they were not even aware of the other’s existence. However after the completion of experiment, the subjects can be introduced to each other and allowed to socialize for effective results. It is important to know at least 20 unique characteristic qualities of the main subject so as to compare with other specimen-friends.
1)An innocently confused look
2)A hard-core Potterian
3)Non Stop No-Non sense 24*7 (highly dangerous for others)
4)Tendency to be jobless to any extent of time
5)No sense of time
6)Hopeless Romantic (If you can get, what it means here)
7)Killer smile (some specimens prefer to call so)
8)An uncanny talent for cracking the poorest of poor jokes
9)High levels of stupidity (thoroughly Noncontagious)
10)A serious conviction of not to take anything seriously (God Help Him)
11)Inherent Nature/obsession to love anything that walks in four legs
12)Compulsive Identity Disorder (a serious mental order in which the person identifies/thinks of identifying with anything that he/She meets)
13)A Full Fledged Labelist.
14)An Avid people watcher
15)Died-Hard Nocturnal
16)Big time foodie
17)Tendency to suddenly retreat to silence ( A calm before a Storm)
18)One ideology to not to believe in any ideology
19)Highly contemplative and pen sieve in nature (In short A Visionary)
20)Deep rooted belief in being a No-body.
A quick review of the 8 specimen-friends to the main subject (hence forth referred as Be En) shows that.
Ms.T a leo and a recent acquainted friend, she herself being a soft-core potterian differs with Be En when it comes to 4 legged creatures who simply cannot love any other non-pearly dog. she speaks when necessary, never been a labelist, not much of a visionary and cannot simply stand up to be as same as Be En.
Ms.PrinT cease a sagittarian who doesn’t believe in romance, no wonder fell for the killer smile. They are simply a best example for the Physics Truest law, “Opposites Attract”. Otherwise Ms PrinT cease is a contradiction to Mr Be En in everything.
Mr.M, a libran being an independent thinker, quite sportive with high appreciation for music, also a balanced self-tist with an innocent looking face combined with a cute-kidoo smile doesn’t share anything considerable (except a common background) shows that they are different, especially Mr M, with little needed serious attitude doesn’t go with the hopeless romantic nature of Be En. This is the main difference between a libran and an aquarian.
Mr.Sin As An, again a leo, being a singer himself, a mentor big-bro image to Be En quite appreciates his abnormal junior for his abnormally normal qualities. Also once confessed that he cannot be abnormally normal. Other than sharing the Killer-smile and the uncanny talent. Mr Sin As An, also a scientist is highly different from Be En.
Mr.AAA (A^3), an arian was once an alien to Be En. He a relaxed looking guy with similar aspirations to remain nobody in life and also a foodie differs from Be En in matters of philosophy, outlook and romance. No wonder they can be friends. Mr A^3 being a practical person, stands afar in various aspects, and he who speaks very limitedly, that too, very normally has some reasonable love for 4-legged creatures. Mr AAA will definitely wish to be different.
Ms.Anna Gates, who like other leos in the study is quite appreciative of Be En, her junior, rakhi bro is also aware of his Youngest kid tactics. Ms Anna, a biological carrier of an infectious smile always wonders just like the author how Mr. Be En can be different from the rest of the crew.So Ms Anna, herself is a testimony to the differently-enabled-nature of Be En. It is interesting to note here, in the study how a distinct pattern emerges in the differences between Leos and Aquarian.
Ms.An Sri, a scorpion, was never deadly to our aquarian. In fact nobody can be as stupid as Be En to actually have thanked a girl who proposed him(well that’s another story). A musical and a colorful genius, quite a sport who can never be romantic appreciates Be En for his qualities. She, though being an hard-core potterian hated most of his stupidly profound philosophy, but this didn’t prevent her to be a foodie. She being an anti 4-legged creatures, just cannot imagine the thought of being with dogs, if there was a silent stupid nodding smile instead of a thank you(people, got the story now).
Mr.BMK (sounds like a political party name), second libran, who unfortunately acquainted with Be En recently, at times cannot simply put up with the highly intervening and tormenting nature of Be En. (for that matter, Who Can) . Also Mr BMK, with a fan-following is specially skilled in strings and gifted with a musical voice is different. Though they share same bits and pieces of some philosophy and being inspiring to Be En, they are ultimately different. When paths become different ? will people also? Well that’s a philosophy . But here they are not the same.
RESULT: Sometimes all it takes is accepting the differences. So here in accordance with the acceptance rule, It has been clearly proved that the Subject Be En is thoroughly different from the above eight specimen-friends. And If asked to prove anything, firmly stick to, it been shown disproved. That’s the trick of the trade.
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