Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

I am not planning to review this book. I just want to shout that I am loving the book. Since the day I have taken the book in my hands, I have been dreaming to finish it. While sleeping I dream about next chapter. I dream about harry's possible actions to defend himself, so I just want to finish the book and watch the movie one more time to enjoy it more.

I had finished Harry Potter's first three parts quite a long time back, since then I was planning to start rest other parts, but I did not get enough chances to start these books. But this Saturday I got the perfect time to start the book and now I hope to finish this book by Thursday, so that take I can start 5th book of the series.

You all must wish me best of luck. :-)

Autobiography of an illiterate MCP

My name is Brij Kishor Chaturvedi, my fellow mates and officers call me Kaidi Number 603. 603 is a special number, do not you know it? No!!!! Okay let me elaborate. As we all know 420 is associated with evil so as 786 is with god. 603 is middle of these two numbers so this number implied my existing between evil and got i.e. a man, just a perfect man in the imperfect world. You must be wondering, either I am too crazy or philosopher. But believe me I am just a farmer, who has been counting his days to judgment day.


How did a farmer, an image of devotion, sacrifice, labour, purity and sincerity, end in prison? It is a long and tragic story; you will neither believe me nor appreciate my efforts to keep the pride of male community. I have not either copied or pasted my story but it looks dramatic and filmy.


I was in love. Please please, I do not want to hear a farmer, an image of blah blah. I also have a heart; which can fall for someone sweet, adorable and lovable and my heart fell for my own wife. Though she was a teacher and I was almost illiterate, but there were a lively attachment between us. Though my love was boundless but there were fights between husband and wife. We used to flights for individual's right. I am a male and In Indian society a wife is dust of his husband's feet and I wanted the same respect from her. But instead of appreciating my love for her, she tried to dictate and force her commandments on me. Our culture says husband is the religion and devotion for the wife. But my life/wife stopped hearing the advice from other villagers. All villagers were jahil and Ganwar for her. She argued about the changed world, does not she know the world cannot change till we/men change it? She escaped from Nari Dharma with the excuse of her tiredness and busy schedule. She did not allow me to sleep with her "because I was illiterate" and according to her my breath was bad. Neem ka Datun was not good enough to brush my teeth; she wanted me to brush my teeth with Angreji toothpaste. My father died without holding my son in his hands because my wife did not find any difference between daughter and son. She did not want someone to carry our name in this world/country/state/village. Her decisions kept deterioration our relationship every day. My daughters started calling me Unpad Budhdha. One such monstrous day in rage, unexpected and unprecedented event happened and I was awarded the capital punishment for killing my own daughters. I argued with judge and told him the necessity to take such steps to set an example which will help in preserving the honour of Male society. But idiot and literate judge said "Shut up, you illiterate and idiot MCP". Hmmm, MCP, some big term I suppose.


Here ends my story about love and sacrifices to maintain the decorum of the male society.
Jail's environment is not as it is shown in the Bollywood movies. Most of the people coming here do not have a killer instinct. Most of them do not have muscles, fame and money. Their bones are ready to jump out of skeleton cage. They are filled with darkness, humiliation, sorrow and bitterness of their conducts. They weep when they receive letters from their families. They cry when they meet to their lovely families. Though we get food thrice a day but still no one gains any weight. We work hard but our muscles do not improve. Lots of Sipahis, holding old and rusty guns, whistle and parade around us. An idiot Jailer keep shouting and frowning over us.


Here in jailhouse I have comrades who were involved in murders, thefts, robberies, rapes and many other heinous crimes but no one is innocent like me. Everyone has been penalized for his own crimes but I was punished for keeping the esteem of the society. A convict, who was self acclaimed Don, salutes me every day. As soon as I wake up, he walks in-front of my cell, salutes and shouts MC. MC is another big word I learned here. Other remaining prisoners are scared of me. They do not have the courage to stare or look at me or talk to me, but they frown due to jealousy. Though I feel alone but their fear fascinates and strengthens me more to keep them away forever.


My honey did not even visit once to meet me or to find out my conditions in the lock up. She denied hiring a reputed counselor to save my life or to appeal further. I heard people gossiping about my wife and me. I think she is going out with someone else and she will move to another village soon. I should bag one hour from police inspector at the name of male community and murder this bitch who is dishonoring the custom of our great society. I still love her but I cannot let her ruin our honor and pride.


I have seen people coming and leaving the cell. Everyone brings a new story to discuss. We all old in-mates gossip about the new talent and appreciate his courage if he has done something significant. One day one more guy entered the prison. He looked innocent but he was awarded capital punishment next Monday. Nobody knew his story, he was a quiet man. He did not even talk to his cell mates. He was finding solace in his own solitude. This was the first execution in the jail.


It was Sunday. I saw lot of changes in the environment. Police force was increased significantly. Media persons increased the chaos outside and tension inside the premise. Everyone was talking about the upcoming hanging. All other prisoners were trying to figure out the story behind our new companion and reason for such huge media coverage. Lots of people were not able to eat even a single piece of bread. We were not taken out to work. Activities around new prisoner’s cell were increased. Other two in-mates of the cell were adjusted in other cells. Everyone was tense, unhappy and panic-stricken.


Day passed in horror and hustle-bustle. Hanging was supposed to commence at six AM in-front of all the prisoners. At five o’clock he was taken out of his cell. He was trembling and chanting “Ram Ram Ram” interminably. He was not able to walk due to shaking in his legs, instead of walking he was hanging on the guards carrying him. His eyes were filled with tear, horror, fear and terror. Unlike yesterday, today he was shaved and was dressed well. According to his last wish, he heard the Bhagwat Geeta for one hour before leaving his cell. He must be trying to reduce his sins down at last moments of his life.


Media people were mocking the death scene and were telecasting the death as “Breaking news”. Instead of sympathizing with a human, their remarks were filled with hatred. There were glimpse of insanity and inhumanity in their eyes. Their eyes were dry and emotionless for 50 year old chap, who would not exist anymore with-in few minutes.


The ground was filled with people. Executioner had taken the podium and for the formalities purposes he was checking if everything was working perfectly fine. There were at-least 50+ soldiers who were around the podium. Cameras were setup around the podium to take the nearest possible shot of stretched neck. Jailer, doctor and jury members were in the front row. We all were standing behind them and we all were the spectator of something painful. There were few of us who had to face the same punishment within some time and our heart was sinking and pounding hard.


Soon, our latest in-mate was brought into the ground. He was still hanging over soldiers arms. He was uncontrollable, he was screaming, he was pleading, he was weeping and he was shaking. When we live then we pray for death and when death is so near then we always wish to live little longer. He was shouting that it was devil who acted at that moment but no one seems like listening to him. Judge was busy checking time in his wrist watch, hangman was busy in tie the rope, jailer was busy analysing the environment, and doctor was taking his equipments out of suitcase.


He was taken to podium and he peed there. Everyone gave him a disgusted look except me and few others who have the similar destiny. He was not concerned about the urination act, he was not concern about the disgusted look, he was just trembling and shouting in horror. Executioner tied his hands, put a black cloth on his head and tied the rope around his neck. His shaking increased which was even evident from the last row.  Clock in the ground clicked, judge’s arm went down, and trigger was pulled. Very next second a body was hanging in air, it was weltering like fish taken outside the water. It felt pain for little more time but after 2-3 minutes of pain, it was all over. The pain, the shaking, the fear, the terror, and the rest were over. The man and his sufferings were over. Doctor examined and after confirmation the group left the premise.


The hanging body was yet in front of my eye but it was not the person who died it was I who was hanging over the rope. Pictures, voice and talks of my sweet daughters flashed back to my mind. I was not sure about anything other than death.

Note: This story is complete work of fiction and is inspired by an article published by Hindu by George Orwell.

Bangalore No More heaven for me

Few years back Bangalore was heaven to live. People/Friends were there to hang out with, few had more time, noon were not as hotter. Everything was just like living your dream time with your own hard earned money.

Now things have changed. Noon is exposed to more UV rays than earlier, College friends have chosen their destiny. As part to their decisions either they moved to other states or re-entered to colleges or could not find time as they need to fulfill their other important commitments.

Am I happy with this life? :(:(:(

Hmmmm, nice question :)... As we always say there are pros and cons for everything. Are there any pros? Oh surely there are, I can list few. My manager who never expected me to work 8 hours now expect me to code for 15 hours a day because I spend more time in office rather spending it at home. So chances of getting good rating has enhanced a lot. I can read more books(It rarely happened) at home. I can learn new technologies(Techie thought). I can learn some instrument(Oops no music sense), write more blogs(Poor in talks), talk to people more on phone(Oops noone calls me as well) and may be because I am not surrounded by guys anymore; I can find a partner(No good girl in my circle) for me.

Oh I never thought there can be so many advantages :( :(. I know I know I am bullying a lot but...

Oh what are the cons of the whole migrations? Hmmm, I don't find people to hang out with, people to fight with, people to argument(mostly nonsensical manner) with . I think this is what matters most to live the happy life. Now if I have to go out to shop, i have to think 10 times and but there was a time, when people used to ask and I used to deny as I had been to market twice earlier in the day. So all in all I miss a lot of things wwhich is named Bak*****.

Thousand Splendid suns

Khaled hosseini, started writing some chunk of thought about afgan history, Afgan Woman, Afgan WAR. Then finally she end up finishing a book called, THE THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS. Every book can be categorized in Drama, Emotions, Adventure, fiction, history; But after reading the first half of the book it is really hard to find out What is the point that the writer trying to convey?

Books starts up on a slow path, and the pace degrades with the each ending chapter. So after turning few pages you will find the sentences that are struggling to breathe. There are four parts in the book. Each part is tried to connected with the other in the fully isolated manner. So hosseini tried hard to isolate each part with other but could not keep the theme going.

First part features the condition of a Agfani gal, who is trying to establish in a world. The world which is new to her even at the age of 15. She is burden to society, to father. But this brave girl tried hard to keep herself living in the man dominated world. Along with that writer tried to show the real face of the agfan thinking.

In second part she tried to cover Afgan thinking, Afgan jihad, Afgan history, Afgan era. So as a whole second part became a mixer of chemical solvent which can never come up with a result. Writer has shown her brilliance in showing dead over life. She has featured death in such a way that you can see it but she could not featured life through out the book.

Third part really makes book somewhat interesting. It pacify the life of the two main characters of the book. Again writer is able to fetch her best in describing the death. This is the most interesting part of that book.

Fourth part is trying to finishing the book, finishing it was a pain for me. But finally i ended the book. Guys beware if you are planning to take this book to enjoy. Han to know history, to know afgan struggle you can read the book. In case you started and could not finish reading it, do not miss 3rd part. you might end up covering up some amount of your money.