Jul 21, 2007

The Setting

           It all began, a couple of four years ago when I started. My Mom came across a book with a dragon(looked like it, anyway. It was a Hippogriff.) and a boy sitting on it along with a girl, on it's cover. By some impulse, she bought the book under the impression that her underage, handsome looking son might perhaps override his birthday demands for that year. Under a starry sky, at the eleventh hour, when the whole world was asleep and his highness was swatting mosquitoes at the bus stop with a rolled up newspaper that did not resemble a newspaper from any angle, his Mom came from behind and thrust this weird looking parcel containing ink, printed on pages and compiled into a book, into the hand that was not directly involved in 'Project Anopheles'. Surprise. Apprehension. And irritation as another mosquito entered the unspeakable region and stung rather hard.
           I went home and shelved it away for another lighter day, after giving a weird look at the weirder cover and even weirder title. Who would name anybody Potter? Why not carpenter or Pilot or even Bootlegger? I slept peacefully dreaming of bikini clad females, sitting on dragons and whooping as the dragon breathed fire and burnt all my clothes and hair.
           A couple of weeks later, after a rather terrible day that included a bad test and a squabble with my brother, Orangutan over a bar of Toblerone, I was searching for my map workbook when I came across it again. I took the book and thought: maybe it won't be as bad as watching Shaktimaan and settled to give it a read. The journey began.
           The book was simply too good. I made my Mom get all the rest (The fourth part had just released). I was simply thrilled when I finished all the remaining three within two days. I kept re-reading and re-reading. The thrill never ran out. I could not wait for the fifth book. It did come. But it carried with it, a length tag that had many numerals. I started getting bored halfway through. Even though, I liked it on reading it again, the thrill was gone. It was a dampened chimp, awaiting the sixth book which was even dumber. I could not believe, that anybody could be that die-hard enough to expect the seventh to be good. My interest had petered out. The suspense built in the first four books was out and too many concepts were delved into, with neither coherence or sequence.
           Eight years down the line, after those two nasty versions, here I am. Sitting. Reading. Racing against time. Waiting and revising the fifth and the sixth book.
           In all preparation for the seventh.
           For The Deathly Hallows.
           It might have been weak but faith will rule. I am sure. And it has never failed me so far.

Jul 9, 2007

Hearsay heroes

           I was glued to it. Addicted, more like it. Perhaps, hooked might be more apt. Or maybe, obsessed. Good. Now that I've showed off my limited knowledge of words, I'll get down to the actual story.
           Three days ago, I was sitting in my classroom counting the number of spiders that were making out behind their flimsy bedsheet covers, when I chanced a couple conversing at one end of the classroom. It was lunch time and the class was deserted. Bored of the arachnoids and their disgusting movements, I made my way between the desks towards the couple, OmShanti and D'Fock.
           These two were in a deep, animated discussion. Animated would be an understatement. They were literally yelling and gesturing alarmingly like two mad men stranded in the desert with a lizard for company. I gingerly poked my ear in and tried to figure what it was all about. I would have stood like that for about twenty minutes and all of it made as much sense to me as the Beer and Johnston written in hieroglyphics. Towards the end, when the nerves in my rear started their din, a single word was ejaculated. "Heroes".
           I would have jumped up and brought the roof down had I actually known what it meant, but at that point of time I was totally ignorant and it elicited no spectacular reaction. I just 'ah-ed'. And that particular sound jolted the two out of their discussion and they noticed me. I grinned.
           "So..?", asked D'Fock.
           "What is this heroes, eh?", me asked ignorantly.
           Without a word, OmShani handed me a black box and commanded,
           "Go watch it."
           I obediently, took the hard disk and went to my room, shut myself in. I switched my computer on and plugged in the harddisk. I copied the episodes to my computer and promptly slept off dreaming about Pamela tap dancing with me in the rain.
           Saturday dawned gloriously and with a victorious leap, I leapt out of my bed yelling like Tarzan, with a red ant clinging to his butt, Pamela apparently having got too wet for comfort. The whole day was free and after a rather tiring week, it was a blessing. I planned the entire day. Must watch a movie, meet up a couple of females, not necessarily hot, rather freezing; play some tennis and have a bath.
           Unfortunately, my planning was as successful as the Indian Cricket Team strategy. Thanks to my innocous, little finger.
           It happened in a second. I was actually reaching for my toothpaste, on top of the shelf, when my little finger decided to stretch itself and moved the mouse. My derelict computer, widdled out of its screensaving thingummy and came to life shining brightly. I swore and shut my eyes for a few more seonds. Then I peered closely at the screen which said the copying was done. My memory fiddled around with itself and then I remembered, Heroes. Curiosity took over.
           Clicking on the first episode, I sat with my toothbrush in my mouth and the toothpaste, leaking through my fingers. I sat and sat and sat. Rains came thundering, people came pelting, pigeons came pooping, but I sat on forever.
           I sat until every episode of it was over.
           Twenty three episodes. Forty five minutes each. Seventeen point two five hours. It was amazing. It was as my friend, BigLow would put it, "damn convoluted" and he does not know a thing in biology.
           Two days later, there were three people involved in an animated discussion in the classroom.
           Three days later, it became seven.
           And it grows, everyday.