Laminar Flow

Laminar, turbulent.... are the different styles of flow that u would encounter in your coming days" Mr. Sharma explained in his drenched voice in the fluid mechanics classroom.

Maybe I was too young to realize the dynamics of flow at that early age otherwise why would have I given direction with my soft little fingers??? Now I realize it’s a perfect example of laminar flow [occurs when a fluid flows in parallel layers].

Dragging the remembrance, I see a little tormented schoolboy incapable of controlling the sudden rush of emotion, changed them to the motion of layers and layers of salty water...

The boy had lost a friend. A friend whom he considered having all the ingredients to become his best friend but then he realized that he had been made the victim for his over-believing and trust he had shown.

His writing slate was no more, crushed to several pieces and thrown around the sitting bench. Such dual dirty blow in his heart and slate had created a channel in his soft little white core and stormy outflow was quite visible.

The fountain of sobbing had come down dramatically. A magnetic lustrous smile was chasing him from a window. He was embarrassed by the unexpected beautiful importance but couldn’t pull his eyes back from the smile as some strange force was demanding touch of the smile...

"Yes Mr., What's your name??? You seem to be concentrating so hard for the last few minutes, so better answer this question now.” A distressed voice shook me suddenly.

"Jone..."

"Ok. Jone, give me an example of Laminar flow". Mr Sharma asked me in his most brutal voice possible.

"My Tears... "

A sudden blast of laughter flooded the whole classroom but that little beautiful smile was nowhere to be found.

Maybe the magical smile expected some real tears.............

The Phone Call!!!

"Yes..." was the only response I could muster. For the first time, I grasped the value of email, as I had sent a simple inquiry about the status of my bank account.

The cell phone rang at the most unexpected moment. Reluctantly answering the call altered the entire situation.

"The call is about the email you sent. I am your Bank Manager, Miss Bristi Boruah," an angelic voice resonated in my ears.

Suddenly, my mood leaped like a pole-vaulter, and I could sense the tranquility of midnight as if someone had momentarily switched off a giant generator that had been disrupting the absolute stillness of the young night for quite some time.

"I deeply apologize for the inconvenience you've faced. It will be rectified by tomorrow morning, Jone," she reassured in her calming tone.

"Yes, Brishti..." That was the only utterance I could manage.

"Jone, why is the status of that issue still pending? Only email me when it's completed." This time, an irritating voice grated on my ears.

I pressed the * button on my cell phone to check the time again, but before I could reflect on the past few minutes, the sounds of that heavy generator started pounding in my head once more.

It seems as though the generator also received a call from Bristi and paused for a few seconds!

Brishti

Bristi.....A dream in a name, I don't recall where I first met her—perhaps outside the window during my early childhood, or maybe in a long-forgotten radio program. 'Brishti'!" I don't know how many songs I've spent searching for the reason behind the irresistible pull towards her, how many cigarettes I've smoked, stretching my hands through the narrow window grills, feeling the touch of tiny winter raindrops awakening my senses.

I could never resist her consistently serene demeanor. I could envision her enveloping me from a distance, sometimes on my way back from school, sometimes while playing football, and other times as I stood by the riverside. Perhaps the longing for a tender, gentle touch deterred me from seeking a safe haven. A soaked smile always traversed deep within as soon as she painted her essence upon me.

I awaited Brishti eagerly as I departed from home to attend college far away. However, there was no sign of her! I anticipated her arrival at any moment, but she departed with a somber expression. Later, I learned that it was my own loved ones who had respectfully pleaded with her to stay away, wishing for my safe journey ahead.

"At last, managed to secure Tatkal tickets. "Mama, I'm coming home!!!"

The Delhi Railway station was damp; the sound of heavy raindrops could be heard for miles, penetrating through my cellphone.

I inquired of my sister, "Is it raining there?"'Yes! but why? Can you see Brishti around?

'Jone, are you going crazy again? Who is Brishti? Will you ever tell me, dear?'"

"Sister, how do I explain? 'Bristi'—it's my cherished name, love wrapped in a dream, a dream embodied in a name."

***My friend has infused the flavor.

Little Rainy Days

I left the doors slightly open so that a few drops of water could come in. It was raining heavily outside. Instead of raindrops, I heard my mom yelling, telling me not to put my hands or legs outside. "I didn't know where this mom came from. Why couldn't she come and play with me?"

I got a chance and ran to my favorite spot behind my house. I blocked the drainage so the rainwater could accumulate, and the little fish would appear. It was my dream to catch a big fish for my dad one day.

After identifying my target fish, I ran through the clogged water with my broken umbrella in hand and pounced on it, only to be met by Mom's big palms hitting every nook and cranny of my body. She picked me up from my self-created island and threw me into my room. Devastated by the destruction of my dream to catch a fish, I decided not to talk to Mom forever.

Upon awakening, I sensed warmth on my forehead and the scent of oil on my chest and palms. Yet, they failed to alleviate the despondency in my heart or alter my decision until I caught sight of a full egg alongside paratha and milk. I was filled with excitement and joy, overwhelmed with emotion. A smile spread across my face as I immediately realized that my mom was the best.

Years later, while on the Delhi-Gurgaon Expressway, I asked, "Mom, can you hear me?" The rain pours heavily outside. And just as expected, her response echoes in my mind: "Don't put your hands or legs outside."

I realize how much I miss the rain, my dream, and my home, but I truly don't know how much I miss you... Mom.

The Most Affordable Way to Be Recognized as a Gentleman

I was youthful and attending school.

I inquired my brother about the nature of the game. "What was this game all about? Why were you watching it? I could not comprehend anything. Why were the adults chasing after the ball? Wouldn't it be better to play hide and seek?"

..........he told me...since me a boy...i must watch the geme....if i would like 2 be...Gentleman in future..i should play the Game Also......as "gentlemen play this game only...."....from very date ....me the ardent follower of the game....and its grts....and although i had kicked ..slapped few...still me the Gentleman....coz once i played this game called "The CRICKET......"

Note:My aansu were flowing while i was writing this.....

Economic Globalization:

Teacher expalined: "Hit the iron when it's hot 2 make a Axe ".

Why shouldn't i purchase it from a BlackSmith??Doesn't that teach us to snatch employment from a needy one?????.

Registration Form

1996...just passed out from school. Everything was looking so fresh that decided 2 launch my website for girls 2 register so that could start the Love life as soon as possible. It was grt & looking just like this..

                REGISTRATION FORM

Status : Very Beautiful Beautiful

Financial Status :Very Rich Rich

Relative Working Abroad [if yes, Give Detail]:

No of LIC Policies :

Ready To Share Dating Expenses : 100% 75% 50%

Ur Name :

Ur Contact No:

Note : Wait for ur appointment, would get reply within 7 days.

    
    After a decade the same registration form is looking like this........

                 REGISTRATION FORM

Ur Name :

    

*Note :Get Free Gift On Visiting My Site.....................


My Contact Add: 
cx.yahoooo.com 
No:XXX666888812

10 O' Clock

10 O' clock, saturday morning,Ahh again late,missed again.Don't know how I delete this late morning sleep.

 Missed my Shared Cab which i take for office..Although i don't have office on saturday...but this has been a long time wish now, reason was the girl comes along with us in the cab... her look fluctuates through out the week.....

Monday : Looks very Avg..

..................

....................graph going upward

Thursday : She misses the beautiful tag by few minutes.An

investment of few minutes could have make her really beautiful..

Friday : she is beautiful......No second word...

Saturday : 10 O' clock...ohh missed again

Waiting At Lal Batti

i was on a bike with a friend..waiting for the red light 2 become green.As it was getting very boring....simply.. ...asked the Driver waiting left 2 me "bhai FM chalaa de....."

his immediate reply was "cann't u see the lady left2 me in all closed black window branded car.....AC must be on inside the car....she could not even listen 2 her own voice ...how come my FM..".. before i could realize anything, bike was on expressway..
...........
i was guessing...was ac really on.......???????