The post I forgot to title. *

So one thing I've learnt recently is, its no fun to call a spade a spade. Its more fun to call it the black card that can capture your soul. That way people listen when you talk.

Now, surprising as it may be, that has absolutely nothin to do with what I plan to write further. Although i couldn be too sure. Cuz u see, i don't plan a lot. So needless to say I haven't planned what i'm gonna write. M gonna make it up as I go. (Ofcourse, I have a feeling thats probably why i'm writing to you from Kota, but the day I'm sure its why, I'll start planning.)

So i jus returned from Delhi like a few days back. Ofcourse this trip wasn't planned either. I'd been wallowing in my situation n talked to this friend who was very kind to listen to me n we concluded I needed a break. So I called up my mom, told her i'm coming home tomorrow ( asked her actually, but told sounds cooler - the same not calling a spade that concept - N at this point I owe you an apology. I was apparently goin to use that analogy. But in my defence, I didn't know either. Now since by now, you've probably forgotten what I was talking bout, I think it'd be nice to return to what i was saying. Ofcourse I won't admit to you that few seconds back i scrolled up to find out what that was exactly. Wait, did i just admit? ah wel. So what?) * I'm not sure if I meant the closing brackett to be there, but it was too confusing to decide, so anyhow...* I told my mom I'm coming home tomorrow, n then next morning during class, I wasn't sure if I should bother n called up that same sweet friend, who said ya, jus do it. So i packed my bags, got an auto to the bus stand, found the (only I think) AC bus that leaves for Jaipur from Kota. I sat on seat no. 18. Two more men came claimin seats 17 and 18 to be theirs, but seeing me, they didn't bother to pull out their tickets to check, n just sat somewhere else randomly (they were asked to get up from there by the occupant of that seat later). The next stop was Boondi, (A place. Incase you're suddenly pining for Sagar Ratna's youghurt. Now that i mentioned it, you probably are) from where an uncle with his nose high up in the air came and sat next to me, n told me how my seat was reserved for passengers from that stop. I, in an equally haughty manner, pulled out my ticket, and showed the no. 18 written below the words Seat no. He said he was just informing me. That was the case generally. (Later, when I got my Jaipur Delhi ticket, I was initially surprised how even on that, the no. 18 was there below Seat no. Till I realised that the printed stuff was shifted to the right. The column to the left of Seat no. had been Age. My Kota-Jaipur seat no. had been 6. Fun.)

Anyhow, uncle started fumbling with the AC thing. Being the cool delux bus that it was, the lights above the seats didn't work. Instead, the air that is supposed to come from the AC shaft, was coming from what had in its days of glory been a bulb holder thingy. The point being, I helped uncle direct the AC properly, and he told me which stop I wanted to get off on. This is known as symbiosis. In a metaphorical manner of speaking.

My chacha picked me up in Jaipur, where I stayed for bout an hour, and then got onto a Volvo to Delhi. It was blissful sitting in the cool of the AC, the chirping sounds of Nokias ringing, and the smell of fresh subway sandwiches. (Courtesy the large man sitting next to me. By large, I mean fat. I also saw how he got there. In a 6.5 hour journey, he consumed 2 subs. Consumed is decent for 'gobbled'.) I reached Delhi at 2 am. N home felt like a luxury room after Kota. So I left my razor there. Now, I won't be shaving for a month. :D