I took a late trip to the Grand Canyon 3 dream-nights ago, and I was bedazzled to see something so spectacular and unprecedented ever in my life. My eyes just flipped backwards to check the authenticity of my visit to this vast spread of mountainous artistry, not withholding the goosebumps so tangible that I could feel liquid Nitrogen melting in my veins. The sheer dumbfound luck that I found was so precious to be precocious natured for a comic-con fan like me.

As I crudely reeled the shutter off my eyes, I found a hugely built muscular giant looming large over the Superior as a green comet does over a lake so serene to be blue in precise. Indeed, it was the HULK!!! No 3-D glass would ever give me that feeling for I felt one thing so captivating – his fists just missed me as he tried to smash an Asgard prince with a mighty thump (THOR anyone..?)! I for once was taken aback. ‘Aren’t they the Avengers?’ I really cross-examined myself just as Thor hammered one on Hulk’s carven back. The confusion hoopla soon turned out to be a bizarre dream in a dream itself as I saw the caped Knight drag the man with disliking towards Kryptonite. Seriously, Batman mauling Superman as if he was a dead carcass? No way!! Superman had on prior tried to laser off the Dark Knight, but the man with the money, fame and dames just shied it off! As a young kid I always fancied being Batman (tying a black bedsheet strangulating my neck for a while) and especially watching him live beating the hell out of an overrated superhero was always one that I cherished then.

With these events not sufficing the overgrown dreaming, an Amazon warrior like woman with an American outfit slashing and flashing her wrists and by doing so deflecting back all-direction bullets digressed my eyes off Batman’s heroics. What is a Justice League decorative doing in the scorching Appalachian away from the sunny Savannas!! Weirder as it got, she gently pin-handled the man with the golden gun, 007 (that makes up for the titanium bullets off a Glock 17). Shut the front door!! Bond?  I just tried to slap myself off the dream in a dream of the dream I had planned to dream before dreaming the previous night. To exacerbate the convoluted happenings, I saw Flash waltzing past the man in Steel, Iron Man. “Boom… kaboom…dishoom…kapow…pow…thud…uggh” were few words describing their unending duel which am sure is impossible to appease even by Duality theory.

 I finally awoke that morning away from the dream in a dream of a dream that I had dreamt of dreaming the previous night given due consideration to the thousand knocks on my door as Mom pounded on and on. One thing’s for sure, Dreams are Beautiful unless they become as flummoxing as mine!!

Today afternoon defined what everyone calls 'an exhilarating one'. Just as I minced my kheema+chapati rolls (mom-made) viewing the disastrous Indian batting on Star Cricket in spite of all the star presence we had in the team, it made me go mad as to what lame thing I was being entertained with this afternoon that seemed anachronistic at all times. But soon it hit upon me the fact that I had to go to college to catch the finals of the inter-department cricket match between Mechanical Engineering and Computer Science Engineering. I expected it to be a damp squib, given the fact that Mechanical had trounced the other teams on route to the finals (even as the underdogs) and CS had not put up a noteworthy victory either in the ferry to the finals. So reasonable was my logic that it affirmed me of a huge Mechanical victory. But soon, I got a text message reading, "CS: 120! great contest in hand! Come over!" from my bestie. Off I hurried notwithstanding the generous flow of runs CS had amassed. 120 is always a tricky score to chase especially in the finals wherein you're locked up either with run-a-ball or 'boom boom afridi'.
As I arrived, two Mechanical wickets fell like castles invaded by Chengiz Khan (Arjun Rao was our destroyer here). The CSian crowd just erupted in wild mimicry and bombastic talk even as the Mechanical team tried to gulp in their sour portion. Soon, it was as if Jill fell instead of Jack! Mechanical started bashing up the bowlers left and right, up and straight, over and through; practically boundaries just were galore in the field. With the advent of the 'scintillating knight' (gagan hosmani), the Mechanical team breezed past the modest target as though it was of counting Arabic numerals (no offence Mr. Fibonacci). Never had I seen a flash mob dancing to the Gangnam style as huge as the one after the Mechanical team routed CS at point blank range. Chants of "RMD, RMD.." scorched through the tightly packed molecules of air (gosh! it even smelled victory the entire time).
Suddenly, out of the blues, the GS asked me to be "Ravishing Ravi Shastri" for the evening!! Being a nervous shipwreck myself I was too reluctant to have a go at it. But the sheer prodigious extremity of the event just dragged me to the microphone and made me speak some awesome crap! Replacing "present" by "produce" as in "I would like to request XXX to pppp..produce the award to...LOL!! Overall, fantastic fun, glorious gunning down of the opposition and elation at its best were the taglines for the MECHANICAL Lovers!!

I am what I do, but do i do what i say? I am a doer of sorts, but do I sort things out just as I claim to do? My ideas seem doable, but do I seemingly try to work my ideas? Where doth i stand if I don't know my standing with that of my doing? All I now ponder about doing is whether doing is really an act or an art? I do  believe in doing as in an art rather than doing as in an act. With a doer believing in his doable acts, would bring about the act to do things in a more enjoyable way than it's counterpart wherein acting just steals the art of doing things. To make do things better, Do it as an art, rather than acting it out as some obsolete cliched form of work!!