Mein Freund

Chintan ist mein Freund. Er kommt von Neu Delhi. Er ist 19 Jahre alt. Er studiert Elektroniktechnik am IIT Kharagpur. In Kharagpur er wohnt in das Patel Studentenheim. Sein Vater arbeitet bei Motorola in Neu Delhi. Seine Mutter ist eine HausFrau. Seine Schwester ist eine Schülerin. Sein Brüder ist verheiratet und hat zwei Kinder. Chintan ist aber ledig und froh. Chintan spricht viel. Er tanzt zur klassicher Musik. Er ist aber ein sehr schlechter Sänger. Chintan ist intelligent und fleißig. Er versteht Sachen sehr schnell. Chintan sagt gute Geschichte. Er spielt Füßball und Schach.
Chintan ist das beste !!!

(The above is my first essay in German that I had written in my Mid Semester Examination. Thought I should flaunt the fact that I know a new language :D
Anyways, for those of you who couldn't understand the above, go to Google's Translation Page, copy the above stuff in the proper place and make the option: Translate from German to English. And voila, Du hast die Details über meinen Freund, Chintan.
Disclaimer: I tried doing the above and the result was horrific. All the pronouns and prepositions are screwed up. Nowhere near what I had meant about Chintan. Anyways, do try doing that. It's fun.)

It hurts... It feels good...

It hurts when your best friends say that they won't wish you on a girl, coz you are so eccentric and fanatic that the girl will go mad with you.
It feels good to know that whatever happens, someone somewhere is made for you. Someone who will prefer to go mad on and with you.

It hurts when teachers ask for respect.
It feels good to respect teachers who earn that respect from you.

It hurts to see able-bodied people beg.
It hurts to see poverty and unequal distribution of happiness around.
It hurts to see people not realising their potential.
It hurts to stay so far away from people you love.
It hurts when you have the will and the confidence but not the stamina to complete a task.
It hurts to shout at someone, to bitch about someone behind his/her back.
It hurts to make assumptions about someone.
It hurts answering questions posed to oneself.
It hurts asking questions to oneself.
It hurts to eat food in the mess prepared by strangers.

It feels good to be with people who are pretty sure of what's going to happen to them in the next 10 minutes.
It feels good to have met people who have influenced you.
It feels good to know that although not with you, your parents and family love and trust you.
It feels good to see and watch your friends succeed in whatever they do, to watch them break records on NFS.
It feels good to tire your body and test its limits.
It feels good to 'crack' a problem not for the sake of marks but for the sake of just doing it that way.
It feels good to know someone completely.
It feels good to eat the stuff your mother makes for you.
It feels good to talk with intellectuals, people who are aware of what they speak.
It feels good to love someone.

It feels good to know that you are the Best.