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Riding a Bus, Like a Baws

By Zarif Masud

Buses. Ah yes. Tin cans on wheels, driven by tired, sleepy drivers assisted by conductors with practically no eyes.

I know all about those. I know, because I rode on one once.

It was a day like any other. It was afterschool and I was hungry. Really hungry. My stomach was invoking all manner of evil unto me. After a heated argument with my innards, I conceded defeat and spent my rickshaw fare on a burger.

Next thing I know, I was standing in the queue for the bus. There was this guy selling tickets. I bought one, despite the fact that no one else did, which seemed strange at the time. This huge 'Murir Tin' came to a halt before us and I calmly walked over to the door. By that time, others had made it to the ticket stand and before I could get on, I felt myself being pushed down, stomped upon and felt a wild stampede pass over my body.

With nothing more serious than a few fractured ribs and a broken cheek-bone and probably a concussion, judging by the disorientation, I got on the bus and took the first seat I could reach. I was getting all kinds of stares from the people around me for reasons I could not quite fathom. A guy with spiky hair made a snide remark to his bulky friend pointing at me and going, “Retard… haha.”

Before I could figure this whole thing out, a middle-aged lady got on the bus and saw me sitting in the front seat and went absolutely berserk. The conductor saw the commotion and came over. I was about to thank the Lord when the conductor started screaming at me too. Apparently, that was where women and children sat. I tried convincing them I was a child. Didn't work. Stupid stubble!

So, I went to the back and having found no empty seat, I kept standing. The bus started moving and some guy promptly elbowed me on the face. He didn't even apologise and then kept staring at me, daring me to say something. I eye-balled him back and this went on for a while. Suddenly, the bus stopped and the guy hopped off and went away without a second glance back. Must have had more important people to eye-ball.

Some of the seats also cleared at the stop and being the sneaky little bastard that I was, I took one of them. With a wide grin etched on my face and feeling rather pleased with myself, I put on my headphones and started humming to some music.

Suddenly, a couple of dozen people got on and the whole place was cramped for space. A guy stood next to me and shoved his armpit right over my nose. That knocked me cold.

I regained my senses after a while and just in time too. I was to get down in the next stoppage. I picked up my bag… well, I tried to, anyway. Only, it wasn't there. I reached into my pockets to find it empty. No cellphone, no wallet, nothing. The only thing I had on me was the ticket, which ironically, no one had asked for.

C'est le bus.


Hatebook

The angry brother of Facebook

By Mastura Tasnim

Facebook can get so annoying at times. All those happy people in their happy world dreaming happy dreams while other happy people 'like' their happiness. You know what I'm talking about: the cute couples with their cute pictures, the smart people with their shiny medals and flammable certificates, and all those dumb depressing people posting song lyric after song lyric as if there was no tomorrow. Makes you really want to hit Zuckerberg over the head for unlimited status space and no dislike button. Also for timeline. Specially for timeline.

At the end of the day, though, Facebook is the only place where we can vent our anger and frustration at the world's stupidly happy people. Except we can't, because they can report us for it. So where to go?

Introducing hate-book. It's like Facebook, except red and worse (in a good way).

Are you sick and tired of all things mainstream? Do you love to hate, and hate to love? Are you planning on world domination any time soon? Hatebook can take you that much closer to your dreams of being a super-villain/world ruler/ninja assassin. We aren't really sure about that last one, but we advise you to never stop believing, because we really care about you and it has nothing to do with the fact that you tend to read us more when you're unemployed.

At Hatebook, it's all about releasing the inner beast, so it's mandatory that you hate. Your profile features interests that suck, activities you hate and even your very own hate-motto.

Bored of talking about your stupid workplace on Facebook? Hatebook doesn't give you that option. You can be any one of a list of people, in which 'Head of Sleep' and 'Ruler of the World' are popular choices.

Tired of explaining to people why your relationship status says that 'It's complicated?' With Hatebook you can say “you don't wanna know”, along with informing people that you're a 'loser' or a 'player.' You can make a little angry cartoon version of yourself, appropriately named hatebuddy, while you're there. The hatebook version of a wall is a blackboard where they encourage you to 'post lies!' Yes, with an exclamation mark.

People can have both 'homies' and 'enemies', just like in real life. The evil-spawning German creators of the website integrated Google maps to it so you can now locate your enemies provided they're dumb enough to give out their actual address.

You can make your very own hate-clan where you sit along with other social outcasts and vent. And yes, Justin Bieber has more than enough hate-clans dedicated to him. You can also add hate-photos to rant about pictures you absolutely loathe. What's even better is that there are currently only around 29,000 users compared to Facebook's millions. In short, Hatebook is hipster heaven.

But be warned, Hatebook isn't as good as Facebook at being an interactive tool and you will soon get tired of the apparent uselessness of it all. But if you've got time to throw around, why not?


“So I didn't get into Medicine...
but I have this funny degree instead"

By TheAlien4mEarth

This uncle and his family come to visit your humble home. He has a PhD. His wife has two, and his son just got into Cambridge. He adjusts his glasses and peers over them at you.

“And what are you studying, beta?”

“Oh, I'm doing Zombieology at the Zombie Institute of Theoretical Studies.”

Uncle promptly chokes on the fish cutlet that your mum had so painstakingly made in his honour. His Cambridge-going son gives you a snigger. Worst of all, your parents are throwing you murderous looks.

But it's all true. You can ACTUALLY study Zombieology at the Zombie Institute of Theoretical Studies, which is somewhere in Glasgow, UK. Course modules include the Scientific Basis of Zombies, How to Identify a Zombie and practical courses on What to do During a Zombie Outbreak. They even have an online version of the course, on which this writer gained a second-class degree. Career prospects are promising for aspiring zombie-hunters, if the Walking Dead is anything to go by. Otherwise, there's always Hollywood.

Speaking of stars, if you'd like to try something a bit more glamorous, you could always become a David Beckhamologist. These people are studying to become the world's leading experts on... well, David Beckham. The course is said to be quite gruelling, with extensive amounts of textbook (read: football magazine) study. Course modules include David Beckham's first goal, David Beckham's hair, David Beckham's pets, and other such matters of world- shaking importance. Practical modules are not offered. Career prospects: none as yet.

If you're more of the outdoorsy type with a hands-on approach, you could always try Surfing Technology. We're hearing that the University of Plymouth offers this. Modules include: Staying on the Board for More Than A Second and Shark Diversion Tactics 101. Optional modules include Smooth Talking with the Ladies and Maintaining a Perfect Beach Body (it's not as easy as it looks). Career prospects: no clue, but with a first-class honours degree in Surfing Tech, you might just pick up a girlfriend or two. Close enough.

Now the catch is, we Bangladeshis don't really have a thing for surfing, nor do we have a David Beckham. So these degrees (except Zombieology, of course) are pretty much useless to us. But so what? We have our own set of degrees that are perfectly suited to our unique Bangali tastes.

Bangla Cinema Studies with a minor in Shakib Khanology - From nomenclature to production to understanding all the complex emotions portrayed on screen, here you will learn it all. Studying for your minor, you will learn Shakib Khan's breathtaking dance moves, and the secret of his strawberry-plump lips. With a third-class degree in this subject, you are well on your way to making it big in Dhalliwood.

Hartal Studies - In this course you will learn how to effectively plan and launch your own hartal on the unsuspecting masses. Modules include: Optimum Timing of a Hartal, Gathering Bekar Mofizes off the Road and Gari Bhangchur. Final year students will also be required to take part in a live Dhawa-Palta Dhawa session. If you survive, you get the Honours degree.

Polapainzz Linguistics - At the end of this course, you'll hopefully be able to understand and use terminology such as “bhallagse bhaa” and “pura pinik, mamu”. This course is taught by highly experienced native speakers of the language. An optional module in FacEb0ok LaNGuagE is also available to those who show exceptional ability in the spoken modules. Career prospects look good- you might just get hired by a rich auntie who has no idea what her 'bideshi' son is talking about. Practice outside the classroom is however, highly discouraged.


   

 

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