Indian English
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
Indian (General) Indian (Hinglish)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
the first of the five census that the man loses while dying is the sense of smell. The last is ordered to the so in effect, you can hear all that is happening around you, even after your day, Professor Rosario at the National Institute of Neuroscience explained. The projected showed the picture of a human brain on a large screen. Brian shuttered at the thought of being able to listen to the cries around as one dies. He was feeling very uneasy with the professor speech. He could field the here at the back of his neck, threes and touch the collar of his shirt. A loner most of the time, Brian had his own share of mental troubles with the disposition bordering on a personality disorder. He was prone to several bouts of depression. He could help but chuckle at the irony of doing his masters in a subject that concerned that part of human anatomy, that he had the most troubles with mind to deal with his troubles. Prime used to methods. The first was daydreaming. He would let his mind wander at just about every time whether he was in a bus standing in a queue or in the class, he would set himself on autopilot. He had mastered the art of dreaming with his eyes open and feeling attentiveness. No professor had ever found out about this habit of his second method was drugs. He did drugs and did it hard. Over the years, he had made friends with a very well guarded network out drug peddlers who supplied him with the best of the stuff and down. He was one of their genuine and regular customers. Of course, he had alcohol, especially Walker, as accompaniment. Drugs and alcohol would help him blow the lines of his existence. The existence which was devoid of love, the existence which was crippled by the bus, the existence so paralysed it made no sense to him to even alive. He had but one silver lining in the dark, murky clouds shouting his life. Gassman! This was not the name of the girl in question. Brian had given her the name Brian had given other name. Jasmine owned a small shop where she sold flowers. Every day After college, Brian would walk down Avenue Street and drink coffee at Johns that was adjacent to Jasmine's little floral shop. By people took the chair or looking the street, he would invariably set on the chair farthest away so he could watch Jasmine and hear her voice. He would sit there for hours for the why he was in front of him. Coffee felt better than all the alcohol in the world. He even contemplated leaving it all together for her sick.