The Re-U

U and U!

Re-U, rather.

September 2.

Not exactly a meet-up to which I looked forward.

Cut to 24 August.
Asmita and PM

"Yaar R ko dhundna hai.. Ab bata kaise?"

"Reunion karte hain apni class X ka. Isi bahane uska contact mil jayega."

"Sahi boss! Farewell ki poem nikal.. Us may sabke naam hain.. Chal dekh aur bata ki kis-kis ko contact karna hai."

"Yaar X ko nahi.. bahut bada chep tha. Y! Nahi yaar ye saala ladki soongh ke nikalta hai.. Z ko goli maar.. Aise duffero ko nahi bulana.."

26 August.
Vibhuti and PM

"O PM! Tu itne din baad! Chal re-U karte hain!"

"Bhenchod! Usi ke liye to baat karne aayi hu!"

"Karte hain yaar.. Bahut mazze ayenge yaar.. Sabko bulate hain yaar.. Vishal se milne ka mera bada dil hai yaar!"

"Great! R ka kucch ata-pata hai?"

"Nahi yaar.. Vishal Orkut pe hai na? Main V se kehti hu usse find karne ke liye."

"Yaar R ka bata.. Rohit wagerah ko bhi nahi pata hoga na?"

"Kal DAV chalte hain.. Waha se find out karte hain."

27 August

Said and done!

30 August
Ashish and PM

"Bhhai zara logo ko contact karke is Sunday ka bata de.."

"Kaha karna hai? McDonald's wagerah may koi nahi aane wala! Kisi disc wagerah may rakho. Main 1000 rupaye per head tak kara dunga."

"Baawda hai ke launde? 1000 rupaye kaun dega ham may se? McD ka bol!"

"Main bata raha hu tujhe zyada log nahi aayenge McD ke naam pe."

1 September

The whole re-U thing was out of my mind now. My ulterior motive behind initiating the whole process had been fulfilled. And by the kind of response we received from people, it was clear that we could expect only the losers who could anyway be caught wandering in my colony streets after 7 PM any day.

2 September 12:10 PM Ashish and PM

"Phone kyu nahi uthati tu?"

"Abhi uthi hu yaar."

"Abbey drame nahi.. McD pahuch aadhe ghante may."

"Kaun kaun aa raha hai?"

"Rohit Jain, Akshay, Mohit, Mittal, Ajay, Rohit Anand, etc etc etc"

"Chal aati hu.. Vibhuti ko le ke aaungi, thoda late ho jayega."


Vibhuti and Vidhi picked from respective places. Divya off to Haridwar.

McDonald's 1:30 PM
We were wary. After all, we were about to reunite with people who could easily be dubbed the loafers. Ten minutes down the line and our apprehensions were busted. They were not as bad as we had feared. In fact, they were good.

Now, over to the pictures.

Vidhi. She still looks as good or as bad as she did 5 years back! The next day was her birthday and she couldn't be more occupied with her thoughts. Her discomfort amidst the group [read Mohit with whom she has a pyar-muhabbat ka jhol for quite sometime now] in the absence of her alleged boyfriend Rohit Anand was too evident to hide.


Vibhuti. The Real Slim Shady. One woman always fussed up about her apparently straight hair [or the lack of it], make-up and clothes. She left no chance to declare how serious she was about Vishal at one time, how casually she wears such dresses, how glad she was to meet all the people, how strong she's going with her current flame, where we should hold the next re-U, what Asmita missed by didn't coming and so on.

PS: I'm not going to give any of her contacts to you guys!

Jitender and Vishal. Well people have been mistaking Jitender for some Uncle for quite sometime now. He's grown into a well-informed and intelligent man now. He maintains a journal where he has recorded the silliest of things we people used to do in class X. So cruel!

Vishal. Mera bachpan ka dushman! We had a very stiff competition between us for the first slot in the class. We were quite cordial now although his uneasiness because of Vibhuti's over-friendliness was more than visible on his face.

Rohit Jain. The heir to the Jain Dairy. Quite a regular on roads nowadays. One of the people who allegedly blew up 1800 bucks on booze after this meet. Tried his best to entertain people with his still-so-dumb jokes and one-liners.

PS: Some 8 years back he proclaimed to be a SRK lookalike.




Ashish Gupta. The karta-dharta behind this get-together which might not be possible without his excellent contacts. His jokes could be categorised with Rohit spare a few laughs they managed to elicit. Quite the same mongrel he was when in X. Looks like a boar, speaks like hogs.



Raman. Was never really friendly with him all the time we were in school. Things change in time. I won't say we became great friends or even friends, but we did share relaxed words.





Charu nee Dinesh aka Shah ji. Hamari class ke namoone. Renowned for his lanky frame and slippery tongue. Has evolved over the years but not out of the real Charu-type he is.




Naveen. Nikka Tayal. Heir to the Rajdhani Stationers [his cousin and our classmate Praveen is heir to the Rajdhani Undergarments.] Didn't open up much.




Ankit Mittal. The apparent stud. Still the playboy we had 5 years ago. One of the "factors" that made Vibhuti feel "comfortable".





Ajay Shankar. Mr. Quiet. Hardly interacted with anyone. Wonder if he was providing Vidhi company in missing his good ol' friend Rohit Anand.





Rishabh and Mohit. Rishabh was one person I was always in touch with although not out of choice [he's my sister's "best friend's" brother]. Mohit the bandi boy was evidently uncomfortable in Vidhi's presence. These few guys had lobbied at the other end of the table so we really didn't get to speak to each other much.



Vibhuti appears so keen! I leave this for her to interpret according to her whims and fancies, ahem!






Numbers and e-mails circulated. Promises to stay in touch. Some laughs over the game of Truth And Dare. Old flames rekindled [well, at least one.]. Large cokes. Was it good? Can't say no.

The Call

"Hiii Vibhuti, kaisi hai tu yaar?!"

"Hi, R. Main badiya. Tu bata?"

"Bas badiya. Aur bata?"

"Err R. Main Prateeksha bol rahi hu."

"Prateeksha bol rahi hai. Prateeksha bol rahi hai??"

"Haan! To kya main to hamesha se hi bolti thi."

"Uhh, main tujhse call expect nahi kar raha tha. Waise mujhe to yaad bhi nahi aayi thi Vibhuti!"

"Aur main?"

"Haaaan, tu to yaad hai yaar."

"Accha ji, kyun?"

"Kucch exceptional students to yaad hi rehte hain!"

BHENCHOD!~!

There wasn't an another occasion for me to accomplish this task. It would have kept coming back to haunt me. I tightened my shoes, went to DAV and had my hand on his Burari number, finally.

"Main R se baat kar sakti hu? Actually main uski Dayanand ki classmate Vibhuti hu. Ham ek reunion plan kar rahe hain."

"R to 2 saal se Patna may reh rahe hain!"

CRASH!~!

Cut to the start. The New Delhi-Patna conference.

WELL, YEAH!~!

What do I want now? After calling up and discovering that now he's become a bigger and better dork. Am I glad that he's not in Delhi? Could I have felt really sorry for not having him around had he turned into a suave young gentleman? Is there still something that I wish to find out?

NOVEMBER'S COMING!~!

The Zahir

Stop haunting me.

It started as a fleeting thought. It turned into an obsession.

It's all getting hazy before the mist in my eyes. What do I see? Why isn't it you whom I see?

It's over me now. It's what I want to get now. It's what that will put me to rest, now.

You're a fucking fungus.

It's grown on me. Nourishing on my peace. Thriving on my security. Eating me from within. Wasting me. Leaving me with nothing but itself.

It cannot be seen, yet is everywhere around.

What if I never find you? Where will this circle terminate? Have you blessed me to decay in your wish?

End my pain. Come to me.

Dilemma of an MBA aspirant

The sight of young men and women clad in black and white every morning I take a tempo to my college sends shivers down my spine. No, they are not criminals let loose. They are students pursuing MBA at NIEC. Since I'm a participant of this milling race, I can't count heads but the fact that an MBA is what every second graduate aspires to do cannot be discounted.

I shudder at the thought of being in these kids' shoes [or pre-Eastman wardrobe] someday. Allright, I'm pursuing B. Tech here. But I wonder, will mediocrity take over aspiration in the course of four years? Will I also be left amongst "I aim at crack CAT" junta? Does being at a low-rung college guarantee that I've nothing left to look forward?

Somewhere within myself, I know I'll discover the answers as time will unwrap itself. In my favour? Let's see!

Today..?

It is a good day today. Are you feeling happy, R?

Pigeons are flying away from a terrace that I see from this window. Will you wave at me standing there?

Sun has shied behind the clouds. It's a soothing breeze that's coming to us. Are you somewhere around?

It's raining now. Do you remember how you were scolded by Rashmi Mam when you exclaimed at the sudden drizzle?

I don't get a word out of the sludge removal this woman is reading out. I can hear Bryan Adams singing "Here I Am." Will you sing me a song?

I'm wearing a suit after ages today. The salwar is too long for me to walk properly. Will you compliment me?

I cannot hold myself surther in this room. I wish to prance on the terrace, arms outstretched, singing in overwhelmed spells of happiness gone out of control. Will you join me?

Come today, R..

Toh Phir Aao..

Why are you coming back to me now?

After so many falls, so many Diwalis, Adnan Sami's music, countless trips to Burari, scores of good faces and nice voices, years after the farewell, eons after I last saw you.

Why now?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It refused to go off my mind. His thought. The fantasy to meet him again. Free my soul, o Demon! You won't let me live in my mind.

The breeze was piercing through me.

I was being pushed by a brute force. Back into the past. Nothing to which I could cling to save myself. My vision went out of focus.

Haze and mist. Everywhere around me.

It could certainly not be August, 2007.

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Giggles and groans. Kids copying C & D solutions from Hawa's notebook. Vidhi sitting amidst a circle playing truth-and-dare. Mahesh desperately attempting to "patao" the chic next class. Vishal and Vibhuti fooling around. Prateeksha and Nancy whispering into each other's ears. Eyes searching someone.

The wait for him to enter the class. The prayer to catch him on the way the day I ran late for the class. The itch to know what his name meant. The wish to have him around in casuals on the Teacher's Day and farewell. Watching him giggle. The twinkle in his brown eyes. The pit on the cheek. That peculiar way to walk dragging shoes on the floor with stiff shoulders. An out-and-out dumb smile over the most stupid/embarrassing jokes. A sudden interest in accompanying my Dad to his Burari office quite regularly. Science board exam when he came on a bike.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Take this away from me.

Or come back.

I must surpass this juncture. To reach out. To you.

Where R you?

Tamtamatam tamtam tara!

Here's to Niharika Tamta!

A chunk of those who're reading this at the moment already know about this Superwoman. And those who don't and are interested, read on my dears and discover for yourself. Those uninterested, in Niharika's style, scoot off!

July 11, 2007.
Model Town-III bus stop
Around 11 AM

I was almost in a hustle to catch a bus to reach the Vishwavidyalaya station. My dodo Priyanka would be waiting for me at CP so I had to hurry up as much as possible to reach DU and catch a metro. The scene at the bus stop was queer. An unusually large crowd was waiting for buses. "Shayad is time bheed hoti hogi, main to bahut time se nikli nahi is time bahar." There were people attempting to get into occupied three-wheelers, others giving a thumb to passers-by on vehicles for lift and scores of others dangling off the scant buses that whizzed by.

BLUE LINE STRIKE!

The worst thing to happen in Delhi. The DTC fleet is neither sufficient nor efficient enough to cope up with Delhi's demand. And whatever the media say about the "killer line", they cannot deny the fact that DTC kill just as much, if not lesser, number of poeple under their wheels.

Cut the crap!

So here I was stranded with apparently no mode of transport to reach my destination 4 kms. away from where I was positioned. Autos demanded astronomical fares, cycle rickshaws outright refused to go this far and buses were sighted as often as Haley's comet. Frustrated, I decided to walk my way.

Walk my way??

It could be a tad tiring as well as boring to go all the way on myself [though I have a music phone to accompany me]. Why not take someone along!

So here was this woman in white standing pretty aloof from the rest of the crowd. Cropped hair, fair skinned and well-built. "Let me hit on her."

"What are you waiting for? A bus?"
"Uh, nooo. An auto."
"Take my word. Nothing's gonna come. There's a bus strike and autos are out of supply."
"Then what are you gonna do?"
"Walk my way."
"Allright, I'll come by."

And then the 3 kilometre walk [we took a cycle rickshaw at Hakikat Nagar to DU station]. She turned out to be a NIFT student. We talked of a deal of things under the sun [I had the umbrella open, though!] ranging from her Hampi documentary to my engineering through BMMMC, Delhi crime and my documentary. She appeared to be a woman who knew at least a thing or two about almost everything, very zealous about her trade, highly opinionated and an utterly chilled-out person with the most "amazing vocabulary" [pun strictly intended] I'd come across so far.

Cut the crap!

The whole narration was just for the record. And the event was just the beginning of many more good times to come [can't say about you Tamta but I relished EACH bloody moment with you THOROUGHLY]. Since then, we've met some 3-4 times and with each meet, I just can't help growing fond of this woman.

She will now doubt if I'm straight.

Kick me later.

Niharika. Gorgeous. Funny cropped-chopped hair. Beautiful kohl-lined grand eyes. Infectious smile with buck teeth. The perfect advisor. The perfect counsellor. Magical capacity to make you distinguish amongst shades of shit [read make you feel better even though you're in a whirlpool]. Impeccable sense of style. Better when it come to giving tips and suggestions. Eveready to go out and kill time. Laughs in roars. Has to be kept away from food. Could convert to Buddhism anytime in future. Would love to be size 2. Ultimate commentator. "Bwahahahaha saali fraud!". Absof*ckinglutely adorable.

More cheese, Tamta?

Love you woman!

PS: Sorry for adulterating with your style but you see, our pseudo-refined society wouldn't really wish to read this our way. And it's for them, you jerk!

First lecture at college

First lecture at college. Ah!

Northern India Engineering College, EEE and MAE block.
August 7, 2007. 10:30 AM

This occurrence elicits an entirely different set of reactions from the fucchhas (somewhat similar to how we might react while getting married too). Nervous smiles (since we've no idea what's in store), hopeful and beaming eyes (because we're so excited about starting something altogether new), the prim and proper attire and a pinch of nostalgia (as we sit again in a class, although no more as a school kid).

I definitely was no exception. Though there were no butterflies in stomach, I still somehow was excited and anxious simultaneously. And the ragging session that was in full swing when I entered the class only helped in aggravating the slightly tense mood. Our College Director proved God-sent when he took the mongrel out of our class.

Enter Mr. Avdesh Singh, our Manufacturing Process professor. I prefer calling it ManPro, thanks to Chetan Bhagat who has made the name so glamorous! I had no problem in identifying his as a teacher. I've had a stint with teachers who don't really look like teachers! With no prejudice towards Mr. Avdesh, my sole point is that his frail frame and young appearance belied the fact that he's an engineering professor!

But yes, appearances are grossly deceptive. Ten minutes into the lecture and I knew he's one person who knows his job well. I found him a teacher with crystal clear concepts and skilled enough to put his point right in your brain. Since it was our first tryst with him, we were asked to introduce ourselves, the syllabus was dictated and references were read out. We did get an idea of what ManPro is all about. Materials, patterns and moulds, casting, couching, what not!

The class ends.

Since this lecture, I've sat in some 10 another lectures. And frankly, there hasn't been another lecture that gave me the feel of being an engineering disciple. Some of them seemed a recap of class XII lessons, some were straight out of class V Science book and others too cheerful [read English one] to be dubbed as an engineering subject.

My first lecture has indeed fueled my aspiration to become an engineer!

C H I M P

You own a Porsche, you fear being rammed by a blueline.

You talk of Dante and Coelho, you still poke your finger in your nose.

You organise business conferences, you still beg your partner to bed.

Pizzas and sushi for all meals, you still eject the same excreta as the one who eats onion and bread.

You might live in a penthouse overviewing the Manhattan/Mumbai skyline, your eventual abode will be a 4' X 7' slot three feet beneath the earth.

Why act high then?

C H I M P is the way!

| P E A C E |

In the tanks and ICBMs..

In Yoga and Pranayam..

In sermons and namaaz..

The doves and the olives.
After the end-sems. After attending the nature's call. In a deep bite of Cadbury. Over the hills. In the mustard fields. Watching the sunrise. A violin's whisper. The twinkle in a puppy's eye. Letting the balloons off from hands. Pigeons landing and taking off. The view of the city from a high-rise at the night time. Walking on dew in the morning.

I am here. I'm Real.

Rewind Mode

I find it sort of weird.

I'm logged into Orkut for past three hours and not a single scrap has strayed by my scrapbook. Not that it's bad. I got a chance to go through scores of profiles, realise how inane people can be, balked at stoopid pictures, posted on my blog, made a new profile and yes, read a few blogs.

So, what's weird?!

I went through two blogs all this while. One by Lady Tamta. I was surprised! The kick-ass lady has something to write that could be loosely associated with sentiments. I don't intend to say that she's cold but let me be frank, I was quite startled to read her "emotions".
The second one was by my old and really good friend Ayan's [no prejudice against Ayan, he writes fabulous!] brother Abhishek's blog. Boy! What marvellous writing skills! He expresses the routine day-to-day occurrences in a very interesting and beholding manner. Pray he goes on despite his tremendously busy schedules.

But what's the point??

That people, however grown-up or tough, don't leave their fantasies behind. That their desire to capture the sweet nothings into words doesn't fade away with time. That one can be a Man/Woman without losing the carefree instinct.

---------------------

Just yesterday, my friends Ayan and Gautam pointed it to me. Why don't I write fantasy creative stuff anymore? "Because I've grown up. Time has matured me." However, the question haunted me when I sat down to write my daily journal at night. How big have I become? How mature have I grown? How frigid has time rendered me?

This afternoon, I took out a long book which was deeply buried under the stack of my big, fat books. At one time, I used this book as a journal where I used to record my creative writings, random muses and vague ideas. Way back in 2005. When I was a fresh graduate from school. I had just joined McDonald's that time and was on the verge of experiencing an altogether different life.

My life till the time I was in school never stretched beyond books and some single friend of mine. I had never hung around in a gaggle of "friends", hardly been to cinema, never even heard of Sarojini or any other shop spot or even interacted with boys. The sole sink for me to vent out my emotions was paper. And I regularly expressed my fear of facing the world, reservations against people, inhibition to move out of my shell in that register.

And then I grew up.

The things I learnt from McD, my failure at engineering entrances, the one-year stint at IP did a lot to me. I grew tougher so that I could resist any upheaval. I became practical so that I didn't take sh*t from anybody. I turned smarter so that I could chalk out the path for a beaming crackling future. And lost the "creativity" somewhere down the line.

Now what?

Cannot really say. I wish and I'll strive to get the urge to write fancy back. And Ayan could well be my role model!

26 September, 2005

September 26, 2005

"Gautam is my friend!" I picked up my rucksack and made my way out of that dungeon. None can make you breathe if you're obstinate on committing suicide. She will cry gallons, develop motley patterns under her eyes, flunk in term papers, get banished from friend circle but will not let go off Gautam. Amby was not willing to lend anyone an ear. How was I bothered!

The world started pressing on me. I was feeling glum for seemingly no reason. I felt as if everyone at Belmont Square was eying me and scrutinising every single flutter of my lashes. I felt as if anybody even faintly smiling was poking fun at me. I presumed every glance at me as an attempt to disintegrate my mental composition to crumbs. I felt humiliated, trepidated, delirious, queer, pixilated, inhuman..

The neighbourhood McD served as the perfect refuge. I banged in [literally into a guy carrying a crate of trays] and took a sigh of relief. I grabbed my meal and took a seat in the extreme corner of the restaurant. Pairs are made in heaven. I realise this each time when I look at my coke and fries repast. I thanked Mrs. Kerry heartily for all the Heinz and Happiness her existence provides me. John has some substance for sure.

And then, I heard some vivacious noise from the first floor. A birthday party was in full swing. I got nostalgic. I wished to step into Griffith's shoes for a jiffy. I wanted to savour the proceedings of the celebration as an invisible spectator. I wanted to join those cheerful people in merry-making without their knowledge. Happiness was my long lost friend.

I was travelling back into time. Memories that I had abandoned in my subconscious mind became explicit scenes. That Preet Vihar house, quarrelsome parents, isolated childhood, Nirula's sundaes after annual results, "nerd, jerk, dullard", rejection, betrayal, boycott from society for asserting my choice, scholarship to study at MIT.. Seventeen years revisited in seventeen shakes.

I would have been a philosopher had I not been a diligent budding engineer and a loyal McD employee. People take to philosophy when either they are fed up of life or life is fed up of them. It is so easy to put sophisticated idea into eloquent words and then sell them to half-with Yankees under a fancy cover. Due apologies to Mr. Deepak Chopra. How simple is it to say that solitude is man's best company, one has to seek pleasure from within. Only if it was that simple for the heart to understand. I sometimes wish I was a sim0ple, emotionless biological entity.

It was time. I towed myself out of the grandly air-conditioned lobby to reach the dust-decorated, gasoline-scented pavement. Each step of mine burdened my heart with the load of another earth. Feelings got subjugated, emotions became auxiliary, senses mortified. My mind was numb.

I had never felt so small.


The two mile distance seemed like a journey stretching over lifetimes. I was finally at my 56th floor balcony with my mug of hot chocolate. Roads, buildings, horizon; everything I laid my eyes on was glittering. I felt so high, so close to the pearl-studded sky. The integral illuminated sky healed my heart. A delicate breeze soothed my body. The radiant moonlight nourished my soul. I felt extolled, encouraged, determined, composite, satiated, human..

It's a new day! [Behind the scenes]

July 28

It's incredible! I still cannot believe I've finally made it! In fact, the euphoria I experienced on the announcement of result was actually 1 ppm of what I felt today. Being frank, a lot went in the successful fruition of this endeavour than just my hardwork and Allah's perpetual grace. Through this piece of writing, I only wish to reinstate my feeling of heart-felt thankfulness and gratitude towards people who have bailed me out through the toughest of times while I was en route my journey.

[Note: The following note is just a sketchy acknowledgment piece. Don't expect trivial yet meaningful details!]

1. Family!
Had it not been for my Ma, I would simply have never even taken the first step. She was the one who constantly saved me from all doubtful glances, skeptical remarks and didn't object when I studied Physics a day before my Visual Communication paper!

Boy, whose perennial stories about how her "best friend" is running after the 167th guy in the town, how her "bachpan ka friend" pesters her to find chicks for him and how her "nayi saheli" bugs her through the night through the free messaging scheme she has got. One stress buster she is!

And my beta, my little quadruped. I wonder how people could actually fear or detest dogs! They are the best creation of the nature, most selfless and extremely friendly by nature. My baby did enough stupid but funny acts to cheer me up after a hard day.


1. Abhishek

Mera Punter! How I constantly bugged him by telling I'm feeling so low-I won't be able to make it-I just can't get through this question-Kaisa paper aayega-I won't go back to BMMMC-phew! no word of thanks is enough for you, dood!

1. Deepak

How could I forget how he managed me when I was shattered after my GGSIPU exam. Aah! That was one day, when I literally gave up the idea to study further, appear for DCE-CEE and blanched at the idea of being back to BMMMC. It was he who listened to my insuppressible howling and wailing and cheered me up.

1. Disha
My cousin who was simultaneously preparing for her Medical entrances, her sheer grit and untiring hard work latently pushed me to stretch myself beyond the acute limits in which i functioned. Graciously, she has reached her destination too now.

1. Two of my elder cousins
These were the people who constantly opposed my decision to prepare for engineering exams. They felt that BMMMC [Mass Comm and journalism, for the uninitiated] was the best choice for me to make my career. Ironically, they are NSIT graduates! I had to keep the fact that I'm preparing for exams under wraps from them. The feeling of reluctance and displeasure clearly showed on their faces while they congratulated me for making it.

1. My kids at IP


Ah! My babies they are! They were my haven whenever IP got too much of me. They are cute, they are dumb, they are funny and above all, they are adorably lovely. Love you my bacchas!

1. BMMMC
One big thing. Had I been in Miranda House pursuing Chem (H) or any damn thing in the world, I KNOW I could never make it. All the "tortures" that were inflicted upon me, the soul-less hollow people around me [not all of them, you bet!] and the useless activities I HAD to do for a year were a good catalyst and propellant in thrusting me further to achieve what I wanted to.

1. Priyanka

My sweet little baby-like Dodo. Oh! We undertook a common journey at the same time and emerged victorious out of it. Those long chats over our preparation status, those dreams of leaving I Pee for a good college [read with boys] and the great times we've spent together! She's one of the best things that have happened to me at I Pee.

1. Sujata

My good Samaritan. Angel in disguise. The Allah sent. No more words for her. For it would be denigrating what she has done for me. :)



Don't conclude this to be exhaustive. A lot more went into the making of an engineer than what just shows here. ;)

Somewhere in the vast stretches of Punjab

Amidst those seamless mustard fields

The silky sunshine, the aromatic breeze

Orange tarred horizon blending with carpet of yellow

Whiff of fresh life infused in each breath

The fertile lands, the virile skies

I close my eyes
I see nothing.

And I realise,
After being here, there's nothing that needs be seen...

This is inspired by my new-but-it-seems-ages-old friend Niharika, whose blog fueled me to attempt something as insane as she's expert at doing.

I'll make this clear in the beginning itself: This might sound outrageously incredible to the people who already know me and outstandingly dumb to the people who don't.

Mine was the regular gulli ka school where I had studied [and topped] from UKG. I've always been the introverted kind, the shy girl who's plain not interested in making more than one friend at a time, no gossiping/giggling/sharing tiffin at lunch time, no interest in going for the movies/"playing outside" [geez, don't snare, "us zamane may aisa hota tha!"] and as must be quite obvious, no boys. Add to it, skirt that hung four inches below knees, shirt neatly tucked [or better, pulled] in, oil-smeared hair pulled back into a tight pony [yeah relief! I didn't make a "choti"!] and braces on teeth. Did you say, guys?

This dates back to July, 2002 when I was in class X. Since X was the seniormost class in our galli ka school and anyway being a Board class, we had special "privileges." No stupid assemblies [where we had to perform some circus like aerobics], no co-curricular activities and no standing in the balcony, lest the men harass the fugly little girls. And being the most intelligent kid of the school [no exaggerations], I was constantly under scrutiny. Expectations were tremendous since my immediate seniors, who were super brilliant in the school, could not do well in Boards.

So here was our little champ with her oily hair and oily face, soaked in books day after day. I did manage to score 100% attendance till class IX when I got braces. So a trip to AIIMS and thus, a leave per week became my routine.

26 July. Or almost this date.

I had taken a day off from school on the 25th for my weekly appointment with my cute-young-unmarried- all-fair-rotund bellied-burping orthodontist. As usual I was sitting immersed in a maths book when Nancy [who soon grew to be a very close friend] and Vibhuti interrupted.

"P, kal R tere baare may pooch raha tha.."
"R, kyun?"
"[smug smile on face] Hame kya pata! Miss kar raha tha shayad."
"[red oily face] Maine to kabhi usse baat bhi nahi ki!"

Disperse.

I came home amused. After all, what happened today was certainly beyond my digestive power [i know you agree, after knowing how i was!]. I had never exchanged a word or a glance with this guy who had come to my class from the other section just 4 months back. To share a little secret, I had noticed this guy in class IX when one fine day I discovered he had a 10000 watt smile [at that time, I felt his smile resembled the one a model flashed in a Cinthol saabun ad]. And strangely enough, he was cute too! Not the conventional cute. He was dark, flashed a dimple, an amazing smile and pronounced "sa" as "sha" and the vice-versa!

But the Question remained! What happened to him!
I was sure, no guy can "fall" for someone like me [even if it's only puppy love at that stage of life!]. I had never got a hint from the male species throughout the 15 years of my life that I could be considered attractive/pretty/interesting. Then what happened!

I returned to class the next day, only with a different frame of mind. As they say, your eyes see what your heart wants to believe. Somehow my heart wanted my eyes to see him. They were out on a prowl to detect the faintest gesture that could be deemed from him to my side. And yes, I noticed him noticing me! Boy! Was I joyous!

** I precautioned it's all lame **

School now became something I looked forward to. Each morning was filled with excitement. I never knew, he might just talk to me that day! And each afternoon was either all the more exciting, if I could secure a few glances, or highly grub, in case he turned absent or didn't care enough for me. He used to come by a public bus, which was quite unusual for our galli ka school, so he used to mostly late.

And there my friends was the opportunity when we used to do caste a look on each other! He'd come late and by that time the class would have begun. He'd knock at the door, sport an utterly sheepish yet very pleasant smile and the teacher would [obviously!] let him in. He'd take his seat bang at the end of the class [since that remained the only unoccupied territory by the time the conquest of the Social Science teacher began] and looking at me while he made his way.

My reaction was related directly proportional to my dumbness [or confidence?!] that day. If I'd be feeling good, I'd keep my gaze stuck at him intently from the instant he stood at the door. In other cases, I'd simply look away or into the book.

Rains were now special. I don't know why but I had this sudden outburst of happiness whenever it rained.

November 2002, Diwali

Adnan Sami's first album had released. Can't say if it had to do something with the state of my mind [I had always been the one lost in her own thoughts and songs] but the songs struck some cord with me. I still hum [ahem!] these lines with utmost fondness:

Dil keh raha hai dil se, waada karo dil se...
Chahe tum jaha bhi jaana janam, meri yaad rakhna...

Anytime in December/January

No, nothing developed [did it ever have to!] 'twix us. And I had this intuition that what I always wanted to might never happen. After all, we were in a conservative school, where kids had primordial notions about "love" and friendship, where the "lovebirds" were dealt very strictly with and the sole emphasis being on studies. In all the days that passed between that date and this date, we shared a few more looks, some useless and fruitless words and a seat too!

I shouldn't miss out on this hillariously super-stupid incident!

Social Science exam answer sheets were being distributed in the class. I was comfortably seated on my one-seater chair since there was time before my roll number was to be called out. R, the Mr. Ants In Pants, was hovering around Mam only to peep into everybody's marks [now don't tell me, everyone does this!]. When my turn finally came, hr grasped the paper to relay it to me. However, I had already raeched the teacher's place by then and I almost angrily [!] snatched it from him. Poor boy! He shook his hand as if he got an electricity shock [uh, no pun intended!]!

Days flew by. The day for the farewell came. He didn't turn up.

February 22, the Informal Farewell

Getting farewell notes and signatures on uniform was a taboo in our school. So we had diaries, slam books, even pieces of paper afloat amongst our batchmates and teachers to get their "final" words for us. Here's what "an entry" in my diary read:

The person who recognises his or her weaknesses at right time is best in this world.

Duh! Nothing that day either.

July 20, 2007

It's been a long time. I've never been to my school in all these years. As heard two years back, R had gone back to his village. Last heard, he's in Delhi pursuing some Commerce course. I don't know if I wish to meet him again. I don't know how would I react if I ever meet him again. I don't know if destiny decrees our paths to ever intercross again..