Nothing Official About It

It is a difficult time these days for students.With the vacations coming to an end and the looming threat of returning to the routine mess of school/college beginning to peek its head,kids are irksome.So am I.I take the honor to inform you that I have just taken my admission into the Second Year Bachelorship of Arts.I am lucky to have been taken once more.But what i intend to narrate is not th admissione but the journey to get it.

After receiving the astounding and fantastically unbeleivable success in my final exams,I thought my parents would be a little appreciative of me.But all I got in return was "You sure didn't copy??".right.So much for hard work.The next two days went by in the joyful wishing of friends and neighbours.then came the D-day.Admission.The night before admission has always been difficult for me.That owes its origin to the fact that I am not the most orderly humans amongst you.Often my preparations for the documents happen in real chaotic fashion.I would dive into my dark,cavernous shelf and try to emerge with all documents from inside it.Many of them would hide themselves in the most oblivious fashion.and more often than not,my xerox copies would have been used by my mother as covers for her 'pakodas'.So after spending about 6 hrs in the previous night it would be really bad if you wake up the following morning and find out that somethingis missing.All this done,I got into the train hoping nothing would go missing on the journey to the college.

The management of the college has only one opportunity to extract revenge for the last year.Therefore,they are in the most invincible form on admission day.As i got into the prayer hall with my friends i was early.Beforehand there were certain news that we had to pay the fee in Demand Draft.I,obviously,had remained closed ears to that.I had carefully brught cash to the college in the hope that they would accept it.In the corridor to the hall,we were accosted by some of our 'long lost' teachers.Oe of them caught us by the scruff of our necks and demanded to know our results.Seeing mine,she gave me a deep incisive look.As we alked on,she was still looking at me.c'mon guys,can't a boy like me pass?Anyways,I got to the hall and joined the long,snaking line to the clerks table in order to get my form examined.As my turn came,the clerk looked up.he was a bald pated.heavily mustachioed man of fifty with a evil look in his eye.I gave him my form,hoping that it would be right.He took a long look at it.He stopped at my surname,and asked me to spell it.It is quite embarassing to spell my surname,we south indians do have quite a few miles to our name.After the dreadfully long name,he said ok.Hapily I went down to the office to pay and get myself enrolled.I encounered another long line of haggled and harassed students before me.I spent about fifteen minutes before i reached the counter.As i reached out to pay the fee,the clerk informed me of his inability to accept cash.What impeccable timing!I immediately had to rush out in search of a bank that would beleive me and offer me a Demand Draft.

The catch in the situation was that the draft would have to be issued by a nationalised bank.There are few nationalised banks around our college.One refused to allow me in saying they issue drafts only at 2 pm.I guess my mom's theory of "RAHU KAAL' is beleived ny a lot of people.I rushed to another one.before I could enter a huge crowd of students had already posted themselves at every possible counter.I decided to get in any which ways and look for the form.After a few unanswered queries,I found the right form.So i joined the queue of about twenty students .After a few days...sorry hours,I got out of the bank with the DD in hand.
I reached college.By this time,the line a the office had grown as long as Rapunzel's hair.I wouldn't have known so many people to study in my college if it were not for this line before my eyes.As slowly as the line snaked forward,my stomach began to rumble.I had left home at about 7 in the morning,an ominous time to be awake.I hadn't had breakfast,and was definitely going to miss lunch.I was not alone in such times of trouble.A few of my friends were discretely sending smelly and noxious airs from their behind into the already warm atmosphere. and conspicuously looking at each other.Moreover,the line was held up at the front by girls,who as always,get to the first and stay there for a very long time.If these troubles were not enough,we had to fight groups of 'friends' who would arrive and try to displace you,or bribe you to take them in the line.It was almost as if we were fighting a war on our empty stomachs.

By the time i reached the counter,i was paining in all places.right at that moment,the PC went kaput!!Boy,did a commotion rise from the students corner.But then it was soon silenced with a simple word - rustication.Well,whoever wanted to get rusticated before being enrolled?I waited there,silent as a charlie chaplin movie.after a endlessly long wait of 20 minutes, my form was accepted and I was finally a student of this college.As i was venturing out,the clerk shouted behind me " check the office out.You won't be here for a long time from now!!" Was he right!!!

Strange Encounters With A Stranger Kind

It is often that i meet strangers whose names i do not know.But it is not very often that i meet a 'pretty' stranger whose name i would like to know,but still do not know.Yesterday was one such occassion.I got into the train as usual.After a while of haggling and harassing,i moved into the calmer confines of the compartment.I took my place between the first row.My front seats were occupied by only three people instead of the usual four.I guessed the inevitable reason for that was a pretty girl sitting right between her 'brother'(optimism) or boyfriend(bad luck).I hoped it would be the former.She was busy reading a news paper so i tried to occupy myself with a fight going on the outside.

After a few stops,i got a seat right opposite her(Must've been my lucky day).I tried hard not to keep staring.But on the contrary,I found her stealing glances at me.Now that almost killed me.All my life i've spent as an 'Use and Throw' piece.Girls only came to talk to me if they had an assignment to do or to make their boyfrieds jealous.This was a first for me.Unfortunately,i did not have any prior experience in how to commence friendlies.That task was made even more difficult by the muscular young man sitting right next to her.I decided to throw in my best shot.I have always found that a good book attracts more peope than glib talking.I picked my book("The Last Mughal") out of the bag and started reading.But still those secretive looks kept coming.By now I was thoroughly bothered.

I mustered enough courage to say 'Hi", on the most optimistic hope that she ought to know me if she kept staring like that.fortunately for me she blinded me with a huge smile.

"I almost thought you didn't recognise me",she said.

Dammit."Of course not.How are you?Long time no see?"

"Oh yeah.We have moved to Thane.That happened after school.",she solemnly replied.

Right,when did i see you in school."Oh! so what are you doing nowadays.seen any of our schoolmates."

"Oh no!Been very busy.Am preparing for the exams...Engineering.Haven't had time to do much socializing."

beauty with brains,now those are as rare as they come;-).

" So,what are you doing?"

Just wasting time."Oh you know,just this and that." very suave,houdini.

By this time,the jock beside her had his face contorted between a smile and a clenched jaw.
she turned to him and said,"This is Houdini.He was in my class in school.Houdini,this is my brother."

Great!!why do girls have to have somebody in accompaniment when they talk to me.BFs,GFs, and Brothers.Do I have the look of serial killer that they do not find it safe to talk me alone."Oh HI.what do you do?"as if i care

" I am dong my MBA".he spoke.

EMM-BEEE-AYE.so smart ain't he." Hmm.That i s good.Your future looks mint-y fresh,does't it?"

Unfortunately,he did not get the joke."Which college are you in?",he asked.

"KJ Somaiya."

" Doing what??"

what is it with you? I am not answering an interview here."Arts."

"any future plans",he wisely questioned.

Heavens,I ain't asking for your sister's hand in marriage for you to find out my economic prospects." plan to go into journalism"

"that sounds exciting",this time she said.

By this time their stop had arrived.They silently got up and wished me good luck and all other proprieties.I said the same."Call me some time.",they said.

call you what,miss..." Sure.I will"

As she went forward her brother turned to me.Now,I was a bit apprehensive.How could you not be with a guy who is 6ft tall,has the built of a bull-dog and wears a tshirt that says 'Don't Mess with ME'

He stuck his penetrating red eyes on to my face and said in a slow,hushed voice,"You didn't know her,did you??"

Now what should I have said then...."Of course not" or " You're right".

All I said was " see ya later." That was the most honest thing that I had said that hour.

In The End

So I woke up yesterday and found out that my results were coming out.Grumbling,I got out of bed and looked up at the watch.It showed a skewed time of 9:30.dammit!why is it that whenever you want mom to wake you,she is busy.I rush to the bathroom and do my morning chore.I looked into the mirror and was stared back by a unruly haired,unshaved dervish.I would have gone anyways to college,but mom came back and stared at me with such dangerous eyes.I know her,and in such times it is better not to mess with her.

I called up my class mate on the way and asked him if he knew what today was.He was clueless.After i informed him,he was on his way to college.I caught the train,fought my way hrough the crowd and reached college by a quarter to 11.I was dumbstruck to find that the results were coming out by 3 to 5 pm in th evening.There i stood .sweating like I had just been to colombia,outside my college entrance with all other students comfortably roaming round with their Gfs and Bfs.I was pissed off,real bad.Before leaving ,I called up my "On the way" classmate to ask him where he was.Looks like he was still in bed.he had a valid reason.Who wants to see a bad result,and anyways i could check out for him.He gave me his roll.I told him it was on the NH list."whats NH!??",he asked.I screamed back,"NOT HERE!!!"

I went back to lounge at my cousin's place nearby.I am lucky that people have houses nearby.At about 3:30,when my cousin decided if I didn't leave now he would call the police I left.I reached college by about 4 'o clock.I spotted a few dorks hanging around.I carefully ventured up to them and asked if their fates had been pronounced.All I got was a blank look.Some people are more stupid than they look.After a little time,the notice board announced that the results will be here by 5pm.Gr88!!extend it for a few more hours and i will have a day more of enjoyment.

It was 5 and te crowd outside the college was swelling by the second.The entrance almost resembled a railway station.Suddenly,the peons came out with two small,rectangular notice-boards.The rush was inevitale.For the first time,i realised people are interested in knowing their results.There were students,all over the place.Screaming,kicking,crying....well,not crying but with various expressions.My friends stayed back for the moment.I could not.I had to ripp my result off the board before somebody else sees it.I entered the crowded ring.I don't have much strength or muscles on me(unless you count 5 cm biceps),but I have travelled on crowded trains for ages now.I pushed and scratched and bit my way through.As I reached the board,it said "FYBCOM" in big capitals.Now people revenged,i was thrown out like Saurav ganguly from the indian team.But like the name,I made a comeback.Seeing a crowd on the other end of the gate,I rushed in again.I realised too late,that the high-pitched screams tearing my ears apart were from the feminine gender.I was staring at the girls results.before I could be accused of something and end up in jail,my mates dragged me out of a clawing and murderous crowd.

I looked sheepishly at them,trying to hide my embarassment."Lucky you!!" a friend winked.Right!!But where in hell's name was my result.By now,I was streaming in sweat.Hell would have felt like home.suddenly one of my classmates turned ro me and said," Have you tried that one out yet??".I hadn't noticed a smaller crowd near another column of the gate.I went there,hurt and tired.nothing could be worse now,i thought.I searched minutely for my number.I found it.A look of terror came acrss my face.My bowels had begun to revolt.I had a nauseating feeling .My friends couldn't beleive their eyes.

I had passed "FIRST CLASS".I didn't beleive it.Neither did mom and dad when I told them.They still wat to see that marksheet before lending credibility to my account.Unfortunately,I do not have that proof in my hand.I will only get it day after tomorrow.

The Past,The Future And Me

Together they made a very strange picture.Almost as if they were in a dimension between to worlds.A 3yr old boy standing,crying besides his sleeping grandmother.It would have made an award winning photograph.The boy;his little hands clasped together as if holding an imaginary candy bar,tears running down his dirty cheek into his wide open mouth;and his grandmother,who looked no different than the rags she wore,sleeping on the pavement.

I don't know why the li'l guy was crying.Maybe because he was hungry and his granny was carelessly sleeping.Or maybe because she was dead and he didn't know what to do.I didn't know which one was it.My ears couldn't take his bawling,which according to me would have shattered the glasses in the coffee shop in which i was sitting.But it hardly strained into the ears of this city basking idly under the scorching sun.In that moment,I had a view of the demented world that we were living in.

My eyes searched the road for any sign of his parents.All i found was an empty road.I don't think they would have been in the cofee shop.Maybe they had gone to work in some under-construction building nearby.Or maybe,they had left this world in search of a better one.whatever it was,i was worried.After a while he stopped.His bawling changed to sobs and then subdued to sniffles.Maybe he realised the futility of it.For a while he looked around not knowing what to do.He went back and sat down besides his granny.I watched him,as he innocently played with his grannys sari.I wondered whether he knew about this world that he was born into.For a second,my thoughts connected with him.I noticed a lost,confused look in his eyes.They had a glazed look caused by a permanent state of worry.

I felt sorry for him.But he contradicted me.His face broke into a wide grin.In my keen observation of the kid,I failed to notice that the lump of rags beside him had arisen to a wrinkly old woman.I smiled feebly as the child rushed into her arms and got enveloped by a warm embrace.

I watched them walk away,hand in hand and dissolve into the ever innocent crowd of shoppers.The past and the future.Then it hit me.There was something amiss here.The present.Where was it?? I slipped into introspection.I had been so engrossed in scanning my past and worrying about my future,that i had lost my present.Every innocuous moment that had slipped by was now lost forever in the throes of time.But now,I realised.I had to make the most of the moments i had.In them i had to work,live and enjoy.As i rose from my table,the child inside me smiled.He took me by my hand into his future.His present happily followed his future.

Going Down In A Blaze Of Glory

Every single day they rise and go on with their work.They are ordinary people,like you,me,everyone else.Not much differentiates us.Just like us,they too have families to feed,parties to go to,friends to meet,and bils to pay.They say their prayers like many of us.Maybe more sincerely than many of us.They belong to someone,or are somebody.They might be be somebody's only love,A father's only hope.The two eyes of their mother.He might be a hardworking father,worrying about his child's future.A mother who puts her two kids to sleep,saying that she would be with them forever.A loving husband wanting to fulfill every one of his wife's whims.A young boy waiting for his friends to come out for the next game of cricket.

They have undergone much pain.A lot more than some of us can bear.And maybe,will suffer even more.They have dreams,many of which will never see the light of day.They still fight on.trudging through the murky waters of life's tragedies.Almost every single one of them knows,that their clocks are timed.It is a matter of a few more....minutes,hours,days and maybe,just maybe,years.Every night,they lie down on their mattresses with plans of what they would do tomorrow.Though one of them might never see the sun.Ever again.

They live life.Without Fear.For them,these moments are to celebrate life;not to mourn death.they have one more move to go on their 64 squares.One last attempt to checkmate their opponent.Look around you.They are everywhere.Behind you,In front of you,with you,maybe,even you.In the train,hanging on the door,working in the office,sharing your lunch,driving your car.They know life better.Better still,they know death.Not as an hovering enemy,but as a friendly stranger.but they aren't ready to let him into their houses.Not yet.They have one last task to accomplish,one last thing to do,one last move to perform,one last chance to prove.Then,they can go down in a blaze of glory.

The Edge

The sun glaring down at my face,the wind in my hair mess me up as I travel to town on a local train(surprise,surprise).No,I am not vivek Oberoi leaning out to catch a glimpse of my 'rani'(though i wouldn't mind it).I am just one among many passengers in the train.

It is peak hour traffic on the central line.People are crammed inside like sardines in a can.The heat and humidity of March adds up to the volatile tempers fraying inside the compartment.All i can see from where i hang is hands,limbs and a few faces here and there.My fingers hold on to the railing desperately.There are about seven more people at the door,who share my fears and enthusiasm in staying alive.together we hang;like festoons on a window;waving along as the train chugs its usual path.

Buildings and shanties pass me as i hang perilously with one foot on the ledge and the other frantically searching for earth.We raise 'one' remaining hand to our foreheads in prayer as we pass a temple.I pray for an extra day to survive.There are many people who sit on the opposite banks of the rail tracks.They are up to their morning 'chore'.This is a regular feature.Not the best view in town,but the most viewed.The morality police never catch us for those,do they now??

The crowd swells to an unbearable limit,as we depart from a major station in the suburbia.For somebody watching from the outside,it might look as if the compartment were bursting at its seams.Inside,jostling and shouting matches take place.The crowd becomes more violent and aggressive.Whoever said that indians are peaceful people,better travel in trains once a while.These ruckus' push people near the door onto the door and we,well....we are just 'touching the train'.We hang on with every pint of energy present in us,for the sake of dear life.

Seconds seem longer than hours in this position.i pray to god to grant me strength,as the train comes to a standstill right above a bridge.I am hanging 30 ft above black,muddied -and dare I say it-water.though my knowledge of geography might describe it as a stream,my sensory organs would disagree.To my eyes it seemed to be a gigantic gutter,while my nose struggled to stay alive over it.

Finally,I reach at my destination.Haggled,afraid and pushed around by eerybody.Though,I have enough adrenalin to keep me going through the day without a cup of coffee.My thoughts wander as i am adjusting my clothes and hair.I wonder why terrorists have to find so many complicated ways to kill a group of people that are anyways struggling to stay alive.

I Am In Heaven

I woke up one day to find myself lying on the grass with the sun shining above me.I sat up and beheld a beautiful valley sprawled below me.As far as i could extend my eyes,a lush green carpet of grass spread out.Cows,grazing nonchalantly,ocassionally raised their heads to greet me.The bright,blue,sky extended like a canopy,much beyond the great blue peaks with their tiaras of white,fluffy clouds.The sound of a waterfall gushing somewhere,wafted in the air alongwith the chorus of sparrows.The smell of wet mud filled the air and calmed me.Fear,surprise,joy and excitement created a chaos of emotions inside me.

I removed my shoes and felt the ticklish grass.The wind had stopped in a pregnant pause,waiting for me to take the next step.In that moment of surreal calm,I knew I was experiencing bliss.I decided to run down to the valley floor.A surge of happiness bursted through my insides.I ran like never before.For freedom,for joy,for life.I jumped,as i reached the bottom of the slope.My feet never touched the ground again.I was now gliding along the wind.I had turned into a bird.An eagle,to be exact.I sounded my clarion call as I flew across the meadow and above the forests.Birds in the forest raised an orchestra of voices as they answered me.With a swish of my wings,I rose higher than the wind could take me.I now set my sights to the twin peaks.

I increased my pace.Suddenly,flying seemed effortless.My body had started vanishing.I was becoming the wind itself.I passed over the rivers causing ripples to form.I flew towards the sun,peeking mischeviously from behind the twin peaks.With a sense of invincibility,I rushed into the white hazy clouds.

A soft,comforting embrace enveloped me.I melted into it.My heart could not contain all the medley of feelings welling up inside it.They began to flow out through my eyes.Crying,is not a word I would use to describe it,but i have no other.My tears drizzled down as gentle rain upon the valley floor.The grass now glittered as though sprinkled with diamonds.I wanted to touch them.I rushed down with the rain.

I landed on the cool,wet grasswithout as much as a sound.I was tired.My body had been drained of all the energy that it posessed.I dozed off to sleep with the wind blowing,upon a feathery grass bed;beneath an apple tree and the rainbow perchng between the mountains.

The next time I woke up,was on my bed.The curtains on the window were drawn,to allow the golden sunlight to enter the house.The smile on my face refused to leave me for the next few hours.My mom spotted me like that,stiffened and said,"Forget It!!You are not getting any more of the gulab jamun in the fridge"

HIGHWAY THROUGH THE DANGERZONE

His big,bloodshot eyes follow me as i walk through the alley.It is not night yet but the power cut in the locality has added to the eeriness of the street.I am walking at a frenzied pace.he has been following me for the last 20 metres.I take the road uphill.It leads to my school.It would be deserted now,but I know shortcuts from there and might give him the slip.I can sense the anger in his motion.I glance above my shoulder,and find him gnashing his fang-like teeth.man!and mom says i have scary teeth.I shift gears and pick my speed up.He follows.He is close by now.My instincts kick i and I flee the spot.Never before had I run like that.Barren,leafless trees hover above me at the top of the hill.I stop to catch my breath.for a moment too long,he catches me.Why is he following me?,I wonder.breathless,I hit the left.I know,there is a shortcut that hits the main junction from here.He divebombs me,almost snapping my leg.I run hard,my pursuer runs better.Fear clouds my eys.A outstretched limb trips me over.I yield ground.He stops a yard away.His frame covers the only route of escape.He lumbers towards his victim.I can see a lust for blood in his eyes.I blindly throw my hands around,to find anything that could help me.He leaps at me,his fangs wide open.I thrash the side of his head with a srone.Stunned,he falls back.I regain my foothold.Now,I am taller than him.He staggers back.I throw the 'missile' at him.I miss,but he does not wait to check.

I get up,dust myself and continue the walk home.Damn!!stupid dog!!Almost scared me.

A MIDSUMMER AFTERNOON

It is a dull,boring summer afternoon.I have exhausted all my resources of occupying myself.I lie there on the cot,with the earphones plugged in,gazing nonchalantly at the fan whirring incessantly as it creaks.The sun outside is baking up the ground.The cement pathway is so hot that some of its inhabitant mongrels have taken shelter under parked cars.The cars themselves,are not doing too well.I can see dust,grime and crow shit baked on them.they look like they could do with a cold shower.These are some of the unfortunate ones.Others like me,have a more comfortable life.They sit at home,listen to music,have a nap......not exactly.


IT is difficult to stay at home in such times.At least for me,its true.So why is it so?? My father always-like many other fathers-talked about how he spent his childhood struggling.He regaled me with stories of how they never had all the comforts that we have.How he would go to some richer neighbour's house if he had to watch a match on doordarshan.How he would never get any toys and had to put up with playing with homemade stuff and trees outside the house.Well,for all those people who think youngsters today have it easy?? think again.


Look around you.It is summer.schools,Colleges are closed.Yet there hardly are kids playing outside.Well for a start;Dad; there is no OUTSIDE.Our building ends right where the next one begins.You could pass the curd in my house to the neighbour and hardly spill a drop.Well,such closeness also has its benefits....Coming to the point,Kids don't have playgrounds like they had it in times yore.As for trees.The only ones left in this city are 'endangered species'.
When we play on the streets to avoid breaking our neighbour's glasses,you stop us saying "It is Dangerous".In such troubled times gadgets are the only solace kids have.At least we can beat the Australian team on the PC.

Even the use of gadgets is highly overrated.To be honest,I am around 20 and the most complicated gadget that I have used is a cellphone.Not all have playstations and Xbox 360s lying around.Even if hey did,living in my part of the town you are wont to have it lying in dust .We don't have electricity for 6-8 hours AT LEAST.(Mind it!I don't live in a shanty either.)So I can't use my 'gadgets' for long enough to waste precious time.

Third,no young boy of 20 years age can afford to stay at home playing.Not that the younger ones do.Half of my friends are busy in their jobs,careers,getting on with life et al.The younger ones -The ones I bully,at least try to- are off to coaching classes.I am curious.Many are busy preparing for the next year of exams.I never prepared for the exams before the penultimate day.

That leaves me alone.The daydreamer,stays at home writing nonsense on his PC.Such that only like minded people like to read.Mom shouts from the kitchen to make me sell the papers and useless items and get some change.I try to ignore her.But it is hard to do that when she comes out with a metal tongs in her hands."Do that and get me some groceries,or forget your coffee",she warns me.Whoever said that youngsters today have it easy.....Dad,you were lucky

Over The Top

I stood there on the ledge.Alone,Desperate.The wind blew hard in my face;as if to dissuade me.Below me,an endless trail of tracks snaked into the fast darkening horizon.The sun shimmered ominously in the twilight sky.Somewhere faraway,a lone canine called out to the pale moon.Soon,a chorus of howls inundated the chill air.My heart is beating so fast,I can hear it.I step down to calm myself.One look around the creepy,tattered bridge assures me that I am alone.The train shrieks as it passes below the bridge.Its rumble shakes the earth beneath my feet.

I toughened myself up.I had to do this.I climbed onto the ledge again.This time I was not alone.A lone night owl is waiting for a sight of its prey.He tilts his head and studies me with his bright round eyes.I avoid his gaze and concentrate on a more important job.I look down.It must've been thirty feet to the ground.One step ahead takes me thirty feet below,strange!!I push my stiffened body over the ledge.I can see the light of a train.Maybe it's an express one!Suddenly there is a creepy calm.I feel like I am falling into a vaccum.I hit the ground,without a sound.I feel nothing.My body is strangely limp.

I open my eyes.It is all dark around me.I try to stand up,but my back is killing me.My head shoots up instinctively.All I can see is an old fan creaking as it whirs on my room's ceiling.

Lage Raho.....

It is a busy traffic circle.Cars and bikes smoke past.Everybody is busy running from one end to th e other.Nobody notices him standing in the centre.An old,bespectacled man hunched on a stick;right in the centre of the circle.He has been standing there for a long time.I don't know why he hasn't crossed the road yet.Maybe that is not his purpose.The sun burns down with a purposeful vengeance.His bald head does not seem to be the best headwear to me.Birds,all kinds hover around him.He doesn't seem to care.And interestingly,neither do they.This strange view attracts a little girl's atention,as she passes by in a car.All she gets in return is a bark from her mother to keep her hands inside.The birds are very calm on his shoulder.Suddenly,one of them undergoes a minor'indigestion'.His expression does not change for a moment,his smile is unwavering.As if nothing happened.

It is an hour past and he still stands there.Steady and rock solid on his staff.A man is right next to him.He looks like one of those rich businessmen.He is puffing on his cigarette.Well,as if that wasn't enough,he has a mouth full of 'paan'.He sneaks a look around,like a thief about to pick a pocket,and spits.Right on the old man,leaving a red abstract stain on his dhoti.Not even a sorry muttered.I look at the old man,for some expression of anger.I am disappointed.Not a wince,his face is stoic.I know it now.He is one of those pacifists,who would bear every oppression in staunch non-violent manner.I knew if this guy had the strength,he would have cleaned the stain and smiled at the 'culprit'. GANDHIGIRI - They call it.All philosophical nonsense.Who will bear everything bravely,without getting angry,cursing or hitting his opponent?I won't.Some boys pass him.Raucous and screeching in mirth.One of them imitates him and gives birth to a new joke.They throw away empty packets of biscuits at his feet.Immediately three scourging mongrels pick them up and run away.Wish some of us had the decency they have.I decide to leave the old man alone and concentrate on my lunch.

I decide its time to get home.I walk past him for the last time.The plaque beneath him reads -MOHANDAS KARAMCHAND "MAHATMA" GANDHI -FATHER OF OUR NATION.I smile at him.Wonder if this was the nation he wished for,dreamed of,gave his life for?Only if he had a voice.If only he could speak.....again.

Na Poocho Dard Bando se
Hasi Kaisi Khushi Kaisi
Musibat sar Pe Rahti Hai
Kabhi Aisi Kabhi Kaisi.

The Long Drive

I got into the rickshaw.It already had two passengers.A girl my age and an old uncle. The rickshaw-wallah looked back and said,"Meter pe chalega(Pay according to the meter)." I nodded my head before asking him,"Meter toh chalega,na?(At least the meter will work)".He smiled.Thus the drive began.

I was returning from college after writing my exams.I guess the paper wasn't too easy,which is why I skipped my walk home and got into the rick.The rickshaw is a very quaint little thing.Though I do not take it very often,it is something I enjoy riding in.Better than a car or a bike.Maybe because I feel safer in it.The ride home is a long one,the driver knew this better than anybody else.Sensing two young people in his 'Feraree',he switched on the FM.The speakers behind us blared,for a minute the world went silent.The poor uncle could not help but mumble in irritation.He glared at the driver,who oblivious of his doingsang along in merriment.I could not help but smile.Well,I loved the song.The uncle caught me in the act,glared at me.I looked the other way.

Halfway through the journey now.We were past the ever ensuing traffic of the main road and on the last stretch home.This was the rougher part of the road.The rickshaw wallah seemed very confident of his driving skills,the uncle wasn't.In the meanwhile he(driver) turned to me and started alking India's chances in the world cup.I,for a moment was caught unawares.Then taking a cautious approach,I expressed a positive wish that maybe they might just make it this time.People can be real sensitive about cricket in this country.He laughed.My bluff was called.I had no choice but to argue in support of the topic.I was facing a tough opponent.He seemed to know every flaw that Sunil Gavaskar and Vengsarkar might have ovelooked while selecting the team.Suddenly the wise old man spoke up beside me.Well,the debate got tougher coz,he belonged to the generation that had seen the cup home.He started comparisons of the present team and "victorious" one.The rickshaw driver decided to take the safer side.The girl,who somehow seemed familiar,was worrying sick lest the driver should bang the convoy into an oncoming divider.We three were unaware of her fears,and perhaps a little insensitive too.I know exactly what she might have thought,"MEN",just like mom and many other unfortunate women do.

We reached home finally.I got down and paid the fare and bid farewell to my entertaining friend.The uncle warned me to watch out for his predictions.The driver grinned and asked me when the matches will begin.I informed him the dates.Just as we were about to leave,the last member of our party remarked the silliness of the whole debate.The driver snapped,"You would never know",and sped off.She looked at me in surprise.I just shrugged.

IN a country where the pitches carry the name of the 'Caesar' Sachin,followed by the 'Triumvirate' of Dada,Jammy and 'the new kid' Dhoni;cricket is more than just another sport.It can make friends,enemies.It is a religion that runs much deeper in our bloods than any other thing.

MOM

She stands there in the kitchen,cooking,unaware of the importance of today.For her it is the same,every day,every month,every year.I don't know when I met her.They tell me it was in the hospital.I was a little pink mass of flesh;wriggling and bawling loudly.I ask her about it and she smiles proudly.I love the way she does that.Not that she looks awesomely beautiful,the wrinkles all over her face are ugly.

I was always afraid of her.Maybe,afraid is not the right word.I can't remember an accurate word,but it was not a fear.It was something of a respect.I still remember the times when she spanked me for not doing well in my tests.She would hold me by the wrists,and hit me on the knuckles.I don't think it was of much use,but somehow I never got angry at her for doing that.
I don't think she ever grew tired of me.She would diligently wake me up,bathe me,and drag me to school.With me it was never that easy.I would bawl all the way up the hill.She would always promise me a chocolate if I behaved well in school,I remember that.But she would never give me any.Instead she would roll out some balls of jaggery and give it to me.I loved those days,when she would place me on the ledge and feed me.She would never eat before feeding me,and still does not.As I grew up,she was the only one who supported me unconditionally.

I disappointed her a lot.In my late teens,I quite lost an interest of studies.I did very badly.She was suffering a lot within her heart.My father gave up on me,she didn't.Even now,when I refuse to do anything that my father tells me,She holds him back.Then she would convince me,somehow,to do it.Maybe it is in her blood.That amazing power of persuasion.She has never changed since then.

My family has been through good times and bad times.But I was never a part of it.Even when we were in a financial crisis,she never flinched.She knew to utilise her resources.She would take tuitions throughout the day.I guess she had enough experience teaching a bad child.Our single room flat would be covered with children sprawling all its length and breadth.Even when I took up a part time job in my vacations,she said I could continue as long as I was able to manage my studies comfortably.You should have been there when I gave her my first salary,she was beaming.

I haven't lost my admiration for her.She still goes about doing her chores ritualistically.She has grown older,maybe a little weaker.But she is the same woman.My mother.

The Book Of Knowledge

The book lies in my hands .Closed,ruddy and old.It has an ancient feel about it.I do not remember exactly when was the last time when somebody read it.but I guess it must have been a very long time,an year to be precise.I remember buying it from the old dusty shop in a bylane beside my college.I wasn't very enthusiastic about buying it.But my father had forced me into it saying that he wanted to see at least one book of my syllabus in my bag or else...He never finished the sentence,I didn't give him a chance to.I grudgingly spent thirty bucks on it.And then forgot all about it.

This always happens with me,buying a book and never using it again till the last day of my examination.Not that I am not a book lover.I love books - Novels,Comics,Stories etc.But books reccomended by teachers for the improvement of your knowledge in a particular subject,Nah.All year I spent my time roaming in the corridors,bunking lectures,arguing with my lecturers.It was there all the time,even when I almost failed.It watched every move of mine with an overbearing patience.As if it knew exactly when i would come to it.It waited.And it was right.

I was tensed.I had to find it.If not risk failing the examination.That would be a lot more dangerous than it sounds.I looked for it desperately.My drawer is not the easiest place to search for a thing,but I ha no other choice than succeeding.I found it at last.Resting between an old diary and the cluttered books.It felt priceless.I had never experienced this feeling,not even when I bought it.I was happy.I looked at the book.I felt like it was smiling at me too.As if saying,"I knew you'd come looking for me."

The Room Beyond The Dark Corridor

The sun was in its prime outside the room.The feeling inside the room was not the same.There were about twenty boys and girls assembled.Each one seated nervously in his place.The tension in the room was mounting every minute.But not a word was uttered.Other than the ocassional sound of paper being flipped over,or the tip-tap of the pen on the desk,silence prevailed throughout.Time pased without any incidents.There would be an odd whisper here or there,but it would be silenced as soon as the clip-clop of the supervisor's footsteps would near.The sparrow was the only living being that had the courage to annoy him.It flitted from the huge tree outside,to the sill above the blackboard.As if in a show of disdain,it would drop pieces on its way.The odd peon would peep in with a cup of tea for the examiner.The examiner would look around the room in a sweeping glance and accept it.The boy in the first bench looks at him.The thirst is evident on his face,but he will have to wait.There are a few people like me in the room who are keeping an eye on every movement in the room.The girl on the bench next to me is irritated by the sound her bench makes every time she pressures her pen.The clock is ticking away in its own monotonous way.

The silence is killing me.I have a very strong urge to scream,tear my paper and storm out.It is impossible,I say to myself.I look at my paper.The blank reflection of my mind stares back at me.The boy in front of me is furiously scribbling away in his paper.I tap him on the shoulder.He refuses to look behind.I can't afford to quit.He irritably shakes his head,as if to ward a annoying fly away.I leave him alone.I look behind for a stray sign of hope.The person behind me might be friendly.He flashes me a huge grin.I get the point.He knows as much as I do.I return to my paper.If ever I read greek,it was now.The examiner,who has been watching me,as much as i him,smiles.It is a sly one.That of a hangman waiting for his prisoner.I glance at the clock again.It warns me that there are only fifteen minutes left.I scribble whatever I can imagine.As the bell nears,the tension reaches a feverish pitch.People are now scribbling as fast as they can.The speed of one girl is bothering me.Her pen might burn her paper up.Even the examiner increases his steps.He sets around distributing threads to tie the supplements.He doesn't bother to stop at my bench.Suddenly a deafening sound erupts.People look up as if waking from a hypnotised sleep.The emotions on everyones face is varied.One boy looks as though he just lost his girlfriend,while another is as smug as the one who got her.The papers are snatched,and assembled on the table.Whispers ,loud and audible begin to float around.The examiner asks everyone to get out.

I step outside.The sun grins widely at me.He does not know how it feels.He wasn't there.Inside the room beyond the corridor.

English Literature - Do not opt for it

What a day!Phew!!Its Examination time,and houdini like the rest of his clan is very busy studying.Yes!Even Houdini needs to study,though he still needs a miracle to pass.Today was one of my more dangerous assignments - ENGLISH LITERATURE.What is so dangerous about it?Reading poetry might sound a great idea to woo your girlfriend,but it is not the same for literature students.We look at a poem not just for its lyrical beauty,but also for its metre.Before entering this class I had no idea about how many poetic forms there were in this language.All I knew was that poetry would have 'rhyming' words and a musical note,and prose does not have that.Some knowledge of poetry I gained from a very strange book.You might have heard of it.It was "The Da Vinci Code".Remember the 'IAMBIC PENTAMETER'?yeah,it is a form of poetry where the syllables in every line are grouped together at the metric scale of five(penta).There are other forms like The Dramatic Monologue,The Petrarchan Sonnet,Elegies(sad ones),and Epic Poems.To remember all these forms along with the complexities,and their rhyme schemes is a herculean task.Not to mention that we also have to remember the more famous poems of each form,their literary importance and their poet's background.I love poetry,to be honest.I just don't like looking at it with a magnifying glass.It is like the engineer,who looks at his ferrari examining its flaws.I mean,come on!!Its a ferrari....sorry,beautiful poem.Look at its lyrical beauty,applaud the excellent and ornate words,rejoice in its meaning.Don't ask me to write a three page explanation on why Tennyson's "Ulysses" is better than Elizabeth Browning's "The Musical Instrument"or vice versa.It takes the entire fun out of reading verse.Of course,professional and better literature students would disagree with me.

A study of Literature,especially English,would be incomplete without the study of novels.We have the famous "Pride and Prejudice" and Thomas Hardy's "Tess of the D'Urbervilles".Honestly,I hate 'P & P'.It is a totally girly novel.Well,I understand it is of great historical importance.I beleive,it was the first novel written by a woman to have acquired such fame and rung in the advent of women novelists.Even then,it is downright silly for me.Thomas Hardy though occupies a much better stanin my eyes.I hear shouts of MCP!!No,listen it is just because I like tragedies much better than happy endings.Pessimist am i??I personally feel,that Hardy had the courage and conviction to take a different path and succeed as compared to his peers like Dickens and Thackeray.His total opposition of the belief in a 'omnipotent,benevolent and omniscient god'attracts me.In fact,he calls god the "First Cause" i.e the major imperfection which is the cause of misery.He goes on to add that destiny,not character,is the cause of human misery,one of his quotes in my book reads "Man can do what he wills,he cannot will what he wills".Another describes the ever present cruel and merciless society aptly saying,"Happiness is but an occassional episode in the general drama of pain". Interesting ain't it??
IN fact his writings caused such discomfort in the orthodox victorian society that his books were often treated as sham.His sympathetic portrayal of the 'fallen woman' in 'Tess....' evoked severe criticism.Its subtitle of "A Pure Woman" raised quite a few eyebrows.Now tell me?Do I wrong in placing him above Jane Austen?Well,I do place Jane Austen above the Bronte sisters and Mrs.Gaskell.But I love Thomas Hardy.

Apart from this we do have a detailed study about the backgrounds of the 19th century literature.From the Victorian Age,back to the Romanticists and the Classicists.This part is tough.We have a complete and perfect mixture of history,sociology and politics in these chapters.We have to study what went on behind the scenes as these famous authors and poets were busy in their drawing rooms on their 'little ivory'.It is all very important though,from the marks point of view.

Now,the question is why am I telling you all this?Because......I had my exam today and messed up real bad.My chits were bad enuf and the guy sitting in front of me was a real bozo who wouldn't show me anything.Now as I am home,my brain has just awoke and realised that the data stored in that unused locker for a long time,might actually have been of some use.Hence,I write this post so as to prove that I do have some knowledge about literature.Also,in a vain hope that if ever my english teacher does look into blogs,she might give me some grace marks.

Ma'am,please have mercy.Don't look at the visitors page and judge me. Remember


Admit that Homer sometimes nods,
That poets do write trash,
Our Bard has written "Balder-Dead"
And also Balder Dash

PS: That is not mine.It was written by Matthew Arnold.I just 'wikied' it.

In control (It is a delayed post)

Finally,I am here to write something .It has been a very busy week for me.I have been staying at my uncle's housefor quite a while now.I suppose it has been a long time,so long that his son's might be wishing me to get out(jus' kidding).MY parents don't worry much.For them,its heavenly to find me missing.The news is that the parents of this house have been out of town for a week,and asked me to come and 'babysit' their kids for a while.I am not very good with kids,but when they are as tall as me,maybe taller,it helps.though their brain works at the same level.

Running a household is a very difficult job.No one knows it better than women.In my heart,there is no one who holds a position higher than the women of our family.With kids like me and my brothers around,I don't think they will have much spare time.That is why I do not bother them when they watch serials of regional 'Ekta Kapoors'.Anyways,as we decided to take things under our control,they knew that things are going to go out of control.After dropping them off at the station,we rushed home to enjoy our newly found independence.


the next day morning the sun came up pretty early.The milkman rang the bell.We got into the daily chore segment.I packed them off to college and office respectively,and decided to go to college JLT.As evening arrived,we looked around the dirty and desolate place,grimacing at the jobs we now had to do.FYI,we haven't swept the house for the last six days.walking around in an inch of dust is queer,but you get used to it.That evening,one of us took on the kitchen.Just to make sure he does not mess up our digestive system,I decided to keep a watch over him.He did well,to my surprise.

Well,in all we were able to stay alive till the pro's arrived.They were happy we were ab;e to hold fort,to a degree better.NOw,we are all well fed for the last two weeks.

Happy valentine's Day! ..... Really????

Sorry for the long lasting delay.The past two months have been really hectic for me.I've been roaming around.Don't even think about asking me,where I was.The story is long enough to be made into a bollywood movie.Let's return to the present.For those who've forgotten,yesterday was valentine's day.A day for love,joy and rejection!!No,my dear reader,I haven't been among those unfortunate few who have been mercilessly and fortunately side-stepped by the oposite gender.I am talking on behalf of all those stupid friends of mine,who have been crying since yesterday evening.My shirt still has salt stains on it.I do not know if they come off!!

Love is such a foolish thing.I am not a romantic at heart.Nor will you be if you had seen the world the way I do.The info i got from my friends is that St Valentine actually was killed on this day.So,what are we celebrating exactly??Love,right,but did not st Valentine,the earthly minister of cupid die ? Anyways,what do I care for.But for my friends,this is the day they await all year long.Well,they only look at it as a day of complete freedom where your teachers won't snarl at you whn they find you out of the classroom.It is the day they magically acquire teh courage to speak to any girl they like.Impressive,I say.No matter,if you are embarassingly asked,"Do I know you?", or the more common, "Excuse me!".Most of them hardly get to hear the voice of their crushes.All they hear is ,a big bang - of the slap.

This might have ambarassed anybody else.An ordinary mortal would have blushed beetroot,and got his legs working.Not my friends.Oh boy....sorry....Oh boys!!They were shamelessly in love,or that is what they said.Some were even more interesting cases.Like one of my classs mates,finally puckered the courage and took his sweetheart out on a dinner date.The venue was good.The food delicious.After a great evening,as he tried to speak,she stopped him by saying,"Thanks.But I do not like you the way you think I do."And she gracefully left,leaving him a hefty bill to pay off.Poor ol' boy,had to pay up as well as accept the ignominy of rejection.

Before you peope think that I am making merry of my friends sorrows,let me warn you that some of them still have to pay my money back.all I am trying to say is 'Why do only boys face this problem?'.Hey,hold your feminist horses!!!I am not against women.I can't be.I have a lot of sisters.Beleive me,they are quite a handful.All I say is why does it always have to be the men who are sorry.Think about it.Has your GF ever taken you out on a dinner date and paid the bill?Has she ever tried to woo you?Lemme guess,NO.You gotta give it to them they are smart beings.They lure you into the trap and then when you have been entirely used like a chewing gum,they spit you out.The fault is not theirs.Idiots, like my friend, always give them a impression of their own foolishness.So much for suavity and gentlemanly behaviour.
They walk around like flies around a dirty frog.Waiting to be eaten up.
This is why I do not celebrate valentine's day.Hey,its not that I do not get te chance to.My aloofness and mysterious characteristics,do attract a few flies.But I do better to ward them off.For all those of you who succeeded,Beware!You still have time to escape.For all those who didn't,may the good lord keep your souls.

Happy Holidays

Guys.....friends....HELLOO...,yeah bozos.I'm talking to you.Listen up.I'll be out of town for a few days so u might find this space empty.The mission is....dangerous,I'll let u know more when I get back.That is 'IF'. ;- ))

The Stranger I know

He stands there on the footpath,unkempt,dirty.He looks at me with a disdain,as if it is I who am polluting this planet.He bursts out in a rambling song about the troubles of his life.Many disturbed eyes cast an ugly look on him.He might be a thinker for all you know,a poet maybe.The fruit vendor down the line does not think so.He shouts at him for scaring away customers.His gait steady,head held high he walks away.You ought not to think that he is scared of a fight,he just does not stoop so low as to.He catches me staring at him and smiles.A smile of knowing,that of one who is wise.He does not ask for money,but never says no to it.The crowd of humans going to catch their regular train do ot pay much attention to him,he does not care.He sits down there.Unbeknownst to him,a white pooch is nibbling away at his food.He lovingly feeds it.Probably out of brotherly love,or maybe out of sorrow that it is among the last living being to love him.

I see him there very regularly.He never is missed,but he never is missing.Some people ignore him,while some others hate him.Like the constable,who never misses a chance of hitting him with his baton.Hitting a 'human pillowcase',does not hurt anyone.Anyways,who's gonna complain.His frustration vented,he leaves the 'filth' in a heap;crying.For you,this is insensitive.For him,this is life.

His pain subsided,he gets up.Hunger is a more powerful motivator than fear.He asks the shopkeeper for food,only to be rebuked heavily.He laughs the pain away.He satsfies his rumbling stomach,by drinking water from the tap.The tap is as full of water as his mouth is.He curses and goes away.I watch him for a while,till my bus arrives.As I board the bus,my eyes search the road for the familiar stranger.He is still there.Standing on the footpath.Unkempt,dirty.