You must have seen Shakira shake her hips. Now watch it once more :)
This was an impromptu dance of a bunch of crazy guys inhabiting the 3rd wing of Godavari Hostel at IIT Madras. Particularly watch out for Tejas (in blue full sleeved at the back) and Bharath at the denouement.
This semester I had a course "Short Story Classics." And we had to write a story as part of the course. Here's my humble attempt.
When I wake, up it is ten o'clock. As I grudgingly open my eyes and look down from my upper berth, for a minute I am confounded whether by mistake I am in a Mumbai local. But then I forget that this is quintessential Tata/Dhanbad-Allepey- the only train I believe, where you experience India within a span of 32 hours. There being only one direct link between my hometown and Chennai, inevitably I have to relive this experience at least 4 times a year.
However I have never a felt any sense of deja vu, rather what unfolds in each journey is a hitherto unknown page of the same old chapter in the book of my life. The fact is I have come to relish these journeys as opportunities for reflection and contemplation. It was in such a journey that I had planned that perfect proposal. Alas, if only things went as smoothly as planned. I mean how on earth do you account for aberrant weather in such a case. That my friends makes for another story altogether and I shall not bore you with that here. As I was saying, train journey in India is an experience in itself.
I love looking out of the train window. I watch as the tress fly by while the mountains behind it try to race with the train, but eventually they also fall behind. The golden sun behind the mountains follows me further before that also is swallowed among the orange clouds. As the blanket of darkness slowly engulfs the world around me, I suddenly feel very small. I feel scared and alone in a train chugging along amidst an unending wilderness. Not a single ray of light-the mark of civilization at night- is visible till the eyes can see. But the gush of cold air on my face never felt so refreshing. All the tension of placements, career, future, app and job are cleansed out of my system and th rush of cool forest air that goes into my lungs breathes a new life within.
The window is soon closed as it gets colder with the progress of night. There are three couples in my compartment-each from a different walk of life. One newly engaged, who retire together to an upper berth and carry on with their honeymoon oblivious of the stares of curious children, angry mothers, and hawkers who look with an air of nonchalance mixed with resignation. Another couple have a small kid with them who kept himself busy eating something or the other and jumping on me throughout the journey. Currently the couple are engaged in cleaning up the mess created by the apple of their eyes, and I decide never to travel long-distance on a train with the future-apple-of-my-eye. The third couple is past their prime, maybe retired from their jobs as well. The lady is involved in knitting intricate patterns with two sewing needles, and the man is saying something about the cold in India and the coming elections. If I remember correctly, he had started with Pakistan about an hour ago, and I have been nodding my head since then.
But I am soon bored of looking at people. They are always the same. Unlike the darkness beyond the windows which provokes a new thought every time you stare into it.
Life seems scary right now. With fate hanging on the tip of a sword, final year is nothing what its famed to be-peaceful and fun. It is at such times that one gets contemplative, and I wishfully ponder what would happen if I could change my past.
I am sure I have sympathies of many there. Who wouldn't want to go back in time and change some thing or the other. In my case, there are many things I would have changed and enlisting them all would fill pages. Who knows where I might have been then.
I love the people around me, my friends, this institution, my life. Maybe it is those little flaws that magnify the good things.
So what would you do if there was a rewrite option in your life?
It had all the ingredients to make it an unforgettable evening, and unforgettab
le it shall be. For the uninitiated, choreo nite is the annual dance competion of IITM. Its a welcome break between the two quizzes, and Saarang still months away. But thats not what it gets its unforgettableness from.
organizers.
You attempt three out of four questions in a humanities exam only to learn later you had to answer two.
There are 20 guys in the wing, and somehow all decide to hang you upside down from the first floor parapet (though I think my duty to inform the naive reader that I am the lightest in my wing at 51.374 kg and also I might have spilled water at the entrance of a few of those guys rooms)
A monkey comes and pees right in front of your room.
And if I tell you that these are just some of the happiest quirks of fate this week, you'll know what I have been through. When things start going wrong one wonders if there is not some deep conspiracy against you with the whole world colluding behind your back.
Well the day before a physics exam is not the right moment to muse on such existential questions, but strange I say, very strange.
I couldn't resist any more. Not after those dreams. Soon after breakfast, I darted out of the house towards the bus stop. What if shop runs out of stuck! Who kows how long I'll have to wait then.
I was waiting for a bus on the main road. Before long, I saw a blue and white BMT bus glidig towards the stop. Just as I was getting ready to board the bus, the familiar name munnu rang out loud and clear above the din of the traffic. As I craned my neck above the passing traffic in front of me, I percieved Abhik (our acquaintance dates back back to the start of my B.Tech career when I was belaboured with hazaar gyaan from this senior) waving at me across the road.
I decided at once. No way I could have boarded the bus ignoring his smile. It may all turn out for the best after all. So I went. It was indeed a pleasure to see familiar faces at an unfamiliar land. I mean somehow whenever I think of any IITM guy, be it my friends, seniors, or even Aman I always tend to associate them IITM. That is the place I picture them all to be whenever I think of them. It was akin to seeing your school headmaster at a public restaurant. Mild surprise followed by an acceptance of the situation. Well, I went.
Glad though I was to see him, the pleasure wasn't entirely mine. He too flashed a warm smile. I asked him where did he work, where did he stay, etc, the usual stuff people meeting familiar faces on a street ask each other.
"Where are you up to?" He asked.
"To buy Harry Potter."
"What! Yaar Ganga waalon ke saamne to apni izzat ka dhyaan rakh," stealing a glance at the two guys standing beside him.
The faces of the other two widened into a condecending smile.
********************************
I was on the bus on my way back, all agog to read the book, my ears burning hot and red with the anticipation.
The phone gave a discreet ring. As I prressed the green button, Abhik's voice answered answered at the other end- "Can you buy a Harry Potter for me also?"
It was a gentle wisp of a cool breeze on a wet morning, and riding along it was a tiny little bit of paper-insignificant; as insignificant as my presence in the class. A white paper turned pale with age, dirt accumulating along its cracks.
It wafted across my face into the corridor. There it was edging forward, undecided. Then the gentle wind lifted it, delicately as a mother would caress her baby. For a few seconds it danced merrily , a slow rhythmic dance. Reluctantly it came back, settling on the window border beside me. I tore a scrap from the corner of my notebook and gently blew it through my palm.
Now the lonely bit of paper had a friend. Elated. Now they were like two sparrows, skipping and jumping with little gusts of wind. And now they were like two children playing the merry-go-round, dancing in tiny circles.
"Twenty four........ (louder) twenty four!" the prof called out. "Present sir." Then I walked out of the class.
Its the latest fashion statement in the insti. Guys with mane even girls would envy, baldies, hippies, geeks....... all have a reason of their own to shed all inhairbitions and flaunt the tough shell that houses those little grey cells.
Now why did I do it? Well for me it was a simple case of ephemeral pleasures superseding the furious stares of my GF I knew I'll have to face in near future. It all started when the drunk barber asked whether I would like to have my sidelocks short.
Apprehensive of his wavering scissors, I consented to the use of an electric razor for the purpose. Now anyone who has ever placed his life at the mercy of the drunk barber who frequents Gurunath will sympathize with me.
Now I was a novice when it came to the use of vibrating electric razors. The soothing feel one derives when the vibrating machine glides over one's head is something I almost have a fetish for. It soon lulled me to sleep and I didn't interrupt the barber in between. When I awoke from the reverie I had fallen into, a horrifying scene it was that awaited me. As I stared at the mirror in front of me, what stared back was someone alien to me. It was sort of a black flower with a stubbly brown receptacle. A few minutes of focussed attention to the image confirmed that the brown receptacle was my visage, and the black petals of the flower were my hair.
Rather than face ignominy with such a haircut, I made an impromptu decision-why not enjoy the whirring machine for a few more minutes, and mow down the entire domain!
The result, as you see my dear friends is this.
P.S. I am indebted to a great friend of mine for the inspiration for this post.
The sheer thickness of it looked daunting at first, especially with all the assignments that I've got to submit this week. But I started reading, and hoped to complete it during the holidays. It was a good book, and what caught my fancy were the initial pages of the book. I'm talking about Jane Eyre.
What I love about classics compared to popular fiction like a Sydney Sheldon, which one can zoom past, is that one needs to amble through a classic. I couldn't put down the book once I had started and put my 1st night out of this sem reading it!
Another book I highly recommend is Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. The way the character of Pip develops through the story is something, I'm sure we all can relate to-and thats where lies its appeal.
Wing treats have become sort of a ritual-a great opportunity to hang out with all friends together. And in case you didn't notice, this is my new summer hairstyle.
Yesterday I had a weird dream.
I was a grown up man, and had returned home to my parents after several years. I was tired and sick and was lying in the lap of my mother. I was not well and had a headache I guess. I asked my mom to massage my head.
Here I must say that my mom has magical fingers when it comes to any of these two things- giving a soothing massage or making the finest rotis! Cooking anything for that matter as I remember now.
Well, getting back to my narration, as I asked my mom, she seemed to get a bit pensive and replied that her fingers have grown weak with age and they hurt . She cannot move them the way she used to. I suddenly couldn't remember when was the last time I had felt that soothing touch touch on my forehead. I couldn't remember when was the last time I had eaten her rotis, the last time I had helped her in her morning chores so that she doesn't get late to work, the last time I had waited eagerly for my mom and dad to come back from work so that we could eat together, and the last time I had told her that she was the best mom in the world, nor could I recall the last time I had put my head on her lap.
I woke up with horror, and found rears rolling down my eyes.
Suddenly the dream seemed too real and close. Now, completely awake, I still couldn't recall when was the last time I had done any of those above things. And I couldn't foresee my future any different from what I saw in my dreams. The tears never stopped pouring as I continued to be awed by the future.
At the dead of the night as the world slept (except most IITians ) , here was I pondering over the biggest challenge to all philosophers- what exactly construes happiness?
Here I am, in an institution that I had dreamt of since my childhood, learning things that are at times fascinating as well as intriguing. Though some of the things have not been as rosy as I had dreamt of them in my childhood, I couldn’t have had a better present, isn’t it?
Some time back when I joined this place, I had the chance of opting for another institute, though not as good or well known as an IIT in my hometown. I could have then enjoyed all that I miss now- all that I can enjoy only in my dreams and for a few days twice a year. I could have continued to enjoy her rotis and all those simple pleasures of life. But, would I have been happier?
I don’t think so. Then I would have missed living my dream of studying at a place like this. Besides studies, this place has also taught me a lot more things about life and people- some I would cherish forever, some I’d like to forget. One cannot have all that one aspires. Sometimes, you need to let go of some things to hold on to others. Sometimes, you need to forget old dreams so that you can achieve new ones.
I feel, no one can achieve absolute happiness. Pursuit of that elusive mirage is what drives this world. Once you have everything, then there is nothing more to fight for, and nothing more to live for. I am not an atheist, but I do ask you one thing, what would you prefer- achieve nirvana, the final fruit of all pursuits and retire from this rat race or continue to struggle in this seemingly unfair world with all its faults and.
Well there is no correct answer, and as I go back to sleep, I feel I would still like to continue the way it is now. I don’t want to know what my future is going to be, nor where shall I be. I just want it all to be the way it is.
