four days..

Illness..uncertainty..final call..decision to go..bus..ludda keeping us waiting at the check..malviya bhawan..sleep..cp..tons of juices, shakes and nimbu pani..rented bicycle..sheeny’s lost phone..practises..time to prepare..birla mandir..pavneet ill..kuch kha pi ke jaao….shiv ganga..rocktaves..sleep in the corridor behind the audi..street play competition..hansraj..gargi..loss..kela rabri..sam chaat..stage plays..razzmatazz..lucky ali..sleep under the namaste statue..talk with the team..fight..talk..friends..chopas lost cycle..act and react..sky lawns..pahadi..the trip back home..
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It was a trip loaded with uncertainties.
I had been to BITS Pilani last year, and since I had numerous (literally numerous…on count, 6) very substantial reasons not to go; I was actually wondering should I have been there when I reached pilani.
Now that I’m back, I’m sure I should have been there.
Reflections, musings, bonds, falling convictions, fun…
Whoa sums it up.
Am glad I went there.
Thanks sheeny, giri and sahil(both of you) for insisting till the end that I come.
I’ve found many things; and some of them I so cherish, cant be explained.
Thanks to the street play team. And yes; I so want to go back on my words to you guys.
O HA!

LOVE...

Can love just be? Not with a person, or an object; with nothing in particular…no; not even the love of existence…but you just know its there, and you are glad to be alive in a world where nothing was ever wrong…or would be…when you know you belong…belong to every place you ever wanted to…no high thoughts; no deep musings…
Just like…they say happens when in love…

So long...

Its 2:30 A.M. Roop Nagar is a desolate neighborhood at this hour. Jay, a boy in his teens, is sluggishly walking in the middle of the road. Neither too thin nor too fat, decently tall, dressed in a mismatched array of clothes, his pace seems to suggest he’s in deep thought. Both hands in their respective trouser pockets, he walks; eyes looking somewhere at a spot near his feet, which seemed to move as if guided by nothing in particular; following a sensory whim of their owner. The motion seemed effortless, yet weighed down as if every step was preceded by a contemplating query-why?
Jay had no clue where he was going. He had sneaked out of his hostel room after he had felt an ‘indescribable feeling’. He had felt like crying. No; not the wail of a hurt animal, but the muffled sobs of a psychopath who does not want to admit to himself that he has a problem; that of a criminal who hasn’t yet been discovered, who must preserve his secret. But Jay had never granted himself the luxury of questioning himself.
He had felt awful.
He had felt like crying.
He had blamed it on the room.
The yellow paint, newspapers peeling off the windows, the disheveled state of his belongings lying all across the room-yes; it was the room. Jay had convinced himself. Again. This was one thing he was good at. Eighteen years of permitting himself the denial to question his emotions had made him an expert at the art of evasion. He did not know what he felt- he just ‘felt’. He would buy some fresh chart papers tomorrow and replace the newspapers on the room windows with them. Yes; that would make the shanty hovel livable. But presently, all he could do was escape the room for sometime. Now that he was out in the open, he was trying not to think. The room was left behind…he should not have had that clenched feeling now. No; its just the room after all…just the room...JUST THE ROOM!
“Need help, Kid?”
Jay spun around; coming back to his senses, he realized he had absolutely no clue where he was. The place was pitch black.
“Need help, Kid?”
“Who…who is it?”
“Ah! Me? I’m nobody. Literally. I didn’t mean to scare you; just that you’d shouted something about the room. You seem lost. Need help?”
“It’s…too dark…”
The ensuing flare of a matchstick made him jump. He only had a momentary glimpse of his companion. It was an urchin, propped up against a dustbin.
“That’s all I had kid; the last ‘un. I’m afraid there’s no more light,” he paused “just as well...there never really is…”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh; care to listen; do you? Come; sit. I’ll tell you”
Jay thought for a moment, and sat down beside the urchin. He was glad he had something to do. He was away from the room; at least.
“There really is no light, kid. Let me tell you my story. As far back as my memory takes me, I see myself wondering at the futility of it all. Life, in particular. I had potential; I had capability, I had resources…but I was never happy.
“People always said one must live for a purpose. A higher purpose. Not merely earning a huge fortune; not only being renowned…not only inventing stuff, researching new theories, winning battles…but something beyond…something higher…a higher purpose…
“I imagined how it would be to be immensely rich; the vision seemed good…fulfilling…but I was dissuaded and brought back to my senses by the common adjectival connotation used with the very word- filthy rich. And I thought some more. That higher purpose seemed nowhere in sight. I remember myself as a student at school…then at college…then at my workplace…I thought of aiming high; but then I tried to think beyond. And at the end, always the question was the same-stark, naked in totality- where’s the higher purpose? What use is it all, anyways? That aimlessness, that lack of direction haunted me; crawled within me...rhythmically resonating in every breath…then came a day when I was fired from my job. I wasn’t particularly sad. No more than I usually was. That was the day I started in the pursuit of the purpose. And here I am today. In bliss. I know, Kid. Now I do. Trust me on this. There’s no purpose. That, indeed, is the only purpose- to live aimlessly. Others would put in effort, struggle, suffer…and maybe they’ll reach somewhere…me? I’ll do nothing…I’ll just sit here and wait for death to come…but ultimately, we’ll all die...how does it matter? There’s no purpose…”
Jay sat still. He was horrified. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t listening anymore. He knew what sat beside him was the ultimate degradation a human form could achieve-consummate filth.
Jay sat still. He was crying, and he did not know he was. He was looking back. Within, and back. He had wanted to achieve things as a kid. Winning competitions…topping the class…and sometimes he had had his moments of glory…of joy…but then he had been exposed to that blatantly sadistic philosophy of having to live for ‘a higher purpose’. Nobody ever defined it; the only way to reach it seemed to be self-immolation. Want nothing; be detached; aim for seclusion…everything material was evil…and ever since, whenever he lost in a pursuit, he consoled himself by saying that he didn’t care…these worldly achievements didn’t matter to him…that he seeked ‘a higher purpose’…he often said it out loud; in desperate attempts to muffle his internal shouts that wanted him to be angry at himself for having lost…and wanted him to make an attempt at improving himself…at being a winner…NO! seeking the ‘purpose’ was much more easier…and it brought him that sense of calm…a sense of being above the others…others who just wanted to win…to be better at doing things…to improve...to forever keep moving…to seek perfection in themselves…to forever compete…
Tears rolled down his cheeks. His whole life traversed in front of his eyes. He had been conceited…blaming others for his failures…hating everyone else’s achievements…never attempting to earn any of his own; still being jealous of anybody; anybody who was good…he had mastered the art of evading himself. He never had to question his thought; his emotions. If he felt bad, it was because others tried to show him down…if he felt bad, it was because nobody understood him…if he felt bad, it was because he had no purpose…
But wasn’t the purpose way too simple?
To live, and not die while he was still alive?
He stood up.
“Thank you, baba.”
“For what?”
“For making me realize how much I love my room.”

BIODIESEL...HIC! : RELOADED

It had all begun on thursday.
At a loss of things to do in these extended vacations, me and Sahil took up a paper presentation on 'Biodiesel as an alternative fuel' for a competition to be held at Sri Venkateshwara college (SVC).
We got down to actual work on saturday evening; beginning with filtering the data that both of us had compiled over the previous two days. By sunday midnight, we were done...and we had the satisfaction of having put in a sincere effort.
It paid off.
First prize.
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Please come back.
1>> I dont have anyone to kick in the morning to wake him up.
2>> No one to fight with over who goes out to buy the milk, fills the water bottles and cleans the kettle.
3>> Nobody to tell to shut up.
4>> I did not bring Roasted peanuts. Its your duty to get them for me.(Yeah; i did bring aloo-bhujiya which is almost over. :-P)
5>> Nobody tries to seduce me now.
6>> Nobody to discuss the intricasies of life with a cup of coffee at 3 in the night.
7>> Nobody to help steal the milk powder from Nikhil's jar.
8>> No reason to say our fav : "hum hain..." ;-)

crap aside,
SAALE HANDWASH KO KYON LOCK KAR KE GAYA HARAMI??
jaldi vaapas aa...i hate using soap!
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BIODIESEL...HIC!

I got to learn something today.
Something significant.
You hear people talk about working for hours and feeling they could have worked more. Working because work does not feel like its namesake. I always had this standard thought for such people: go to hell.
Today changed that perception.
Working on this presentation for a competition at venkatshwara (I hate the term 'venky'..dont know why, but somehow reminds me of an oily burger), i did not realize how time passed. Its about midnight, and though i am a bit fed up with it, the overall process has been wonderful.
Considering the lack of time (and sleep) that i'm facing right now, more on this to follow.
Goodnight world.

Happy independence..oops..republic day

Its 12:07. The phone oscillates madly.
"hey ppl! Its d republic day! v'r indianz! lets celebrate it! I'm proud to be an indian! Jai hind!!"
?
Whoa. Take it easy brother. Patriotism generally finds an outlet only on these selective days when we get a day off; and when the day off is compounded with a hugely extended weekend, patriotism overflows. But considering that neither am i particularly patriotic nor glad that there is another day off, such messages do one vital thing - piss me off.
When i say i am not patriotic, i also say that i dont hate my country either. Just that the notions of 'motherland' and 'swades' dont go down well with me. And i'm very sure i would have been equally non-patriotic--if i may use the term--had i been born in some other country. When you say you love your country, what do you mean? Do you love that one page map in the atlas? or do you love the boundaries that require a passport to cross? Our forefathers were patriotic. They loved their motherland. For a typical person living in, say, Karnataka before the partition patriotism would mean the love for India.
After partition, however, the love is restricted to the territory left behind by our holy neighbours. Keep dividing; keep reallocating the territory..remove Haryana..Punjab..Uttaranchal..and with each successive division the area being 'loved' would keep diminishing. Hail the patriot who loves his motherland! only that his mother may have been born in a land that now belongs to someone else..but hail the patriot nevertheless! for he's the one warrior..who'll love the motherland till he dies..however so you may divide it...keep dividing..and you reach till his city..his colony..his block..his road..his house..his room..his...okay; lets spare the gory details..so come on...shout it out loud..HAIL THE PATRIOT..FOR HE'S THE WARRIOR...HE LOVES HIS MOTHERLAND..

P.S. : Ever heard of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam? Try it out brother. Helps. And you dont need to send out SMSes celebrating it too.

There i go again..

If contemplating earned something, i'd outdo Bill Gates.
ACT!
All i've been doing is think, think and think some more.
Contemplating writing stuff.
And there has been so much. The pilani trip..the hangover..shifting to the hostel..histrionica..14-odd dramatics competitions..8 wins..all those fights with Ankur on whether the hindi stage or the street play is doing better..joining the debating society..vacations followed by the internal examinations to name a few.
And i'v contemplated writing about all of these.
Act.
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Kay sera sera...

confusion reigns...
first year of my college...and going pretty much the way i had hoped it would..but then; why is this nagging anixety that haunts me every single moment? my meter's running low, and i'v been moving everywhere...spreading out my wings, trying everything..but i'm still lost in thought...rdb's line "ek pair past main, ek pair future main..isiliye hum aj pe m**t rahe hain" seems to sum me up....there's nothing amiss...maybe i'm just looking for reasons to be gloomy...the only problem, and that is definitely a big one, is that i am not being able to segregate the source of my dilemma...
probably..mind you; probably , it is my future that's bugging me.
not that i'm unsure of my capabilities.
i know i can work towards a goal; and if i'm sincere, i know i'll get it like hell..come what may..
but the only problem remains identifying the bloody goddamned goal!
what is it that i want to do after college?
what is the career that i want to take up?
what is it that i ultimately want to do in life?
discussing all these with shagun at length, i realized how entrapped i am.
i have no clue whatsoever to any of these questions.
yeah; ultimately, all that iwant from life is respect, money and some time to live my life.
civil services give me all of these.
but then...after being in the annals of a fast pased life, would i be ready for the 9 to 5 dull proceedings of the government office? would i be maximising my capabilities? wouldnt i just rot being a sarkari babu?
then there is the corporate sector...yeah; my pockets would bulge...but whats the fun in having a chauffeur picking you up from home early in the morning, dropping you in your cabin where you maddeningly keep glaring at your workstation all day long, till your beloved chauffeur drops you back to your bed?
business is not meant for me anyways...

i guess the only problem is that i havent been ableto identify my passion till now.
all i want is a job which i want to do..so that i'd never have to work...
but then...
what is it?

Hmmmm....

Have been inactive for quite sometime now.
With good reason.
Life has been sinusoidally fluctuating bang since my last post.
Hitting the peak, then the speedbreaker, then cloud number nine followed by a crash and now finally settling down on seventh heaven.
Hope there's nothing extreme in store for me atleast for a couple of months now. Have had more than enough of my share in the past half a month.
One hell of a ride it's been..and now that the ride is going smooth, i have no qualms saying that i'm loving it.
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Shit.
Sums it up.
Not done guys.
Pilani this, pilani that.
And now even after being selected, we'r not going.
"We'll go to kanpur"
To put it in their words, we dont want to take 'shit' to pilani.
Okay; so whatever we'v done since july is 'shit'. stinking 'shit' i would say.
Thanks.
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Adi was in India for a week, recuperating from the singapore syndrome owing to his midsem breaks.
So...adi ( henceforth : chink ) comes to India and behaves as if he has been living in singapore all his life.
Saale harami; dilli se gaye do mahine hue nahin..aur vapas laute chinki banke...
As soon as bhaisab landed, his bakra beard was shaved off by uncle.
Went for a night stay at his place two days before he was to leave...and he told me he had a lab report to complete before he leaves, else he'd be screwed.
Next day, he accompanied me to my college. We, along with my college friends, went to watch woh lamhe. Chink had to leave asap after that because he needed to complete his lab report,else he'd be screwed..
Next night, he left.
We were chatting after chink had got back to singapore, he told me:
I COMPLETED MY LAB REPORT AND LEFT IT IN INDIA. I'M SCREWED.
way to go; mr. screwed chink.
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Some moments touch you.
Others leave you flabbergasted.
Yet others make you feel sorry.
Then there are some which have the charisma of doing all of these in one go.
Waiting for someone outside the cp keventers, i saw this guy : the average Indian beggar. Soi didnt pay any special heed to him. As i was done with my butterscotch milk, i decided to move to the place where i was supposed to meet my friend. That was when he said 'bhaisab...'
Being used to it, i didnt pay any attention.
'bhaisab...'
I kept walking.
'What the hell do you think of yourself? Does everyone in Delhi look at people's clothes and then talk?'
Flabbergastation redefined.
I looked at him, and he continued : "brother..oh sorry; shouldn't have called you brother...look; dont misunderstand me...i am from a village near Ranchi, and had come to Delhi for a job. I was hit by a car right here in CP three days back. When i came to my senses, i was lying in Ram manohar lohia hospital..but those guys gave me only basic mediactio and left me as i had nothing to pay them with...i cant contact my home because there is no telephone in my village...dont misunderstand me; i want no money...if only you could uy me some food...'
took him to a nearby dhaba kind of place and bought him a thali. i wanted to leave, because i could stand it no more. As i started walking back, all he said was "thanks brother..oh sorry..shouldnt have called you brother..."
Did i do something great? Malum nahi.
But then..had he not been speaking english, would i have believed him? leave alone believing..would i even have looked at him?
And to say...hindi is my mothertongue.
Bloody hell.
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