RESPONSIBILITIES

Before I begin, let me inform you of the following. This is a blog filler, as I haven’t blogged for a really long time and the yearn for it has driven me to indulge in typing absolute shit now because I still have no idea what I am going to type about. Or maybe it’s some sort of divine intervention that has bestowed its enlightening blanket upon me, appealing for a rescue out of the sorry world of blogging. Either way, my writings add to the world’s misery and literary drudgery anyway. A good start would be talking about third semester. A semester, that’s still on, and feels will take ages to complete even though there’s only a fortnight left. It was/is an eventful semester to say the least, and quite a few things happened as it came to pass.

The third semester, right from when it began, has been a rollercoaster ride. I have never assumed so many positions of responsibility before, and never put my feet (among other things!) into so many boats. Being a coordinator for Mood Indigo happened from the vacations itself. But now, I’m handling the MI Lounge, a grand success in MI’06. This year, it’s going to get bigger and better, pretty synonymous with how any fest, club or organization works in IITB in the first place. I was also a Coordinator for the Entrepreneurship Cell at IITB for Corporate Relations and Public Relations. I had been slogging in the vacations making calls, going for meetings, and random Googling for information and contacts of college representatives all over India.

As the semester began, and our H13 sophomore intros followed, it was time to contest for hostel positions as well. I was always enthusiastic for holding a hostel position right from second semester, only this time, I felt it dawn upon me finally. Campaigning in IIT is not always the most pleasant experience. Going to each and every wing in the hostel, calling people out of their rooms amidst their merriment of chilling at the beginning of the semester, does invite some serious pacification on the candidate’s part in his manifesto and/or campaign. The 4 days for campaigning wasn’t easy. But it wasn’t even remotely as hard as I reckoned it would be. I had good competitors, two others in all, one of whom who actually believed my campaigning was so awful that he would lecture me now and then on how casual I was with my spree. Ironically, he ditched midway realizing how many other responsibilities he had at hand. Just another day or two of effort covering all wings until finally it was time for the SOP Box. I campaigned alone, contrary to what the other secretaries were doing, but this was my competitors’ preference, not mine. I was quite unfazed at the SOP Box, and had reason to as well, as there was hardly anyone sitting there to tear me apart. Results were announced the next day, and I won, pretty much by a landslide… 179 to 111. I wasn’t overtly elated, but just felt this air of conscientiousness hit my chest. It was finally time to prove a point.I was also a panel member for Insight, the official English newsletter cum newspaper for IITB. Not really a prestigious thing, but good for a journalistic experience. Anyway, apart from the first few meetings, I wasn’t able to attend the rest, purely because there was so much at hand. But I always remained a part of the affiliation somehow by writing articles and doing the groundwork. This is also deleted some time and energy as well, although not as much as one should tend to believe.

For some strange reason, I was also roped in as a Media Coordinator for Techfest. I had to write the press release for Techfest, which required some detailed reading and skilled writing. Adding to what I was already doing, it became quite a pain in the ass. It needed constant editing and working on my part, who, by the way was already well past deadlines. I guess my lack of enthusiasm in addition to unethically working for Marketing in E-Cell already manifested itself to the manager, and I was out of contention for any other work in the future for good.

Then followed the advent of Zephyr’07; IITB’s Golden Jubilee version of an annual Aerospace festival. To be tersely honest, I had not worked for Zephyr as much as few others in my batch did, but kept giving suggestions and attending meetings now and then. But come those three days, and work was pouring in left, right and centre. The night before, without any meals to boot, I was busy engaged putting up posters of Zephyr all over the campus till late in the night. I was also selected as the compeer for almost all the events happening at Zephyr… all the lectures, flight simulator, closing ceremony and prize distribution etc. In short, those three days were very demanding as I had to be present at the IRCC at any and every point in time. At the end of the fest, I really felt nostalgic as a small department like Aerospace with an even smaller workforce actually pulled off a fest with quite a sizeable magnitude. Everyone at IIT was nothing short of in awe of what we had done as a team.

There was also this one night when a hostel council meeting was called with the General Secretary present with all the councilors. I was the only secretary present. A hostel newsletter cum magazine was proposed, with yours truly being pained to be editor of. After a brief discussion of what’s to be put into the magazine and what not to, it was assumed that I must coordinate with the Lit Secretary and get the job done in a month’s time. This, interest apart, was something I just wasn’t prepared to do, given the fact that I just didn’t feel like doing it, it wasn’t something I was supposed to do anyway and something I just wouldn’t be able to manage alone especially when other commitments have me engaged for most of the time. Luckily, I wriggled out of it somehow, although I still have some regrets about it even till now.

Meanwhile, a lot of my time had been spent in preparing for the Debating GC events being debating secretary of the hostel. Debating is considered to be a very niche talent at IITB. Hence, to find junta and then train them for the GC events, that too at the hostel level is painstaking in every euphemistic sense. Right from radio play, to Mock Courtroom Trials, participating in both was a very novel experience. But getting other people to participate was somewhat painful. All the time, we had people ditching at some time or the other. I learnt quite a bit from it, although I’m not too sure whether the experience will hold me in good stead later in life.

Out of nowhere, came somewhat of a bombshell. For gross mismanagement of the Debating GC events; constant anarchy on the part of snooty seniors and few debating secretaries of the other hostels and the pressures of being taken for a ride having a position of responsibility, the Institute Debating Secretary resigned. The new man on the job now needed a new convener for the Speakers’ Club. We had hopefuls, but strangely enough, I was in the fray as well. I never wanted to become convener, more so with so many other responsibilities up my ass! But on peer and sheer persuasion, I mailed my expression of interest. The interviews followed. The same night at around 3.15 a.m., I received the telephonic confirmation. Congratulations followed in the coming days, for something I felt I didn’t deserve or didn’t owe my belonging to. My selection was purely because of the fact that a) my competitor was NEVER found in a Speakers’ Club meeting b) I had addressed all the problems of the club in the interview, and must’ve convinced him somehow that I knew what needed to be redressed. c) Hardly anyone wanted to become one anyway! I was then briefed on how painstaking life could be next semester, again for pretty much the same reason. Everything in IIT needs to be larger than life.

In light of all this, you might be wondering where has the academics gone? Trust me, I’d have written about it if I myself knew where it had! Even after making grave commitments of proving a point this semester, academics just didn’t work out. Either I’m too dumb to be in a place as competitive as IIT, or my time management leaves a lot to be desired, or both! Courses this semester weren’t really tough, but I just blew it. When last minute studying did it for a lot of people, I just slept though those vital times. Attendance reached such deplorable limits, that I nearly awarded myself an XX (repeating the course for lack of attendance) in Thermodynamics. Just when you thought things can’t get worse, you realize that there is no strict definition of how worse is worse! In some courses, I’m forced to crack the end semester exams to even be in contention of getting a pass grade! There were instances in which my regular panache was just drained out completely as I laid on my bed like a miserable fuck thinking of nooses and fans! I actually would go through phases when I found depression very soothing and comforting, something more precious to humankind than even hours of porn. I realized… maybe I’m just too enthusiastic for my own good!

HOSTEL ALLOTMENT

This is a brief (yes!! The experiences I went through with this procedure is far more than what this short and crude writing can reveal) account of what I went through fighting the bureaucracy of the IIT system, for hostel allotment; the allotment I fundamentally deserved being a legitimate student of IIT Bombay.

Let me begin right from the top. Right in between second semester, a list was put up in Hostel 3 (unofficially off course, as I had discovered later). It was a list quite keenly anticipated by all freshmen at campus. A random senior being so starved of fun in his life, decided to randomly put up the hostel allotment list WITHOUT the signature or permission of the HCU (Hostel Coordinating Unit). But then, everyone knew that the signature was mere formality and the list wasn’t something a fairy had just decided to juxtapose names randomly with hostels and put it up on a notice board. It was a weekend morning, and I was just getting off my fond reverie and switched on the computer like a reflex action. You see, I wasn’t blessed with a comp in my room at the hostel, so the weekends were usually the time I would catch up with my required dosage of internet, chatting and music. And the weekends were so miserably short that I’d take any and every opportunity I had to sit on it (with some blessings from Dad off course, who is working in Bahrain and which leaves me with access to the dream machine all day long!). My sister and mother were easy to ward off the computer on weekends, so the comp stood to be all mine for the taking.

Anyway, back to the story. I went online and saw this guy with his hostel allotment as his Google Talk status message – H8, here I come. For starters, that’s the lamest status message one would ever consider; but then I had other ideas running through my nerves at that time. Simply put, where in God’s name am I going? An answer that I would not have been able to establish sitting at home at that moment and having breakfast looking at my mom’s exasperated face. It seems she found it a criminal waste of time that I had just woken up, and it was already past noon. I made a call to a friend at campus. Well, two of them actually. Also, I asked few people online to find out allotment for Rajat Chakravarty – 06D01009. Basically, I was busy engaging an army to attack the notice board and fetch me my details as hostage. Cutting the chase, I discovered I was in H13. I was somewhat thrilled. H13 was the newest hostel. (I mean, 8 years old; but the others were close to 50!) The facilities were plush. The mess was good (not overtly! That strictly cannot happen at IIT anywhere!). To top it all, it was a privilege only sophomores at H13 would enjoy - a single room! Well, the idea of hostel allotment was not really to convey who is going where; but also to organize a workforce for PAF (that’s Performing Arts Festival, for the uninitiated). The PAF is a yearly event for an hour in which hostels showcase their talent (or the lack of it!) in areas of dance, dramatics, singing, production, stealing, screaming, wisecracking to name a few for about 45 minutes.

At that time, a few random people, including Kartik my room-mate told me that my name was missing from the H13 list that the General Secretary of H13 had for PAF work allocation. Considering that to be a gross mistake on their part, I reiterated that there are so many people headed for H13 this year (like thrice the number entering other hostels), they must have surely overlooked my name in haste. A possibility that even they didn’t deny, but even then, it was something that they were more confident of than not. For that matter, Kartik even told me that I had been allotted H6 and not H13. Another leeway I could not say ‘no’ for sure. But then, hostel allotments always happened in pairs of roomies. If Kartik was going, I had to go too. Hence at that time, I at that time didn’t really care as much.

So I worked for the H13 PAF, along with 130 odd others who were allotted H13. A memorable experience, especially when we discovered H13 won the PAF! The days that followed, right till the end of the semester; we always would compare our hostels. H13 being structured more like a hotel than a hostel; it was always criticized to be a place of limited, if not non-existent interaction. A fact, I wasn’t really bothered about anyway as the lure of H13 in other aspects was too overwhelming to say the least.

I had got my room retained for the summer vacations in H2, as Coordinator for Entrepreneurship Cell at IIT Bombay. I would go there very often to do work for E-Cell, Mood Indigo 2007 as well as take friends for a ride (pun intended!) around the campus as a tour guide in and around the beautiful green environs. It was austerely stipulated that I MUST vacate my room on June 30th. After that, my room will be forced open, and my stuff inside would be deemed as public property. Paying heed to the warnings, I began packing my stuff and prepared to transfer my stuff temporarily to another room in H2 till I finally shift to my new room in H13. Room allotment wasn’t happening till 10 days into July; and I hoping for the best decided to keep my stuff in my room till then. Shit didn’t happen for days into July, so I wasn’t really bother about it beyond a point. The hall manager courteously would inform me to fuck off from my room with my stuff instead of barging in without consent.

July 10th had arrived, and excited as I was with the prospect of shifting into my newly allotted hostel as soon as possible had infatuated my senses like a strong dosage of ecstasy. I paid my fees and mess advance on the same day and collected a Due Clearance certificate from the H2 hall manager. I also went down to Room 6 in H2, for final memories and nostalgia of that ‘not so great’ room. In short, I had all the documentation I had needed to legally shift in to H13. At first, the H13 hall manager was quite oblivious to give me the keys to my room in H13. He stated that I must wait for a few days till the nomads from other colleges who come to IIT for a summer project clear out for good. The outstation students had been given an ultimatum already and it was just a matter of time before they’d vacate rooms in the H13 hostel. Anxious as I was at that point in time, I didn’t buy any of it and my degrees of coercion grew. Finally, the man submitted to my demand and decided to make me happy. He slowly opened his table drawer to his right and withdrew the room allotment file. The HCU had already allotted the rooms to all the students. Just that the H13 hall manager didn’t decide to make it public on the notice board. Again for the same reason, a flimsy signature; this time, from the pen of the H13 warden. Anyway, he removed the list from the file and asked me to carefully scrutinize it till I find my name and my matching room number. I checked over and over again. Agitated in a second, I found plenty of Rajat’s. But then Rajat Chakravarty and/or my roll number was nowhere to be found on that list. It was clear. I had NOT been allotted H13.

It seemed the rush of blood in my veins had just stopped! My heart just skipped a few beats. The adrenaline flow right through my system just froze! The feeling just wasn’t sinking in that I am NOT in the H13 list. Maybe my anatomy was too shaken by my discovery to register any more input. Kartik and xyz was right. I was going to H6. Oh damn! H6 rooms were so small. The thought of sleeping ON my roomie, because the rest of the room space (oh wait! What room space?). The hall manager at H13 was saying something I frankly didn’t pay attention to or didn’t care to. It took a few minutes to achieve stability and gather the gravity of the situation. Conscience and rationale finally struck. That list the H13 hall manager has is wrong! There must be a mistake. I was then told to head to the HCU in the main building to see where I was actually going.

The miserable walk from H13 to the Main building began. It’s about a kilometer at least, so a good 20 minutes of thought and self-digestion was on the cards. On the way came H6 and I couldn’t afford to miss out on the tainted prospect of me actually being listed there. The list in H6 was also not out officially, and the hall manager was absconding for hours, if the security guard at H6 was to be believed. All the while, I was wondering, what in the world has gone wrong? Did Ashwath misread my allotment? Did the HCU misread it? Did the HCU even read my name, let alone misread it? There were several unanswered questions, and the database was increasing manifold with every footstep that was making its livid approach to the HCU office.

The HCU office had finally arrived. It arrived a lot quicker than it would have normally, courtesy of my haste in getting there to get things sorted out. I expressed my problems, with an air of frustration and an aura giving the vibe to the person there to feel miserable on his incompetence. Government officers in general give two hoots about people’s problems at first glance; which he seemingly gave the impression of at first. Realizing this quite early into this debacle, I enforced my rights and made it very tacitly clear that I am not going to be easily taken for a ride. This again, doesn’t go down well with the enforcers. The ball was still in his court and I had meaning with getting my job done in the way I wanted to. He showed me the hostel allotment list of all hostels and asked me to hunt for my name. I checked H13 first, and my name was still absent. In order, I checked all other hostel allotments, and my name wasn’t there too. Well, I was a little relieved and thankful then that I wasn’t going to H6 at least. Conveniently, the HCU told me to go check up with the GSHA (General Secretary Hostel Affairs) and find out where I was exactly allotted. Now, the GSHA is a fourth year student, Prashant Khandelwal. I now discovered that it’s the GSHA who allots the student hostels in pairs. I spoke to him on the phone, as he was out with his summer internship work. The guy didn’t seem very visibly helpful and just passed the buck on to me telling me to get in touch with the General Secretary of H13 - Robin and sort it out. It was going to be a long day that day. I set up a meeting with Robin at 10 that night! I had to stay back overnight at the institute. After running around all day, from one person to the next, I was exhausted. I needed a good night’s sleep at H2 for sure. Returning disappointed and visibly pooped all over, I made way for my room in H2. As I opened my room door, lightning struck. My room was completely ransacked and my stuff was nowhere in sight!

I rushed to the H2 hall manager while there was still time. It was 6 in the evening then, and his duty hours were also over. He would seek every opportunity at that time to get rid of me and make his way home. I, on the other hand, extremely worried wanted to know what the fuck is going on. The H2 hall manager politely told me that he just opened my room and confiscated my stuff. Something he said with such an air of easiness, that you’d wonder he’s blessed me or purged me off all my sins as if he was a priest! Being very perceptibly concerned about my stuff, I expressed my apprehensions to him. To my surprise, very priestly, he appreciated my distress and told me that my stuff was safe, in the storage rooms. I needed my stuff that night. I had to sleep somewhere, and on something. I had organized my room so meticulously (something that I never do! Or for that matter IITians never do!) in piles and packets to leave my room. The hall manager opened the store room, and my stuff was not to be found even there. I was flabbergasted. My stuff was, indeed, public property now. I was now, entirely dependent on the honesty and benevolence of the housekeepers and sweepers of H2. They were long gone, and I had to only wait till next morning in fond anticipation of getting all (if not, some) of my stuff back. I had a lot to lose. My squash racket, tennis racket, mattresses, books etc. Basically, this day turned from bad to worse. I lost everything I had - my hostel allotment first, my dignity with the HCU and now my objects of existence in H2. I didn’t even have a towel to wipe myself in the toilet for heaven’s sake! It was setting up to be a night of pure misery!

That night, at 10, I made my way for H13. H13, mind you is quite a secluded location for a hostel. It’s the furthest from the main gate, main building, academic area, H2... everything really. A walk to H13 is a projected trek in itself. Let alone the return journeys. I met Robin in his room. The guy gave me the first glimmer of happiness in a quagmire of appalling events that day after a long time. Robin was completely understanding about my problems and gave it a good and justified hear. He reinstated my confidence in H13, and told me that I will be allotted H13 no matter what and that he will speak to the GSHA and finalize my allotment. I was a tad thrilled, but not conclusively. The HCU entirely handled the allotment this year, and that’s not a system that can be easily influenced. But Robin with the GSHA had good reach, and I was banking on that really. Robin told me to meet the maintenance coordinator of H13 the next morning as he’ll have the list of available rooms in the hostel. Then followed the long night of walking back to H2, make-shift Maggi noodles dinner and some sleep amidst mosquitoes. To tell you how I spent the night will be a different story in itself, so I’ll let that bit be.

Next morning saw me in a whole new frame of mind. I knew a lot of things were to happen today. And it must. First, I met the housekeepers. It was about 8.30 in the morning. Yes, that’s way too early for my standards. But a desperate time need desperate measures, and today was no different. July 11th was a mission to be accomplished. The sweepers hadn’t arrived till then. So I needed to do something or the other in some front. First, I again made the tiring walk to H13 to meet the maintenance coordinator, a third year mechanical engineering student at H13. Somani as he was called, I told him my entire problem, including those that came to pass the earlier day in H2. He took me to the hall manager, who was now pretty accustomed to my disheveled face and my problem. Helpless as he was, he told me that until I don’t get written acknowledgement from the HCU, I will NOT be allotted a room in H13 in any circumstance. Again, the long droning walk to the HCU began. As I reached the HCU, I told him - here’s the deal! I want my room and I want it NOW! Quite rattled with my demeanor, he finally began doing something he should have 24 hours ago! He checked the original allotment list for who has been allotted which hostel from which individual hostel lists were made. In that list, against my name was featured NO hostel. I had NOT been allotted a hostel AT ALL. The wretched and dismal mistake of the GSHA was blaring at the top of its voice for everyone to hear. Well, now it was decision time. And a quick rapid fire quiz started with the HCU. I off course still carried away with my destination responded, all astray in a glee of excitement.

Which hostel do you want?
H13

Which hostel are your department students going to?
H13

Which hostel are your friends and wing mates going to?
H13

What’s your name, again?
H13

I beg your pardon?
H13

A series of frivolous answers that followed was enough to convince the HCU that H13 is where I could, should, would and must go. So a letter stating my allotment to H13 was written and finalized. All I needed to do now, was go to H13, shove this letter down the hall managers throat till he submits by giving me a key to a room in that hostel. But wait! The letter still had one thing left. It was one thing that would seal the H13 hall manager’s fate and my glory in H13. Yes, I’m sure you’ve guessed by now. A stupid, crummy signature!! Since this matter was hi-fi and needed serious authentication, this signature would have to come by none other than the Chairman himself! The HCU now were mere lesser mortals with authentication, and now it’s the turn of IITB’s Chuck Norris himself to do the honours. As providence would have it, I would have to wait for YET another day till the signature arrives.

So, I still don’t have my hostel allotment finalized and I’m making my way back to H2 to meet the sweepers. The sweepers who have complete custody of my stuff. I stormed into the hall manager’s office and the meet escalated into a verbal tussle. The hall manager was screaming in the top of his voice, explaining his complete lack of options other than forced entry into my room. He also told me about the nuances of how he scoured the whole hostel for hours that morning uniting my stuff and keeping it in one place. He led me to that place eventually, and I gasped in what was the most relieving experience I have had in a long time. The prospect of the sweepers making good with my stuff was really something worth considering, my stuff was all there, and that too packed in packets neatly. The sweepers in a rush, actually managed to do the dreary needful that I’d have taken months to do with all my lack of enthusiasm. The previous two days had completely drained all my energy, and the only likelihood I was bearing in mind now was to go home and rest. I now began giving a rat’s ass to hostel allotment and all that it had brought along with it. My stuff was secure now. And I, urgently needed some respite for my tired feet, a bath, a dental cleanup and some new clothes to relieve me off the smelly disaster that I had grown to be the past few days.

Two days later, I again returned to IIT. The letter signed by the Chairman had already made its way to the H13 hall manager. I went again to H13 in the hall manager’s office and showed him the requisite documents, photographs and receipts. After much deliberation and verification, he finally offered me options for which room I wanted. I chose B614. That’s B wing – 6th floor and the 14th room. The room was in one word – brilliant. It was right next to the balcony. The height coupled with the splendid view from the balcony overlooking the lake made for memorable moments to come in the future. The horizon was wide. The whole of Powai Lake seemed under me waiting for my orders as Emperor of the aquatic empire standing on his steeple. The whole skyline of Hiranandani on my left with monstrously tall edifices tearing through the skies and the Renaissance hotel kissing the fences of H13 on the right, the view is spectacularly majestic that can only be seen to be believed. The room was huge for a single room - a nice big cupboard that can fit 2 people inside quite comfortably; a huge table on which I could actually consider an overnight siesta; a nice relaxed chair and a breathtaking view from my window. All in all, I felt this to be a well-deserved complementary gift from someone who has noticed my tireless running around and felt I needed some reward.


Conclusions: -

• I was the ONLY freshie in IITB to have had the exclusive right of choosing his hostel and room!
• The system at IITB is depressingly bureaucratic and needs a lot of change.
• The GSHA is a complete incompetent bastard!
• Running around IIT campus is really good for losing weight and fat!
• I love H13.
• I must write shorter blogs in order for people to consider reading them even!

MY 2007 SUMMER TRIP

This is a letter I wrote to my dad in Bahrain. A very general letter explaining him in short as to what we did in my summer trip. The pictures however work complimentary to the descriptions.

Dear Baba

So we are finally back to Mumbai after nearly a month. It was a tiring and hectic trip in general, but a lot of fun as well. It rained here last night, the second time this year at Mumbai after May 31st. I guess now the rains are here to stay, or so it seems. Here is a brief gist of how the trip went on a daily basis.

20th May – Left from home at about 10 in the morning for Borivali as a safe measure. No real problems boarding the train, in spite of the fact that the bag I was carrying was quite heavy to say the least. The train journey wasn’t the best. It was quite hot, but quite bearable so not really unbearable.

21st May – We reached New Delhi station pretty much on time. We headed for the first class waiting rooms with the uncouth assistance of a coolie and sat there for a few hours. The waiting room also was saturated multiple fold. There was hardly place to set foot on the floors swarmed with people sleeping all over, let alone the chairs. We sat around there for a while until it was afternoon and time for the Haridwar train to arrive. We boarded the train with not much hassle. It was a comfortable A/C chair car journey so not really a problem. We reached in the night and went directly to Bharat Sevashram by cycle rickshaw. We got a deluxe room for 3 on fixed payment of 300/- a day with attached bath and balcony. The room was quite comfortable except the heat.

22nd, 23rd May – Did some shopping at Haridwar. Then we went to Ramakrishna Mission for aarati as well; killed time in short. On 23rd evening, we went to Rishikesh by bus. BSA was very close to the railway station as well as the bus stand so not an issue with travelling. We were offcourse carrying luggage for the big package trip but left one bag behind at BSA to avoid overload and pack the unnecessary. Rishikesh was hot as well. Difficult to sleep in the night in the room GMVN provided us. It was a good room, very big but hot ad infinitum. We met the tour guide and gave us briefs about the trip starting the next day. We slept somehow.

24th May – The 258-km bus journey began from Rishikesh at 7 a.m. We were 25 passengers in a bus of 27 as capacity; a family of 3 from Hyderabad, 2 families of 9 and 4 each from Ahmedabad, a family of 4 from Gorakhpur, an elderly couple from Delhi and the 3 of us to be precise. It was a long day, IN THE BUS that is. We went to Dehradun and Mussorie en route. There was a stoppage at Kempty Falls for breakfast and general sightseeing. All through the bus journey was general ice-breaking coupled with boredom. The bus was decent, not the BEST. But yes, quite difficult to tolerate sitting for a long time. GMVN could have done a better job with their buses that’s for sure. With a lunch stoppage as well at Barkot, we finally reached Syanachatti in the evening. It was a really beautiful small village a few kilometers from Yamunotri. We did some shopping there as well, for raincoats in case it does rain the next day. The place was pleasantly cold as well, giving our woolens a good time. The accommodation was fine - A single room for the 3 of us but shared bath. Bath was out of question with the water being tremendously cold. A problem we faced in the entirety of the trip.

25th May – The bus journey began at 6 a.m. A routine from this point forward was early starts; something that I wasn’t used to. An early breakfast and we were off on a short 8 km journey to Hanumanchatti, from where buses would stop plying. We then take a 9km jeep trip to Jankichatti on payment basis, beyond which only Route No. 11 is the left option for a 6-km steep climb. The climb began at 9 in the morning, and went on for about 4-5 hours. It was really horrible with horse-shit lined roads, steep as well making the climb really difficult, that too at first shot! Dollu couldn’t complete the full trip and had to be horsed for some part of the journey. Hence, for her security Mummy had to take one as well. I walked till 5.5 kms beyond which Mummy told me to take a small shot at the horse as well just for the experience. We reached Yamunotri at 1 or so and did darshan. Not for long though, coz now we had to make the long trip back. The descent was tiring as well, but not painful like the ascent, so we managed it quite comfortably. The bus then took us to New Barkot for the night stay. Extremely exhausted, it wasn’t the most pleasant welcome at Barkot with no electricity all night! But considering everyone was so fatigued after the day’s experience, sleep was the only bell ringing on everyone’s mind. The place again was pleasant, so not too much climatic trouble to get sleep.

26th May – A long day in the bus again; this time towards Gangotri. The roads were very risky to drive on with impending landslides the call of the day. Very narrow, one-way traffic so jams were more or less routine. The roads were very scenic with mountains and rivers and streams lining them. Nature was at its best. Gangotri didn’t really have a trek attached to it, much to the relief of the family. As the altitude grew, the temperature slipped. It became colder. What’s more? It was raining outside, a subtle indicator of snowfall up there at Gangotri. Not prepared for it at all, we were in sandals and no gloves to boot. We reached in the evening, the darshan would happen next morning. The overnight stay wasn’t the best because it was chilling cold! The GMVN rest house was bang next to the river, making it extremely scenic and a nice place to get cozy. Totally unaware of what might happen, our woolens were left in the bus, something we would not have access to for the rest of the night.

27th May – Early morning at around 5, we were rudely awoken by neighbours for the pretext to open the windows. Once they were open, we discovered how justified they were to disturb our fond reverie. There was snow anywhere and everywhere. We leapt out of bed with cameras and began our mission. The scenic beauty we witnessed thereafter is something only photographs can convey. We left for darshan at the temple at around 6 in the morning and completed it in almost no time. No lines at Gangotri, at least so early in the morning. We then went on the bus at 9 or so, after a good breakfast, and began heading for Kedarnath. It was a long bus journey on that day, with a lunch halt at Netala, a scenic location on the way to Uttarkashi. We had a night stay at Chinyalisaur, a guest house right on the banks of the Bhagirathi.

28th May – A long day in the bus. The way from Gangotri to Kedarnath, is really long, nearly about a couple of days by bus. Our night stay was at Guptkashi, 35 kms from Gaurikund.

29th May – We began early that morning around 7. Gaurikund was only about 35 kms from there, the place marking the beginning of the 15 kms trek to Kedarnath. Thanks to an immense jam, a place we could’ve reached at 8, we reached at 1.30 p.m. Frustrating it was in the bus, sitting in the stuffy heat to tolerate hours of sitting at one place. That too, many people had left without breakfast, including us thinking we’d reach Gaurikund and have a meal there. With some benevolence of our co-passengers, one went quite a distance in front to get us some Aloo Parathas to keep our tummies at bay, at least for a while. Then at Gaurikund, the torturous trek started. We were told it wasn’t going to be as bad at Yamunotri as the climb is less steep. But it wasn’t to be. At around 7 kms, Mummy’s and Dollu’s legs gave in, and they decided to take the horse. I, on the other hand was determined enough to take the walk. Only later to realize, that I was the only hopeful in the attempt. All the other 24 took the horse or equivalent, leaving me in the lurch. Adding to my plight, it was dark already. The streets had no light, poor visibility as I was walking in thick clouds, and to top it all, freezing cold with snow all around me as I made the walk. Hardly anyone at that time, making the yatra; the roads were deserted, quiet and uninviting to say the least. Yet, in all that, I actually felt a thrill and somehow completed the walk. Tired like hell, the moment I reached home, I fell off to sleep, amidst Dollu’s weeping and shivering.

30th May – Early morning saw Mummy and Dollu going for darshan at the temple. I, on the other hand, was too busy sleeping giving my tired muscles a good rest. Soon, at about 8.30, it was time to make the long descent. A good breakfast then was on the cards. The descent also took the whole day, with us reaching the bus in the evening. Then followed a short bus journey of about 55 kms to Chandrapuri; for our night halt. Totally exhausted we were, or atleast I was with close to 30 kms of walking in 24 hrs, there was also another opportunity to catch up with some sleep.

31st May – A 185 kms bus journey to Badrinath was slated for this day. With a lunch halt at Joshimath on the way, the journey was completed. The times had to be followed well, with the way to Badrinath, being one way with gates opening on either side at stipulated times once ever 3 hours. We reached there in the evening, with darshan following immediately. It was quite peaceful darshan, however, standing in the line for a couple of hours. It saved us the hassle of going the next morning.

1st June – Early morning bath in the tapt kund water, felt nice. We left for Nandprayag after that. The chardhams were complete, and now it was all about reaching Rishikesh and getting done with the long trip as soon as possible.

2nd June – We finally reached Rishikesh in the evening. The sudden transition from cold to hot did take its toll on us. Most of us fell ill, and it lingered on for a few days more. We left for Dehradun immediately. We spoke to Bharat Sevashram at Badrinath itself and told them we’re not coming. And then called Dehradun Ramakrishna Mission and told them we were. We reached the ashram, visibly exhausted and took a good night sleep in what was to be quite a hot room but comfortable and clean.

3rd – 5th June – We stayed put at Dehradun considering we were unwell and went to the doctor for recovery. We all had a bad throat to recover from and we thought it’s wise to take some rest. On 5th evening, we went to the ISBT (Inter State Bus Transport) and took a bus at 16.30 hrs directly from Dehradun to Katra. Only one bus plies all day. The bus ride was not very comfortable really and we sat awake in the state transport bus all night.

6th June – We reached Jammu first in the morning en route to Katra. The city was really pretty with the Tawi River flowing right across it. It was raining ever so slightly and wasn’t really hot at that that time of early morning – 5:30 a.m. It stopped for a while and went on to Katra. We reached Katra at about 9 in the morning. We checked into a reasonable and comfortable hotel for the day stay and keep our luggage and rested for a while after the long bus journey. The room was good with a cooler, geyser, TV etc. On some enquiry, we decided to leave in the evening, walk all night and return early next morning. We slept all day and left in the evening. In the evening, the long walk began; a climb of about 12kms one way. The road was well developed. Stoned yes, but shops and eateries all over, are including the plush Café Coffee Day at 2 points en route. At about 2 kms itself, Dollu couldn’t take it any longer; and we had to send her by horse all by herself. Mummy and I were prepared for the long walk. In some miscommunication, we believed that Dollu was going to be horsed right till the temple; which wasn’t to be. The horseman took her by some other route, and we took some other route. In a dramatic sequence of events, Dollu was deemed lost. We had no idea where the horseman dropped her, while we actually walked the entire distance by another route!

7th June – At Vaishnodevi, we knew we had to take the alternate route back now and find her somewhere on the way. It was 12 in the night, and Dollu would have got off the horse somewhere hours ago. So we began preparing for the route back now. After about 2 hours of descending 5 kms, we finally spotted her with another family; also lost in the same case. The horseman takes them in some alternate route, which we don’t take. Anyway, all was well again and we began the climb up yet again! Yes, Mummy and I walked atleast 35 kms all night. The darshan then was amidst very tight security. It went well and not really time consuming. We returned in the morning back to Katra. It was time to vacate the room by 12, and so we left for Jammu. Reached Jammu in the morning and began looking for bookings back to Dehradun. We thought we’d go en route to Dehradun via Chandigarh. We booked for a overnight bus to Chandigarh. We took a few hour trip of Jammu meanwhile and took an AC bus to Chandigarh in the night. It was quite comfortable, with recliner seats and so we slept well.

8th June – Morning we were at Chandigarh from the ISBT of which, we took a connecting bus to Dehradun. The city was really nice. Extremely organized and clean. The roads were very wide. Plus, it wasn’t really hot in the morning as well, so we had a nice time. The connecting bus however was bad. It was hot and stuffy. Anyway, we reached Dehradun early afternoon. We had lunch in a restaurant and headed back for Ramakrishna Mission to take our stuff and head back to Haridwar. However, on reaching there, we were so tired generally; I suggested we’d stay back there for that night. And so we did.

9th June – We left early morning for Haridwar with the entire luggage we had. Some bags were even tearing beyond repair because of excess items, some which we had bought on our trip. We reached Bharat Sevashram in the morning and booked the same room we had earlier for 2 days. We immediately left our stuff and left for Haridwar market. There, we booked for a package tour of Mansadevi and Chandidevi. It was both the ropeways and a bus ride from one temple to the other. It got done much faster than we thought which left us for the whole afternoon to do some shopping. We did so, including an extra bag we’d require to carry residue stuff and ease the pressure of the nearly torn bags. We returned in the evening, after having booked a package tour for the next day to Rishikesh.

10th June – We got up early and left for the Haridwar bus stand. We took a nice deluxe bus and began our day-long jaunt. We visited temples all day. The ones at Haridwar and then we moved on to Rishikesh. We visited the Lakshman Jhoola and the Ram Jhoola and had lunch at the famous Chotiwala restaurant. It was really hot on that day. We were panting while we were walking, but worth the view. It was somewhat déjà vu because it was here where we had begun our Chardham yatra a couple of weeks or so ago. We returned to the Muni ki Reti bus stand and took the bus back to Haridwar. Dollu got off for home thereafter while Mummy and I went for Ganga Pooja at Har ki Pauri. We both immersed ourselves in the chilling currents of the river. All wet and no spares, we walked through the market for last moment shopping. We returned back to the Ashram in the night and began packing. It was going to be a long day the next day, so we wanted no stone unturned that night.

11th June – We finally left Haridwar station early morning by the Shatabdi for Delhi. The train journey again was very comfortable so we didn’t have much problem. We reached Delhi at 11.30 around. We took a rickshaw then from New Delhi station to Hazrat Nizamuddin. We checked in our luggage into the cloak rooms and were left wondering how to kill time till the evening. We took a rickshaw anyway and headed for Lajpat Nagar. A mall we thought we could catch up with a movie and lunch or something. But only the latter materialized. Delhi was sweltering hot. In fact, anything other than an AC at that time was beyond consideration. We went to McDonalds there, and had lunch. We sat there for hours till we actually decided its high time we leave. It was difficult to even walk outdoors and we thought, might as well just head back to the station. Which is what happened eventually, and we spent some hours wasting time at the station. Eventually, the train arrived and we were in. The insides were extremely plush and with good co-passengers we had a really nice time.

12th June – We were to reach in the evening. So it was quite an impatient while we spent in the train. But it was extremely comfortable, and the journey didn’t feel monotonous at all. We finally reached Borivali in the evening, and took a rickshaw back home.

Indeed, the trip had a lot of moments to cherish for a lifetime!

You take care and lots of love - Rara.

PORTRAIT OF A S'COOL' BOY

I was an average school boy. Not really the quintessential kind who thought school was all about studying; as well as the sportsman variety. Just someone who went to school, came back, listened to parents and led a routine life. But come high school, say Class 6-7, was when the word ‘average’ was not defined in a sCOOLgoers dictionary. This revolution normally hits other cities like Delhi, Bangalore etc only in college; or maybe in cities like Chennai where it doesn’t occur at all. But the fortunate soul that I was, the ‘cool’ maturity does strike the Mumbai glitz kids real early.

It is indeed strange because one can’t really define the word ‘cool’. The closest I can get to its explanation is just that it’s a culture or a way of life; one would believe to live in a few years time. Simply put, it was all about tasting ‘adulthood’ years in advance, or so it seemed. The transformation may be caused because of biology or an emulation of western society or both! It’s the time when guys finally start giving a shit about girls and proving a point amongst their own sex. It’s a time when people know you and define you by your persona, demeanor, and abilities to blow cash and in frequent cases, your public accoutrement or external façade. The more criteria one satisfies, the cooler you are. Having learnt about expletives, alcohol, narcotics and sex years ago now is when the freedom comes to use it shamelessly and prove your coolness. Not having done much in life myself, and my hormones running wild almost every night upstairs (and downstairs!); I finally decided to take the ‘cool’ route. It’s all about NOT being you, but what the heck! As long as it makes you popular and gets you the chicks, that’s all you’re expecting in life at that point in time anyway.

First, let me begin with the physical appearance. Having ordinary short hair is not the way to go now. Even though it made me look smarter, coolness defines hair to be like the actors and popular celebrities. Now considering I’m no actor or barber myself, I must seek professional help. Blowing three grand on a haircut at Hakim’s doesn’t seem a bad idea now that I’m on the path to ‘coolness’. What’s more? If I shed double of that, I can even get my hair braided and streaked something that will make me even more uglier, but DEFINITELY cooler. You see, having disheveled, long hair like Steve Tyler does make for some coolness that’s for sure. Now with my hairdo in place, jewelry is next on the agenda. Piercing can be really painful; but because Shifty does it, I must do it too. A bali on the left ear is fine. The tongue and lips can wait for a while. A perfect accessory for dogs, is something that must feature round my neck; a thick chain. Man, this bling can make me famous really quickly. My wardrobe filled with Fido Dido and Noddy shirts must make way for oversized Adidas and Fubu. Even the ultra-cool don’t really give a shit about shoes but I can’t take chances, so I buy a cool pair of branded footwear to complete the combo. I must admit branded stuff all over me does make me give an uncanny semblance of a clown, but I must look expensive to get the gold-diggers attention.

Being an inherent part of my life, my music tastes must change heavily. I loved the Backstreets, Britney and Himesh. But now, coolness defines them to be music for the homosexual. I still have no idea how one classifies music according to sexual orientations, or classify any music according to superiority when its hearing is so subjective. But then being immature in most cases is what coolness is all about. Even though an album of Backstreet Boys sells more than what Maiden have ever sold over the past three decades combined; adding to the fact that the Backstreet Boys are far more popular; if not even make better music, at least to my ears; coolness demands a compromise. From now on 2Pac, BTNH, Behemoth etc is the order of the day. Now you’ll hear music at home or in the car go….

You Little young ass mutha-fuckas
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You fucking with me, nigga ?
You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up
Before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
fuck you and your mother fucking mama.
We gonna kill all you mother fuckers.

Now the new craze is the guitar for some strange reason. Heavily clichéd, just because everyone is doing it I must do it too. Irrespective of the fact that there are other Indian musical instruments much more versatile than the guitar, it’s all about being western. My ideas about television must also change. Star World is the latest sensation to hit the cool masses. Friends I must watch though the jokes I do not comprehend! Now that I have realized that WWE is completely fake and completely wasted entertainment, I must switch over to Baywatch to titillate myself watching voluptuously and skimpily dressed women (or in cases, Hasselhoff!) running around beaches saving lives. Coolness stipulates the complete disdain towards Indian soaps, not limited to those by Ekta Kapoor; or for that matter anything Indian.

I have loved and admired Sachin Tendulkar all my life. But then, the cool junta now believes in Football and Formula One; both sports having close to zilch representation or interest in our country, even though the interest in other sports is appreciated. I find soccer a really lame sport, just kicking a ball here and there with people paying to see glorified stuntmen doing some fuck with the ball on the field. But now, considering I must be cool, I must have EPL conned by rote. The Manchester United v/s Arsenal battles can make for interesting (oh and extremely mature I must add!) fights in school. It also has dual application. Chicks usually watch football for the footballers and not really the sport, so it can make good conversation if I did know trivia about the game or a player or two.

Being really impressed with cars, coolness gives me the strong to try taking them for a ride. Even though I’m at least five years short of the legal age limit, keeping the pandu’s at bay is certainly not a big deal when you’re in Mumbai. The real experience of adulthood comes alive when a few lessons from some senior or dad gives me the liberty of doing 90 on the freeways late in the night. Totally oblivious to the fact that there are goons out there on the roads looking for prey as pedophiles or retards looking for make-shift beggar-converting hopefuls or just painful cops looking to earn big money by extortion catching juvenile delinquents; I ride carelessly with my cool dudes with the woofers at capacity creating an absolutely ruckus on the road. The quickest way to fame among your artificial cool friends I must confess. Acquiring alcohol and fags wasn’t the toughest thing to do, especially when you’re on the roads in the wee hours of the night where some baniyas on the road are looking to make some last moment earning and not giving a fuck about ethics. The last time, Sooraj had flicked two bottles of classy vodka from his dad’s cupboard which we enjoyed; but this time I had a few hundreds of rupees I took from mom for some fabricated school picnic which was going to make the purchase. Dope was too expensive plus difficult to personally purchase when you’re 12. Although, we had Chintan in between his third packet of fags in the past 2 hours; telling us fables about how his friends went high on grass in Lonavala one night. Very visibly untrue, but as long as it is true to the spirit of coolness, it’s never questioned.

Now school is the place (in addition to tuitions for the dolts!) where there is heavy socialization with girls (I was in co-ed for the uninitiated). Now in high school, and to the true spirit of coolness, one finally has his adrenaline pumping at the thought of women. Similar to the women as well, so it works in perfect synergy. But then, in school, a guy thinks with his penis more than his brains; so his options are much more restricted to the more visually appealing women. Being cool is undeniably about having chicks around you, and to have the prettier array around is an icing on the cake. Even here, the principle of women being loaded upstairs and downstairs applies! A good initiator of conversation with the ladies makes for celebrity status at school, if not one eventually ends up dating. Physical intimacy was pretty much an alien concept at that time, but guys in general would love to get their hands, legs, lips or any other thing on the precociously-developed, tender anatomy of a woman. Free porn on the internet or video libraries also has its fair share of credit for guys to think about objects to press in pairs at the mere thought of a female.

The simplest beginning to get popular is firstly, to get noticed! Undisciplined conduct in school makes an instant connect with the cooligans. It could range from not bringing books to school, back answering teachers, not doing homework to the more daring brand of bunking lectures and leaving school in the midst of class hours. The more severe it is, the cooler you get! The flak one will proceed to receive from the authorities at school is pretty harmless as long as the cool community has their brows raised at my actions. The simple policy that follows almost everywhere is that rules are MEANT to be broken! Academics in general (and in specific!) go for a complete toss with such an attitude. But as long as it makes me popular in school or with some chick in bed, I’m not complaining.

Now just because I’ve adorned myself and my actions to the loosest standards one can achieve in society, my thoughts and beliefs must not lag behind in correspondence. Coolness is also about an attitude that you must have, if not, at least a false external manifestation of it to make the complete cool packaged individual. I must in general be completely contemptuous towards those other mediocre assholes that are not cool. I must only talk to people who listen to my kind of music and consider the rest as panzees and losers if not gay. I must be extra sweet and modest with girls and flirt with them at any and every possible opportunity. Though, the reality of essentially being a haughty bastard must come to the fore for the negligees. I must always have my cool gang in my environs and indulge in making life for panzees miserable and ruling the school like there is no other. I, at every point in time must show myself to own a lot of money, even though I had none, to impress those who actually have none. Everything for me must be convenient, and I have grown extra lazy to even bother about the perceived nerdy things in life.

Now as I reflect on those jolly days in school, when I just didn’t give a fuck about anything and everything for the desire of becoming illustrious amongst my comrades, I revel today in this cherished legacy. I completely lost my individuality and was never able to define myself as anything else but ‘cool’. Being artificial and betraying my own esteem worked wonders for me in life. I didn’t really end up banging a chick eventually. My friends in those days of yore considered it a miracle I passed with 55.1% in the ICSE. I’m still hung on to cigarettes, specifically a few packets a day that I had introduced myself to, secretly in the public garden when I was 11. I had lost everything I had which, as a student, I would have been thankful for. I blew a lot of cash and a lot of parental respect in the fond hope of becoming cool someday. My purpose of being cool had really served me well.

REMINISCENCE

I knew I was late. I tried my best to reach on time. Getting up late always has fucked matters for me, even in the past. And I knew, it was also going to act spoilsport today. I left Sea Garden View at 12 p.m. sharp, in fond keenness of making it to lunch before 1.30 p.m. Besides, adding to my plight; I was genuinely famished and could have chomped through anything that could have been put in front of me. It may seem I’m heading for a time-bound wedding or a special invite to a celebrity’s clandestine revelry. But sorry to say, I was heading to eat lunch at my hostel mess! In fact, the mess customarily subjects you to the worst cuisine you can possibly imagine eating anywhere on God’s green earth. Amazingly all the same, I had developed an extraordinary forbearance towards it. But today was different. It was my last meal for a long time, if not forever, at H2 mess. The mess would be off for the vacations following which; I would have to be off with my baggage to H13.

I was half an hour too late. I entered the mess, panting like hell, noticeably hungry and thirsty. I saw the stacks of salad kept in front on me delectable as ever, waiting for me to be consumed. Lost in the thought of the carrot and cucumber, the vegetable kept ahead disturbed my tender reverie – “Get your ass here and put me on a plate quick, will you?” I took a plate and put all I could on it, and headed for a seat. I see, my wing mates, all together in the fourth row with a seat empty in the centre, perhaps wanting to feel my bum. I joined them, whilst they were in between a joke, laughing to their heart’s content. The joke quite obviously being explicitly related to the horseshit kept on the plate in front of us off course! I took the first bite. A current ran down my veins. God have mercy, is this food? I blinked my eyes. I returned to my senses. I opened my eyes. It was all gone!!

I was standing there, wondering in which world I really am. I paced slowly inside the mess. The manager, with dismayed vision told me that the food was over. It wasn’t special food by any means, but it was worth its time. The manager was alone in the mess, sitting on the remaining table and chair, eating away on some rice and pulses. H2 mess was not the same. The chairs and tables were stacked in the far corner and the mess largely clean and empty. It wasn’t the H2 mess I recognized and cherished. I had become schizophrenic for a moment. I left the mess, disappointed, sad and starving. I felt disowned. The place where myriad tête-à-têtes would take shape is reduced to a hushed dungeon of nothingness. Those mean seniors, who threw countless intro sessions at me, have all run away into the ashes of time. The ever ready mess workers assisting us in serving us food had, in their own way filled my tummy for a while, even though they weren’t there anymore.

I was finding the present tense and the past perfect!
The rough edges from the good old days seemed so much smoother. The mess gave way to the lounge. It felt sinister at first. It’s rather aberrant to find it empty first of all. Secondly, it was clean with all the chairs kept in an organized file. Nobody was there to receive a ‘hi’ from me. The newspapers, kept assembled in the tray for a change, were something paranormal. There definitely was a ghost somewhere, toying around with the hostel property. The fleeting creature even ensured no one was witness to his mischief. The music system was kept on the shelf, like in a coffin ready to be buried. The old newspapers kept next to it, intuitively inviting me to pick it up to clean my snuffles. The sofas weren’t seemingly alluring anymore, even though the dogs weren’t resting on it. The fans and lights were switched off totally nonchalant and blasé about my presence in the room. I didn’t feel invited anymore. A brief glance more was all I could endure, till I relented to head for my room.

The wings were abandoned. It seemed like a tsunami-prone area evacuated for impending doom. I entered my wing, the Frisbee ground to my back. The tranquility of the hostel actually gave me goose bumps. The cries of catching and throwing the disk, ringing in my ears, were acting like a seductive liar. The rooms from 12 to 6 were latched, locked or vacant, whichever way conveying the feeling of emptiness. The remnants ahead, were with heavy suitcases, on an unperturbed mission to leave. The place, so inviting for activity had been reduced to a desert of desolation. I entered my room, and saw Kartik’s stuff packed and ready to go home with him. I hadn’t even begun packing. I still felt a part of my home and didn’t want to leave so abruptly, even though I had to. Soon, even Kartik made a move and I was nearly all alone. Except for Ankur few rooms away, no sign of civilization in quite a distance. I packed, with some help off course, still in bewilderment and trepidation of what is happening around me. It was just yesterday that I could hear Sunmukh’s bawling and foul invectives coming from a distance. It was just yesterday, I saw a dog running down the isle, frantically trying to save his ass from a high-momentum slipper hurtled at him. It was just yesterday when Suchit came to my room to show me grimy videos of people at it in the toilet. Elixir was a team. Elixir was a family. Now, we fend for ourselves.

It is often said, that the world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealized past. Nevertheless, it's never safe to be nostalgic about something until you're absolutely certain there's no chance of its coming back. I could never have loved IIT as much if I wasn’t in H2. H2 became a part of me whilst I was there. The thought of seeing it as a dilapidated configuration will always hit me where it hurts. I loved H2. I will miss you H2. Here I come H13.

MY BEST FRIEND

This is a short, rather bad attempt at poetry I made for Chweetu.

On 27th October, I met you, my friend
Who knew everything I felt
You knew my every weakness
And the problems I've been dealt

You understood my wonders
And listened to my dreams
You related to how I felt about life and love
And knew what it all means

Then I proceeded to hold your hand
Amidst mosquitoes, one night at the stair
‘Can I see your lines?’ I fondly asked
You obliged, in my embarrassing despair

Not once did you interrupt me
Or tell me I was wrong
You understood what I was going through
And promised you'd stay long

As time passed, we understood each other
You and I had so many secrets to tell
About our families, friends and life in general
And why orkut fraandshippers must go to hell!

I reached out to you, my special buddy
And showed you that I care
To pull you close and let you know
How much I need you there

With you, Chweetu, I felt very rich
Not because you are a turn-on
But whenever I felt stumpy or depressed
I had your shoulder to lean upon

I realized my pranks, comments and opinions
Has been a cause of pain
But amidst my deep, solemn regret
Together we’ve had so much to gain

I'd like to be the sort of friend that
you have been to me
I'd like to be the help that
you've been always glad to be

I'd like to mean as much to you
Each minute of the day
As you have meant, these past few months
To me all along the way

I'd like to do the big things and
the splendid things for you
And support you in your journalistic life
Along with your English and G.K too!

I’d love to tell you those kindly things
That I so often have heard
Irrespective of the fact that I never bathe
And have uncouth hair and a beard

I'd like to give you back the joy
that you have given me
Yet that were wishing you a need
I hope will never be

Memories send a tear down my brow,
Especially the ones beside the lake
Also, the one when I missed tiffin once,
And you bought me a Monginis cake!

In all my laziness, I try my best
But I wish I could but repay
A portion of the gladness that
You've strewn along my way

I know my academics are in the dogs
Life is fucked as fucked can be
But there’s one wish, that’s all I ask
Is that you be here with me

Always remember, I’ll be here forever
You know this friendship is true
Coz I’m convinced that the person beside me
Is no one else but YOU!

And to end this rhyme, on a lighter note
I know my poetic skills are in a mess
But trust me Chweetu, what I feel for you
Is something words can’t express!

Yes, it seems very plagiarized. But then, I didn't want it to be a lame one.

REFLECTIONS

I have finally decided to blog more regularly now; especially when vacations are around and I have more time to. I have also resolved to keep my blogs absolutely informal and simple and not too shady (except at times!) for people to relate to.

It’s finally the end of the first year of my stay at the hallowed IITB. Exactly 2 semesters ago, I had thought of life to be very different. I thought I had conquered the world after having passed IITJEE and entering the portals of the most challenging environments the world has to offer. I had also made great fancied great prospects about my performance at IIT, maybe even a branch change. As of my academics at IIT now, they are completely in the doldrums to be euphemistically precise; and has left me with more unanswered questions and food for thought than I would have liked on my plate.

We often dwell on the things that seem impossible rather than on the things that are possible. Similarly, I also say to myself that we are depressed by what remains to be done and forget to be thankful for all that has been done. We always think ideally about so many things in life, even when it’s kicking you constantly in the ass and we’re still not bothered. Maybe in the long run it does work out, but who gives the guarantee. Which prophet actually makes such general views about life and expects the whole world to live up to his trite, idyllic philosophies. I (and perhaps everyone else!) talk from experience people, things don’t work out the way you want them to work all the time.

At the beginning, I was really happy with the setting at IITB. The facilities were really good and I made some great friends too! I discovered groovy veracities of how people prepared to come to IIT, seniors’ informal intro sessions, mess food, lectures, squash, death metal and programming to name a few things. As the exams passed, I soon realized that IIT is a great place for the greatest to discover their mediocrity. These are people who can merely intimidate you with their presence, let alone their academic and/or non-academic prowess as well. One just feels angry without enthusiasm. Maybe the only test I passed that semester, or for that matter the whole year, was that I survived! I spent way too much time doing other unrelated things like interacting ad infinitum with wing mates, wasted time in general and not studied and paid attention in the lectures that I had attended. The courses weren’t as easy as it seems and I fell for its deceptive looks. The exams left me traumatized and scandalized as I had far less preparation than normal for those papers. My grades suffered and I ended up with marks not even worth mentioning.

Then I began Mood Indigo work over the vacations, frankly because I had nothing else to do. I thought maybe discovering how the festival works, getting to know and interacting with seniors was also something I couldn’t afford to miss, so I utilized my chance. I worked hard for Mood Indigo, being in multiple departments. I got good appreciation from my coordinators and that gave me a good feeling about my college fest in general. I had a great time at the fest time as well, and didn’t regret working for Competitions, Informals, Security and Assistance at the same time. It left me less rejuvenated for the second semester yes; but I had a whole new tenacity and doggedness in me to prove a point the next semester.

Before I knew what hit me, it was the same old routine start to the semester as well. Not paying attention in lectures was again taking its toll, principally when tough courses are around and the term being tough in general as its flooded with plenty of extra-curricular events. Techfest happened, and I was nominated as a compeer for certain events all three days of the fest. I had unfaltering decided to not engage myself in any manner with Techfest, considering I gave it all I had for Mood Indigo; but it was a tempting offer I couldn’t resist. Mercifully, I got great admiration from the hordes of fervent techies when I was on stage, which gave me an all-new high of doing things at Techfest, or any fest for that matter.

The moments of truth arrived later, when exams went from bad to worse. My name was among the esteemed and atypical probable contenders to be sent to the Academic Office for outstandingly bad performance in Multivariable Calculus. Other courses weren’t palpably far-off from the thwarting scores of misery either, which evidently left a scar for the semester left. It was all about saving grace performances now, with desperate measures calling in few courses. PAF also deleted some time with me working a few occasions but that would be just an excuse to state. End semester exams arrived and night-outs began. Somehow, in someway, I did what was to be done, not completely however. Papers as usual, by habit to be very honest, sucked hard. Passing became the only 2-way criteria as far as grades were concerned.

At the end of the year, I’m glad to say.. It’s finally over. I have 3 months of my own complete time to look forward to. Maybe dwelling on reality is what keeps me away from greatness. The times to take negative stress will temporarily come to a halt. Befriending myself will not work anymore, as it seems to be about opening my heart as a homeless shelter for all the destituted and prostituted aspects of my being that I have been running from for months without even knowing that's what I have been doing. I plan to do a lot of things this summer. Lets see if it turns out to be a vacation to remember…