With A Smile

When I entered the festooned gates of JMC on the morning of 23rd February, I found the atmosphere inside ridden with confusion, with some palpable heat and anxiety flowing around. Reason? The Women Studies and Development Center, my alter ego while I was still in college, was waiting to launch one of their most prideworthy initiatives of the year in the august presence of the Mayor of Delhi, Ms. Rajni Abbi. Quite obviously, my juniors, who now hold the reigns of WSDC, were facing essential bouts of pre-event jitters.It is not everyday that the Mayor of Delhi herself agrees to walk in through the gates of your college to give to your endeavours her blessings and encouragement. However, that is precisely what Ms. Abbi consented to do- to be with a bunch of enthusiastic young scribes wanting to make their quill their sword of revolution- and the kind of person she is, we were easily stunned and mesmerized by her.

"Still I Rise"- this is the name of  a recently launched monthly newsletter by WSDC, JMC, which seeks to address bold topics relating to gender issues- the concerns and the celebration. It is a unique and unprecedented initiative, at least as far as the history of JMC is concerned. If the first issue of this journal is anything to go by, I am more than sure that the forthcoming issues will only get better and more interesting, and will carry lots of informative and entertaining content which will definitely appeal to the sensibilities of the young, the concerned and the daring. You can know more about this newsletter by clicking here. This link directs you to the blog of this still nascent product of young imaginations, trying hard to mark its presence among people who take interest in issues relating to women empowerment, gender parity, inter alia. 

A simple half hour rendezvous with Rajni ma'am ensured us that their could not have been a better icon of female strength and achievement whom WSDC could have invited to launch the first issue of Still I Rise. The fact that they invited me, their ex-President alongside her is something that makes me swell with pride. Tantamount to pride also lingers the humbling feeling of gratitude. Rajni ma'am had a personality that makes one instantly like her. She is a teacher by profession, a teacher at heart, and somehow, I always believed that teachers make for excellent leaders. They already know how to shape futures, mold young minds into mature ideals, and be inspirations without having to try too hard. 

Professor Rajni Abbi heads one of the three municipal corporations of Delhi, namely the MCD. The designation of a Mayor has a lot of pomp associated with it. So while we were expecting a VIP to enter our college at 11:30, Prof. Abbi nonchalantly walked into our campus at 11:25, not as a VIP, but like a humble leader who belongs to the masses. Her punctuality and humility were immediately noticeable, but what was even better was her keen understanding of a student's life and an urge to cooperate with us. She was friendly, and gave us helpful sermons which we ought to remember for our own benefit. No moment spent with her lacked the dynamism she effortlessly exuded. It was the first time I met her, and though I have no idea of what her accomplishments are, I still felt like sharing the first impression she left on me. Political ideologies, I have none. But an addiction to recording the best of experiences in life I certainly do. This was one of them.

My best wishes to the WSDC team. Make sure each step you all now take only takes your forward. What you have began should not end with college. Your passions should accompany you everywhere you go. You all make me proud, for all the right reasons.

PS- Sometimes, its just a smile you need. A smile that you carry, a smile that you can lend. I think some of you reading this will understand what I am referring to :)

With Ms. Rajni Abbi and a copy of Still I Rise in my hand

Of Patch Ups and Filibustering, Two Roses and Some Debating

"Death is caused by swallowing small amounts of saliva over a long period of time".

Don't read much into it. I just wanted to start with something catchy. And this line more than fitted the bill. Two days of lecturing an unfortunate score of eager debaters on filibustering, and here I am, doing precisely that. However, this filibustering conveys what I dedicatedly follow in life. Each moment we grow, each step we take ahead, we are inevitably heading towards a dead end. Where we arrive, when we arrive, is irrelevant. How we travel is what is important. I like to travel savoring each experience as unique, and not having too many of one kind so as to keep them special. One recent experience which has raced to the top of my favorite moments from college life transpired on 11th and 12th February this year. To relate a little about that is why I hold the quill in my hand today. (Yes yes, I am tapping away on the keyboard, but, you know, this is called setting the mood)

Just so you know, I am not late in writing about an event that occurred almost 10 days ago. Yes, blogs are a lot about prompt display of thoughts, but I intended only to write when the memories in my mind had crystallized. Now, they have.

The Delhi Technological University, on 11th and 12th February, as reported earlier on Nascent Emissions, hosted a two day, multicommittee MUN, called the Deltech MUN'12. As a first, they simulated a double delegation, non MUN committee under the same event, namely, the G20 Summit. Amid an Executive Board with tonnes of experience, and participating delegates with mad and enviable MUN resumes, I felt a little lost. The amazing hospitality of the organizers did put me at ease, but it was not till I met Sakshi Aggarwal, the hastily deputed, charming Director of G20 that I could finally locate my comfort zone. In her, I rightly saw an amazing support for the two days I was supposed to spend at DTU.

The first few moments were spent in anxiety. 'Will we have a good participation' was the only persistent thought on our minds- mine, Sakshi's and Vrinda's, Vrinda being our sweet rapporteur. Little by little, beginning with a warm up session, things get into motion. Rest is indescribable in words. I am not a regular MUN person, only about attending one or two in a year. I resolved last year to never attend- participate or chair- a similar conference ever in life. And I am only glad that that turned out to be a hollow resolve.

We, as a committee, debated two very contemporary, dynamic, sensitive, pertinent, but dry topics over the two day session. Thanks to my well read committee member, the debate was anything but dry. I can safely mention now that Canada, China, UK and USA were my favorites to be the winners at the end of two days. A demure but determined Indian delegation made a strong case for itself by the end of second day, and ensured a High Commendation for itself. As countries, I might forget them, but as individuals, I promise, if you are reading this, I will always remember and recognize you if at all we meet again in future.

Amrita and Anmol- They were my favorites. Clean favorites. Charming and composed, both of them formed an effective pair to keep up with the pace of debating in the committee. (The Laurel and Hardy)
Priyakanksha and Hisham- They were the smartest and most confident speakers in my committee, whose confidence dripped from their faces. They were clearly more experienced than myself, but the respect with which they treated me was overwhelming and precious. (Rangeen Jodi- Runner's Up)
Kirithiga and Pranav- An adorable duo, where Pranav dominated with his eloquent speeches but Kirithiga matched up with her grace and composure, and a very amiable personality. (Rangeen Jodi- Winners)
Bhavya and Akshay- As I said, demure, composed and focused. Whenever my committee went crazy shouting and being uselessly animated, they were the only sources of solace I resigned my attention to. (Hope of Diplomacy)
Anup and Prashant- The youngest bravehearts of my committee, willing to take over those whom I was scared of debating with. These were two precocious school students who effortlessly contested, paralleled and even dominated the other committee members at times. Got into trouble, but got out of it soon enough. (The U-Turners)
Saumya and Siddharth- They were the next best on our list, just missing out on the awards. A little late to pick up, but their NSIT connect ensured they get enough attention from me!

The exemplary deliberations, debating and negotiations were accompanied by a lot of fun moments in the council. Discovering an unnamed rose under my placard was one of them. Breaking into long lectures about reading habits, concept of diplomacy, nuances of public speaking, and a little gyan on life in general was another. I had my tiffs only with the IP, but they too, were so fantastic at what they did that retrospectively, I remember them with a lot of respect. Exhausted after chasing consensus on two lengthy Declarations, a little photo session, preceded by a melodious rendition of Maeri by Pradit was only what was needed as the perfectly sumptuous icing on an already delicious cake.

I could never end this post without mentioning some more names.
Saad and Akhil- Prior to meeting them, I never realized that conference staff could be so diligent, endearing and eager to help. They displayed hospitality at its best. Water, coffee, projector, charger, chits, pens, stationary- I think we harassed them in every possible way. The only thing they gave us in return was a heart warming smile at the end of it all.
Soham- He is a school junior I am proud of. Had it not been for him, I would have suffered because of my over punctual self. Thanking him in few words is simply not possible. I can only say that the warmth, concern and respect  he loaded me with I shall never forget.
Shobhit- The sheer awesomeness he displayed at handling an event of this scale is something I could write essays upon. For now, I'd just mention that there could not have been a more perfect Sec Gen for Deltech MUN. Being invited by him was humbling and pleasing at the same time.

The best frames from then.

 

 

 

Dear Delegates

Today happens to begin what must be one of the most eagerly looked forward to conferences of the year 2012 in the Delhi college circuit. Delhi Technological University is organizing DeltechMun'12 over the next two days where delegates from pan Delhi colleges will congregate to discuss issues encompassing Human Rights, Global Security Concerns, Financial Stability, Climate Change, inter alia. Though not a regular MUN person, I do have my fair bit of experience now spanning more than 6 years in this genre of debating. As I write this, I do feel excited and happy that in some hours, I will be Chairing a non-MUN committee at Deltech, one which I simulated in my own college (JMC) without any precedents to look up to. The Model G20 Summit. Being an economics student, a committee which simulates the debates between Finance Ministers and Central Bank governors of 20 significant economies of the world on core financial and policy coordination issues, G20 seemed like the ideal platform to extrapolate arguments contained in text books and ET to a conference where we talk like world leaders making important decisions. The responsibility associated with researching and understanding is manifold when we prepare for such conferences, and it is this academic bent which appeals to me- not the flamboyant oratory or chic ensemble on display.

Today, when we assemble for the two day G20 Summit we are looking to simulate, two agendas of immense contemporary and future relevance would be put to debate. These are-
1. Coordinating economic policies and reducing global macroeconomic imbalance
2. Need for a global strategy to reduce carbon emissions and its growth implications.

As the Chair, these are the words which have been conveyed to my committee members, who I am hoping bear these in mind and end the two days of informed debating on a successful note (devoid of filibustering and neck-grabbing tendencies)

Dear Delegates

What we are entering today is an era unlike any seen earlier in terms of doubts, uncertainties and magnitude of issues which plague us as a global community. In matters financial and otherwise, it is truly quoted that the only prediction that will hold true is that no prediction will hold true. The meeting of G-20 nations has thus been convened in February 2012 within the precincts of Delhi Technological University to see if we may locate ways of mitigating uncertainties in matters of global financial stability and sustainability as we pursue growth objectives with a mad zeal.

It is only after the 2008 Washington Summit that G-20 was able to establish its credibility as an effective forum for promoting cohesion for a salubrious financial climate throughout the world and to debate issues which transcend the concerns of any one organization. Stepping into the shoes of Finance Ministers and Central Bank governors, as delegates, we are expecting you to take on two issues that the most erudite experts in the world have failed to arrive at a consensus on. The threats of a worldwide recession unprecedented in scale are looming large over our collective psyche and the skeptics are already out in the open conjecturing if the world will end in fire or ice given the hypocritical attention global warming concerns are receiving. Both these topics shall hopefully be debated with a professional, solution oriented, in depth analysis by the enthusiastic delegates who will constitute my committee.

As for myself, I am a Economics Honors graduate from Delhi University, aspiring to become a proactive, change inducing bureaucrat in near future. With my academic areas of interest encompassing the issues we have put forward for debating, I shall be serving as your Chair along with Sakshi from DTU as the Director. Together, we shall be hoping to provide you with an experience which enriches and entertains.

Being a part of Deltech MUN 2012 is as much a matter of pride for me as if for all of you. Congratulations on being short listed for my committee. Feel free to touch base for any query.

Looking forward to an amazing session.

Regards,
Saumya Kulshreshtha

A Montage Of Memories

What is the time of the year that as a college student you most look forward to? Definitely not the exams and assessments. It is, indubitably, the time your whole college is drowned under a spirit of celebration- your annual college festival which is not just a time to have fun, but also to work your asses off and proudly show off your college to the whole world out there.

I'll add one more thing to the above generalization. Not just for the incumbent college students, but also for the nascent alumni, the most looked forward to occasion is not the Convocation or the Reunions, but again, the college festival. I say this from personal experience. Reunions are good in their place, but they do not recreate the fervor and frolic associated with college life. Festivals certainly do. With a bunch of old friends, heading down to your own college with a cup full of memories in your hand and a sparkle of expectations in your eyes is an exercise many of us would like to undertake to revel once again in that relaxed, carefree air. My lips widen in a huge smile as I recall to mind that a similar trip I shall be undertaking towards to my college just about a fortnight hence. It is that time of the year again. It is MONTAGE time again!

Splashed all across my twitter timeline and facebook wall are updates and more updates about this year's edition of Jesus and Mary College's Annual Festival- Montage'12. It is heartwarming to see juniors take the oars in their hands and row towards the D-Day with such skill and innovation. With each successive edition, we at JMC have gone a notch higher in terms of the quality and enthusiasm with which we decorate the fest. More spunk has consistently been added. More shimmer sprinkled. More care observed in organization. More efficiency achieved. More events conducted. More participants attracted. More fame gained. And if I am to go by the words of the college president, Kanika Chaturvedi, this year, Montage promises to be nothing less than EPIC. Dear Kanika, make it an advanced version of epic. I know it lies in you and your team to do that!

The team. Aah. Now they are an enviable lot. A bunch of young, smart girls, who put the most passionate sections of their heart and the most creative sections of their brain into making certain that the fest is pulled off with uncomplicated meticulousness and stylish grace. One of the many new things they have tried this year is reaching out to people via an interesting blog. Oh, they have made some awesome teaser videos too, but since I am a blogging person, I am glad that my lonely, nightime occupation is being taken seriously by some cute damsels. They are churning out some cool posts with a candour and lightheartedness I wish God blessed all of us with. The feel you get while reading all those posts just makes the air around the road leading to the fest all the more energized. The countdown has begun.

Hit the fb page, or the Montage official website, but what I will strongly recommend is that stop by Montage's official blog by clicking here. Take a moment. We want you to laugh with us. We can be pompous about ourselves, because all the awesomeness JMC lends to us is prone to spilling out now and then. But with this blog, the creative scribes of JMC are out there to make you feel at home even before you step into our campus.

Its here. Montage '12. So, are you ready?

 

 

PS- If you are one of my male friends reading it, FINE, I know I have to make sure I take you along. I will. I promise. But don't you dare pester me to introduce you to femme fatales from my college. Please.

Down The Road- A Review

My short sabbatical to an internet free zone was spent with my nose poking deep into the pages of Down The Road- A collection of short stories by various authors about life on campus, edited by Ahmed Faiyaz and Rohini Kejriwal. What I felt about the book shall come later, but I must share with the readers that I was often found by concerned family members sometimes sharing a ridiculously personal smile, at others a worried pensive stare with the pages of the book. It was not merely because the book was handsomely engrossing. It was certainly because the book shared stories which seemed personal. 


Life on campus is a rigmarole for most of us. It, invariably, occupies a very special place in the chest where we preserve our precious memories. Growing up, finding ourselves, making friends, understanding love, learning, unlearning, failing, trying, enjoying, crying- you look back at college and you find yourself enveloped by a dozen emotions you once lived through, the ones which have played an important part in shaping you as you know yourself today. Quite obviously, I had my hoped pinned high on Down The Road, especially because I am fresh out of DU, and still not quite over the feel of campus life.

The book lived up to its name. Quite effortlessly, it took me down the memory lane. It is a fresh and pleasant collection of short stories by young authors from diverse background and with diverse writing styles. It tells simple tales of incidents we've lived through in school or college. Most of the stories which appealed to me dealt with love and friendship- the discovery, the innocence, the misunderstandings, the whole experience in fact. The book is divided into five sections with 28 stories by 16 authors. The individual authors have explored many different facets of campus life including elections, politics, ragging, teachers, passions, lessons, crushes, placements inter alia.A thumbs up to the editors for selection of stories included in this anthology. Some of the stories will make you smile as you remember the hazy face of that first crush, some others might touch you where you are most sensitive and feel some pain or regret. Narrated with an almost personal tenderness, many of these stories make you reflect on those trivialities which seem to acquire meaning only in retrospect.

What I did not enjoy was the last section of the book, with two essays about campus fiction and campus based movies. I was riding high on the nostalgic atmosphere which the stories created around me, and quite honestly, I did not feel like forcing myself through those passages which seemed a little dry after the wonderful and touching stories. I would give the book 3 on 5 stars. It is worth a read, in fact a few stories are worth reading many times over. Some warmth and some nostalgia you are sure to feel while you involuntarily find yourself living your college days.

My favorite five from the stories published in this anthology-

1. Smells Like Home by Aashish Mehotra
About the reluctant return to his homeland of an NRI student, who experiences comfort in the company of a girl whose presence he takes for granted.
2. Bellow Yellow by Chinmayi Bali
A commendable, mature and intense story about the darker tendencies which inhabit a student's being. Well narrated, delicately handled.
3. The Music Room by Ira Trivedi
The forbidden love story of a bright young student and a docile, out of place music teacher.
4. The Cafe With No Name by Sneh Thakur
A gently narrated tale of the brewing relationship between a student of limited means and a concerned and doting Parsi owner of the roadside cafe. Heartwarming.
5. Remember Me? by Ahmed Faiyaz
This one because it made me revisit Ruheen and Aditya's love story, one I had gotten quite attached to while reading Another Chance.

Winter Reminiscences- That Story...

Did you witness what was supposed to be the last complete lunar eclipse of this year? I missed it! By some fifteen minutes. So when I finally did climb onto the terrace, the majestic moon was not clearly in sight. That was because, it was right overhead. Putting her knowledge on display, my sister pointed upwards and said "Aapko pata hai didi, jab moon sar par hota hai, tab hamara weight sabse kam hota hai." I grinned and looked up to thank Mr. Moon for granting some respite to a universally-criticized-for-being-overweight-girl. I do not know the logic behind this fact, nor the veracity of the same- but I am glad I locked eyes with the famously romantic moon.

With a halo of soft glow surrounding it, the moon surpassed it's own reputation for being one of the most alluring celestial objects. It glowed right down at me, and like a loser out of some romantic bollywood flick, I smiled back at it. On fewer occasions have I seen it more beautiful. Nascent out of an blanket of darkness, which first consumed it, and then revealed with care and titillation its radiance to the world, the moon was like this fresh damsel waiting to be appreciated by all. Why would I not get poetic? And then the focus shifted from its beauty, to its blemishes. These otherwise obscure spots were strikingly visible today, may be adding more to the moon's beauty (as the cliche goes), may be taking away from it. For me, they played the role of a memory bell, which rang hard to bring back to my mind the most touching of stories I heard this year, which is fast fleeting by.

It interests me to know the story behind each new individual I come across. All of us do have our stories, each distinct, each worthy of being told. I met many interesting people this year, heard many interesting stories, but there was this one which stuck by with remarkable obstinacy. I do not think I am the authority to be telling this story, still I will. Because I know this is one tale which will not simply breeze past my head once I feel I have absorbed it enough. I feel a need to put it into words. A simple, subtle, short story.

There was a girl in my college, a junior, who with humility in her disposition, sincerity in her eyes and sweetness in her smile immediately warmed my heart to her. She was one of the most active workers of WSDC, the society I presided over when in college and with whatever responsibilities she was given, did never let me down. I often noticed some hints of recalcitrance in her social interactions, but once given the confidence of being the ablest at discharging duties entrusted to her, she would work with tireless dedication to translate all our visions as a society into reality. I did also notice some abnormality in her skin sometimes, it appeared to me too wrinkled for her age. But I didn't think much about it, partly because of the fear of developing awkwardness while looking at her, and partly because of her face which I genuinely found wonderfully beautiful to look at. I did ponder over the possible story behind her ever smiling face, but never had time to ask or to sit down and listen to her.

This was till she herself told not just me, but our whole WSDC family a small part of her life's story in blue ink, on a couple of A4 sheets. We had organized a bilingual creative writing competition for pan-Delhi students, the best entries of which were to be published in our annual magazine "Being A Woman; Being Me". She participated, chose to express herself in Hindi and picked up the simplest, yet the most sacred of the themes to write her entry on- "Mamta Ki Chhaon". While I received the best of poems and powerful prose works under the same heading, hers was different- it was a simple tale of concealed poignancy.

I was right when I thought that the wrinkly skin she has was kind of abnormal. From what I got to know later, she was born with it, born with a rare skin disease. Belonging to an extremely humble background, she related how her mother told her later on in life the reaction her birth met with from the elder and insensitive relatives. Her's was not a celebratory welcome to planet earth. Her welcome was one ridden with shock, dejection and, as I hinted earlier, insensitivity. Firstly, she was a girl- and yes, my experiences within the framework of WSDC have taught me that large sections of Indian populace are still obsessed with the wont for a male progeny, which often leads them to lament the arrival of a girl-child. Secondly, she was not the prettiest of babies, as her so-called astute relatives saw it. The concerned relatives did not hesitate from labeling the new born as inauspicious, as a burden and best to be kept away from. And yes, I hope you could guess I am writing as euphemistically as I can.

However, God's abundant grace, encapsulated within the single body of her mother was what proved to be a lifelong blessing for that still unaware infant girl. Her mother was the one who saw all the beauty in the world in her daughter's innocent face. She was the one who resolved to not just take care of her child, but to help her grow into a smart and educated young lady. Her mother was the one who ensured not a single speck of dust ever touched her daughter as that could trigger off immediate allergic reactions. Her mother was the one who stood by her daughter and inspired her to consistently progress ahead. She always tried and is still trying to find a remedy for her daughter's skin condition, but that without ever letting her daughter feel that she lacks something or is different from others in anyway. Her parents have fasted for her; told her she is their adorable and intelligent daughter. The girl, on her part, admits, that if she is alive, it could not have been if not for her mother. She prays that each daughter born on our land be blessed with the kind of affection her mother showered her with.

I do not know if this is her story, or her mother's, but the beauty of a mother daughter relationship is that they are both inalienable parts of each others stories. Because their lives overlap, their stories do too. It is only one of those many stories I know, which is in the process of unfolding. I only hope the best for this girl who gave me the most memorable story of the year. And since this post has turned out to be very long, and I cannot find a fitting end to it, I will just leave the readers with these lines I read somewhere on the occasion of mother's day-

Motherhood makes women crib, complain, eat chocolates and cry. But ask any mum whether she'd barter it for anything in the world and you'll get one hurt, definitive answer. A big, fat, "NO".

What An Honor!

I was red in my face, but my heart was galloping. That feeling is best experienced. Back in college to see the society I nearly built in my last two years embark on another year long journey of activities, I had imagined I would be ridden with nostalgia of the worst intensity. However, ecstasy was the only emotion I could experience as my juniors made me feel so grand, and so special- they gave me the VIP treatment I have been giving all my guests who would grace the events I organized during my tenure as the President of WSDC. Right from the invite, to the honor of launching our magazine, to giving a speech for concluding the event, my day could not have been better.

WSDC was indispensable to my existence in college, and going back to pass the baton on to some very able juniors was an occasion for much joy and celebration. It was a near perfectly organized Orientation Ceremony, where all new members are inducted into the Society, with permissible goof ups here and there. The Chief Guest was an inspiring lady with strong oratorial skills; most importantly, she was a Civil Servant of the AGMUT Cadre, and my obsession and awe relating to Civil Officers is fairly famous. At points during her speech, she drove me to tears while describing things as basic as hygiene conditions which are largely deprived to a large section of Indian girls- both, because of economic, as well as issues of ignorance.

Leaving that serious thought there, the clear highlight of the whole day for me was when I launched the second edition of my magazine, so lovingly drafted last year by me and a few friends-cum-colleagues. It looks pretty- the cover from last year has been retained. It was perhaps one of the most ambitious literary excursions I undertook during my college life, and honestly, though nothing close to perfect, it is still very special. The way the magazine has come out, it is not so commendable in presentation, but has a very rich and pride-worthy content.

Pasted below is the Editorial (-cum-President's message) written for the same magazine, the cover for which is displayed on the right, above.

Time really flies fast. This is the worst cliché with which I could have begun the editorial for this magazine, but really, I cannot help it. The Women Studies and Development Cell was more than just a part of my personality in college for the past two years. Two years! Now that is a lot of time. However, it does not feel that way. There is so little we’ve done, and so much more we can still do. But, like all good things, my tenure as the President of this wonderful society is finally coming to an end. It is an eerie feeling to know that there will come one day when I would wake up, and WSDC activities would not form a part of my daily agenda. It is equally disheartening to realize that this little-big family I had cultivated among the members of WSDC will soon be estranged. I will move on, from WSDC, from college, leaving behind things which will adorn the most beautiful canvas of college memories for me.

So, as my last offering, I along with a team of some amazingly supportive members, present to all of you the second edition of ‘Being a Woman, Being Me.’ Our magazine is still in its nascent second year of being published, but from the first edition we published last year, it has certainly come a long  way. The first edition was experimental. More than anything, it aimed at providing a portal to our members for expressing that which affected them most. The magazine was received with much appreciation, but we knew in our hearts that we could do much better.

And so, when my team convened to put in place the themes for this magazine, their enthusiasm for bringing out a glazed finished product was palpable. We collectively decided to keep it simple; but we wanted to move ahead in a focused way. We pride ourselves on the kind of society we belong to and the kind of causes we espouse and fervently work towards. The first section of this magazine, hence, is dedicated towards highlighting issues of grave concern for females of all ages, strata and nationalities. We also knew that womanhood is not just about tears and melancholy-it is a celebration! Our second section is a tribute to the wonderful feeling that being a woman is. A poetess resided in the hearts of many of our society members. It was remarkable to notice the ease with which member girls of our society could express themselves via the relatively abstract medium of poetry and not prose. A third section was thus decided upon to provide a creative vent to the blossoming poetesses of our society.

Besides these three, a fourth very important section was born. While I was circulating our last year’s magazine among some NGOs and activists, a very unassuming confession was made by one of the NGO members about her inability to understand the magazine because of the linguistic barriers. I sat down to explain the varied topics which we covered in that magazine, and with more zeal for wanting to read it, she requested if I could attempt a translation of the whole magazine. Now that was a Herculean task to fulfill!  However, I made a mental note of the fact that if I am to ever again work on a magazine which has to have a larger mass reach, I have to make sure the linguistics don’t post a barrier. A first tiny step has been taken in that direction. We have introduced a Hindi section at the end of the magazine, which I hope, will only grow as successive editions of this magazine are born.

For anyone flipping through the pages of the magazine, I hope you stumble upon something that touches a nerve, that makes you stop and think. If that happens, the purpose of bringing out this magazine is more than solved. It goes without saying that I hold immense gratitude in my heart towards every single person who has contributed towards this magazine. I cannot end the editorial without thanking Ishani Tikku, who almost single handedly edited all articles for me, and treated this magazine with as much reverence as I did. I thank Rosemary and Priyanka Tampi, for their promptness in making the magazine visually attractive. I thank Ancy and Rohini for all their support. I thank Nikita Sailesh for being the tireless silent worker.

Most importantly, I need to thank my convenors- Dr. Amita Tiwari and Dr. Alka Marwah. I have gone on record saying that they are the best convenors we could have got, and I reiterate it most emphatically here. They were the prefect guides, motivators and friends throughout our endeavours. It comes from the heart- such was the faith they posed in us and encouragement they gave us that I could not have helped falling in love with them. For this magazine too, they were instrumental in giving me and my team all the necessary aid, guidance and assistance we most needed, and hence were pivotal to whatever the magazine has shaped up as.

Thank you all!

A quote would just do to provide the perfect end to this editorial. This quote coruscates in my best dreams. I share it all with you here, hoping it will inspire you as much as it inspires me.

“We live in deeds, not years: In thoughts not breaths; in feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.”

 

-Saumya Kulshreshtha

Editor, Being a Woman, Being Me

President, Woman Studies and Development Cell, JMC.

 

 

PS- You can also read the Annual Report of WSDC at  "From the Pen of the President, Women Studies and Development Cell, Jesus and Mary College"

 

Friends Again?

I do not remember exactly where it all started. My misfortune, however, lies in the fact that I remember precisely where it ended, how it ended. I felt miserable, asked too many questions- the answer to none was forthcoming.

Vision 1- Chirpy and casual, she would break the ice between some forty odd people by screaming a deafening, yet pleasant "Hi". Part of her attention would be deflected towards me, and after she moved on with a flowy gait to a next group of people, I remember being extraordinarily happy in my heart.

Vision 2- Fair, short and sweet, she sat like a sincere student with a purpose, eagerly eyeing me as I entered the small room. She was a competitor. She smiled. I smiled back, with a remarkable warmth in my heart. Stress of competition evaporated in that one moment.

Vision 3- First photo session. Group hugs. Cheesy messages. Eager letters. Class bunks. Medical Room. Copious tears. Tightest hugs. More photo sessions. Birthday surprises. Fake anger. Coaxing and cajoling. Montage. A photo montage.

This montage of not just images, but emotions, which makes me warm and happy right now, was ripped apart sometime back. How? It is quite a story, but quite a personal story. So, why do I write about it? I do, because the key actors from the three visions just cameback to piece the montage together. It looks pretty now. Majestic, in fact. And all the tears that had thus far been wantonly suppressed are now flowing out with vindictiveness. They're proven right. They're telling me- Bonds are fragile. Most of them. Not all of them. These ones were not. We told you.

Things between friends go awry all the time. Most unfortunate are the times when they go awry because one of them forgets to care. Forgets to care, but wants to care. Things get further complicated when the other person involved is a hyperbole of touchy, like myself. Sentimentality has its boons, as well as its banes. The blessings include an acute sensitivity to the thoughts and feelings of others. The banes include an acute and exaggerated sensitivity to the emotions and ideas of oneself. A combination of the two leads to a desire, easily transformed into actions, to care for the loved ones, and, expectations, many a times grossly defeated.

What I have tried to put into words in the above para is a rather laconical account of the cornucopia of thoughts flashing through my mind, making me live back few experiences which I would much rather forget. A long time, as I began to lose faith in everything fair and good, I kept on floating like a hollow vessel. Life seemed convenient. Don't care, don't expect to be cared back. Sounds simple, doesn't it?

But it is not simple. It can never be. Loving people, having bonds to hold close and rely upon, having friends who extend as a family- these are the essentials which make life beautiful, which infuse life in life. I have had such friends, who made life splendid for me, and then disappeared for a while. Only for a while. Now, I hear knocks into the door of my world again (Knocks more like unexpected rings on my cellphone). It a homecoming of sorts. The closeness is being welcomed again. The faith is being reignited. Whatever were the feels I thought I had gotten over, just like that last visit to college, are forcing their way again into not just my heart, but my being. I am feeling loved and blessed again.

And the hug- the grand and special hug- its as tangible as anything real. My two friends from college are hugging me again. We're hugging each other. And life seems bright once again. "Sunshine"- Did I tell you both that this is the sobriquet my journals recognize you with?

I don't want to be a bad person. I am not one, just a little distant. Lets cover the distances. This time I ask. What say? "Friends Again?"

Alive For A While

I am good with nostalgia. Really good. I can feel nostalgic about almost everything I have had an association with. For the past three years, I created an illusion around me. An illusion of having grown up. Growing up with an ability of tear-free moving on. So far, the illusion did not seem treacherous. The numerous farewells conducted in the college- in music society, the Economics Department, WSDC, and the big-grand-college farewell itself- none of them could lead to even an allusion of moisture in my eyes. It was so different from the school farewell, where I shed an epic amount of tears, right from the beginning, till the very end, and may be later as well. But now, as I graduated out of college, it seemed like the most natural course of things- not even for a second was I in denial. Everyone graduates, some with smile, some with copious tears, some with fondness, some with grudges- I think I was largely impassive. And that was because the emotions had not yet knocked on my door.

"I'll miss you"- this one sentence, when spoken at the end of a seven minute conversation, by a diminutive figure with benign eyes and a humble disposition, a person who epitomized respect, diligence and everything astute during college life, a lecturer who made you want to study, can make even the most somnolent feelings of loss which thus far you had been suppressing away to an obscure corner of your heart come alive. Dr. Ela Trivedi- this name was reverential in college. It still is. And after a rigorous lecture in International Trade to the nascent third year students, as she stepped out of Room 308 yesterday when I visited college, I could realize, with force that too, what will never come back to me after embarking on a journey beyond college. She meant well, inquired meaningfully, did not show any hurry- in short, she sent my way every emotion which did not reek of the slightest formality and which made me realize the strength of my association with this grand institution called Jesus and Mary College- its grandeur more palpable now when I look back as a spectator, not a part.

As she walked away, a faint tear did try to force its way out of my eyes. I wanted to just walk over to the fabled 308 balcony- where naps were taken, fests planned, books read, notes completed, rains enjoyed, gossip sessions held, secrets confided, sadness shared, photo-sessions undertaken- and spend a quiet moment with myself. May be I once again wanted to look down at the parking lot and guess by looking at the assortment of cars which teachers would definitely be inside college. May be I just wanted to stare at the JMC gate and imagine my friends approaching the building, their hand waving fondly at me. Or may be I wanted to just look at the sky and seek an answer to "Where now, what now?"

Yes, my heart did feel heavy, but it felt alive too. I was on a well deserved leave out of the plush corporate ambiance of Gurgaon offices, and breathing in the odours of familiar corridors of JMC. These were the corridors to which we were expelled when we forgot to carry a Sydsaeter and Hammond or an Allen Webster to class, and these were the corridors from which we shouted out desperately to get that one extra attendance when our lecturers did actually expel us. Now the same corridors were brimming with faces, both familiar and unknown. Around ten of these faces came forward to give me the extra-special hugs, typical to the kind of bonding which develops amid JMCites. Two of these faces held my hand and dragged me to the quiter corners of the college to ask, share, discuss everything that came to their mind. I don't know for how long they will, but right now, my juniors do miss me. They wanted to tell me so much, ask me so much- and all I could do was to apologize for the dearth of time. In this one day respite I got from buying and selling currencies(my current occupation), I had to live at least a thousand more moments which office life heartlessly deprives me of. It does, of course, more than compensate by giving me fun moments of a different kind; but the charms of the carefree yet responsible college life do inveigle me as of now.

Remembering the highs, consciously forgetting the lows, I write from this room which sequesters me from the travails of the life being led and the uncertain future to follow. I am, right now, allowed the luxury if being engulfed by memories which make me smile into nothingness. And as I do so, I remember faces
My professors-irrespective of the way we opined in college, they were not just the best professors, but sometimes, more than just professors. Friends do tag along, but these are the real treasures we leave behind.
My mentors- Nivya Nair and Swati Iyer- two seniors who lent me that knowledge of music which I never had the luxury of understanding..and they helped a lost kid find some comfort, some solace.
My juniors- they just made me feel like the most special person in college. The respect and the love I got, and I still get, leaves me indebted.
My friends- few,  but prized.
My best friends- fewer, but mine for life.

PS- And the book-shop wale uncle. I don't think anyone in the college can function without his kindness. I owe him so much, monetarily. Hopefully, my first salary will lessen the debts. Only the monetary debts. The near filial benevolence he showed, how can I ever pay back for that?

From the Pen of the President, Women Studies and Development Cell, Jesus and Mary College

Our logo, designed by Priyanka Tampi

an artist blessed by the Almighty

A few moments back, I signed for the last time as the President of the Women Studies and Development Cell, Jesus and Mary College. Nostalgia. I was drafting the Annual Report of WSDC, to be published in the the JMC Annual Magazine (and I cannot remember its name). For those who do not know, WSDC has been my alter ego for the past two years in JMC. It has been that aspect of JMC, which I have been most intimately attached to. My friends call me a 
workaholic, and I reckon that is because I enjoy working like nothing else. And, its been WSDC, which has given ample of avenues to work in, to take initiatives in precisely the direction I have desired and which has not constrained me in any manner whatsoever. I have had a mad, at times even a rough time working, but on not less than thirty times in the past year, I have had a smug smile on my somnolent face, reflecting the satisfaction in my heart at having done something constructive during the day.


With a member strength of more than 180, the year ahead did seem an uphill journey, but the cooperation of each one of them (with, of course, few disappointing exceptions) made my tenure as the President a smooth, delightful and memorable experience. We functioned as a single, cohesive, well functioning, and a well intentioned unit, and managed to succeed at endeavours that did not seem viable at the time of their inception. We've had our little failures, but they have only served at making us understand and learn a bit more, and improve as we go ahead. Personally, as the President, I received a lot of love, affection, and respect from my juniors, but the most gratifying was when I received a note from one of my batchmates, Ancy Thomas, congratulating me for my work and calling WSDC my 'baby'- something I have nurtured in the past two years to make it reach to the level it is at present. Of course, I could not have done it alone; many names are responsible for it having journeyed successfully this year.The most important among them, I feel, is the preceding President of WSDC, Rashneet Kaur- the most dynamic leader I have known, and a woman who essayed her role with a poise and perfection which was very nearly inspirational.

A satisfied Core Team after successfully concluding the
Declamation Competition
From left- Riya (my most trusted), Namita(the silent worker),
Sharon (her creativity on the board at the back), myself, Ishani (my magazine head),
Priyanka (whom I cannot work without, simply)

I can go on and on about my society, my WSDC, almost my doppelganger, but I feel its not required. Enclosed below is the report I wrote, and although its painfully concise (enlisting only about six of our twenty endeavours), I guess it reflects enough let readers know that we are a society with purpose. And dedication. And sincerity. I wish I could write more, but for that, I will wait for my own annual report- a ten page document that talks exclusively about WSDC


The Women Studies and Development Cell is one of the six compulsory societies of Jesus and Mary College. Until last year, our society enrolled members only from the second and the third year, but from the academic year 2010-11, we enlarged our membership to include girls from the first year also in our society. With a vision that aims at creating more awareness and sensitivity among the youth on gender related issues, and a desire in our hearts at contributing our bit in improving the adverse and prejudiced conditions for the fairer sex, WSDC does not aim for the stars; in stead, it looks to promote simplistic, and realistic ideas and thoughts, all of which point in the direction of general welfare of womanhood. In each of our member, we look forward to a sincerity and an incorrigible urge towards doing something constructive for the society.  WSDC has always made its presence felt on the campus, our last year being exceptionally successful with a plethora of diverse events being organized by us, viz., talks, seminars, workshops, cultural programmes, debates, etc. We, at WSDC, have a reputation of putting a lot of heart in what we do, and being in a progressive girls' college only aids us in all our endeavors.

Launch of the Annual Report 2009-10 during the Orientation Ceremony,
held on 18th August, 2010

The year began for us with the ritualistic Orientation Ceremony, where all the members are inducted into the society, and the year ahead is planned. At the same event, we also launched our facebook page, to keep our members better apprised of all our activities and to promote discussions on matters of concern. The Orientation Ceremony was followed by many more events, aimed at sensitizing the college students about different issues like Honor Killings, Female Genital Mutilations, Cervical Cancer, Human Trafficking, Healthy Food Habits, Girl Child and about a dozen more topics which directly or indirectly affect our existence as a society. One of the first proud moments for us was when Mr. Shiv Khera, a renowned motivational speaker and author visited our campus to address a full capacity audience in the MPH. He spoke about the Value System in the Indian Society, and the meaningful role played by womenfolk in preserving and upholding our values. WSDC, to emphasize its dedication at fighting the most pernicious of evils prevailing in our society, invited Smt. Sreerupa Mitra Chaudhury, President, International Congress of Woman and the Chairperson, Committee for Review of National Policy on Women, Government of India, as the keynote speaker for a National Level Symposium on Contemporary Social Evils on 12th November 2010. The Symposium was a resounding success and the topics discussed, viz, Honor Killings, Human Trafficking and Prostitution were further taken up by our member students as the theme for the Annual WSDC project, prepared and printed under the guidance of Dr. Nivedita Giri, with Namita Joseph as the student head. The President of WSDC, Saumya Kulshreshtha, who also serves as the Campus Ambassador of Teach for India, conducted a placement talk for JMC students along with the recruitment officer of TFI.


Our Annual Cultural Festival, Jagriti '11, only into its second year, attracted massive participation from many colleges across Delhi University. Besides holding events like Folk Dance Competition, Painting Exhibition, Creative Writing etc, WSDC also launched its official logo, designed by Priyanka Tampi, head of the WSDC Creativity Team.  The logo, a simple yet attractive illustration, reads 'Being Me'- a tag line inspired from our Annual Magazine- "Being A Woman, Being Me!". Our magazine was very well received and lauded by staff and students alike in its first issue last year. It is now ready as a new and improved magazine for its second print to be released soon. To cater to the very contemporary concerns of keeping fit, WSDC organized a Wellness Check Up Camp where many girls received valuable tips on a healthy lifestyle and diet. We also conducted a talk of the upcoming concept of Stem Cell Research and a Registration Drive for stem cell donors as a follow up of the same. One of the novel steps in the past year was to invite a counselor, Ms. Shifa Haq, on biweekly visits to our college, with whom, girls can share their problems and seek appropriate advice. Besides this, we conducted a declamation competition, a field trip to Ma Dham- a widow ashram, workshops by NGOs including Smile Foundation, and GDs to promote dialogue on several issues.

The banner for Women's Day

 The year for us culminated with a huge celebration of womanhood on 8th March, 2011- the International Women's Day. Many eminent speakers, including Ms. Barkha Singh, Chairperson, Delhi Commission for Women, Ms. Meenakshi Lekhi, a dynamic lawyer, Ms. Rama Vaidyanathan, a prolific Bharatnatyam exponent, graced the occasion. The event started by a captivating dance performance by Radhika Kathal, member of WSDC and a disciple of Ms. Geeta Chandran, and, it ended with a soul stirring Odissi performance by Ms. Kavita Dwibedi, Director of Odissi Academy, New Delhi.

Ready to host the Women's Day-
In style!

WSDC has always received a lot of encouragement and motivation from the Principal of Jesus and Mary College, Sister Marina John who takes keen interest in all our activities and guides us for improving at each step we take. WSDC is blessed to have as its Convenors Dr. Alka Marwaha and Dr. Amita Tiwari, who have never said no to any initiative we wanted to undertake. They have been wholly encouraging, and since the very beginning of the year, they had high expectations from us, expectations which we have hopefully been able to fulfill. A big, heartfelt thank you to all the member of WSDC core team- Rosemary Lobo and Nikita Sailesh in particular, for tirelessly working behind the scenes to make every single event a huge success.It would be appropriate also to thank Rashneet Kaur, who served as the WSDC President last year, for doing wonderful work during her tenure and laying a foundation for us to build upon. And, lastly, none of our events in WSDC can be made possible without the support of the non teaching staff, who aid us in all conceivable manners and work very hard to make every event of every department and society possible and successful.


-Saumya Kulshreshtha
President,
Women Studies and Development Cell,
Jesus and Mary College

Core Team of 2009-10
Seated to my left is the graceful and dynamic ex-President, Rashneet Kaur,
 whom I succeeded as the President this year

Resurrect the Sinking Ship, Light the Extinguished Lamp

"As dead dreams fall heavy on her  

she staggers out in tatters 

bruised breasts smell of raw flesh 

the soul weeps in the ashes 

of burnt apparels of dignity"

           -Dr. Rita Malhotra, Poet-Mathematician 

Life is laced with irony. Isn't it? What I till yesterday was touting as perhaps the best day of my life in JMC turned out the be the tragic last day of life of Radhika Tanwar, the now-much-hyped Ram Lal Anand student, killed by her own college mate. It was the International Women's Day yesterday, and being the flag bearer of as society which pledges to work for the rights and dignity of women in the college and society at large, I was celebrating it in gay abandon in the grandest auditorium one can come across in the University, isolated from the world. As the show moved on, I received a request on the stage to make an announcement cautioning the girls against moving to Satya Niketan, for some sort of a murder had taken place there. Having admonished the audience, I moved ahead with the programme, hell bent upon making it the best Women's Day Celebration JMC had seen ever. And so it became. And then, I got to know what a heinous crime had been committed less than a kilometer away from my college.

Let me get it straight here. I am NOT blogging because I feel threatened living in a city as 'unsafe' as Delhi. I have lived through my fair share of eve teasing incidents. Honestly put, they were gross, disturbing. I remember this rain washed day, I was walking down a road, short of money, walking in stead of taking a riskshaw, drenched head to toe. A black Santro stopped near me, and some veritably ruffian faces invited me to be seated with them in the car lest I fall ill because of the downpour. I was scared, but I reacted quick. Sought help from the nearest human I could spot, and fled in no time. Till date I wonder, if not for that man who helped me escape the place, what would have happened to me.

So, I started observing caution. Basic safety rules acquired paramount importance. Buses preferred to autos when during dusky hours, no opulent clothing when in bare view of public, moving with the crowd as much as possible, avoiding lonely spots, learning to trust no one. In simple language, I stopped trusting the public machinery for my safety, and this I say despite the fact that in the contemporary scenario of venom being spit on the government from all conceivable directions, I remain a believer in the state machinery. It is a convenient way of living. I hold trust in the state for protecting me, and I put in place all precautionary measures to protect myself.

Another, very clear and succinct reason behind this attitude of mine is a realization of the fact that if we really, truly want to bring about a change, any type of change, small or big, momentous or otherwise, we can do it much better by infiltrating the system, rather than standing up in arms against it. Our nationalist leaders recognized it during the freedom struggle. They called it 'wreck from within', I call it 'resurrect from within'. It is not idealistic, trust me. It is perhaps as pragmatic as it can get. Hurdles galore, I know and realize that, but historically, a path unto greatness has never been found which has not been laced with obstacles mammoth in size. Make a resolve today, and chase it unto the horizon, chase it till you win. If protests are your way of dealing with it, I support you with my wishes, not so much by my actions; but if protests are really your way of doing it, make sure you turn it into a Jessica Lall success(with a slightly twisted objective), and not one of those numerous Jantar Mantar protests which die down even before they are heard.

Am I allowed to give a very idealistic solution to this whole security mess that has been created? The practicability if this solution is nearly zero, but it's my blog, I am allowed even to be insane if it is my calling. There is a certain DCP Chhaya Sharma (refer article pasted below), who has turned one of the most crime prone zones in Delhi into a very safe and secure area, especially for females. I have had the good fortune of having shared a room with this firebrand woman IPS, the vanguard of the very successful models of safety employed in Delhi- the metropolis with the most shameful reputation with respect to civilian security. She looks purposeful, almost invariably, almost always. If possible, however bleak or miniscule this possibility, please get her to the South Delhi Campus, and give her a chance to set up a model for our campus, which is home to five of the best girls' colleges, and yet, has a very justified ignominious reputation as far as law and order is concerned.

I don't know how this sounds, but losing hope, is not my way. India is a country of great paradoxes. While we rant on about how the rural poor live in conditions of abject destitution, there is model I always like to keep in mind as I advance ahead with my bureaucratic ambitions. It is the model of a village called Hivre Bazar, which was almost on the brink of a collapse, with massive penury and resource scarcity leading to an exodus of locals into nearby villages. Today, that same village is home to 54 millionaires, with an infrastructure which can put even towns to shame, and all this change is the result of the efforts of a few enterprising young individuals, who sought the Constitutional path to revolutionize a society for which 'hope' was too far fetched a word. They were visionaries, the question is, how many of us can pursue a cause with as much dedication as they did. They took advantage of only two amendments to the Constitution, the 73rd and 74th, but more than anything else, it was their conscientiousness, pragmatic dynamism, and their WILL which caused the change. How many of us have that fire within us?

Our country is a great country, but it is in dire need of able, empowered and, as earlier stated, conscientious young people to cultivate an irrevocable feeling of belonging towards it. Doing something for the country should not be an onerous duty, but a sweet responsibility. I cannot live without hope. Yesterday, a candle was extinguished. Tomorrow we'll light a million more. And yes, while I do insinuate towards the candle light vigil organized tomorrow at Satya Niketan at one thirty, to which all of you are, of course, invited, what I actually mean is that if we actually, genuinely feel disturbed by the hideous crime committed, the flame should be lit within us, so that darker anti social elements, who come from among us are banished forever. Demanding security is a primary right, but try and do this without allowing Radhika Tanwar, a beloved daughter to now grieving parents, to be come a media doll used for lambasting aimlessly at the state mechanisms. As I said earlier, try and not wreck, but resurrect.

Musings Of An Exam Ravaged Mind- Faces

Last year, for most part, was a rigmarole. It was a story I will tell myself many a times over. On the highway to Agra, our car fled at a nauseating speed. I could not keep pace with the surroundings gushing past me. Giving up, I yet again allowed myself the luxury of drifting away into dreams- to recall to mind every single scene from 2010 that had to be included here. First, I saw my college. Then the exam hall. Then the pen in my hand which refused to budge. Then the confused, panicky, frustrated, helpless expression on my face. And finally, I saw her. She was giving me the most awesome comfortable smile from across the room. The smile was comfortable because it shared my most notable reaction to the exam paper-helplessness. She continued writing, while I let her thoughts linger longer as the exams paper was simply beyond me. I could think only this- "Pallak, you are incredible!"

I have hated Pallak for most of the past year. The reasons remain secret between us. However, I cannot deny the fact that the unthinkable miracle of surviving in an all girls' college has come true only because of her. This girl is a phenomenon- a packet of unbelievable energies. She is perfect for almost every one. The misery attached with finding faults with her is exclusively mine to savor. She may be infallible for the rest, but never can be for me. I think her greatest fault is her incapacity to realize that she is missed acutely, every single moment my eyes are deprived of her. Every morning, I await her arrival eagerly. I am almost fidgety till she comes. When she finally does, and starts off babbling on an amplified version of the most mundane thing in the world, thats when I calm down, and smile at the knowledge that college is not yet over. She is still around.

The Year 2011- I really hope she gets a boyfriend this year, so that I can intervene is time to save the poor guy from putting his own head under a guillotine!

I often lament what a thankless job being a good friend is. This lament ceases by its own when the face of this incredibly cute, and outrageously hardworking junior of mine comes to mind. Niyati. I would have been on anti depressants and in consultation with a psychiatrist to cure me of work tensions had this girl not kept of magically manifesting at the venues of all the events I did, with her consistent reliable and adorable presence, without so much as the expectation of a 'thank you' in return. Shameless me! I hence ignored the basics, and was only disturbed by grossly selfish, sporadic late night fears that she might get irritated and back off. Stupendously surprising- she never did. She worked even harder, and always gave me the respect and affection I craved for. She has a unique way of loving people and expressing that love. My days inevitably turn brighter when she lends a helping hand, or an eager ear to hear out my silly confabulations. She is selfless, giving-she is everything I aspired for but gave up. May be, she is my faith reignited.

The Year 2011- A wish for her I will whisper into her ears. This year has something really big in store for her. Am sure.

Most of my past year, like the year before, and like the year the year before has been spent away from the college in the preferred company of my male buddies. Two of them in particular worked handsomely well in helping me combat the nightmares of an all pervasive female company. These two, veritably, are my nocturnal anodynes. No matter what my state the day before; a night conversation with them almost always makes me wake up with a goofy smile on me face.

Akshat aka Mittal- His love for English language is what drew me towards him. It felt fantastic the way I could throw the most grandiloquent sentences at him without the apprehension of being met with a contempt-filled stare in return. With an insatiable urge to learn, he forced me to marvel as to how a person as learned as him could still be searching for newer bites of knowledge in every nook and cranny of the world around. As well as he learns, he can teach too. He has taught me a great many things. Not just new words, but newer dimensions to view basic things in life from. An intrinsically beautiful thing he made an exceptional effort of inculcating in me was confidence in my own self. He once called my clattered brain 'clear headed' and I believed it. I have believed it ever since. It is a good feeling. Any frictional trysts in life and both of us are on the phone seeking advice from each other. The catch is, even though we know what the other is precisely gonna say, it is always wonderful to hear it out in words, from each other.
The Year 2011- I wish his writing habits improve from where they stand, and the year 2011 witnesses the beginning of his blog, for he really write stuff which is readable and appreciable to say the least.

Namit- He is one of those wonderfully enigmatic friends of mine, who humbles me by his very presence most of the times. It was around the end of 2009 that I met him, and it took me whole of 2010 to discover and understand him. I am still trying very very hard to comprehend the arcane world he inhabits. Hi persona is one of ease and comfort. Bluntly said, I consider myself superlucky to be among the closer circle of friends of this hyper social bee, which goes on buzzing from person to person. Sometimes, it is wonderful to just listen to him speak. Yes, I complain all the time about his scant audibility, but that is only because I like to absorb every single word he utters. His subtle mannerisms are inspiring. His affectionate presence cheers me up. He cares like its the most natural thing in the world to do. He asserts where he knows its important for me to learn. He is an elder embodied in a friend- the sort I would have definitely missed the 19 years of mine life he was not around.
The Year 2011- I really wish he were inebriated more often, so that I could hear his expressions unleashed a lot more times than I actually get to. On second thoughts, giving up liquor altogether does not itself seem like a bad idea. Anyway, the first one serves my purpose better.

I had a more than wonderful life before college began. Sadly, very few elements of my precollege life still inhabit my world. One of them is Mayank- My companion for all seasons of life. He is dependable to an extent that is gets frustrating. If there is anything in this world that I need, it can't be that he does not have it. One typical characteristic of his' is his eerie clairvoyance, especially in matters related to me. Nothing I do or say goes unnoticed by him. That I am a fabulously bad actor is a fact testified by him- no matter how much I conceal, the texture of my voice almost always gives it away. Last year, every time life felt tumultuous, I sought his company. And then, over a cup of corns and a big Embassy special Samosa in CP's Inner Circle, all turmoil magically subsided. I was once again ready to laugh at insane decibels on jokes that only we both understand.
The Year 2011- As banal as it may sound, I really wish you propose to that girl. And I wish this in pursuit of pure self interest.

My life in 2010 more or less revolved around these five faces. A 'thank you' is not good enough to express anything, but I must say it still.

My post would have ended here had it not been for that fateful rendezvous on 19th December, 2010, over three glasses of cold coffee, with two of the most offensively awesome people I have ever known. In what was supposed to be my year end post, it is only apt that I remember thanking them too. There are few people you just feel lucky after meeting. These two most definitely fall in that category.

• Arpit Goel- Although in the past two years of our acquaintanceship I have lost my temper on him a minimum two hundred times, I can never forget a very valuable lesson he taught me. It is, how to 'chill'. Yes. He is a champion at 'chilling', I mean, leading a chilled out life. Without that having been foisted on me, I would have never lived through the amount of work I load myself with. It took me time to start admiring him, but once I began, his candid talks, his humble ways and his casual demeanor only made my fondness for him grow. It keeps growing still.
• Twishmay Shankar- "You must write a blog. I think you would be good."-it was he who said it during one of our rare gtalk conversations about two and a half years back. That was the first ever time Nascent Emissions was conceived in my mind. I thank him for it. Besides, I also thank him for offering me astounding alternative perspectives on things we all deem basic- perspectives which seemed preposterous at first, but invigorating and inviting once my humble brain grew up to them. He has a grand personality, inimitable (and a little intimidating for poor souls like me), the sort that invariably leaves an impact. He left one on me for sure.

Thank you both for making my last month eventful. Thank you all for making my life so splendid.

"And the days went by like paper in the wind. Everything changed, then changed again. It's hard to find a friend. It's hard to find a friend."

"And the days went by like paper in the wind. Everything changed, then changed again. It's hard to find a friend. It's hard to find a friend."