Don't Lose The Tender Touch

Don't lose the tender touch,

My friend.

I know life is unfair

I know you've known despair.

Life hurts and haunts and

Kills your joy

It messes and snatches

Your favorite toy

But like a stringent parent

It only means to teach

Lessons in love and truth

In bliss beyond our reach

You have it in you

It'll always remain

Don't lose the tender touch, 

My friend.

I remember the day

When you'd relentlessly pray

That when you woke up

Your love had come back

You opened your eyes up to pain

Reality seemed like a devilish trap

Not trap, 'twas but a test

With no wrong or right.

Go ahead, don't fear

Win the test of life

Love flows through you

It has no end

Don't lose the tender touch

My friend

Each failure, each step taken wrong

Is His attempt, in making us strong

Remove the facade

Let love touch you

The world is waiting

Kiss the brightest hue

I know a door has closed forever

But don't you hear the knocks on others?

Flash your brightest smile, 

Wear your heart on your sleeve

It won't break, don't fear

To many out there, you're precious and dear

Feel, and breathe and

Preserve the essence

And never ever lose the tender touch, 

My friend.

To all those who feel life has been unfair, this is my plea. Stop for a second, and count your blessings. You will never know how fortunate you are till you see another one survives on less than half of what you have been bestowed with. Gandhiji's Talisman has a relevance in our world. Consider yourself fortunate if you can touch someone's life and make him smile. Extend the horizon's of your life to accommodate those many people who love you, who want to be loved by you. Flash your warmest smile to them, and give them an unexpected hug, a careful kiss. Make them believe you'll be there even if you fear otherwise. Don't cage all that love inside you. Let it flow around, let it touch lives. If you've been hurt, you would know how feels. Being hurt should empower you for protecting someone else from hurt, for applying balm an someone else's wounds. Live and love. Its only one life which all get, dear friend.

A picture is worth a thousand words

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.

Fledgling Affection

"So, what would be the top five things you do if the 2012 fiasco were to happen?"
Kanika Chaturvedi left this query for me @twitter a day before. I had never given it a thought. If the world were to end, as has been predicted in some quarters, in the year 2012, what would be top five things I would want to do? The high bred among my stock of friends would snub the query, as useless confabulations of some vacuous brains. But it was an interesting note to have welcomed in the year 2012 with. So, I tweeted.

The first interesting detail I would remember from the year 2012 would be the following five points, which are the innocent first thoughts to have entered my brain. I find them naive and cute at the same time, and I am copy pasting them straight from twitter. Of course, with slight bit of my musings accessorizing them at their tail end.

#1 I have letters to write. I want to finish them before the world ends.

As said earlier, I love the whiff of paper. There are certain traditional paradigms, which, I wish, had not been hijacked by the technology which establishes itself as an omnipotent deity at present.  Writing letters is a romantic's delight! Quite obviously, hence, it is mine. There are some I started on. Some are pure cheese and corn mixed together to let my special ones know they are special. Some others are important confessions of guilt, hurt and anger which I wanted to convey to dear kith after putting thought and heart in it. They lie incomplete. But they are cozy reminders of how much I value those who make my world. And if it were the world, my world coming to an end, these I intend to complete as a first priority. Sounds bollywood-ish? Well, that's what I grew up watching. (

#2 There is a large chunk of Italian Cuisine I still have to taste. Learning it won't make sense anymore.
To call myself an inveterate foodie would be an understatement. I recently started falling for Italian cuisine, realizing quite late that luscious Italian culinary specialties are naturally made for me. I am 'cheesy' and 'corny' in my thoughts and writings, may be also in my appetite. Those dollops of cheese of a dozen different kinds, that creaminess, that subtle aroma of herbs, and the generous quantities of corns and mushrooms in different preparations- this is stuff that dreams are made of. Give chocolates and give me cheese- I won't have a single regret before dying then.

#3 There are some people I met via WSDC/EOC interactions, who are in need of urgent smiles and warmth. They will take my attention.

Hugs and smiles in copious quantities, to everyone walking past by. On a serious note though, being at the helm of organizations like Women Studies and Development Cell and Equal Opportunity Cell made me come across some faces and some stories that can touch anyone at the softest spot in their heart. These were stories of courage, of despair, of honesty, of losses, of dreams, of daring, of tears and of smiles. The faces behind these stories, some at least, don't need, but deserve some genuine smiles and warm hugs. 2012 or not- this one thought I intent to keep. At some places at least, we should not procrastinate.


#4 I dream of a novel. To compensate hastily, I will compile Nascent Emissions into a book, printed with a jazzy cover, & kiss it when done.
It was supposed to be a secret dream, but the moment I posted on twitter, being a published author no longer remained secret, but it still remains a dream. I realized it a moment too late, but the thought of the alternative devised to suit the requirements of ending time filled me with mirth. Nascent Emissions forms an important part of my subconscious, I realized. And why should it not? It has been a companion for the most special of my thoughts and ideas.

#5 I will marry!

Oh yes! This, I will. Now is not the best time to write on it, because I am filled with the visions of passion which surface when Elizabeth Turner (the heroine of a compelling Barbara Bradford historical fiction which I am reading currently) meets her love and is consumed by it before she can take another breath. However, this is perhaps the most important part of my top five. So, even though the visions are their, describing them is a near impossible task. I can only share a chuckle and some knowing smiles with other fellow romantics, females specifically, for they would know why this wish. All this romance, it has to go somewhere, isn't it?

Thanks Kanika Chaturvedi, for being the idea behind this post. More gratitude for giving my these silly smiles and thoughts. Not all of them are silly though. He was an intelligent man who asked us to live each day as our last. To do a few things mentioned above, and a few more things which are pullulating inside my brain, I do not really need to wait for the end of the world. What should be done, must be done. So, except for the marriage bit, I shall do all. Its a better note to begin the year on, rather than resolving to lose weight, because, as Sonal Kalra puts it, 'woh hota toh hai nahi'.

And now that I mention her name, I am also reminded of the fact that I wanted to dedicate my first post of the year to the people I love. But Ms. Sonal Kalra stopped me. In her casual yet persuasive tone, she churned out another priceless set of calmness tricks, this time on the first day of 2012. Her article, titled Are You Ready To Fall In Love? was about just that, falling in love, not with anyone, but your own self. Her fabulous quill yet again worked its magic, and made me want to dedicate the first post of they year to myself. I will heed her advice and not spend the year seeking the approval of others. I will make sure I have my own.

“To fall in love with oneself is the beginning of a life long romance.” –Oscar Wilde

PS- All this new blissful affection, its my new year gift for myself. I believe in gifts, remember? I hope you all do to :) Love and best wishes for a great year(s) ahead! Even though my most clairvoyant friend thinks this is the last, I'm happily assuming the opposite.

Mere liye :)

Winter Warmth

Giving gifts is essential. Call me a nutcase for it, but I firmly believe and maintain it. I read somewhere, that gifts are better than promises. I do not know under what dimensions, but this seems like an uncannily true line. Now, gifts do not always have to be tangible. At times, they can be in the form of just gestures. In either case, what counts for me is not the size, cost, color, texture, usability, et al, of the gift- but simply the thought behind it. Thoughtfulness is what separates a perfunctorily exchanged gift from a truly special, heart warming, talking,loving gift- which someone would adore and remember for centuries (as we may delineate time under the influence of cheesy romanticism)

So why these random murmurings today? Well, in the past two days, I have been blessed with two new people in life- each who brought a different kind of gift-cum-gesture for me with his/herself. While what they gave me was really special, what was more special were the people themselves. They, I am forced to believe, were the actual gifts the holiday season brought along for me. A little something about them.

A Listener

She has elaborately mentioned details of our first meaningful tryst on her own blog, Yarn Of Words, a perfect virtual hangout for hopeless romantics like me. So,what I will tell you of Aakriti Malik, an elder sister for me, is not that she gifted me an image of my own while she sat in front of me; but that she blessed me with the valuable comfort of listening to all my ramblings without judging me in the least. Yes, it is a blessing to be able to stumble upon someone unexpectedly, who connects with you instantly at more levels than you can recognize at once. And if the same person also is an amazing listener, who promises not to judge you while you share thoughts and angst intimate to you, who respects you even for your mortal shortcomings, who wants to hold your hand as you start shivering a little under the influence of your own uncomfortable thoughts- you know the moment you are living is a gift. A rare, special, precious one.

The fact that we have the same proclivities, same phones, same kind-of crushes, same convictions, same romanticism ingrained deep within us only adds to the beauty of what we shared in the short time we've known each other. At times, what we write for ourselves curiously answers the other person's predicaments. I've known her from my pre-blogger days, as a senior in college- but its only here that I could connect so beautifully with such a beautiful person. So even though I have hated online interactions for taking the soul out of human attachments- blogger made a reverse process happen for me. Online interactions, for once, intensified attachments for me. And sure as hell am I glad for that!

A Smile. A Huge, Persistent,  Persuasive Smile.

This was the second most amazing gift I received in a span of two days. More than just a smile in fact. In parts, I have a sequestered existence. With that, I have my sequestered old world notions, a crippling inability to get over things which the technology driven world is leaving behind. Having my ecological austerity in the right place, I still love the whiff of paper. I have always favored greeting cards (the tangible, paper-made ones)  as an amazing mode of conveying simple and warm thoughts, at times even without any reason or season. My ill luck- in the past one and half years (I remember distinctly), only 3 greeting cards have made their way to my collection (In my charming younger days, around 30 cards could be exchanged on any single occasion). To make matters worse, out of those three, two I bought for myself on MY birthday. Desperation, you see.

However, deeply thankful am I to an ever smiling and outrageously humble person, who goes by the name of Rohan Manchanda, for recently making that significant addition to my collection. A year my junior, Rohan, besides being one of the smartest, is also one of the humblest species of BITSians I have come across (oh yes, he totally belongs to that distinguished institution), While I was preparing to greet him with my foul morning temper, exacerbated by the fact that I was a little cross with him over something, the thoughtfully prudent Mr. Manchanda gifted me some colorful scribbles in a dainty little card. If I were a little less sleep deprived, I might have sat down and giggled as I read through the first line of his creativity. It could be my compliment of the year. But, that put aside, I was happy to have made a new friend who was capable of sharing contagious smiles. Himself a brilliant writer, Rohan has been a constant source of not encouragement, but enthusiasm behind many of my recent writings. And the kind of respect he has held towards me, despite me not seeing any reasons behind it, has given me those secret, narcissistic moments of bliss.

Thank you Rohan and Aakriti Di. December began on a particularly morose note for me this year. I sense that changing.

Thank you Saurabh, for just lurking around and being the support I often forget to acknowledge.

Winters feel pleasantly warm now :)

Winter Reminiscences- Favorite Delhi Moment

Delhi is a city for the romantics! Whether the Victorian air which greets you as you enter its heart in Connaught Place or the priceless remnants of Mughal and Sultanate architecture which grant it the haunting, old world feel- Delhi will offer you numerous picturesque backgrounds to write your story against. All it needs is the explorer in you, which wants to indulge in its deep set history, and usurp those facets- tangible and intangible- of Delhi life, which grant it its distinct charm. I am, veritably, in love with Delhi! And why not- this is the city which makes me the incorrigible romantic that I am, by giving me such moments which become fond, indelible beauties on the canvass of my memories.

A pity it is, that despite having spent my whole life here, I have primarily explored the city through books and internet. Growing up constraints. But independence brought with it the coveted opportunity of actually going out and understanding and appreciating the city in all its hues. So then, whether it was the monuments, the food, the culture, or the people- I reached out to all that I knew made Delhi special. And this time, the smells, the touches, the emotions, the tastes, the smiles, the textures, the colors- they were all exclusively mine to savour.

Past year was especially brilliant for me, as far as exploring Delhi is concerned. It was a little slow too, because I thought I had discovered my favorites in the city. Janpath, Dargah of Nizam-ud-din Auliya, North Campus alleys, SDA Market Coffee shops, Lotus Temple, Taj CCD, inter alia, top my list of favorite Delhi hang outs. But a decisive winner made its way to the top of this list in October this year. With my best friend in Delhi, and a cooperative weather to make me smile, I thought I might not get a better chance of visiting this one place in Central Delhi I had always wanted to explore. Agrasen Ki Baoli. For those of us who are in love with Mayank Austen Soofi's Delhi diaries, we cannot not know about this place. But visiting it in person is an altogether different experience. And this I discovered on the 19th of October, 2011- what I also like to remember as my favorite Delhi moment from this year.

We reached there early morning. Me and this extremely special friend of mine. Situated a little further up on a small detour off the Hailey road (near Kasturba Gandhi Marg)- one which you are most likely to miss- Agrasen Ki Baoli is not an easy to find monument for first timers. But a cooperative autowallah, content to receive 30 bucks for a 25 rupees worth of journey from Rajiv Chowk, helped us locate it in no time. An unmistakable mustiness greeted us as we stared down the 104 steps of this Baoli. As we later learned from each other, my friend and I resolved almost in our first glimpse down the steps to be back here, back whenever we felt like escaping the pace of life, back whenever we thought serenity would not come so cheap to us at any other place.

Baoli-literally a stepwell. Stepwells were constructed by ancient and medieval rulers as respite zones from scorching heat of Indian summers. There are some more in Delhi, but this one is known to be the most charming. As you will figure out when you visit, the plaque outside its entrance declares it as 'Ugrasen Ki Baoli', but common nomenclature replaces the 'U' with an 'A' to alter the eponymous ruler's identity who is credited to have built this stepwell. At its sides are built some mysteriously inviting niches and chambers, and a staired passageway which leads you to the very top of the reservoir which has now dried up completely. Its popularity and maintenance are both poor. Not many people frequent the place, and in the close to three hours we spent there, it was mostly college students who came, descended to the base of the stairs, and then left as quickly as they came.

We sat around for a long time. It was just very peaceful. Seemed like the perfect place to think, to slow down, and to have a heart-to-heart conversation. When you climb down to a sufficiently low level, you can see just the CP skyline merging with the ancient stones of the Baoli. Nothing else of the concrete world is visible. You feel like you are in two different eras at the same time. Your ambitions want to see you ascend to the top of those tall buildings, your emotions want to restrain you to the tranquility this musty, stagnant well has to offer. Ennui can sometimes be pleasing. And satisfying.

My reverie was broken by the thoughtful look on the face of my friend. Something told me that what I am about to share with this really special friend of mine now is going to be entrenched in my memory forever. I was not wrong. He is a friend I like to call my own; but complications and complacency had both crept in to portend a ruin for perhaps the most special relationship I have nurtured over the past few years. May be it was the feel of being in a time warp, may be it was the calming lull of the surroundings- something enabled me to confess my fears and sadness to him from behind a blur of tears. Some intimate thoughts were then shared. Some dreams, some responsibilities reminded. We went home with a better understanding of each other. We went home a little happier.

A friend, some tears, some words. Delhi's old world beauty in the background. Does one need more to live that cherished, loved, special moment?

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?

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."

Musings Of An Exam Ravaged Mind- Intro

The dreamer in me almost invariably surfaces in it's full strength and color each time the word 'examination' is even remotely sighted in my life. It is the case with many I know; but with me its exceptionally beautiful. Brutal too. I have spent the most pleasant moments in the world of my imaginations where for once I can live everything I find lacking in my life- I can be an artist crafting murals on the opposite wall, I can be a free bird taking a lone vacation in Nainital only to read, write and drink coffee, I can be the topper of my college (University actually!), or I can be singing in a concert, mesmerizing multitudes with my voice. And all this I can do only till my gaze does not flicker to my illegibly scribbled notes and the clock in rapid succession. Then, I am doomed!

Now that I reflect on it, I feel stupid, funny and angry. I screwed up my exams; but that's consistent. So no anger or frustration there. I feel angry and stupid at having postponed my New Year Celebrations, and along with it, an associated ritual I am particularly fond of. Now, what use was it all? I spent the New Year's Eve studying, and the subsequent two days frolicking. I am failing my papers as it is. Had I not studied I would have failed by a greater margin. Big deal! Huh!

Now, the ritual. As the dying moments of every passing year erect a sepulchre of memories above my head, I only patiently gaze up, and see images of the best and worst spent moments strewn across the sky. Then I absorb. I experience. I live it again. Finally, I write.

Last night was particularly daunting for me. I feared that the pleasant nostalgia I experience while ruminating on the past year would have ebbed away by now. Worse- it will go unrecorded this time. I was wrong. It intensified. And I felt happy. For a change, for once, I was not harrowed by the negative visions from the past. I was, rather, greeted by a montage of some really pretty/handsome faces who formed a very fond part of my past year, and who will continue much beyond into my future. My bright future. My dismal future. My great future. My not-so-great future.

After this particularly long introduction, it is these faces whom I want to pay an ode to through this post. My diary knows enough about them- its time my blog marvels at the enviable assortment of friends I have who make my life splendid, tough, royal, ridiculous- all at the same time.

It is in the following entry that I will introduce them all to my blog. Not all of them are friends- some are subtle sources of inspirations, who offer me alternate perspectives to view life from. But all of them, every single one of them have two things in common-
1. They are people I absolutely respect, 'cuz they all humble me with whatever they embody within themselves.
2. They are the highlights of the year 2010 for me. Besides being with me the whole year, they all have taught me a lesson or two- something that will stay with me for a long time to come.

Right now, Agra beckons. Yes, after a hectic examination time, I am off to Agra to spend some time in the relaxed company of relatives. I'll return to my blog on Monday.

My Happiness Pill

It was one of those days again. Exactly one of those days. Grey days. Blue days. Whatever they are called. Days, when i ask myself too many questions. Or may be one single question. I let the question(s) take root in my mind, become a part of my subconscious self, assimilate information and experience required to arrive at an answer...and then, answer blossoms in my mind even before i know it.

However, what i was thinking, rather, asking myself today, was both, unwelcome and perplexing. To add another word, the specific time i chose to reflect and concoct answers, also made this question ironical.

"Why do friends become so important to us in life, that after a point, it starts hurting?"
(In case the paradox is not ostensible, it is the first Sunday of August today, which the world celebrates as Friendship Day)

I woke up in the morning, and cast a half open glance at the slightly ajar door of my balcony. Hardly any light was coming in. It was dark, overcast, I could make out. I pulled my knees close to my chest, tightly wound my hands around my bosom, and gave myself the warmest hug I could, to counter the effects of the chilly air flowing into the room, and then sprang out of bed. With eye lids refusing to cooperate, i somehow managed to locate my slippers, but accidentally placed my feet on the icy floor. Within a matter of seconds, a current of chill ran up my legs, and my spine, hit my head, and culminated into a smile. The same, old, faint, silly- my favorite smile. Thus i proceeded on my 'arduous' walk to the balcony, ten heavy steps....

I collapsed on the cold balcony floor, in an attempt to embrace what nature was offering. It was colder than inside the room, so i brought myself closer together, once again pulled my knees to my chest, and started imagining the aroma of coffee beans. Had only been a second, when my 'pet' tree, right across my balcony, broke out into a dance- gracefully swaying side to side first, and then going wild, mad, to the tune of the flowing breeze. My tree was welcoming me to become a part of this private celebration of nature, whatever was left of it amid the chaos of brick and mortar which we call our 'habitat'. Having performed the invocation, my tree invited all the other trees, and birds, and clouds, and winds, and rains, to join in this mad revelry, and they all gladly acceded.

What then ensued in front of me is not in my capacity to describe. Any other person would have described it as a heavy, torrential shower. But, was it just that? There were people down in the street, scurrying in all directions to look for a shelter. Hapless people. The more fortunate of us homo sapiens were the half naked street kids, splashing in the puddles, laughing, shouting, dancing....being purified, washed clean directly by the heavens. I broke into a subtle laughter at their sight, and started enjoying the raindrops being tossed in my direction after hitting the balcony railing. I was happy. Innately happy. Infinitely happy. These weren't just rains. This was the most basic and personalized invite that the heavens sent to all of us, to, for once, abandon our synthetic existence, and befriend nature. I did.

I sent a 'thank you' in the direction of my 'pet' tree, which has been my friend ever since i shifted to my current accommodation. Initially frightened by it's eerie silhouettes in the dark of the night, it soon became my companion for the solitary moments i spent in the open, often understanding and sharing my thoughts. Today as well it was listening, as i asked myself a question, and then quickly rubbished it. This very question had caused an immeasurable disarray in my interiors about a day or two back, but today, it was inconsequential. There was a reason to it. And i want that reason to know that it was the reason for the calm and balance i expreience right now.

I met a friend yesterday. A friend, who has forever been a friend, a close friend, but separated by large distances. When i felt cold today, i remembered the warm hug my friend gave me yesterday. When the damp weather's chicanery was coercing me to become gloomy, I rememberd this friend's laughter and his concern for my happiness. When strange thoughts were complicating my routines, i rememberd his simple ways and his humble eyes. I was elated, elevated, and infinitely comforted.

At first, I could not recognize him. He appeared from amid a crowd, his bag hung over one of his shoulders. I knew he was coming, that is why i was waiting for him, yet, the first glimpse i caught of him was laced with disbelief. I was still not humble to the fact that i would, finally, be getting to spend time, in person, with him. He looked better, smarter than ever i had known him to be. He in no way looked dapper, all his charm emanating from the casual, easy way in which he carried himself. His manner was courteous, yet not even a feeble measure of formality streaked his demeanor. His smile was contagious- i call him my own brand of "happiness pill". The best thing about him- he made me feel at home.

He made me realize that dubious questions, such as the one quoted in the beginning, are nothing, but a travesty of the word 'friendship'.

Sitting diagonally across me, with a hot cup of Mocha in his hands, (and a semi alcoholic Irish Coffee in mine), he incited me into self dialogue as to why such a special friend is to be separated by such long distances. We jabbered incessantly about everything that came to mind. We took short, reflective breaks to understand and absorb the importance of the time being spent together. We gave each other little gifts, for this is the only time of the year we could meet, but those gifts in no way could amount to even an approximate measure of how loved we wanted to make each other feel. "The more I think it over, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." The artist inside me was failing me. I had wanted to tell him so much more, hear so much more, share so many thoughts, tears, laughter....

Time for departure was too quick to come. I was sad. Little. I was happier to have met him. He has a little thing about him, which revives my faith in everything good and positive around me. I live for my friends; but when it starts getting too much, he inspires me to perfect the balancing act, and not sway to the extremes. The people i love, and begin to hate because of unfulfilled expectations, suddenly become blame free, and i give myself a slight rebuff for letting negativity brew in my head. The good part is, despite being benevolent and magnanimous, he never makes me feel indebted. He says its mutual, and i comfort him as much as he comforts me. I like to believe it. Its so easy to be friends this way. He holds infinite respect for me, as i for him, and while respecting each other, we learn to respect every other good thing/person in our life which deserves to be respected.

My tree still stands there. It has noticed the droplets forcing their way out of my eyes. In its reckoning, i was infinitely happy, so why the droplets? I don't know. May be i am sad for not having been able to give him a last, warm hug as he disembarked from the metro at Rajiv Chowk, and mumble an apology. May be i am happy (mushy-happy), and i have been happy for so long that it can no  longer be contained inside me. May be i am both. One thing for certain- this friend will remain with me, even when that tree dies down. If ever he goes away, I will understand that there must be a reason for it. This season, and the next, and the next...i'll remember to smile whenever the rain fed weather's beauty is beyond description, for it is on one such day, i spent the most marvellous moments of my life with you.

Keep my faith breathing....

The Last First Day....

It is happening....

It had to happen, but, now, it really is happening.

My last year in college has finally begun. Today was my first day in college. The campus, which till only yesterday was deserted, quiet, and so-not-like-JMC today was teeming with energy. The fuchchas looked apprehensive, inquisitive and excited, and i looked back at my very first day in this very campus. I had still not resigned to the fact that i am fated to remain in this 'all girls' college for the next three years. Coming from a school where i had only (mostly) male friends, it was disconcerting to the eyes to see only female and feminine figures around. I felt irritated to the core when after searching frantically for a 'girls' washroom, it dawned on me that in this campus, there are ONLY girls' washrooms. It felt creepy, and it took time to adjust, and today, the situation is such, that the thought of not being a student of this college exactly one year from this date wreaks havoc with my system each time i set foot in the college.

Me and my emotional attachments are deplorable- i know. However, i cant help it. JMC being the cleanest, greenest and the bestest campus in the whole of Delhi University, it is so easy to fall in love with..umm... the lawns, the canteen, the basement, the amphi, the audi, the library....and the whole college itself.

My friends have taunted me, and have requested me to abstain from any 'emotional atyachar', which they knew was going to be inflicted on them, while i  soliloquised about how a year down the line, we would no longer be permanent residents of this place. The fact is- this hits me really bad. So bad, that keeping my thoughts only to myself is not an option. And since my friends are the package-deal i got from this college, they have little option save listening to my melodramatic monologues.

I'll miss this place, but that will come later. A year later. As of now the thing that i know will no longer come back in my life is the thrill of coming to JMC for the 'first' day of the new academic session, soaking in the beauty of the amazing campus we have, and feeling proud for being a part of this very, very prestigious institution. I will miss coming to college, congratulating others for their grossly, flagitiously, overbearingly good results while mine, in accordance with the custom, were too modest even to be called modest. I will miss taking a college tour, passing new, fresh smiles to everyone. I will miss peeping inside the staffroom to catch a glimpse of all my favorite teachers. I will miss the yearly pledges- "I HAVE to do well this year"- and ruining them even before i could put my first 'strategy to do well' in effect.

But, most of all, what i will miss are the desperately longed for, cozy hugs of my friends, and the smile that instantly lights up my face when i see all of them after so long, and the comfort that my heart silently experiences when it realizes that yes, those people are still with you, around you. I will miss the rigmarole that subsequently ensues. I will miss the first, long hug that Kapoor gives me, the first amazingly captivating smile that Jagga gives me, and the first beautiful gaze that Sanchi's bewitching eyes cast on me.

Two years earlier, when i set foot here, i was not prepared to accept the fact that it is from this crowd i have to find friends who will help me survive for the next three years. Today the condition is such, that survival without these friends is very nearly unimaginable. My next year in college, i want to see pass as a montage of precious, priceless moments, that if i can't freeze into pictures, can at least be safely tucked away in some part of my mind. Will happen. Definitely. Me, my college, my teachers, my friends- we still have one year to revel in our attachments, and then......we'll at least promise to stay in touch.

As for me, it was in ninth standard (five years back), that i first heard this line-

"Hum toh dariya hain, humein apna hunar maloom hai.
Jis taraf bhi chal padenge, raasta ho jaayega"