The new room partner

It all begun with Gaurav washing some Chana in the bathroom basin before soaking them overnight in water. His work was neat, quite neat this time. The next time I visited the bathroom I found just seventeen of them in the sink. The last time he was washing apples, he left three of them in the sink, unofficially redefining what carelessness is all about. Seventeen Chana seeds take much lesser a space than three apples and on a volumetric basis, Gaurav later calculated that he was seven percent more efficient than the previous time. I collected the seeds from the basin and a couple of them were left behind. The next day, we three rushed to college and later in the evening, it came to our notice that one of the seed, even without any knowledge whatsoever made Darwin and Hitler proud of the employment of theory of survival of the fittest. It sprouted and we could see a small white root coming out of it, telling us that our new room partner had arrived. This was the second time in my engineering span that our room had served as a temporary maternity center. The previous time it was during my first year during Diwali vacation, when a pigeon made a nest and gave birth to a baby. We treated the pigeon as our room partner, giving her the leftover to eat along with two bowls of water a day (Honest confession: we had mixed vodka in the bowl once). A month later, the pigeon ditched us, when her child had become able enough to fly. The family left our room and it was three of us again.

However, the new room partner, with its uncertain stay span, had arrived this time. Gaurav, being its unintentional father bought cotton, soaked the cotton in water (minus vodka) and carefully placed the seed on it. Two days later, the white root had changed to green. Gaurav proudly declared his illegitimate child as a 'plant'. A couple of days later we changed the cotton as the previous one started turning brown. The plant was grew good day by day and Gaurav seemed happy about it. I saw the expression on his face and wondered if my dad was proud in the same way when he saw me walking for the first time or not. Our room which hitherto lacked purpose had an atmosphere where the new room partner had all the attention. Things were going good till Friday happened. Gaurav, Ankit and I reached the station directly from college to catch our respective trains and reach our respective cities. We all forgot about our new room partner until Saturday afternoon when Gaurav called me and asked "Kutte, Gaandu ko kaha rakha tha tune?" (FYI the Chana plant was named Gaandu). "I think I placed on in the wash basin" I said. We both assumed that the water on the cotton won't dry out before Sunday and that Gaandu will be safe and sound.

However, destiny had something else awaiting. The three of us packed our bags on Sunday morning to leave for Surat when we got calls from our classmates informing us that a flood is being anticipated and warning us to not board the train to Surat. We were all worried for our classmates, for the beer bottles we had stored in the basement and for Gaandu of course. The next one week was not good for the city. The drainage water flowed backwards to the houses, rain and flood water made it impossible to go out and prices of things sky rocketed. Meanwhile, it was a fun time for three of us, we watched bond movies at ease, listened to songs and the part where our concern for our classmates, beer and Gaandu was present in our mind stared to shrink. Time flied that week and Surat was out of danger by next Sunday. The three of us boarded up trains scheduled for evening and reached the room by night. Gaurav reached first, at about 8. Ankit and I reached the room by 8:30. Gaurav opened the door with a face resembling close to that of Ishant Sharma when he, out of a habit concedes more than 10 runs in an over. We understood what that meant. Ankit and rushed to the bathroom and we found the cotton in which Gaandu was placed to be entirely dry. Gaandu had left us, with its body, which out of seven days of decaying turned brown. Maybe Gaandu was not fit enough to survive, maybe it wasn't any of our fault, maybe it was all a part of the bigger plan that Almighty had for us. However, it wasn't so easy. We were attached to Gaandu. We had lost a room partner. That night, Gaandu's absence could be felt. As we were supposed to be grown ups, we didn't cry, our hearts silently weeped and we went to sleep late that night. The worst part of attachment is that you never realize how attached you are till you have to part ways. However, our beer bottles which were stored in the basement were later found to be safe and that news somehow compensated for our sour mood. 

Thinking of Future

This is the third year of of my engineering course, namely electronics and communication engineering. Longer than the branch's name is the list of unemployed EC engineers who graduated from our university. Maybe some eighteen months later I would join them, adding to India's ever growing 'educated and unemployed' force. Yes the ones that can definitely tell you how unemployment tastes like with a tinge of humor and sarcasm added. Stuff like "Ghar pe khaane ko kuch nai hain" replaced by "Dude! Didn't have either VAT 69 or 69 in the last few days" are common signs of the crowd that I am talking about.  The thought gets scary as well as relaxing whenever it crosses my mind. Scary because most of my schoolmates would be out there in the corporate world, with beautiful girlfriends, ironed shirts, expensive trousers and moreover enough money to buy beer every weekend without the 'pocket money milne pe lauta dunga' debt, whereas I would still be there, in my shorts and t-shits, still recharging my internet with petty SIM card with 95 rupees me 1 GB schemes and then inserting it into a dongle, starting the internet and blogging these posts which don't even get an audience. On the other hand, that phase might let me explore the creative side of mine, making me go for art, colors, journalism, writing and everything that has been confined to a hobby or a mental masturbation scheme during my free time ever since God and the other early things conspired to trap this bastard's soul into an engineering student's body. 

Of Inquisitiveness And Concern

It's really hard to imagine engineering life without a proper dose of tea every now and then. The first rule of tea lovers cease to change, being no matter how unimportant a day might seem to be, it must begin with a cup of tea. I reached the nearest chai wallah that Sunday and on a disappointing note, I found it in a shut down condition. But my tea-deprived body made me walk a bit further on that same lane to a small rickety shop that had small sachets of pan masala hanging, a shelf containing cigarette packets and a kerosene fueled stove with a copper container placed on it containing boiling tea. The gentleman attending the rickety stall was much more older than my father. No matter what his actual age was, the conditions in which he was made to live conspired together to make him look older than seventy. I asked for a Gold Flake. He took a cigarette out of the packet and gave it to me. I noticed his fingers shaking while handing over the cigarette. I took a match stick and lighted the cigarette, exhaled the first puff and asked for a cup of tea.

(Photo credit: 40to40.com | http://www.4to40.com/photo_gallery/picture.asp?pid=102&photo=Tea_stall_on_footpath.jpg&keywords=Desi_Chai )

I asked him if I could assist him and pour the tea in a glass as an act of self-service. The looks on his face turned from that of surprise to anger. "No no! It is my shop, I don't need you help" he shouted at me. I wished to apologize but I prevented it just to not fuel any further conversation which appeared to be heated up at that moment. He handed me the glass of tea placed in a plate. I took the glass, the lighted up cigarette and and sat on an iron bench next to the stall. While smoking, I noticed his trembling hands, those hands that didn't really have even the slightest portion of flesh present in them, with the skin tracing the shape of his veins and bones. I looked at his torn white vest, the red towel that he placed on his shoulder and the old blue lungi that he was wearing. Puffs after puffs and sips after sips I wondered what could have happened in his life. It might have been, like in very common cases that his children grew up and parted off, leaving the old man on his own. Or it might be that he never had any children, and being trapped in the vicious cycle of poverty, he had to work at this age too just to earn a living. I wondered where he lives, if he could afford two square meals a day, how he managed living in the winters and other such stuffs. I had a thousand questions in my mind but the leave-me-on-my-own attitude on his face discouraged me to ask him anything. I finally completed the cigarette, the tea and walked away. I somehow realized that even I am just like the others, with a lot of questions in my mind but actually with a very little concern for the things that they face. I am an imperfect creature, with a flawed inner world and just like the other human beings, I look for flaws in the external world.  

Jobless

Nights actually begin after midnight. I still wonder why midnight is not called startnight yet. And midnight gets good if you're bound to use a road where traffic remains rampant all through the day! However, there is one major transition that takes place. Human beings, with their two wheeler and four wheeler vehicles and the pedestrians of course are replaced by a four-legged animal. These animals are the most over-hypersensitive animals I have ever met after human beings. Their ears remain erect all though the night to sense every fucking single activity that takes place though the night, be it an a pigeon having loose motions, walking tip-toed, looking for a place to shit, in the sense of urgency at midnight. The dogs would bark and scare the hell out of the pigeons just to ensure that everyone remains restless all through the night. Long before movies like Bhaag Milkha Bhaag were made, these dogs we authentic in promoting athleticism. Has your car ever passed though a road inhibited by dogs at midnight? You would have definitely witnessed their act of over-enthusiasm. No one, including dogs seem to understand why they chase the cars randomly every night, all through their life. I am yet to verify if Usain Bolt or for that matter any other athlete can match their speed, because the fact is Usain Bolt won't chase my car if he doesn't get money for it, dogs do. Every time I look at them, the guilt inside me of being highly jobless reduces a little bit. 

Tenu :*

Basically two types of friends exist. One, the sane ones who are too sane to fall into the category of friends and then second, mentally-the-sick-types who falsely convince you of the fact that they need care and then you get just too attached to leave those morons. She, for all reasons, falls into the second category. The worst part is, she never appreciates my efforts to be patient and suffer her. Pretense is her birth right and pointing fingers at me would continue to remain her favorite hobby. There are nights when I find myself awake at 2 am listening to her philosophies on the driving force of Universe and at other nights, I have to suffer her panda-like acts and then there are nights when she would act drunk, just to gain some extra attention, drama queen she is. Life gives me no other options other than listening to her crush stories, her two wheeler rides to the nearest river basin and her obsession with dosa. When I commit to myself that I would somehow bear her crappy talks, she gets even more irritating, accusing me of being a male-chauvinist-asshole and crossing the limits by saying Pink Floyd is shit! But then I just can't stop talking to her. She is the only one who perfectly knows when I need a kick on my ass and when I need a shoulder to lay my head on. She is the only one who can bear my crappy talks and lame jokes and download and listen to the songs that I Whatsapp her ( being well aware of the fact that she hates metal, it's good to take revenge by sending her songs of Def Leppard and Pink Floyd). She is that person who never hesitates to say "tera net chutiya hain" when the texts get time to deliver and "Tu tharki hain tujhe ek Girlfriend chahiye" when I spot her with her hot friends in her whatsapp DP and ask "Yaar wo tere baju waali blue me, uska naam kya hain?".  She has been my support when I was down and she has always been the first person I share my blog posts with. This one's for you. Yaar tenu tu ladki bohot irritating hain par tere bina nai chalta.

P.S: Nothing shall change. I shall continue to find you irritating!

Like a Complacent Engineer

Have you ever seen where the Devil resides? Or let me ask you a better question, have you ever diagnosed an engineering professor's mind? Yes now you know the answer and you already feel like I am exaggerating but no, the truth is, professors are a little more merciful than the guy who came up with the entire idea of killing people in gas chambers. No wonder the professors feel like over-burdening the helpless students with assignments that take about seven million years and some sixty five thousand more years to complete and they literally take a whip and order us to complete the assignments in a semester time. If you were convinced right in the first time that I wasn't exaggerating then I succeeded in manipulating you. Actually, we engineers are the most complacent beings to ever exist on Earth, and in fact even my turtle has approved me that he can't really match my level of complacency (I asked him Shelly, are you more complacent than me? He didn't give a fuck and I assumed his answer to be a no). I get about 8-10 assignments in one subject per subject which makes it about fifty assignments per semester or about ten assignments per month or like one assignments in three days. But, being a pro in procrastination, I, or as a matter of fact all other engineers, try delaying the writing process until we come down to a state when fifteen days are remaining and twenty five odd assignments are left to be written. Yet, the belief that we will save our ass from fire, or the dire need to save it gives us the fire from inside to complete this almost impossible task. Yes, our lives are just like that, with blogging and twitter to more common things like movie, music, love, dating and Whatapping taking place in the initial months followed by mid semesters, followed by normal routine and then the ultra pressure of semester work submission and semester-end exams. We enjoy life like hell and then curse ourselves for wasting time and then promise ourselves "Agle semester me pehle se regular ho jaunga". But being regular is something that cannot happen in these four years, engineering makes us repeat the mistakes seven times, and then they don't remain mistakes, they become a habit, a habit to screw up and accepting complacency as a way of living. 

A silly rhyme from the Insomniac

There's nothing to distract you,
your attention is mine,
the attention which I long for,
comes to me under the moonshine,
let the moments pass by,
making me feel more alive,
'cause it won't be the same,
once the dawn breaks,
once it's past five.

I feel high by your company,
you tend to know magic spells,
you tend to lighten the world up,
in which this silly bastard dwells,
So let let me dance holding your hand,
and know how it feels to be alive,
'cause it won't be the same,
once the dawn breaks,
once it's past five.

I am yet to discover,
the color of your brush,
'cause I can't just ask these things,
struck in the day's rush,
let the silly talks be done,
all through the night,
there's nothing to skive,
'cause it won't be the same,
once the dawn breaks,
once it's past five.

I can make thousand reasons,
and some more,
to let you not sleep,
and crave for the adore,
let us be ourselves,
let us feel a li'l more alive,
let us talk till the dawn breaks,
let us talk till it's past five.

(P.S: I scribbled the rhyme while sitting near the train door this morning, it basically lacks logic, vocabulary and of course poetry)

Little Moments

You deserve happiness every now and then. Be it staring deep into the eyes of your beloved and wishing the moment exists for a lifetime or holding her hand, intertwining those fingers and feeling the soft touch  of her palm against the palm of yours made brutally rough by the solder gun and the ends of single core connecting wires in your PCB circuit. Happiness can even be found in a cup of coffee at the end of writing the assignment at 2 am, the night before the deadline, reassuring yourself that you have saved your lazy ass from fire one more time, the coffee serves as a reward to your soul, trapped in an engineering student's body. Happiness may also be found in those late night walks with your room partner at perhaps 11 pm, with the sound of  horns of passing-by cars reducing every moment. True bliss surrounds you with the orange colored street light imitating the yellow one which emanates from the palm of lord Vishnu, you feel blessed by the urban God, by the urban streetlights. Happiness also remains hidden in the window seat of a bus going past the landmarks on a night which seems to completely accept you. The window opens up your mind, you feel like a temporary nomad with the road and night being your only companions who share the feeling of mutual love. Happiness is also present on the Sachin-Magdalla highway bridge on the Tapi river, the rays of setting sun, the cool wind striking against your face, and the mild movement of bridge, all when felt with eyes closed, transform the place into heaven. Even that "someone special", whom you have not dated yet, agreeing to remain awake for twenty more minutes just to chat with you has a euphoria hidden in it, which highly goes unnoticed, maybe because we're much more obsessed with achieving bigger things in life, buying a bungalow, earning in six figures, riding a car with a logo that raises your status and working endlessly to earn money in a way that leaves you with no time to enjoy life. Life is not about the bigger achievements, it is about these small moments of happiness because it is during these moments that life really takes place, if you miss these, you miss the opportunity to live another moment.  

The long wait

It's 8 am already but Rajesh is in no hurry to wake up today, neither does her mother feels the urge. Rajesh decided to skip school today, owing partially to the inevitable muscular pain resulting from last evening's hard work and partially due to the sorrow that is hidden in one corner of his heart. Yes, he cried last evening and he would remain on the verge of crying every now and then all through the day. His mother senses his bad mood and decides not to force him to study today. She wakes him up at 8:30 am just when the water in the German silver vessel begins to boil. Half sleepy, Rajesh brushes his teeth and takes a bath. Even his favorite breakfast, poha is not enough to make his mood any better.

Rajesh hurries to the society compound. The Pandal is still present, and so are Deepu, Parth, Dhruv and Shubham. The feeling of grief cuts across the society walls, all through Maharashtra and other parts of Western India. They share a helpless look, their Bappa is gone, their job is gone. A month earlier, they were assigned the task to collect chanda all through the society. They roamed here and there with the tiny yellow receipts, asking Rs 100 more this time telling "Aunty pyaaz bhi mehengi hain, mooriyon ke daam bhi badh gaye hain" . Rajesh never paid attention to the mathematics lessons his 'tuition aunty' used to teach him, but he doesn't make a single mistake while counting the notes before handling the entire bundle to Kamath uncle. After all, its not for a tuition test, it's for a greater reason, it's for his favorite God, it's for his Bappa.

Three weeks before, you could see Rajesh and his bunch of friends in that narrow lane on one corner of the city, bargaining furiously with the Idol-maker to reduce the cost of Ganpati they have selected to meet their budget. The considerate Idol maker is not money minded, its his eleventh meeting for the day and he has already made a loss of five thousand rupees in dealing with the children. However, the joy he gets to see on their face when the deal is made and knowing that he is partially responsible for it, is nevertheless priceless. He finally reaches a consensus with the children and he gets to see the joy once again. Once the gang has left, he looks up towards the heaven and smiles, firmly believing Bappa is looking at him and has already showered his blessings upon him. He returns to the task of finishing the idols and making them ready for the grand festival.

Over the series of next few days, you could see these chaps busy calling the flower supplier, the Pandal-maker, the priest and completing other such jobs. It's already been a week since they last attended the accounts class, dedicating their entire time to the preparation for the festival, ensuring no flaw remains. Financially, this doesn't get a very easy affair either. They have to plan and plan again to make ends meet. The price of every single commodity has gone up except the figure of the chanda or donation they get. Deepu has already visited the society's president's house for the fourth time this morning to get some extra funds. Their unbreakable faith on Bappa doesn't let them give up, no matter how many problems come up, they always manage to tide through uncertainties. The true sense of management can be learnt in these small pockets of the country where these young fellows, out of their devotion, always end up managing the finance, no matter how problematic the situation tends to become.

Even personally, it's not easy. Over the past few days, Rajesh has witnessed feeding all his pocket money as petrol to his black Scooty with white dots. His girl friend, Vaishali feels he is losing interest in her. Rajesh decides to deal with her later, feeling he has got much more important issues like ensuring that the lighting is done properly first. Last evening, Rajesh was scolded by his parents for not attending the classes. He has a just reason, not to attend the classes but his parents just don't seem to understand, he listens to all that his parents have got to lecture him with his head bowed. However, he keeps a track of the time, how can he miss the general meeting at 9 pm? After all the group is about to conclude all the preparation for the festival. Bappa's festival  is to begin tomorrow.

The grand day arrive and the Pandal's ready. Shubham is busy calling the priest, one hour before the destined 'muhurta'. The priest compains of the grand traffic that can be witnessed on the street of the city. Nevertheless, due to Bappa's grace, he reaches on time. The 'shubh muhurta' arrives and the carnival begins. Over the next five days, you can see Dhruv close to the dvd player and addressing the lighting issues, Shubham carrying the bowls of prashad every evening to the society homes and Rajesh sitting next to Bappa's idol and handing over the prashad to the people who have come to visit. They never realize when those five long days ended.

Last morning. Rajesh ensured that the couple of trucks they booked for the immersion ritual have arrived beforehand. Packets of pink colored powder of Gulaal are ready to paint the procession in pink. The drums are ready and so are the saffron headbands. The boys have made all the required arrangements for the ritual and the grand afternoon arrives. The boys lift the idol to the truck and the procession begins. You could spot Rajesh wearing the saffron headband, beating the drum and shouting slogans of 'Ganpati Bappa Morya'. Amid traffic, the procession somehow reaches the 'ghaat' where the ritual is destined to take place. The idol has been lifted off the truck and the immersion is about to begin. Rajesh touches Bappa's feet with moist eyes asking Ganpati to come back next year. Minutes later, the idol has been immersed in the stream of flowing water and the boys are all wet. The trucks begins to return to the society. However, the atmosphere in the truck is different from what it was a couple of hours earlier. You can sense the gloom on their pink colored faces replacing the cheerful faces. The Idol is missing too. The Sun is setting and Rajesh is busy staring the setting sun, avoiding any eye contact. The pink color Gulaal and the reddish shade of the sun combine to form a unique color on his face, a color that can only be found in India. A shade, among many others that uniquely define India. This color has a shade of immense devotion, a shade of the universal feeling of love, a shade that defines the relation between God and his devotee and a faith that keeps on telling the young boy that Bappa will come back, no matter if the wait is a year long.  

Farts

There are people who exist, there are people who are gifted with brain and intellect, there are people who recognize what freedom really is and then there are people who don't think much before farting. Perhaps, God's blessings were showered in an increasing order in that manner. And then there are two kinds of people in these universe. One, who think farting is a fundamental human right and then the other, who are intellectually challenged. Farting is something that sophisticated people try to despise, but then they too have to agree that farting is inevitable. And those who think farting is embarrassing are basically called morons by their stomach. I mean, if you think more about what others would think than what your stomach will go through, you have to learn an art, the art of living.