Quicklets

What's gray
but black and white
seen with a blurred vision;
and what are black and white
but gray
seen with a blurred mind.

...

There are situations
where you can't
but believe
in god
and those
where you can't
but not believe.

...

Tears bring happiness
to a world
gone numb.

...

I have uncountable laughs
and uncountable weepings
in me.
What I don't have is
opportunities, to let them out.


1. Do you even need a blurred vision/mind? Aren't they the same?

2. Why is god spelt in lowercase letters even in situations where you believe?

On another note, why is 'vibhav' in lowercase letters while all names in your blogroll .. er ... follow the usual protocol.

3,4. Tears are nearly as wonderful as laughter. Never experienced numbness though .. sounds dangerous.

@divesh

Why does GOD have to begin with an uppercase letter? Does he really care?
And perhaps, both god n vibhav are too high above this world n its affairs to needing capital letters...

@vibhav

Ah numbness...you touched a raw nub never there..

They all ring so true for me, I feel like huggin you - seriously! And the God one is exceptionally clever

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Trying to connect...

We so often talk to ourselves. I'm trying to make a connection with some people tonight by trying to imagine what is it that they're saying to themselves.







We will open my umirella
and then rain will fall
and we will walk under my umirella
so we won't get wet
when we get 'ome
we will keep my umirella
and mommy will say come 'ave a bath
and we will bath
and we will say mommy my 'ot chokate
and we will have my 'ot chokate
and it is very good :)





Sigh...It's been a long time,
wish those days had never gone,
wish I could go back for just one day,
but I know I can't.
I must look forward
life goes on,
harsh, I know,
but that's the way it is,
I can make it good yet,
I should look forward,
God! why?
It was just one simple thing,
and I wouldn't be standing alone here today.
But it happened.
Anyway, life's still good. It's beautiful.
I still have my days and nights.




hmm...sittin' in the morning sun,
I'll be sittin' when the evening comes,
watching the ships roll in,
And I'll watch them roll away again..hmmm
What fascination I wonder
people have for the sea
I'd love a life on the land,
secure and firm,
I guess everyone wants something different
than what he already has.
But to think of it,
I couldn't leave the sea permanently,
I'd keep coming back.
I guess everyone wants something different
to fulfill fantasies,
home can't be changed.





Yeah baby, come on...
Oh man! stretching till the horizon
and this is all you can collect?
come on send me a bigger wave
Am I standing here getting my butt photographed
for this teeny-weeny sprinkling?
Send me all you got next time!





What's coming over me?
I've got to go
I always knew I will have to
I knew it from day one
what is this stuffy feeling
and I was happy about it
till yesterday night.
Is that it then?
Will I really never be here again
Can I really live elsewhere
God! what stupidity,
what's happening,
think ahead..think ahead
It's gone...I'm happy.





I'm your beach at sunset,
the sand the sky the water the setting-sun
beautiful
but dead.
In fact, I never was alive.
I've never known how
the little girl with the umbrella
sprinkles her hours with little expectations
every moment.
I've never had the evening clouds
bring me memories
like the man
and I never grappled with myself
to retain the present.
I've never sat idle with my feet hanging
like the boatman
never hummed songs
never had any epiphanies
in my free time.
I've never contested with the boy
though he seems to think I do
or maybe not
but seems to enjoys it
I've never known how
I've never left anywhere like the young man
nor arrived anywhere
never had pangs of nostalgia
or an overwhelming homecoming
anyone who speaks of me
or to me
has to imagine what it is
because I never speak
just like now.
you might be able to imagine my lifelessness
but I'll never imagine your life
because I don't know such a thing exists
and I can't know.
Yet if I were to know it for a while
I'd give up all I have
for one lifespan.


Different pictures, different emotions and yet all express the same thing -- 'the grass is greener on the other side'. And the winner is the kid, as always, the kid who doesn't know anything about this 'other side'.

Grrreat post. And great isn't too great a word for you :)

Beautiful post! Great going!! :)

Waise, I felt at two places it was you talking about how felt...
The"long night" and "the suitcase".

Sorry! How YOU felt...

Wow this is more beautiful than the last one!

[Divesh]
Yes, when I look at them again, it's always that we are looking for something, expecting something, wanting something...and it's good, it's life! :) I still say, great is too great a word! :D

[Realistic me...]
Hey..thanks!
Why did you feel so? Waise in a way, yes, it was I talking all along :)

[Akshay]
Thanks!

I mean I could relate it to your post "Goodbye IIT"...
:)

That's just you, nobody else.
Don't restrict them with the abundance of ur thoughts.

[Realistic me...]
Got it :)

[Phoenix]
I know I know! Can't a person write a few words without being bombarded with reality!! :P:)

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Trenches

My mind is ever under the siege of alien thoughts,
their raging bullets rush, their fiery missiles fly.
And terrified, I dig dark trenches, wherein,
my mummified beliefs ever protected lie.

Labels:


Tch tch

And how will your beliefs ever be tested then?

Freud elaborates on how people cope with stress. Your symptoms are closest to Regression or Denial :P

[Phoenix]
I am worried about the same thing.

[Vik]
!! Nahiii! Aisa mat kaho! If this analysis is based on this poem, then let it be known that the poem was meant to be self-critical, and so I went to those extremes in description! I am not proud of my mummified beliefs and I meant to state an unfortunate situation and you scared the hell out of me so I am having to declare this! :P And may I ask for your time to read through this post written long back. I more or less still err...believe in what I wrote there. Phew!! :P :)

"Serious thought amusingly put" is what I'd comment about that post. And now, seeing this poem in that light, all I can say is you need some beliefs, some fresh ones. Sometimes when we've nothing else, we can survive on them.

Btw.. bullets, missiles, pressure cooker, hot plates.. what else is in The Store?

:) Those were days when I got very excited while writing! It's somewhat embarrassing to read a post after some days, and the older it is the more the embarrassment! Not always though, sometimes it's just surprising... anyway...yes, we need something to believe all the time...I've been tweaking around a lot with my computer these days and I thank god we don't have so much control over our self as we have over computers. I mean...we would screw up our mind, settings, memories, necessary files, we'll delete stuff on impulse..don't know what all we'll do! But whatever I might believe, I can't get rid of beliefs or any necessary thing in my own self. Relief!! (Crazy thoughts!)

:) Wait and watch for more releases in the store!

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Hum Ek Doosre ke Padosi Thay

               ...because he/she may just be the boy/girl next door!



Prakriti was cooking potatoes when through the window she saw somebody fall. She went to look and in the dark she could make out a man lying prostrate on the ground before what looked like a child, and shouting "Jai Ho! Jai Ho!” It was only when the thing barked and ran away did she realize it was a dog. And only when the man got up and walked did she realize it was the neighbour Devakar. Staggering and still shouting "Jai ho! Jai ho!” he managed to reach the door of his house where he collapsed and was pulled inside. And now she smelled something burning and ran back to jet-black potatoes smoking furiously with the shouts of "Parkirtee! Aaloo! Parkirtee! Aaloo!" coming from one of the rooms. She yelled back - "Can nobody in the whole damned world pronounce my name properly!"


---Ten-tenennn---


Starring:

Gulab Janum,
Kamal Parinda,
Navel Nanda, and
Phool Sikudi

in

Hum Ek Doosre ke Padosi Thay
          ...because he/she may just be the boy/girl next door!


Camera: Vauyar Saila

Screenplay: Kanikarini Khwaba

Background Music: Dhunivar Taana

Art Director: Nazuk Kamarwala

Director: (ahem ahem) Vibhav Singh Chauhan, Draam-e-baaz.


----------

A dulhan had arrived in the neighbourhood and Prakriti had to go for the mu-dikhai as a result of which her brother Jograj was supposed to milk their buffalo today. "Please bhaiya be gentle with it and use my purple dupatta if you need to", she said to him. "Yeah yeah...don't worry" was the reply. When she left, Jograj walked to the buffalo-shed. He stood there for a while, then came back inside the house muttering. Then he ran back to the shed, his head and torso covered with his sister's purple dupatta. Once inside the shed he looked outside, of himself only the face visible, and making sure nobody had seen him, settled down to milk the buffalo. "Damn animal. Wouldn't respond to anyone but her. So here I am. Here's your own Parkirtee, O bhains-mata, in her own purple dupatta. Looking pretty and familiar, am I not? Now please, pour down your five litres for me", he said under his breath, not speaking loud, cautious should the animal see through the guise and refuse to be milked. It is traditional wisdom in the villages of India that an animal who'll allow only a regular to milk it can sometimes be fooled by a simple clothing disguise and Prakriti and Jograj used this method pretty often, causing in Jograj a permanent dread of impending embarrassment.

And it would seem the day for that embarrassment was today, but with intensity more severe than he could have imagined. He had milked about three good litres and could feel at least two more in the buffalo when he heard Devakar clearing his throat behind him. He had an impulse to run away, but froze, and waited. Devakar said after a while, in such a gentle voice Jograj would never have thought him capable of - "Parkirtee?" Jograj didn't reply, now thinking of how to get out of this situation with the least embarrassment. The result was that both of them were still for a while, because Devakar was now lost in his own memories, while the buffalo stood troubled by the two-litres left unmilked in her, after she had resigned the whole of her full-cream for yet another day.

Devakar was remembering that playful day of 15th August when he had seen Prakriti on her terrace, flying a kite. Her silver nose-ring had shone bright on her dark face tilted up towards the sky, looking like an early crescent moon casually hanging about the evening sky. The setting sun's rays had fell on it for a moment and reflected directly into his eyes, reaching his heart through them, and filling it with a longing for her as pungent as the glare. That day, he had realized for the first time that life could be as complete and smooth as a circle, and known at the same time that his life won't be so unless a part of that circle bound, and became inextricably linked to hers, just as her nose-ring was to her nose.

He had decided he would marry her and had already thought as his next thought about how odd it would be for his baaraat to travel only till the next house.

He returned to the present, and said to a sweating Jograj in a voice that had suddenly acquired an almost royal nature while retaining its gentleness - "Parkirtee, I have wanted to tell you something for a long, long time now. I believe the day has come, and I can no longer stay quiet. Even fate is on our side today, that I have found you alone here. And yet, I do not find it an appropriate situation to tell you a truth that has the potential to change both of our lives, not with you in the midst of milking a buffalo. But if you could kindly sneak out of your house tonight, and meet me behind the old temple, I should be, and I have reason to believe, you yourself would be extremely grateful later in life. You can be sure of the purity of my intentions since I have called you to meet me right behind God's house, instead of Thakur Jor Pratap's, the old haveli, which was also one of the possible options."

Jograj had never been more confused about the state of his mind, as he was now after Devakar left. He told himself he ought to be relieved to not have been discovered, and yet it was good that it was he and not his sister who was present here today. He also ought to be outraged, he thought, for somebody to have made such a proposition to his sister! But he could not have refused the purity argument given by Devakar in the end, which, admittedly Jograj had also once used with Sitara of Noorpur last year. This argument was also an old tradition passed on from one male generation to another and was sincerely believed in, and Jograj couldn't refuse that he did feel a certain bonhomie towards Devakar for having understood it better than had all the girls across generations who ever heard it. And then (for it couldn't be about anything else), marriage to Devakar wouldn't be such a bad thing for his sister, who was already seventeen. What a lucky girl, he thought, just getting out of school, and comes a groom to her home, ready to take her away. He laughed at his initial confusion, and now waited for his sister to return. He was eager to break the happiest news of her life to her.

...


"But they are good people Parkirtee, you'll be very happy in that family", a somewhat surprised Jograj said to his sister when she was appalled at the idea of marrying Devakar.
"They are big carpenters, it is heard that their grandfathers made furniture for English collectors", he pressed on.
"Well that's nothing to be proud of", she replied.
"Well what do you know of class. What does it matter if he prefers a drink in the evening?"
"He is a drunkard. And a bloody dog-worshipper if you don't know."
"A dog-worshipper?"
"Yes I've seen him many times hailing a street-dog at night. Jai-Ho! Jai-Ho!"
"It isn't decent of you to talk like that for your future husband. Talk to me next when you get back your mind."
"Future husband!"
"Yes, he is."
"No! he isn't!"

Jograj didn't say anything more to his sister but narrated the whole incident to their mother when she returned from a distant-cousin visit the next day.

...


"But Ma, I'm still in school."

"Yes, and much good it's doing you, every passing year it's making you less and less suitable a match."

"Ma! You know, our principal is ready to pay my whole fees if I go to college in the city. He says I am more intelligent than even the boys."

"Oh-ho! Smart you are indeed. Smart you are. And you'll stay smart and unmarried. So it's your principal who's been filling your head with all the rubbish in the world."

"But Ma, this is exactly what Papa would've wanted. He would have been very happy if he'd heard I could get a scholarship."

The mother didn't seem softened by the reference to the deceased father, but was certainly quietened for a while. And then -

"Beta, your father is in a different world now. And he wasn't much in this one ever. He always had ideas from I don't know where. Sending you to school was his idea, and see what it has made of you. You don't know, but I've been trying to get a good match for about two years now. And the mention of your being in school in such an obscenely high class always breaks it. I never asked you to leave only because of your father's wishes. But if that means I'm going to have to give up a groom who has come walking right to our door, I'm taking it no more."

"But Ma, I could get somebody educated, like Papa. There are enough well-educated men in this world."

The mother sighed and after the quiet of a few minutes -

"To tell you the truth, your father wasn't much of a husband."

"Ma! For you to be saying this after he's in heaven!"

"What else can I say? At the fields working among the women I had no stories of his manliness to tell them. He never beat anybody, was always gentle everywhere, and he didn't beat even me! And what all I did to invite him! I hadn't even one story to tell them."

"But Ma, he was a different kind of a person. Think of the things he did, the things he gave us."

"What did he give us? What did he give you? A name from I don't know what old language that nobody understands? And if he were alive he would have brought you up to be just as impossible and nobody would have understood anything about you. Already I can't understand your interest in college. Haven't your read enough books already? And to think of you talking about your own marriage! And arguing about it! Aren't you ashamed to even think of it? When I first heard of my marriage I couldn't speak for days I was so embarrassed.

Beta, try to understand, what a girl needs is a husband. And you're getting one in your neighborhood. Think of all the savings! It's not easy for me to arrange everything on my own. A groom in neighborhood is just what your mother needs. Think of it, after college, you still have to marry. Why lose so many years? And who will marry you then? Once a girl crosses twenty, she as good as an old maid. I've lived my life practically without a husband, whether he was dead or alive, and I know how it feels. Is it only your father that's important to you? Doesn't your mother think of your good. I am telling you all this with a woman's experience. Your father wanted to make you a boy. He didn't understand the way a woman has to be. Do you understand?"

"Ma, but not Devakar at least! He's not what I would...and then he's a drunkard!"

"Now it's time you stopped calling him by name. And these little things are there in every man. Where will you find a perfect man? At least the habit is manly. Once you get married to him, you can change him. He's not a stone like your father I can tell you."

"Ma, he goes mad when he's drunk, I've seen him worship a dog!"

"Now I'll not have anything more from you, be glad I've tried to make you understand, girls with proper fathers never get to say a word!"

...


"Parkirtee..."

Prakriti was stopped one afternoon as someone called her name while she was returning from school.

"Parkirtee, you never came to meet me that night, perhaps you weren't convinced by my purity argument, but what you did was right for a girl, and I find myself even more in love with you. I only want to tell you that I have never dreamed of being with any girl but you and I love you from the bottom of my heart. When you become my wife, you'll be the happiest woman in the whole wide world. I'll see you when our families meet tomorrow, and after that when I come to your home with my baaraat to make you forever, forever mine."

Nobody had even spoken anything like that to Prakriti. With everything that everyone had been saying all these days, she had relented a little even in her mind and now hearing such romantic things from Devakar she thought that it might after all be only good for her, something her father, being a man, had not perhaps understood.

...


"Arre beta, have some more laddoo, don't be shy, consider this your own home now", Prakriti's mother said to Devakar in an excessively sweet voice when his family visited them the next afternoon. Prakriti found it absurd to dress up so gaudily when they had already seen her a thousand times; and when she came to know that they had come to her house from the next house in Devakar's city-uncle's car, she had such a nauseating feeling that she wanted to put this all off for another day. But she held herself. Now decked up, she entered the room holding a tray with cups of tea, walking slow with her head down as she had been instructed by her mother, never matching anyone's eye. She just wanted all these ceremonies to be over, and get to the days of marital bliss that everyone had promised lay ahead for her, and which she now had herself started looking forward to.

But one doubt remained in her mind, and she asked her mother to stealthily inquire somebody if there was more to the dog-worship than drunkenness. Now that she had made up her mind to marry Devakar, the only worry she had was if the family was involved with some sort of black-magic. Just as she was saying this to her mother, Devakar's father overheard it. He too had seen Devakar worship a dog many a time when drunk. The black-magic thing, he knew was perhaps the only thing that could break this marriage. For a moment he thought he should just attribute it to Devakar's drunkenness, but finding it inappropriate for the ocassion, he raced his mind around far in space and time and said -

"Arre beta...hahaha! You totally misunderstood it..hohooho...I'll tell you. We are a family of carpenters as you know, and big carpenters, our grandfathers made furniture for English collectors and Zamindars alike. Now have you ever seen a carpenter work? In olden days without machines, it was very difficult to cut and tear a piece of wood. One day as my great-great grandfather was walking around just outside the village, he saw a dog digging the ground. He stood looking and after a while the dog brought out a bone from inside the hole. When it started tearing at the bone, my grandfather was stuck by a great idea. He sat down where he was, mimicking the pose of the dog, and picked up a log of wood that lay nearby and worked on it in the exact way the dog's limbs worked on the bone, and learned that it became very convenient to tear wood this way. This gave us a tremendous competitive advantage and made us the best carpenters in the village. Now of course it's traditional knowledge but since then, Parkirtee beta, we have been worshipping dogs in our family. And a teacher is never small or big. Anyone who teaches you anything is worshippable across generations. What you have seen is Devakar's devotion to tradition."

Prakriti and everyone present in the room felt extreme satisfaction on hearing this account and Devakar, on realizing that this notion had been present in his blood so much that without his knowledge he had been worshipping dogs all along, felt such a joy come over him that he wanted to marry Prakriti right there and then.

...


Prakriti is sitting on her wedding bed waiting for Devakar with an unrest she has never felt before. Although somewhere inside she knows what's best for her now is a long, long sleep, but that would be very inappropriate if anybody ever heard of it, and then perhaps this is the greatest night of her life. Devakar enters, gently closes the door, walks over, sits on the bed and says - "Parkirtee, from today we are each other's forever." And as they draw closer to each other, a shrubbery of red flowers covers them.


THE END

A Bollywood101 (Creative) Studios Production.


Labels:


wah ustaad wah!!

Do share the movie when/if it is made :D

lol@ "that they had come to her house from the next house in Devakar's city-uncle's car"

also "---Ten-tenennn---" .. awesome

lol@'purity argument' too

Mast hai..! I'll write a movie review tomorrow..

:D Romantic comedy ahem...kya character hai sare...but movie kam story zyada likhi hai...sound effect to hone chahiye....ten-tenenn types.

Waise, for one it's a vibhav-the person kinda post, not a vibhav-the blogger.

Hilarious names, dude, HATS OFF! What an idea, too! First comic Bolly movie which had a serious message for Bollywood (or is it just me?)

(Just realized ki review vagairah to bada fighter kaam hai.. so here's my usual comment)

The 'original' names of the four actors are very creative. And Phool Sikudi tops them all.

Plot line is awesome. It is a real stroke of genius to have set a hilarious comedy in dark ages and knit a social message with it, and compromising on neither of these. (Oh, this one is a review-like sentence. :P)

[Divesh]
haha...Thanks! Ok, I'll share the movie if I get around to making it someday! Where will I get these heroes and heroines! And the dear buffalo!

[Vik]
Agree...review fighter kaam hai...term paper types isn't it? :P

And thanks! Well... I guess the dark ages are here and now...and not limited to the villages. But I enjoyed it. There is nothing like comedy to let off a little steam!

[Phoenix]
:) Yes...I wanted to include some sound effects but couldn't do it properly. It went the way of a story. Guess I should have included some songs in between. Chalo...next time when I write one like this!

And if it's more like a vibhav-the person kinda post, then it's surprising isn't it? because it's fiction! Waise...I wonder what is the difference between vibhav-the person and vibhav-the blogger kinda posts?

[Akshay]
Thanks! Don't know if it has a message for bollywood, but I guess you can take away any message that might come from it! I won't mind! :)

Speaking of names, I loved Nazuk Kamarwala..
vibhav-the person posts are different because of their different energy/tone..mm...cosmic frequency let's say. It doesnt matter f it's fictional...most of the imagery in all ur poetry also doesn't really 'happen'.
Anyway, main difference nahi samjha sakti...and in fact aap contest bhi kar sakte ho on the grounds that i know vibhav the blogger, a bit, but what claims do i have on vibhav the person...


[vik]
Hum dark ages mein hi to rehte hain...abhi roshni aane mein waqt lagega..

Ok...hmm...understandable. It's something like split personality at work on some level, they differ in their tones...frequencies. One happy fact is that vibhav the blogger and vibhav the person are the same human being please! :D

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Waking in a dream

I wake up startled and dry-mouthed,
feel around for a bottle of water,
and am putting it to my mouth,
when I wake up again,

sit up and once more reach for the bottle,
and just as I feel it in my hands,
I wake up yet again,
startled, and dry-mouthed.

I sit coughing a few seconds,
having water, coming back, wondering
Was I stuck in a dream loop,
dreaming within a dream,
within a dream?
or am I imagining it?

Or did I imagine in a dream,
that I had another dream?

Labels:


I dreamt within a dream once,
That if I ran towards the edge of a cliff,
And attained a certain momentum
I could fly..

Then I woke up within the dream,
And ran,
And attained that momentum,
And God, I could fly!

Then I woke up,
and walked out of the room, and for hours,
Kept pondering over the question
-"Should(n't) I try (again)?"

Happens with me often, when I need to do something once I wake up, and am thinking about it as I sleep, very often I wake up and do it (or screw it) in my dream before I wake up again and do it(or screw it). Especially when it's a small nap, or when I hate waking up. Also something to do with my habit of lying down thinking abt the stepwise algo of wat all I need to do before crashing back to bed so as to delay getting up n also finish task in min. possible time. Lazy me! :P

[Vik]
Hey...thanks for the twin poem! somewhat similar..but I was just drinking water, and you're flying off cliffs! The last stanza makes them a little different though..nice thought.

[Phoenix]
Thanks for the idea...I'll also try keep lying in bed and think about the stepwise algo...good way to put off getting up without feeling guilty about it!

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I saw sadness on her face

I saw sadness on her face
a shadow the dark could not hide,
and the sunlight that her lips and teeth feigned,
too could not pierce her cloudy eyes.

Her body seemed tucked safe in space,
but her eyes looked far away.
It seemed she could disappear,
as if she were painted on air,
or were a time traveler.

I've known she speaks to the night,
with words gentle as water drops,
which seethe as violently,
when they fall on the heated sphere of silence,
enveloping and insulating her,
from love.

And in my own nights,
I am drawn into her eyes,
where floating I lie,
fearing, if they're sad because she's beautiful,
wondering, if she's beautiful because they're sad.

Labels:


Superb. I haven't found such flow in a poem for a long time.. it sounds like a single long yet simple sentence!

(More I'll write later. gotta go..)

Agree with vik, it's one long simple beautiful sentence,n it says a lot :)
Float on in the eye, until you drown.

[Vik]
Thanks! For myself, after quite some time, writing a poem didn't leave me unsatisfied.

(waiting for the "more"! :P)

[Phoenix]
Thanks, and I'm happy it says something!

Drown! Guess I will :)

She must be a beautiful woman. Your poetry makes her even more. :)

Yes she is :)

Beautiful! Do you know a woman like that??

Btw, don't you reply to the mails you get?

Thanks! I think I know!

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Goodbye IITD

I want to write about my four years in college, just gone behind; only, I haven't yet been able to write about my years of schooling. These are difficult experiences to write about for a single person, they form collective memories, the kind you will talk about if a group of friends meets after many years. By myself, it is too overwhelming to write about the whole time. But since time never stops, and some things will fade, I will write down whatever I can.

Four years, eight semesters is a deceptive time scale. When I look back at it, I don't see time neatly divided into days, weeks, semesters or years. It appears instead that I am looking through a distorting lens, which makes time appear to have followed a large number of different scales. Some days appear distant and blurred while some are magically brought near into clear vision, regardless of their chronological order. It makes me feel at times that the whole period has been too short, and at times that it's been too long. Time has passed too slow on the scale of academics, and I have to make an effort to recall my first-year courses and teachers. I know I used to be more serious about them, but I've forgotten why or how. Then there is a time-scale of friendship, on which time has passed fast. I feel I haven't known my friends enough to say goodbye already. I want more time with them, but can't get it. And then there is an opposing desire to move on.

Some inactive days, weeks are totally wiped out, but of some I have retained a video memory. In a brief break during the first MEL120 workshop, we came out and stood in front of the workshop's entrance. From there, the roof of Convo-hall soaring up towards the sky against MS standing huge behind it is a breathtaking sight when you see it for the first time. Later on unfortunately, the knowledge of the machinery operating inside the buildings made it less pleasing to look at. The "relationship" hasn't been without ample hatred and resentment at times. But whether it was good or bad, whether you loved it or hated it, when you spend four years of your life at some place, specially the time when you are 17, 18, 19, 20 and 21, in a way, the place becomes "yours" and it is difficult to ignore it, or to have unmixed feelings for it.

People have been the best part of the experience. After knowing them for a while, it was surprising how similar we are, and again how different each one of us is. Most people outside IIT can't help stereotyping us, but I have found that IITians are at their best and most interesting when they fail those stereotypes than when they are able to successfully follow them. I've also found that it's not IITians who find it difficult to mingle outside, as the common belief is, but it's mostly the outsiders who find it difficult to mingle with us. It's too difficult mostly to talk to an outsider if he knows you're an IITian, since it'll be brought up in every bit of the conversation. Most people will either hail IITians or damn them, they won't treat us as normal. Anyway, it makes us more close-knit. We have our own lingo, our own intra-stereotyping, our own stories, our own set of moral-codes to pass on and our own survival fundas. We therefore have all the elements of a mini-culture, and being a part of that culture turns out to be more important than being a part of the institute. The culture includes some controversial elements too - poltu, inertia, fraud, and on the side of the administration, the primitive attendance superstition, leading to one of the biggest problems called attendance-fight. It has in fact messed things up in the last few days for many of us; it was arbitrary in most cases and that made it worse.

But thankfully, after a long disappointment with teachers, I did find one I'll miss. I took a course by Rukmini Bhaya Nair in the 7th semester, initially, admittedly, due to slot-convenience. But the next semester, I barely read the name of her course before registering for it. Her classes are full of discussion, insights, ideas, and fun. She hardly keeps an attendance record and yet I don't remember missing any of her classes this semester. 100% attendance - unFbelievable. It's surprising how a good teacher by herself makes one a good student. We all probably have our examples of teachers we admire and wish for all teachers to be that kind, of teachers who allow us to stand on their shoulders and see far depending on our own height, as opposed to the ones who stand instead on our shoulders with all their academic bulk and wonder why we can't see what they can see so easily. I once went with a friend to show her a draft of a presentation, feeling a little guilty to take her time for our minor concerns and expecting to take just about fifteen minutes. But she herself gave us one hour, tried to understand all points of our presentation, pulled out books from her shelf and read out related portions, opened her own presentations on her computer and copied related slides for us. Seeing the way she treated our work, by the end I felt that it was important as a "work" we were doing and not just as a course requirement to be met. It was quite a refreshing thing for me to have felt this way for my work, I never felt like this even for my BTP which I was involved with for a whole year. She elegantly negates the notion that good researchers aren't good teachers.

Among places, there's Sip 'n' Byte, Nescafe, Holistic, CSC, Library, places where an attaché inevitably finds himself spending a lot of time. I spent enough time in hostels to get to know about that life and to wish I were a hosteler too, but not quite enough to actually know that life inside out. And I feel a little bad about that. There are many other moments, I don't know what I can write about them, sometimes it was just a shared mood which made us celebrate nothing in particular, sometimes it was a running joke that climaxed, sometimes a treat for something happy that found its way into our lives after all!

Now it appears that all of a sudden I am by myself, and there is a need to think about my own life. There used to be a few minutes daily when I was rushing for the morning class, already late, and the road leading to MS looked good with trees on both sides and occasional flowers, the kind of surrounding you'd love to take a slow walk in. But I always had to rush and it made me think every day about the important question - whether to stop and rest in the lovely, dark and deep woods, or to go the miles for the promises I need to keep. This question and others like this will come up at every stage in life, and I don't know the answers yet but I think they lie embedded somewhere in the experiences I've had and the changes I've undergone in the last four years of my life.

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Good luck for future!! :)

Interesting post!

Somehow those rushed moments in the morning are so unforgettable, I had many a startling thoughts n random conversations running to class, and I could never be on time for the first class of the day :P Still have at least one sem of doing that, with watever little classes are left, and the only good thing abt a fifth yr is u get time to slow down n do the little things four yrs were so rushed n inadequate for, so that eventually I can take out a full bag.

What next?

Wonderful post. Your posts stay a safe distance away both from getting excessively nostalgic, and excessively indifferent, about the past. That is good for anyone who can manage that.

IIT has been a strange mix of rush and vellapanti for me. During one Rush Hour from insti to hostel to insti..(n times), I conceptualised this. (Now that was really vellapanti in rushed moments.)

You say most people either hail IITians or damn them, but I don't think they do it this distinctively. They are confused. Especially, those who damn us are real confused. They'd call us nerds and snobs in one breath.

Anyway, you've made some really interesting observations and I'll take it up as a tag 6 months later..

[Realistic me...]
Thank you! :)

[Phoenix]
Yes, I know...aapko zor ka jhatka dheere se lagega! :P I mean you'll get out of college in 2 steps and now after 1 step you can slow down for a wholesome finishing touch! Your time starts now!

[Akshay]
Job :( IIT gone, Delhi gone, Next stop is Bangalore.

[Vik]
Safe distance..hmm...hadn't realized that!

I mostly got ideas while returning home, morning hours were too rushed and full of attendance concerns!

And yes, I guess you're right, they're confused, like we were before we came here and saw things for ourselves!

I'll wait for your observations!

Another institure-another set of people-all together different experiences yet all of it sounds just the same!
Haven't done much since I've left IIT coz the flashes of those 8 semesters or 4 years are irregularly continuous and keep taking me back and forth in time!
all d best for life here on!

"..of teachers who allow us to stand on their shoulders and see far depending on our own height, as opposed to the ones who stand instead on our shoulders with all their academic bulk and wonder why we can't see what they can see so easily."

exquisitely written, couldnt have been written better !

[Vartika]
I guess the same irregularly continuous flashes would come to me too...thanks..and all the best to you too!

[Pooja]
Thanks...learned this fact after so many years of dealing with or rather being-dealt-with by teachers!

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The cool 28-questions tag

Tagged by Tapasya

1. Last movie you saw in a theater?
Long back...It was either Taare Zameen Par or Welcome.

2. What book are you reading?
Light in August - about to be done.

3. Favorite board game?
Snakes and Ladders!

4. Favorite magazine?
Who needs them when we got the internet? Not me.

5. Favorite smell?
Clinic Plus I guess, I am not sure...never asked.

6. Favorite sound?
Long time since I heard it.

7. Worst feeling in the world?
Guilt.

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
WTF!

9. Favorite fast food place?
Does it matter where the junk comes from?

10. Future child’s name?
Can't say I haven't thought of them. Boy - Satye, girl - Rhythm.

11. Finish this statement. “If I had lot of money I’d...?”
be proof that it can't buy certain things.

12. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
Mr. Darcy, this is most singularly outrageous of you to be inquiring about my sleeping company. You certainly are no gentleman, sir.

13. Storms - cool or scary?
Scary so cool.

14. Favorite drink?
Does it matter what else is dissolved in it?

15. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would...”?
lose the soul of wit.

16. Do you eat the stems on broccoli?
Yes, but I don't like them much.

17. If you could dye your hair any color, what would be your choice?
Silver, say?

18. Name all the different cities/towns you’ve lived in?
New Delhi (21 years), Noida (~3 months cumulatively approx.), Perth(2 months)

19. Favorite sports to watch?
A good AOE game.

20. One nice thing about the person who sent this to you?
Writes good emotional poems.

21. What’s under your bed?
None can tell.

22. Would you like to be born as yourself again?
I can tell you this only when I am dying.

23. Morning person, or night owl?
Flexible.

24. Over easy, or sunny side up?
Is this metaphorical? How can you have a choice in every damned little thing?

25. Favorite place to relax?
Sea-side. Rare access, unfortunately.

26. Favorite pie?
The English they left away, the Englishness they left here, eh? I'll convert it into a "favorite mithai" question.
It is Gulab-Jamun.

27. Favorite ice cream flavor?
These things you really shouldn't ask about unless you can be ready with them once I answer.

28. Of all the people you tagged this to, who’s most likely to respond first?
I am weak in "Probability".


I tag -

Do it if you like it, when you're free, when you're in the mood!

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Yeah! You Were really in the mood! Mast likha hai yar!

Yes I was in the mood! Thanks!

Longgggg list, but you really seemed to have enjoyed it. :)
You dont like the smell of rain,of earth, of mornings, of spring....even of AXE :P...clinic plus?? :P:P

Yup I enjoyed it!
Clinic plus yes!! :P:P I have my reasons.

:)
nice tag! i njoyed readin it...
n yeah! nice blog too...

Sach?
Thanks! :)

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Aaj phir...

Old wounds don't heal,
they just become numb,
and accumulate with age.
They sting if you're careless
and brush them against things while moving around,
or when casual raindrops wet them,
when in the heat the sweat damps them,
when dusty winds soil them,
or on some mornings after wild dreams,
or when a new wound hits the same place,
or a place close.
Pain starts like an echo,
resonates for a while,
then fades away,
like a five-minute sad song.
It is soothing while it lasts.

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Quite exhaustive thesis, I must say. But you missed the element of a recurrence that, they say, is fated. As in, "jahaan lagi hoti hai wahiin dobaara lagne ki possibility bahut high hoti hai. Bach ke rehna." :)

(You may not have heard this view. My grandma used to say something like that about physical injuries. And I think it's applicable to a variety of wounds.)

I also had a typical one word comment ready: "Masochistic"!

That's quite true I think, the recurrence thing...old habits die hard and we do the same things and get hurt in the same place again and again! Happens.

Well, ab soothing bhi nahi keh sakta kya!! Not really masochistic I guess..

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Defeating Time

I woke up on the floor
and saw the world come to life
slow
windows first of all, lit from behind - lovely.
Nobody noticed, I stood up.

I woke up on the floor again,
And again the world came to life, a little shifted,
this time starting with a bulb,
windows a little distant.
I had cut a little time from life
and crushed it.

It had started with the world turning off,
slow
uncontrollable, violent sleep.
I have an idea how death comes.

It will cut off some of my time,
but at times I love to defeat time.

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Liked it!
:)

Congratulations! On your victory.

I'm wondering over the quite opposing connotations the phrase 'defeating time(s)' has..

[Realistic me...]
Good!! :)

[Divesh]
Thanks! Don't know how much of a victory is that though...

[Vik]
In any case, time is our own thing, which goes frequently beyond us.

Oh, you aren't sure either??.. and I thought I could take your help next time I have to fight against Time.

Btw, why do you say Death 'cuts off' some of 'your' time .. doesn't it come when your time is over?

No, I meant defeating time cuts off some of my time, but still I do it and love it!

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