SIMPLER TIMES

We would lie on our backs and stare long at the night sky. The concrete floor outside the veranda would still be warm. The bamboo mat provided little cushioning. It was preferable to be outdoors when the power was out; candles attracted insects and made summers more irritable.

Sundays were longer. Everyone in the family gathered around the Television sharp at 7 for Rangoli. Breakfast had to wait. Afternoons were spent playing with friends from the colony. Occasionally we went to Naharlagun to see our relatives on my dad’s scooter. I always had a fight with my brother over who would stand at the front and who would sit squeezed between our parents. When my parents did not interfere I won. We hardly saw another soul on the road. Everyone preferred staying home on holidays. Sundays are shorter now. It begins late in the afternoon. We go out, to escape.

One day we got cable TV at home. My dad would stretch his legs on the sofa, put a snuggly pillow under his head, hold the remote in his hand, put a news channel on TV and go to sleep. His snoring didn’t help. We started having fun out of the situation. We each dared to change channels on the remote in his hand without waking him up. Giggles went around the room every time somebody attempted that. His pace of snoring was an indicator of his awareness. TV is old now; it only gets few seconds of our attention. We are too busy. Doing what, I wonder.

It was difficult then to convey news over long distance. Telephone lines stayed down most of the time. PCO was a thriving business. People were as interested in this acronym as they are today of ATMs. News always came through a messenger, but slowly. Excitement lasted longer and grieving was personal and genuine.

I consoled myself that this change was a bargain everyone made growing up. However, I have realized it is the times we are living in. It has nothing to do with age. These days, Innocence is a rarity. Personal Space is a rarity. Of course, as I long for simpler times at this moment, I see how tomorrow it won’t matter. I won’t have time for introspection. See, Time is a rarity.

If

With lots to say but none to ear,
about thoughts complex and feelings unclear,
and I see people rather talk to fools on chat,
about :) , :( , :D and all that,
I wish I were a writer,
if I could talk of solitary reaper.

Train – A mini India

5th July 2008

(An account of my first journey on Rajdhani)

Train is like a small town, though moving, isolated from the world outside. Probably that is why you find people so impatiently waiting for the morning papers to arrive.

My decision to travel by train couldn’t have been more right, as I doubted of it while boarding the train imagining the train sickness. The 27 hour journey from Delhi to Guwahati was too short for me to feel much of it. To mark this day – my first trip on Rajdhani could be described as gratifying. The food service was wonderful unlike other trains where the food adds to more travel sickness.

By the 17th hour of our journey, the sun had risen but very less of it could be seen, for the place we were travelling at that moment was mostly covered by grey clouds indicating the likeliness of a probable rain.

The waiter came in with the morning tea pushing me by my leg to wake me up. I woke up with energy praising the pleasant journey. I finished my tea and went for a wash. With a foam of soap in my mouth and a brush dangling by the side of it I hung by the train doors letting the morning breeze wash my face. All this time we were traveling in an area abound with vast paddy fields with small ponds at places as if dark patches in them. The greenery can’t be more appreciated but from this moving town.

The cranes flew swiftly till they let loose their wings to splash themselves into the pool along with their brother buffaloes who were already bathing there. As they finished their bath and flew off in search of breakfast you could see the freshness in their white clean feathers.

The wonderful thing about Rajdhani is that it is the king of all trains. As we were passing an area where only a single track ran, the Goods carrier train waited for its turn saluting the king while the king swept past in pride in high speed not giving any notice to the gesture shown to it. The crossing of trains to me seems more like a cat fight, crying and grouching at each other. All along the way we saw no hawkers or eunuchs who previously have always been successful to clap out money off my poor pockets.

While I finished my washing we neared the Khagaria Jung station. As frequently mentioned by my mom whenever the discussion on train journeys came, I could see village folks all lined in a sitting posture, unlike mentioned – without their heads covered, answering the call of Nature. As we neared the station and all the tracks seemed to merge at different points the closeness of the folks grew. It seems they can’t manage without the tracks in sight. I failed to unnoticed a particular guy very-very close to the tracks undisturbed by the stranger’s intrusion shamelessly displaying his huge oscillator. With a smile I looked the other direction and the beauty of the place got me involved again.

I can’t help but appreciate the slow change my place has been witnessing; if not for it the place would have been developed but without life.

The train crossed a bridge (without supports by the sides) and me still hanging by the door, I could see the river below me and for a while it scared me to imagine what letting my hands loose would mean. Somehow the absence of ground below me made me insecure, though jumping into the river from this moving train is a safer option than onto hard earth.

As the 50 feet bridge was covered by my boogie I got back to appreciating Nature again. The symbiotic relationship we are taught about, birds biting the insects off cattle’s back is a common event here. People who spend all their lives in cities are devoid of any such views. There is a guaranteed difference between theory and practical.

As I saw farmers he-hawing their cattle and women shifting the new grown seedlings into the flooded fields, I realized it was summer here, when it rains heavily, the natural period for cultivation. In Chennai it is difficult to make out the change in season.

As the train covered more distance and time elapsed to never come back, it was school time; girls in white shirts and navy blue skirts with torn books in their hand, boys running like crazy with a tinge of naughtiness in their bright faces; a guy cycling with two heavy LPG cylinders by the side of his carrier on a narrow mudded path formed because of constant usage; women with huge baskets on their heads walking in a rhythmic motion – most effective to relax their muscles and bones from the heavy toil. If somebody ever wished to have a glimpse of true India it could be on a train.

I was still hanging from the bars by the door when the song sequence from the movie Bunty aur Bubli flashed in my mind. I always wondered why Bollywood movies had so many songs; probably this is the reason, to remind you of it when you come by across a similar situation and you could start humming it. Audio cassettes, Culture and Money are other reasons. If my parents had been here with me they wouldn’t have allowed me to be hanging like this, enjoying my freedom, my tune with Nature. There is a benefit of both parents around and their absence.

My compartment partner joined me and within minutes we were in a conversation about the much sought out topics; Politics, education, life, religion and India and its bigger issues. Since we both had more or less the same opinion about them the conversation was fresh and healthy, which during some of my previous travels have turned even better with varied opinions when the topic was carried over to the whole compartments concern.

You could see bare-chested men with loose lungies covering rest of their body parts sitting ideally besides their paddy field waiting for their baby to grow, all jobless. A blue net encircling a region in the pond, young energetic semi-naked men with water upto their chests throwing water inside the netted area to scare away the fishes which foolishly as expected run in all directions to finally get themselves caught in the trap set exclusively for them. At places in the pond you could see bamboo sticks hanging out installed to tell the depth of the pond.

Though I very much appreciate the beauty of the place, still in its natural form, on the contrary I sometimes pity it for its underdevelopment. For once lets stop criticizing the Christian missionaries for trying to get the people converted, lets stop analyzing the other similar Hindu social workers (who most of the time point their fingers on their counterparts), lets not talk politics and look at the brighter side, that they are providing food and education to the poor. If an outsider takes an initiative to start a business (service) at my place people criticize him on grounds that money is his sole motive. Well who works for free? Here people don’t work and do not let others work, talking is all they do. India will definitely change for the better. So will Arunachal. Young people questioning about it itself is the first step. There is hope.

As I waited for my turn in the lavatory, people came and left and I was lost, mesmerized by the beauty of the world outside of the little town I was now in; a mini India, a country of diverse culture where you could find a Bengali, an Assamese, a Bihari, a Punjabi, an Arunachali. Train – A mini India.

Yet another teen story: Twenteen

This is to my 20th birthday. A bye bye to my teen age.

Of course it isn't easy to summarize one's life in  just 20 short paragraphs but here is an attempt.

7th Sept 1987:

4 am: An earth quake.

8am: I was born.

7th Sept is the 250th day of a year. The digits add up to 7, 2+5+0=7.

There are 115 days remaining. Which also adds up to 7, 1+1+5=7.

1987, 1+9+8+7=25; 25, 2+5=7.

Just saying that all this couldn't be coincidence.

1988:

Someone else must have been born, but who cares?

1989:

I had pneumonia and it is because of this I am today the way I am: slim.

1990:

I started school. I was just two and a half years.

My mom gave birth to a second child and the first thing I said to him -

"Would you like to play football with me?" - child prodigy.

1991:

I must have celebrated my 4th birthday.

1992:

My p***s got entangled with my zip for the first time.

1993:

Fell in love (for the first time).

1994:

Aishwarya won the miss world title.

1995:

Had been nicked GB (gaon bura) by a teacher; meaning the aged head of the village.

The reason: Had no teeth left for chewing because of excess love for candies.

1996:

Another first love;  a tuition partner. I knew I would fall in a thousand first loves but promised never to forget her (have never forgotten any of my first love till date).

Ran out of the hostel premises. The hostel warden had threatened that on the next Sunday he would call any one of us and ask to recite the multiple table till 20, failing so the person would be stripped in front of the whole hostel. He also gave a demonstration. I am sure the volunteer still remembers that horrible day, we all do. Because of me running out of the campus everyone was saved (hero).

1997:

Found 100 bucks lying on the road, happiest of times.

1998:

A change in school, was very elated for that reason, always doubted if I might have to do my whole schooling from the same school.

In the new school: managed to pass just 4 courses out of 7 (46%).

1999:

Scored 49/50 in computer science after being thrashed by the teacher for not being able to answer a question (one of the toughest won challenges till date). Here started the phase of academic excellence.

2000:

Another first love. Thought this was serious. Invaded (secretly) the school office for her number. Innumerable missed calls during vacations. Yet she never found out it was me (genius).

2001:

Got eliminated in the TT semi finals.

Read Who Moved My Cheese? It said never to delay on anything because time never waits. It had a great impact on me. Went on to propose my third first love. Called her on a wonderful Sunday morning. Asked how she was doing. She said fine. And I hung up feeling very satisfied.

2002:

Got eliminated in the TT semi finals (again).

Wrongly accused for stealing the mathematics paper.

2003:

Got eliminated in the TT semi finals (yet again).

Threatened to be thrown out of the school.

The reason: Supposedly watching adult movie on Saraswati puja day.

2004:

(Somehow) reached the TT finals.

Our hostel room thoroughly searched: 3 beer bottles and 1 empty whisky bottle discovered.

Threatened to be thrown out of the school (again).  Evaded the rustication.

2005:

Cleared JEE. Got ragged (assaulted). Had to strip partially. Endured a pen being driven in my ass. Another first love. Felt lost.

2006:

Innumerable calls from my faculty adviser.

Tried understanding myself. Felt more lost.

2007:

Celebrating my 20th birthday and still feeling young.

Any resolution?

None.

At my 20,

Still searching for first love.

No idea who I am and not interested to find out either.

Thank you all for being there in my life.