An Ode to my Flip Phone...

My dear flip phone,

You were my punishment, I think you know. When I had lost my sister’s ‘super cool’ phone in my second year, you were a no-songs no-camera punishment for me. I hated you so much, with the stupid ‘polyphonic’ ringtones and message tones. I was embarrassed by you. You were practically on silent mode for the past 3 years.

This Diwali I got my new phone and you are quickly forgotten. I still know you are lying somewhere in my bag, SIM changed, all quite. You won’t embarrass me again. Your screen is so broken down that I had to squint to see what I had typed on the sides. And don’t get me started on your buttons.

All these years when you embarrassed me...I would hide you from everyone. People used to laugh when they would see my ‘old, battered’ phone. I would cringe inwardly when they would play with you, flip on-flip off, but secretly, I hated you.

I won’t remember the days, during my non-existent social life in Delhi, when I would spend the entire nights on your radio. And it wasn’t just those nights. The commute, the college in Delhi, whenever I would want to save myself from embarrassing looks and stares, I would find a corner of the college and hide in the songs that you played.

I would also not remember ‘Bubble Smile’ that I played endlessly when trying to study, and my roommate would think I’m messaging. All the papers, the nights when I couldn’t sleep, my low-point-messaging to people... you probably know more secrets than most people in my life. But I won’t remember anymore.

I won’t remember the day I got so angry, I threw you across my bed, not realising that it’s a single bed... in the middle of the room. You didn’t get a chance, slid right off the bed, and broke apart. Didn’t even bother for about 30 minutes. After which I arranged you again and you were again happily beeping off one of you own ‘tunes’.

I got a new phone, the one that I paid for, with the ringtones that I love and all the features that I always dreamed of. It’s been three days, and you are easily forgotten. I don’t remember you anymore...

Everyday is exactly the same...

Since there is no easy (read ‘untwisted’) way to tell this story, I’ll try to make it as easy and non-boring as possible. So last Friday, Neha and I were ushered to the boss’s cabin. We were informed that we had to do research in a couple of villages. Cool, I thought, we’ll be going to places around Delhi, should be interesting. Then comes bomb numero uno, we were going to Bihar, specifically to Munger city which is Neha’s native and from there we would be visiting two villages each. Then bomb number two, we would be leaving the day itself for this task. And finally, we would have no return tickets booked until they are satisfied that they get all the answers that this research is supposed to answer. If you have a problem imagining the shock, try hitting yourself with boulders again and again, I think you’ll get there.

Anyways, skipping the details again, the tickets got postponed till Monday, Rajdhani Express Second AC. Since I’ve spent most of my student life travelling in sleeper class, I was actually looking forward to the journey and was kinda disappointed that it would only last for 12 hours. So we finally reach the train, sitting across from us are two uncles, my bet is they were some high officials from the government (based on the fact that they were discussing putting 90 crores in one account and 20 crores in another). Neha had warned me that people tend to look at you like freaks, but I was no way prepared for all the psychos I met during all our train journeys. Funny thing was, we were videotaped in three different occasions. First we avoided the guy, but the next two times it was so irritating that I ended up fighting with them (Warning: It’s never a good idea to fight with people going towards UP or Bihar).

So after changing another train, we reach Munger. Neha’s dad picked us from the station

(Jamalpur). We reach her place and I actually stopped and looked around for a second. The house was built a little less than a hundred years before. Imagine the house with a living room that opens up to a verandah with a tulsi plant and everything and rooms built are the sides (reminded me of endless Hindi movies sets). Her family is the sweetest, most down to earth people I’ve ever met. Her mom informed me that Munger hadn’t seen running electricity or water for the past 3 months. Considering the heat at the place I knew it was going to be difficult. I was also greeted by Neha’s hyper, doesn’t-know-he-weighs-a-ton dog, Noody. After his few attempts at trying to jump on my lap, he settled sitting near me, provided that I made fuss of him every 5 minutes. (Okay the last bit is a lie; he would not stop jumping over me, Neha, her mom and anyone who would come inside the house)

The next two days we spent roaming around in villages from 8 AM till 3 PM, going to aanganwadis, schools, doctors, retails shops and talking to anyone and everyone that we could. We went to Tikarampur, where houses were made entirely of hay, as they would be burned down almost every year, we went to Taufir, where police had been raiding recently as the natives were making illegal arms (yeah, I did not dare to go inside this village. We just spoke a couple of people and ran like hell.)

Every day when we would reach back, Neha’s mom would feed us with the most delicious food, and Uncle would tell us interesting stories about the place we’ve visited. Evening we would sit at the verandah and talk about everyday things. Nights were a bit tough because of the heat. Time moved real slow in Munger and yet when it was time for us to leave, it seem

ed as though the entire week had passed in a blur. I’ve always found it really hard to show affection towards people who have been extremely nice to me. Most times I end up blabbering inconsequential things, nowhere near to what I actually want to say. But before I could begin fumbling with words, Neha’s mom hugged me and told me to take care. I wish I had taken their photos. Two people I would remember for the rest of my life. And Noody decided that if he bites off my right leg, I won’t be going anywhere!

After a back breaking nine-hours late journey, six days later, I’m back to reality. I’m sunburned and half of my hair has decided to fall out. A bit wiser I guess, but two days was not enough for us to know much reality than what we were allowed to see.

Here we go again...

Today I took out my bulky suitcase, dusted the two years of stagnation from it, and opened it to start packing my things... again. It's amazing, I was just rereading my blog, and read all my posts that I wrote before coming to SIMC, my fears, hopes and anxieties. And the present is what it has all boiled down to, another suitcase packed and another journey ended.

I have always been complimented to be a light packer. Even now, I came with three parts, an old brown suitcase that my mom had brought to her new family in her marriage, and I use it to 'run away from home', an orange cloth bag in which I dump everything that doesn't fit anywhere else, like my brain! and a brown air bag that carries my most prized luggage, my books, certificates and likes.

And now after two years I'm still able to fit in my entire possessions in these three pieces. Everything falls in, except the memories that I got from this place. My first project interview and the so called 'party' after that. My first friend here, Lini, who I love with all my heart. My chatty roommate, Preeti. My highly intelligent and serious friend, Neha. And the none stop talker and adviser, Preethy.

My huge room, even bigger than my own room back home, the balcony view from my floor, my first internship and the love I got. Footprints and the hope of maybe being with a 'normal' guy for a change. My second internship and the respect I got. My birthday surprise, cake and gifts. All the nights spent laughing and sharing hopes and dreams. My loss of friend and the part of me that lost with it. A long period of depression. The quieter next birthday. The bo

uts of insomnia and sleeping in class, scratch that, endlessly sleeping in class. The first internals when I scored the highest, my design technology test when I barely passed...

I can't pack it all. It is spilling from my suitcase and unwilling to stay inside the

airbag. I can't carry it all. It's too many memories. I guess I'm not a light packer anymore...

The moment I have been waiting for...

This is it. This is the moment. Look around you, remember this day. Remember the people who were with you when you witnessed history.

I never thought India could win this, and I admit it with shame. Right from the beginning, I kept thinking, except for Sachin, no one else seems to want this enough... But when the last six was hit by Dhoni, and Yuvraj embraced him with tears in his eyes, I knew we deserved every minute of it. We showed what we were made of whenever the opposition threw us off. More than being talented, I believe we were always talented, we were mentally willing to win the game.

I still cannot believe it. My fingers shake while typing this post, my face is still unable to stop smiling. The look on everyone's face when we won. Especially Sachin... Virat Kohli summed it up when Manjarekar asked him the reason for carrying him "He has been carrying the country's dreams for all these years, I thought this is the time we carried him!'

I have always been proud of this country, today my heart swells with pride even more. And as Lini Antony (my friend) said rightly, "Even if the world ends in 2012, I can die knowing that we won the last World Cup!"

Yes, that pretty much sums it up, I guess.

SCORN

Eyes open. He looks around. The stench of blood all around. Corpses lying everywhere. He breathes, heavy…

“I DIDN’T DO THIS!” screamed. He looks around, searching for recognizable faces. There are none. He doesn’t know them anymore. It’s not…

He crashes on his hands, turns and is faced by them, now bloodied. “WHAT IS THE PRICE, TELL ME!!!!”

There is no life, no death, no love or care. You promised before sending me here, you promised that ultimately one would know the consequences. There is none. Nothing but the endless shallow spokes of words, movements and expressions. For what, for who?

Nothing.

He wipes his hand and screams in pain. He or someone had cut his hand. They drop and become a part of the pool below. The stench is fresh now. He gets up, he runs. Away from life, away from it all….

Damn right I'm angry!!!

Angry at the world, and the people in it. The rage has no ends today and there is no outlet. I'm supposed to stay to the orders of the society that doesn't allow outbursts unless you're senile. I'm supposed to keep quite and smile in this godforsaken place, to most people I don't give shit about. And worst of all, I'm supposed to be all calm and composed for tomorrow for the first and I'm pretty sure, not the last interview for my campus placement.

You know what the worst part is, you have these people in your lives that tell you they love you and everything. You never gave them a chance to show. And when you need them to understand, for a moment, for a day, you open up a crack to let them see the darkness inside, they just shut up. And even though you never expected them to understand, it pushes you down even more.

I hate this world today. I hate people in this world who do bad things and get away with it. Bad things to people who you love and care about and feel protective towards. It makes my rage take over me to the point that I can actually feel the blood in my veins burning. I hate the feeling of being hopeless and unable to do anything about it. And then I'm supposed to sit with the general 'normal' crowd and act like everything is fine.

AND YES I'M BLABBERING!! IT'S MY BLOG AND I GET TO DO WHATEVER I WANT WITH IT. YOU HAVE A PROBLEM, GO JUMP OFF A CLIFF!!