You see a dark rugged guy, wearing a bemused expression, Naughtily grinning at a guy wearing a red color t shirt with flower prints, or glued to anything that remotely resembles a TV (even the OOH media thingi is good), always wearing a pair of earphones even though he is not actually listening to anything, and occasionally letting out a few words that are insanely sane, walking like he owns the road, it COULD be HIM 🙂
The four of us were in school, supposedly one of the hippest schools in the small town madurai. We had the privilege of coming home at 1 in the afternoon, it was a five hour school. Usually we come home to an empty house waiting to have the most brilliant time of the day. It is not hard to imagine a house with four little girls and a Dog and No Neighbors, but in my opinion it is another name for Paradise. We were the rulers. we made the rules and broke them.
One such afternoons, I saw from a distance that the house was open. Parents!!!! they were home, On a weekday. We already had plans for the afternoon, We had made deals over who should read the Archie’s comic that would have got delivered that day first, and arguing about what movie to watch, and who should take up the responsibility of cleaning the house before the Kings come home, so it all looks spic and span and we have no road blocks for the next day of fun. We were disappointed. The gate was open and Mom and Dad were standing at the gate. There were 10 policemen standing in different corners of the barren land opposite the house, near all the acacia trees. They had funky walkies talkies and I was able to hear the word “OVER” over and over again.
The Previous Day ….
The plan for the afternoon was to play the notorious Police Thief game. We had gone to another level and we made it a really engaging game story. We make the plans when we walk from the bus stop home. There were No neighbors for us, our house was a corner house and the roads were Unmetalled. So we had marked a huge area where the game is allowed to happen which encompassed 3 big houses opposite to ours. The police team appointed a spy in the thief team to give them hints (part of a deal and the thief guys didn’t know). Soon there were almost 10 of us. 5 in each team and the game started. The spy, which was my sis, left the Police trails on the road, wherever they went and the Hints where coded and written on the roads with sticks and stones. One of Hints said “There is lot of gold under the acacia tree “, written in the Local language (Tamil). This essentially meant the thieves were near the acacia tree. Thus the police over powered the thieves, and were basking in the Glory.
My sis slyly went near my dad and asked him what was up. He said the Police were there because they got some clues about where the jewelery stolen in the neighborhood was hidden. Apparently it was written on the road and our neighbor who had come to get some flowers from our garden noticed the stuff written on the road about the jewelry under the acacia tree. My parents were held up at home because they wanted to investigate. The four of us were dumbstruck. My little sis just blurted out “I wrote it!!!!”
Soon all the acacia trees around were uprooted. The little plants were saved. Thanks to my sister’s precise clue giving skills. They never came to know it was us. My dad just put us all in the room until the Policemen left. After the investigation was over, we had a big laugh about the whole thing.
This is not something I made up Trust me. It really happened!
The sky was the early orange and the sun was young and beautiful. He got up and picked up his axe while nonchalantly humming a rustic meloncholy. He had to walk 5 kms from his little hut in the middle of a forest clearing. His son and daughter were in deep sleep under a bedsheet that covered them like a shroud. He started trotting his way to the destination, while he heard the sparrows chirp and see the sun get old, yet wholehearted and happy. He thought to himself “Im going to earn enough today to stay home with my kids tomorrow”.
The evening was as pleasant as ever. Kids were playing in the park and there were couples sitting in all the benches. There was a mild drizzle and the 4 o clock sun was just not ready to go behind the clouds. It was just trying to show itself off in front of the clouds so there had to be a rainbow now. A little kid was learning to fly a kite, the kite just wouldn’t budge. his dad showed him how to deceive the kite and he picked it up so fast and was running around the park with the kite just flying about 5 feet above him. he was still too happy, to let go off his childishly haughty grin.
It was a warm winter night. The staircase was as abandoned as ever. The moon was shining on the abandoned staircase through the leaves of the huge tree, the soft wind hustled through the leaves brushed against the both of them.Her hair flew and fell on her cheeks. His fingers softly caressed her cheeks to set her hair right. she turned pink and blushed like never before. He just took her in both his arms and kissed her for the first time.
The first thing I remember when I think about my alma mater is the peacocks screaming hoarsely and dancing gracefully on the meera bhawan terrace and for some reason these two happenings always gave me a very warm feeling in my heart because of the things that followed.
Thank you pavlov
Usually this was the time I got back to the hostel after having a nice little munch at the redi, my mouth waters as I type this even after experiencing all sorts of cuisine all over the world I still miss the malai masala sandwich from RP Redi, talk about positive reinforcement.
Dinner at the mess was mostly a ritual which involved very little eating and a lot of lacha about the cullinary skills of the Pilani cuisine and the expert chefs. There was a fundamental bond that made even the worst of foes at the hostel to remind each other about “cowmin day”
“it is cowmin today yuck”
Then we mostly talk about quintessential Pilani Cuisine like rasam that had onions, Cowmin( renamed it so we save grace for the world that eats real chow mien) or the white pebbles that seldom resemble Idlis or some other Pilanian dish that is a duplicate of a continental or a Mediterranean cuisine
We got corn flakes for breakfast along with bread butter and jilabi ?!?!
after dinner, is mostly winding down time, although there is no point calling it that when winding down is all I did the entire day. While a ghotu starts thinking about visiting the library for getting question papers, for someone like me who did not know who my registered profs were until the profs mailed me asking to collect my exam papers or reminded me about my make up test, It is Gate call time and we cant move anywhere away from the hostel premises, since we belonged to the era of technologically challenged Pilani. There were no mobiles or wireless communication devices and the only communication device for the other gender to contact us when we are in hostel is either through GTALK or through the PA system through which the linguistically different chowki yells our possibly mutilated
Suu-VAAR-NAAAA –130 (screams 3 times and I am still munching my Kurkure
after a few mins realizing it is my name)
If no one from the other gender was looking for me, My friends and I used to walk to c-not and climb on one of those typical little walls where road-side romeos sat on in the normal world and set the gossip wheel spinning while having a milkshake from Bluemoon.
Ever heard of “Bad Donkey Small wall” (google translate to Tamil)
Worst, sexist thing about BITS, Curfew at 11 and only for girls and it would already be 10:55 .
Run find your cycles .
I never used to remember where I leave it almost every time , so I grab the wrong cycle, which looks similar to mine, then after wheeling it out , I would realize it is not mine, because this one does not make that screechy noise mine makes when wheeled, and then figure out I had parked it on the opposite side of the road, (oh Yeah, that is how long we gossip at the c’not! long enough to forget where your stuff went) rush to take it out and in the process, push some 15 cycles parked on the side of each other down, feel sorry for the owners for a few seconds, contemplate whether to set it right, then look at the watch!!
Gosh it is 11 PM already!!!
Tour de Pilani from C’Not to Meera Bhawan in less than 1 minute and ….
get yelled at by the differently- linguistic chowki and feel happy that he can never pronounce your name, sign in a celebrity name (pick the most controversial celebrity) in the late register and get back to my room.
This used to be a one of the typical days after classes . (never mind if you don’t go to classes, rinse-repeat.) there were hundreds of such typical days. Each of them different. Each of them more meaningful, simpler and happier and sometimes makes me think, The only thing that makes these days special is that you can never live them again, not even in your dreams. Life has to go on and a living has to be made, or so they say 🙂 !
He should learn to live. Surrounded by hatred and negligence. Uncared and Alone in the blend of this monotonous world.
Alone in the Rain I walk
With nothing but darkness flanking me,
I know not where the path takes me
Away from the blend of this monotony
Trodden with spite deceit and agony
I tread my way to
Where I belong
Where there is peace
Untainted by spite
Where there is truth
Unshaded by deceit
With faith Unshaken,
Heart heavy and grief-ridden
The lonely road I walk
With Solitude for company…
I initially thought Oblivion was somethin to do with the teanage and the quarter life crisis where u live a life that doesn have much scope for expectation. You have no idea what you are made of.But now here is what I have to say about this crazy word which has meanings untold
What will you do if you lived in a place with temperatures varying between -2degress in winder to 52 degrees in summer and you got no scope of occupation except may be cultivate a few of those dry arid area vegetation which have to be sold in some far off place which means you have to toil and make them grow some how and then haul ass along with those stuff to some better area which has some marketing scope. Phew ! just thinkin about it leaves me sulky.
I stay in one such places -Pilani I am an undergrad student at BITS-Pilani. I didn not pay attention to the day-to-day life of the natives of this place till one day I thought I’ll go this place called “VFAST” where you get this really yummy food for a few bucks more but then the plan went in the pooper and me was dissappointed. You see getting good food in hostel is like having Punjabi lassi on a hot summer afternoon. So dissappointment was sky high.Then I went out with my friend to do some work it was to get some food from the professors and distribute it to the children in the village.
Yes! There is a Village outside the campus which is not Nutan. This is where a lot of rickshaw walas and the dobis who have worked in the BITS Campus live
My Friend generally called me to help her because someone who had to come did not turn up. We started off in the cycle that mid summer morning and that day became one of the most important days of my life. The day I learnt something very signifcant and I am Indebted to my Alma mater for this particular day!
We went to all the professors’ houses, collected food, packed the food and started off to the pilani vilage, right behind the gliders club. I have been in BITS for four years and this was the first time I went to do this thing and I gotta see the miserable plight of these people. There were around 80 food packets.We landed near a banyan tree and called people to collect food. Soon there was a rucus. It was unbeleivable. Grown ups and children fighting for food.Old people grabbing food from children and running away.Children being beaten up with chappals by middle aged rickshaw walas since they wanted to get some packets for the household. Everything was happening before my eyes I just thought about the irony of fate .I was dissappointed because I did’nt get to eat out, They were dissappointed because they did not get any food to eat how can things be so different? I still am not able to forget those little outstreched hands begging for food. I have never felt so helpless before.