Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself....
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their sould dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
These are lines from Khalil Gibran's "On Children". This was one of the few good things about Apna Asmaan. I went with very high hopes, and my mother. The former were mostly dashed, the latter dashingly liked the film, which again indicates that it was bad.
It started off pretty well, the story of a middle class couple trying to cope with their learning-disabled son. Gradually, the tensions and pretensions within the family started to be revealed, and I thought it was going to be a really good movie. But alas! Ah, well, read on.
Anupam Kher, a cosmic allopath, had just invented a brain booster, one injection of which could solve all mental problems. The father, in desperation, offered to try it on his son. Upon injecting the drug (pun, can it be?), the son's mouth started foaming, he dreamt of a dark graveyard with black-cloaked men holding staffs and fire-rimmed crosses (very reminiscent of the Ku Klax Klan), and then collapsed. The parents thought he was dead, but then, very weirdly, he got up panting, and he was just perfect. He was all of a sudden mentally grown up, his mind was working perfectly, and he was pretty much normal.
However, he was suffering from amnesia. The boy was told that Irfan Khan and Shobana, were indeed his parents, and he learnt to live with them. He started liking math, found a book by Shakuntala Devi, became a mathematical genius, started doing stage shows (where he answered any arithmetic question he was asked. Now, who would like to attend such a darned show?), became famous, streaked his hair, pierced his eyebrows, became some sort of a style icon, started going out with a hot actress/model.
However, he also started throwing tantrums at his parents, eventually disowning them. This was because the magical brain booster was actually a narcotic drug (Anupam Kher was some drug peddler on the run from law). The boy had become addicted, and used to visit a cemetery to smoke hash or ganja or whatever with another drug addict.
Now- this gets really funny- there was also an antidote to all this. The parents and the mother's counselor (who quotes the Khalil Gibran lines while lecturing the hapless parents, "Every one can't become a doctor or engineer or genius. Parents don't understand this. That's why we have so many suicides." At this point, my mother, very proud that her son is none of these, sits up and starts nodding) seeked and found Anupam Kher. He sent them on a treasure trail, at the end of which they found the antidote within a copy of the Bhagwad Gita.
There is some cliched analogy at this stage, with the Ramayana. The day they find the antidote is Dusserah, and the parents discuss how they need to kill their "new" genius son to reclaim their "old", mentally-different son.
The son returned home to ask for his money (which is quite a lot by now). The parents wanted to inject him with the antidote. A scuffle resulted, in which the syringe pierced his neck. He collapsed, and upon his recovery, he was back to his stuttering, childish old self.
Yes, the music is good, the message, that unbridled power and intelligence can be destructive, and that it is more important to be nice than to be a genius, is also very good, but the way it is delivered is ludicrous. Also, at one point, when the movie starts appearing really sweet, an implicit advertisement of Nerolac Paints props up. WHY????? It just spoils the entire mood!
The acting is really commendable, though. And I think the way the movie ends is absolutely superb. It is just that it goes wrong on the way.
As for the title, I think Apna Aasman can be taken to mean "To each his own." Everyone has their own dream. It doesn't matter how one does compared to others; what must matter is were we able to reach our own sky. I'll end with that thought- I found the movie really good in parts, the whole package was just stupid, but then you might just like it. As we know, to each his own.
Sunday, September 9
Sunday, August 12
I was in school last Thursday, on the way back from college, to obtain the final proof of my having passed the board exams. It was 3.45, and luckily, Mahesh Uncle, the unsung guy in the ofice responsible for handling documents, was still in...
I used the opportunity of an empty school to wander through the same corridors again, and while passing through the E,F-Blocks' first floor corridors, where IIT coaching classes are held, I experienced a sense of deja vu....wondered how much of me had changed...
Nelson Mandela had written, "It is only when we return to an old place that hasn't changed that we realize how much we ourselves have changed." I would be found sitting in those first floor rooms, trying to cope with life, until Wisdom awoke one day and reminded me that this wasn't what I wanted to be. I think the seed of Stephania, which had been sown by my class 9 Math teacher a couple of years before, was finally given a chance to grow when I left the IIT coaching classes...
I also visited what was my old classroom during the last DPS year....Fortunately, it was vacant. I went and sat on my old seat, and was surprised to know that I've grown taller since the showing-off-to-amrita-datta and arguing-with-gowri ramachandran days....
I was about to leave the school when I decided to visit the MUN room. Then I realized that it would be empty; why would they stay back till 4 PM? Well, another voice spoke, because the MUN training program is 2 days away. Ah!
The MUN room is on the second floor of the D-Block, and standing at a particular point, one can easily see its curtained windows. I confirmed that it was open by squinting at those curtains; they were swaying....I was reminded of a similar situation, exactly 2 years old, August 2005, when I had looked at the same curtains from exactly the same point, and made the same judgement. That time, I had been extremely nervous, self-alienated from the rest of the MUN group, nearing one of my moments of truth....I had just managed to hang on at that time, and yes, perseverance pays, and people understand.
Of course, I can no more identify with what I was then. Months of sleep deprivation and some other things had so eroded my faith in myself that I lived in constant fear of every action I took. It was, again, the leaving of the IIT coaching classes, which returned to me my "self".
So, the MUN room was open, and they were, as expected, very very happy to see me. A man who has made an unexpected decision is somewhat of a novelty, I realized....and it was great fun describing my stephanian experiences...and seeing them all work...ah! They are doing a very good job again, but, as we foresaw, it is largely only the two of them (aanya and sanjana) who seem to be doing all the work. I had observed the same thing at the time of deciding the agenda.
And then, it was au revoir, ma l'ecole....a bientot....
I used the opportunity of an empty school to wander through the same corridors again, and while passing through the E,F-Blocks' first floor corridors, where IIT coaching classes are held, I experienced a sense of deja vu....wondered how much of me had changed...
Nelson Mandela had written, "It is only when we return to an old place that hasn't changed that we realize how much we ourselves have changed." I would be found sitting in those first floor rooms, trying to cope with life, until Wisdom awoke one day and reminded me that this wasn't what I wanted to be. I think the seed of Stephania, which had been sown by my class 9 Math teacher a couple of years before, was finally given a chance to grow when I left the IIT coaching classes...
I also visited what was my old classroom during the last DPS year....Fortunately, it was vacant. I went and sat on my old seat, and was surprised to know that I've grown taller since the showing-off-to-amrita-datta and arguing-with-gowri ramachandran days....
I was about to leave the school when I decided to visit the MUN room. Then I realized that it would be empty; why would they stay back till 4 PM? Well, another voice spoke, because the MUN training program is 2 days away. Ah!
The MUN room is on the second floor of the D-Block, and standing at a particular point, one can easily see its curtained windows. I confirmed that it was open by squinting at those curtains; they were swaying....I was reminded of a similar situation, exactly 2 years old, August 2005, when I had looked at the same curtains from exactly the same point, and made the same judgement. That time, I had been extremely nervous, self-alienated from the rest of the MUN group, nearing one of my moments of truth....I had just managed to hang on at that time, and yes, perseverance pays, and people understand.
Of course, I can no more identify with what I was then. Months of sleep deprivation and some other things had so eroded my faith in myself that I lived in constant fear of every action I took. It was, again, the leaving of the IIT coaching classes, which returned to me my "self".
So, the MUN room was open, and they were, as expected, very very happy to see me. A man who has made an unexpected decision is somewhat of a novelty, I realized....and it was great fun describing my stephanian experiences...and seeing them all work...ah! They are doing a very good job again, but, as we foresaw, it is largely only the two of them (aanya and sanjana) who seem to be doing all the work. I had observed the same thing at the time of deciding the agenda.
And then, it was au revoir, ma l'ecole....a bientot....
Tuesday, June 19
No Time
I have been very busy-busy over the last one month. When you lose you driving license, and then find it, when you visit Dubai with Arun Shourie, and then make an exploratory trip to Mauritius, where you eat whiskey-laced lobsters and parasail above the Indian Ocean; you become a Student's Representative at the Amicale at Alliance Francaise de Delhi, you give your first Violin performance, then you visit Bombay for 10 days where you lean out of the rushing local trains and end up making excellent friends with Pakistanis, when you happen to meet Rashmi Malhotra while out shopping with a Pakistani girl, and also facilitate an Indo-Pak peace conference, only to be awarded (jokingly) the Best Dancer for wobbling your stomach, and then you return immediately to realize that you will be facing the St Stephen's interview board in 2 days- where will you have the time to blog???
Friday, June 1
Another Separation from the Past
I had my last Nirula's free Hot Butterscotch Sundae, the one they dole out to "kids" getting above 90% aggregate or an overall grade of A+. This was my first in the last 3 years- I had always been eligible for it; it's just that I had been either too busy or too occupied to go and get it.
I had feared that they'll stamp my Class 12 report card with their NIRULA'S SCHOLAR seal, and so I had taken only a colored photocopy. The cashier was pretty surprised to see a report card so small in size; yeh kya hai, he asked. "Class 12 Boards....95%," I informed him. He was very impressed, shaking my hand and revering the colored photocopy. Maybe he really thought that it was the original because he didn't stamp it. He eventually did- that too only on the reverse side- but only after I had expressly asked him to. I like that seal. ;)
He gave me a form in which I was supposed to write my address and my school's address. I know what they'll do now- they will send a letter to Mrs. Chona: "Master Karan Nagpal, who told us that he was a student at your school, availed of the opportunity of a free sundae at our vasant Vihar branch. Congratulations! By the way, please reimburse the enclosed bill by next friday."
They will also call my home next february: "Last year, you scored more than 90% in class twelve Best of luck for your exams in class Thirteenth."
The manager at the ice-cream counter was kind enough to tell me, "Twelfth? Twelfth ke bachon ke liye yeh to hai hee nahin. This is only for kids."
"I am also a kid, " was all I could master. He conferenced with 2 of his colleagues, who must have warned him that turning away a sundae-hungry soul like that would only make the soul haunt his toilets for ever. Seeing the writing on the wall, the poor guy gave up and asked one of his men to make one for me. And that was how I got my last ever free sundae. On the last date. During the last hour. So in case you missed it, despite having the 90%, I feel sorry. Maybe you will have a better luck next time. Bonne chance!
I had feared that they'll stamp my Class 12 report card with their NIRULA'S SCHOLAR seal, and so I had taken only a colored photocopy. The cashier was pretty surprised to see a report card so small in size; yeh kya hai, he asked. "Class 12 Boards....95%," I informed him. He was very impressed, shaking my hand and revering the colored photocopy. Maybe he really thought that it was the original because he didn't stamp it. He eventually did- that too only on the reverse side- but only after I had expressly asked him to. I like that seal. ;)
He gave me a form in which I was supposed to write my address and my school's address. I know what they'll do now- they will send a letter to Mrs. Chona: "Master Karan Nagpal, who told us that he was a student at your school, availed of the opportunity of a free sundae at our vasant Vihar branch. Congratulations! By the way, please reimburse the enclosed bill by next friday."
They will also call my home next february: "Last year, you scored more than 90% in class twelve Best of luck for your exams in class Thirteenth."
The manager at the ice-cream counter was kind enough to tell me, "Twelfth? Twelfth ke bachon ke liye yeh to hai hee nahin. This is only for kids."
"I am also a kid, " was all I could master. He conferenced with 2 of his colleagues, who must have warned him that turning away a sundae-hungry soul like that would only make the soul haunt his toilets for ever. Seeing the writing on the wall, the poor guy gave up and asked one of his men to make one for me. And that was how I got my last ever free sundae. On the last date. During the last hour. So in case you missed it, despite having the 90%, I feel sorry. Maybe you will have a better luck next time. Bonne chance!
Thursday, May 31
How I got my Board Result
Parasailing, also known as parascending, is a water sport where a person (two or three people may also ride at the same time) is towed behind a speedboat while attached to a parachute. The boat then drives off, carrying the parascender into the air, to about 200 meters above the ocean. The parascender has little or no control over the parachute.
The beach from which our speedboat started is called Mue Suasi, supposed to be the longest strip of sand in Mauritius. The boat initially cruised over the shallow coral waters, and then we were in the deep blue ocean. The sea was rough- our little winch-boat bobbed up and down as it sped towards the horizon. The instructors strapped a life-jacket over my chest, pumped it with air, and then buckled it to the parachute. I was made to sit (rather, bend my knees) on a harness. The whole thing was connected by an extendible rope (later found out to be a total of 200 m in length) to the boat.
When everything was ready, I stood on the the small launchpad of the boat, said bye to Dad, who would remain in the boat, and suddenly, I was off. At first, it was fun. Hovering a few feet above the boat, I felt a rush of cool sea wind, and looked around. Before I could realize and shout to make them stop, I was up, up, and up. The boat grew progessively smaller in size, until I could see it no more. I was all alone up there, hanging on for dear life. My feet swayed struggling to mantain the sitting position that I had been warned to keep. The parachute swerved to one side, and then the other, and as Wikipedia so kindy pointed out in the opening lines of this post, "...the parascender...," had "....no control over the parachute." Fortunately, the sun was hidden that day, and i could easily look around. It was all water till the horizon on the left, all water till the horizon on the right, a little belt of trees and beach at the horizon straight ahead (the boat had reversed its direction, and was now travelling back towards the beach), and I'm sure (though i didn't dare look), all water behind me as well.
It was lonely up there- and uncomfortable. I have never practiced a more difficult yoga aasan than the position my body was in up there, 200 m above sea, and another 100m above the sea-bed. It was then that I felt the tug. The coaches had warned me before take-off that when they'll be "landing" me, there will be a slight tuck-tuck. But up there, I was convinced that the rope had snapped. It hadn't; I have lived to tell the tale. But it became so uncomfortable just before the end, that I shouted into air, "Get me back FAST!"
When I was just a few feet up, i shouted, "Hi Papa!" I had made it back, torn, broken, but safe. Dad's voice was breathless with emotion: "Karan," he said as soon as I stepped out of the harness, "you got 95%! Mummy just called (mummy was in delhi)....I told her I'll call her back again, but she said you've got 95%! Congrats, beta!!!!"
I had a lot of difficulty in restraining myself from jumping in the boat with joy...No, of course that wasn't how I got the results. Of course, I did do parasailing, but that was exactly 12 hours before they came. Here's what happened:
In the wee hours of Friday morning, the couple in the room adjoining ours- in mauritius- called up the hotel reception, to complain about "the extremely unruly behavior of the Asians next door, shreiking and fighting in the middle of the night." They were badly mistaken. Dad and I weren't fighting; he was laughing and I was shrieking with joy.
The time was 2.30. Extremely nervous, I had laid down to sleep barely 45 minutes earlier, and had dreamt that I'd got 40% marks in all subjects in the board exams. I cannot describe the relief I felt when my eyes opened and i realized that it was only a dream. The lights were on, and Dad was not in bed. I heard him in the toilet, and went to hug him. "I had a very bad dream...I had only 40 in all subjects." I felt almost like crying, and didn't tell him what else I had seen: in the dream, i saw dad tell me, "I wish you'd studied harder, you took it all too lightly."
He had difficulty speaking with all the emotion in his voice, "beta, don't worry. You've got 95%."
Seriously? I asked
He said, "Haan beta. Mummy just called. Your aggregate is 95. I had to go to the toilet immediately, so I told her I'll call back to get the break-up."
The tenth board result, though different in almost every conceivable aspect, was same in atleast one: Dad, on the phone, writing the marks on a very ordinary scrap of paper, and I, disbelievingly looking as the result appeared in dad's illegitible handwriting.
Mom had the marks corresponding only to the subject codes. I didn't want it to be that inexact; i took the phone and shouted across the indian ocean, "ma! admit card nikalo! admit card nikalo! Codes and subjects are written in that! Jaldi karo!"
Here's what came out:
English: 91
Economics: 91
Physics: 95
Chemistry: 98
Math: 97
I kept hoping that eco was not one of the 2 91's....i had been expecting nothing less than 98 in that. But it was. It was the only thing that wasn't what i wanted it to be that morning.
I tried to make myself happier by telling dad, "Kya pata? maybe the whole class's economics result is kharaab. Maybe in that way I'm lucky to have even got that much.
I was right. Nothing short of a disaster. 55, 77, 84, 82, 86, 69...and these are the marks of our class's toppers. People who'd otherwise have got 92, 96, 97...Luckily, Delhi University understands this, and that's why they consider only best of 4. So those friends who had been counting on DU, can chuck economics and submit only their english, physics, chem, and math marks.
The beach from which our speedboat started is called Mue Suasi, supposed to be the longest strip of sand in Mauritius. The boat initially cruised over the shallow coral waters, and then we were in the deep blue ocean. The sea was rough- our little winch-boat bobbed up and down as it sped towards the horizon. The instructors strapped a life-jacket over my chest, pumped it with air, and then buckled it to the parachute. I was made to sit (rather, bend my knees) on a harness. The whole thing was connected by an extendible rope (later found out to be a total of 200 m in length) to the boat.
When everything was ready, I stood on the the small launchpad of the boat, said bye to Dad, who would remain in the boat, and suddenly, I was off. At first, it was fun. Hovering a few feet above the boat, I felt a rush of cool sea wind, and looked around. Before I could realize and shout to make them stop, I was up, up, and up. The boat grew progessively smaller in size, until I could see it no more. I was all alone up there, hanging on for dear life. My feet swayed struggling to mantain the sitting position that I had been warned to keep. The parachute swerved to one side, and then the other, and as Wikipedia so kindy pointed out in the opening lines of this post, "...the parascender...," had "....no control over the parachute." Fortunately, the sun was hidden that day, and i could easily look around. It was all water till the horizon on the left, all water till the horizon on the right, a little belt of trees and beach at the horizon straight ahead (the boat had reversed its direction, and was now travelling back towards the beach), and I'm sure (though i didn't dare look), all water behind me as well.
It was lonely up there- and uncomfortable. I have never practiced a more difficult yoga aasan than the position my body was in up there, 200 m above sea, and another 100m above the sea-bed. It was then that I felt the tug. The coaches had warned me before take-off that when they'll be "landing" me, there will be a slight tuck-tuck. But up there, I was convinced that the rope had snapped. It hadn't; I have lived to tell the tale. But it became so uncomfortable just before the end, that I shouted into air, "Get me back FAST!"
When I was just a few feet up, i shouted, "Hi Papa!" I had made it back, torn, broken, but safe. Dad's voice was breathless with emotion: "Karan," he said as soon as I stepped out of the harness, "you got 95%! Mummy just called (mummy was in delhi)....I told her I'll call her back again, but she said you've got 95%! Congrats, beta!!!!"
I had a lot of difficulty in restraining myself from jumping in the boat with joy...No, of course that wasn't how I got the results. Of course, I did do parasailing, but that was exactly 12 hours before they came. Here's what happened:
In the wee hours of Friday morning, the couple in the room adjoining ours- in mauritius- called up the hotel reception, to complain about "the extremely unruly behavior of the Asians next door, shreiking and fighting in the middle of the night." They were badly mistaken. Dad and I weren't fighting; he was laughing and I was shrieking with joy.
The time was 2.30. Extremely nervous, I had laid down to sleep barely 45 minutes earlier, and had dreamt that I'd got 40% marks in all subjects in the board exams. I cannot describe the relief I felt when my eyes opened and i realized that it was only a dream. The lights were on, and Dad was not in bed. I heard him in the toilet, and went to hug him. "I had a very bad dream...I had only 40 in all subjects." I felt almost like crying, and didn't tell him what else I had seen: in the dream, i saw dad tell me, "I wish you'd studied harder, you took it all too lightly."
He had difficulty speaking with all the emotion in his voice, "beta, don't worry. You've got 95%."
Seriously? I asked
He said, "Haan beta. Mummy just called. Your aggregate is 95. I had to go to the toilet immediately, so I told her I'll call back to get the break-up."
The tenth board result, though different in almost every conceivable aspect, was same in atleast one: Dad, on the phone, writing the marks on a very ordinary scrap of paper, and I, disbelievingly looking as the result appeared in dad's illegitible handwriting.
Mom had the marks corresponding only to the subject codes. I didn't want it to be that inexact; i took the phone and shouted across the indian ocean, "ma! admit card nikalo! admit card nikalo! Codes and subjects are written in that! Jaldi karo!"
Here's what came out:
English: 91
Economics: 91
Physics: 95
Chemistry: 98
Math: 97
I kept hoping that eco was not one of the 2 91's....i had been expecting nothing less than 98 in that. But it was. It was the only thing that wasn't what i wanted it to be that morning.
I tried to make myself happier by telling dad, "Kya pata? maybe the whole class's economics result is kharaab. Maybe in that way I'm lucky to have even got that much.
I was right. Nothing short of a disaster. 55, 77, 84, 82, 86, 69...and these are the marks of our class's toppers. People who'd otherwise have got 92, 96, 97...Luckily, Delhi University understands this, and that's why they consider only best of 4. So those friends who had been counting on DU, can chuck economics and submit only their english, physics, chem, and math marks.
Tuesday, May 15
My Mobile's Gone
I have spent the better part of last hour trying to get my mobile back up again. It was supposed to be a routine affair- with the balance finished, I drove to the nearby market (the car must have touched atleast 5 people on the way- no, nobody was hit) and bought a recharge coupon.
Back home, I tried recharging the phone 4 times using the coupon, but to no avail. Each time I tried, I received the same response: "Error code, indicates voucher not found."
So I drove back to the market (this time I was in the passenger seat) and went back to the tiny cubicle from which the mobile shop operates. The owner tried another 6 times, and then tried calling the Hutch Customer Service, all to no avail.
Initially, he told me Aapka phone band ho gaya hai. Phir sare paper dene padhenge. This really irritated me. I told him Mera to lifetime recharge hai. Expiry hogi 2012 mein. Then he said Woh to theek hai, par aapko firse sare paper jama karvaane padhenge. I said Lekin message aa raha hai ki Card Invalid. Phone to chal raha hai.
Then he softened. He told me that apparently, the Hutch server is down. So it will refuse to recharge mobile phones for some more time. While I was waiting, I saw them turn back 6 customers who wanted to buy Hutch Prepaid Cards.
I asked Has this ever happened before? He said Yes, yeh hota rehta hai. I asked Kitni der tak rehta hai? He said Kuch ek ghanta, kabhi do bhi.
So there was no real point in waiting there. He returned the card, took down its serial number, recharge code (okaaaay), and my contact numbers. He said Don't try again. Your phone and this card can be locked. He also said I will keep trying, and when I get through I will call you up.
I said okay. There was no other way other than to trust him. While leaving, I had to say, Aap bengali ho? Main bhi bengali hoon, lekin bangla nahin aati.
No, I ain't Bangla, but had to relate to him just in case. Wonder what difference it will make though.
I regret telling him at one point of time, rather angrily, Phir meko aap doosra card de do. Of course, there was no point of saying that and I regret it even more now.
So, I have 29 paise left in the phone. No calls, no messages. Lekin aap log call kar sakte ho.
Back home, I tried recharging the phone 4 times using the coupon, but to no avail. Each time I tried, I received the same response: "Error code, indicates voucher not found."
So I drove back to the market (this time I was in the passenger seat) and went back to the tiny cubicle from which the mobile shop operates. The owner tried another 6 times, and then tried calling the Hutch Customer Service, all to no avail.
Initially, he told me Aapka phone band ho gaya hai. Phir sare paper dene padhenge. This really irritated me. I told him Mera to lifetime recharge hai. Expiry hogi 2012 mein. Then he said Woh to theek hai, par aapko firse sare paper jama karvaane padhenge. I said Lekin message aa raha hai ki Card Invalid. Phone to chal raha hai.
Then he softened. He told me that apparently, the Hutch server is down. So it will refuse to recharge mobile phones for some more time. While I was waiting, I saw them turn back 6 customers who wanted to buy Hutch Prepaid Cards.
I asked Has this ever happened before? He said Yes, yeh hota rehta hai. I asked Kitni der tak rehta hai? He said Kuch ek ghanta, kabhi do bhi.
So there was no real point in waiting there. He returned the card, took down its serial number, recharge code (okaaaay), and my contact numbers. He said Don't try again. Your phone and this card can be locked. He also said I will keep trying, and when I get through I will call you up.
I said okay. There was no other way other than to trust him. While leaving, I had to say, Aap bengali ho? Main bhi bengali hoon, lekin bangla nahin aati.
No, I ain't Bangla, but had to relate to him just in case. Wonder what difference it will make though.
I regret telling him at one point of time, rather angrily, Phir meko aap doosra card de do. Of course, there was no point of saying that and I regret it even more now.
So, I have 29 paise left in the phone. No calls, no messages. Lekin aap log call kar sakte ho.
The Day My Car Hit 110 kmph
And then it was all freedom- a free surge towards the beckoning road, towards the green forest on my right, towards the dark clouds for which I knew I was one day destined....I was weightless, pushed back against my seat, unaware of the enormous weight it was exerting against my back. Very slowly, not wanting to let go of the delight, I lifted my bare right foot off the accelerator, and saw the speedometer needle swing anti-clockwise toward the seventies...
I am sorry for not being able to post for, as my dashboard tells me, 8 days. I have been writing for my old class blog, the 10-E blog, writing a series of posts on the teachers who taught us back then. It has been a wonderful experience, and I'm amazed that I carried so many incidents with me, submerged within my sub-conscious mind. You can read the 5-part series at teneof2004.blogspot.com.
There was not much to write about either. I'll review the Namesake soon, but as of now I've only read the book. I want to review the movie and the book together. I also have to post the list of 100 Books that Naita has tagged me with, as well as a post on the whole point of a blog.
Recently, I stumbled upon a blog that had a couple of my friends as members. It has been inactive since February, but I found this post, first published last October:
I am the PRESIDENT SECURITY COUNCIL in DPSMUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I first found out last night, when Prateek sent me a mail congratulating me, and then we chatted last night, Prateek, Shoikat and me, and Prateek clarified.This morning, I just got the call. It was Karan to whom this wonderful task of spreading joy was given, and he wished me for all the festivals, and then congratulated me. So I *hehe* feigned ignorance, and I asked what for.
"For becoming a chair at DPSMUN."
"Are you SERIOUS?????? What Committee?"
"Security Council."
*silence*
"Oh..my...god....Are you sure?? That's amazing!!! omg, I can't believe it!!! Shit, woooooowwwwww!!! SECURITY COUNCIL!!!! Thanks so much!!!"
And I went on and on in a similar vein, and Karan was just laughing at me indulgently.
This paragraph awoke several dormant memories within my mind. I'm having a lot of difficulty in finding the right word for how I felt reading this post, this recounting of the conversation I had with her. Reading it, I could clearly imagine my telephone call to Sanjana last October: I had been in the car, on the way to नानी-घर. It was the afternoon of Bhai Dooj, and the festivals she mentions were Diwali, Bhai Dooj, and Id (the last two had coincided last year).
It was so much like the other conversations I'd had that day; after all, I'd called up twenty people and uttered almost the same words. Naturally, all the reactions hadn't been similar: I remember one executive board member even said Shit; not the shit of surprise, but the shit of frustration.
What had seemed so ordinary back then, and thus had been relegated to the back of my mind, suddenly flashed back, and came alive today. And made me want to post.
I am sorry for not being able to post for, as my dashboard tells me, 8 days. I have been writing for my old class blog, the 10-E blog, writing a series of posts on the teachers who taught us back then. It has been a wonderful experience, and I'm amazed that I carried so many incidents with me, submerged within my sub-conscious mind. You can read the 5-part series at teneof2004.blogspot.com.
There was not much to write about either. I'll review the Namesake soon, but as of now I've only read the book. I want to review the movie and the book together. I also have to post the list of 100 Books that Naita has tagged me with, as well as a post on the whole point of a blog.
Recently, I stumbled upon a blog that had a couple of my friends as members. It has been inactive since February, but I found this post, first published last October:
I am the PRESIDENT SECURITY COUNCIL in DPSMUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I first found out last night, when Prateek sent me a mail congratulating me, and then we chatted last night, Prateek, Shoikat and me, and Prateek clarified.This morning, I just got the call. It was Karan to whom this wonderful task of spreading joy was given, and he wished me for all the festivals, and then congratulated me. So I *hehe* feigned ignorance, and I asked what for.
"For becoming a chair at DPSMUN."
"Are you SERIOUS?????? What Committee?"
"Security Council."
*silence*
"Oh..my...god....Are you sure?? That's amazing!!! omg, I can't believe it!!! Shit, woooooowwwwww!!! SECURITY COUNCIL!!!! Thanks so much!!!"
And I went on and on in a similar vein, and Karan was just laughing at me indulgently.
This paragraph awoke several dormant memories within my mind. I'm having a lot of difficulty in finding the right word for how I felt reading this post, this recounting of the conversation I had with her. Reading it, I could clearly imagine my telephone call to Sanjana last October: I had been in the car, on the way to नानी-घर. It was the afternoon of Bhai Dooj, and the festivals she mentions were Diwali, Bhai Dooj, and Id (the last two had coincided last year).
It was so much like the other conversations I'd had that day; after all, I'd called up twenty people and uttered almost the same words. Naturally, all the reactions hadn't been similar: I remember one executive board member even said Shit; not the shit of surprise, but the shit of frustration.
What had seemed so ordinary back then, and thus had been relegated to the back of my mind, suddenly flashed back, and came alive today. And made me want to post.
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