RefleKtions

NITH to POWERGRID

2009-10-11T23:36:00.000-07:00

The road connecting college to the corporate world is tiresome but once you reach the gates of your would be office on the first day, the sheer joy of a new beginning overcomes all the hardships you had to face to reach here. While shifting from home to the corporate centre, though the traveler bag you carry is the same which you carried to your college last winters just that the jeans and tees get replaced by formals. Also, now in the absence of friends to share the baggage you have to hire a coolie.
The grass definitely is greener here but you would long to go back to those moonlit summer nights, taking a stroll along the green college ground. The lectures which seemed so repetitive and boring become significant here. Sometimes one feels guilty of not listening to our technical guardians. A classroom full of life, fun and knowledge when converts into a cubical too small to fit in, it feels like running back to the comfortable confines of the college life with same old friends, teachers, campus and hostel life.
The guy sitting next to you is not thinking “Shaam ko main aur Pandu geedi marne jayenge”, but he is keenly assessing your weaknesses, thinking of ways and means to lead you in the rat race. One realizes upon spending ones salary now, that the stuff you so freely handed out to Nescafe, Verka, Juice Bar and Ekta, was not paper but your fathers hard earned money.

From Kapil General Store to Shopping malls,
From Nescafe to café coffee day,
From Verka to Mc Donalds,
From sleeping ‘Mirpur to sleepless Delhi,
From caring friends to competing foes,
From friends who were girls to Girl friends,
From kind teachers to cruel bosses,
From mess food to messy food,
From LIFE to a LIVING.

The transformation has been wonderful.

Escape to NITH

2009-09-08T07:32:00.000-07:00

We all at some time or other leave one place to shift to new lands for moving on in life. While leaving college some months back the pain was unbearable. The man’s ego held back the tears, still my eyes revealed the state of heart. Friends held my hand firmly as if wanting to avert this separation. The cab driver honked anxiously telling it was time we said good bye. For long I kept looking back till I could no more see them. The roads where I had roamed with friends, the benches outside admin where many afternoons were spent waiting for lectures to begin, a lot happening over a cup of coffee at Nescafe and every thing about my college called me back. But it was not possible. The cab sped out of hills and in few hours I came too far from that heaven called NIT Hamirpur.

Back at home the appointment letter of POWERGRID was waiting for me. Jubilation and celebration followed and soon it was time I again packed my bags to attend the call of career. Faridabad NCR, our first stoppage in a year long training, was hot and humid. This further made me miss the cool and cozy college campus. I started talking to juniors thinking that would help make the transformation from campus to company easy. But this backfired and now the desire to escape to the Alma mater grew strong like a tsunami. We got our first salary by the end of august. It was by every means more than what our pockets could manage. The very next weekend I decided to run back to the green pines where uncountable memories were waiting for my return. The sight of ISBT bus stand filled me with nostalgia. It was a moonlit night. Thus, allowing me a bluish grey view outside. Somewhat like the black and white movie of yesteryear. I could not sleep. As the bus crossed Una, familiar clay hills injected into me a sense of belongingness to this land. The rising sun seemed to welcome me back home. As the bus stopped finally at ‘Mirpur bus stand, I waited for some bus/cab driver to come to me and say “kutti jani”. "REC", I replied with energy and smile.

Next couple of days amidst greenery and juniors I cupped life with both hands and replenished my soul with it. Though there was a change in the air about college still it possessed the same aroma which made us forget all our worries and gave us strength to keep moving higher in life. In the 36 hours I stayed there I slept just for 3 hours. This itself tells how much life is there at NITH.

It was time to say good bye again. I walked with heavy steps towards gate 1. Accompanied by few friends who had come to c me off... I wished to stay longer and spend some more time with juniors and the campus. When they put their hands forward for the final shake I was reluctant but then this is what life is all about; moving on, leaving behind memories and people. As I walked out of college gates I recalled words of a close friend from my batch :

"I want to go back to the time when our ELE deptt. was our fav timepass, when love was waiting at nescafe just to see them pass by, when frnds shoulder was the highest place on earth, when your worst enemies were your teachers, when the only thing that could hurt was misunderstanding amongst friends and when good byes only meant till tomorrow"

Couple Mania

2009-04-23T08:41:00.000-07:00

I am neither averse to the couples walking up and down the mall road of NITH, nor a die hard member of the singles club. Mine is a hung assembly. Oscillating between these two domains I try drawing the joys and sorrows of falling in love and being alien to this four letter idiocy.

As the clock strikes 5:00, the love birds creep out of their nests. Some smelling wood, some pine and some whatever their friend could provide him or her with. The experienced couples know which location to choose for the evening. Like the mall road is unsafe coz the teachers make it really uncomfortable. Admin is haunted by babas. Ground is safe till there is no match going on. OAT is uninhabited and safe for couples who are in true love but for the diffident it is not the right place.

The recent spurt in the couple culture indicates that being in love is no more a chance but has become a necessity. You have to appear in an interview and you realize your shoe is lost. You borrow it from your friend which is one size less than yours. Still since this is a necessity, you compromise. In the interview you are smiling ears to ears and all this while your feet are cursing you for the ordeal. Same is the case with the couples around here. An extremely tall guy with a pitiably short girl, a fat pie with a living skeleton, and like wise, but since it is a necessity no one wants to wait for a perfectly fitting soul mate but just does it.

The ones (there are few I know), truly, madly and sadly in love would accept that Love is a plural feeling. It brings happiness, belongingness, support, pain and what not. Love is not in breaking and again making up but in never breaking up. To be in love you need not walk under the green pines whole day long, but just thinking about each other is love. Love is not in seeing each other every day but in missing each other every minute. Love is not in oscillating between Verka and Nescafe, but in witnessing together a setting sun and full moon. Also love does not happen every now and then. It happens just once. And it’s worth falling in love once.

An Unfortunate Grand Child

2009-01-25T02:04:00.000-08:00

I am an unfortunate grand child. By the time I could understand the joy of seeing my grand parents, their hugs and kisses, blessings and care, I was sent to a boarding school.
In vacations I used to travel across the hills and plains to the backyards of my hometown, where they lived. They would do my arti first and then shower this deprived soul with their love and affection. The world would seem to me a small place with just three beings, me and my grand parents. Some times I and grandmother would form alliance to tease grand pa and upon him getting angry, my grandmother would go near his ears to whisper something which would let him lose his temper.
All grandmothers have magic in their hands and mine was no exception. I write this with a taste of her jalebis still on my palate. She could not write but was good in reading minds. She understood my romantic expeditions to the neighbor’s house where a cute little girl stayed, my likes and dislikes and everything else which even my mama could not make out.
I remember coming back to my home in the town during a summer vacation. My father did not take me to the village. That evening grand father took the arti alone; for the first time I had seen him without my grand ma. As he blessed me, I enquired about her. He said she was ill and we shall go meet her next morning. At about midnight, all in my house started crying. I went to grand pa to hear him say “she wanted to see her grand child once”.
On Monday, 19th Jan, 2009, I received a call from my mama. “Babu, dadajee ko heart attack aaya hai”. I missed a heart beat. In college, inside class I could not even show my concern. At 80, this was the third time it had hit him.
Last December while I was at home he wanted to meet me but due to bad weather he could not travel. It had been more than a year that I met him. Then he was growing old but was steady. As I hugged him I could feel his heart beating against my chest. The heart sounded strong.
Today with that sound of his heartbeat resonating in my mind I lie on my bed with a feeling of guilt of not accompanying him on his last journey which began the previous night. I requested the cell phone, which gave the news to me, to be taken near his ears and whispered “I love you”. I knew my grand ma used to say this in his ears when he went angry over anything and I expect as he used to forgive grand ma he would forgive me too.

Hum Kaale Hain Toh Kya Hua Dilwale Hain

2008-11-11T08:20:00.001-08:00

At times you hang me on the wall and at others I am made to stand on a pair of thin and steely legs. Some times your master leans over me and sometimes you hit me. Some stare at me while others ignore me completely. Ironically, after lightening up the learning minds I am dumped into darkness. Yes friends I am the black board.
My day starts with a routine cleansing of me and my friends-the benches and dusters. Here the dirty sweeper puts more dust on me than he removes.After this, we eagerly wait for the learned and the learners. Some students reach before time, while some are regular in being late. Sometimes it happens that after many days I see a new face sitting amongst his friends and listening attentively to his teacher as if he never missed any class.
During the class it is entertaining to watch the students. The one sitting at the back is an Abhinab Bindra in making; aiming accurately for the girls. The girls on the other hand who sit in the front rows make me feel uncomfortable; staring constantly at my dark face and feeble naked legs. But I like the one sitting on the right most corner. She is a fairy of never-land and I am the char (lie) of coal (land). Once she came very close to me. I tried best but could not help shivering. Her hands so soft, lips so red made me fall in love with her.The guys who sit in the front rows also neglect me completely. They are more interested in the chalk marks over me. Hence like other blacks, I am a victim of racial discrimination.
These days I am facing tough competition from various other mediums of teaching. The installation of projectors was a severe blow to my very existence.The students fell in love with the bright and fair projectors unaware of the fact that the projector puts them in dark and itself enjoys the light, while I keep my self in dark and brighten up their lives.
My best friends are the duster and chalks. I never mind the chalks scratching against my surface, though the duster immediately comes to my help, to softly remove the friendly stains left over by the chalk.
The class will end in some time. How do I know this!! It’s easy... when students stop looking outside, girls stop getting hit and there is a sound 'chhor do’, it indicates that time is over. Over the years I have learned this word and these days I too join them in unison...'chhor do sir'.

FAIRER SIDE OF FAIRER SEX

2008-09-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

While walking through the road along the girl’s hostel I never miss to take a glance at the female fortress. The desire to know the unknown is strong. But in our quest for the darker side we often miss the fairer side of the fairer sex. Why care for the other side of the moon when the side facing us is still an enigma.

The most common thing on the campus is romance. Some day you meet her by chance. Few days after, she glances at you. Next she smiles at you. This is enough to convince you about her feelings and makes you eager to dash into the realms of friendship and hopefully love. By the time you are made to realize that those looks were ordinary and her smile was because of the fact that it cost her nothing, it’s too late. You sink in grief while she gains in attitude.

Next are some girls whose taste changes with season. During hill ‘ffair, the bhangra guy dances his way into her heart, kicking out the guy who had won her by that magnificent goal in the recently concluded football championship. But this dancing dude is unaware that as the exams will approach, the topper of the class will succeed in making her heart his library and her text messages, his study material.

But then we also have girls who are true friends. They love to laugh along with you; they trust your words and your actions. Your small efforts to bring smile on their faces are enough to make them feel important. They don’t expect costly gifts to remain friends. No matter how cacophonous you sing the purity of friendship adds melody to it. Their eyes gleam at your sight and this friendship gets stronger as semesters pass by.

THE TEACHING BEAUTY

2008-09-04T09:41:00.000-07:00

friends most of you would have guessed whom this write up refers to ...others can keep guessing ...:-)

Imagine is his catch word. While teaching he takes us to places as far off as kanyakumari and sometimes also like to roam in space. His teaching is not bound to his assigned subject, but traverses wide areas of engineering and science. At times we are in doubt if we are sitting in the right class.

When in class his exceptional body movements make things easier. He has his own unique style of teaching through dancing moves. He is fond of bhangra and this dominates his teaching style. He is kind to the board and chalk. He makes use of the power point presentation or if ever feels the need to write, prefers sms script.

He has got an innovative way of assigning home works. The assignments, usually group activities don’t have dead lines. These have shift lines, which keep on shifting from one date to another. Sometimes these encompass two semesters.
His generosity in awarding marks was well known until recently he decided to change his marking scheme causing much pain and grief to the students.

Students who have bagfuls of luck with them get to work on a project under him. This involves a trip to a near by sub (hill) station, free tea and coffee sessions during work and complete freedom to bunk work. The beauty lies in his augmentative traits which keep on pushing students to think for that extra mile which if they cover can make them famous however no one wants to walk those extra ‘Zarry’ miles.

Gossip Mongers

2008-07-22T10:04:00.000-07:00

It is difficult to trace the beginning of the phenomenon called gossiping .So far as my memory goes, I have been a witness to this from my early child hood .In fact I have learned the lessons in gossiping during childhood itself. Growing in a joint family, I used to listen to the banter of the women in the house and later when I learned the word chatterboxes it became easier for me to relate to them. In the evenings sitting with the vociferous men, I used to watch, how each one of them tried to express their shrewdness in their field of interest .Their discussion unlike our parliament always ended on a positive note. This was perhaps because no two persons ever spoke on the same topic, all had their own area of interest .In case of clash between interests, interests’ could be replaced but not members of the gossip club.

The beauty of the gossip club is that it is formed informally. There is no need to hold general houses to motivate people .Once people come to know of the existence of such group they would come flocking in groups. It induces instant interest amongst one and all. And once a member you would enjoy every moment of togetherness.

The effectiveness of gossips is indisputable. Discussions are meant to be confusing, but gossips lead to clarity in thoughts and increment in knowledge. Though this appears to be a leaderless group with no hierarchy, but such phenomenal success has to be attributed to some leader. This person is sole responsible for the establishment of this group. He begins the process by including people who are glib talkers. The hidden leader sees to it that the members care the least for their time. To this he may even remove all the watches from the venue. He knows how to drive out the positive fears which keep everyone of us on our toes. Such fear is instantaneous, and the leader knows this .So whenever he sees boredom setting in and members drifting to their rooms, he uses taunts, challenges and some times even physical force to keep them from moving out.

How ever the gossip club is a true entertainer. Here you can laugh your perils out which otherwise keep troubling us. We share each others joys and sorrows and this helps in curbing darkness from our live and bringing in light. Just join it as it promises to drive out our tensions and fills us with enthusiasm and life to face the life in its stride.

life in a metro

2008-07-22T09:56:00.000-07:00

We have a government but no governance

We have a system that has long stopped functioning

We have a police but no policing

A judiciary that delivers injustice

The thread can never end

We are living in an insensitive society where self outweighs all mass. The sphere of influence shrinks not in centimeters but inches. Insecurity is a common feeling amongst all human beings and the irony is that humans have laid the foundation to this stony wall which segregates human beings into rich poor, oppressed privileged, and haves and have-nots.

Few days ago, while commuting in a dtc bus, I experienced this insecurity. A fellow passenger was being roughened up by the conductor for whom indecency was his greatest asset. The abusive words need no mention and the situation was nearing physical abuse. But none of the passengers cared to interfere. In fact no one even looked at them, fearing they would get inflicted.

I was sitting by the side of the window and kept glaring outside acting aloof. The bus was packed with no space left to breathe; the passengers were forced to face the wrath of commuting. Even this didn’t stop the conductor from allowing more passengers to board the bus. With no space left to accommodate them the conductor called people to provide some leg space, to which one of the passengers denied and that led to the episode. The hero had to pay for his heroic instincts and we got awarded for our cowardice. I felt secure and safely seated in the bus as I saw the conductor pushing that roadie on to the road.

In a similar way, everyday people unaccountable face ruffians, and the onlookers (indifference arising out of fear) keep silent.

To all such onlookers I leave here, with this message,

“Next turn is yours”.

Class-ifying

2008-04-01T10:41:00.000-07:00

Individuality is distinct. So when we talk of 55 odd students we mean 55 individuals. Each unique, each different, yet together they are a class. Amidst this difference, exists, some similarity which cements strong association amongst students.

What are these similarities and can we classify them? Such things constantly ponder me and what follows is my humble response.

The group which attracts instant attention is, of the students who sit at the back. Usually this unit comprises of people with gelled hair, funky T-shirts, and drooping eyes deprived of sleep. They are eager to discuss, however their subjects of discussion are counter strike and other things but not books. They disturb all with their chit chat and when objected, they act innocent. They are the first to leave the class and last to come in. Their presence does not make any difference to the class but their absence does. They proudly call themselves as members of the back benchers’ society (mbbs).

Enough of the big brothers. Let’s now step down a few levels to the first row. Next group is of students who sit in the front row. These are the first to come in and last to leave. Their usual attire- heavy specs, bulky bags, thick copies -thicker books and to top it all a set of pens- green, black and of course blue. They keep their eyes fixed at the black board and are quickest in pointing mistakes of the teachers. Their hands rise frequently; sometime to answer and sometimes to enquire. They study, study and only study. Responsible for undue lengthening of the period, at times, they have to face the burnt of the proxy kings.

The third group likes to sit in between the front and the last rows. These people have one thing in common. Each of them has something to hide. Some hide novels, some sudoku sheets, some their empty refills, some empty notebooks. Some hide unfinished poems, some emotions, some their mobiles and some hide their shame. With heads held low and fear in mind they play this hide and seek game with the teacher. At times the teacher too sits in these rows to hide his limited knowledge.

The fourth group is unique as it is comprised by the students who do not form any group. They sit alone in the class and they have a world of their own. They will enter the class in time or late and if in good mood they might even bunk the class. Their limited interaction with others, limits the knowledge about them. They can be found roaming alone in the campus. They too sit in the middle rows and hide themselves and their loneliness.

It will be unfair to the fairer sex if they are not there in the list. Girls of nit hamirpur are not from Venus, they are from PGH. Girls elsewhere are known to be chatter boxes. But here they have opted to be silent bombs. They explode at times but never chat. Jealous is a term synonymous to the girls; however here they can be found cuddled together with their lot. Beauty is to girls as intelligence is to boys. This however is not true in this case. Here it is rare to find both.

hostel lyf

2008-01-20T08:40:00.000-08:00

Carefree life is a privilege which the workaholic will avoid even in the wildest of their dreams. But some long to have such kind of life, where they have got no assignments, no responsibilities and no one to question them. They get what they desire at the slightest effort. They have the latest facility available and life is completely cool. Then there are some who live life their way. It can be anything, music, sports, girls, food, studies, movies, computers, or even gossiping. If they are into it, nothing stops them from doing what they like. Any guesses, where do we get to see such diverse species?

Hostels! Obviously. These welcome us to an amalgamation of cultures. The activity as well as inactivity is worth observing. One gets to see here, an environment of opposites, Silence and din, rock and soft, drunkards and ascetics, cigarette and incense sticks, theists and atheists, optimists and pessimists. One can go on and on, endlessly describing the ambience of a hostel. Away from the plains and heat, in these hills we learn the lesson of life i.e. to adjust, accommodate, and adapt to the circumstances.

Facing the heart

2008-01-17T09:12:00.000-08:00

Face is the mirror of heart. But not many people listen to their heart. It is the mind which thinks and it is seldom right. When bonding of hearts clash with boundaries of mind it becomes difficult to take decisions.

Face is the mirror of heart and when body movements compliment the face, what should be the response of the two people involved …should they succumb to the morals of practical life or should they allow their soul to take charge, neglecting the prohibitive vibes emanating from the mind.

Face is the mirror of heart. It is reflective of how good one is at heart. Face gleams if heart feels happy, frowns when gloomy. The rosy cheeks tell that the heart is beating for someone. Fiery eyes signal hate. When there is a heart break, the face weeps. When the heart feels good, the face wears a smile.

Face is the mirror of heart, though sometimes, the differences arising out of the clash between the mind and the heart lead to deceptive looks. You try to laugh aloud but the still eyes say it all. It is human to fabricate a false laughter and humane to be what you are.

Face is the mirror of heart. The heart can pump life but can’t think. The mind can think but can’t pump life. Making a choice is difficult.

This is dedicated to someone who is liked by all and loved by one.

Don’t think, listen to your heart.

Adieu