Poetry, Or So I'd Like To Believe

The IIT Era - My last Year

2011-12-03T23:53:00.001+05:30

December 01, 2011

Ayear ago, I wouldn’t have thought that I’d be sitting in a cosy hotel room inBoulder, CO and writing this blog post. For that matter, I am not sure if I wasso certain of being able to move to the US either. But here I am, and I amcertainly not regretting my decision. The only question that bothers me sometimesis if I should have chosen Edinburgh over Ohio. Edinburgh has a better ranking,the programme is for one year duration and while remaining a DevelopmentStudies programme, its geographic focus is South Asia, unlike this place, wherethe traditional focus has been on the African continent.

It’s snowing outside and what apleasant sight it is. I came back a while ago from taking a walk towards theuniversity. It wasn’t supposed to be a walk - I had got in to a bus to get tothe Geography department, but the driver wanted exact change. I had to get downfrom the bus, and this is not India that I could have easily located a kirana store and got change. I came backto the hotel and got change from the receptionist, but I was too tired to getback to the bus stop. Also, since Prof. Ritzoweller promised to take me to thedepartment, I didn’t bother to go back. I did, of course, take several photographsof the snow-crowned region, giving the impression to the people here that I wasyet another curious Asian tourist! I, as always, didn’t care about what anyonethought. I am sure I will take more photographs during the next few days that Iam here.

I have been thinking of writing thisblog for a while but I did not have the time or the inclination to do it. Now,it appears, I do! There’s only so much one can write in a blog without boringone’s readers. So, in this blogpost, I’ll start from where I left last, and endit at the stage of the completion of my MA. A lot changed after the first yearat IIT Guwahati. I started off with building stronger relations with morefaculty members and lost many friends on the way. That does sound quitenegative but I wish I was a screenplay writer of Bollywood films so that I could write make-believe ‘positive’climaxes! Do I regret losing out on the strong relations I built with some ofthe faculty members? Except for one, I do not. The ones I lost on the way arehypocritical, bitter and evil. I have no idea how to be subtle about theircharacter description. All I can think is that I am glad I got rid of them frommy life and do hope that I never cross paths with them.

There is this one faculty memberwhom I deeply miss being on ‘normal’ relationship with. She was someone I couldrelate most closely to and we went out of our way to make each other feelcomforted in the isolation of IITG campus. I do believe that the kind ofrelationship we shared does not have a name in the ‘normal’ scheme of affairs.I should say the closest I can get to, is calling each other ‘close friends’but the more I think about the platonic relationship, the more I feel that thenomenclature does not do any justice. One of the lessons I have learnt from thebreaking of our relationship is that arguments, no matter how important to oursubscribed ideologies, should not be allowed to come in the way ofrelationships that we believe are important to us. I did try to salvage ourrelationship, when I reached the US, but it was too late. All I was able toconvey to her was that I was deeply apologetic for what happened between theboth of us and requested for things to get back to normalcy. But then, I guess,far too much water had already flown below the bridge.

In my second year, I also got tomeet a person I guess I am going to be befriended for life to. As expected ofme, he was from the BTech programme. We got to connect at various levels,especially, fitness! While I do not think that I am now anywhere close to beingcalled fit, those jogging sessions, evening walks in the campus, etc. helped meimmensely to beat the loneliness that I was facing back in the IITG campus.Life in Barak hostel was terrible, and I have written about it previously.There was just no one I could connect with, except for the Masters studentsfrom Design, but they were pretty much lost in their own cosy space. The onlyperson I could befriend in the hostel was someone from my cohort. In InternationalTrade, they suggest that trade happens between equals. While our relationshipwas no trade, I think I and my friend from my cohort were far from being‘equals’ in any respect. He was way superior in forming social networks amongfolks from our department, while I was not, and I think I was superior in someother respects. Therefore, while we continue to remain friends to this day, wewere unable to forge the sort of relationship I was able to make with my friendfrom BTech.

In my own batch, I ended up getting onto the wrong side of at least two of my friends, and the reason for this isthat I supported a faculty member in the stand she took against these guys.While I do think that the faculty member went too far in admonishing these twostudents, the students deserve no sympathy of any sort. I do regret acting likea complete jerk, when the incident happened – when I think I should have not‘got in the middle of things’, I think everyone here - the students, thefaculty and me were culprits of some sort or the other. What I mean, in thiscase, is that I do not regret having made more enemies in that batch!

A lot of other important eventsmarked my second year. During late 2010, my brother met with an accident, andthat was a testing time for the family. While I received immense support fromthose in my cohort, most of my faculty members and others, I think the eventdid shake me up quite a bit and reminded me that life is anything but certain.When I came back from home to the campus, I was told that a faculty member hadarranged for a test to be conducted for his paper during the week of myarrival. We all knew in the department that this person is a radical, left-wing‘intellectual’, openly supportive of Maoism in India. When I went to him with arequest to postpone the exam for a few days (which, he had the power to do), hesaid, ‘that’s not possible.’ He knew that I was just back from handling acrisis at home, but he pretty much shunted me out of his room with those threewords – no words of sympathy added to that! Oh, didn’t I mention previouslythat there are quite a few hypocritical faculty members I met in IITG?

Also, a new, first year batch camein to the department. That was rather uneventful for me because I found, withthe exception of a handful, most of them to be boring. All that happened withtheir entry was that my unique efforts in the department (starting moviescreening, initial work around placement, initiating student – facultymeetings, etc.) were shadowed by an impression created by some of the facultymembers, who despised me, that the first years, in fact, brought life to thedepartment. My reaction to this remains restrained. I have a long journey aheadof me and I am not going to work towards buying off acknowledgement for what Idid some time back in life. In any case, I know that as much as some of them maywant to erase my name off the ‘merit-list’, there are other folks there who aremore rational and will not let that happen.

On another note, I do think myinteraction with the BTechs only increased in my second year. My first yearwent in ‘establishing’ myself in the Institute, and that made me lessuntouchable for the BTechs. I have mentioned the BTech – Masters divide In IITsin my previous postings. My friend from BTech got me access to an informalgroup of BTech students, whose aim was anything between preparing for gradschool/placement group discussions to getting to understand the society andeconomy around, more closely. I loved those meetings. For a Masters studentthat I was at IITG, those were ‘oxygen breaks.’ I was able to use the relationsI built during these meetings to organise two ‘parties’ in the second year,where there was alcohol, music, dancing, and an amazing gathering ofinteresting people. If there is a God, I thank her for these! Also, mysystematic planning to get out of the country helped me get admission to morethan half of the places that I had applied to. I was clear that getting a goodPhD abroad was out of question with my qualifications, and I would have to workto get an MPhil in India, prior to applying for PhD positions in the US/theUK/Canada, and I was sure that I was losing my patience with studying in India.I realised, with the admission results that I can indeed achieve what I put myheart to!

I did end up graduating with tophonours, and it was not difficult in my batch. The only other person I wascompeting with had a great memory power. Unfortunately, none of her otherassets are worth a discussion. I do not think that I did great work for mythesis and in the context of the Indian education system, I certainly did notdeserve an A for it, nor did others who got As in my batch (AAs or ABs, forthat matter.) That is one of the reasons I have opted to take a thesis-track inmy second Masters to figure out what doing ‘real’ research is like. More onthis will come in the next posting. Finally, I must confess that it was a mixedending for my 2-year tenure at the Institute – I made some friends, made someand then lost them, came to love the food and culture of the northeast, andlearn – from books, from people and most of all, from experience!

In There

2011-02-22T23:47:00.000+05:30

This place is quite dark. There are no voices around. I want to silence the ones that are there. The ones that are not are most needed but even the dying echoes of the same are not to be heard. There’s just a desire to anchor oneself, away, far, far away in land that never was and never will be. This is my alternate plane. I know it won’t exist – it never did. What troubles me is that the world I have built of tender cards of care on this plane will come down any moment now, or may be it had already come down and I have chosen to transcend to another plane, where everything is alright, and there’s a mansion in the far away mountains, where we live.

Do I have to live each day like this, until I perish? Or should I work towards bringing the day closer? Will each day pass in listening to the Banshee singing far away?

Proposal (The Remains)

2010-06-23T06:10:00.002+05:30

What's a better choice, my adorable painter,
May I enter you and explore the abstract alone, and deeper?
Or should we go farther and let you have me felt,
The thoughts within, love for you, and a crystal drop wept?

The Proposal seemed to have been read, and rejected,
Or rejected, and not read - must I be dejected?
There will be a better time, a better place,
Until then, I must bury this love in the dark space.

Proposal

2010-06-06T11:59:00.000+05:30

Before you choose to severe the little connection,
Give me quarter a chance to convince you of the situation,
And of my worthiness of being a partner lovable,
One pleasing your sight, love perhaps and chats occasional.

What do we then discuss - I am your worth or not?
How farther should we go in this matter, thought?
Uncertain as I am, if you even come from planet same as mine
Or if you, at the very least, like poetry that attempts to rhyme.

We both appreciate those, with thoughts deep, if not deeper,
Yes, you talk little and I blabber but that couldn't be a dampner.
I can make amends and I shall help you open, I swear,
But let's start this, least, our little love would badly fare.

How would you react, if I said I love you?
Would it confirm your doubts and you'd cast me away too?
Alas, I fear I shall then bury this love deep within,
Deep in my heart, where I have just a few graves elegantly laid therein.

An Year at IIT Guwahati

2010-05-02T11:27:00.000+05:30

I wrote my last exam of the semester yesterday morning. It wasn’t great but it wasn’t as bad as another paper that I wrote last week. Since I also tend to think about a lot of things right during the examination preparation time, I realised that with the end of the second semester (results pending!), I actually finished with one academic year of education at IIT Guwahati and this is a good time to look back.

What was I doing during May last year? I think I had taken a couple of leaves for some farji reason and was preparing to write the JNU International Relations paper sometime around May 17, from what I remember. I wasn’t yet prepared then to join a university that has a strong leftist leaning because the left somewhat stifles me deep within. However, JNU was my only option because no other ‘reputed’ university had this course that I really wanted to read for, unless one includes Pondicherry University, but heck - who goes to Pondicherry to study!

The only reason I actually chose to write the IIT Guwahati DS exam was because I didn’t want to take any risk with my higher education plans. If I hadn’t moved out of Google then, I would never have been able to. It’s a nice, comfortable place and that’s the problem! Anyway, this blogpost isn’t about Google and my tenure there, so I’ll stick to IIT Guwahati. When I came to know in May sometime that I’ll be required to go to Guwahati to write the entrance exam, I was taken aback and a little uncertain. Unlike what my readers may be guessing, I wasn’t all that bothered about the situation of security here as much I was about the idea of travelling so far (Guwahati isn’t Bangalore!) and wasting so much money for it (about Rs.16,000?). Obviously, I had to fly in and out because I didn’t really want to use any more of my leaves.

When I came here for my exams, I had two problems that I identified with this place – first, this is way too less urban for my liking and second that at that time it was humid beyond survival. Having experienced the horrid weather of Calcutta, previously, during a vacation, I didn’t want to study in a place that was as humid or worse. In any case, I wrote my exams, came back, learnt that I was selected after a few days, quit my job (without having the need to tender the full notice period, thanks to my lovely manager, whom I had once thought to be a dimwit), and flew in to Guwahati.

Although, like the rest of the student community of IIT Guwahati, I got an independent room to stay, I didn’t quite like the people in my hostel as much. Very few of the boarders appeared to be from cities, given their accentuated Hindi and lack of promise of speaking comprehensible English anytime soon and I am not ashamed to confess that it made me uncomfortable. It was only later, during my various involvements in the activities of the Institute Literary Society did I realise that indeed the MTechs were mostly the black sheep of the IIT Community and there are strong reasons why. Not to forget, my own classmates! When I came for my document submission, on my first day as a student of this place, I was so disappointed to see my classmates. Not one person was from a city as big or, for that matter, bigger than mine and not more than one of them could speak ‘fluent’ English. Sometimes I think that I was being a little too demanding but that’s the line of argument that I haven’t yet reconciled with.

There were two sorts of people in my class, one from Assam and the other from Bihar, two states I didn’t have any particular fondness for. I only realised a little later in my various interactions with the students of Assam that there is far more truth to be searched in their simplicity than in the complex lives that we lead in large cities. I’ve come to be fond of the Assamese, since then!

Before I paint an absolutely dark picture of the Masters students of IIT to my audience, I must mention of my various interactions with the students of Design. I found them so much more pleasant. Are they the saving grace of the pride and honour of the Masters students of IIT Guwahati? I am not sure if I’m ready to give an affirmative nod to that as of now but certainly, I am a little inclined to! I’ll be taking a course with them next semester as an Audit and I am quite looking forward to be studying in that sort of a batch.

Next that comes to my mind is my own department – my programme, faculty and everything around that. Unlike what a lot of people think and although I carry the looks of, I was never a class topper. In school, I was always in the first three but it started slipping down as I moved to junior and Degree College. Here, though, I ended up topping my programme (at least until the mid-sem exams of the 2^nd sem.) It was about choosing the right course, I think. I was always made for the Social Sciences. Studying Math and Science imparted a sense of logical and sharp thinking but my mind was always inclined towards the Social Science and I am glad to report that I am happy to have picked up the pieces of my shattered pieces of dream that I had crashed right after my class 10^th by not having taken up a study of Social Sciences.

My programme is inter-disciplinary and covers a gamut of Social Science courses. It is as if the cosmos is playing a motherly role and giving me another opportunity understand all that I missed previously – Sociology, Economics, Philosophy and the like. My department has been debating lately if the MA programme has become multi-disciplinary instead of being inter-disciplinary but I think I am quite happy with the way things are. How else will I get to know about each of these areas of interest? As for the faculty, they are nice, in general. Some are left-leaning, which is sad but I was thinking the other day that if a few left-leaning faculty members can make me uncomfortable, how would I have survived in JNU? Well, as they say in Hindi, whatever happens does happen for the god – the reference being to my not making it to JNU. Also, I must remember to mention that the left-leaning faculty members in the department are actually one of the most well-read people I’ve met, who’ve also given me some of the highest marks, despite being fully aware of my political and economic leaning. Strange, but true!

What else did I do of significance here? I fought a hostel election! For a position perceived as trivial as the Literary Secretary, I did not expect any competition because I thought other competitors may not consider filing their nominations, being aware of my past experience of having worked with the Institute Literary Society and having been the face of this hostel in the various literary events conducted by the Institute LitSoc. However, on the contrary, this election did make me understand something that every student of Social Science knows and appreciates - Electioneering is the worst form of democracy but we have no other options!

Prior to the elections, the candidates and voters alike, split into Andhra versus non-Andhra lobbies and I was pulled into the Andhra one. While I was all glad that this was done because I lived in the state for 22 years, it was not to be! I was picked because I had a north Indian name and there was a perception of easy victory for me. It was assumed that creating a ‘panel’ of candidates with majority of positions given to Andhra candidates and minority to north Indians (me included), the panel would have a high chance of winning.

As luck would have been, a fellow-Andhrite who had nothing to do with this political bunch until now decided to stand up for the LitSec’s post. What was amazing was that this guy stood for the position because he had managed a library in his (undergraduate) college, located in some rural part of AP, for two years. He couldn’t speak a line of English or Hindi without making an error and had no idea how he would deal with the Institute Literary events but was sure of bringing in new magazines to the Hostel Library like ‘Wisdom’ and ‘Competition Success Review’! God forbid! I went door to door, meeting absolute strangers, chanting out my agenda and seeking their valuable votes. In any case, his hard work at campaigning and pleasing a rather dumb electorate with impractical, ridiculous promises resulted in his losing the election with a margin of about 35 votes, the narrowest amongst all positions that were fought for. Oh, did I mention that since he decided to stand for the position, I was ended up being absorbed by the North Indian lobby?

I understood that if you’re going on the discrimination path anyway, ethnicity will always beat everything. Not that the ‘North Indian panel’ didn’t use me – I wrote their manifestos and election debate speeches. In return, I got their help in as far as securing the votes of the non-South India electorate was concerned. What the end result? The entire North India panel won. Was it a victory of inclusiveness against regionalism? Our ‘panel’ didn’t have a single south Indian candidate but the managers of our panel would argue that this was the result of either not finding a ‘worthy’ south Indian or south Indians not willing to be a part of our panel. Do I trust this argument? I reserve my judgement for now.

In the aforementioned filth, do we see a reason why urbanisation and growth of cosmopolitanism is good? I do! Therefore, I agree that electioneering has barefaced flaws but one can’t do away with it as well. The flaw is located more with the electorate. Also, an aware and educated electorate is also no guarantee for their promise of unbiased voting.

In Guwahati, I’ve discovered greenery beyond my imagination, people beyond known simplicity, academics to fulfil my need for education and time to discover myself. What do I plan to do now? I have a plan to finish reading at least 50 books before the year ends and I know that is a tricky task to achieve but I plan to challenge myself around this. I need to be applying to various universities so that somehow at least one of them picks me up, work to ensure my class gets placed somewhere, mentor juniors from the hostel, if I find anyone interested, to do well in the Institute literary activities, finish my project and paper writing and so on.

I am not sure how well I’ll do in the coming year but I know I would have learnt so much more, actually quite a bit than more!

A death and my discovery

2009-12-24T23:52:00.000+05:30

This blogpost has been conceptualising in my mind for quite some time but now it’s finally ready to be typed. Exactly a month now since I lost the third of my grandparents - my maternal grandfather, leaving my maternal grandmother alone as my surviving grandparent. I was at the Calcutta airport, when I heard this news from my aunt. I had finished with my security formalities and was almost ready to board the bus that would take me to the aircraft to Hyderabad. I was quite excited to be leaving Calcutta to reach my hometown for I had scheduled myself to meet my brother and so many of my friends. My parents were slated to arrive later in December (they have already arrived) and I was looking forward to spending quality family time. When the news of my grandfather’s death arrived, first to my parents and then to me, it threw every plan asunder.

I called up my father and checked with him, if he was already aware of the news and he indeed was, for he was at the Salt Lake inter-state bus terminus in Calcutta, trying to get a bus ticket to my grandparents’ place. Luckily for my parents, they could instead secure the Shatabdi train tickets for early next morning, which is a rather comfortable journey to make, given the reassure of an AC bogey to cover 300 KMs. But why discuss about comfort, when the heart is crying aloud and mind is far from defined thinking. My mother was shattered to say the least. From what I heard from my aunt, she cried hoarse and lost the slight bit of control that she had on herself, when she saw her father lying on the floor in his ultimate sleep. Apparently, my grandmother was consulted and it was decided that her husband would be cremated in his ancestral village, on the ghats of the Ganges. My mother decided to go along with her siblings to the village, a decision she later somewhat regretted.

I can only completely value my mother’s presence of mind in having taken the decision to send my father back to Calcutta that very evening. In a couple of days, the annual meeting (this time, platinum jubilee) of the prestigious Indian National Science Academy (INSA, Delhi) was to begin and my father, apart from being a fellow of the academy, was a member of its local organising committee. She amazes me in the fact that she in worst circumstance often shows the ability to make sound judgements. She and I have together seen such a horrible time in late 2000, when my father was critically ill and she made certain decisions that do indeed require a woman to be strong to make.

My blogpost is actually not so much about my parents as it is about the larger issue of death and life. The death of my grandfather was the first death of a near-relative that I witnessed. My paternal grandmother had passed away, when my father was an infant and her husband did, when I was way too young to understand death and life so much. Why didn’t I then return back from the airport? My reasons are that my father advised me not too because he, as usual, told me that he had the situation in control, that my luggage was already in transit to the flight and that the ticket was purchased out of my father’s LTC quota and cancelling them was not a great idea, given the possible loss. However, I think the reason is more that I, again, did not actually feel the magnitude of the loss. My grandfather spent a maximum of an hour of his time with me in the twenty four years of my life, lived more than 2000 KMs from my home and never visited my home – it was often we, who visited his house, and lastly, he was way too old, always, for me to strike any conversation with. The conclusion being, his death did not exactly move me as much as it shook my mother, probably not even a fraction of it. I was saddened, of course.

However, the theoretical closeness of our relationship made me ponder a little on an area of life that I am still scared of venturing into - death. I assume there is no afterlife and re-birth. Science disproves afterlife and re-birth and as of now that suffices for me to believe that both are fictional. In this scenario, we just have one life to talk of. One life to do everything we ever wanted to - visit every possible place on the planet, meet people, find true love, a job, make people happy and be happy, change jobs, get a heartache and go on again in search of another true love. Phew! Oh, and by the way, amidst all this, finish a decent level of education too.

My grandfather died without having travelled outside of his country, having visited hardly any province other than the one he was living in, with a mediocre job up his sleeve but having made quite a few people happy. I think he died a happy man, which makes me feel content in a way. Maybe I am too greedy – I want much more out of life but that’s what makes me happy. I’d love to travel extensively, be around people, see mountains, witness snowfall, get a truly international education, a satisfying and well-paying job, raise adopted children and give them a life they’d otherwise not have got, and of course, try finding true love somewhere. Will I be able to do all this or will I die an unsatisfied man? Will I live to be a hundred years old or will I die early? Will I be able to make people happy and be happy myself or will I die unnoticed? I have taken an oath to discover myself, to live life the way I deem fit, those who like me will continue to like me and those who anyway didn’t, will find faults. But I know I’ll be cheerful and I can keep my family and friends happy only when I’m.

Ah, I think I’ve already begun the journey of my life!

On Diwali

2009-10-18T06:15:00.000+05:30

How shall I write a poem on a matter so trivial,

Of longing for home, family treasured and city adorable?

Do realise the bard novice has nowhere to vent for real,

Just these words that rhyme, is all he’s is of capable.

I miss you precious parents and brother elder,

Our revelry together, chats aplenty and bon homie.

I miss you on this day of lights and crackling thunder,

Of shared sweets, firecrackers, and making merry.

A city so cherished, I realised not before I left,

The place of my childhood, of countless joys and few tears.

A true cosmopolitan with cultures many that we accept,

Of acknowledged faces and places that’ll forever be so dear.

Should I cry? I am grown up after all,

Ah, Diwali for me is now to keep looking back in time.

To smile, cheer, lament and drop that tear invisibly small,

And make attempt to suggest it all, in dreary poem of attempted rhyme.

Travel

2009-08-30T12:07:00.096+05:30

I didn't ever expect that I'll be opening this blog for public scrutiny. Not that I write pornographic stuff here but then it was always my very personal diary. Never mind, let me go ahead and seek public opinion on my work. The contest for which this blog post has been written has actually come as a boon, for I haven't touched the blog since April this year. Also, I was given four options to choose from and without too much of a trouble I chose 'Travel.' As a former employee of a global Internet giant, I had the money (little, not much) to travel and my heart almost always sided with my mind in choosing the places I wanted to travel to.

However, would I be justified in just stating the physical locations I've travelled to? What about my mental journey - something I undertake almost every day? I think dwelling into that would be too much of an effort and would need couple of blog posts to finish. The mind is deep, sometimes dark and often scary a place to venture into. The weird part of the argument is that it is also the closest to us. I think the problem is that the mind is what we are and we run fast and far away from our real selves all the time. Hence, the scare.

Let me make an effort not to digress in this blog post atleast. I've done enough of digression in the others. I think some of my most memorable trips were (1) with my parents during Summer 2003 to Himachal (2) My trip to Bombay during winter 2007 and (3) the one to Delhi during Winter 2008. I plan to make a trip to Shillong with another college-time friend from Hyderabad very soon and then will be travelling to Vizag with a friend from my previous company during winter this year and I am sure they will make it to my list of memorable trips. It isn't that I didn't travel before 2003, it's just that they don't exactly, comparably fit into the realm of being 'memorable', per se.

The trip to Himachal was special as was the year. I had completed my class 12th from the junior college of my dreams but a nightmare of a result. I had failed in Chemistry. Miserable, truly. I was devastated. I told my parents that I had written the paper well and that I did not trust these results. My disciplinarian parents were completely on my side and my father, on my behalf went ahead and filed a request for revaluation. I was too ashamed to do it, you see. I was a coward. Anyway, getting to the point, the revaluation lead to me being given the pass mark and in between this commotion, my father decided that we should go ahead with our plans of visiting Himachal and not drop it. The trip might just uplift my mood. Well, this perhaps explains the sense of deep, deep love that I share for my father that I've written about below. So, after filing the request we flew off to Delhi and then took a cab to Shimla.

The cab first took us to Chandigarh. Colours, colours, more colours and more energy - that is Chandigarh. Colour in landscape, in the way people talk and exchange energy, in their food, in their clothes and everywhere else. I love the western part of the country, despite their debatable harsh speech, for this quality. The journey then took us to Shimla, Kufri, Kullu, and then back to Chandigarh. Amongst these, what impressed me most was Kufri. Absolute tranquillity- ranges and ranges of beautiful, white mountains and serenity all around - I believe Kufri is a place one must always keep up on their map of 'Places to visit before we die.' We then travelled our way back through Haryana to Delhi. The tall trees in Himachal that touch the skies, the simple people, the cosmopolitan crowd of Chandigarh, the Rock Garden, the harsh Hindi of Haryana and the energy that flows with it, the beauty of it all and most of all, the bond I developed with my parents - I can simply never forget these for they're etched in my heart and mind.

The trip to Bombay began and ended on a disastrous note but I still remember it for the exposure it gave me to a world of dreams. I was supposed to visit an ex-senior (who had invited me to her home) from the company I was working for. She was then living with her parents in oh-so-posh South Bombay in the Navy quarters. She was all excited when I told her about my plans to visit her but she didn't even lift her phone on the day before I was supposed to take off from Hyderabad for Bombay. I was nervous. I had to really convince my parents (particularly my mother) for this trip and here I was a fool in the middle of nowhere, where the person who invited me disappeared into thin air. Anyway, she did call me back on the eve of my travel date and told me that I could not stay with her family as her relatives were visiting her. I had no clue, where I would find a 'cheap' accommodation in the most posh locality of India. She offered to 'share' my hotel charges but that would't have helped because it would have still meant spending atleast Rs.2000-3000/day for 3 days. While I was still pondering on the pros and cons of the travel, I sought help from a junior in my team at work, who was from Bombay. She was rumoured to be made of bagful of ego and unapproachability. At the juncture that I was, I cared little because it was a question of 'prestige' before the parents! She hunted around and told me that the YMCA Hostel Colaba would be a good option. She gave me the necessary contact details and also details on how I could reach this place. I am now one of the best friends of this girl - not so much because we share an equal ego but more so because she and I, weirdly, understand each other really well. I went to Coimbatore for her marriage too and enjoyed every bit of her happiness. God bless her - okay, here I take the digression track again. Back to Bombay!

Well, the Bombay girl came to pick me up from the airport and dropped me at the YMCA hostel. It was two days after Christmas and I thought I had reached a beautiful European city - beautifully decorated buildings, magical lights glittering around Victorian-style garden and buildings and the coolness of weather. I was in love, deep love with this part of the country. The hostel was far more cleaner than expected and the next morning, I ventured out all by myself (the girl passed on the message that she'd be free by late afternoon.) I went around the Colaba-Fort area taking snaps of old, Victorian era buildings following it up with a visit to the Jahangir Art Gallery, Kalaghoda Art District (art being made and sold on street), the Prince of Wales Museum and the National Gallery of Modern Art. This was followed up with a visit to the best possible jazz bar in the country in the night 'Not Just Jazz by the Bay.' This was my first formal introduction to Jazz and I adored the music and the place. Not surprisingly, I continue to be a passionate follower of Jazz to this day! The girl and I walked around South Bombay later in the cold night, amidst trees showered with lights, beautiful Christmas trees around, Christmas stars adoring lavish, beautiful homes and it all seemed like a dream, rather a fascination coming true. The next two days went by in my travelling alone (mostly) and with her (rarely) to the most elegantly decorated churches of south Bombay, Elephanta Caves, Gateway of India and to do some shopping in south Bombay.

On the third day, I was supposed to catch the early morning flight to Hyderabad, which meant waking up at 4. I didn't. I woke up at 6 realising that I had 30 minutes to catch the flight. I rushed through but missed the flight. I was very, very disappointed with myself, although I quickly went to the Indian Airlines outlet at the Bombay airport, where they were willing to give me a ticket to the next flight (which was not too late in the morning) to Hyderabad. Thus ended my exciting trip to the city of dreams and on the whole, I don't really mind the accidents that tarnished the trip. I still talk to the Bombay girl, rarely though!

The last entry in my long blogpost would be my short description of my trip to Delhi during winter 2008. Delhi - well, I've written about Chandigarh previously - add a 'tadka' of rich history and architecture to it and you have Delhi! I love the ruins of this place. It's almost as if one would decide to take an evening stroll in the city and just land into a ruin, a piece of history that screams out at you and you want to hear every word of it and not leave anything out. I went to Delhi along with the parents to see the city and decidedly, its ruins. I decided to use the hospitality accorded to my father, as the fellow of a national science academy and to his spouse (my mother, of course) by the host institute (IIT Delhi) during the annual meeting of the Academy to go around with the family members of the delegates around in the IIT bus and absorb the city in. I did all of that. Dilli haat, India gate, Qutub complex and so on.

What made the trip memorable apart from Delhi itself was the fact that I met this young boy during the trip, with whom I argued my heart out every few minutes. He'd just not get convinced on anything, from history to Harry Potter. Talk about the students of Delhi's 'elite' colleges! However, the more I argued, the more I saw myself forging a bond with him. I don't have a younger brother and I increasingly saw him take that sacrosanct place. I went with him to his university and the youth, passion and culture of the place was, to say the least, breathtaking. This trip turned out to be a relationship-forming one for me. Needless to say, the younger brother is still around and I counsel him right from issues around girlfriends (although he already has more than I ever did) to random everyday parent/brother-talk.

Three trips, three outcomes and three impressions on the mind. I am glad I got to travel so much. I wish I continue with this pursuit and I think since my heart and my mind have synchronised on this matter, I will.

Bon Voyage!

April Ramblings

2009-04-29T11:57:00.002+05:30

Another blog post being written while travelling (to work, in the cab) but am glad that at least I am writing it. Quite a few things to write about/on – where do I start?

Following the pattern of obscurity, here’s a dedication to whom I’d like to call ‘The Man’. Well, to get it straight, he will no longer manage me (that sounds so gay but who cares – it’s supposed to be me and my blog and if you’re another person coming between the both of us, your problem!)

I didn’t ever suck up to him, I’ve written harsh emails and have spoken rudely to him, some times. I am happy I could do all of that because, well, he is an all-absorbing/pretending to absorb ocean. I keep hearing of ‘mentorship skills’ a lot at this place and I think that is being really harsh on the language. Seriously, such mentors? The Man is a mentor. No more cribbing, no more crying – he has to move on and so he did and we have now, the interstitial.

I find her hilarious. Seriously hilarious. Lizard, oily looks. Duck voice, a mind smaller than that of a rat. Ha- look where I’ve fallen! The only good side of the tragedy is at least I didn’t get to report to Policy Kali Mata – she would have screwed and chewed up my life and I would have become a slave. I thank my stars and my incompetence. Work, how much so ever overbearing, is not worth so much attention, actually. As you (who?) can see, I’ve written about the people more than work and I think people (even Kali Mata) are far more interesting issues to write on than work.

I went to that mad, humid place called Calcutta recently and then to Bokaro (what a relief!). Nothing much to write on that except that I saw children in IIM campus (or was it working professionals? Same thing) I could get to talk a lot to Burka Sporty, Long Hair Dog and several other Tams. Tams being tams, hung together. Neglect. Found conversations with Burka and Doggy really interesting – seems I missed on quite some interesting people, when I was new to the team. They left the team quite early. Now it’s a bunch of morons around. Whatever!

Hoping for parents to come back tomorrow so that I can start coming back early and start studying for that goddamn exam that I am so sure not to cross. If I do, charities are sure to benefit. OK, that was enough bribing to god (?). Shall write the next entry soon. Hang on!

Ramblings For Relief

2009-03-03T21:07:00.000+05:30

I think this entry has been long pending. Now that I write this entry, I am already feeling good. The other reasons could be that I just had a long, nice, useless conversation with my mother, which always proves a mood lifter. Another reason could also be that I am listening to the songs of DevD, while I write. I loved the movie and its songs and I know I am saying this to myself a zillionth time, never mind. So the deal is I am at it again. Mad solitude (a pleasant alternative to loneliness), unstable mind (leading to avoidable fiefs), tiredness (weight-gain), and so many other things – I am writing this note as if my blog is my diary. Frankly, it is. Who reads it anyway?

I don’t think this has even remotely got to do with work. I hardly take it so seriously to even be perturbed by it. I don’t know, why my manager spends so much time counselling and explaining things to me, while I just sit awestruck by his knowledge and patience. Now there’s an interstitial in between us that I am not particularly excited about, which makes work even more boring. Not that it’s the fault of the interstitial- poor lady, it’s just that no one in the organisation can be of any comparison to him, anyway.

Now that I’ve diverted enough, I’ll get back. Whom should I speak to? The one experiment I did turned sour. I don’t know why, seriously I don’t. I will just forget the soul like the existence was anyway not recorded. The Delhi baby is in love! Cute child - let life be enjoyed. We spoke for five minutes yesterday and then the partner became naggy to drag my child away. I still have the one sentence etched in my head that gives me peace, ‘You’re more important than her. Tell me, what’s up’. This must have been fake but I don’t care. I felt good. Given I am going through such a phase of blank, dark loneliness, things get even more difficult so any niceness shown is welcome, especially by the ones I adore.

The Kali Mata came to my desk today to counsel me to be more civil with the poor girl I fought with yesterday. ‘Whatever’, is what I again thought to myself! That said, my dependence on her can not be ignored, given that if I don’t have this role with me, my work will kill be from the front and I’ll be standing and watching my daylight murder. Bitch, the one who complained and the Mata also – never mind. Since my life is already so complex, the bitches don’t matter.

I am already feeling very relieved. God (if he exists) bless my mind for giving me writing skills. Oh, By the way, talking of the bitches, I spoke to the Gurgaon hotness. It’s always a pleasure to talk to her. Not everyone in that godforsaken team is a bitch and a dog! I need to tell myself to study harder. If I make it to JNU - that will be the best thing that could ever have happen to me. If I don’t, I think something better is stored somewhere.

London is far, far away and given that I didn’t get any call, when the Oil Driller was here is an indication that while I did everything for the bastard, I was stabbed. I do the same for so many people and I am stabbed or the back is simply turned towards me. The name has been long deleted from my mental list but hope is written down on rock and hence takes a longer time to get cleared. (Crib, crib)

London duplicate responds to calls as if the need to talk is mine, which it is. So, the name will soon be deleted, today, perhaps.

I think I am done. I’ll write again if I am down and out. If you’re reading this, forget what you read. You aren’t supposed to.

October Love

2008-12-19T10:52:00.002+05:30

The end of October, the onslaught of winter,

The coldness of Delhi, the season of slumber.

And there I was, amongst the intellects,

Till I spotted you, At peace - so relaxed, so relieved.

Our shaking of hands, the talk,

Your Delhi tone, the fake attempt at sounding American.

Endearing they were all and I fell in love, in love again,

Again, after it all - Again, despite it all.

Strange is the talk of love, strange is the aftermath,

Can I also wish for something, dear life?

If the both could get together, together for some more time,

Difficult though it is, impossible could be the prospect perhaps.

What if I wish for journeys beyond love?

For eternal peace of mine, of my mind.

I am strong, I know that. I've faced them all,

Then why do I need someone, sometimes, somewhere.

God, give me peace, at least a hint of it, please.

I Hate Silence

2008-11-10T14:54:00.002+05:30

Well, another offline blog post. No, I am not travelling this time. I am sitting on my chair, in front of my laptop, in my room, typing away to glory, while some stupid guests of my parents decided to visit us. Ah well- it’s a Sunday evening. My parents are being the nice hospitable hosts downstairs.

So much has been happening in life and sometimes it appears nothing is moving. The girl politely rejected the offer and we’ve decided to be friends. Well, I am not perturbed. It is a difficult job to snatch a girl from a commitment, especially, when you’re not willing to risk the chance of losing her friendship. Anyway, that chapter is closed and I am not going to proactively look at it any longer. I cherish my friendship with the girl in question and I can not and will not do anything stupid so as to lose her pal ship.

Talking of pal ship brings me to another phase that I went through last week. I think it was three or four evenings back. I went through the lowest phase- the usual, extreme loneliness syndrome that I dread so much. I came out of my aerobics class in the evening, cleaned myself of the sweat and went back to my desk. I think it was lurking around for a long time behind my mind, hidden somewhere. Soon as I reached my desk, it gripped me with both the hands. The hold was way too tight this time. I did try every bit to get out of it but it didn’t leave me. Diseases find the best victims in dirt- my mind couldn’t have been a better place- with all the darkness and seclusion. I went to the room ‘Friends’. I wonder why they named it ‘Friends’, when I have seen so many (me included on multiple occasions) go inside the room all alone to get the mask out of our faces and be unaided with our real selves. I called the telephone number and a reply came- to call again after 10 minutes. I called again and we spoke- not for more than five minutes but we spoke and I was less of a hazard for myself and for anyone else after the talk. The tears came and the tears went. The search will continue though because it certainly hasn’t ended here. We might meet again in January- I am not sure, if I will go through the same emotional tumult then. I still remember the way I escaped from the Delhi airport- teary eyed and all. What a loser!

I need to get less emotional, about people and about situations. How will I do that? I am not sure as yet. Will I ever be sure? I am not sure, again.

Will She, Will She Not

2008-10-23T12:21:00.001+05:30

This was written, while I was travelling back home. Boring that the journey is, I thought it might help, if I could atleast write things that I can post on my long forgotten blog. So I am on the relationship analysis spree. I am done with the one between my father and me. Now between me and the girl I so want to tell that I love her.

What do you do, if you just come out of a commitment, half mentally injured and half uncertain about everything that concerns relationships. And you fall in love with this girl who is a good friend of your ex-girlfriend? Funny- the life is!

Not for me, I suppose. Given that the girl you want to make a part of your life already had a boyfriend! I end up making everything confusing and complex. My life, most of it, I guess. In this case, it isn’t that the boyfriend is a hefty, ‘I’ll-beat-your-soul-outta-your-life-if-you-look-at-my-girlfriend’ kind of guy. Still, I would never like to lose the girl, in question. She is atleast a very good friend for now. I recently tried SMS-ing her to check, if she and the boyfriend are still surviving the long distance relationship (she is studying for her Masters course out of Hyderabad). Unfortunately for me, they are.

Nothing works sometimes. Strangely for a boy of my age, I don’t fall in love with every second girl. I liked this one girl and it happens that even she is committed. And I have this strong chance of losing her, if I confess my love to her. Should I confess or should I not?

Gosh. She is back to Hyderabad to her parents place this Diwali and I will make another attempt. Will again flirt around safely and be her best buddy. Laugh like crazy with her and listen to her non-stop chatter and bitching. God! As I type this out, I can realize how much I love her and miss her.

I am supposed to be feeling lucky (for those who didn’t get it, well, I work for Google). Can I actually get lucky this time? Time (or she) will tell!

Daddy And Me

2008-06-21T19:43:00.000+05:30

I don't think that I want to write poetry as of now, No thoughts to write. The reader might notice that I write poetry only when I am in extreme sorrow. No sorrow, no poetry. But I wanted to write something and don't want to complicate my life by creating another blog for my writings.

I think in this posting, I'd like to analyse a relationship close to me. Most people would have referred to any such situation in the usual third and fourth party terms like I have a friend and he has a problem, while on most counts one is referring to oneself and readers are not so dumb not to crack that out!

So, it's about me and my father. I think he is one of the most patient and indulgent fathers' that I have seen around. Perhaps he doesn't fall in the category of the 'cool dads', where I could discuss things like sex and relationship with him but he is quite broad minded as such. I think our relationship is deeper. I think I love him more than anyone would love their fathers'. I think he is like a son to me- I am as possessive as I would be of my son and I care for him that much or more. I really don't mind, if I don't ever have a son. I just need daddy around always.

Sometimes, I try and think of our relationship and the visible depth. Thankfully, this does not impact the relationship of mamma and daddy or me and mamma. She knows that he is more than a father for me. He is my child, my life. We weren't this close before 2000. When he was hospitalised, I realised his importance and I wonder what took me over that I virtually started treating him like a new born child. Indeed, his operation did give him a new life and I actually started treating him like a baby. Not that I regret it.

Anyway, now that my parents are off to Calcutta, I am wondering how am I going to live without him- the love of my life! Phew- bad thought- let it go away. October is still far away. I think that the distance is necessary- it will make the relationship more in line with how it is for my peers and their fathers. But the question is- do I want it to be that way? No, obviously. But I think it is necessary. The affection and love is not going to go away. Oh god- can he please live forever?

Memories of Love

2008-05-02T08:38:00.000+05:30

There are two memories that I can not part from,

Two memories of love, to be precise,

One of teenage love, of wild thoughts,

Another of a chance, matured meeting

So long, since I met you, long, long ago- June 2004,

Realities and dreams of late night walk, of holding hands, of the reassuring hug, of chats and one-odd dance,

And then a reality of parting and uncovering of truth until I said adios,

With Bitterness perhaps, tearfully, I would say

Then you appeared, I mean your look-alike- May 2007- a full three years later,

You sent that shiver down my spine- As I forgot the luncheon party and all I could see was you,

Of meetings then, and fights in plenty,

Ah! The reality strikes again, we are never to be together after all.

Two selfish people, two users of my soul,

I’d still love them dearly and always,

Strange love, I’d say, Stupid, you may call,

To think of it, was love ever straight?

state of mind

2007-07-14T17:59:00.000+05:30

I want to drink that bottle of nectar, the whole thing
Do not wish to leave a drop for anyone else.
I know of no other way to come out of this vicious ring,
Not when hatred, rage, jealousy, deep within dwells.

I want to suffer a greater pain- something deep,
Very fierce and unbearable to take over the pain of separation- something that will slowly seep.
To hurt me slow but be there constantly pinching hard
And help me come over the pain that you gave or are giving- pain to a loving bard?

How Am I living Through This?

2007-06-28T22:01:00.000+05:30

I wonder if there is a God, but there should be one,
How else am I living through this and having so much fun?
Or is this smile all fake and nothing short of a lie?
And perhaps I feel the truth pinching hard and life going awry.

So it all begins with who am I and which way I’m going,
Unsure, Uncertain- Stray or Great, I’ll know (perhaps) with the time moving.
But why not now, Can I shout and scream and say it all?
And confess my true self to the world in one full hall?

And I wonder about both of us too, my cute dream lover,
No longer cute- Not when you let those two tears drop off my eyes- No longer dear.
Or Am I again dragging myself from the great mirror?
Without you, I’m after all this ugly rainbow without colours.

And then are those two important people in my life.
One a father, over worked, and then a Mother- honest but rife,
Do I love you, yes I do. Do you love me, Yes, I’m sure,
Then why minors like truth and lies become vital amongst us matures?

So I’m living my life, am still alive,
God give me strength for some more time- I want to hold on to this journey called life.

For You my Friend Anon

2007-06-24T07:24:00.000+05:30

A poem on you is not a good idea, you suspect,
So why not wicked I enjoy your embarrassment in retrospect?
Something for you to read and think about,
and some more to feel good, from this poet stout.

So listen, for once to this declaration
of liking, respect, love-affection, and unquestioned adoration.
Who are you- a friend, compatriot, brother or mentor?
Or an un-named relationship that we are to foster?

Think not-- just move ahead, there is too much of love to take,
And way too many experiences of darkness to share- fiery and dark baked.
Or just be that angel, who walked into my life for good
and was there when most needed and liked me- a poet rude.

What if we loved some others- most honest and more?
For me, you are indeed special and so is our time together.
So please be with me, this 30- year old kid like a lifebuoy, I adore,
And as we move ahead, hope our time together moves slow as floating feather.

Who am I?

2007-06-17T17:23:00.000+05:30

Well, I am Pronoy, live in India, work for online ad sales and operations and love adventure tourism and poetry. Feel free to get in touch with me on pronoy.rai@gmail.com

O Horrible Summer!

2007-06-17T07:15:00.000+05:30

In strange ways does the nature act,
To give pain post-pleasure is its awful tact!
Why do we have a season called summer, why do we have to sweat,
Are questions, I need to be answered as yet.

A season of mangoes and holidays in plenty,
And of heat in the head and ailments more than twenty.
A season to play till you get tanned to the feet,
And to hear of a thousand deaths from this merciless heat.

When will the greenery in my garden be preserved,
When will I sleep with the comfort that I deserve?
O heavens, give us some relief, shower some rain,
Or at least give me the patience to tolerate this pain.

Each day of the monsoon, or spring and the season cold,
Needs to be lived to the fullest with glorious joy to behold.
Because when March returns with its initial warmth,
Be prepared for four months of horrible heat that can only harm!

Pronoy Rai
April 11, 2007

on Yash's birthday

2007-06-17T07:12:00.000+05:30

Life is about experiences-joyful and sorrow,
So I need a friend to smile and cry with-today and tomorrow.
I wish to thank you for this and that,
But don't beat me for this silly poem with bricks and bat!

You took me out of a nut-shell self-imposed
and felt no insult for my taunts so bitter,
You took my side when everyone else me opposed
and helped me tackle some people lovable as litter!

If kindness and helpfulness were a treasure,
You would be a king Midas for good measure.
Why everytime do I like to talk to you for hours together?
Why can't I find an adorable friend another?

May god bless you with peace and joy till eternity
to make others' lives as happy as it could be.
And thank you for bringing me and life so near,
I hope our friendship remains like this-merry and happy forever!

Written for Yashwanth on his 22nd birthday

for two lovers

2007-06-17T07:11:00.000+05:30

Priya and Rakesh are two angels adorable,
Together, they seem a couple very lovable.
Tiffs and distances are matters so negligible
when the pure love in-between, is so apparent and visible.

Priya, such a sweetheart, is most beautiful and cute.
She can spread her care to people, compassionate or rude.
Be it bonded birds or aging animals, or a hapless girl savaged by an uncle brute,
She’d fight for them by means, most honest not crude.

Rakesh, dear friend, is a guy so soft-spoken,
His care for the world is real and not token.
He works so hard to clean and mend our milieu so dirty and broken,
He strives his best to bring learning to kids downtrodden.

Priya and Rakesh, so complement each other,
What is one without the impression of the other?
Bless you to live a joyous and exciting life together,
But in all this love, both of you, don’t forget this solitary bard not too cleaver!

…Written for Priya and Rakesh

Set Me Free

2007-06-17T07:10:00.000+05:30

Which is my bigger problem-To love, to tell you, or to let you tell it to all?
I know not what or who you are but the love is there, I’d so wish to confess in a full hall,
But what is in you that I love after all?
Is it that similar face or a deeper bond, I might know never at all.

Work, your thoughts interrupt- Oh please, speak up! Don’t stare at me like that,
Look not around-there is little to be ashamed, we’re lucky to find true love.
Are you sure to that you love me? That you won’t ridicule me amongst your pals?
Or will this broken heart again be crushed-Would you care a bit?

Then the issue of stray or great!
Does it matter to you, or the love that we may blossom in?
Will that stray love you more than I ever could?
Don’t you see it all apparent in my eyes and words all?

Talk to me

2007-06-17T07:08:00.000+05:30

What did I do this time?
Did I scream or throw you away?
Or did I pour down on your head that precious bottle of wine?
What did I do that you treat me like stray?

Sure, I’d never treat you like precious- I don’t want to.
Sure, I’ll scream at you, for I have no one else to pour on.
But, why not for once, feel the pinching loneliness around here?
Or at love hidden deep amidst, when I treat you like anon?

So, if you’d say that you’re busy or bored,
Or just for once, not care to ring me up,
Listen to this first confession of my love so pure.
And I might not repeat it- that’s how I am in the way of stray or great.

I love you and care for you.
Not a day passed when I didn’t think of you, or await that odd call or your rare message- very short.
But, when eyes could say it all, why are mine so silent?
Or do you hear something in this pandemonium around- just a word, probably?
I love you more than anybody would ever do,
So, why not talk to this foolish, sad lover once again… just because he loves you?