March 25, 2012

Realisation at the age of 25

When I first arrived, this is what I thought. Six months into it, this is what I think:

1. At 25 you may not have a well defined career.

2. You can obsess about facebook or go off it for as long as you like, but when you return, at least 25 people at 25 would have/would have planned to get married. The fast ones will even give you baby pictures.

3.You can't do all nighters any more and go for class/office at 8 in the morning. You don't party late on weekdays now. Or you just bunk. Shamelessly.

4. You know where your grey hair is. And you're not plucking it out.

5. You slowly get over the initial paranoia of quarter life crises. (did you do the math?)

6. People around you start dying of cancer.

7. People around you start dying of old age. (Do the math again) And for the first time, you notice your parents growing old.

Good luck guys

March 24, 2012

Bhartiya Rail Suvidha

Elements you find on the train. Planted in every compartment. Almost like a conspiracy. You'll find them no matter which class or train you travel by. No matter which city you go to. These are, as follows:

1. The Child: It screams, it whines, it eats, it shits (it gets escorted to the loo by poor old mother). It asks. It cries and cries and cries. Loud. louder, loudest! It tries to create a ruckus around the train. Parents think co passengers find IT cute. And you sit fuming in your berth. Its not your fault. You're just lucky to get stuck with a child every single time. It finds its way to you.

2. The Aunty: Mostly found reading her Sarita or Grah Shobha, she carries a big plastic bag full of food. If found to be Sindhi or Gujju, she'll have enough supply of khakra, bhujiya and namkeen to feed the entire train. She makes sure her family gets ghar ka khana even when not at home. She carries aachar and paper plates as well.

3. The Bhaiyaji: He hates being called bhaiya. But loves his phone. Because he has music on it. Music that he can blare out and loud for others to hear. He doesn't like his ear phones though. He has a list of once popular but now forgotten old hindi songs. Since that is his only mode of entertainment, he plays them ALL THE TIME! Loud enough to reach 15-15 people on each side of his berth.

4. The Rich College Kid: This kid is too cool. He doesn't talk to anyone. He likes his ipod and earphones. Always plugged in, a book or a magazine in hand and eyes romantically staring outside the window. These types  are often the ones who have to exchange berths with oldies who are too old to climb to the upper berths.

5. The Antakshari/ Taash Gang: They are the happiest of the lot. They have a gang and they have things to do.These types are loud, friendly and most annoying. They sing the same old songs stuck to the same old letters,  in the same old baritone. They think they are on a picnic. They have friends and families in other compartments having their own picnic. They, ofcourse, have to be visited as often as possible.

6. The Uncle who talks too loudly: Unlike the lover types who whisper into the phone, so soft that you can barely eavesdrop, these loud uncles are the least self conscious people on the train. They don't care if the whole compartment knows what they say to their wives, colleagues or the persons who will receive them at the station. They are so comfortable. No boundaries. Personal is public.

(The train who have been a quieter place had it not been for the bloody phones)

7. They - who snore: They start their business at 8.30 itself. Sometime even before the ice cream arrives. And they are at it the whole night long. As the night deepens, people from other berths join in, quite unintentionally. They have the talent of putting together an orchestra. The worst orchestra on earth. With different sounds, volumes and styles. They are the most disgusting. And if you don't have music and ear phones to drain out their symphonies, good luck to you!

Then there are the regular cuties who believe in befriending the housekeeping/pantry guys to extract extra favors, those who follow the TC (why do people call him TT?) to get a confirmed seat, those who dodge him to quickly smoke in the loo or hang outside the door. And finally those who just sleep from the minute they enter the train. Whats your type?

March 10, 2012

Bade Papa

To watch someone.
To watch someone in pain. In screaming excruciating pain. So much pain that every muscle that moves exudes trauma which suffocates the air. The trauma of physical pain.

To forget.
To forget faces you knew all your life.
To be lost in memory. A black hole of a lived lifetime.
An inability to remember faces. A convenient smile of helplessness.

To eat.
Mashed food disguised in fluids. 
And throw up traces of memory that dry on a blistered tongue. 

Control. Over body. Over pain. None.
Only Morphined body. Morphined pain.

To not watch someone die.
Not watch a ceremony.
Not see a body one last time.
A body which once lived.

To find a performance.
To find yourself in it.
And not know whether you like it or not.

He forgot my face in three weeks. He lost his sense of coherence in three weeks. He was in unimaginable pain for three weeks. I wanted him to recognize me at least once. I wanted to have a moment with him. One last memory with him which would have been our secret. Kept for a lifetime. His and mine.

I feared he would die in front of my eyes. He didn't.