Goodbye TS

The blogger in me was still unborn when I first undertook the rigorous time-trial of a mid-semester examination. Those were days when my Branch-change dreams were still in their infancy; when I saw everything through rose-tinted lenses. The new Central Library had just been opened (and wasn’t the hostile MGCL of today) and India was yet to win the T20 World Cup.

Today, I see tinges of grey even as I re-read my post, though I know that the rose-tinted lenses have just sauntered back on for their second-innings. TSs have always been a time when I’m at my element – at least on my blog (my Glory, Glory Ghissing days are a distant memory). I once made a promise and I've endeavoured to fulfil it over the past few years: Write a blog-post on the eve of every TS. 2011 hasn't exactly been the konfessions’ golden age, and I must be forgiven for last time.

But I won’t fail twice. The days prior to a TS are days when the mind is at its creative best. Make all Indians write TSs and I swear to you that we’ll be a superpower before Armageddon – 2012.

It feels strange and rather disturbing that there was once a time I could write seven exams in two days in relative comfort. Today, three in as many days feels like an ordeal. But it’s probably a lot when you think of the fact that we have only five contact hours in a week. Nevertheless, I must turn away from my blog so I can ensure that this TS is, indeed, my last.

Goodbye TS. I shall miss you.

Dispor(i)ted

Arun's status message on FB (paraphrased): "Our life is like a fraction; The numerator being what we are... And the denominator being what we want to be." Do your arithmetic.

My wing emptied itself out today, leaving Yours Truly as the sole company for dear ole Pink-punk. The cold wind blows through the hollow corridors as I find emptiness within...

While my neighbour pines for company, I must tell you I'm enjoying it. Simple astrology would tell you that it is but an expected trait of a Virgin, not because they are loners but because it gives time to reflect. To ponder. And it was during one of these bouts, in the afternoon, when I began to wonder about that 'Denominator', in my life. A rather disheartening picture crept up, with life tending to null and void. Feeling rather dispirited already, I walked out of S-7's safety into the open second-floor corridor... That was when it hit me. The reason why I was, all of a sudden, thinking about life as a fraction hit me hard. It was the same reason why my corridor is all but empty.

I am, generally, rather content with my routine, my achievements (whatever measly total they amount to) and my goals. But come December, I start feeling that vacuum again. Last year's Chennai and this year's Kanpur leave me estranged. The answer's cold hand slaps me across the face. This happens to be just the tip of a massive iceberg.

When I was in the fifth grade, I was introduced to the world of Classical music. I barely understood it then; I love it now, but without understanding. Then, in Standard Seven, I began to learn the keyboard and the 'Casio' entered my life. For three years it stayed; years when it would sing in harmony with my vocal chords. Incidentally, it was also Class VII when I began 'Tennis'. The coach liked me; 'vice-versa' not being applicable. Soon, I began Volleyball lessons in school. I wasn't nearly the best, but fast improving. I still boast of the one certificate I managed out of it in my résumé! I loved Cricket as a playing sport and I wouldn't be boasting if I said I was the best Batsman and Spinner within a few blocks' vicinity. Then.

It was when I began Volleyball, that I gave up on the tennis coaching. And then weirdly enough, I dropped Volleyball as it bored me! The Casio stopped singing to my fingers' dance almost in sync with my larynx's reluctance to produce melody. It was Standard X. Cricket lived on in my blood. Football grew on me. Then, I reached IITR. They both hit 'Pause'.

You realize the pain of failure when your denominator is so large. When you dream of doing great things, each setback is like a spear through the heart. Worse, however, is the pain of not being able to fail! Just because you gave up too early. I still can sketch brilliantly (can't say the same about painting) but I don't. I can sing. I don't. I could relearn the keyboard. I won't. Tennis exited my life early, though I'd have loved to go on. I almost made NSO with 'Volleyball'. I simply never visited the courts again! Life seems to have sapped me of Cricket. It all seems late now. I have a long way to go in order to become finite once more. All I do is crib. And write.

Rhyme or Reason

A class-time poem: The Shepherd (name being a shameless copy)

On the eastern slopes, as the sun did fade

Stood my dozen sheep and I

They grazed- content, in the hillock's shade

None of them escaped my eye.

They were mine- in their golden fleece

I watched them meander with smiles - benign

My only friends among the trees

When for company, I would pine.

I loved the beasts with all my heart

And will continue to love them still

But oft I wonder - "If we were apart -

Would my sheep be happy still?"

The very thought fills me with dread

Love yearns to be reciprocated, yet -

As they walk happy, and far-away tread

They will, for love, remain ever in debt.

Love - I know, is to give and give

And expect nothing back.

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La Gare Du Nord

I expected a blast of cold air, or at least a chilly October-ish breeze. Instead, a 95% R.H. welcomed me with open arms to the great state of J&K. It wasn't my first visit to the state (and neither should it be my last) but everytime I reach Jammu, I somehow expect blizzards and Yetis even though I'm sure that the odds of those happening are about the same as a tsunami in Roorkee. Nevertheless, I was decieved once again.

Hemkunt Express was expected to reach the Jammu Tawi train station at quarter to five, a deadline - I'm quite sure it met, because, when I was rudely shaken awake sometime later by someone who looked like he had come to clean the compartment, the train was pretty much stationary, not to mention empty. An expletive for the man and an ejaculation of gratitude directed upwards (for making Jammu the last stop) later, I alighted, groggy and fatigued; drag-bag and all. The stares I obtained from the few people waiting on the platforms told me that I much resembled the Muddlehead from Petushkee. Undeterred and unfazed by my hostile environs, I continued to stumble forth towards the fat man in khakhi who stood by, what looked like, the gate. I must mention here, that the station betrayed no signs of this being the capital (if only Summer) of the crown-state of India.

My cell-phone battery was dead and I needed to contact Dad who I was to meet as soon as he alighted his own train from Delhi. The problem was I didn't register his coach number, the train's timing or even it's name! The lack of a timepiece and my inability to tell the time by looking at the stars and the moon, lead me to approach the previously mentioned fat-man ('FM' henceforth) in khakhi (who plays a wonderful part in this tale).

I: "Uncleji, time kya hua hai?"

FM: "Mere haath pe ghadi dikti hai kya? Time pooch rahe ho!"

I: "To time kahan se pata karoon? Actually, main train keliye wait kar raha hoon."

FM: "Mujhe pata nahin... Idhar-Udhar dekho. Kahin na kahin to mil hi jaayega."

I assumed he was talking about a clock, and not the train, and proceeded to follow his wise instructions. The quest for the elusive clock in the railway station followed and luckily, I wasn't to be disappointed. Within five minutes, I had indeed zeroed in on the location of a clock. But what I saw alarmed me! The clock (I swear) read: 4:61! I didn't bother checking whether it was A.M. or P.M, of course. Hapless and lost and running out of time, I ran back to the only source of information I had.

I: "Sirjee, yeh phone ko charge karna hai. Plug-point kahan milega?"

FM: "Kaunsa SIM Card hai?"

(I didn't think it was his business. Nevertheless)

I: "Airtel Prepaid."

FM: "Idhar dekho." (Suddenly switching languages) "The Airtel SIMs of India do not work here. And our SIMs do not work in their states!"

I was so baffled by his latest vocalization that I collapsed on my suitcase. India? Jammu? Passports?!

However, the next few words just about escaped my mouth.

I: "STD or PCO booth? Where can I find one?"

FM: "Arre, samajhte nahin ho tum! Hamara desh bahut gareeb hai... Idhar aapko booth-vooth nahin milne wala."

I was utterly devastated after the chat and began thinking up ways to beg, borrow or steal my way back to R, which seemed like heaven now!

However as the story goes, I travelled a kilometer outside the station premises to locate an open PCO. I made the call and intercepted Dad's train. The remainder of the journey went quite uneventfully with the climb from Katra proving to be a wonderful experiance once again!

I finish off this post rather hurriedly as I have two exams to write tomorrow. Happy Onam to all. Jai mata di.

Notes:

#1. This is part of my pre-exam stress relief exercise. And yes, I remain sane.

#2. According to the Hindu calendar, I have completed 20 years on this Earth today.

#3. Chelsea is depicting sheer class! Hope it lasts. It's beautiful football.

Zeitgeist

The last couple weeks have been quite phenomenal and unlike any of those three previous couples preceding the ominous end sems. For the first time during my tenure in R, I introduced myself to the 500 odd pages of study material well within the last one week. There have always been a few things I relish before the exams, simply because they provide that much needed break from monotony; that cushion against madness. For one, I have always loved those minutes in front of the mirror with a razor in hand, humming away 'November Rain' a day before the exams... The other thing, I have never failed to do is - posting, a day or two before the exams.

This time neither happened. I have, only now, typed out a post about the 'spirit of the time', just after getting rid of a week of stubble. All this, after two exams have passed! The semester has whizzed past at a breakneck pace and the past two weeks, perhaps even faster. Goodbyes were said and people took their final bows even as they braced themselves for a whole new journey... far away from R. Yet again, I realized how dear those old friendships are even as I saw that newer ties had blosommed and bloomed. A handful of photoshoots and some 200 photos later, we emerged, dazed by the flash. I have managed to pose in every weird way thinkable (and some unthinkable, courtesy Prondi). All the time, the second issue of the semester was developing into a twenty-pager and I hardly found time for anything else. Pressed, though I was, these have been some of the most beautiful days of my life. And I wish time would move a lot slower as I don't want to give up so much... so soon.

A TOC interview (in which Jetty, god alone knows how, rocked), some more chapos (you tend to get bored of them), Arth, an ex-chairman of WatchOut and lot more work have really left me out of breath. So much so, that the usual 'I really need to study now!' was replaced by 'Yaar, it's too late now; not much I can do anyway... Let's sleep.' With Facebook and GTalk permeating every nook and cranny of my life, even though I like neither of them, things have become even harder, if that was possible.

Two exams gone and five to go before its all over. Albeit the end of days continues to haunt me, I reflect upon how it has been so far. Nanotech was a clear 'No, no brain-er', though I had to pool in ideas with Jetty in order to bring out more comprehensive answers. However todays paper was, well... Par excellence. After a long time, a JEE style paper had me K.O'd. The last time, I scraped through. I'm not too sure about what is in for me this time around.

Having less time to study, courtesy WONA, and chosing to sleep during the time I had, I got up at first light today to realize that I knew next to nothing. Meticulously, I began improving my chances through the 'Store' function of my Casio 991-MS. Bravely, I entered the exam hall with some 47 odd pairs of eyes staring at me. I was late. As soon as I got seated, my usually impeccably superfoccused mind refused to cooperate! 'Dream On' and 'Comfortably Numb' looped some 4 times in my mind (apiece) after which I had the urge to study the frequency of the fan overhead... After some serious mind - focussing, I began unravelling the mysteries of Thermo using pen, paper and CalC when disaster struck. I pressed some thing I ought not have pressed! And soon, five of my stored variables read the same - 42! The answer to life, the universe and everything else? I doubt the prof will understand it, but I had no choice. Three hours later, it was heartening to see that everyone had messed their papers! Hope still lives on...

P.S. Everyone has been finding it strange; a change - they say, they see (saw, whatever). And accusations of a Kondy 2.0 have been brought about. Let me assure you here, ladies and gentlemen, that nothing has really changed.

P.P.S. Another reason why the last two weeks have been quite different; one to be happy about finally - HHH posted once. Only once.

TSs come and TSs go... but jobless we remain forever

I’ve been working off some of the backlog lately – remnants of a bygone age, unnecessary and yet compulsory. I still remember that day. Semester 3 (2-1), it was. Those were the days when I was still young and reckless, grabbing at everything I could see, constantly ending up with a lot more than I could handle. But that was also the age when my evangelistic avatar was willing to accept the burden and work towards its culmination…. But all that was back then. Now, I lack the zeal and vigour to take up those challenges which I’d have been more than happy to take up back then. I lack the force to back some of the claims I make...

As I was saying, it was one of those overenthusiastic days when I accepted my first “job” in IITR  from Rockstar (no, not 'Wha') who promised us (which would be Pinkster and me) great monetary reward in return for our commitment and hard work. Realizing that it was a good way to make a fast buck and since the ‘job’ involved editing (which I (we) love doing), we plunged headlong into the trap! There began my (not our) woes… I never realized that editing could be so monotonous and irksome! Actually, the fact that I’m still normal after those 100 odd clones, which they call articles, mystifies me. They all involved Horosopes, Love-o-logy etc… yes, I too thought they would be interesting at first but then after learning all the signs of the zodiac like the back of my hand, I beg to change my opinion.

For example, I can now tell you that because lion denotes king (or queen), Leos need lots of worship and compliments in order to be sure they're loved and admired and authority is what they seek etc. and I realize that I can lecture Sybyl Trelawney on divination. Maybe the experience would have been slightly better had I completed my work in time (which the Pinkster easily managed), which was due last semester, but the experience would have still barely fallen just short of ‘sad’. The fact is that the work got buried and it was only weeks (or months, was it?) of joblessness later, just when the TSs are around, I am told to get the work done ASAP (as always, more of S and less of P).

I begin: ‘The Virgo – Cancer Relationship’, I read… Ahh yes, Virgo, my sign! Maybe this’ll help me, I think at first. But sifting through the wads of pages, I emerge dazed, confused and unenlightened, uninspired… Virgo with Virgo, Libra and even Leo had gone by – I felt numb. Those tips, I had sought for, had deserted me even as I realized that the key lay not in the stars... That quantum of solace had eluded me! Facebooking relieved some of those stresses and strains (which according to MT-201, are quite different) as it told me that I was among the 1000 best minds in the world and that I was an 'Exponentiation Function' when expressed mathematically…. I also realized that it was the first of April and that something was needed with immediate effect - something which would liven the gloom and unbury the ghissus from their piles of books. My actions, the world knows now. For those who don’t know (and for those who do), visit www.jettyman.blogspot.com (and comment)…. The world laughed and hence, April first was a great day.

Feeling good, I would have gone on to ghiss… but slumber nabbed me when I was still in the process of devising the greatest quiz ever (it will be out in open market soon). Second of April was into its after-wee hours when I got back to my senses. An average day has ensued, but it is only towards the end that I have realized that I actually begun to like ghissing after a long while…. Immediately recognizing the weirdness (eeriness, actually) of the situation, in an attempt to remedy it, I sat down to write this post.

P.S. I really appreciate Jetty for having taken the blog in the right spirit (but it was classy, you ought to admit to that).

P.P.S. @ The Moustached Marvel, contrary to your requests, I don’t think I’ll mention Ms. Adjudicator ever. Beautiful as she was, she’s really not worth a post; an entity of the past.

P.P.P.S. @ All, Thank you all for the compliments for the other  (it’s no longer only for SHE ) blog. I recommend that everyone do something of greater scale next Fool’s day. As they say, add a li’l chaos into those normal, normal lives! 

And continue commenting (on that); we need to beat all blog records!