These days, I am seldom left jobless at home. Some or the other work gets me started every day. I have been learning to drive not since very long. Today, I had to go to the ophthalmologist and the dentist for routine check-ups (by the way, I am no 80 years old… just 19) and could hardly give up the chance to drive. I started wheeling through the mild traffic while the driver sat beside guiding me. Feet and hands at work, it was ethereal moving on the road into the orange crimson light of the dim dying sun. With slight jerks as if the car had pangs and short stretches of smooth movement, I drove towards my nearby destination. When all on the road were happily descending to their homes tired from work, I had energy running through every vein and nerve of my body! At that moment, life felt calm, free from the troubling baggage it comes with and passions were lulled to sleep, while the car levitated through the scattered vehicles around, in motion consonant with mine!
The First rays of the day lit the room faintly while my phone started to alarm. I gaped with my eyes closed, for the phone. Switched the alarm off and got off the bed, called to wake up the birthday goose Karl Braganza and then in a jiffy, I was out of my room all ready for an extraordinary day ahead. I knew that there were only about nine days left to semester exams and I had to submit a legal methods assignment the next day. I thought I would leave these asides my brain for the one-day just to feel free of academic weight.
I went to Karl’s room, and standing in the balcony, made a few calls to my Mom, Dad and grandma, all of whom were quite disturbed by me not calling since a week ago. Karl, Jami, his room mate, a silently awesome guy, Dhruv Patwari, the funniest kiddo ever, Abhay, who has no control over his reactions to peoples’ jokes and comments, Uday, whose last name I do not know of and me, the self proclaimed rock star, went to the dining hall where we met with Swetha, a very good friend of mine and Joysheel who had become one as the day matured. We all had a boring breakfast and walked to the main gate where we got into an Innova, from where, we drove off – into unknown roads, small yet important pleasures and hell a lot of good memories – we were on our way to Delhi.
We got down in Jahangir Puri and took a metro to Saket. The metro ride was not a jot like I expected. It was clean, spick and span and the people were disciplined in their conduct. As soon as I got into the metro, the first word that struck my mind was ‘posh’. Dhruv was cracking jokes non-stop while Abhay couldn’t resist from pointing his finger to every passenger he was talking about. We got down at Saket and went to PVR cinemas and quickly sat in the theatre already missing half an hour of Intestellar movie. The movie was so awesome that I couldn’t rise from my seat after the movie was over and Dhruv, who sat beside me, started praising the movie so much and didn’t stop that the whole day.
From there, we roamed into and around different malls amidst crowds that seemed dejected and lost yet active and agile, and finally found our eyes on crispy cream donuts that were very pleasing to the eyes. With not a word from any of our mouths, that were to be pleased too, we went ahead and feasted upon some of the best donuts I’ve ever had. I was then quite taken aback on knowing peoples’ stomachs weren’t filled yet. So, we headed to TGIF (Thank God It’s Friday) and ordered pizzas. We had some of the best time and pizzas there. We talked a lot and also discussed about how each person in the group has met the others each for the first time. After our lunch, we had a few very good moments together captured in our cameras and went out of the mall where, Swetha and Karl have bought a gas balloon the resembled a zebra with much childish excitement.
We headed then, to metro station where sadly the zebra that hovered over our heads for over an hour has breached Swetha’s hold and went up flying only to be stuck to the ceiling of the metro station. We boarded the metro train anyways and after a good one hour more or less of travel, and a long walk on footpaths by roads with traffic and people that seemed a bit different and unusual in a way, we arrived at Palika Bazaar where we bought many a miscellaneous thing especially me with an air-gun, a badge with a smiley on it, a cap that would cover my ears (which I sure am not going to use in the coming few years before I lose all memory of it) and other such puny things in my bag.
Then, we walked for a very long time by the shops, cafés, bars and pubs of Connaught Place amidst people who looked quite amusing. Something in their conduct insinuated ingenuity, specifically in their frantic and frenzy. All people were rushing hither and thither, though I’m sure, without the need. A very fat lady walking, carrying all her bodily luggage, with a half emptied packet of groundnuts in her hands, without any concern or inhibition of people like me who would smirk surreptitiously, a motivating old man with a stick in his hand which seemed to be the only thing that helped him walk, moving forward in the best of his speeds with tenor that seemed to rout all fear from old age and others many such, of the most general of common public have allured, fascinated and interested me.
Finally, after a leg paining walk, we settled ourselves in a café for some snacks for about more than half an hour. We ate and had much fun with each other over the lamest of our jokes and funniest of our laughs with not a worry about time, which by then had reached its scant. Having paid the shockingly huge bill, we got ourselves out of there and walked to the metro station again to head back to Jahangir Puri from where we would take a cab back to the university – to call it day – a day spent with throbbing pitch at an exhilarating pace defeating the daily monotony of time giving it, the littlest of our concern and worry.
We reached the campus at 9:30 in the evening (you might as well call it night) and the food that we ordered from a nearby dhaba called Mughals over phone on our way back from Jahangir Puri had arrived diligently. We seated ourselves in the dining hall and had the tasty food and crazily, headed to Amul to have ice cream as if the chill of the night hasn’t satiated us. Relieved and tired, all have separated to their rooms to acquiesce with all that the day did offer, while I went to Pranav’s room to have some good chat and then to Karl Braganza’s room to wish him and Jami good night.
This way passed one of the best days I, and maybe others too, have had in the recent. I patted myself to have taken time to have fun on that day with people who became the best of my buddies since, and then I closed my eyes to sleep perpetuated deep by bodily tiredness while my brain spurned one insane dream after another about me having supernatural powers of flight and stealing half written manuscripts from Dan Brown… God, what a day it was!
This is and a small write up I wrote at 3 in the morning when all the thoughts of Vizag, a city in Andhra Pradesh, India where I once stayed for my law studies, took me over in its nostalgic web. I wrote this for ‘My Life… Your Life…’ that you can find in the side menu and couldn’t refrain from publishing it here though it is not written very formally…
I can’t stop but recollect all those feeling about Vizag. All those days when I used to just exist. I do not know what exactly implanted those days so firmly, so sweetly in my brain but I just can’t stop getting nostalgic about the immobile air there. I was free, though I had a million worries in my head. I used to wander around like a bird with minimum restrictions. I cannot think of that which rested in Vizag that allowed me to its closest making itself an inseparable part of me. I am completely taken into its trap of love, of compassion. My brain gets all wet when I think of those empty days and streets, when I used to walk in those crisscross streets near my house. I used to go to various friends houses, movies and parties. Most of all, the university and the crowd. For the first time in my life, something, without even my knowledge, touched my heart in such a sweet way and has written some indelible poetry on it. I do not explain but feel, the whole stay of mine at Vizag as a shell of peculiar air that doesn’t explain things but touches you, sways by you, and then, becomes you – whoever you are. It was magic. Better than anything, Lootera movie. If at all I were to call it something, I would call it a miracle in my life. Lootera is something I adore so much that I just can’t call it a movie. It is magic – a miracle in the form of art. Lootera, its tunes, scenes, characters and importantly, the times of it, played through the hungry pipes of my mind and have never stopped since. Naveen: my closest friend. DSNLU: my temple. The way I used to sit at the back in the class with Priya Kanurpati with thoughts about CLAT and goals that seemed distant. I used to go to the beach roam around with friends not even understanding what the beach, the road, the foot path that I walked on, the Karsura submarine, the people sitting by, enjoying the cool breeze and all, have been doing to me. Friends like Saumik, Ravi, Fazil, Priya and Nischit whom we used to friendly call, definite, were the best friends of mine and were those who have filled my mind with their friendship. All I can say after I have left Vizag and those times for good, is that they have given me, to keep with myself and cherish for my life, are memories. Memories not of playful things and adventurous deeds, but of the still air, the feeling, the touch and life. If at all anything, I cannot say more than this of the time I had there and what it has done in its miraculous ways. I just help but get up from my bed at this unusual time and write this. Vizag and Lootera have made themselves parts of me; parts of me inseparable, warming me and assuring me in their own unique ways that I have lived. I had my fill of life over there in that time. And that time couldn’t move forward, struck there. That time calls me every now and then. And I just let my mind slip into those memories…
Lilting notes of piano were soothing his mind and it was all silent except for the musical notes from his phone. Light from top of his study table lit the book before him comfortable to his eyes. Everything was at rest. No sounds or people or most importantly, their noises. The music from his phone conjured many an aesthetic image in his mind. It all seemed quite surreal to him – his room lit dimly by the study lamp, his books on his bed and the corners of his room, not reached by the light, all seemed dreamy. He felt he was placed in a different surrounding, one that distanced him from all that he didn’t want around – placed amidst true tranquility. No one to disturb him and his calm surroundings that seemed if not to be stopping the time, at least were slowing it down. Sitting beside his unmade bed – with every rumple and ruffle of it undisturbed, as if ossified into the immobile moment, he was having his time. All the ever present background commotion obscured by the moored moment, it was only the music from his phone that his mind lingered upon, while note after note touched his heart…
“We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”
– Dead Poets Society
When I see humans in a larger perspective, as if a painting of every human being on a canvass called life, I see the silent rumbling of streams of paint called feelings. Profusion of paint called emotion. As if a web binding the whole society together. As if connecting every heart however distant together. Through this fervor that rests deep in our hearts, that gives the human heart it’s peculiarity, that which makes us cry or laugh, that which sprouts the heart to life what is otherwise a callous and lifeless rock, I sometimes catch myself wondering in awe, trying to decipher what this magic is in spite of knowing there is no answer to it. In this stupidity of mine, I try to find warmth; I try to find solace in its pointlessness. Maybe that’s what it is all about – The fine vagueness of our heart that lets the beauty all around seep.
Lately, a strong urge to start writing a novel is kind of agonizing me. Stories, I always had plenty but my writing was where I am always dubious. This is a shot I’m giving at it just to seek your comments on it. The following scene is from a movie. Please tell me how my language is. Your suggestions are most respected.
Rebecca woke up on a bed, in a room filled with books that would surely count in hundreds. She was on a bed with plush mattress and pillows snug and cozy in a thick woolen blanket on rich satin bed sheet. She was still in her blue top and cream cartons though. She got up from the bed and made her way to the door that was just a few feet away. The fresh and rejuvenated feeling she got while in bed was now evanescing as her mind started to get a clearer memory of what had happened a few hours ago before she fainted. A tart head ache started to tangent her mind when she could connect all loose ends and arrive at an astute picture. Her past was now clear to her while the present lingered hazy, ‘Where am I?’ being the first question.
She could see light from the thin space under the door. “Where am I?”, the question pinched her mind again. “Is someone there outside the door?” “Will I be safe if I open the door?” “Will it open or is it locked?”… She brought her hand to the knob, turned it and let the door creak open.
The room was very strange. Looked and felt eerie. It looked abandoned yet neat and tidy. Neatly levelled cement floor like in subways and other public places and statues with strangely expressed faces. On the walls were framed paintings that looked as if wearied by time. She took a few steps ahead, awe struck by the spatial magnanimity of the place, far too large to be called a room.
She now stood before a large painting of Charlemagne hung on the wall and suddenly felt someone behind her. Sensing harm, she turned back and looked at a man slim and tall, wearing all black. He stood there without movement as if holding himself rigidly. He was wearing a very strange mask.
How was it?
With many goals and ideals backed with immense ardor, I entered the campus in a white Innova trying to see my next five years in the gigantic buildings before me and in the sprawling lawns carpeted all around in the campus. I checked myself from feeling lost amidst the diversely populated and restrained myself from searching for people from southern part of India, me being one. People of all types were frantically walking around shuffling their documents that had to be produced for admission.
I stepped into the admission procedure not finding a reason for the chaos all around for the process was very simple. After getting all things done in a very pernicious way, with great enthusiasm, relaxed, I headed towards the hostel with my luggage. I expected the hostels to be at least in the neighborhood of ‘good’ but when I reached, I was spell-boundly held outside my room stunned looking at it. It was a very spacious and plushly furnished twin sharing room with comfortable beds and study tables. I couldn’t think of anything that I could ask for that wasn’t provided. My room to me was a very pleasant surprise like every other room to their yet to be residents were, I assumed.
After my clothes and other stuff rested arranged in the cupboard I was provided with, I sat on my bed acquiesced, thinking I finally reached the end of the proverbial tunnel. That the next step of my life is a sophisticated and a grandly portending one. I then bid my dad, my sole accompanier to the college, a farewell and came back to my hostel only to find out I didn’t wanted to. I couldn’t resist myself from mingling with the students all around and exploring with them the college and the good things it had to offer. And hence, with a three students I befriended instantly (which now, after a week at JGU, culminated into a group of six close friends.), I treaded around all the unrestricted areas of the campus basking the university as well as the company.
The college is a palatial one in every sense of that word. High rising architectural edifices and far stretching lawns bestrewed with elegant topiaries. I spent some time marveling at how great the campus is and I could feel in my bones what gigantic importance it would give to my dreams and goals. And then in the night, I sat slumped back in my chair with my feet on my bed rewinding in my mind the day and what it presages about my life at the university. My maiden day at O. P. Jindal Global University was very exciting and energetic and one that seemed like a grand ‘AHOY’ to the days that awaited.
– Pratheek M Reddy