The end of an era!

It's been an awfully long time. I don't want to make any excuses this time. I can recollect at least ten different occasions when I thought, "I should write about this for MAMM," but I never sat down to do that. Sheer laziness. Nothing else.

It does not mean I have not been writing though. Take a look at this, in case it helps!

When I settled down with my laptop in front of the department today, I had absolutely no intention to write this one. But I bumped into this while browsing randomly and realised that I have come a long way. Of course, I had to share the intense nostalgia with you, right?

As clichéd as it may sound, it really feels like yesterday. I can still remember thinking in my head "Oh God, at which moment did I decide to choose this place?" while I rode closer to hostel every afternoon after class. What I cannot remember is when that feeling melted away. When I took a liking to this place. When this place became home.

There are a million things about the university that I will miss. F Hostel bajjis, fortnightly cycle shop visits, 5l Bisleri cans from Uncle's Shop, irani chai from Shop Com - too many to list.

On the course front, my choice of stream, I understand, was one of the best decisions in my life. Being the disillusioned bunch we were, of ten students with absolutely no particular liking for each other whatsoever, we have still managed to pull off a massive amount of work together. In the process, we have all become quite close too.

The teachers! :) I am one of those who cannot comfortably sit if a teacher passes by or enters a class. Even now, yes. When some of my classmates nudge me asking me to remain seated because they don't want to get up, I cannot agree. Some things are not meant to change whether you are in STD I or MA fourth semester.

Coming to the point, whatever disagreements I may have had with some of my faculty members, I completely cherish each one of them. If there has to be one person who I should start with, it is Prof. Pavarala. There is no logic to my particular liking for him other than the fact that he is an amazing teacher. He just knows his job too well. And when he talks, it makes complete sense to me. And if it doesn't, he decodes it from my expression and re-explains. It is a very simple equation.

Sanjay Sir always reminded me of Achan, a little less temperamental of course. In all frankness, I don't think it has anything to do with the fact that he is Deepti's dad. He is just very fatherly even when he teaches.

Ramu Sir is as much a friend as a teacher. He does not intimidate you and oozes the fact of the matter that he means well for you.

Someone who came late into my life is Usha Ma'am. I have had only one course with her, that too in the last semester. I love her for the person that she is. She completed my campus family equation by easily fitting in as the mother figure. And such less time she took!

Now, the last bit. Friends. I think I am quite jinxed in this department. Being an extrovert, I make friends wherever I go. I did so here as well. But you know, the 'best friend' types? That never happened to me. Probably it is my other preoccupations that never led me into such a bond. Probably it is my egoistic nature as someone close pointed out. Whatever it is, I graduate from this university, without finding a bosom buddy who I can treasure for life. There is Deepti who comes very close. But still, I feel a void which was caused by certain misunderstandings and heartbreaks. And coming to think that this was most probably my last lap of education and hence my last chance to make that kind of a friend, it is distressing.

Tomorrow, my fourth semester exams start. Another ten days, and my course gets over. All the pluses and minuses put together, I think I will come out victorious. I guess that's how my life was meant to be.

Leening's Manipur, Our Manipur...

Request: Please read the whole post before you make any judgment about me. :) I love Manipur!

Leening Meetei is my classmate at University of Hyderabad. If there is one word that describes him, it's Manipur; he eats, drinks and sleeps Manipur. When a research or writing assignment is given in class, no effort needs to be taken to guess what Leening would do. It would invariably be about Manipur.

I have very often been amused by this. I am a very proud Malayali; but I do not take up Kerala for every damn thing like he does. I have often thought; why such forceful assertion?

The other day, Leening was doing rounds in the class with a signature petition. It was addressed to the President of India against the fake encounter killing that happened in Manipur recently that took the life of Chonkham Sanjit (27). My turn was over and I was casually watching him. Then, I saw something in his eyes that I had never seen before - some amount of passion and a lot more of pain.

That's when I started thinking more deeply than I used to. Earlier, my thought process was something like this. 'With the very little knowledge I have of this huge issue, I know that most North Eastern states demand autonomy. Yet, there is a North East quota in my university (and probably in many other places in the country) and they are all duly filled. I mean, if you want to get separated from this country, why use the infrastructure here? That's sheer selfishness! If you want to take advantage of the facilities here, might as well stick to the sovereignty of the country!'

The pain in his eyes told me that he and I were different. I was born in a part of India that, post independence, has not witnessed a massive conflict of any sort. A place where democracy is probably at its best with everyone taking their right to life and freedom of expression for granted. I have hardly seen a person from the Armed Forces at work in the part of Kerala that I live. My perception of violence, freedom, civic sense and security is different because of this.

Leening, on the other hand, has probably spent his childhood in fear. To quote Tehelka, "Life in Manipur is like a lottery. You are alive because you are lucky." He did most of his education in Andhra Pradesh because the situation in his state was not condusive. He hasn't seen his family for months together now, because conflicts are consistent back home and travelling during our last vacation would have been dangerous. He has probably witnessed the death of a relative in the hands of people who are supposed to ensure security - the Armed Forces.

I have now realised that a comparison between him and me is futile; we are so darn different. It is because of the North East quota, that I used to detest, that Leening is being able to give wings to his dreams. It is because of his belief that change is possible in this country, despite all the atrocities that his state is witnessing, that he is still going on with that signature campaign. If he does not deserve to be a citizen of this India as comfortably as I am, with all the security that I was born with and am used to, then who else is this India for?

Many North Eastern Indians migrate to other parts of India in the hope of a better life. But is it any different for them? Armed Forces may not attack or kill without a reason, but what about civilians? They attack with detesting looks that speak on the lines of "Why the hell have you come over to our place?"

Just the other day, I was comfortably seated on an APSRTC bus. A North Eastern family comprising a young man, an almost-girl-like woman and their tiny kids got into the bus. The mother clad in a saree was a far cry from the stylish and sleek looking North Eastern girls I have seen on my campus, I thought. I noticed that people maintained a safe distance from the rough looking short man as though he was a terrorist, an intruder.

As the kids dozed off leaning to their mother's shoulder, I kept on gazing much to the discomfort of that woman. I was thinking how similar these four human beings were to any other random family in that bus. Yet, how different! It wouldn't be easy for them to get a house to live or a job to earn a living. The struggle to garner an identity was clearly visible on all the four faces. Even if they wanted to think of themselves as Indians, we the 'original Indians' would not let them do so.

Unity in Diversity is probably the most overrated myth that is taught in schools. You will grow up to learn that equality, let alone unity, is still a dream for many in this country.

Which is why I love you Debo! I love you for the fact that you are one of the few people who can think broad enough to assume a North Eastern Indian as close to you as I would assume a Malayali to me.

Middle Class Maniac - Me!

The characteristics attributed to middle classism are many. But I am dealing with only one right now. That’s regarding money, honey!!

I can recall umpteen incidents right from my school-going age until like day before yesterday when my friends labeled me ‘cheap,’ ‘stingy,’ and what not. All thanks to my nature of being extra cautious with money no matter which stage of life I was in – studying or working.

Take a sneak peak!

*I prefer bus to auto rickshaws. I developed a strong hate feeling for autos at Kottayam where they do not have meters unlike in bigger cities. Which means the driver’s word or price is the law and I cannot accept that. I always need a visible proof to the money that I am spending. Hyderabad autos of course have meters, but not all drivers turn them on. Some quote fancy prices and I walk away without even responding. At some other times, I bargain madly with the drivers to get a price that I think is fair. I might be doing this at the oddest time of the day (err, night) possible when another auto is not in the vicinity. Dangerous enough, huh? And then, there are buses that get you to your destination for 5 INR in the place of 50 INR in auto. So what if you have to walk 100m to get to the bus stop?

#And my friends go “But why? Why would you want to stand squeezed through a grueling experience with your face inside a smelly armpit?”

^But are they capable of comprehending the beauty of bus rides that let you enjoy a city from an elevated view? NO.

*I choose quantity over quality, especially with clothes. If you tell me I have a choice between four bright coloured simple cotton Kurtis from General Bazaar and one ultra elegant Biba Kurta from Hyderabad Central that costs more than all the other four put together, I will definitely go for the former.

#And my friends go “Thank God, everyone in this world is not like you. Otherwise there would not have been something called class.”

^But do they understand that having the variety of four colours and Kurtis is far more exciting than owning one single piece which you will soon be bored of? NO.

*Unless someone else who loves me a lot (read Achan) is booking the ticket, I always travel in sleeper class in Indian Railways. A three tier AC ticket in Sabari Express from Secunderabad to Kottayam costs 960 INR and in sleeper class it costs 400 INR. It is indeed a meager difference if you think about it. But when I think about it, I can save 500 INR and travel in the very same train and reach at the same time as the AC guys would. It’s not as if I live in a centrally air-conditioned home anyway.

#And my friend goes (not many know of this) “You are a freak.”

^But does he know that the view of nature and the feel of breeze compensates more than enough for the sweat particles you accumulate through the journey (as opposed to the sluggishness of oversleep that AC gives you)? NO.

*I hold the view that if friends go for a movie or dining together, everyone should share the expenses. This is even when it is a small group of two or three, even when it is a modest place where food/movie ticket does not cost much. In my roomie Richa’s words, I am a contri person (one who believes in contributing, apparently).

#And my friend goes “Yieeew! How can you be cheap enough to ask your friend for 40 bucks spent on French Fries?”

^But does she know of the glorious feeling that says ‘40 or 4000 does not matter, all my friends are equals.’ NO.

*I love the art of supermarket shopping and am a master at it. The mastery is over FMCG price watching. Let me explain. I take an article that is a potential buy, look at the packaging, check the price and net quantity, compare it with other brands on offer and decide which one is a better option. This also means that if Surf is available in a 450g pack (I hate the ‘non standard weight’ trick that companies have come up with to cheat consumers) and Ariel is available in, let’s say 650g packs, I actually stand there and do the math to find out the 50g price of each one. Sigh. Tedious, I know; but I do it nevertheless.

#Thank God, only I know this. :D

^But I myself know that this can be done only when I am shopping alone. Else, any person who potentially understands the calculations going on inside me could just murder me. YES.

I am sure you got a fair idea about the hard and fast middle class ideologies that I live by. Except one time, no comment from any friend has offended or hurt me (the exception obviously came from a girl friend in the quantity over quality instance). Guess why? I am proud of it, that’s why! I have grown up watching a simple living father and mother who pretty much led the same lifestyle when their salaries were in five digits and when it later turned to six digits. Achan still thinks it is a waste to spend more than a thousand rupees on a shirt. Amma still thinks there is no need to drive alone in a car and go to Kottayam town when she can ‘comfortably’ get into a ‘line’ bus and get back. Now, with such a set of parents, can I be any different?

This is not to say that I don’t have the greed to earn lots of money. My parents have never had that, but I do. I dream about a day when I have enough money to travel the globe and such other things. But when it comes to actually spending it, I think I will remain the middle class girl that I am and choose what is cheap. And you know what? I think I will still enjoy finer things of life. Which definition is not subjective anyway? My life, I define.

PS : The bit about Achan booking the ticket should not be misconstrued. That does not mean him paying for it. He pays anyways whether I book or he books. The point is when he books himself PHYSICALLY and I am not around, he makes sure I have some luxury. 

The Monsoon has come, so have I!

The other day, one of my cousins was ruthless enough to tell me that he has totally forgotten me. Apparently, the only way he used to remember me was through my posts. Now that the profile is full of dust, I have been reduced to a dusty corner of his memory as well. That's when I realized, I should change the equations!

So here I am, back to the grind. I won't even get to the usual explanation and excuse grind. Three months lost are three months lost. Gone with the wind and the rain too!

Rain! Oh yes, I am at home, the land of letters, latex and lakes enjoying my summer break. Sharada sent me an SMS yesterday calling me a 'lucky one' for being from the land where monsoon originates! I was flattered. Truly, monsoon is monsoon only when it happens in Kerala. It is so effervescent and so omnipresent! Travel from Parassala to Parassinikkadavu on a rainy day and chances are, your car will be rainwashed throughout.

Coming to the monsoon this time, weather experts 'predicted' three days back that monsoon will arrive in Kerala in a week's time. And lo! The rains really had to prove them wrong. It arrived bang on the very next day. Those experts must be sheepishly smiling now, right?

The nature around has suddenly taken a different hue of green. A very dark shade that makes you want to go deep into it and explore the secrets and the stories behind. The brown of dust has gone into oblivion and this mysterious green has completely taken over. Oh, there is a famous smell that people talk about when rains first hit the earth, right? I could not sense it at all mainly because the very first downpour was, well, indeed a heavy downpour! I guess that smell (famously called puthumanninte manam in Malayalam) just melted away in the water. Anyone knows what this smell is called in English? Most times, my vocabulary is just not enough to talk about my God's own country. ;)

A friend of mine is a fan of long drives on rainy days. He keeps telling me how he loves the left-right movement of wipers as the car tries to evade the rain and rush fast. The screech like sound of rubber against glass 'exhilarates' him in his words! I could never fathom his energy as he voiced his wiper mania. But yesterday, I got a taste of the thrill. As I drove after a second show from Kottayam town to my home in Arpookara, I realized that it was the first time I was driving in such torrential rain. Add to it the tension of driving through an almost invisible road in darkness, I was quite on my toes. Plus there is dad by the side nerving me consistently saying “Slow Down” even at 40 kmph.

Nevertheless, it was truly an 'exhilarating' experience. Water is an amazing thing, you see. Even if your skin cannot feel it, it cools you from within. The gush sound, the translucency.. I can feel it as I write about it. It is that magical! When it comes directly from the heavens, in its purest form, it is all the more beautiful. Almost breath-taking.

The feeling of being in a cozy enclosure with an air conditioned breeze to add to the comfort and witnessing the most energetic flow of water right in front of you – I think that's what adds the exhilaration element to drives on a rainy day! Think about it. Just hundred centimeters away, there is a world of water out there waiting to rush in and drench you. It holds a huge suspense within– what if the front glass just breaks off right now? Now, I do think it is a phenomenal space to be in.

But right now, I am in a different air conditioned enclosure which is not so exciting - Manorama Online's office in the Manorama building on K K Road. More from this space, later. :)

Some rattlings...

Sometimes, things happen not for a reason. My hiatus from blogging is such a thing. Yes, I know that it is a very philosophical way of explaining laziness.

While I am extremely sorry that almost two months slipped off through my fingers without any output, there were exciting things that kept me occupied. May be they have made my thinking/thought process clearer. May be, this will help me write better in future.

One of my goals when I decided I am going to be a part of the IFFK this year was to write reviews for the bad and good films I watch; to make a diary of them and present before you. Clearly, none of that has happened. Mainly because watching five films back to back for seven days continuously was in itself a task. Analyzing them at the end of the day just did not happen. However, I am trying to put together a briefing of sorts which will remain a memoir of the film extravaganza that I attended.

Since Sharada was around, my family went for a Kumarakom trip with her. We have been there before; but this one was special because all of us were together after a long time. A close friend from school got married on the Christmas day. To attend that, I cancelled a family Bangalore trip. I don’t regret it at all as the delight of Liya’s expression when she saw me compensates for it. I was her only friend who attended the wedding.

School friends are always so special. They see you grow through those transforming stages of life. They are the friends who you have for the longest time. They know your families and vice versa much better because school friendships are monitored and approved by parents more. You have shared tiffin boxes. You have fought for silly things and then forgotten about them the next day. You have grown up together to be what you are. I was extremely emotional to see Liya get married. For many many more reasons. It is the next stage of her life and I so wish she be the happiest ever married girl. She deserves it. As I write this, she is in her flight to Sydney with Micheal.

Much more has happened in the new year. A new semester has begun. I am back at the university missing all the family time I had in Kerala. Soon, I will slip into a mode where home is at the other end of phone calls; just that.

Our courses this semester are far more ‘serious’ than last semester. At least, they sound so.

• Media Laws and Ethics
  
• Communication and Social Change
  
• Introduction to Advertising and PR
  
• Print and Web Production
  

The last course is the one that I am looking forward to. I hope that it will help improve my status of a tech-ignorant person. More importantly, I will learn to deal with softwares that enable me to make my blog look better.

The post has been long. Sandhya chechi, thanks for letting me know in the meanwhile that you were missing me. This one is for you!