Hamari pyaari Lux-me bhaabhi!

Hamaari pyaari Lux-me bhaabhi ko hi vote dijiyega!

This photograph was taken by yours truly on the way from RAVE to Rawatpur about an year ago on Diwali. Enjoy!

Life moves on…

It’s that day again. Two years ago today at roughly the time of this post a sweeper in the faculty building of IIT Kanpur saw the end of a dream. My friend Swapnil had died. We had an exam that day. I remember it, Chemistry (CHM201). He never came to give that exam. He simply left us.

After his death, there were discussions. Why did he do it? Why students do this? What should be done to curb this? Was it even a suicide? And the like. That however didn’t matter much because neither did anything happen and nor did it do (not that it was possible) to Swapnil. Media however had a fields day: another way to have a go on the IIT system – how it sucked and was inappropriate and all.

I had imagined today that day. How we will all move on and forget him…a closed chapter in our lives or may be an omitted one. That I suppose is the way of the world. We all will graduate, pass out, live our lives and then wither. He however will always be young bikka, always in the second year. How much do I hate him!!

It didn’t sink in somehow at that time that he will not be there to return home and enjoy the day with his family and then come back here to miss them. To be the part of jokes, classes and things. To accompany me on Pushpak Express. To give me notes and information about lectures. To pester me with doubts. To take my lab-reports. To answer those scraps on Orkut. To accept that testimonial I wrote for him…to make more out of the moments together. He robbed us of himself.

But now I see it, it doesn’t matter much to most of the people. His parents, yes; other family members, may be, but others…well most of us are happy today that end-sems have ended and worried that placements are coming. We are busy playing games on computers, watching movies and TV shows, playing cricket, celebrating achievements, having treats in restaurants, roaming around happily or preparing for the life which is yet to come.

After his death, at a Hall function, the Hall President of Hostel Two (Satti at that time) requested DOSA to light an Agarbatti at a hand made portrait of Bikka. This was our idea of remembering him and praying for him. DOSA did that but later he said very angrily that he wasn’t ready for this and he or the Wardens, I don’t know, said that the act was done as if Bikka were a Martyr and were furious about it.

He was a weak person for those we believed he committed suicide. For us he was just a friend whom we used to tease whenever we got a chance and he would just smile at that…always. He wasn’t a Martyr. Why do you need to be a martyr to be remembered?

I just buzzed a few friends, common or otherwise, about the fact that he died today and the replies were:

1. Not the date though. Chalo Chalein MT.

[On saying that this was the date:] Yaad nahi thi mujhe. Hmm…I really don’t know what to say. I hope he finds peace. Chalo MT chalein. Ho aaye kya?

2. Hmm [and then fifteen minutes later he buzzes again and:] Indian, Indian, what did you die for? Indian says, nothing at all.

[I ask him what the hell he means. He says:] Nothin’…the futility of death…of someone ‘they’ don’t care.

[I ask him who are 'they' and he says:] Anyone…the society maybe…the authorities in this case. How long has it been?

[I remind him that it's been two years.] Two years? Okay…

3. Ohh! Any thing happening? Kuchh ho raha hai ? [He means something to remember him. And on further chat:] Kaun yaad rakhta hia yaar?

[I say then that life moves on et cetera, he agrees and...]

Khair, sone jaa raha hia kya? Lakshya dekhni ho to aaja.

4. Is it a question or reminder? Saw it on your status…to yaad aaya [I had put it on my status: Life moves on...but still...miss you Swapnil ]

[He wants a book: What do you care what other people think? by Richard Feynman and so just after the above:] Book mili? [I tell him no, so:]

5. Haan yaar. I saw your status message… was just thinking about it.

[I tell him that I couldn't help but buzz and he says:]

Haan yaar. I am sorry, I was late to respond. I was in toilet, but thinking about him.

[And with this guy I had a chat for half an hour in which we discussed a case of attempted suicide in our batch and then discussed medical complications with a girl in our batch and the fact that the former had actually sent an SMS to latter before the attempt.]

6. Kya be placement chal rahi hai and tu aisi khabar suna raha hai.

[I tell him that it's no more a khabar. He says:] I mean Yaadein. [ I apologise and close the chat window]

7. Aise yaad nahi tha, but now I do.

[Then he sends me his latest story about his two crushes and:] You got to read it now and feedback chahiye fir. Though I know you will enjoy reading it kyunki tujhe dono ke baare mein sab pata hai.

[He puts a smiley. I start reading the story transferred via Google Talk. It has an Emily Dickinson poem to start with. I read her name: Emily Dick-in-son...and so I am already enjoying reading it.]

Life moves on, that’s why it is called life. It’s dynamic, ever changing. It has no place for the dead or the static. It flows and takes things in the direction it wants. The static things, the rocks in the way, they just get eroded – memories fade away. And there is no escaping this fact. There’s no life without accepting this. So I guess the people above, they are doing the right thing. Bikka is a person of the past. I am not saying that one should remember him always and be sad all the time. But somehow, still, in my heart, I feel bad. Should we forget someone this soon? Should we move on? What should we do? Or do we even need to do something, anything? And I feel as if I am writing this post and kept that status message just to show that I remembered him when I was pouring nicotine in my burnt out body at MT and was looking back at my life. Fuck!

Light was brighter and the flowers more fragrant when you were around Bikka. This was what I had written then, this is what I am writing today too. Rest in peace. Amen!

Arvind.

PS: After posting here, I buzzed Kavi and had this chat. I am not saying it cleared my mind but Kavi did say something that ringed a bell…

_________________

Arvind: Bikka died today

remember?

Sent at 8:45 AM on Friday

Kaviraj: ohh

dont remember

and that’s bad

we all shud remember

Arvind: haan shayad

pata nahi

life has moved on

Kaviraj: oh yaar

Arvind: I am confused

I am feleing [read feeling] bad and confused

nashta kar liya?

Kaviraj: matlab…kuchh karna chahiye shayad

haan

kar liya

Arvind: k

Kaviraj: sun

aaj hi hai na

??

Arvind: haan man

Sent at 8:49 AM on Friday

Kaviraj: at least we can put some status mssg

Arvind: yaar

maine lagaya tha

but

Kaviraj: or we all shud put the same

Arvind: fir laga jaise me show off kar raha hoon

bahut bura laga

that he was our friend

Kaviraj: na na

Arvind: and that he died

Kaviraj: thode time ke liye to lagana hi chahiye

Arvind: it si somethig [read is something] for us and us alone

but then

I dunno man

I am confused

may be as solidarity yes

but I will not ask anyone else to do so

just this: Bikke…rest in peace?

or what

i dunno

Kaviraj: dont be confused….it’s not good to forget someone so soon…

Arvind: yeah man

was just writing this on my blog

couldn’t help

Kaviraj: hmm

Arvind: you should read what replies I got from some of the people I told this about

but they have moved on

can’t blame them

Kaviraj: if i were dead and i was watching you all….i’d like you all to remember me once on this day

Arvind:

so what do we put?

Sent at 8:52 AM on Friday

Kaviraj: you are good at that part

i’ll copy it

Sent at 8:54 AM on Friday

Arvind: le

yahi samajh aaya

yahi pehle bhi likha tha

Kaviraj: ok

sahi hai

Arvind: chal yaar

so raha me

Kaviraj: ok

Arvind: man dukh gaya

bye

Kaviraj: sleep tight

Sent at 9:03 AM on Friday

Kaviraj: wet dreams

Arvind:

yeah
_________________

Life moves on…

Ball…ad !!

There was a girl who used to come here.
She had beautiful eyes, her skin: fair.

One day, she was passing through the corridor,
wearing her oh-so-beautiful chudhidaar,
singing a tune to herself…

There was a boy who used to live here.
He could’ve given a bear a run for its hair.

One day he took bath and came back all the same.
Wrapped in his oh-so-short towel, damn!
singing a tune to himself…

They looked at each other and…

 

She [shocked]: Whoa!
He [trying to hide his privates]: Uh-oh

 

Except for the parts covered by his oh-too-small towel…

 

He was soaking wet and stark naked
She looked at the amount of hairs (plural intended)

and…

She: Ehh…
He[trying to hide his privates]: Uh-eh

 

They looked at each other and didn’t know what to do,
when the boy suddenly remembered, the place was Hostel two.

Then…

His jaws tightened and so did his lips,
His resolve reflected in palm-digging finger tips.

 

Her face whitened, she didn’t know what to do,
If only she had realized, the place was hostel two.

And…

She: Huh?
He [trying to hide his privates]: Wuh-wuh!

 

It took him a moment but he knew what to do,
when the boy suddenly remembered, the place was Hostel two.

 

He [running towards the girl, his towel flying like superman's cape]: Aaaaa…
She [scared to death and running away from the boy]: Aaaaa…

 

The girl vowed she will do what she has to do,
But never in her life would she go back to Hostel two.

Me [enjoying the visualization of this scene,
if only I had been here then]:

They say it happened here. Who knows, they might be right.
But run now, sonny jim! Me from Hostel two, me might bite.

Yours Truly

Kanpur mera sasuraal!

This one happened during the vacations. I was talking to my gran and sisters over the phone. After I had talked to my sisters, the phone was handed over to my grandmother. Now you have to understand that she is obsessed with the four of us: two sisters and two brothers. While she sees or at least talks to the three of these four regularly, I am the one who is left out because I am at college and am supposed to be studying [which I occasionally do] and so I am not to be disturbed. So when I come home and talk to her over phone she pours in all the good words in a single go. Anyway I will describe the entire conversation here.

Me: Pranam Naaniji
Gran: Khoob khush rah, Khoob sukhi rah, Khoob Unnati kar, Din dogni raat chaugooni Unnati kar, Tu kaisa hai, kab aaya, Teri yaad aa hi rahi thi… [and then...it came...out of the blue]

Raaja bano to hume jaana na bhool…jhoole me jhool lalaa jhoole me jhool [Yep gran, IIT is doing this to me],
chanda sa mukhda gende [Hindi name for a flower which I am not. Not to be mistaken with Hindi name for Rhinoceros which I am] ka phool [Chanda sa stuff applies more to my tummy now, shape-wise that is, thanks to Hall 1 canteen].

[...and even more randomly now]

Dhan tatri bhai dhan tatri, Naana ki dadhi moonchh kaun katri

And several more blessings and malwi two liners later…

Me: Me mast hoon ekdum, kal raat me aaya. Aap kaisi ho?
Gran: Arey apan bhi mast hai ekdum. Dekh to tona [now that is my nickname] aajkal me bhi kavita likh rahi hoon [Maaaa...this goes in the family, trust me...and she starts]

Naak chapti rang kala ya khuda tene [read tooney] kya kar dala.
Me: Hey bhagwan…Yeh aapne kiske liye likhi hai.
Gran: Soch soch [and she starts giggling like a twelve year old girl which she was about 60 years ago].
Me: He he he…unko bataya aapne…chidhe nahi woh?
Gran: Maine pehle hey bhagwan likha tha. Unhone Ya khuda karvaya [My Grandad rocks at Urdu and other stuff]
Me: Waah naani waah. Chaap [IITK lingo. Couldn't help it then] diya aapne.
Gran[Amitabh learned this from her]: Haayein?
Me: Eee… Kuchh nahi.
Gran/Me: [censored because in this part she asks me about my studies. So just when I thought she is in her twelve year old girl role, she becomes the strict teacher which she was for over 50 years]

[And after a few moments...]

Gran: Tu aa jaa re ek-do din ke liye Indore. Tere ko dekhna hai mujhe. Tu aayega phir apan mil ke gayenge [Yo man! She's back] Dhanne dhanne re Ingrez thari… [and both of us start laughing and then she started on the part that sort of...amused me I would say]

Dekh aa ja phir tu sasuraal vapas chala jayega…

Me[could have given the chhora ganga kinaare waala a run for his paan] Haayein??
Gran: Arey Kanpur tera sasuraal hai na. [He he he]
Me: Naani…he he he…kya aap bhi

[All right. I am uncomfortable here. Why? There is a girl in my batch and department who is from Kanpur. Rest is obvious. Gran obviously doesn't know this though. Vaise us bandi ko bhi junta Naani hi bulaati hai ]
Gran: Chaap diya naa…
Me: Haayein??! [What the hell! She's gone crazy]
And then after promising her that I would come sometime soon…we called it a day. By the way, that Sasuraal thing rocks man

Yours Truly

Bachaoo…

For a long time now, my ambience has been infected by girls of a particular name:Neha. I have seen several Nehas and am fed up now because of one reason or the other. come on girls you can have other names. Anyway there is a friend of mine:Nikhil. This guy fell for a girl [who else] Neha. And whenever he talks to me, he keeps Nehifying me because he knows how much I ‘love‘ Nehas [:(]. For example if he wants to say: Sahi hai yaar, he would say: sEhi hai yaar. Or: Nahi hai yaar will get replaced by nEhi hai yaar. And similarly several other nehified phrases. This happens almost every time we chat. However THE blow came today and the chat has been put up below with minor modifications:

Nikhil: Mere bhai ki shadi ho rEhi hai
Me: Arey sahi. [Fearing impending doom] Please…please…bhabhi ka naam Neha nahi hai. Please yeh bol de.
Nikhil: [:)]
Me [dying?]: Kya? Oh no!
Nikhil: [:P]
Me: Teri…[abusive language]
Nikhil [with sadistic pleasure]: hahahahhaa
Me[Pleading]: Unhe bol naam change kare.
Nikhil: hahahahahha
Me: Abe ravan ke baap.
Nikhil[really now, like Ravan]: hahahhahaha
Me[fearing the worst]: Kya naam hai bhaabhi ka sahi bata.
Nikhil: sEhi me be…Neha
Me: boo hoo hoo
Nikhil: Second name is Kothari.
Me [I hadn't given attention to second name thing]: Kab peechha chhootega mera Neha-o se
Nikhil: Neha Kothari
Me[ Nearing a heart attack]: Kya??!! Kya ?? Arey [abusive language]…

God can be cruel [:P]…
Yours truly.