The Thinking Me

My dear Indira Nagar street

Shubhangi — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 00:25:20 +0000

I have very strong associations with smell, associated events; they always remind me of something. The frosty smell of early mornings of winter, makes me feel sick at my heart. The constant stinking garbage smell, you could laugh, it comforts me! That boot polish smell, the weird dry smell, if it’s around, gives me a sense of care-free-ness. Smell of the freshly prepared aloo-chaat, the smell of the yellow turned pages of the old books, the fragrance of the flowers that amma used to put on her hair, they are clear and distinguishingly placed in separate yet binded columns of my head.

These form my most precious memories.

Well ofcourse, I remember other things too. Chikki, Monu, Vidi, Charu, we used to play, as happy as the free flying bees, with the only single doll we had. The doll’s name was kept chutty. It was actually a bottle that read “L-a-k-m-e moisturizer” on it and that Vidi had found lying near her home. With a saree stitched by amma to drape around it, it did more than perfect a job as our dear doll. I remember the smell that the bottle had still carried, of the cream. That smell became the smell I associate with joy, the joy of finding our own little doll, the one we had read about in our school books, D for Doll teachers said; now we had one, of our own.

Chutty was generally made to sleep out, behind the big stone in front of my home. It was already crowded . Amma, appa, anna and me, all fitting in the little space. When I learnt the different geometrical shapes in class third, I used to proudly tell amma that we live in a pyramid. I was the only one who could stand inside our home, it was after all a small pyramid. I enjoyed the privilege. The others came in just to sleep.

We were around 20 homes , stacked together, in minimum possible space; even the best space-utilization-algorithms couldn’t have placed us in a smaller area. Our colony was named ‘the slums’.

I had nothing to complain. I had amma, appa who loved me. I had school too. I was, as teachers would say, an outstanding student. There was a huge gate some distance away from our homes. It led to a place with birds and trees and colors and flowers. Whenever i went there, I always used to take the most pretty flower for Amma back home. The gate at the enterance read – International Institute of Information technology. I knew the individual meanings of the words then – International, Institute, Information and technology – separately. But not the combined meaning that came out when the words were put together! We used to go there for extra studies after school, tusions for maths and english. That place, gave me a comfort and a sense of belongingness. It was much bigger than my sweet pyramid home. Here there were no pyramids, but more of cuboids, much taller ones.

I grew among the smells , along with the children of the 20 homes and with the cuboidal buildings that grew faster than any of us. I don’t remember when exactly we forgot about chutty. After my school, I qualified for a scholarship, free education, at my dream place, IIIT.

Amma, appa still lived there, in the very same house. Anna too. When friends used to go to ‘cakes and more’ , I would stop by the street, behind the big stone, at my home and would play with the kids around. That garbage smell comforted me. That was the smell of my home. The boot polish smell was still there too. It came form anna’s clothes instead of appa’s shirts now. Anna had taken over the boot polishing job. Years passed, the fragrance stayed. Passed on, like the family legacy.

Sitting in the hostel room which was bigger than my home, I had made plans of how I would make everything change, how I would make it better for every child that lived on that indira-nagar street. That place was afterall my home.

I was so sure that I will make the difference, now that I had risen above!

******************************************************************

It is the alumni meet, today, at iiit. I am travelling to Hyderabad.

The smell of the air conditioning of the airplane reminds me of the foggy chilly mornings when we didn’t have enough clothes to cover ourselves. The cold used to make me sick. It doesn’t matter that I am well covered today. I can still feel the cold. In my heart.

It also reminds me of the wondeful plans that I had made to make my childhood home-place better. I am amazed how so wonderfully in my blessed life, I have forgotten about them!

I am sure again though. Sure-r. Now that I have returned, I shall remember. I shall finally execute my plans.

As I move out of the Hyderabad airport , Pia, my daughter is continuously pulling my hand and pointing towards a barbie store. She wants the new sports-look-barbie, with all the different dresses. I smile and take her to the store. We together select a doll for her.

******************************************************************

And I, yet again, forget about my solid plans of making the dear old Indira Nagar street better!
It still survives and breathes, along with the huge cuboids. So do the plans in my head, unexecuted!

Not completely random.

Shubhangi — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 22:03:04 +0000

Its 1:37 A.M by the clock.

Just came back to the room after a 3 on 3 Basket Ball game, girls against the guys, and yeah, we almost won(No pun). Total fun.

Rewind.

Around one and half hours back, I was shouting at everyone near and far, very irritated, since, one, I wasn’t able to decide the stupid Cognitive Science Term Paper’s topic which I was supposed to be by 12, two, I was still left with reading some 40 pages of the thesis as part of my Independent Study which I had planned to complete by today, three, was totally annoyed by the fact that people around me had nothing better to do than to reap their crop and make cocktails( if you are wondering where, go check out facebook ke stupid games, join in, they are in need of neighbours) whole day long!

So, though I had decided not to play Basketball till the exams get over, I just left everything hanging wherever it was(like a remote in my hand, pressed – pause) and went to the court Amazing one hour of playing and running around and the enjoying the feeling of satisfaction which comes after that one shot which goes in after so many such ones that had just rolled around it and fallen out.

Fast Forward.

Back to 1:37 AM.
(the “things-to-do” still hanging where I left them, still Paused).

What now? So much to do ,tomorrow – Networks class and day after tomorrow – exams and those deadlines !
But I toh want to write a blog , says me, my blog deserves my attention at least half-yearly . But what to write in there remains the question.

Doesn’t matter, lets begin!
So, I did, without a clue of what to write about. But as I reach almost the end of one page, I realize I do have written something even before deciding on what to write, and its not as random as it seems. I may have a point that could be conveyed.
Well ,talking to the point, the point is, you see, ultimately this time, this very moment and this very ‘feel’ of doing something, if it’s there, might never ever come back again. So no matter how busy we are in doing things which we are supposed to be doing, we must take time out to do things which we absolutely love doing, which are important to us and which make us happy without any ‘conditions apply’ . We must pursue things which we ‘so’ wanna do, but don’t because of reasons of various shapes and sizes. Got to remember that the opportunity might not ever come again. And missing one, will leave us regretting whole of our lives, trust me

So whether it be a wanting to play basketball when you are supposed to be meeting deadlines, or to write a blog when again you are supposed to be meeting deadlines; or the want to play stupid facebook games if it gives you pleasure; or may be the wish to look out of the window and enjoy the breeze or gaze at the stars, or that desire to have a chocolate cake; or to dance madly alone in your room or simply the will to study RFCs (just because you find it interesting) when no one else is doing it and thinks you crazy if you tell them you want to, all these things, just go ahead and do it , do it for your own self

I know, I know, it’s not a very nice thing to suggest just before the exams.

But, the thing is we may never be able to get time for these things which we actually want to do, until we take the time out. Our mind shall always tell us to do otherwise, the more logical way and that way may actually be the right one. All I want to say here is that lets take time out (well, its always advisable in the game , i wish we had taken more of them ) , take moments out of our own lives and grant those things that make us extremely delighted and give us satisfaction , a little time. Try all the things which we always wanted to (this line inspired by a friend, due credit to you) !
Because it is only these times, which we are finally going to remember , say some 30 years down the lane as our memories ( well, yeah, my Cog. Sc. Term Paper topic has to do with memory ) and are always going to cherish them and be happy about the fact that we actually gave ourselves the opportunity to make ourselves happy at least for sometime, without bothering about any , play again ,any thing else.

So , go ahead, dream on, and give you self the chance

Like I did today.

Its 2:36 Am, and i’m done !

Stay Happy,
Signing off,
Shubhangi

P.S 0: This might be a totally arbit and not-making-sense post, but I feel happy having written it. So, I don’t care
P.S 1: Sorry for the PJs in brackets, in case you managed to understand them. This was another thing I wanted to do, couldn’t resist the temptation of making those jokes
P.S 2: Good luck for the exams, if you chose to read it before they get over
P.S 3: Pause over!
P.S 4: In case you are wondering, then yeah there were two remotes here ( n in case u didn’t understand, then , never mind )
P.S 5: Phew! that’s a long post

Dedicated to dadi..

Shubhangi — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 11:56:45 +0000

जैसे ही उस दिन आँखें बंद कीं ,
यूँ ही अचानक् दादी माँ की याद आ गयी,
अभी बस होली गुजरी ही तो थी,
वही उनके साथ गाँव की हर शाम याद आ गयी ||

गर्मियों की छुट्टियाँ होते ही हर साल ,
गाँव भाग जाया करती थी मैं ,
दूर गली से मेरा इन्तेज़ार करती ,
उनकी आँखों की मुस्कान याद आ गयी ||

हर दिन को उनके हाथ का खाना ,
जो सबसे पहले खाया करती थी मैं ,
हर रात में मेरे लिए बिछाती थी जो ,
वो एक छोटी सी स्पेशल खाट याद आ गयी ||

ताश में काट्बोल खेलते हुए हार जाने पर,
उन्हें अक्सर चिढाया करती थी मैं ,
पर हारने से पहले ही cheating कर
उनकी पत्ते मिला देने की बात याद आ गयी ||

दिवाली के दिन जब पूरा परिवार साथ,
आँगन मैं बैठा होता था ,देखती थी मैं ,
भगवान् को शुक्रिया करती वो गर्वित हो ,
उनकी पूजा की खामोश फरियाद याद आ गयी ||

आँखें खोली मैंने तो कुछ उस दिन,
पानी सा भर आया था इनमे ,
आखरी बार जब देखा था उन्हें ,
उस कोमल से स्पर्श की अंतिम सौगात याद आ गयी ||

यूँ ही अचानक् दादी माँ की याद आ गयी||

P.S- I wasn’t very sure if I wanted to post this one, but since I was eager to get back to blogging but could not come up with anything to write on, and this one came just so naturally, so without thinking further i just posted.

I am A survivor

Shubhangi — Sat, 12 Jul 2008 05:11:14 +0000

Its a fresh and beautiful morning. I just had a walk and am feeling joyous n energetic as ever.

As almost everyday i m set to read the newspaper, just the headlines , treating myself with a cup of tea.

But today as I am reading , I somehow don’t feel like continuing.

My eyes have become moist and i m lying still in the corner of my sofa my arms and my legs folding up ,close to my chest as if trying to hug me.

My mind is blank , thoughtless.

Suddenly I hear some music, and I wake up from my daze ,my lips stretching to complete a smile,not forceful but natural.

Music always does this to me.

It is the music of the clock, indicating its 8.

My tea cup is now cold, as if dead.

I am getting late , I realize.

As I put the shower on the little drops of water pouring down, touching me softly .

I Love the soft touch, the tender touch, the touch that shows that it cares.

As i bathe, I look at the scratches. I see them everyday. They are glued to my soul.

I have learnt to live with(if not love) my wounds.

They don’t feel so fresh all the time as they are ,today , so green.

As I drive to office, the roads , the turns , the breakers , I feel are no different than my life.

I am unable to concentrate while I drive today. Otherwise I love driving. I love driving myself.

I love being self-dependant in every possible way I can.

I wish I always knew how to drive , may be then my life would have been different.

May be the darkest day of my life would never have come.

May be.

I am already at my desk in the office.

I am a workaholic. I love working. It keeps me busy , not allowing my mind to think of the parts of life that have been hard on me.

“Good Morning” , says my colleague . I smile back.

I look at her , I am no diff than her.

I am as confident and competent like her , as cheerful .

I have learnt to be be happy.

But there’s something that is not the same.

Something I dont want to accept.

The truth.

The truth, I am living with from the past 12 yrs.

I was raped.

I was raped when I was a child, merely 14 yrs old.

My school bus driver raped me.

But I am alive, I am a survivor , u know.

“Asha, where r u lost”, I heard someone calling me.

“This is the 5th time I shouted before u could here my voice. The boss is calling you” ,she said.

I stood up.

I have learnt to move on.

Its 5 in the evening and i m driving back home.

As I again look at those curves in my way I remember the headline in the newspaper today ” 5 YEAR OLD RAPED BY SCHOOL BUS DRIVER “

I was shatterd, disappointed and helpless.

I am unable to judge which is worse — knowing and realizing that you have been raped ,like me ,or this happening to you at an age when you even dont know what it is, like this child.

I drove to the sea-beach.

I wanted peace , calmness and strength.

Lying back, i closed my eyes , remebered my Lord, and prayed for the baby.

Not sure what to ask for her, the surviving spirit or death?

Cause as I live with my soul anguished and hurt , I sometimes think Death would have been better.

But I cant do that.

They, my parents, named me “Asha” .

I have to live upto my name.

I have to fight.

I am a survivor,u know.

मन हार मत

Shubhangi — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 15:21:00 +0000

There are times when you feel so low and everything around seems so dull, colorless , lacking energy and every other sentence spoken by every other human being around sounds negative. Such times you want to sit alone in a dark corner of your room, sitting by the window peeping outside, but looking inside into yourselves, trying to get some strength out of your own self . The enthusiasm you feel is lacking ,is lost, your heart yearning to find it from somewhere, from someone.

And in such times there is always an energy trying to burst out from within our souls, telling us to keep fighting, we being our own competitors, we being our own critics and GOD being our utmost dear friend.

May be in one of such times that i have faced, this is something my heart told me, to give me the power i was lacking, some day about two years back–

मन हार मत, मन हार मत, तुझे जीत की ओर है बढ़ना
मन हार मत, मन हार मत, तुझे ख़ुद से ही तो है लड़ना

मन जीत का फूल खिला उपवन में,
देख तुझे है मुस्काता
तू देख फूल को , समझ ले भाषा ,
अपनी ओर है तुझे बुलाता

तोड़ न उस फूल को तू
तोड़ते ही मुरझा जाएगा
बन भंवरा तू बैठ हृदय पर
फिर ही उसका रस ले पायेगा

मीठा हो या कड़वा हो ,मन लक्ष्य वही है तेरा
जिसका रंग सुनेहरा सा है, सोना सा चंचल सा

मन हार मत मन हार मत तझे कांटो से है लड़ना
पर कोशिश कर तू दोस्त बना ले, सीख ले काँटों पर भी चलना…

तो देख, खुदा है इंतज़ार में
तेरी जीत के इंतज़ार में….

क्यों घबराता है रे मन , जब खुदा की भी वही मर्ज़ी है
जो चाहत तेरी है …..!!!!

I read it smwhere–>

Great opportunities come to all,

but most people do not know they have met them,

for opportunities don’t come with their values stamped upon them.

Each day dawns ,quite like other days ,

in it a single hour comes ,

quite like other hours,

but in that day and in that hour ,

the chance of the lifetime faces us.

Thus , face every opportunity of life thoughtfully

and earnestly when they come,

whether open-faced or disguised.

True , life is a curve , the sinusoidal one , with curves that take you up and with curves that take you down. In the low times we work hard to reach to the upper side of it and as we reach up we slide down to the lower one .

This is a joy ride.

This is a joy ride, called LIFE

Haffun riding it

Pagalpanti bhi zaruri hai :D

Shubhangi — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 14:03:58 +0000

It is simply exciting
Writing a blog for the very first time .
I am not aware , whether I am getting into this blogging business inspired by Mr. Laloo or not but I am sure this long summer break that has been making me all the more lazy has very much to do with it !

I am quite terrified as well..
What if ma’m Marathe reads it..so many spelling n grammatical mistakes…But le’me dare to actually go about writing it !!!

It has been one complete year over of my college life now.
So here’s a look of what I have done in the past year

“Dedicated to we 5″

(The powerpuff pink )

I remember at 5 in the morning we reached the railway station and the first thing I noticed were the local trains standing still on the tracks, waiting in the dawn light.
My heart beating super fast, full of excitement. Just few minutes and I’l reach my college.
As the people-I mean we, the students and the parents were assembled in room no.119, my eyes were constantly doing jst one task–searching for girls. “are dere gonna b no girls??” the hall was full and in the rush of people I could hardly see girls.
Nd den I saw this girl wearing “thick dense” spectacles , looking like some bond n “ultimate” studious girl. Her name was Rini (lol)..Dat was the first time I met Bhatt, but dat wasn’t the first time Bhatt met me.. Because she was lost in the search for a girl from Kanpur whom she had met online. It was such a hype created that every girl I met later that day asked me “are u the one frm Kanpur? The one frm luck now is looking for you !!!” god I was relieved when I met Anika nd she finally told me that she was from Kanpur…!!! Finally I could meet the girl in demand.
MeanWhile we were roamin’ in the main building , when we met a bunch of people looking curiously at us n asking “freshers?? ”
Ah!! I said to myself this sounds cool… “we the freshers” !!!!
At our orientation program I recall the huge cheer made by the students when prof. Julu’s name was called out.. “ IS he a superb prof or what”, I thought..now I know..

We were allotted our rooms and dere was I disappointed in my mind-“-“only 2 northie girls nd bolth of dem (luck now-Kanpur)…ooh god mera kya hoga??”

But every day since den has been awesome , lovable nd cheerful. To join our gang came 2 girls frm rajasthan somu n dhi..
Whether it be the “interaction” sessions or the informal meetings with seniors ,or the late nite freshers practices , Saturday nite ke music dhamaal , or wrkspace main tension “mera bhi upload kara dooo”
It has always been that we 5 have always been stealing some time out for our unlimited masti..
Searching the raigistaans(the deserts remember?? ) together (:P), or dancing madly just before the itws exam , singing songs for dhi sooo loud , and roaming in the corridors at night like owls n asking “tujhe bhi neend nai a rhi??” waking each other up for the PT (anika n dhi , how do u manage? ) :O . Sitting on the bed in front of the water cooler , spending some “quality time” n sharing things n talking abt craziest things one ever can..
How can I forget to mention our DEN– “dhi n somu’s room”, hours would fly by n we all sitting in one room..dancing,singing idiotically ,talking abt gossips in the college, the new assignment coming up..n blah blah blah…arrey haan n asking “kuch khane ko hai?? “

Bhatt the bindaas , mature n awesome..(have had ma share of dhishoom dhishoom wid her though), dhi the petite smiling and caring, somu unnerstanding n hum sab ki baby (sab ki ) nd anika ma darlin makes the mausam awesome wid her super-duper flavored songs n phattas..
Though no body can beat ME in katli phattas,all would agree..

I have had a lovely time in the past one year, widout dose hugs u gave me in the time I missed my mum or the time u took me to loong walks when I was feeling low or the moments u made funny faces to cheer me up or the instances when you showed confidence in me, I wld not hve njoyd ma frst year at iiit as much as I hve.

In all rightly said– “thodi pagalpanti bhi zaruri hai”

Nd we have beeen a bunch of mad people left together nd we have simply had a blast last year.

Love u guyz

nd as bhatt taught us all –(mm……….hh)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sai Ram