After rain comes sunshine

After rain comes sunshine, just as winter always turns to spring
But the spring blossom depends on how well we are able to use the winter
I guess I have learnt to brave the winter, and it was finally time to greet spring.

So true! Life’s happiness depends so much on how we have utilized our “problem phase”. Well, who has got a problem free life?? But certainly, there are times when we go through so much that, it seems nothing can be set right and all the advice we get to sort out things seem so useless. But believe me, it’s not that difficult. You just need to compose yourself, wipe away the tears that have stained your pillows, feel the soothing splash of water against your face, and then look at yourself in the mirror and smile. You will certainly realize that all that “went wrong” was so silly. Then one final step towards happiness – get out of your capsule and embrace the joys knocking at the door! It works….

Just scribbling...

I am in college in my Project lab, absolutely jobless. I have tried out everything to utilize my time. I went to the library and after a long wait of 10 minutes, issued a VB 6 book. Checked out if there was a net connection at my terminal and was immensely elated when I saw Google opening. So first I open the Infy campus connect site and go through the study materials…too uninteresting. Consider checking my mails…I have already done that in the morning. Now, I am struck with a better idea…Read blogs!! I ask Ananya to try out Subhankar’s last post (not sure if she would form some opinion about him but quite sure she’s gonna form some kind of opinion about me. But now, that I see her laughing, I am feeling so relieved!!) and I start reading Amitabh’s blogs. He took a train from Paris to London which passed through the CHUNNEL, the Europe tour has come to an end and he’s returning home, he has asked Jaya to apologize for her unintended comments which hurt the sentiments of the Maharastrians. Now after too much of this reading of blogs and Bachchan stuff I am really getting bored. Right now, discussions on the much talked about experiment, the LARGE HALDRON COLLIDER, that would take place in Geneva at 12o’clock, is going on. Ananya is listing the benefits, if we die(the news says the experiment might prove too dangerous destroying everything)… “No Campus Connect classes, No codings for our project” and when I say we won’t be able to chat in the evenings, she says “hum upar chat karenge . No net bills and net problems”. But as I join her in planning out our”life after death”, Alok says, if the experiment fails, we won’t die at once; it would take a few months. All the fun is over :-( Then I overhear the boys talking about F1. Sounds interesting!! My quest help me find that the next race is taking place this Sunday at Monza, Italy, the race begins after a countdown of 15 minutes, and there are 5 lights each of which goes out successively in the last five minutes of the countdown, and there are some sixty to seventy laps in a race and etc. etc. Now these stupid guys are not entertaining any more of my questions. So ultimately I get back to studies (which I had been avoiding for the past two hours) and decide to help out Ananya and Veronica with VB. I assist them in doing a program to add two numbers and finding out the codes to run a program with multiple forms. It’s around 12o’clock and Vandana ma’m, our project in-charge steps into the lab(our classes start at 9:45am and our project faculties are just too punctual and that’s why we have strict orders to be in the lab by 10am). After her tour of the lab checking each students terminal, scolding everyone who’s using the internet for things other than their projects, thank God she feels like taking the attendance. I am glad this useless three hours has come to an end. All of a sudden “mere dimag ki batti jali” and I decide to turn this scribbling into a post for my blog so that my current frequency of one post a month increases :-)

My teachers

It has been long since I have left school. But every year , this particular day, brings to me a feeling of nostalgia and I miss some of the most beloved persons of my life, my teachers. So today I decided I would be writing about these wonderful people, who have always adored me and have always made me learn something new, who have always influenced my life and have somewhat moulded me into the person I am. So here I am, sharing some of my “crack-jack” moments with my teachers.
Nursery: I don’t remember my nursery teacher’s name. But I still bear in my mind her green eyes, her beautiful face and her giving me sweets from her lunch-box when I would get restless and would start crying to go back home.
Kindergarten: I went to Rourkela after nursery and joined this school named Wonderland. What I remember about this school is my checked shirt and brown skirt uniform, some of my friends (who might have forgotten me), and my principal, Mrs. Sehgal. She was a Punjabi lady, with perfect English, and her grey hair maintained in a boy-cut. Mrs. Sehgal loved me a lot and had gifted me a kitchen set, for getting through all the entrance examinations I had appeared to get admitted to Std. I.
My next school was Ispat English Medium School, Rourkela. I studied there from Std. I to Std. III. I don’t remember all the teachers, but there are some who I can never forget.
Mr. Chauhan: He was my class teacher in Std.I . Taught us Hindi and was our games teacher as well. Mr. Chauhan was very dark and carried a Rajput style thick moustache. He was a good teacher no doubt, and was equally skilled in games, and was able to rotate a football at the tip of his index finger(which I have been trying since then but have never succeeded ).
Mrs. Behera: my Mathematics teacher in Std.II, who had made me kneel ‘coz I had not done my homework. But that’s what has made me remember this strict old lady all these years.
Mrs. Pati: she was our craft teacher. She taught us those lovely wall hangings, and greeting cards. All the “silai-kadhai” I know, have been taught by her.
I joined Stewart School in Std IV. I have spent seven years in this school and have literally grown up here. So there’s a strong sense of attachment to this school and its teachers.
Barren Sir: My Maths teacher in Std. IV. He was a great man who, I guess, had never said a harsh word in his life. Other than his being a good teacher, the reason I liked him was that, he resembled my dad in his looks. But two months back when I got to know about his sudden demise, I felt as if I have lost some precious possession.
Ruma Miss: She used to teach us English in Std. IV. Ruma Miss was everyone’s favorite and I was her favorite. She used to give us gold and silver stars for getting full marks in the tests, which were always won by either Amrita or me.
Mandal Miss: Mandal miss taught us Oriya. My first experience with her was that she had punished me for tying my tie-knot in the class. But eventually I became her “ladli”. She loved me like her own child (she used to say that). She wasn’t liked by a lot of students for her tough attitude, but to me she was one of the best.
Amit Sir had the capability to turn the most boring subject, History into an interesting one. He was more like a friend (with whom we could share our deepest secrets comfortably), than a teacher. It had been around 7years since his death, but even today a shudder passes through me when I am reminded of his painful and untimely death(he was in his thirties). But he always possessed a special position in my heart and would always continue to do so.
Acharya Miss was my favorite. In spite of her old age, she possessed a lovely voice(she headed the school chorus). She was a very good teacher and used to teach us English in Std.V and History in Std.VI. Once she was asking us puzzles and I had answered them all correctly and quite fast too. She had suggested I should become a lawyer. I can never forget those lunch breaks when she would come to our class and sit with us sharing our lunch, singing “Jaane kahan mera jigar gaya ji”. When Amrita and I visited her two years back, she was elated to see us after so many years and stuffed us with all kinds of delicacies.
Daschoudhry Miss and Daschoudhry Sir: Miss taught us English from Std. VI to Std.VII. She was an absolutely no-nonsense lady who could make the class quiet by just tapping a pencil. Initially she always found problems with me and I used to feel we had some “pichhle janam ka dushmani” (they were always because of some misunderstandings). But she always liked me and wanted me to be a perfect person(I would thank her for her efforts). She was another person, besides my father, who made me fall in love with books. Daschoudhry sir was just the opposite of his wife. Very meek, who wouldn’t say anything even if we created limitless nuisance in the class. I last visited them two years ago and had talked a lot with them, but never felt like visiting their home after Miss passed away the same year.
Ambrose miss was nicknamed terror. She indeed was. But she was very good at heart. A perfect disciplinarian, who would make us tear pages from our Bio practical records and make us write the same thing again, if we ever made the slightest mistake. I was her favorite amongst the girls and even I liked her a lot.
Tripathy sir and TB Biswal Sir taught us Computers. I was their favorite as I was very good at that subject. Tripathy sir used to call me “the shining star” of his class. TB Biswal sir, who used to punish everyone at the smallest of disturbances, never even raised his voice on me, though I used to disturb a lot in his class making noise and perpetually turning back and talking.
Well, this blog had already extended to 3 pages of a Word document and I guess would never end if I don’t force myself to stop. But I would like to say one thing… Teachers you would always be in my heart and I, at your feet.

For the love of colour and light...

“I read Von Gogh’s biography in two days.

And learn more about the mysteries of my own life than about his. All the things that have never made sense to me before—why I never feel comfortable when I m with the ‘in’ crowd, why I always stick up for the underdog, why I don’t lust after the things that make most of my friends happy, why the evening sky has made me feel melancholy and lonely for as long as I can remember, why certain songs have a heart-tearing effect on me—all of these suddenly become clearer.”

These are the words I borrowed from the novel I am currently reading—First Darling of the Morning. I felt as if these are the words describing me… and after reading trough half of the book I had the same realization as Thrity(the protagonist of the novel)—I have long been a misfit in this world of ‘sane’ people. This book has actually made me ‘learn about the mysteries of my life’.

Once someone asked me to follow my heart and I had replied that I do and as an example I said that I while away my time when I don’t feel like studying. But now I ask myself, “is that all what I would call following my heart? Am I enjoying the freedom of obeying my heart reverently?”. The answer comes as a big NO. The reason – I have been taught the ‘virtue’ of abiding by the apparent norms of the society and these preaching have their root so deep inside me that I can’t just get away with it even though I want to and I am forced to do certain things that my heart rebels against…

Why do I behave myself when I actually want to do something crazy? Why do I dress soberly when my I in-fact want to wear something a bit sexy? Why can’t I just go to the near-by restaurant-cum-bar and try out some liquor and why do I heed about what the people around me would think if I do that? Why can’t I just spend my holidays doing nothing , without letting mom interfere? Why can’t I just run away when my mom’s friends pester me to get ‘bejeweled’ when they know I hate staying dressed up all the time? Why can’t I just go about distributing money to every poor man I come across without having to worry about what my parents would say about it? Why can’t I go on with my notion of “The Godfather” being boring without everyone giving me a surprised look? Why can’t I continue living in my world of imaginations without being treated as some hideous untouchable creature by one of my friends who would not let me sit near her in the class because I prefer to remain lost in my own thoughts without going on babbling in the class?

Can’t I carry on with my own ways without getting hurt in the process? Can’t I be a bird without being the target of some merciless hunter?

Truly Ananya!!

Ananya, I am soooooooo sorry for writing this despite your pleadings for not writing, despite your endeavor to bribe me with chocolates!! Sweetie, your maneuvers failed :). I realized that these seminars and projects are going to demand so much of my time that I won’t be able to write this post later, so writing it today(sorry for that too). And I am sure you must be fuming now and must be feeling that I am a devil. Well, I am a devil, I agree, but a sweet devil, as you’ll soon realize :). Bahut ho gaya sorry-worry! Now let’s come to the point…So honey, do u remember the first time we pulled your leg? Remember, you were singing “machhar hoon main, louie mera naam” and Shreya and I started calling you Louie!

Guys, Ananya is my best friend. Ananya means unique and Ananya’s uniqueness is marked by her ability to turn out to be a comedienne without her realizing that she has said or done something droll. Nevertheless, we all friends have a big role in making her the “clown of the class”, whether it’s Chandan capturing her ‘bhashans’(speech)in his mobile phone and then playing them for everyone to see. Believe me, it’s really funny; it’s even funnier to watch Ananya chasing Chandan to delete those videos. Or when Abhishek sings the rap song ‘Piku Piku Piku…’(Piku is Ananya’s pet name) accompanied by dance steps borrowed from Darsheel Safari(Taare Zameen Par). Once we asked Ananya to walk up to the college bus and stand there. When she reached the place and saw us laughing like hell, very innocently she came to us and asked us what the matter was. Her reactions were worth seeing when we told her that the color combination of her dress was exactly same as that of the college bus J:)and burst out laughing.Ananya is also called ‘AB’. These are not her initials. There are two reasons for calling her AB. First she is a die hard fan of Abhishek Bachchan. Second she is very fond of playing Bingo. Confused?? Well AB stands for Ananya Bingo!! The best examples of the pranks played on Ananya are her notebooks. They enclose innumerable ‘masterpiece’ pen arts by her best friend(that’s me). This is all I can recall now, but soon I would be writing a sequel to this post :)(Ananya is going to kill me for this).

Hey! Ananya, actually you shouldn’t be pissed… Even you are a prankster. You haven’t forgotten the day I was caught laughing by Micro processor mam when she was extremely annoyed and the whole class was enjoying a sound scolding session, have you? And if you remember this then I am sure you even remember that it was you who had whispered something humorous and that made me giggle….

Certainly, by this time you must be giving a surreptitious smile, aren,t you? Imagine when you’ll join Infy and read this post won’t you be reminded of these wonderful days and won’t they make you feel nostalgic? So, now don’t you agree that I am a sweet devil? And you promised me a chocolate if I didn’t write this post. But now I deserve a Celebrations pack for all the effort I have put into this one.(I wrote it by candle light as current went away!). Tomorrow I won’t wear heels because I am sure you’ll be chasing me with a stick in your hand. :-)

Feeling sorry for the saree

Two days ago, a column in the newspaper said that western wear are gaining an edge over traditional Indian dresses. Yesterday, there was a column stating that none of the Bollywood actresses wore a saree to the awards function at Bangkok, rather they preferred gowns. Now when the westerners are borrowing from the rich Indian culture, whether it’s yoga, ayurveda or food habits, why are we running after western lifestyle? Why do we need to follow fashion trends from the west? Can’t we be the trend setters? Why have we forgotten that the nine yards of fabric, which identifies Indian culture is the only outfit having the potential to make any woman on earth look elegant. Sarees can let one flaunt those perfect curves. Sarees can help one hide those ugly flabs as well. Wearing sarees to work can be quite exasperating and this is when we can approve of western wears as a better alternative. But, when sarees paired with those fashionable halter-necks and spaghetti-straps and with a varied range of accessories, can make a lady look extremely hot and chic, do we need to replace this gorgeous and graceful dressing with evening gowns?

Two n half hours of pure fun!

My 6th sem exams didn’t go too well. Had it been any regular sem I would be spending the vacation worrying about my results. But now, that I have been placed in two companies, the sems are not a matter of concern, and I am completely relaxed. And this is what has made this summer vacation really enjoyable. Along with the relaxed mood what make the vacations more fun are my Java classes. 9am to 11:30 am. This is the best part of the day. Well before anyone starts drawing conclusions, I must mention that I don’t like studying. But studies can be fun when one belongs to a gang of six naughty girls,who are great examples of time-sharing systems!! Yes, whenever we get a minute or two between the lectures, our processors don’t remain idle. Rather they are devoted to complete our pending conversations! The regular fights with the boys for front seats and the conspiracies against them to occupy better seats, instills a feeling of adventure and excitement the moment one enters through the classroom door. If these reasons are not enough to make the lectures worth attending, then I must mention that we have a smart, charming and good-looking teacher! All this goes on upto 11am. This is when the class ends and the real ‘masti’ begins…Hurrying out of the class to sit under the shades of a tree enjoying the fiery orange blossoms of the gulmohur tree and chit-chatting with friends is what makes the next 9am much awaited!