Train-ing Days (My College Trip)

I was reading something about trains on one of the blogs I follow and it reminded me of the few memorable train journeys I have undertaken in my life. Here's an account of the most memorable one I have had so far:

It was the year 2001. A teacher in a college in Bishnupur, Shillong was having a discussion with the BSc. IInd year students about a study tour and where they would like to go. Several names popped up; some quite far-fetched, considering the budget constraint. The students feared they would end up going to the neighbouring state like the batch before them. Most had not even ventured out of the small state so they wanted to make the most of the opportunity and travel far and wide. Few places were short-listed. Andaman was the most exciting among them. As days passed and teachers were having meetings among themselves and with the principal, the signs of a neighbouring visit seemed more and more evident. Then one day the teacher came in and announced that the principal has finally agreed. However, Andaman has been ruled out. The students were disappointed to hear this. Then she added, we are going to Chennai and Bangalore. Everyone cheered up. But there was a tiny problem - instead of the earlier amount the students would now have to dish out Rs 3500-4000 each. After talking among themselves they all agreed to it.

Soon followed a journey which is etched in my memory and which has become a milestone of my growing up years.

We went on a sleeper class reservation and it took us a little over fifty hours to reach Chennai. After spending two days in Chennai we headed for Bangalore and reached there at night. The following night we were on our way back to Guwahati. It was a study trip in principle but in actuality it was anything but that. We went on tours in both the cities, visiting all the tourist hotspots. Luckily for us some of them had affinity with our purpose of visit as well. Like the time when we went to see the zoological park (since the trip was organised by the Zoology Department) or when we visited the science museum.

The first thing that got us super-excited was when we, for the first time in out lives, saw a beach. One of the many reasons why we were so charged up about the trip to begin with. We visited two beached in Chennai - Golden beach, which was part of a theme park and the famous Marina beach. We ran to the shore, getting our feet soaked in the water, running after the waves, splashing water at each other. We took lots and lots of photographs. There were very few people at the Golden beach. The reason might be that entry is not free or because it was a hot afternoon when we went there or maybe both. But Marina beach was full of people, from families on an outing to couples walking together, from groups of friends chilling out to health-conscious joggers.

The tides were much higher at the Marina beach. It was intimidating. Only few people were in the water. Most were, like us, standing far behind waiting on the wave to hit the shore. There was an empty coconut shell floating on the water. It found its way to the shore and soon enough an impromptu football match began. Our teachers joined in as well. It was surprising to see ma'am M.K.K. and J.D. in such spirit. We couldn't picture them to be fun at all from what we knew of them in the classroom. It was a welcome change and we had a great time playing together.

But the most fun had to be the train journey. The train became our world for a few days and we were living it up in there - visiting each other's compartments like neighbours, striking up conversations with fellow travellers, singing and playing card games together or just looking out the window watching the world outside as we pass them by. We still talk about the time when someone found a cockroach in her egg curry and swore off the train food. Or even the time when us boys were running for cover when news about eunuchs boarding the train reached us. It wasn't new to me since I had gone on a train journey but my friend was terrified by the idea and covered himself from head to toe in a blanket on the upper berth. I was hiding on the berth opposite him. It was hilarious to see him holding on to his blanket and pulling his legs in when one of them grabbed him by the feet. Ultimately they gave up and went around for some other targets. We have a great laugh about it whenever the topic comes up.

On the last day of our trip in Bangalore while riding back to the youth hostel, we were at first laughing and singing along with the music. By the time we were just few minutes away from the hostel, there was a silence in the bus. Most of us were staring out the window, a sense of melancholy taking over us.

That night we all had our dinner together at the hostel mess. All the seats around the long rectangular table were occupied. Somebody aptly remarked that it felt like it was our own 'last supper'.

It's been years since the trip. Since then, life has led us to many different places. Most of us have lost in touch with each other, only few still remain known to me to this day. Others grew far apart in time and in distance. As I think about the trip now, recalling and reliving those moments, I can't help but wonder somebody somewhere else might just be remembering those fun times as well.

Hopeful New Year!

One more year comes to an end. Another year is dawning in just over a few hours. And there are so many things going on in my head. What do I expect from this coming new year? What do I expect from my life and from myself in the coming year? At first I had thought of making a list of my new year resolutions but I opted not to. It is pretty depressing when things don't go the way we want them to. It will be miserable when it's a list of things you had set out to do from the beginning.

More than expectations, I have hope that I will be able to become more of me and less of how I think I ought to be. More beliefs and less doubts. More conviction and less fear. That's what I hope for the most. To be able to be honest with my feelings and my thoughts and show them not just feel or think them.

It's already few minutes past midnight. My hopes are being born as the year grows by the minute. Hoping to have a Happy New Year!

Rain: Return Of An Old Friend

When it used to rain before, we would not know. We lived in a concrete building and if we were inside our rooms with the curtains pulled down on the windows we would not know when it rained. So, most of the times the clothes hung outside to dry would have to wait a long while getting soaked all over again. And we missed several opportunities of playing in the rain because we would not be able to hear it fall. The paper boats were saved from drowning in the make-believe river of the backyard drain, sailing through a heavy stormy weather. The dry and recently washed clothes we worn would take a heavy sigh of relief every time we missed the rain. Having been soaked for hours in cold/hot water then being beaten about on the cemented floor and hung out to dry, they favoured being warm in the closet and feared being worn by us. They dreaded the moment someone opened the closet, praying hard they were not picked. Some had tough luck, becoming our favourites, we would wear them umpteen times till they turned pale and their threads came loose. They had to undergo stitches several times and would always end up getting dirt-faced. They feared rain the most and so it was a matter of great relief when we missed the rain. They hated being damp and wet.

Then we moved to a tin-roofed house and even a slight drizzle would alarm us. We were out and about in an instant gauging the rain and if it wasn’t too heavy we would leave the clothes be. If it rained heavy, we would free them from the clutches of the clips and gather them all inside. In a really heavy downpour most of the clothes would end up getting wet no matter how quick we were. We would in turn get wet as well. It would not stop us from venturing out onto the verandah to feel the rain fall on our palms and if we were game enough, we would get all soaked, dancing in the rain. Sometimes in our excitement we would forget about the slices of radish or pieces of amla left to dry atop the roof and they would spitefully turn out to be not-so-good achaar once they were dried up, spiced up and bottled up.

However, for most part they were all happy, the clothes and everything else since we lived under a tin-roof. The problem was with us because we would start thinking it was raining on hearing the slightest of sounds resembling the rain.

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We did not resist the rain then. We took it as it came. No great surprise or worry succeeded it. Then the inevitable happened. We all grew up and the excitement of the rain slowly faded away with the years we added to our lives. We ran from the rain most of the times – running for a dry shelter and even if the shelter was long way away and we were bound to get wet, we'd still keep running, shielding ourselves with a notebook or a plastic bag or even a handkerchief! Oh! We really didn’t like the rain I guess. At least that was what the rain felt, who had just dropped by to give us a childhood greeting. But we were growing up or already grown up and forgot about our childhood friend.

Years later when most things had changed and I yearned for something old and something familiar, something to help me retain or regain the lost days of the yore, I found I had lost most of it to the heat of life. Pretty soon I realized I had lost so much more than a few rainy days or fun-plays in the sun. Then in the evening of a rather warm day it rained, first slow then heavily. I did not resist it. I soaked myself in it, reveling in the memories of all the days lost and gone, shedding tears for all those lost and gone and smiling in the return of a childhood friend who gave me warmth in his wet embrace. I do not resist the rain anymore.

When I Met An Old Friend

To meet an old friend is always a pleasure, especially when you have gone through a lot in life with the same person. They have seen you in your good times and your worst as well. They have been there for you and you have been there for them. So, a meeting with such a friend is always a heartening experience to say the least.

Today I met with a dear friend who has been through a lot in life much as I have been in mine and have seen each other in our worse of times. Today too is no better a time in our lives. I have my own set of problems and he has his. And we are at an age where most of our counterparts have already found their footings and are excelling at whatever they are doing. Our trials have been tough. Our success minimal. At the end too much time invested with too little outcome/success to account for while time keeps a tab of the passing years on our faces and greying hair on our scalps.

The sense of responsibility never leaves our minds. And this is one reason why there has not been much of a risk taken by him on his part. He had trodden carefully and calculatingly. Somehow in his own words, the ‘bad luck’ phase of his life still seems to be continuing. For most part, things look promising and all efforts are in place from his side but some other things which are completely out of his control puts an end to his dreams.

Even though I too feel the sense of responsibility I have taken decisions more freely and taken a lot of risks being the ‘child’ in the family. A doting elder brother and an always supportive elder sister eased my risky ways. The problem now is the fact that I have not been able to turn the career risks I have taken into anything worthwhile. I am still in this phase but what gives, even if a little solace is that I have been doing some of the things I greatly enjoyed doing. The thing is I could have done them without playing the ‘Brave-heart’ ( or fool-heart??!).

There are thoughts and ideas running in both our heads. We can talk about how to do those things. We can talk about how it can be executed and what all formalities or procedure we need to follow. The problem, however is if at all it will work out and will we be able to take any more chances now? I can see him achieving what he dreams of. He has always been a hard-working guy with his head placed firmly on his shoulders. He just needs the right time and there will be no stopping him. I am, like always, doubtful of myself and my big ideas. Let’s see how things go for both of us.

Fighting The Cold And Dampened Spirit

Everything seems cold and damp here. Most things are cold and damp here. The walls are damp and cold, the splash of rain it faces all day long. The clothes hanging on the hangers and those inside bags and in the closets are cold to touch and feel wet no matter how dry they are. The books, the papers and the notepads are not crisp to touch anymore. Even the slightest of touch leave a deep impression. How sensitive they have become! The chill in the air can be felt at any time of the day. The nights are much colder if spent without the shield of the blankets. The mornings are an exercise in tolerance. The ‘freezing’ water test the endurance of the warm-blooded human being. The afternoons are sunless and gloomy for most part with dark clouds hovering in the sky threatening to come falling down at the slightest agitation. The evenings are clear and breezy. But the cold wind leave so less to be enjoyed of the fine evening walks. In such a cold and damp weather, the spirits are bound to be dampened as well. But if you have a fighting spirit nothing can really dampen it at all. I guess I am carrying a little sunshine from a hot and humid land afar.

Today I saw ‘Marley and Me’ again. It made me cry all over again.

The first time I saw the movie was at one of my closest friends’ place. I would more often than not stay over at his place and we would watch a movie or two till the wee hours of the mornings. On this particular night, he slept early and I, having difficulty sleeping even after talking till late hours, decided to watch some movies on his computer. I remembered he had told me few days earlier that he had downloaded the movie. I had planned to watch it when it came to the theaters but missed it. So, it was ‘Marley and Me’ that night.

I love pets; especially dogs and cats. For the past few years I had been staying away from my pet Max, whom I literally raised from a tiny puppy. He wasn’t as naughty as Marley but he did give me quite a few headaches while growing up! I missed him dearly that night. Almost everyone in the family fond of pets had moved out and I knew that Max would be missing us a lot.

I loved the movie, not just because it was a simple and heartwarming tale but for the fact that it treated Marley as a being, a member of the family, rather than just another animal. The conversations were real and the interactions between the characters and Marley were real. Watching the movie, I went back to the times when I was alone at home with Max. I would sit with him on the courtyard at night when we could not sleep. I would stare at the stars shining above us in the clear sky, putting my arms around Max. I would talk to him and share my doubts and my fears and tell him how much I loved him. Those were difficult times for me. Mother wasn’t keeping well for few years, especially during those months when she had to be taken to a bigger city for her diagnosis. Dad and sis had accompanied her. Brother was already living in the city for few years at that time.

Today when I watched the movie again, I missed Max much more. During my last visit home I learned to my surprise (rather shock) that he had passed away. We weren’t informed. I was the first to know. I had not cried then. Not for a day or two. But late one night unable to sleep, when I started thinking about him, tears just rolled down my cheeks. I cried for a long time. I cried myself to sleep.

I had missed Max, felt his absence when I first saw ‘Marley and Me’. This time it was the realization of the fact that the absence was incurable and I would not be able to see him, touch him or pat him again. When I look at his pictures, I see so much of love and so much of pain in those big eyes. I wish I was there for him during his last few days. I don’t know if I could have been of any help at all, but I would have certainly wanted to be there. But now he must be getting all the love he missed from mom. She had a special bond with all the pets we had, whether it was Ruby or Jumbo. But now, she would be well guarded and taken care of by them and they in turn would be unconditionally loved by her.

‘A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water-logged stick will do just fine. A dog doesn't care if you’re rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he'll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary?’

- quoted from ‘Marley and Me’

Max really did make me feel extraordinary. He made me feel alive and breathing. He made me feel truly loved. And he taught me a lot more than I could ever do with all the tricks I tried so hard for him to learn!! He was special and he made me feel special. I love you, Max.

Lessons From My Sister's Flower Garden

I am sharing a post from my new blog about learning lessons from my sister's simple wish from me that I paint her a flower garden. This simple complicated task taught me few things I should have ideally remembered all along. The blog is written like a conversation with my mother, so 'you' in the post is referred to her.

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I re-discovered the essence of always trying and not giving up no matter how impossible or how unbearable or how different things turn out in the process. I figured that if you still have even a small fraction of your vision with which you set out to do what you are in the process of doing, it will turn out just like you thought and sometimes even better once you keep moving ahead with it. Perhaps I had to learn this in the simplest of tasks I did recently.

Remember mom when I told you about the painting that sister wanted me to draw for her - a garden full of flowers. Well, I attempted it, formed the base, painted some flowery shapes. It looked very promising in the beginning and I was already happy with myself for at least setting out to do it rather than giving up before even trying, which I had been doing for some days already. Once I began to put in the details of the garden, I found myself hating the very sight of it. It did not look real or even close to a fake garden! I detested the very sight of it. I did not wish to go on. But I did. I don't know why but I kept on adding and trying out things. I did take few moments to just look at it and wish I had not done some things, not added certain colour or tried certain shapes. Yet I continued, experimenting and trying out things to make the shapes look like flowers. Once the flowers seemed real enough, the base started looking unrealistic. The flowers seemed to be plainly pasted. Still I continued; added some colours and tried different brush strokes.

As I was beginning to see the end of how it would finally look, I was as happy as I could be. I saw that my vision was coming true. And in fact no flowers looked as good as these in a garden that once was my hateful obsession. It was then that I realised, that when we set out to achieve our dreams we are very hopeful in the beginning but with time we begin to see no point in it and start detesting our own dreams when we look at the unfinished picture. We have dreams but we fail to see that our dreams from the time they are born undergo a metamorphosis going through stages of development which may not appeal to us, even frighten us at some point in time. It should not stop us from continuing on our walk towards achieving them. The believe in our vision should always be there. And we must keep on going. Only then are we able to see the butterfly of our dreams coming to life and taking flight.

I love you mom for showing me this through sister's what seemed like a childish and an improbable wish for a flower garden!

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The following is a link to the post in original in the aforesaid blog:
SISTER'S FLOWER GARDEN