My bucket list before college life ends!!

12 months in a year was the unit of time once. I never realized when it had changed to one year 25 subjects. Infinite submissions and cases later; I woke up one day to the fact that the sand clock had been turned and it was reverse counting  with 6 months till the journey came to an end.Though what might emerge at the end remains to be seen, this journey would not be quite as complete without the following items:

 The first and foremost item I wish to do with no chance of fulfillment is sleeping under the stars in the amphitheatre . What might be the reason for such a wish must be the natural question. The answer could only be evident to someone who had the pleasure of sitting there and experiencing a power cut. It is at such an opportune moment that I had looked up and discovered the beauty of the night sky above. The infinite stars and galaxies setting up stage for a grandiose night show for anyone who cares to look above the mundane.

The second thing I would like to do is to gift orderliness to the chechi who serves coffee in the academic block. At every class break she experiences a lot disorganized demands for coffee, noodles etc. coming in from random directions. One cannot help but wonder how she manages to hold that smile on her lips in spite of the mad rush every day. I wish to ensure that all of us stand in a proper queue and take our cups of eatables in an orderly manner and thus express our thanks to her. She has set unbeatable standards of professionalism in her demeanor and service and it is time we reciprocated the same.

Next on my action list would be the desire to make proper use of the innumerable story books available in the college library. I am an ardent fan of fiction and I have looked at them longingly for one and half years now. ”Busy life” in first year and plain laziness in second has so far been a hindrance and not allowed me to do the same. Given “enough” time, I would hole myself up in the library with a beanbag and read and read and read all of them.

My next wish might make the reader think that I am too daring even to think of it, but I would like to sit on the balcony of one of those glass walled faculty block rooms and stare out all day. Some of the valley facing rooms half suspended into nothingness provide a breathtaking view from up there and I firmly believe that it would be nothing short of heaven to spend a day on a comfortable chair in one of those balconies, pleasant music keeping you company, you favorite book on your lap and a cup of coffee every now and then .Atrocious – it might be, but that is the thing about hopes and dreams, you can step over your boundaries in them.

The next item in my list would be my SDP project implementation. Our project involved building up a self- sustainable framework whereby students and young professionals volunteer to teach under-privileged kids every weekend. The execution is stuck due to logistic and time management issues. Resources being no constraint, I would like to leave behind a working model where education is gifted to all irrespective of financial health or family support.

Enough of goody goody stuff; I do have the crazy stuff too. I would like to try my fate at dancing. People who know me, are well aware of the fact that I am not the dancing kind; I have two left feet so to say and parties are more of a “stand in a place and shake your head affair”. But given the fact that this is the last time I could try my luck at this, I would really like to.

I would also love to try my hand at doing a staircase art at Arjuna Path. As I write this down there is this niggling fear at the back of my head that it might not be as good and I might end up spoiling it; but then there is that voice inside my head that says “what if it turns out beautifully? “If there is one thing I have learnt in my MBA; that is to not leave the “what if”-s to chance and to try it if possible. Hence given the chance why not.

Last but not the least I would like to go for a road trip into the hinterlands of this beautiful place and explore. Though that is something I might do even after I have left IIM Kozhikode; but something within me reminds me that there is never a better time than NOW.

Here is my list of all the stuff I would like to do during my last few days in IIM Kozhikode. Some might appear rash; some too whimsical; but then there is my instinct telling me “if not now -when;if not here -where?” and that kind of sums it all up. To quote on the lines of Rang De Basanti “College di gate de is taraf hum life ko nachate hai ... te duji taraf life humko nachati hai”(on this side of college gate we make life dance to our tunes; while on the other side life makes us dance).So on the same spirit of trying everything; a person who has never been brave enough to send her writing anywhere decides to give her article to editboard. Funny things the last months  of college can do to you!

~~This article was written by me as part of a article writing competition...Since they seem to be taking a lot of time to judge it,I decided to publish it in my own blog...

A trip to Kannur

“One and half years had passed since I had stepped into Kerala and I had barely explored anyplace around”- This sudden realization led to a hasty plan to go on a tr^th October 2014.It was my journey on a local train after quite a long time and I was all set to make the most of it. The view outside the window itself made the journey worthwhile. The train rumbled through lush landscapes populated by coconut trees and banana fields. Rivers and water bodies peeped through the green canopy every now and then. A hut here, a farm there – Kerala seemed pristine, untouched by the harshness of industrialization and mechanization. The beauty increased manifold when it began to rain. The landscape looked magical through the hazy glass window as raindrops left a trail on their way down. One and half hours later we got down at Kannur.

We walked out and hailed an auto to go to the nearby St. Angelo’s Fort. Originally constructed by the Portuguese and later captured by the Dutch, St Angelo’s fort has its customary watch tower,chapel,cannons,grave stones et all . A climb along the steps took us to the top and the view there would leave anyone breathless. The blue of the sea mixed with the blue of the sky to form a continuous canvas. Here and there the land jutted into the sea as if to delay their separation for a little while and the coconut trees seemed to lean and reach out to the skies in celebration. It took us two hours to explore the place.

Our next destination was Arakkal Palace. It has a museum dedicated to the Arakkal family, the only Muslim royal family in Kerala, south India. It is in fact still owned by the Arakkal family and they get a token amount of money yearly for it even now. A noticeboard inside elaborated on the history and customs of the family. The family had a custom of the eldest member of the family being the ruler irrespective of gender which seemed very fair to me and I was amazed to notice such openness of mind 200 years ago. This just makes you wonder if it is so called modernization that takes us backward instead of forward in terms of biases and discrimination. The museum housed an array of items from vessels to court equipment and weapons to lamps from the Arakkal family.

When we emerged out of Arakkal Palace, it was lunchtime and all the walking and posing had made us extremely hungry. An auto ride to the nearest restaurant and we were slurping down our smoothies like thirsty travelers in a desert. One hour later we were stuffed and barely in any mood to move a muscle when one of us remembered that there is a beautiful church in Kannur. Hence 15minutes later we were a bunch of lazy grumpy ladies slouching our way to the nearest auto stand.

What followed was even more hilarious.None of the auto drivers seemed to know what a church was. So all our questions were returned with cold glares .Asking around helped to fathom that people there recognize churches to be Christian temples and that was the term we were expected to use.One part of the puzzle was solved but what awaited us was a maze ahead. When we asked people, we found that there were at least a dozen churches and none knew which the famous church is. A Google search on our mobile phones yielded nothing useful. Hence we asked in a few shops and finally one man guided us to a cathedral near “Baby Beach”[I am not kidding you about the name of the beach!!].He called an auto and gave the directions so that we could go to the church. In half an hour we landed in front of Holy Trinity Cathedral. The decorations inside left us awestruck. The church alter was decorated with paintings made of tiny tiles. The detailing and the perfection would leave you wondering about the dedication of those who did it. The glass paintings along the ceiling narrated the stories of Bible and the interplay of colors on the church floor reflected by these glass panes made their own pretty picture. The peace and quiet inside would make you wonder for a moment if the humdrum of the city had made us forget to listen to our inner voices. After the church we walked to the nearby beach and the sparkling waters and the dainty houses on the beach made a picture worth a thousand words.

Then we hailed an auto back to the station. There we sat 5 tired ladies on the station bench waiting for the train that would take us back to the familiarity of the mundane. We felt very happy and satisfied , yet we longed for the regular and could not wait to be back on campus. That only makes you think if the joy of the uncommon is more derived from the regularity of the mundane rather than anything else. Maybe it is time we started appreciating the journey instead of waiting for the destination.

The Lunchbox

If I were to summarize The Lunchbox in one word I would say visual poetry. The movie is marked by its departure from anything we have seen till now in Hindi movies. Be  it the style of execution or the story, the only thing that steals the show is subtlety. In this movie silence speaks louder than any words uttered anywhere. Simple gestures and expressions convey so much that it leaves you spellbound.

The story is a simple narrative of how two people meet(if writing to each other counts as meeting at all) over a misplaced  lunchbox and strike up a  conversation. The film takes us through their journey together as they become partners in loneliness. The widower  Saajan and the lonely Ila sharing their thoughts and emotions –makes the narrative of the movie.

 Who thought that something as trivial as an lunchbox could mean so much more to two people. And then again what better way to express such emotions as the expression on Irrfan Khan’s face when he smelt the lunchbox. The relief that washed over him when he got the lunchbox as usual on the day when he feared the worst ( having heard of a lady jumping to her death with her kid from a high-rise, he feared that the lady was Ila) was something you could completely identify yourself with. Simple words, simpler emotions expressed simply make the mark on one and all.Irrfan Khan proves his mettle as an ace actor once again. The furtive glances all around before opening the letter , the eagerness to open the lunchbox and read the letter all get conveyed via expressions and leaves no doubt in your mind that words are but noise, our eyes and emotions are expressive enough. Then again Nawazuddin Siddique also does his share by playing the talkative bluff master who charms his way to being an accountant without proper degree or knowledge. You can completely identify with his plight when he requests Irrfan Khan to withhold the fact that he has not got promotion from his father in law since that would require him to return the bike that his father in law gave him on the occasion of his promotion He plays the charmer in every way, bluffing and impressing even the indifferent Irrfan  Khan so much that they end up sharing his treasured lunch.

The new actress on the block Nimrat Kaur also makes a mark.Her trials and tribulation as a housewife trying to make the way to her husband’s heart through his stomach is something everyone can identify with.The distraught wife going to her mother on realizing that her husband is having an affair and letting go of it all when her duty as a daughter requires her to play along with her husband for the treatment of her father  makes you cringe in your seat.The lonely housewife concluding that happiness awaits her in Bhutan where there is Gross National Happiness instead of Gross Domestic Product( which she comes to know from her school going daughter),the disillusioned housewife wondering what went though the mind of the lady who committed suicide by jumping from the topmost floor of her building with her kid and the subtle expressions on her face when she listens to songs of Sajan(yes! That is also the name of Irrfan Khan’s character in the movie) all give away the talent in her.

I could go on and on about how each frame makes a point in its own way.How each moment is brought to life by a single sweep of the camera,an expression here  and a sigh there—it all makes you optimistic that Indian cinema has indeed finally come to age.

N.B-could not help mentioning the artistic poster as well.One image saying so much…it does make a mark on you.

Being Barfi!

Barfi!Before I go on to elaborate the plethora of emotions this movie churned in me, let me clarify that I am  not trying to defend it against charges of plagiarism or anything. I have no point to make about whether this is a unique effort in Hindi cinema or any other Indian movie arena whatsoever. This will be my tale of how I felt when I watched this movie.

 

 

The beginning itself was different. Instead of the boring instructions like “switch of your mobile during the movie and stuff” the musical instruction of “picture shuru bhai picture shuru” captured my fancy from the very beginning (not to mention the well worded instruction “picture mein mobile aur bachey dono off rakhna”:P).Then came the tale of the happy go lucky murphy aka barfi…..

 

We have been told time and again a million times to “take life with a pinch of salt”….but the so called normal people like us never cease to make a fuss about out troubles and tribulations. And here we came to know a character that had nothing, not even anything to complain about. Ranbir proves his mettle as  the deaf and dumb Barfi who goes about his life helping others. The honesty of the character charms you from the first shot.

 

All   that said and done in infinite reviews so far, the best part was the fact that it makes you see the poetry in life. The best dialogue as per my opinion “the greatest risk in life is to not take a risk” explains it all ….prim and precise bang on the point that was like life in a sentence. Another thing that I found immensely touching about the movie was that the saddest of events were depicted with humour.ie.with a pinch of salt as they say. Let me give you an example…Barfi’s  mom’s passing away depicted in as simple as “radio on hui,amma off hui “….hearing this you realize its sad,but still you cannot suppress that smile surfacing on your lips ..can you??

The candidness of some scenes captures your heart. The scene where Barfi tests Jhilmil(the mentally retarded girl played by Priyanka with panache) with his conventional let the lamppost fall trick, the way she clings on to him cozy in the belief that nothing could go wrong as long as she had Barfi with her, made anyone and everyone hope we all that little island of  security wherein we can trust someone with our lives..well it sure made me hope so.Barfi’s leaving Jhilmil at malathy maasi’s  house and turning to find Jhilmil running after the bus halfway on the way back, warms your heart  to no end.Infnite love songs and poetry later,it does not come simpler that this. Love –pure, sublime and simple  could not be exemplified  better.Inspite of all the independence and individual space demands of modernization, the heart never stops seeking that one person who can be your escape.Does it? J

 

I loved Barfi for its simplicity, for showing the magic in life. Life can be whatever we make of it,a tragedy if we make it so or a magic trick only if we make it so.It lies in our hands and not in the hands of fate as we tend to say so often. All that and more delivered simply by Anurag Basu and to the adorable Barfi J

Life of a Bengali in Chennai

So where to begin-let’s start where it all starts. The traditional Bengali khoka let’s call him “Babu” (trust me that is the commonest pet name for Bengali kids) gets a cushy (yeah yeah!thats only the popular perception about it) job in one of those IT companies and is for the first time compelled to live away from home.He starts to pack and finds himself packing all his jibonanodoz and literature stuff instead of the usual earthly belongings till “ma” comes to rescue, and proudly proclaiming that “amar babu-ta boyeshei boro hoeche,ekhuno amake chara kichui parena”(my son has grown up but can’t do anything without me) arranges the stuff till babu lands up with 2-3 huge “shootkesh” not-counting the huge holdall with mattress. Thereafter,mummy becomes all sentimental and start force-feeding babu the last few days, fending off all protests saying “kheye ne baba..okhane giye okhadyo kukhadyo kheye thakbi,barir khabar pran bhore kheye ne”.D –day comes.ma and bapi comes to put babu in train.At howrah station bapi suppresses his depression with some extra haggling with the koolie saying “thik se bolo dam nehito hum nijei lejayega,kiu jhamela korta hai” till ma intervenes saying “arre ajk to jhamela korona,cheleta etodur jache” and finally babu is into the train bag baggage et all.Bapi and ma bid a teary fearwell to babu and out he goes into the wild wild south.






Babu reaches Chennai and the back-breaking job of getting all those stuff outta the train is his first brush with reality.Then he hails a coolie in sign language only to be hit with the sudden realization that the same broken hindi which stood him up in other places is useless here.Lots of useless hinglish lands him nowehere and poor babu ends up carrying his luggage himself to the prepaid taxi booth .In another scenario, he may somehow manage to convince the coolie to carry his stuff only to know later that what he assumed to be 15 rs was actually 50 rs that the coolie had asked(as the coolie solemnly claims at the end of the deal).Babu feels angry but seeing the popular mood of the angry coolie and his fellowmen , he relents.


Thanks to the half English speaking burly man at the prepaid taxi booth,babu reaches his hotel/company quarters without much of a fuss.Then comes the fateful encounter with south Indian food,to be precise the tamil diet of idli,dosa and sambar.Babu by his inborn instinct looks for dal in the menu but is disappointed at the absence of it .So he settles for sambar n idli/dosa.Eating the simple fare,he wonders what makes this people relish the sour-ness in everything(“sala sobeteyi tentul dey”) unlike what he is used to at home(the mildly sour chutney at the end of the meal).And since the meal doesn’t catch his fancy so he gets to do a bit of people-watching and discovers that the humble lungi which is used as indoor wear by Bengali-s is worn with such flourish here. Men of all ages ,with enough oil on their heads to fry a fish ride, ride motorcycles with their lungis flying behind like the cape of a superhero and nobody seems to mind. Men are free here, he concludes-at least free to show off their legs(“sojne dantar moto thyeng” to be precise with mini hair plantations on them)..And he also spots the traditional tamil woman all decked up in silks in spite of the smoldering heat with mini jasmine gardens on their head. Hereby he first misses pasher barir “tuli” whom he used to give maths lessons before her madhyamik porikha and who used to look at her with “pakhir moto chokh”(don’t think 90% of Bengali boys can come up with anything more poetic).With a sigh he finished off his food and heads to look for a pg/rented apartment.


In this situation two cases might arise-


1.he meets a group of Bengalis in the company who are also looking for a roommate and he shifts with them.


2.He looks at all kinds of pg-s with the help of the broker .He explains to the broker repeatedly “hum/me bhirbhatta mein I mean crowdy place thakte nehi parega” which the broker returns with a understanding nod only to shoo him off to look at another pg/flat with folding beds crammed into pigeon hole like rooms.If lucky he finds a north-indian roomie else he is doomed with a “sala tentul”( oh yeah!dat is d way bongs finally get down to calling their tamil counterparts).






Situation 1 seems to be a perfect solution unless it’s a weekend and babu has to for the first time wash his own clothes. How much detergent for how many clothes, how come the stylish white crisp shirt turned yellow and maroon after he put it in the same bucket as his tshirt,how come the detergent never seems to wash off totally from the clothes especially cotton ones are the innumerable questions that confuse babu and babu realizes for the first time that what ma made appear like a child’s play has a lot more to it than meets the eye. So babu suggests to his flat mates if they can get a “kajer mashi” in Chennai..And in comes the typical Chennai bai with the silk sari and jasmine garden in place and wearing more gold than babu has ever seen ma wear on occasions. Add to it, the bai finishes her work in straight 15 minutes, manages to sweep the room without displacing a single speck of dust and washes clothes so that stains are left unharmed -all these flummox babu more n more. So to ignore the mess, like most Bengali men, he chooses to overlook these and turns up in his upstart office with crinkled shirts having the occasional tea or coffee stains with such panache as if looking smart is a crime. Some of these people prefer to cook themselves and set up a kitchen with flourish only to submit later to the hectic schedules and opt for home delivery.Breaks in the mundane spicy food that these home delivery people pass as north-indian food comes in the form of visits to Annapurna at Egmore where he gets proper Bengali food as well as a healthy dose of Bengali adda,not to mention he feels at home seeing the other pot-bellied,half bald Bengali guys with glasses thick enough to put the horlicks bottle to shame,going about proudly in tight t-shirts and payjamas.






If poor babu is stuck up with option2, then he adjusts and keeps a lookout for option1.In the meantime the only solace he finds is telling ma about how much he misses “potol r dolma” and “majher jhol” .






In the meantime a strange thing happens. Suddenly he finds for himself the time to look at girls unabashed. And thus he discovers two sets of girls- the attractive north Indian-s who sport straightened hair, who have somehow mastered the difficult act of eating rice n curry and even chapatti with spoon (holding the piece of chapatti like a boat and putting the curry inside with a spoon…it is more difficult than it looks-trust me),who go about in groups which inevitably has a fat guy who looks more like a bodyguard to the queen bee(ie.the prettiest gal in d lot) and gives you an ugly look if u r caught ogling at any of the girls of the group.And for the first time he becomes conscious of the need to attract attention and hence gets a feeling in his subconscious that hair gels and nicely polished shoes are not a matter of choice but a life-saver;).The other set of girls are the regular ones with whom babu interacts on a daily basis(including his team-mates) ,who don’t make a mark beyond the world of work.


A few months of this life,and babu becomes one of the following:


1.A workaholic who works 18 hours/day during weekdays ,sometimes even on weekends lest he gives in to his own frustration of living in an alien city,eating crappy food ,earning peanuts and last but not the least not having a girlfriend to yap away on the phone like all those happy committed people(trust me when u r single all u see around are “happy couple”-s:P)..


2.An amateur photographer(suddenly photography seems to be the fashionable hobby) with his new DSLR and gets shutter-happy clicking everything from birds to beer bottles and publishing them on facebook and getting comments like “well done boy” and so on..but the new-found glamour is short lived as he finds out that by some miracle all people are these days doing the same stuff…Thus disillusioned,he abandons his camera and hence the search begins for something more fruitful..some find it in preparation for management exams,some in new job search…and so on…


Whether he is 1 or 2 or a combination of both,some things however remain common.For example: love for everything Bengali,he misses his anandabajar potrika(the e-version somehow lacks the charm of the paper copy),misses luchi and mangsho,misses bangla radio and bangla books especially the pujo sonkhyas….and longs to go home during durga puja when he gets his breath of fresh air which buoys him throughout the rest of the year…..


That in all is the story of every Bengali lad in chennai…some get transfer back to Kolkata …but they are replaced by a newer batch of fresh-out of college dreamy eyed Bengali-s and the same story begins yet again….and for those who continue to stay on, the story continues to be same …or does it change…only time will tell…..I am yet to find out:)


Note:All resemblance to any people living or dead is actual..and in none of it have i intended to hurt any of them...Even if i have taken a dig at some of them it is all meant in good humor..

The year 2010-A Recap....

A brand new year came by and before we even realize it, we are 16 days into it…It just makes u wonder if time actually flies…



So I decide to evaluate the year gone by..Ummm…where to begin …to start with, the year began with me getting my first salary at the end of Jan 2010...The first salary got debited to my account and I remember feeling like the king of the world…I guess that’s something everybody feels on getting their first salary, but it was remarkable for me after the uncertainty we faced during the recession period in 2009..I remember each day was a night-mare as I waited for my joining date, with the fear lurking in the back of my mind that it might never come…But it came, and in view of what a pampered girl I was at home, it’s nothing short of a miracle that I survived through my training period in the cold north-east and did not miss a single day of training in spite of the chilly weather(on that note thanks to my roommate Purba)…

Then Chennai happened…Blazing sun, blandness of the cuisine, experiment with all brands of sunscreen available in the market, yet getting a tan, covering my face like a terrorist whenever I go out during the day and last but not the least getting used to using an umbrella (trust me, in Kolkata I won’t be caught dead with an umbrella ever;) ) and a dire language problem later ,I can say I have come a long way from the ever pampered single child to being a self-reliant woman…Now I have the confidence to take the world by myself, maybe I cannot make the best of all situations, yet I have learnt enough to not make a complete fool of myself in any situation..(so I believe..)..Chennai made me stand on my feet….



2010 made me realize what I could be to my family..my parents have been by me through thick and thin, but I felt good when I could assure them the same in their hard times…I felt proud of myself to be able to tell them that they don’t have to worry about anything…I am there for them….It kind made me feel that the emotional fool and impulsive buyer that I am, my life has finally come to some use:) and for this, I am thankful to my parents for making me this capable..(err…however little capable I am that is….let’s not get into that now!!!!)…..



2010 also taught me the value of family…I realized that the existence we have, amounts to nothing in this huge wide world and to its ever-growing population unless you decide to do something for somebody..and what better place to start than your family….They are the ones who give meaning to your life and since it’s my mom’s birthday today…I take this opportunity to say “love u ma and baba”..I am not the kind who tells the words “miss u” or “love u” too much..yet you people complete me…



Talking of how insignificant I am, as any human being is, I realized something very important in this year….a human being is as valuable as the work he/she does…living and working in a city far away from home…I used to feel very lonely at times..sometimes on evenings I would wonder if anybody here will miss me when I am gone…it’s then that I realized that they won’t..Unless maybe someday someone would refer to me w.r.t my work (however insignificant it might be to the outside world)..so all that matters is giving your best to whatever you do…I don’t know whether I am meant for great things…neither do I know if I will ever be someone worthwhile…but what I do know is my work marks my contribution to this world/industry and I don’t want to regret that I did not make an effort when I could have…..



On this note, I want to share a little story with all..I was on my way home last month when I came across and edition of “The Week” and bought it ..It was some anniversary issue to celebrate some of the greatest achievers( who are physically challenged) of our times….as I went through those tales of people with disfigured bones and bodies overcoming all obstacles just by their will-power, I did not know when I started thanking god for making me the way I am…I realized that I am indeed blessed to have a sound mind and body…because there are so many out there who are declined by fate the very things we take so much for granted…And thus as I read about the girl whose whole body is paralyzed except 1 finger in her hand and she has a book to her credit, I found myself folding my 10 fingers in a prayer of thanks …..Indeed, I am blessed…..



This year is the first one when I felt the need to know about all that goes on in the world…I became conscious of it in the wake of the hearing for the BABRI MASJID case..the Cauvery issue tribunal decision and so on and so forth…I had heard of the saying “the only blessing is knowledge and the only curse is ignorance”…..and so I promised myself to make a more well rounded decision when I cast my vote the next time…



The last month of the year was when I got my confirmation and became a part of the brand that is Tata..and however much we complain about TCS, there is no denying the fact that I am proud to be a part of the Tata group…In this one year, I have come across the TATA’s efforts at making a better world in so many ways that I am proud to be a part of all these endeavors in my own little way (though I do not deny that I curse them no less, every time I see a reduction from my salary for anything like this..shame on me:()…..

So all in all, this year has been an enriching journey and I look forward to having many more such years of learning in my life…

Tale of late evenings-now and then

This weekend I happened to go out with my mother and then I got a view of the sky and the setting sun bathing the clouds in its crimson glory after a good many days….infact a good many many good many days at that……
Looking at the sky as the day gracefully gave way to the beautiful evening…I realized all of a sudden that my go at economic independence(!!!) had cost me my favourite part of the day~the late evening….

I remember days before December 2009 when I used to be alone at home in the evenings and used to think “another day ends again without any news of joining” and sigh at my bad luck…My idle times would come pouncing at me and I would think that anyone anywhere who has some work is luckier than me(the grass is always greener on the other side of the river..u see!!!).. n at that time I used to look outta my windows and see school children going home with their mothers-some licking ice lollies,some hopping in tune to some unknown music……some chasing each other without any reason and laughing gleefully…….I just wanted to go back to my childhood and be the kid I used to be and then again I wanted to be the hunk returning from office-his otherwise stainless corporate clothes a little ruffled here and there due to the whole days work………I wanted to be anywhere,anytime but not at that moment……But then the corporation lights lit up one after the other somehow it filled me with hope that tomorrow would be a better day…..

Cut to Scene2-
I was undergoing my ILP -2 in Chennai and I used to return home during dusk.Sometimes as I walked down the streets, the horizon being bathed in the goodbye halos of the red sun would soothe my nerves and fill me with a great sense of serenity.
Then again there were days when my head would be muddled up trying to fathom some
intricate detail of JAVA and then the world around would seem unknown in that very halo.I would long for a known face,a known voice to share the so called frustration(aww!!at that time I was foolish enough to take it as frustration,,,dat in itself frustrates me now:P)….I would wish that the magic which changes the surroundings at dusk would touch me and take me back home to Kolkata where atleast I could crib and CRIB in peace about how tough Java was and all….and someone would actually understand it…but that was not to be……because Java or no Java nobody here understood my language and cribbing in English is not quite so fulfilling……poor me!!!:P




Cut to Scene3-
Now I spend entire days couped up in my cubicle and cut off from the world outside.For 5 days of the week I see the sun high up in the sky when I come to office in the morning and by the time I take the bus back,dusk has given way to night….Yes,the dusk eludes me now….So does the rush of emotions and tribulations that the sight of the setting sun started in me…I am better off without my emotions and thoughts being in a chaos as described above,but then am I!!!!!!