Melting Waters

“ In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;

It wearies me; you say it wearies you;

But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,

What stuff’t is made of, whereof it is born,

I am to learn;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,

That I have much ado to know myself. ” (Act -1, Scene-1 Merchant of Venice)

Free as a wild stallion but still there is something amiss. Tinges of bareness, vagueness have crept in. I read somewhere that when you have nowhere else to find solace, dig deep into your memories; they are yours’. Ashoke Ganguli says to Gogol in The Namesake,” Remember that we made this journey alone, only you and me, and we went to a place where there was nowhere else to go.”; life is nothing but a journey where people come and go, some stick for long and some do not but the important thing is to cherish it, remember it that there exists a moment in time which belongs to just “us”.

Allow me to flip back through some pages of my journey and breathe them once again through the following words.

1. First Steps

It was seriously funny. Though I was part of the drama and would have preferred not to be but there was no escaping it. It was the first day of school. My memory fails to recollect the date. The Sun was mild and a cool breeze was flowing, the rustling of leaves could be heard amongst the din of multitude of “proud” parents and their “burdened” children. Papas and Mummies were still not finished with their advices, wishes and expectations. Mummies hugging and kissing their children, wishing them luck, Papas preaching their last minute wisdoms; the drama was unfolding in all its totality. Thankfully, my parents were lot less dramatic than what was the prevalent mood. There was just a casual bye from Mummy and Papa just standing next to Mom, seeing his son walking into a new era of life. Agreed that it was the first day of school, many of those venturing into a life away from the shadow of their parents, taking a journey out of their parent’s ambit but things could have been less dramatic. At sixteen, you are good to go!! The problem with sixteen and their neighbours is that you get caught in no man’s land. Slowly but surely the “eleventhers” gathered together in the ground for the morning assembly, parents waving and intently watching their offspring walking into a new realm of life, and the second act started to unfold. First came the prayer. Well, to my shame I didn’t know the prayer which was nothing but holy “Gayatri Mantra”. Call it my religious impunity or a miss on my parents’ side to inculcate their son with religious doctrines. (Just for records, “I will be always thankful that my parents’ never really pushed me into religious activities/ doctrines, in fact they never really pushed me for anything, they always allowed me to discover it, learn it and adapt it on my own.”) Then came the lecture. Ram Eqbal Singh, an interesting name nevertheless (Ram and Eqbal together and Eqbal starting with E), the then principal of Dayanand Anglo Vedic Jawahar Vidya Mandir, Shyamali started with his speech. His speech was flooded with doctrines of discipline, knowledge, study, life ahead, etcetera of which all of us already had enough from our parents. And finally, thousand odd students were asked to look for their names on the notice board so as to find out their respective sections. And a commotion broke out!! The unrest, the accompanying noise, the prevalent confusion marked the beginning of “my journey”.

(I have called it “my journey” because the decision to do my Senior Secondary from DAV JVM, Shyamali was my very own; there was no one else involved. I went there in spite of my Mom being not so happy about it, but still I did because somewhere inside me I had this feeling that this was going to work “good”. It worked wonders, and as they say,” the rest is history”.)

2. Deep in Dumps

The class was awkwardly silent. Anxiety, hope and energy were in the air. One could sense it. I was particularly awe struck. Sitting in a class of around 50 students and all of them toppers of their schools and flagging their marks sheets with late 90s, one can breathe the elitism of the moment. There was not much of talk going on; everyone was waiting for the teacher to descend upon, which he did very soon. A short, dark-complexioned man with a very neat and crisp hair do entered. He walked fast and talked even faster, while constantly moving across the class. It was hard to follow him. After a very short and brief introduction, which I could hardly follow, he fired the first cannon,” Lets see how good this class is. What’s the differentiation^* of three ex cube?” Before I could even grasp the first word of what he had said, almost the whole class blurted out in unison, ”NINE EX SQUARE”. One hammer down. “What is the differentiation of three upon ex cube?” Infused with confidence, the class thundered, “MINUS NINE BY EX TO THE POWER FOUR”. Two hammer down. I was dumb struck by this unexpected and severe onslaught of enlightenment, and my poor soul had no place to escape. But one thing was clear that the guy was in love with three. The subsequent questions which followed did have three in them. As they say, grope in dark and you will start to see. Something similar happened. It didn’t took me long to notice that I was not alone in the class with a sewn mouth. I had few brethrens suffering with the same predicament, and the nearest one was sitting just right to me on a different bench. Eyes bare it all and smiles followed no sooner. It was a smile of brotherhood, of relief that there was still justness and normalcy in this world. We didn’t utter a single word or a sigh until the madness of differentiations and integrations stopped after one hour. The glory was in tatters, the pride being raped and it was time to sought refuge in washroom, away from the crime place. As I was returning into that doomed class, somebody tapped my shoulder from behind,” I am Nishant. Kahaan aa gaye hain bey humlog?” “I am Rohan. Jahaan bhi aa gaye hain, ab toh yehi rehna hai.” I do not know where is Nishant now or what he is doing; we didn’t go on to become bum-chums but that was one special moment in space and time which we lived together, experienced together, journeyed together!! I do not remember how that day went by but it was no different from the hour which had just gone by. What is still fresh in memory is the humiliation which my pride suffered as I was brought down to knees, then on ankles. But what is also alive in my memory is that how I first crawled, then walked and finally sprinted my way back to redeem my pride in myself which took almost an year, when I was able to stand along with the elitist of my class and made myself count.

(^*Differentiation and Integration are the fundamental chapters of Senior Secondary Mathematics. 90% of the class had already been "coached-up" with these chapters during the holidays before the start of Senior Secondary and was done with the basics of not only the chapters in concern but also of fundamentals of Senior Secondary Physics and Chemistry; while I spent my holidays as holidays. So that’s why the few unfortunate ones in the class, who garnished their holidays in the spirit of merriment found themselves choking in the inexplicable, unexpected wave of studiousness.)

3. First Flight

It happened in September of 2002, don’t remember the date but it was Friday. It was unusually hot day for the capital in the month of September. I was having my lunch as usual after returning from the excruciating boredom of FIITJEE classes. The time would have been around 3:30 p.m. I was almost done with my lunch and was all set for an afternoon nap. I had few things to discuss with Bhabhi, but thought better not to disturb her as I knew she would be sleeping. As I was about to get up from the dining table, suddenly Bhabhi appeared from her room and said,” Hrisheksh chala jaaye?” Said me,” Chaliye. Kab chalna hai.” Came the surprise,”Abhi chalein. Waise bhi weekend hai. So abhi chalte hain.” Not used to such sudden traveling sojourns, I could only muster, “Abhi bole toh Abhi-ka-Abhi ?” Came the decider,”Lets leave by 5. Kareeb paanch ghante lagenge. We will reach there by 10.“ I could just nod my head in agreement. And we, viz. me, Rishi Bhaiya and Bhabhi, did leave for Hrishikesh at sharp five o clock. “A casual trip”, you say but for me it was a watershed moment in life. That trip to Rishikesh which also found its way to Neelkanth and Mussoorie kindled a new passion inside me. Traveling. Since then, I have been to various places with friends and family but the seeds of exploration and traveling were sown in that trip to Hrishikesh. It was in that trip that I discovered the joys of traveling, the knowledge it imparts to you and the thousand things that you get to learn about different cultures and traditions. But most importantly, it gives you a sense of belonging, a sense of being a journeyman which in itself is an ecstatic feeling. It would be criminal of me to finish this space without penning down few words for one of the most exquisite places I have been to in my life, Hrishikesh. There is something mystique about Hrishikesh. A town of few thousand souls on the banks of river Ganga, a sacred shrine for Hindus where Ganga appears in all its full glory for the first time in its traverse till it kisses Bay of Bengal; a place which has been immortalized in various mythologies. A place always teeming with tourists flooding in from all parts of the world, from various cultures; some in search of spirituality, some to capture the beauty of Lower Himalayan Range and River Ganga in their memory, some for fun and river rafting. Hrishikesh has got a soul, even in its commotion there is an aura of calmness and peace, even the speeding waters of Ganga stop for a moment to bless you and bestow you with that unexplained, unimaginable feeling of contentment and inner peace. Just sitting on the banks of river, and watching the river flow past you, hearing those gurgling sounds of water fighting with each other in the lap of Lower Himalayas gives birth to an amazing emotion of peace and ecstasy inside you, which I may dare to call,” a spiritual orgasm”. If you have not been to Hrishikesh, the author literally pleads you to go there once before your final rituals are read, you will come back “richer and enlightened”.

4. Steps of Heaven

My first day in Manipal. Just read the post, The Life Thereafter – Part I, below this one.

5. Dry tears

“The fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony”, said Morpheus and adds Rohan,” also not without an impeccable sense of humour”. It all began with a cloudy, rainy, pleasant day heralding the beginning of a new journey, and it ended on a no different note.

They say that in retrospect things look better and happier than they were. I beg to differ. I have different notion about it. Its been almost an year since the day I saw people crying, some shedding tears, some fought on to hold theirs but found their voices choked; who will perhaps never cry again in their life; who were crying because a part of their life had come to an end, a part which will never come again and a part which would probably remain the best part of their lives they lived or they could have lived. With each passing day, one realizes the importance of what has been left behind which is not going to come back again; which will be treasured forever by everyone who was part of it and cherished by all.

It still seems so unreal that four years have passed by so fast. I can still vividly remember each and every moment of my first day in Manipal, the passage of four years has not been able to rust away those memories. And its just not the first day, the days spent in 6^th Block during the first year or days spent in 9^th Block and D-Block during the second year or the time spent in 10^th Block, and ofcourse the time spent in college, all of it is still so alive in memories that its hard to believe that it has come to an end. But it has. Each and every nook and corner of Manipal has left an indelible memory, a story, to remember, to treasure.

There is so much to write, so much to tell about the four years of Manipal but not now. Some other day, some other time, may be at some other space when there will be nothing else to look forward to but to only cherish the moments of your life which truly made it worth living.