Tag Archive for 'friends'

Its a good thing to have friends

Published on August 3, 2008 in Good things and These thoughts of mine. 4 Comments Tags: , , .

We make a lot of friends along the way. A friend once told me that we’re all like passengers on a bus, traveling along wherever our lives may take us. We talk, share, open up a bit of ourselves to each other for the moment and as long as time permits us. Sooner or later, we reach our stop and get off, sometimes without even looking back to say goodbye.

Thank you to all my friends, whom I’ve met, known, no matter how briefly or even if it may be from a distance. I cherish the moments spent with each one of you. For they say – you have but one life. And it was a pleasure meeting all of you.

There are a lot of my close friends with whom I’ve lost touch. People who have been instrumental in making me the person I am today. Yet we’re no longer in contact for we’ve parted ways long back. Sometimes I wonder when it was that we lost touch. Was it me or was it them? Were we all so busy and caught up in our lives that we slipped away unnoticed so easily?

I look back and wonder where all of them are, what they’re doing and wish them love and happiness in everything they do. Perhaps we shall meet again, perhaps not. I hope the former, in all earnesty, some day.

There there are some, a handful of people; who dont let distance or time matter when it comes to friendship. They are my backbone, my strength in life. I would be lost without confiding in them my deepest, darkest feelings as well as any ecstasies that come along my way.

For those who have always been there for me, even if I werent for them. True friends, with no issues towards any of my idiosyncrasies and who embraced me for what I am – thank you. Happy friendship day.

Corny things

Published on July 27, 2008 in Good things and Sikkim. 2 Comments Tags: , , .

Things get very corny enroute to Gangtok and you can intercept the freshly roasted smell miles before you actually reach the place where they sell them. Thats my cook buying some roasted corns while we were on our way towards Gangtok. The corn fields line the highway and the village people make their living selling corns for 5 bucks a piece. Pretty cheap. And delicious too. I ought to probably say healthy too but I’m not entirely sure if it is indeed so.

I dont know how but nowadays they sell corn throughout the year along this stretch of the road. Earlier there used to be certain seasons for which people used to wait impatiently for the corn to ripen. Guess the villagers decided to make this a way of life. And looking at the large number of vehicles which stop and buy from them, I’d say people are really fond of this stuff.

Use of plastic bags are banned in Sikkim so we didnt get one. A small step towards reducing pollution and rightfully so. Therefore, as we continued our journey, the whole car started smelling like a corn field itself. Half an hour later, as I picked up a friend, the moment she sat in the car she exclaimed, You bought corn!!! Lets have some!!!

Mishap@Rose Day

Published on May 8, 2008 in REC Calicut. 8 Comments Tags: , .

Apparently it was Rose Day some days ago. Someone was kind enough to wish me Happy Rose Day although I did not get any rose(s) this year or any other year before for quite sometime now. Not that it prevented me from breathing or living life in any case. I was just amused by the interest in this particular day by the younger generation. Ah, to be a teenager and still be in the process of building sand castles in the air.

We too used to celebrate Rose Day religiously back in college. By stupidly buying roses at over inflated prices of 10 rupees per rose. And sending them anonymously to certain parties over at the Boys Hostel. Or at least thats what the senior girls told us.

There was this particular senior whom my friend and me thought was pretty cute. His friends nick named him Katti, in the local language. I think that means one-who-speaks-a-lot. Anyways, after repeated assurance that anonymous roses wouldnt be traced back to us at any cost, we sent one to him along with the message, “from your admirer” (I think)

Innocently enough, the senior girls made us write out names & the message number in a register after which the sale would be made. We were stupid enough to write all that. What we didnt know was that the seniors girls would be so co-operative with their male colleagues that they would hand over the register for a complete scrutiny of who sent which anonymous rose to whom and how many.

I was later horrified to hear people snickering about being enamoured with Mister Katti. The guy himself was decent enough not to address the issue even once. So much for anonymous roses. And so much for female unity. Moral of the story: Dont trust girls, at least those who’re not in your friend category.

In a pickle

Published on April 30, 2008 in REC Calicut. 14 Comments Tags: , , .

(Memory triggered by Priya’s mentioning of exotic Sikkim pickles way back in hostel)

The funny thing about college is that I dont really remember attending classes all that much. Nor do I remember that many lecturers who used to have time of their life torturing my ignorance of the technical world. I can think of only two reasons why I wouldnt remember my classes/teachers. Either I’m just getting past my initial stage of Alzhimer’s or else I didnt really attend classes all that much as I was supposed to. Considering that I had attendance shortage in almost every alternate semester, I’d say the second option was more accurate.

What I remember very vividly is spending some of the most memorable times of my life in the Ladies Hostel (LH). I was ragged in the very first few days of my arrival at the LH. There was this big haired, wicked witch in the final year whose voice was like whiplash and who shot daggers whenever you happened to catch her eye. I dont remember her name or else I would have gladly printed it here, trust me. I’m not trying to protect her identity and be a nice person or any sort of such foolish thing.

Anyway, I never understood the logic behind ragging. Something about facing the person with the real world and blah blah. What I personally think is that it was a major opportunity for sadistic, evil people to bridge their insecurities and make fun of potential threats. And all one can do is rave & rant about it in her blog 10 years down the line. Nothing else much.

Deep breath. Realization strikes that I’m digressing. Back to good memoirs. Repeat mantra three times (along with fist pump) - No anger against fools. No anger against fools. No anger against #*@#&*# fools.

A way of dispelling early homesickness was by haunting the post office for much awaited parcels from home. My dad used to be such a sweetheart and send me stuff like L’Oreal hair colour, in burgundy, sweets and pickle. My favourite pickle was this exotic pea one, which my dad wrapped it up in layers of plastic and parcelled all the way from Gangtok to Calicut one fine day.

When I went to collect my parcel at the post office, I was summoned to the Post Master’s cabin. He then pointed to an oil-stained parcel lying on the floor and which was pretty much soaked through & through with yellow oil. I got a big lecture on how my oil-leaking parcel went on to destroy so many important letters and so on and on and on.

After about 20 minutes of strained lecture from the Post Master, I ran away from the post office, holding on to my pickle-parcel all the way to the hostel. I retold the story later on to my friends, while eating dinner alongwith yummy, exotic pea pickle just arrived all the way from Gangtok. We laughed & laughed not caring one bit about important letters getting destroyed by getting soaked in pickle oil.

Such pickle incident happened twice in the entire duration of my stay in the hostel. The staff at the post office then started smiling the moment they saw me henceforth.

I wonder if at the end of this post, some people are going – “Ohhh… thats why I got yellow oil-stained letters that particular day…” Yes, I’m afraid to say, that was me.

So long, Robin

Published on April 23, 2008 in Favourite posts and memoirs. 4 Comments Tags: , , .

So long, Robin. Its been nice knowing you. I cant believe that its over. That we wont be seeing your smiling face in the office every morning. And that you wont be a part of our ‘lunch group’ anymore. This also means no one is going to go to Khusboo anymore for lunch since only you preferred that restaurant so much. But we will miss you very much.

I hope when you join your new job, you’ll do very well and incorporate your learning experiences while you were with us. Like how not to shout at your boss maybe. Although the fact that you’re very talented and hardworking normally outshines whatever little volcanos you host deep within, rest assured.

You’re such a beautiful human being. You laugh so easily at all my stupid jokes, I used to feel so clever and quite the wit. You are kind, intelligent and having you around has been extremely fun, drunk or sober. I shall never forget you cleaning my kitchen, that incident only made me realize that we were friends for good or bad and most importantly, clean or dirty. I shall miss you. Very much.

I shall also miss not being able to advise you anymore. Oh, what major life changing decisions you used to break your head on! I’m glad you didnt join the other job two years back or else I wouldnt have been able to get to know you this well. I wish you didnt have to leave us for it has been a bundle of fun all these months.

The office wont be the same without you. Everyday was like a picnic, sitting and gossiping half the time. And laughing the rest half of the time. (Boss reading this??? I know you wouldnt care anymore but dont mind if I do) Nevertheless, it has all been fun. And as we begin our separate paths workwise henceforth, I wish you happiness in everything you do. Or for that matter, dont do as well.

In your own words, luck luck luck, good luck dear Robin. Hope our paths cross more than deemed necessary and believe me when I say that the dance floor wont be the same without you. Goodbye, old friend. Your name may rhyme with dusbin but you shall always be king of our hearts.

Luncheon

Published on March 20, 2008 in Life as it happens. 10 Comments Tags: , , .

The time is 1:10 pm. My phone rings as expected. Jimmy calling.

Me: Yeah?
Jimmy:  Where are you??? Its time for lunch. What are you doing? Blogging? Always online!!! Hurry up, we’re all waiting for -
Me: Ok! Ok! Coming.

I reach the lobby where three hungry people await me, or rather my car keys.

Jimmy: Always late! Lets go. I’m so hungry, my eye balls are about to pop.
Me: Here are the keys. You drive.
Jimmy: I dont want to. You drive yourself.
Me: Drive, idiot!
Jimmy: Okay, auntie.

Everyone gets into the car. Off we go with music at full blast. Bebot bebot be.

Robin: Where to?
Me: I dont know. Whose turn is it today?
(Everybody): Its not my turn.
Me: Jimmy, dont lie. Last time it was your turn, you conveniently stayed absent. So that means today is yours.

After clearing the confusion surrounding whose turn it is to pay, we head towards a joint that we somewhat frequent. While ordering lunch, we have a hard time catching the waiter’s attention.

Jimmy: Waiter, this table’s dirty. Can you clean it fast?
Robin: Could you bring us some water to drink?

Waiter pretends not to hear.

Me: This is what happens when you stupidly leave one rupee as a tip, like the last time.
Jimmy: He asked for it! I was deliberately trying to insult him after such poor service!
Robin: I thought we were never going to eat here after that incident…
Me: Sshhh… here he comes.

Lunch is served. Waiter’s face is impassive. Hard to make out if he remembers about last time.

Me: You know, Jimmy – that guy probably sneezed on your food. Heh.
Jimmy: Please, just eat and dont talk nonsense.
Robin: (Laughs) Hey, he forgot to serve the salad.
Jimmy: Waiter! Bring some nimbu-simbu over here??
Me: Yeah, he’ll probably pick up some Simbu from the kitchen and serve that to you.

Bill time. We hurriedly exit towards the counter in order to avoid the waiter and to pay the bill directly.

Robin: I’ll pay the bill today ok. Jimmy, you can pay tomorrow.
Jimmy: Whatever.
Me: How come???
Robin: Sshhh… the guy at the counter thought we ate only one fried fish each instead of two. Bill’s only 140 bucks. Lets get the hell out of here.

Its not my turn

Published on February 19, 2008 in Musings. 2 Comments Tags: , .

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My typical lunch break includes a short drive to the nearby food stalls along with three other colleagues who are also my good friends and lunch-mates. Recently, we made a pact that one person can foot the bill and this cycle is to be repeated for the rest of the members of the group. While it sounded ideal in the beginning, (I thought getting three free lunches was a pretty good idea) we soon realized that this practice does not bode well for the universal financial slump at the fag end of the month.

Also, I have noticed that we’ve started eating at cheap, unclean dhabas more frequently in an effort from certain parties to save money; while maintaining all the time that this place has the best food indeed… :D So it was that one of my friend in the group has finally suggested making a table and entering names in a periodic manner because too many people have started saying Its not my turn today! (I myself recall saying these words too many times to count by now) We are still wondering how to solve this particular problem…

The rating game

Published on January 30, 2008 in Gender blender and REC Calicut. 21 Comments Tags: , , .

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In rememberance of some of the silly things that make college life memorable.

We were a group of twittering first year girls hanging outside our classroom during short break in our very first few months in college. Since the fear of ragging had subsided considerably and we were slowly getting to know the rest of the guys, we girls stood joking and laughing in the corridor as hordes of other first years passed us by.

Although nobody knew how it happened, we found ourselves ogling at the guys passing by; the ones we fancied getting showered with smiles from all around along with nods of pretty girls’ heads. The lesser in the ranks were not given so much as a second glance. One thing led to another and it all avalanched into a rating game. (I have a sneaky feeling that I had a lot to do with spearheading the issue but its all a blur now, thanks to 10 years since then and now)

Soon, the cute guys were being given thumbs up and full points, amidst major giggling, while others were being thumbed down with a sad shake of the head. Thats how we passed 10 minutes of the intended short break. The rated guys were also flashing smiles all around and strutting happily as far as one remembers. It was all a harmless time pass which for once, the girls were taking lead of. And that was that. Or so we believed.

Apparently not all the guys who passed by were freshers like us. There were some seniors too – but – they too didnt look like they minded our silly game and were finding it quite amusing. And that was that. Or so it was believed.

Unfortunately some senior guys, who probably felt left out when they heard the story later on were supposedly startled to actually hear that a group of guys (junior or senior, who cares) were disrespected by a bunch of junior first year girls whose ragging period had hardly gotten over and who should have known better than insult people like that – how dare they!

So after a major overnight brainwashing session by the seniors, a group of angry first year guys (most of whom weren’t even present the previous day) formed a huge crowd on the Rajpath to intercept the girls to teach them a lesson. While they did blast some unfortunate girls passing by early in the morning – including one innocent day scholar who hadnt been one of us – but by the time we reached the crowd, there was a frantic scattering of all the guys as they quickly ran for their life. Puzzled, we looked around and saw the head of security walking cluelessly behind us. And surprisingly enough, that was finally that.

Bartley, my son

Published on November 29, 2007 in Favourite posts and REC Calicut. 14 Comments Tags: , , .

I once took part in a play in college. I was the mother with the powdered white hair. Although looking back, it seems I was always chosen to play the mother, dunno why. So anyways, this play was put together at the last minute which meant that nobody actually had any time to practice their lines or remember a long list of never-ending dialogues.

A classmate graciously offered to stand in the shadows, holding the script and prompt whenever the characters on stage forgot anything. With that infallible concept in hand, we headed towards enacting a most unforgettable and thoroughly laughable play in the history of that particular stage at least.

The scene was supposed to be a dramatically sad one; the dead body of the son is brought home and the family weeps at the loss of a life so young. When it was time for the mother’s speech of lament, luck had it that I remembered only two sentences which I stupidly repeated like about 10 times. I dont remember now exactly what misfortune befell the prompter but either she took just that time to take a break or she spoke so low that I couldnt hear any of my other lines.

So the white haired mother lamented thus – “Bartley, my son Bartley… now that you are gone, who will feed us and look after us?” That was the first line that I remembered. The second one went something like this – “Bartley, now that you are gone, who will fish for us and bring bread on the table“.

Later on, a friend in the audience told me that the mother came across as being only concerned about where her food is going to come from and for her, that was a tragedy even greater than a son dead.

Bartley, on his part also did his best to have the audience in splits. Although he was supposed to be dead, his eyes wouldnt stop blinking and his feet kept twitching for a dead body. We, the cast ourselves had a hearty laugh when we heard of the shenanigans that happened onstage later on.

And to think we got third place for this play. Maybe the judges gave points for all the laughter. And for the semi-dead Bartley perhaps. I’ve not had the courage to participate in any other play after that.

For Jaya

Published on September 28, 2007 in memoirs. 3 Comments Tags: , , .

(…who inspired me to write this post)

My life began two decades & eight years back when I had the privilege of sharing my childhood with some wonderful people whom I can still count as my friends. Although its been decades since we last met, we share a nostalgic bond that goes back in time to frilly skirts and birthday parties filled with presents and good times.

My parents had about a dozen neighbours who in turn had at least two kids so we were a huge group of noisy/bratty/sweet/angelic/strange kids of every colour, shape and size. We girls used to stick together, along with our kid brother/sister in tow and head out to play marbles, chasing each other for no apparent reason, show off newly bought stuff – I once threw Jaya’s brand new eraser down the drain because I was so jealous!!! Poor thing cried like anything – I still feel guilty about it even now…

We were more than just neighbours forced to live next door to each other… we were like a part of a huge extended family that celebrated every festival with one another. I especially remember the wonderful Diwali times when we used to go mad bursting crackers and fireworks. The explosions that went off outside our homes made it sound as though a real war was literally going on. Christmas time used to bring in carol singers braving the cold winter night and singing beautiful hymns too.

I remember the sunny winter days where we used to gather around and have a picnic right in the front yard or sit on the long steps that led to a kid called Ubica’s house and eat oranges! Quite a unique name… wonder what it meant… We also used to hold dance shows where we showcased some of our best dancers in the neighbourhood. With me & another girl as the choreographers. I must say I have no idea what made me actually do all that….

We spent so much time of our childhood playing happily with one another that we didnt realize when it was that we grew up and by that time, we were already 16 and shifted base to all parts of the state/country. Its only now, after three whole decades do I realize what a wonderful childhood we had and what beautiful friendships we made during those precious years.

If only I could give my children (as and when, people… read on) some kind of childhood like that, I think I would have had half my job as a parent WELL DONE. To all my friends from those good old days…. thanks for making the first one and half decades of my life memorable.

If I had a chance to go back in time, I wouldnt change even one thing… except perhaps relive it happily all over again. And also not chuck Jaya’s new eraser down the drain ;)

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