Class Xth

Changing days of life

Lots of people told me things about adolescence: something has to happen, something odd. I didn't give it a damn until something of the sort happened to me.

First thing my voice cracked or rather croaked every time I spoke. People found it so hard to adjust. Even the best of friends. So, that put me off. The teachers used to make it worse by saying, "We know how grown-up you are" even if I slightly raised voice in the class.

I was starting to lose respect for every teacher around, I got angry at the slightest of remarks. Regretted it as well because I wasn't like that before and I didn't like the change. The only classes I could really focus and like were Maths and English.

It was getting very difficult to understand what was being taught in the tuition classes. I felt like a complete moron there in front of the others. It was my first brush with peer pressure and I succumbed badly to it. 

12 years at the same school with the last one blemishing. Hence leaving school wasn't painful. Actually, it excited me about the next phase instead of longing for the one gone by.

Transition.

Breakdown

With a Parker pen in hand for thought,

Through the sweet scent of the land, an answer I sought...

It drives you crazy, as you discover life
If its learning, then why the strife?

True, time does find us loving ones

But as they say, every rose has its thorns...

The truth, from the ramblings of a shackled mind,
Tells you how much the world can be blind.

Twas' great to know I started to put my brain to use,
I stopped working then, that's troubling news...

Cool yet stressed, sleepy yet awake,
Putting things one after another at stake.

I'm not organized, I wondered why?
At the bottom of my heart I want to cry...

What I want, could it ever be what I deserve?
There's a lot of tension building, testing my nerve.

A little peace, a little play, a little care
Promise to pay more than the fare...

It rained today, the last beautiful thing
Told me to step ahead, requires careful thinking

Since I think positive, I will tell this to myself
If you haven't crashed yet, you are not going fast enough...

In loving memory...

In the 1980's nearly fifty students thronged a particular house in order to write a serious entrance test. Only seven out of the fifty would be selected; only seven, no matter how many recommendations would come for a particular candidate or how much ever influence was showered upon Sir. All seven of them made it into the IIT's and this trend continued for fifteen years.
Nothing short of excellence. That was Bhat Sir. The passion he had for mathematics extended well beyond conventional barriers; beyond what other professors could only talk but never believe. For, he taught with such rigour, with such ease, that it was simply impossible to overlook his efforts to make the students understand the concepts. At the same time he was also curious to hear any point the students have to make. His logic was crisp. A practical and direct approach that could tackle any kind of problem and indeed build newer applications. There were loads of time in the classroom you could hear the students marvel at sir's ideas, by taking sharp breaths or making sudden gasps. Simple yet powerful he would say.

His library

Books. Books. And even more books. From the first edition to the latest edition; books from over an entire century, he would never miss the chance to search for a newer book and work out every problem from it. We had an opportunity once to see his library. On first sight it looked like a small room lined with a row of books. A closer look: In fact, it was a room lined with three to four rows of books, piled neatly from top to bottom and there were even written notes. They looked golden in the light of the bulb with his neat and precise writing.

Some of his favourites

The batches really close sir were the ones whom he had coached for IIT entrance examination, there would be altogether around two hundred students. There were many a students who have achieved great things and continue to do so. He told us that what took them ahead was commitment towards the subject and to the task at hand.


He had once advised us from his own experience:
When you want to leave a bad habit, you cannot get rid of it gradually over a period of time. You need to realize why it is bad and then leave it once and for all.

Unforgettable moments

Sir was very fluent with jokes and he believed that learning cannot take place without some breaks in between since that would refresh the mind and relax it. There were many a days when we used to recollect the jokes and roll on the ground with laughter, many a times we would want to have recorded what sir said, it was never to be.


Sir might never know how difficult it was to fight back tears on hearing he was no more, but the respect and concern we have for him in our hearts will never die. He would definitely be happy knowing that there are students out there he had taught, who have understood and appreciated mathematics....

Mr. Dhobi

Functions of a dhobi ( the laundry boy ) :
i) to wash the clothes and remove the stains, if any;
ii) to iron them properly;
iii) to return them promptly to the owner and
iv) to record the entries in a register.
All of them do it here, in every hostel with a small hitch. Here are a few advertisements that may go on air in a few months from now.

1) Are your clothes blue, black or red? Do you want them clean and achieve dazzling whiteness in just two months? Presenting to you, the VK dhobi.... tantatttouw



He's gonna wring them, swing them and lash them on the ground until there is no sign of colour. And what's more, he's going to use paan-flavoured surf excel for rinsing. Aahh! the aroma of chewed-spat-away paan, pleasing your senses and driving away people for nearly ten yards around you.
"Dhobi ne paan kaya { Dhobi had betel leaves
And drove away passers-by}
aur sab ko bagaya."

2) Do you need steam-iron like ironing @ primitive iron boxes? Well' seriously; this is the only thing he does really well. Ironing! Crisp and without any wrinkles. Even underwear; but still you are supposed to avail the free paan flavour. ( Offer till semester lasts ) .

3) Have you ever played treasure hunt? Do you want to spend the first month of the year searching in other people's wardrobes? No? Well then you better try calling: 1-800-81-00-00.
Oh YA! We're gonna find your clothes in less than half-hour @ $1.75/min. Special reduction for paanwaala-dhobi @ $1.50/min. ( Paan tho vaise bhi milega saab, dhobi hai na : " dhobi is going to give anyways " ).

4) Have you ever paid for the same month over and over again? Do you have trouble remebering how many clothes you have permitted the dhobi to spoil for you? We bring you




Its sure to last you eight semesters and maybe even eighty, if you write like this!!!



@ $3.50 a month it gives you immense pleasure when the dhobi innocently asks, " Bhaiya, aaj kapdey de raho kya?"
=> { Are you giving any clothes today, brother? }

The back Wingsters

We the wing

All of us had met at least one or more of the others at some point of time in 1st year but we never knew how we were going to tolerate being in the same wing. Knowing each other was a process that would have taken many years but being in the same wing it did not take us much time to find out about everyone and also a lot about ourself. Just a small introduction lest I'll be murdered ( I got to know that none of them support the Right to Write :P )

173- Lazy kc

174- Laddu the footballer

175- Muhaha... you-know-who

176- Psychological psycho

177- Smug woods

178- Mod, thinks he's God

179- Cleaning always

180- Ghotting, do not disturb

181- Spotted only in the morning

182- Wing topper

183- Fun-do Hari

184- #define MENACE

Well, we don't know if we will be in the same wing always but the memories will stand untarnished :)

hostel v/s home

June, 12th: 

I just finished my first year at BITS-Pilani. I have been home three times in between and now at the end of it. Its a little strange.Every time I come home I get the feeling that I have never left the place and every time I get back I feel the same about hostel. It leaves me bemused at times. Nobody wants to share the same feeling , not even my elder brother. I guess the coming years should hold an answer for this.Or is this a question of maturity?

September, 10th: Complete nonchalance. The beauty of sunrise through the window. I'm not complaining anymore.  

what does it mean

Well, I seem to understand why Ruskin Bond always wrote on the nostalagic issues basically because I've had things happen around me like that.
Train journeys are almost always fun, the longer journeys even more fascinating... one complete day or something like that. There are unforgettable experiences and they make us crave for more; not the episodes of Mr. ABC losing his slippers while sleeping or the coolie running away with his luggage.

1) It was December, 1996. On the train from Bengalooru to Hyderabad, my brother and I found two boys to play with: Nishtal and Zorawar. We played every possible game 7-year old's could think of, we even went on to tease each other, etc. Soon we said good night and our brief meeting came to an end in the morning aroun 5.00, I didn't remember a single thing of what had happened the night before and a wide yawn would've told you that I didn't even care.

2) 2001 ( sixth class summer hols ), there was this small boy on the Machlipatnam express ( was going to Kothagudem ) who was running around the compartment with alacrity, saying hello to every passenger aboard. It was a very funny sight. Well when it was my turn it went farther than hello's. We played the choicest of games, I ran around with him too, we shouted at the people on the roads ( something that got me into trouble a few years later ). Journey ended and he was destined to come into my memory only when I had started this blog, sorry buddy... but I do hope you would come across this...

3) TWIST:
Class seven: There was this giant of a boy called Zorawar Purohit who had flawless english ( and eyesight ), who was not from Hyderabad: something of a stranger to the rest of the class which knew that he would be gone by the end of the year. Friends soon. In the sixth month running I missed a beat when I suddenly realized that his name was actually Zorawar, the young kiddo on the train. Not wanting to wet myself with excitement, I asked him casually if he knew Nishtal. It turns out that Nishtal was actually a friend of his, not his brother as i thought. Then of course he asked me how I knew Nishtal, and the whole story came out. And guess what?? He remembers that night as much as I did. Yet again, indifferently, I let go without knowing wether I would ever see him again. Sorry mate.

4) Something the powerpuff girls wouldn't approve of:
October, 2007, AP Express. Headed to college with friends. We just got lucky that day when six of us who had booked the ticket together got upgraded to 2nd class AC. B2, i think. A small girl and her even smaller brother were on the side birth diagonally opposite, she was so mischievous.
Whenever she would wash her hands she would sprinkle the water on us. She threw banana skins at us. She tore the UNO cards we started playing with just because we weren't paying any attention. It was very difficult to take it easy and we couldn't get angry either. So atthis situation her mother, who had taken us into confidence, assures that she would be definitely awake by dinner time hands over her pretty daughter to us. Second thoughts of course, but we had no other work.
I don't know what had happened but she became very quiet and started behaving like a teddy bear saying all the cutie pie stuff; she wasn't a headache after all. We talked for sometime and before her mother woke up she had done some modern art and signed that paper with my name: something she found extremely uncomfortable as she had learnt only till G. Suffice to say that I have her name and the paper as a souvenir and have the strong belief that she will remember me.


So, the next time you are on a train: let it be a day or an hour, Do tell us your story...