Roomies

Shivani and Dinesh Kumar Mehta were having a heated discussion with their daughter Devika.

"I don't want to stay in a hostel again Mummy. Why can't I do my M.Sc. from DU itself? This way I'll get to be at home." cried Devika. "I am tired of small rooms, prying room mates, lack of privacy, horrible mess food, discipline...! "

"I understand that. But how many times will I have to tell you that even if you do your M.Sc. from DU you'd still have to go to hostel." retorted said her mother irritatedly.

"At least I will get to come home on the weekends."

"Do not act like a baby Devika! And I just can't believe that you are willing to give up the opportunity of studying at an IIT? The ratio of number of girls to boys who get into IIT is really small. You are one of those select few girls and you want to give it all away!! There are millions out there who would do anything to be in your place." Shivani Mehta was boiling now.

"But I am not one of them!" lamented Devika.

"That's enough.” said Mr. D. K. Mehta angrily, “In a fortnight Mummy will take you to Mumbai to get you admitted at IIT Bombay. Start preparing for it. And you dare not leave any important shopping for the last minute. I am not going to hear any excuses. Okay?"

Devika knew that was the end of the discussion. She would have to do her parent's bidding. Over the next two weeks she reluctantly forced herself to collect things that she would need for her stay in the hostel. With every item that she packed she developed resentment against Mr. and Mrs. Mehta. Her anger didn’t subside even as the day to leave arrived. She barely said a word to her father before boarding the plane and wasn’t very communicative with her mother during the flight from Delhi to Mumbai.

On reaching the campus mother and daughter had their hands full. There were a lot of formalities to be completed which had them shuttling between the Department, Administrative Section, Bank and Hostel. It was nearing evening when they sat face to face with Shobha ji, the Hostel Manager. After going through the office registers she informed Devika:

“I have allotted you room number 156. Your roommate is going to be a Vaishali Kapoor. You’ll be happy to know she is from Delhi too. She has already taken possession of the room. Since you have paid the hostel fees you can join her right away.”

“Thank you, Madam.”

On stepping out of the Manager’s office Devika asked her mother,

“Mamma… you’ll be coming insi- ?”

“I am afraid not. I can’t come inside with you. A little more delay and I won’t be able to reach the airport on time to catch my flight.”

“FINE. LET ME NOT KEEP YOU ANY LONGER.” With that Devika instantly picked her suitcases and turned away without even saying a goodbye.

Her anger however cooled somewhat as she came across a familiar atmosphere in Hostel-10. Shrieks of excitement could be heard from some parts. “Must be girls meeting after the summer break.” Someone was playing music loudly. She passed through a corridor where three girls were talking softly. “Freshies… getting to know each other.” Finally she saw the number 156 written over one door. “Okay… let’s do it.” Taking a deep breath she knocked and the door opened.

“Hello! My name is Devika Mehta. I have also been allotted this room.”

A woman in her later forties greeted her excitedly, “Come in. Come in. I am Mrs. Veena Kapoor, Vaishali’s mother. Vaishali look you have a roommate!”

As Devika entered the room she saw that it was filled with half a dozen suitcases. There were ten plastic bags of eatables that could feed a family of four for a month which were lying on her bed. Vaishali realized that there was practically no space for the new girl to keep her belongings. She somehow cleared out a little bit of the mess which allowed Devika to put her suitcases in one corner and sit on her bed. Devika was shocked to find that it was Mrs. Veena Kapoor who was taking things out from the suitcases and putting them in the cupboard. Her disapproving looks didn’t go unnoticed by Vaishali who then cried saying,

“Maa… I’ll do all this myself later on. Leave it now. Hadn’t I told you that we’ve brought too much food? See there is not enough place to keep all the goodies. You know they have a fully functioning mess here. I am not going to starve, don’t worry!”

“But beta… what if you feel hungry at some odd time? Anyway now nothing can be done. And why leave all this unpacking for later? Waise bhi you are not used to doing all this. Since I still have hours to kill so let me do it for you.”

“How will I learn to do things on my own until you let me? Aren’t you tired? Shouldn’t you go to the guest house and relax? Daddy must be getting bored without you.”

“Why are you trying to push me off like this? I am not going be seeing you now before December. I am staying her for another 60 minutes. I’ll miss you so much baccha!” declared Mrs. Veena Kapoor with eyes filling with drops of water.

Vaishali hugged her. “Oh Maa!! Don’t worry. You’ll be fine and so will I.”

“Urgggh. CAN’T BELIEVE THIS GIRL IS 20 YEARS OLD!! OH GOD!! I HATE MY ROOMIE ALREADY.”, thought Devika and gave a snort.

Vaishali heard the snort clearly and said to herself, “WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS!! MISS HIGH AND MIGHTY!! HUH! I HATE MY ROOMIE ALREADY.”

This was the starting point of Vaishali and Devika’s mutual dislike. Much against their wishes they found themselves not only roommates but classmates as well. They maintained a stony silence in their common abode and sat as far apart as possible during lectures. Their friend circle was also different such that they did not have to hang around in the same group in the evenings. To make matters worse the two were competitive when it cames to studies. Professors too invariably pitted one against the other.

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Time had flown since Devika and Vaishali’s first encounter in H-10. They were now just two weeks away from the commencement of the mid-semester exams when Head of the Department, Prof. K. Shastri announced one morning,

“We have started a new collaboration with Princeton University’s Chemistry Department under which the topper of the upcoming exams will be sent to work there for a month under a professor of their choice. Those interested its time to pull up your socks.”

This provided a newfound gusto to Devika and Vaishali and they plunged into their books. The exam schedule that had been set up was a grueling one with no gaps between consecutive papers. On 17^th September, 2001 they gave their fifth exam and now had only one more paper of Analytical Chemistry to go. This exam was to take place the next day. It was going to be a tough end since there was a lot of study material to go through. At about 10 p.m. Devika walked into her room feeling tired and exhausted when she found Vaishali crying. The sight worried her and she asked her,

“What happened? Is everything alright?”

Between sobs Vaishali narrated the whole story. “I gave my Analytical Chemistry notes to Sanjay. He said he’ll get them photocopied and return them to me in an hour’s time. That was at 4 o’clock and there is no sign of him yet. I’ve tried contacting him but to no avail. I called his friends Amit and Karan but they are also saying they haven't seen Sanjay in the hostel. The thing is that since I had made such detailed notes I hadn’t issued certain books from the library for tomorrow’s exam. So I went to the library sometime back but those books are issued. And now I don’t know what to do??”

“I didn’t know Sanjay could be such a jerk. But we’ll see about that later. For now why don’t you use my notes? I also have two books with me. You can choose one of them and start studying. After two hours we can switch and then again switch later if we are still awake. What do you say?”

Vaishali was stunned at this unexpected generosity.

“Do I take your silence as a yes? Hurry up then. Dry your tears and get going.” Devika said sweetly.

The mid-semester exam results were displayed on the Notice Board a week later from this incident. Vaishali had topped while Devika came a near second. They had been neck to neck in all courses except one. In the last paper of Ananlytical Chemistry Vaishali had actually managed to score much better marks than Devika. She was informed by the Prof. K. Shastri that she should start preparing for her trip to Princeton. IIT Bombay would be providing all the required financial support and her stay will be arranged by Princeton University. But she would have to get a visa on her own. Vaishali wondered that even if she got the visa would she still be able to make the trip. How was she ever going to convince her parents?

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Story to be continued in next post.
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Boys versus girls

This cartoon tells how difficult a life we girls have as compared to the guys. :-) Click on the picture to see an enlarged version and enjoy the cartoon.

Board exams

During our entire schooling the two years when we sit for the CBSE exams in classes 10th and 12th are labeled as "crucial" years. I remember being reminded time and again how important the numbers on our mark sheets were, how our final percentages would completely shape our lives and how if we studied hard in these two years our future would be set. I can say for myself that I absolutely believed this. And it seems that people still hold this notion.

Last week the day after the class 10th results were announced there were interviews of students who had topped and even those who nearly topped. A boy said that he was 50% happy and 50% disappointed with his marks because he missed coming first in his school by a mere 0.80%. Shouldn't a 0.8% difference have made him only 0.8% less happy? Instead of celebrating that he has come second amongst hundreds, he is brooding that he didn't come first!!

Of course the boy is yet to discover that his 10th class pass certificate will be come useful only as a proof of age. Nobody will ask him when he takes up a job how many marks he scored.

One's class 12th percentage perhaps make somewhat of a difference. Colleges admit students who have attained marks above or equal to a certain cut-off. But how many of us eventually continue in the same stream as our graduation subjects? And did all those who didn't receive "good marks" in school become utter failures later on? Clearly not.

Not only the students but their parents need to realize this as well. Sometimes it is the parents who generate the competitive heat from the very beginning. Once my sister's friend came second in her final exams when she was in class 6th. The mother of the boy who came first congratulated her jubilantly saying "Thanks for coming second!"

I guess what I am trying to say is this that its high time the myth around these so called crucial years was dispelled. It would surely bring down the stress levels for the youngsters. Always close on the heels of Board exam results being announced we come across news of kids committing suicide because they were disgruntled with their performance. Teachers and parents must help release the high voltage tension by making children realize that poor exam results are not life altering nor are they reflective of their capabilities or character. There is nothing wrong in wanting to become a winner as long as that doesn't become the be all and end all.

Collage of dreams

Last to last weekend I was alone at home and as always no nice movie that I hadn't seen before was coming on tv. I wanted to do something creative but not by writing. I still had a huge card board to myself left over from my previous attempt at art work. So I was tempted to use it.

I had caught this episode on Pogo (again!) where the anchor was telling kids (like me!!) how they could make a poster for their bedroom door. All you needed were old useless magazines, gum and a card board/chart paper. Just cut out different interesting looking alphabets in large font and pictures that attract you. Like if you love a particular actor then you could take a bunch of his photos. Or if you liked rock music then you could use cuttings of rock bands and their instruments like drums. If you love flowers then pick out your favorite ones from the magazines. Use a series of alphabets to construct a special phrase like "Do not enter!" or "Enter at your own risk!" or "Only meant for Aamir Khan!!" which reflects your personality and the type of photographs you picked. Then arrange them in the manner you like and once decided on the positions paste all the pieces.

I didn't exactly follow this procedure. As I was going through the magazines some words caught my attention. I realized the reason was these are things that I dream of... wishes that I want to come true. So instead of only taking alphabets I cut out full words. Sometimes I used scissors to get a fine edge while some I cut roughly by hands like is the style while making a collage. To break the monotony in a few places I added photos and allowed them to overlap with my "dreams".

The final result I have put on my bedroom's door and for those who don't have access to it here below.

A Bus Ticket (concluding part)

This is the the second and final part of my story A Bus Ticket. For a refresher of how it began click here.

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Three months back Umesh had lost his mother to cancer. She had always been the mode of communication between his father and him. If it had been difficult talking to his father even during the long period of his mother’s loosing battle with the disease then since her death the situation had worsened. The father and son just didn't have anything to say to each other. The awkward stretches of quiet were killing Umesh. Sr. Tandon too didn’t raise any objections either when his son moved out a month later. Since then Umesh had been staying in a flat on rent. But he found no peace of mind. He felt uneasy whenever he pictured his father living alone in the bungalow. He had made several attempts to go back but being too scared to face his father he had never gone a foot beyond the bus stop.

Today once again he was standing at the same bus stop. Unbelievably he found himself practically repeating that girl’s philosophy,

“I had the courage to buy this ticket and come this far. I can surely go all the way now.”

Umesh started walking towards his destination. Whenever he thought he wouldn’t be able to take that one extra stride he would take a peek at his bus ticket and his fear would dispel. By the time he reached the dreaded door and rang the bell he was convinced of the magic the fragment of paper withheld.

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The Delhi Exhibition cum Convention Centre was brimming with activity. It was the venue for the 15^th International Conference on Computational Materials Science, December 2010. Thousands of delegates had come from India and rest of the world. Six sessions had been running in parallel for the past two days. It was nearing 1 pm now and hoards of feet had already found their way into the grand hall, forming the heart of the Centre, holding the lunch. The hall was decorated with grandiose chandeliers, perfect lighting and beautiful floral arrangements.

A group of young Indian scientists was sitting around one table. Two of them were having a serious discussion which got interrupted by someone exclaiming,

“Hey Mihika! Isn’t that thing yours?”

“Haan? What did you say Prajakta?”

“Come here.”

“What is it Prajakta?”

“Isn’t that your famous bus ticket which is lying on the floor?”

“Show-show.”

Mihika scrutinized the bus ticket and found her special mark of 15 July, 2001 on it. Relieved to find she hadn’t lost something so precious to her she decided to quickly keep it back safely. But when she opened her purse she saw a bus ticket already there and that too with the same inscription.

“How is this possible? Prajakta were you trying to fool me?”

“Noooo way!”

“She’s right. The first ticket belongs to me.”, came a man’s voice from behind, “It probably fell from my wallet.”

Mihika was just stunned. The resemblance was too striking. Memory of a boy’s face was still afresh as if it was just yesterday she’d seen him. The man too seemed to be looking equally stumped.

“We have met before.”, Mihika proclaimed.

“15th July, 2001.”, declared the man. “Yeah. A lot of time has past since that bus ride. Let me formally introduce myself. I am Dr. Umesh Tandon.”

“Hi! I am Dr. Mihika Sharma. Ummm… would you be interested in catching up over lunch? To be honest I am feeling a bit hungry.”

With their plates full they began exchanging notes. Mihika confessed to Umesh that she had waited many a days at the bus stop in Delhi hoping to see him. He acknowledged having resolving his differences with his father after getting off the bus following which he had shifted back vacating his rented apartment. It came as a surprise to both of them that despite not meeting each other specially with their education being in different institutes, cities and even countries they had eventually landed up doing research in the same field. They had even come across each others scientific papers while being completely oblivious of the fact that they were acquainted. On the personal front too they too had traveled a similar road. They’d made long lasting friendships, had spats, pissed off some seniors, fought rivals, faced tragedies, had heartaches, discovered love and found life partners and had got married.

“So your bus ticket worked through all that, Mihika?”, asked Umesh.

“Well sometimes it was really hard for to believe in its power. But whenever I wavered I remembered that while parting ways with you I had said in time I would prove you wrong. I had no choice but to go on doing that. What if one day we met and you questioned me?

What about you? Did your bus ticket help you accomplish every thing?”

“Yeah it did. You know why... because I had no choice either. I wanted to prove you right however difficult the situation.”, admitted a laughing Umesh.

“Hehehehe. It looks like we’ve been the reason behind each others success. This”, said Mihika picking up her bus ticket, “seems not to really have any magic in it.”

“I disagree with you. And it looks like you have lost your conviction. In that case there is only one thing left for me to do.”

“And that is?”

“In time I have to prove you wrong Mihika.”

“This means we have a rendezvous 10 years from now Umesh.”

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THE END

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PS: If you've reached this far then it hopefully means you've read the whole story. This is my first attempt at story writing. So want your comments. But please don't be too hard or harsh. :D

A Bus Ticket

South Delhi’s Sharma household was in a state of anxiousness. Their daughter Mihika had always had a sheltered life and today was going to be her first day in college. She had never moved around the city alone and now she would have to commute all the way from home to North Campus on her own. Both the parents were worried if she would manage to reach her destination and back, safe and sound.

Mihika on the other hand was full of excitement. In a few minutes she was going to make a foray into a new world. It was going to be goodbye school and welcome independence. No wonder she couldn't even finish one aloo ka paratha for breakfast which normally she would have happily devoured.

The clock was showing 7.45 am and the U-special would be arriving in 15 minutes time. Mihika quickly washed her hands, grabbed her bag and had one last look at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her lucky kurta today. In addition just before leaving she took two teaspoons of dahi-shakkar from her mother's hands exactly the way she used to before going for every exam in school.

As she left the threshold of her home Mihika could feel the spring in her step and the thumping of her heart, the two playing a jugalbandi. She met quite a few "couples" on the way to the bus stop. Mr. and Mrs. Khanna, Mr. and Mrs. Ghosh and Mr. and Mrs. Rao were all returning from their regular morning walks in the nearby garden. They were neighbors of many years who had seen her grow up since she was a toddler. She quickly shared her excitement with them and they in turn wished her the very best.

She managed to reach the bus stop with still a few minutes to spare. Mihika was relieved to see some college going type youngsters standing there. So obviously her bus was yet to come. Comforted by the sight she gave in to the many imaginings of the life ahead swirling in her mind. She was merrily lost in her world when she heard a boy ask her,

"Don't you want to take the U-special? Haven't you been waiting for it?"

"What? Yeah. Where is it?" asked Mihika, "I can't see it!!"

"Well. It’s right there in front of you!!!"

"THAT... THAT HORRIBLE DELAPIDATED D.T.C.?"

"What were you expecting… a luxury liner?"

Recovering from her shock Mihika hurriedly got inside the bus. She bought a ticket and took a seat. Initially she felt hot under the skin as her stupidity dawned on her. But within seconds she burst out laughing. She looked at her bus ticket with shining eyes sighing,

"I have a long way to go. A long way."

"Yeah. About another 30 more minutes."

Without realizing she started clarifying herself, "I meant something else." Apparently that same boy, who had brought her out of her reverie earlier on, had been sitting next to her all this while and had heard her mutterings. Not wanting to talk to a stranger she directed her gaze to the ticket and silence prevailed for the next few minutes.

"You seem to be holding that as if it is some kind of a treasure. And may I ask what was that something else?" There was a genuine curiosity in the boy's voice. Torn apart between the decision of speaking or not speaking, Mihika took her time to eventually shyly and slowly answer,

"This bus ticket is very special to me. It symbolizes what I am capable of."

"THIS PLAIN TICKET?"

"Yeah. You see I’ve always been rather dependent on Mummy and Daddy for everything. But I decided from today I would change this. I insisted on them not dropping me to college even on the first day. They were so stressed out all morning.

So the fact that in spite of their apprehensiveness I managed to buy this plain ticket shows that I am not afraid to speak up, that I am not afraid of stepping into the unknown, that I am not afraid of trying things on my own and that I can do things on my own even when others may think I can't.

You know what… I am going to keep this ticket with me forever. And whenever I will have misgivings or doubts about myself I will look at it and regain my lost confidence.”

Much to the boy’s surprise these words didn’t sound like some boring lecture. There was an infectious earnestness in Mihika's voice. But he couldn’t bring himself to agree with her and so remarked,

“You make it sound too simple. But life is not like that. It is not a smooth ride. There will be many ups and downs. Your mistakes won’t always be as silly like the stupid notion you were carrying of the U-special being a Volvo bus. Some will be much more severe.”

“I know. That’s why I said that I have a long way to go. But I also know that if I believe in the magic of my first bus ticket then its effect will never wear out." Seeing his irresolute looks she said grinning, “I can make out that you are not convinced. In that case there is only one thing I can do and that is in time to prove you wrong.”

“I would have prolonged this discussion but I need to take your leave now. The next stop is mine. So I got to go. Bbye.” With this Umesh Tandon got up from his seat, hurried towards the front of the bus and was off the bus as it came to a halt. Reeling under the effect of his unusual bus ride he realized that he was actually smiling for the first time in many days.

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For the concluding part of this story see the next post.

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Patient timing

I woke up about 40 min back and as I was making my bed tea still half asleep I ended up complaining:

"I seem to be running out of patience for two kinds of things.
Those which I can't wait for to end.
And those which I just can't to wait to start."

This quote obviously had nothing to do with my act of making tea. It was a result of the dream that I had just before getting up. The dream I am going to keep a secret. What I will reveal is that I suddenly found myself wide awake as I started thinking a little bit more about my pronouncement.

If there were only two such types of events in my life then I would be happy with the rate at which time has been running for me. But it was only yesterday when I asked a friend of mine whether there was some way I could slow it down. Which means there are other situations belonging to a third category that are also occurring. These are the ones which require a long spell in order to work out in the end and thus are the ones which test our patience.

I guess a solution to my woes would be if I could work in two different time zones - slow and fast. Then by going back and forth I could make the things for which I had no restraint happen quickly without having to wait for the long drawn out periods to get over first.

Mother's Day

"India is a land of festivals." Thats how we used to begin our essays in school on the topics of diwali and holi. These festivals are now celebrated even in Hindi tv serials and other programmes where stories and epsiodes are specially woven around these joyous occasions. The idea is to give the TRPs a boost. TRPs or television rating points are the criteria that indicate the popularity of a TV channel or programme and form the basis on which advertisers decide on which channel, time and programme to sell their products.

Today is Mother's Day. So on the 10th May's episode of the singing competition Jo Jeeta Wohi Superstar (JJWS) shown on Star Plus all the participants had to sing their mother's favourite songs. The episode obviously was not limited to just singing. There was a tide of emotions throughout the one and a half hour telecast. At one particular juncture everyone was found crying. Not just the participants and their mothers but also the judges, host and entire audience and nearly me as well.

While I dislike such acts to gain sympathy votes and brownie points, I couldn't help but come to one conclusion from all the stories which I heard that night... that allover mothers are just the same. They are loving, caring and forever willing to make sacrifices. They constantly think about their children's future and try to meet their demands however difficult the circumstances. They never flinch and never ever complain. Yet we take our mothers for granted. In fact sometimes they are at the receiving end of our ire even when they are not the real source of our rising tempers. We often don't say the things that we really should be saying.

Lest we regret it later let us take this one moment to say thanks to and shower hugs and kisses on that wonderful woman in our lives. Let us not forget the proverb:

"God could not be everywhere
and so he made mothers."

Let us give our mothers the appreciation and applause that they are so worthy of.

Happy Mother's Day, Mummy!!

A matter of time

There is a lady whom I meet pretty often at the NCL bus stop in the evenings. Since we stay in the same locality and so if our timings match we end up taking the same bus or sharing a rick home. Whenever we part ways on reaching our destination she has one dialogue "Chalo, ek aur din khatam ho gaya." meaning another day has gone by. She says this with great relief.

Much to my alarm, I seem to be counting time in units of months as if the year 2008 is just slipping away without knowing. As if it was 1st of Jan yesterday and we were all joking about new year resolutions and within a span of 24 hours today May has come months in advance.

Is it just me for whom time is flying? I hope I am not alone in the boat. I'd be happier with some company.

Blame game

A few weeks back I saw the film Gandhi My Father which follows the relationship between Mahatma Gandhi (Darshan Jariwala) and his eldest son Harilal Gandhi (Akshaye Khanna). Initially Harilal makes every effort to fulfill his father's wishes. He joins him in South Africa leaving his pregnant wife behind. He is the first volunteer who accepts all the charges leveled against him in court and decides to spend time in jail instead of agreeing to pay a fine. On returning Harilal continues to work for his father. But when despite that Gandhi ji sends twice someone else on scholarship to London for studying law, a lifelong dream of Harilal's, he feels let down. Disgruntled and unwilling to follow his father's footsteps the son decides to go a separate way.

Harilal's life goes through a series of troughs and ridges with the downs lasting much longer. Whenever things seem to be going well the tide suddenly changes. He is unable to his live up to his earlier reputation of Chota Gandhi. Even his wife who initially stands behind him later on leaves Harilal as he takes to drinking and other bad habits. Over the years Harilal is involved in cases of embezzlement in the place he was working and duping innocent people using his father's name. Gandhi ji finally legally disassociates himself from any of Harilal's future activities. While advising a victim to lodge a police complaint against Harilal, Gandhi ji questions sadly that as a father he has done a lot for his son but how long can he go on saving him from his misadventures.

The film ends with showing that Harilal starts living like a vagabond and dies in a hospital a destitute, with no family member near him to hold his hands, a few months after Gandhi ji's assassination.

Who is to blame for Harilal's sorry state? Initially the father seems responsible for the son's disillusionment. Gandhi ji's philosophy that there are more important things to learn in life than getting an education keeps his son away from becoming a barrister. But when Harilal is allowed to lead life his own way, he fails to acquire the degree. He gets involved in wrong doings sometimes by pure naivety. Surely, the onus cannot be put on his father on these occasions.

In the film Baghban when the parents (Amitabh Bachchan and Hema Malini) are separated at the hands of their children and are even horribly mistreated by them, the mother questions whether somewhere she was responsible for her children turning out this way. Her husband disagrees and says that each person is accountable for his/her own acts.

I therefore appreciate Geet's (Kareena Kapoor) philosophy in Jab We Met. She admits that life is her favorite game and whatever decisions she takes are her own so that later on she doesn't regret missing out on something. Geet acknowledges at the same time that even if she falls in trouble for her actions it will be because of the choices that she made and not somebody else.

In our lives too we take many decisions. Those particularly related to career and marriage knowingly and unknowingly get influenced by our family's thoughts. But even if its the former case, I believe that ultimately we should ourselves shoulder the responsibility of the decision made and its consequences thereafter. We should stop saying all the time that "I did this for my parents, siblings, wife/husband or children."

Whatever the reason the choice is always ours. So grin and bear.