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Showing posts with the label memories

When Wonder Dies...

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How many of you thought you'd become an astronaut when you grew up? How many of you thought you'd become a spy like James Bond? How many of you thought that because you did something better than others this one time in school, meant you were special? How many of you felt like you were born to do great things? I am sure, all of you. And how many of you are doing great things? Some of you? Many of you are earning well, have great families, and have something to live for, but is that the greatness you envisioned growing up? Probably not, right? All of us as children have this wonder for life, this excitement for the things to come. And as we grow up, most of us, lose this excitement. My uncle used to tell me that our creativity comes from this excitement - this wonder - the same excitement that gives children the ability to appreciate animated movies. This wonder, this penchant to believe in miracles, drives a lot of children. As they grow up, they are faced with one disillusionme

Mango, Jackfruit, Guava & Pigeons!

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Every now and then, I have moments where thinking about the present gets overwhelming and I resort to thinking about the past. And since the last several years of my life haven't been particularly pleasant, my mind wanders off to my childhood. If you have followed my blogs, you must have read the bits I have written about certain incidents from my childhood - be it the memories of having sweets with my father, triggered by "balushahi", or the various fragrances of trees and shrubs which take me back to a certain time in my life. While most of the time, I think about certain incidents that highlight my childhood, if I try to remember my childhood in general, I keep landing on visions of the backyard gardens of the several houses I have lived in.  The earliest one I remember was behind this house in Sector 31, Chandigarh. I can barely remember the house itself - it was one of those generic air force quarters, maroon bricks and a grey door and a mix of wall and barbed wires

Songs & Memories

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A friend of mine just forwarded a video of the song “Radha Kaise Na Jale” from the movie ’Lagaan’ and as I was listening to it, I was transported back in time when I had first heard this song. I remember they used to run the trailer of the movie between programs on the Zee Channel and I loved it. It was one of the first movies that I had been really excited about and I remember this because my grandfather had commented on my excitement. Ah, songs and the memories they bring with it. As of today, memories are all I have left of my family members. For each one of them, there are memories associated with certain songs. And I thought, why not write about the various songs that hold significance in my life in the form of memories they evoke, be it about my family members or certain moments in my life. My father was the OG music aficionado in the family. He had a Philips 2-in-1 music system and he would buy cassette tapes of his favorite albums. Kumar Sanu, Kishore Kumar, Asha Bhosle & U

He Lives in Me...

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We don't give death that much of thought. While so many communities believe in the concept of an after-life, I have never bought into the premise. I think when a person dies, they stop to exist. Because the identity of a person is more than their body, it's who they are, their relationships with others and their interactions. Death brings an abrupt end to the whole thing. I know because I have lost three of my closest family members in the last two decades.  "On the 8th of March, 2000, I lost my father. He'd been suffering from kidney failure and after a seven month ordeal followed by eight days in a coma, he opened his eyes, looked at me, smiled and passed away. My memories of him were that of a hero. I had worshipped him all my life. There was nothing he couldn't do. He loved me more than anything. And I'll never forget him." That's how I summarize my father or his memory, when somebody asks. Somewhere down the line, his whole role in my l

Balushahi - The Dad Connection

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The day before yesterday, the office cafeteria served Balushahi during lunch. I was in between a heated debate with some colleagues when I bit into the Balushahi. As the flaky sweet crumbled between my teeth, I was suddenly transported to another time, another place. I suddenly had tears in my eyes and a strange pain in my heart. This little piece of sweet had managed to remind of him, my father. Back in 1997-98, I lived in Choudwar, a little industrial settlement near the city of Cutack, with my father and a tyrannous caretaker who abused me. While the years spent in Choudwar, which eventually led to my father's death, were traumatic as hell, they're peppered with some of the fondest memories I have of my father. He had been mostly unaware of the hardships I was being subjected to at the hands of the woman he'd hired to take care of me. But he sensed that she was strict in her approach and every other evening, he'd take a break from work and sneaked me out f

Bhubaneswar: A Short-Lived Love Affair...

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I spent a year in Bhubaneswar nine years ago. I was fresh out of high school and had just enrolled into this vocational course. The course didn’t take much of my time. So, I spent the year participating in events to kill time and earn some dough. My other pastime: a tall and ambitious girl named Jyoti. Pay attention to the adjectives I use. We met each other during the first day of the course. I noticed her because she was smarter than the usual Odia girl, spoke well and carried herself with grace and gravity. She noticed me because I was “exactly the kind of spoilt, bratty and privileged asshole that she despised”. Well, that was how she perceived me. I was an extrovert at that point of time, overzealous and outspoken and you would also have judged me wrong had you met me then. I asked her if I could sit in the seat next to her and she said NO. What seventeen year old doesn’t love a challenge. I didn’t know why this girl was averse to me but I instantly knew I had to charm

A Selfie with Dad...

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Just the other night, I had this weird little dream. I was on a family vacation with my father. He looked young as he always used to and I was my present age. As it usually is with dreams, you tend to forget the details. So I am having hard time remembering where we were. All I remember is that there was water in the background and I was trying to make my father pose with me for a selfie. After several attempts I got it right. And I remember feeling in my dream that this selfie was really special, even though I couldn't figure out why. Frankly, I am not a big fan of selfies anymore. It wasn't until I woke up from the dream that I realized why that selfie was so special. My father has been dead for sixteen years and that picture could never exist. It was a strange feeling dreaming about him. I know this must sound like a very silly thing to write about.  But there was something about how I felt in the dream. A kind of serenity that I haven't felt in years. My

Stupid High School Romance...

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My teenage was slightly different than that of my peers. While they spent most of it obsessing over girls they couldn't get, I spent it obsessing over the girl that I had got. I had a steady girlfriend all through school and I spent most of my time with her. It seems kind of unlikely and hard to believe now but that’s how it was. I had described her in an earlier post and it led to people thinking that I was a major womaniser but that won’t be an accurate description. It was just one girl and it started pretty early on and lasted longer than usual. We were together for over six years, Megha (name changed) and I, and it was almost amazing. I say “almost” coz we ended things on really bad terms. When I look back now, I can be objective about it. I am older and a lot more mature than I was then. Like many people, I too take pleasure in analysing my past and thinking about how things could have been different. It’s a futile exercise, I am aware, but I can’t help it at times

SJC Sambalpur: Those Were the Days!!!

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Before the utter anonymity of adulthood settled in, were those six wonderful years I spent at St. Joseph’s Convent Higher Secondary School, Sambalpur. The school that became a part of who I am today. The school that helped me discover myself. I joined SJC in 2001. Class 7C. It was a whole different world inside the school premises. The mediocrity of the town it is situated in has absolutely no effect on the culture & class of this school. I was overwhelmed for maybe a second, after which I knew this was where I belonged. I wasn't a great student, as far as grades were concerned, but I was sharp and an extrovert. I excelled in the subjects that I liked, English in particular. And that always kept me in teachers’ radar. And I was a major attention junkie. So, I soon found myself performing on stage on every possible occasion. And that, I feel is the greatest gift that SJC gave me. From a nervous self-doubting 11-year old to a confident optimistic 17-year old,