Its official.

Finally, I made it to the Grand Yellow Robe ceremony- as one of my Juniors put it:) Ever since the announcement was made for the Convocation, lots of mixed responses- I dont want to attend, I dont wanna travel, I'm not interested. Man, its my degree, and I am going there- people to be met (read hugged), casualities to be exchanged and moments to go nostalgic about- I am attending it.
Nothing really great about it, my University loves complicating matters, and some really couldn make it, for which I felt bad; and some dint turn up- Thats alryt :| And finally- the robe ceremony happened. A previous day stay at an old friend's place- I planned it out with her because I wanted to catch up with her like really a hell lot; we relived a lot of moments and spoke our hearts out- never was a night that peaceful as I slept with those thoughts. And the customary trip the next day to Coll from Trichy- and ya, gossip updates :-P
Post registration- the waiting- interspersed with "Hey you! Really long!" between great bear hugs; some forging the past between them and getting together- Sigh! Why is every thing seeming nice at the end? Then the procession and seating, followed by further gossip update sessions- for a moment my Under Graduation Degree seemed important :)
Inspiring speech sessions- for once my University had some thing memorable to do with us- APJ Abdul Kalam- Whatte man!
And then the 'epic' moment- Degree on stage; Congratulations, Hand shakes and hugs off stage- Awww. LOL.
And then came the moment I waited for- I had actually gone all the way only for those two Angels in my life- Brindha and Ramya. Post the ceremony, I waited to meet them- and finally realised something- these were the sisters I never had. The moment I saw them, every thing flashed past- Introducing ourselves as senior-junior room mates in third year, to just waiting to meet up on Convo. God bless them with every thing, I say. They love me for what I am, and they make me feel special. Being loved is the bestest feeling in the world, apart from being missed, I say. And one tight hug between us did it all- So is their charm. Both of them have been through enough in life, and I simply wish them peace of mind from now, and I so miss being with them and that very room, too. A couple of hours between us, and finally again, a Good Bye between us- I hate send offs, and being sent off, too. Separation aches. Really. And as I walked past the main gate- some thing mattered more to me than that very degree in my hand- tonnes of love between us- Love you both, all time; I wish I could freeze the moments between us that day.
I thank God for all their love; and hope we prosper in life.

And it really is over

Yes it is. It really is. And I am not going back there. I keep repeating this to myself time and again. Until the feeling sinks in. The whole of four years moved swiftly in the blink of an eye. And it gave a new me. A whole new, happy and relaxed me.
I still remember the very first moment the whole idea of a hostel stay sprung up in my mind. I always had a feeling to stay in a hostel for at least once in my lifetime. And it really happened.

First, a big thanks to my mother for suggesting applying to SASTRA. I dint give it a second thought since the day the admission procedure was announced. I was happy that I got to study a subject of my choice, will and wish-- "If Engineering, then only bio tech" was what I had planned. And on hearing facts like Bio tech was going to be an amalgam of chemistry and biology, my only passions since school, it made me happier. I looked forward to an experience with a wide variety of people from all places.

Getting back from counseling, setting things for the hostel stay, getting to know some one’s some body doing some thing there, phone calls, time management at home and waiting with all the excitement- it was fun from day 0.

And then moving into my allotted room for first year- an 8 in 1 room- was looking forward to having fun with 7 others. Initial days were nice. Every one was new to each other, people dint intrude much into the other one’s space, even the tasteless mess food seemed delicious in the company of people, it continued to do so until the end; and eating became an event to celebrate with noise and gossip in the mess in the days to come by.

“Ragging”, or rather bullying; scurrying up post dinner with lights turned off to pretend we were asleep; all to avoid those seniors banging up at the door in the name of bullying (They were supposed to be kind hearted- they never troubled the sleeping souls); the don’t-go-to-the-canteen-library-tifac core-alone –or-as-groups-of-girls advice being said n no of times by every senior who ragged us in the hostel (“Beware! Guys will rag you!”;-)); being “summoned” by those seniors for ragging sessions in their rooms, watching people smitten by home sickness all around me; looong talks with people at home, each living moment was new. It got newer. And then the anti ragging sessions, things getting serious, staff intervention, and finally some relief. We dint have to pretend as if we were asleep any more. The visitors’ weekends were full of parents in the hostel lawn- “You got tanned. You have lost weight. You look dull. Eat well. Study well. Pray every day”. Regular casual statements those parents normally issued.

Waking up “Early”. Rush hour to stand in the wash room queue. Again, fights there. Seniors intervention, sorry intrusion, at a place that was never theirs. Stares. Long stares. Hurried dressing up. Waking up the others. Some who took all the time in the world to dress themselves up. Some who dint bother to bathe and attend college classes. The ones that slept thro the first hours. And when bunking was an issue. LOL.

Slowly and steadily room mates got to know each other better. Eating at the canteen was bliss. Browsing was exciting. Good night came in at around 1 or 2 am. Random barging into neighboring rooms. Talking endlessly despite language barriers. Things were fine.

The first open holiday back home. Train journey. The Trichy halt that became customary in the trips that followed. Getting back to share experiences at “Home”. And not to forget innumerable birthday celebrations at the hostel- when getting older seemed significant. And ideas sprang up to celebrate some one’s birthday.

Slowly problems started creeping. Real faces were unveiled. Jealousy. Vengeance. Back biting. And that taught me lessons for life- Beyond a point, give each one their space. Knowing too much of a person really complicates things between you both.

Exams were, actually, not bad. No travel tension. Studying was much better than how it had been at home, at least for me.

The first year was good, actually. People spent the least time with their mobile phones, no time with their laptops because they never owned one, less time online, and lesser “commitments”, and finally there was enough socializing.

A lot of lessons came my way; I knew the real people, I realized how mean people could get, I also realized how nice people could be. And yeah, your room mates need not always love you, they need not talk to you, they have their priorities, they might group up together ignoring you, and they will use you as much as they can, its up to you to make sure you are not used much, and you will always be a matter of sarcasm to them- in short, you will be their object of making fun at. But, you must never change. This must never let you down. It’s just that they are unsocial. It’s not your fault.

Staying with people who hate you- can strengthen you for life, you know.

Second year, Entry into the department, not knowing any one much, accidental room mates again (Not again!), adjustments, again, adjustments. Enduring the same first year room experience. And all the show off around you. (Gosh when did she change so much! Does she even remember how she was in the first year? Huh!) New faces. New people.

Now it was lesser revelations about people. Because laptops, mobile phones and the like occupied centre stage.

Finally third year. Time to rejoice. My close friends were with me in the same section
(Must forget all the glitches, hiccups and problems that I encounter with the online room registration and online section registration each semester. And a big thanks to those who helped me then. Sigh!) A new room with four other juniors. Bliss. Realization- Room mates can love you. Room mates can socialize and share with you. Room mates can regard you. Rom mates will accept you for what you are. There was enough fun- experimenting with cooking. Food. Movies Music. And there was the space we never wished to enter in each others lives.
Finally final year. Responsibilities. Questions and question marks about the future. (They still remain unanswered). Feeling of leaving. Separation and its pangs. And what’s more, new friends, newer experiences. Placements. Project. And the pain of not getting the hostel block I wanted. That very block where 3 years went by- the busiest of all blocks. Where all my memories lay within those bricks. Rather all our memories. Where people kept moving by, making noise all the time, and it gave you a feeling of standing in the middle of Chennai’s busy Bazaars. Sigh

And the last semester. Sending off your friends. Bidding good bye. Controlling emotions. Crying back in the room. That jittery feeling that rekindled your memories when ever you went past their empty rooms. Slam books. It was never customary to write one. But still.

Sitting at home, although there is utterly delicious food, and uninterrupted Internet, I still miss the eating sessions, be it at the mess or the canteen or Canopy; the roll call hustle bustle, trips to home, studying, movies, music, the lawn, the chit chat sessions, times with day scholars during weekdays, gossip updates, the wi fi, cooking, weekends, late nights, later mornings, and above all, the random smiles and hi-byes across the corridors. And of course, all the lessons learnt. The list is always endless.


And finally vacating. With the hypothetical feeling that I am on a long holiday and will get back to that place to stay among 3000 others; and my mind not coming to the point that I am not getting back there. Never again. Sigh

A saga, a legend

Pitch fever soaring. Palpitation rules every Indian heart for obvious reasons. I am not all that a sport analyst; but I bleed blue though. Light blue, with the shades intact. Beyond all the sensation and pressure on Dhoni's boys, there stands one enormous soul- do I need to tell the name? I will, cos I love doing that- Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. One reason why I need to accept the fact that cricket is a gentleman's game. Indeed Sachin it is! Quantifying his sporting career is a mammoth task for a statistician. Assessing and analyzing it- no words. I do not want to argue over hypotheses like 'Sachin- God of cricket' and so on. It’s a personal opinion. I do not patronize the game unlike many of my fellows here. I am not against patronizing it either. Yet, to someone like me, Sachin is one living legend. He is a phenomenon. He has lived a saga between the stumps. This is not just for the numbers that his career equates to, but for the morality that he has always stood by, despite glory masking him all through. His polite refusal to endorse a liquor brand- how principled is he! My words are nothing new. There is more to him than to awe in inspiration at his numbers; or to wonder over the fact if anyone can ever beat his numbers. The dignity that he brought to the team. The spirit with which he puts every run into the score. The way he handles such an enormity of fame, success and glory. The way he untiringly bats for the tricolor. Test. ODI. T20. Still the common man's delight. From the streets to the gallery.
As a tendency, in my opinion, we as a nation love to crib. For a change, he never let us do that in his case. And let’s stop fussing when he takes a break in a match or two. Don’t the rest of his feats over shadow this? For someone who has been through 6 World Cups-- win or lose-- the mental grit to face balls of all kinds-- man it definitely takes a bloody hell lot to be Sachin!!! Let your glory shine through, let the pitches that saw you at your best continue to lie wide in your fame, let those bowlers behind your runs cherish their share of moments, let those butter fingers that missed your wicket grin sheepishly, and let the generation that grew up watching the very you, always continue to look up to you as ever, and finally let the tricolor glow with pride at the very mention of you!! As Wankhede waits with fingers crossed, as the nation breathes heavily, man, only 2 words for you-- Jai Ho!!

Am I seeing the end?

And finally, the end is "coming soon". Like an Indian movie trailer. Leap years make it once in four years. And the end here too. Day 1 seems just like yesterday; it feels like I started talking and moving around like just now; and the end seems just like tomorrow. These four happy years, I learnt a lot; taught a bit; smiled a zillion times; waved hi-s and bye-s incessantly; moved on, dried my tears up; laughed my lungs out; chattered non stop; hugged as tight as tight can be; observed around,and finally realised how much mental maturity this place around has given me; how much I have got moulded in the process. I have never felt ungrateful for this part of my life; and will never be. The n number of people and the happenings with them- could have never happened other wise. All good things get over like that- as is always with life. Normally every thing seems nice at the end- but mine seemed naaiiicee since the beginning and nicer as time went by. For those who have bothered to stay back since scene 1- Louwe ya. For those who walked out- Good riddance;) and thanks, you made me strong; thanks for the space; in case you wanna get back, sorry I cant be the same. For the ones who popped in midway- Yay! Fun! :) And there is sure more to come.
P.S. : Sequels to this dumb post are intended. Your patience is requested and appreciated:)

Try try never say die

I have heard enough of this. And you definitely must have, too. And I experienced a bit of this, very recently; that’s what is making me write this, and making you read this, too. Oh! Enough of this and that!

Life is full of chances. That one chance you take can become your opportunity. Each one of us has a destined place; not any one can really take it away from any of us. I would not call it fate; to call it fate would mean to bow down to some thing too trivial in the face of a human ability. Destiny is what decides when chance turns into opportunity; and it demands patience, patience and plain patience from one’s side. To wait patiently simply means to look further into one self; to concentrate on one’s own inner strength and most importantly, not to think of the others around who made it (which is very tough). Each one of us is definitely no way less than the rest; or no way more either. It is just that time is on some body’s side as of now, and will soon be on ours too. No one’s life can be a total failure either; success and failure are matters of moments alone. Hope, as I repeat as said in one of my earlier posts, is the driving force of all our lives, and this hope should intensify with each set back in life. Each step back is an indication that some thing better and bigger is in store; some thing nicer will turn up; or probably destiny has other plans. Each bad experience should strengthen one up mentally, and the ultimate result then attained would be sweeter than the one got as expected. Each day is a new learning experience; and if not for the rejection and dejection my past has given me, I would not have learnt so much- not even so much as to write this. Would you?

Most importantly, a set back actually shows you your real friends; and nothing more than unmasking a faking friend, isn’t it? When life hits out, do not swoon down; instead get up fast and start fighting. A battle well fought is relief in itself. Believe in yourself; stop looking around (consequences might be bad; I forewarn) and start fighting! Success is not the mere absence of failure; it means winning the war; not every battle.

P.S. Long boring sermon; I know. :P

Food :(

I miss my gestation. Sigh. Food is scheduled here.
Monday morning = Idly (Stones I can pelt at some one I detest) or Bread toast. (Surface area of a slice = that of a standard Milk Bikis biscuit). Bread is actually delightful.
The morning coffee:
Procedure: Milk (99% water + 1% milk) is taken in a large vessel; a small drop of decoction is added. The instant the color of the milk changes to coffee brown, upon the addition of a few micro liters of decoction, stop adding the decoction; add lump some sugar to cover up.
A similar story follows up for tea. And the schedule goes on with a time table for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And yeah, the evening snack, that could at times throw up surprises in the form of cakes and buns: P and not to forget the monthly price tag 
And the result, strong adaptation of the stomach to digest any thing; acceptance of the mind to remember that not all food is good; and adjusting of the biological clock to eat when ever the source of food stimulates the olfactory senses. Most importantly, mastering the skill to cook any thing and every thing with just an electric kettle (Thanks to Philips Electronics) and to experiment with all plant parts to cook. Sigh! 

Change?

Change is the only thing that is permanent in life. I am probably the nth person saying this. I keep telling this to my old plain self when ever I make umpteen plans, and things seem bright and sunny, and then what was not expected to happen, goes on. Sigh! This is just change, on a daily basis; but there are people who change like ‘that’, for life. Being in a hostel, I am blessed (I forget Amma’s food when I say this) to be around n number of people, and it’s for this experience of being with people of all kinds from all the possible corners of the nation, that I say I am blessed. From a very personal opinion, I have been observing people, their life style, thoughts and opinions. Friendly, ignorant, dominating, submissive, the adjective list is endless to describe them. Some have been around since day 1, till today, and that’s when I get ending up certain small jerks. Friends who were gone ‘missing’ one whole year, are suddenly on Face book with you, then the smiles resume, and I don’t want to ‘take revenge’ by ‘not bothering’. You smile, I smile back. You talk, I talk back. You don’t talk or smile or wave a Hi, huh? Duh. It’s not my fault. And people at the end of this ‘resuming’ friendship give me little jerks, or rather big ones.
Not only with respect to community living like a hostel, I end up getting jerks because of people I meet after a certain period of time. They are like this and that now, like “My father blah blah blah... Always says this... And I do so... Blah Blah Blah... I am principled, disciplined... “And all these words are hidden beneath their words. I meet them later, and My God! Life style changes, attitude or rather ego, over the head thoughts, just formal exchange of words with me, because, now, they presume they are going ahead, while I am still right down there. Because they do certain things and I don’t. I feel like I should have caught the past on a camera, and must show them now and ask, “And what does your father say, and what do you do”? Why even talk as if one is a person of principles and qualities, and then take a total turn “influenced” by surroundings? What purpose does the up bringing by parents hold, and what principles do they even stand for? Only time can teach them a lesson. I still wish a lot of people can go back and be the same old self they were when I met them first; I share a lot of memories with that “self” they were; and I am missing them now. All I want to do is to probe into their minds and find out the how, why, when, what and which of their “change”, and to just tap them one on their heads with a magic wand and bring them back to their old selves. When I realize I can’t, I just wait with hope, and end up writing here.
Yawn! I slept through the writing myself; and I pity you reading this: P Thanks anyways!