The generations

I entered middle school listening to Backstreet Boys and Boyzone. I still remember sneaking to the hall and watching Nick Carter in the video of Quit playing games with my heart over my Aunt’s shoulder. My kid sister, now, starts jumping about to Coldplay’s Lost and Alanis Morissette’s Ironic.

What can you say? The changing generations. Also, the BSB were way cooler and a hell lot better than the Bieber kid.

College

My sister’s school exhibition was held today. Just a little after noon, I took her to the school. It had rained in the late morning, so we couldn’t leave earlier. Unfortunately for us, the exhibits were dismantled and the classrooms closed by the time we arrived there. My sister didn’t mind it. Now, my pre-university college is in the same campus as her school. Same building if you want me to be more specific.

Sis : Lets go upstairs. I’ll show you my computer classroom!

Me : I know where it is.

‘Course I knew. It’s on the same floor as my classroom in 2^nd PU. As I climbed the stairs behind the stage, I had a rush of mixed emotions. I expected them. But I still didn’t know how to deal with them.

At the landing of the third floor, straight ahead of me was, well, the loo. But just before that is the staff room. (It’s not as bad as you think.) To my immediate left is my classroom for the 2^nd year. One of the non-teaching staff was cleaning out the staff room. She comes out.

Me : Isn’t anyone here?

The cleaner : None right now. They just left.

Me : Oh. Ok. Anyone in the labs? Sumana Mam?

The cleaner : Ah.. She must be there. Not sure.

I look at the newly fitted notice board on the wall. It’s filled with notices on the cricket team. Mostly. I smile.

I enter my classroom. The computer lab attendant is writing down the register numbers on the desks. I look around at the empty room. To me, it seems as if I’m actually IN it. At the moment, I’m in THAT moment. I smile again. I withdraw myself from the room.

Me : Come on. Lets go to the 4^th floor.

Sis : I’ll show you my yoga class.

She runs up the stairs. I take my own time. I take the immediate right at the 4^th floor landing.

Sis : Here. Come on.

She opens the second door on the right cautiously.

Sis : This is my yoga classroom!

Me : Hmmm.

I walk a few steps ahead. The most secluded spot in the college, just near my 1^st year classroom. It was huge.That brought back many memories. We’d put up a bench-desk there outside. Or maybe it was already there. Saturday mornings were the best. We had classes from 12 then. Physics class. We used to arrive leisurely... sit there on that bench. Gossip. Talk. That corner was the best.

I stand there and text everyone telling them about my location. Mixed types of replies I got.

One even asked if I was pms-ing when I said I got nostalgic. :D

I walk towards the physics and chemistry lab. I stand at the center of the corridor and look ahead. Below me I can see the ground. In front of me on the third floor I can see the classrooms. Directly in my line of sight, on the other side, I can see indoor games room. I slightly look up.

The grey clouds. The wind. The light rain. JUST like how it was in those days, standing there outside our classroom.

The physics lab had a few students inside. I walk past it without looking in. My sister peeps.

Me : Don’t look inside like that!

Sis : You were asking about some teacher!

Me : Not HER!

The chemistry lab. Meera Mam is inside. So are a few students. I see that there’s no other lecturer. I walk a little ahead and stop. I can see inside of the lab. Students are working. I tuck my hands inside my jackets’ pockets and stand. The chem lab attendant comes from behind me. He recognizes me.

Him : How are you?

Me : Namskara Sir. Fine. Yourself?

*Tilts his head to his left and slightly closes his eyes. A gesture to be taken as “Everything fine here too”.

Him : How are things going for you?

Me : Great.

Him : You had come to the exhibition?

Me : Yes.

Him : Do have relatives studying here?

*I put my hand over my sisters’ shoulder and say,*

Me : Yes. My sister.

Him : Your sister? Own?

*I nod my head*

Him : Which standard?

Sis : I’m in third.

Him : Ok.

Me : Ok bye Sir.

I turn around.

*My sis spots an open door.*

Sis : That’s the terrace!

Me : Hmmm.

We climb down the stairs and reach the ground floor. I look around. I miss the place. It wasn’t much. But then again, maybe it was.

Memories. Lots of them.

The girls, the guys, the crushes, the tears, the bunking, the classes, the lecturers, the crushes again, all that. I miss it. A lot.

:)

One of my friends said, “I swear that place still haunts me in my dreams”. I second his statement.

Cartoons

Cartoons have always captured the interest of the young, and the not-so young, courtesy my Grand Pa. My little sister sits in front of the telly right after she comes home from school and watches Chotta Bheem on CN. And later at around 5 Ben10 or something else. She reminds me of MY days as a primary school-goer. I used to come home myself at around 3:30 PM. I used to fling my bag on the chair, remove my shoes, without unbuckling them, mind, and sit down to watch Ninja Robots and Captain Planet. Power Zone, I think the time period was named.

:D

I used to love those shows. Ninja Robots, especially. I had a huge crush on Joe. I thought the names “Mantis”, “Icelander”, “Cybertron” were cool. I used to watch them with my eyes popped out.

I still remember those days. When I see my kid sister, I sometimes see myself in her. Or rather, what I’d been doing in her age. There are, undoubtedly, huge differences. But still.

I found this on YouTube. I was nearly in tears watching it again after all these years. It made me feel real good, though.

:)

One life to live

My dear mother apparently thought I was on the phone in the wee hours of the morning. She kinda freaked out. I told her that I understood how she felt.

I put myself in her place and my 7 year old sis in mine.

I’d react the same way too, I guess. Or maybe not. Seeing that I am me, and not my mother.

Anyway, lets assume that I thought right.(Assuming that I DO react like my mother)

I’d ask her,

- Why was she on a convo at that time. Shouldn’t she be sleeping? Huh?

- Who was she talking to? Her friend? A stranger?(Very unlikely) Or someone else?

- What was the need to talk right then?

- DOES she know the consequences of it?

Now, knowing my shrewd sis, she’d have all the answers to it.
(Unlike me, I stumble at words in real life, most of the time.)

Now lets assume that I thought wrong.

I’d ask her the same questions.
But the results would be quite adverse...

I told my mother about this. I also told her that it would be one life that my sis would live to enjoy. So, I’d let it be.

Anyway, that’s what I felt, speaking like a late teen, almost in her twenties.

:)

The little boy...

I take my kid sister to the local park occasionally. The park is situated quite close to my house. It’s the one next to the over bridge. The kids flock there everyday, though you might probably see more of them in the evenings. The elders do the usual “walk-in-the-park”. The park is half done actually. There is an open field in the center. The walking track runs along its perimeter. The swings, see-saws and the others are at one end. Lots of benches around.

On one such evening, I sat on the favorite bench of mine, located within the playing area. My sis went on to slide down the slide. I watched the other kids quarrelling over the swing. Time went by.
A smartly dressed little boy came and asked if the skipping rope on the bench was mine. I looked at it and said, “No. Not mine.” He said, “I’ll take it then”.

I replied, “You cant do that! It might be someone else’s. They might come for it later”.

A young girl came by and said that it was hers and took it away.

The little boy sat next to me.

“I have a comb”, he said. Taking it out, he brushed his wavy hair like he’d never done it before.

Now, this little guy spoke in half English and half Kannada.

“What you are doing?”, he asks. “Sending mail?”

Yours truly was messaging. I looked at him and said, “Yes”.

“To whom ya?”

“My friend”.

He puts his little hand over my shoulder. Me, being me, gives a start. I say to myself- God, Thej, he’s just a little boy.
I relax.

“I’ll also mail to my friend! You do ya, I’ll tell”.

“Er... ok”.

He dictates something childish and I pretend to “mail” it. He laughs in an animated way. I smile at him. He sits closer to me.
“Will you be my friend? I like making friends.”

“Hmmm .. ok”.
“Which standard are you in?”, I ask.

“UKG”.

“Hmmm? Which school?”

“Vani”.

“Oh.. ok.. Which subject do like?”

“Drawing! I draw nice.”

“Really? What do you like to draw?”

“I draw houses... nice houses!”
“I climb that and show you wait... “, so saying, he gets up and tries his hand at the alphabets or something.

I smile at him.

He comes back and sits on my other side. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“With whom have you come here?”, I ask him.

“My Grandma. My Mom is not free. She does cleaning work at houses. Cleaning! Ha ha ha!”.

I just smile again.

His Granny comes by and asks him if he’ll come along. He replies that he’s with a friend and that he’ll come later.

“ He likes talking to elders. Don’t mind. He doesn’t like playing with the other kids much”, she says.

“Its ok... No problem!”, I assure her. “I’ll be on the corner bench, ok son?”, so saying, she leaves.

Patting my knee, he says enthusiastically, “You come to my home. I will show you my drawings. I got prize also!”

“Ha? Ok..”

“That road, go straight, take right, left there is my home. When will you come? Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.. I’ll see.”

By this time, I message a few of my friends saying, “I am in a park and a little boy comes and puts his hand over my shoulder.”
One of them suggested that I punch him in the nose, to which I had to reply that the boy was in kindergarten. The other, who was not in station, called me pronto. I explained to him that the little boy was, well, little. I even made him talk to the boy. The few words the little guy spoke was “Ok... ok...”. My dear friend, content that it WAS indeed just a little boy, bade good bye to me.

His hand back on my shoulder, he asks, “Will you come to the park everyday? What time?”

“Around 5:30... around this time in the evening”.

“Come early ya... ok? I will also come.. we’ll sit and talk. Ok ya?”.

“I’ll try.. “

“You come to my home ya..”

The sky gets darker. Getting up, I take his hand and say, “Come, we’ll search for my sister.”

I find her with a group of kids, more or less of her own age, playing in the middle of the field. I tell her, “Stay here. I’ll leave him with his Granny and be back. Don’t go anywhere, alright?”.

My astute sis, “Who is he?”

“My friend”.

“Tch! Tell me .. who is he?!”

One of her friends exclaims, “Oh this boy!? He is my father’s friend too!”.

I say, “There! See, I told you he’s my friend.”.

“Come on.. “ , I tell him.

My sis and her friends tag along.

We walk around the park... He spots his Granny.

“Hope he dint give you trouble.”, she says.

“None at all... He talks a lot though!”.

I turn to him and say, “Bye bye!”.

I call out to my sis who lingers near the unknown boy. She asks yet again, “Who is he?”.

“I told you, he is a friend of mine.”.

“Tch!”, comes her reply.


The following two days, even though I went to the park and sat on the same bench for hours, the little boy dint turn up. I sat there, thinking about him. I thought of how free and out spoken he was... how easily he made me feel comfortable.
If you know me in real life, you might understand what I mean.


While typing out this blog entry, I texted my friend requesting him to search for the message I’d sent him nearly a month ago and to give me the exact date. He digs through the archives of my thousand odd messages to him and replies, “27th”.

So, it was on 27th of March.

I’ve been thinking of, for loss of a better word, penning this down for days. I finally did it.

Ironically, I dont remember his name.

Looking glass

My sister finally made it into the dance group for her school annual day. She now comes home really tired. On one such particular evening...


Sis : My leg’s hurting! (Tries her hand at wailing).
Mamma : Come here, I’ll make it go.
Sis : Is there moov? (She meant the balm)
Mamma : Yes, Papa has got a new tube.

*Mamma gets a phone call... *

Mamma : I’ll ask Papa to massage... I’ll be back.
Sis : No! you do it! (Puts on her long face)
Papa : Come here...

*Sis continues to wail*

*I take my gaze off the glass*

Me : Abhi, lets name them.
Sis : Tch! (Puts on a “My leg is paining... don’t talk silly” look)
Me : Come on... look, we’ll start with these two.

*Papa escapes*

Sis : Ok.. we’ll name them “Angel”
Me : But there are two of them...
Sis : They are alike!
Me : No.. see this one? It’s got a few streaks of white on it.

*Sis takes a closer look*

Sis : Right akka!
Me : I told you...
Sis : ok.. one is Angel.
Me : Other? Fairy?
Sis : No... “Angie”
Me : Angie sounds silly... Fairy

*Sis ponders for a few moments..*

Sis : Ok.. Fairy and Angel... the full black one is Angel.. the one with the white streaks is Fairy.
Me : Ok!

*Sis smiles... the aching of the leg long forgotten...*

Sis : See... Angel and Fairy are always together...! They don’t move... lazy they are!
Me : I know! (Grins)
Sis : What shall we name the others? The orange one? Lets call it “ Pony”!

*I don’t voice out my thought that a “Pony” suits a horse better*

Me : Ok.. whatever.

*Sis smiles... I smile back...*
*Mamma comes back and sits next to her... I tell her in sign language about the forgotten leg pain... Mamma smiles*



*I continue gazing through the glass whilst my Sis tries her best at naming the rest of them*