I have never justified my
title, Untitled, but today i will. The name came organically to me, maybe
because I feel that till a story is finished and done, it can be bent anywhere
you wish to. I can be titled and confined to something when i am gone maybe, but
till then i am still been written.
So the story embarks on the
seventh month of 1992, what time I cannot say, not relevant either, but place I
can say is Kolkata. Neither big, nor small but is a congested city. The city does
still looks like a fallen British empire. British because of the architecture
and fallen because for obvious historical reasons. There are no childhood
memories of the city because me and my parents left very soon after I was born.
But I have heard their stories, adolescence revolving around the very famous
coffee house and Nandan ,a government
sponsored film and cultural centre. Anyway, I am obviously not attached to it. I
am told I was three when we all came to New Delhi, frankly I am glad that we
did. Not sure if I would have hated there if I grew up there, but the very
thought of it reminds me the immense change my life would have had if there was
no Delhi in the picture. The connection is always strong to a city one grows up
in, the place of birth hardly matters then. Though my facebook profile will
always hold Kolkata my home town, but Delhi will always remain my home.
What is it about Delhi that
attracts me you ask? It’s speed I would say. The pace can be exhausting or
adrenaline pumping, but it can never be boring. The city can frustrate me, hurt
me, excite me or love me, but it can never not be my home. I am not fond of the
ever mushrooming cars though, but cannot complaint if I own one.
As bongs, we are desperate
for Durga Puja, no matter where we are, Delhi or London. There has to be four
festive days, rather tiring I would say. Each day beginning to the loud dhaak beats and the ceremonies performed
in front of the gorgeous idol. The idea is to welcome the goddess on her four
day visit to her home, away from her husband. And therefore the glamour and the
merry making. This all is when it is the navratri
for every other north Indian non Bengali. Huge lavish tents would be set up,
lights shimmering, everyone on their best dress would be greeting one another
are the main attractions. My childhood pretty much revolved around it, the
fragrance of sandal incense sticks still takes me back to that time and puts me
right in front of Her. She stands there owning the place and all I am left with
is a sense of awe. The celebrations include stage performances, that I was a
part of. I loved it, I was good at it, and hence enjoyed the attention. It was
a beautiful childhood, the makeup, the costume, the rehearsals, the scolding
when I would miss a step, I couldn't ask for more. The long nights after that,
sitting around with all the participants is what I would define as after party,
not a perfect term but this is what I can come up with. The parents would be at
one corner probably criticizing the people they didn't like and us kids would
be playing charades in the other. Good times! I hurried for nothing that time,
except for growing up perhaps. Children are always in a hurry to grow, foolish
they are, and so was I. All of us grew up, school became painful, and hence
life changed. It’s funny that how the process of changing, the cross roads of
phases do not appear drastic but when I reminisce it seems like too much of
events have passed in a very little time.
The board exams are a big
deal for some reason, it was for me too but only because the environment was
such. It is sort of the first step academically, so hence the hype. I hated Sanskrit, and would never forget the
terror it caused me. Not that I was brilliant in every other subject I had, but
I knew I will manage. The dreadful month of March, every student can relate to
this, approached like an alligator approaching for its prey. But it went by too,
it is not until the end when one realizes that the panic was just a hoax.
The next two years were the
most important ones; it is the time when every child begins to really grow up. At
least for me, it was something like that. The very characters like being the
coolest kid (or at least trying to be one), having huge number of friends (better
defined as followers), being a prefect, breaking rules even more since nobody
really questions a prefect, fighting and over sensitivity defines these two
very last years. All of us just wanted to gather memories, because it suddenly
hits you that this is it! Thirteen years of school is ending. So as time flies
the trauma of leaving school changes into the desperation of having it all done
before life even actually begins. That’s the irony I adore about being a
teenager.
The final year ends with a
series of pre board examinations, laboratory work (there is no way I will ever
forget the chemistry lab smell), project submissions and finally the long
preparation holidays.
I enjoyed those holidays, I
believe exams bring people closer. The long hour discussions about the syllabus
each one of us had completed and the panic attack following the post
discussions were very exciting. The one particular book that the entire batch
was following was the set of pradeep’s books.
Anyone who is a science student would totally understand what I mean.
Texts were exchanged like
forest fire, yes texts, no whatsapps that time. Its hard to imagine that I don’t
text anymore or get the recharges on my phone done for the same. School was
definitely different then from now, it was yahoo messenger and later orkut
which were popular. Remember the testimonials we all forced our friends to
write? It is nothing like that now,
scraps have become posts and likes.
Anyway, internet, phone and
late night study hours all finally lead to our final board exams. Results were
then out and just like that the whole world around us changed for the very
first time.
TO BE CONTINUED…….
