Happily Ever After...

I love Bollywood movies; well, I love most of them! I cannot claim to be one of those movie fanatics who watch every movie 10 times and have all dialogues memorized; but I do genuinely like them.

I like the music, the rhythm and a joyful crowd dancing to its beats. I enjoy the colorful portrayal of life. I find the love of people most satisfying; be it for girlfriends, spouses, kids, parents or for the nation. And I cry at even the slightest hint of broken dreams. It does not take great actors to move me to tears; just a slight twist in the story is enough.

But even while I’m shedding a hundred real tears for every fake tear on the screen (and miserably trying to hide them from my movie-buddies), I’m continuously reminding myself that the end will inevitably be good. Things will suddenly, magically fall into place and there will be a guaranteed ‘happily ever after’. That’s probably the more criticized part of Indian cinema. That’s absolutely the part I find the most worthy of praise.

Because in the end, aren’t we all trying to find our own ‘happily ever after’? And even if we spend all our lives trying to find it without ever succeeding; do we want to be told upfront that it does not exist?

Well, I don’t!

I want to keep believing in the inevitable happy end. When the world around me goes upside down, I still want to be hopeful about future. Even if I make a hundred wrong decisions and a thousand mistakes (Dude, I’m just a kid. I’m allowed to!), I want to have faith that things will fall into place with just one swift, magical movement of the wand of fate. I want to keep believing in an inevitable ‘happily ever after’…

Because I need to. And also because everyone deserves a happy end. 

Living in the moment!

I was just up; stretching lazily after a peaceful, long night’s sleep. Father was attending his breakfast after his morning shift of work. I was enthusiastically blabbering about my day’s plan and asked if he would accompany me for an evening stroll. He never replied. He seemed grim, shaken even. I imagined his spirits were weighed down by his burdensome work. Hoping to lift his mood and divert his mind from the mundane, I launched into the details of the most appealing aspects of my forthcoming training in Chicago. A conversation about his children’s achievements, on a normal day, makes him swell with pride and a smile lights his face despite himself. Yet, he replied with the filmy dialogue, “kal ke baare mein mat socho; kya pata beta, kal ho naa ho (don’t think too much about tomorrow; there may be no tomorrow),” except that there wasn’t anything filmy about the way he said it.

And so he enumerated the encounter of an 11-year-old with the cruelty of his fate. The kid who’d only just gotten into high-school full of excitement to explore and exploit his newly found freedom was headed to school in an exceedingly-stuffed auto-rickshaw. He fell prey to a grisly accident as the auto was hit by a fully-loaded Heavy Goods Vehicle; the boy hit the road and was run over by tyres double his size. All was chaos outside; for the boy, the world had grown silent.

The news hit me hard. The boy had only left his home moments ago, was still well in sight of his mother who’d come to see him off; little did she know that it would be the last time they bade adieu. He might have harboured dreams of being appreciated for an essay he’d written, feared chidings for unfinished homework, planned a nice tiffin-time with his friends, and schemed an eventful cricket game for the evening. Yet, all of his plans for the day, for tomorrow or for the next year; all his dreams about a career, an Audi or a girlfriend, now lay silent with him.

All men are aware of the fragile nature of life, of the impending doom; yet, somehow, we manage to ignore the harsh reality. Forgetting about this one certainty might be a comfortable choice, yet, being aware of it might make us more certain about our actions, plans, and priorities. Thinking of death as our one common end relieves you of all fears, pride, ego, lust and embarrassment. Every tick of the clock becomes a reminder to focus on what is most important to you before your time runs out.

The silver lining of the dark cloud of death that invariably looms above us all is the recurrent reminder to ‘live in the moment’. Beware, that a full-proof plan of working hard in twenties, marrying at thirty, spending time with family in fifties and being a philanthropist in the sixties might just not work out. Every moment, there are innumerable, unthinkable ways in which all your plans might hit a dead end to rest in peace besides you. As Mark Twain so aptly put it, “Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today.”

So, prioritise today! Nurture your hobbies, keep your promises, work hard and play hard, share unforgetful memories with your family, spend money on outings, click pictures, laugh out loud, dance with your sweetheart until your legs fail you, take a moment to express your affection towards friends, say, “I love you,” smile and spread it everywhere you go. Take time to play, to think and read, to laugh and sing, to “dream as if you’ll live forever and to live as if you’ll die today,” take time to love and be loved.

I conclude with Steve Jobs’ words that seem fitting here, “When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: 'If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right.' It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”

So once again, live in the moment; because this moment might be all you have!

Brick Walls: They’re there for a reason!

“The brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. The brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough.” – Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture.

The mid-90’s contemporary society in Brooklyn had a remarkable way of selling off left-over Christmas trees. On the eve of Christmas, the store-owner would exhibit his unsold lot for a day or so, while the not-so-wealthy relied  on their imagination to satisfy their fancies of homes adorned with the trees they liked the best. Francie, an 11-year old ran home and brought her father to the exhibition. She pointed to the largest tree, begged him to buy it, crying her heart out. Unfortunately, her father did not have the luxury to relent. So she set herself a new goal in life. With an air of ambition she said, “I’m going to work hard, grow rich and have a house with that tree in the hall.” All day, she sat on a desk by the side of the exhibition puzzling the quirky shades of green, admiring the colorful reflections the little bulbs played over the snowballs, drawing the energy and inspiration to sail through life’s hardships.  

After this day of admiration, came the night of revelation, when the owner declared that they would sell the trees for a few cents each, to whosoever competed and won a tournament-of-sorts. The final task for the largest tree would be a show of physical strength so that everyone could enjoy the sport. The atmosphere charged up with excitement as everyone contemplated who would bag the best or the largest ones. Francie’s father encouraged her to compete for the largest tree despite knowing she was the frailest in the crowd. She complied since she did not want to give in without a fight.

The set tasks were long, tedious and pointless to the extent of building frustration amongst the participants. One by one, people retired with whatever little their tasks earned them; not Francie. She stuck to her goal until the final task, when it so happened that she was the only one left competing for the largest tree and it naturally came to her. All happy and content she carried it home with her father.

A distant observer expressed his curiosity over the entire ordeal to the shop-owner. The owner wisely answered, “The process is a filter, so designed to ensure that the one who wants something most badly is the one who gets it. None of them could’ve afforded to pay for any of the trees. The ordeal was a chance for them to prove how desperately they wanted it!”

All of us hate to think of the hard work that goes behind our most treasured successes, the trying period preceding fulfillment of our dreams and passions. Oft times we give up for fear of failure. It is worthwhile to remember that the tough phases are not to keep you from success; they are a filter, they are there to keep the others away!
So the next time you’re cribbing about the trials a girl would put you through before saying that ‘yes’, know that she’s probably not trying to keep you away, she’s evaluating how badly you want her. She’s only trying to keep the others away! ;-) 

Jaddoo ki Jhappi

All was dark. Christine lay prostrate on the bed, trying to put things into perspective. Minutes turned into hours, and the night flew by. Soft, soothing light fell on her face and she looked up. Golden rays stole their way through the blinds, trespassing the ruling, dominant darkness. They lit up the room, making visible, the tiniest details of the path traversed. And in a moment of clarity, the truth hit her. The meaninglessness of her pathetic life; it hurt!

She remembered the sweet, sweet memories that she begged to keep. That day when she led her team to a grand victory in the inter-school Basketball tournament, she became a star in her own little world. She was a favorite everywhere; sought out by teachers at school, girls who would die to be a part of her college gang, guys who would give away everything for a date with her. She enjoyed all the attention, yet she never indulged in anything except hanging out with her gang and her handsome, hot, oh-so-perfect boyfriend. She was content with all she had. Until now, when there was light… 

Gravely, Dr. Trevelyan said, “As pathetic as it is, the truth is that it is the one thing that has kept her alive for so long. Landing here with a possibility of cure is better than ending with a brief, sad suicide story covered in petty Mumbai dailies.” Mrs. Alfonso shivered at the thought. Her despair knew no bounds. She knew she was to blame. She and her oh-so-fucking-rich-yet-a-workaholic husband who could afford to pay for the best doctor in the country and yet, did not have the time to visit his loved ones. ‘Oh he loves nothing except his work and his stinking richness,’ Mrs. Alfonso silently mused. But how could she have been so blind, so ignorant? Her daughter had lingered in the dark for too long, lost in her imaginary world. Dr. Trevelyan said it began while she was still at school; when she did not make it to the Basketball team, it seems. Mrs. Alfonso instantly regretted every single Parent-Teacher-Association meeting, Annual day function, Year-end evaluation sessions she’d missed! Now that she made inquiries, it became established that none of Christine’s best friends ever existed, teachers hardly remembered her, and she maintained a very low profile at school.

Things seem to have taken a turn for the worse when Christine left home for college. Her ever-so-friendly gang that she worshipped was only a figment of her wild imagination. At once, Mrs. Alfonso knew that she should’ve visited Christine, at least once, made sure that she lived with real people and not a group of spoiled brats that never existed. Oh, she was so pissed at her little gang right now! They are fortunate to be non-existent to bear the brunt of her anger and grief. Mrs. Alfonso did not have any idea about Christine’s ‘love affair’ and while she was glad that it wasn’t real, she would have given anything at the moment, for it not to be imaginary. 

“Admiration, friendship and love are all she has ever cared about; things everyone, except her imagination, failed to provide her with. She needs intimacy, Mrs. Alfonso. That’s what she’s been craving for all her life.” She knew he was right. She couldn’t begin to grasp the extent of loneliness that led Christine into the darkest pits of her imagination.

... “No! This can’t be true!” Christine tried to shield herself from the stinging, hurtful brightness; trying to lose herself back to the abysmal dark. She had lived in the dark for too long, to be able to accept the harsh, blinding light now. Her friends, her love, might be all Dr. Trevelyan has to say about them, but “They’re all I’ve ever had.” “You never had any of it, Christine!” her subconscious scolds, waking from a decade-long dormancy.

When Christine is about to end the pain forever, Mrs. Alfonso enters and hugs her daughter, something she should’ve done more often. For the first time in her life, Christine really had more than her pillow to keep company while she shed her tears. 

Chicken Soup for the Soul

The following is an excerpt from the book “Three Men in a Boat” that I found worth sharing here.

The three men in the book decide to spend sometime in the vicinity of nature and agree upon taking a boat to the sea. They make a list of things they think indispensable. However, the infeasibility of navigating a boat crammed with all these things soon becomes clear. Following this, one of them reflects, “You know we are on a wrong track altogether. We must not think of the things we could do with, but only of the things that we can’t do without.”

Here is the author’s take on this statement, “I call that downright wisdom, not merely as regards the present case, but with reference to our trip up the river of life, generally. How many people, on that voyage, load up the boat till it is ever in danger of swamping with a store of foolish things which they think essential to the pleasure and comfort of the trip, but which are really only useless lumber?

How they pile the poor little craft mast-high with a host of swell friends that do not care twopence for them, and that they do not care three ha’pence for; with formalities and fashions, with pretence and ostentation, and with—oh, heaviest, maddest lumber of all!—the dread of what will my neighbour think!

It is lumber, man—all lumber! Throw it overboard. It makes the boat so heavy to pull, you nearly faint at the oars. It makes it so cumbersome and dangerous to manage, you never know a moment’s freedom from anxiety and care, never gain a moment’s rest for dreamy laziness—no time to watch the windy shadows skimming lightly o’er the shallows, or the glittering sunbeams flitting in and out among the ripples, or the great trees by the margin looking down at their own image, or the woods all green and golden, or the lilies white and yellow, or the sombre-waving rushes, or the orchids.”

While I am no promoter of a rustic lifestyle myself and am as much a slave to every day luxuries as any of you, I did find several points to reflect upon and learn from in this abstract.

Unarguably, a better part of our actions are governed by fear of what our neighbours or the society in general, might think. One may find that while a simplistic phone suits one’s needs perfectly well and that one is completely incapable of handling a phone that is smarter than oneself, he will still not hesitate before purchasing one of those hi-tech smart-phones. Why? Clearly, because the society we live in is judging people on their modernity, on their ability to spend on things they understand little about and have lesser use for; and we are fools enough to be governed by societal expectations. This pretentious nature extends in every aspect of one’s living.

We have indubitably grown too busy to be able to enjoy simple pleasures of life; be it a golden sunset by the riverside, or a quiet, starry night, or the sweet music whispered by wind. It reminds me of a verse from Davies’ famous poem, “What is this life, if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.”

Far be it from me to admonish modern men for whom synthetic artifice holds greater appeal than nature’s beauty. However, a change of perspective from withholding all that one might deem necessary to caressing only what one really does need, values and cares about, might just be the solution to myriad problems facing mankind. While it will surely make the boat easier to pull, and leave time to admire and be awed by the grandiose of nature’s many wonders, it is also the mantra to overcome extravagance that is threatening to ruin our future as a species.

It might be the key to the ideal society where everyone has ample and yet no one is drowned by overflowing abundance. It will allow us to lead the simplistic life that everyone desires and yet have to sacrifice it for the lumber we decide we can’t do without.

As the author himself puts it, “Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need—a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you. You will find the boat easier to pull then. You will have the time to drink life’s sunshine.”

On a Song of Ice and Fire!

The dark brown furnishings and the dim, dull orange lights adorn the popular hangout for jaunty friends, somnolent students, workaholics, literature freaks, lovers or simply coffee-lovers. I happen to be none of these. Yet I ended up at GJC (Gloria Jean’s Cafe) snuggled up on a comfortable sofa with an aromatic fragrance in head and a book in hand: A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE: PART V.

As I flipped through the last few pages, a parallel universe seemed to be coming to an abrupt halt. It had become a part of my living, for the better part of the last one semester. Yes, I have spent countless hours going endlessly through the magnificent series of books by G R R Martin, popularly identified by ‘A GAME OF THRONES’, a TV series based on it. The reading exercise was accompanied by re-living the epic in my head, wowing at the grandiose of the kingdoms and castles, hero-worshipping Tyrion’s witticism, laughing with the Stark victories, brooding over their dead, cursing the dishonest, taking lessons from honourable men, hoping for an end to the Lannisters and praying for triumphs to the Starks. Having spent so much time being a part of this fictional world, I decided to attempt a fair appraisal of the series through a dedicated blog post.

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE may best be described as violent annals of fight for power and kingdoms, closely replicating historical episodes of times when kings and warriors fought for lands, wealth, power and glory. It is an honest narrative of the struggle for survival, a portrayal of the ‘survival of the fittest’ law, a marker of the unending nature of human lust. It is a sorrowful recital of woes engulfing mankind, of the evil and the way most of it is not repaid in kind.

It draws a close similarity to our contemporary society where “common people pray for rain, healthy children, and a summer that never ends. It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace. They never are;” they are blatantly exploited by politicians for their own mean, lustful ends.

Most of all, it is an elegant account of human civilizations and cultures whose imaginative nature does not fail to capture the exquisite character of human relationships. It demonstrates how civilizations flourish, nurture and prosper to bind themselves with common threads of belongingness and patriotism. Every proud patriot can relate to the supporters of ‘King in the North’ and ‘King beyond the Wall’; for it is the common thread of customs and traditions, woes and tragedy, war and blood that binds them together.

The series also has its share of devout sermons, scientifically inexplicable phenomena left to the disposal of one’s beliefs, unbelieving coincidences and unseemly, unacceptable tragedies that leave you feeling lost and helpless.

The most unique feature of the book is the presentation of each chapter from different characters’ perspective, allowing the reader to walk in the shoes of each character for a while. It is little wonder then, that a work so bereft of excessive sentimentalism can make you smile, laugh and weep with its most loveable characters.

The story takes wild turns ever so frequently that the voluminous set of books keep you engaged and enthralled from start till end. While TV fans seem to find these tragic twists most appealing, there seems to be a general dissatisfaction with the level of detailing the episodes are able to accomplish. The books however boast of minutest detail.

The colourful descriptions of glorious houses, their histories and sigils; the due attention paid to formal heraldry, allow the readers to live the grandeur of these times. Detailed accounts of social and religious orders; languages and literature; and the fine detailing of customs and traditions of different cultures chronicling superstitious beliefs and orthodox practices make this parallel universe of men wholesome and realistic. Laws of trade and political systems have been adhered to and exemplified at work. This along with the justice done to every single character be it a non-consequential septon with only his faith for sword and sermons for armour or a warrior introduced just before his doom; clearly attest the tremendous efforts that have gone behind the conceptualization and scripting of the series.

Although the enormity and unrestrictive nature of its scope, its appealing and engaging flow, the perfection with which tragedy, thrill, adventure, philosophy and magic have been combined into one and the magnanimity of diligence suffice to make this heroic series one of best literary works of our times, there is much more in store!

This towering epic is richly ornamented with strength of dialogue manifested by Tyrion’s reply to Jaime’s suggestion that it might be a mercy to kill a cripple, “I beg to differ. Death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities,” or when Bran is answered for, “Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?” with “That is the only time a man can be brave;” and philosophical ramblings such as, “A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.”

The diverse nature of human society sketched by myriad shades of men—kind-hearted and sadists, honourable and cunning, industrious and witty, strong and feeble, pious and ungodly allows everyone to relate to the book, strongly.

Reading between its lines brings home several important lessons of life. While a popular joke is that none of the characters ever die of natural causes in GoT, the series does highlight that one thing that is deadlier than capricious females, is the fickle-mindedness of life! It may stand strong one moment and decide to turn against you the next. It is best not to tend to it tenderly in hopes of holding it safe but to make good use of it before life slips like sand against a tightly clenched fist.

The series preaches courage and bravery through little Arya Stark; honour and duty through the ‘Grandfather’, Ser Barristan Selmy and Brienne; patience and persistence through timeless longing and struggle for attainment of love, dreams and passions, for success of plots, for vengeance! And it will hopefully end with a strong case for benevolence when Daenerys is paid in kind for her righteousness.

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE is by far the most beautifully painted web of mankind, its threads running across time and distance to connect the seemingly unconnected dots on the global canvas of space and time. So add this colourful sketch of humanity to your wish-lists and carts at your earliest convenience, because it deserves much more than being stuck with a 9.4 rating on IMDB. It deserves every reader that can reach it! For works like it come along but once in a thousand years!

Into the Twilight Hours of IIT Life!

As I sit here, downloading as much of DC as I can carry in my HD, packing out of IIT-B for the last time, saying my final farewells to everyone who has been a part of my life; I look back and the cached memories come rushing back to me.

I still remember the day I first set foot in this place; the experience was ruinous to all my dreams and expectations about IIT with a dull welcome at the un-boastful entrance and unassuming Convocation Hall, and the modest habitat that were our hostel rooms. I was devastated to be leaving home, family and my dreams of a career in CS (I had gotten into M.Sc. Chem.), for a few acres of glorified land that had established itself as a brand. Yet, the prospect of being a part of this famed institute was so attractive; I was ready to risk anything to realise it.

I believe there are no right or wrong choices. There are only choices, and you live with the ones you make! So have I... And I am glad, almost proud, that I chose to be nourished here, amidst the great and diverse pool of talent; chiselled at the sharp edge of competition; humbled at the hands of hundreds who were better than me at everything I considered my best; befriended by future Einstein’s and Zuckerberg’s, sure to bring glory to our country and Alma Mater!

I came here a scared little girl, untrained in the ways of the world; a frog who had never known an ocean deeper or larger than its own little well. The vast pool of talent to learn from and grow with, myriad genres to satisfy anyone’s passions and opportunities to excel in them, ample number of over-achievers to idealise and be humbled by, company of learned men to gain wisdom from, and the wide, intricate social web to laugh, love and live with; left me awed! This same state of affairs has been my reality for the past four years now, and will be sorely missed hereafter.

The one thing that IITians can boast of is freedom of choice. Be it, freedom to choose one’s career path, one’s attire or the time of the day to wake, eat, get out of rooms for fresh air or shit! Probably, this institute is the sole holy temple of democracy where individual freedom is deified and fundamental rights are absolutely worshipped.

However unconventional your passions may be, IIT has never shied away from supporting excellence in incredibly diverse fields. If you realised that you weren’t meant for the Department you chose, or that you did not belong with Science and Technology, you only need to take a step, and a path will appear for you to trod on; you only need to share a word, and you shall find mentors ready to guide you at every stage.

All of us here, I am sure, have had several mentors, who have volunteered to help and in turn, have made you the person you are. I do not know how I would have fared if that one piece of advice hadn’t arrived to urge me for the post of a Techfest manager, if those feedbacks hadn’t shown me right from wrong, if that one Professor hadn’t offered a project (off his own will) which eventually landed me at ETH Zurich, if the wisdom of so many hadn’t helped me sail through my placements. Such mentors, with whom one can discuss ‘one-self’ and be heard and answered; be they friends, seniors or professors, are a rare and fortunate phenomena. I will surely miss the ones we find waiting at every turn and corner, here at IIT.

Yet, the greatest hole shall be the one left by friends I have made here, the ones I have loved dearly. As the waves of sweet and salty memories wash over me, I recall some of the best moments from the past four years of my life. I see those times Puneet and Anjali embarrassed me with their crazy little acts and my lips curl up into a smile. I laugh when I hear Anjali and I brag about our dates or others calling us a couple. I can almost glimpse Prashi’s scared face at the arrival of simple surprises and feel her joy at hard-earned successes. I remember those long discussions JR and I had about ‘me’ and I hope I am able to return a part of what I owe him. The news of his and Sudesh’s recent feats in typing, languages or SD and Scramble flash into memory and I hit my forehead hard, tired of hearing them brag. I almost feel a wicked satisfaction for having surpassed S(t)udesh’s performance at every guitar lesson. I look upon the time Ankita and I spent, trying to help Aditi; pouring wisdom into things, we ourselves understood little about; and I smile with satisfaction as I sense the unity the tension had brought out in us. As the retrospection session with Vallari flicks through my mind, I find myself grown wiser, all over again. I curse my naivety for having ever tried to urge Akshata to study in our first year. I stretch my hand to hold onto the blissful past, yet the sands of time slip through my fingers. 

So here I lay helpless, knowing that I shall yearn for the long conversations about almost everything with Prashi, the satisfaction of teasing her for no reason at all. I shall miss those night-outs while talking for hours with Anjali, begging for sleep to come, yet never submitting to it. I so badly want all those fun and frolic-some ‘Enthu-Punters’ sessions back! I will miss Alha’s fundae and philosophy of love, life and happiness; she was always so ready to share. I feel sorry for the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. sessions with friends that are lost to me now. Most of all, I will miss the feeling of comfort from knowing that come what may, I have ten stupid friends to share my joys with, to cry my heart out to, to accompany me for a coffee, to share a night-out, to pacify my fears, to understand and support my dreams; to be there by my side whenever I shall have need of them!

As I stand here today, about to leave, I know I'll look back and feel blessed that IIT happened. I'll look back and cry hard for it ended. Irrespective of what I take with me and what I leave behind, these shall always have been the best years of my life! Thank you everyone for being there for me! And I hope that the common thread that binds us together is strong enough to hold us against the wills of time and distance! 

Signing off...

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