NALSAR. The dream of thousands, an Island of excellence and a temple of intellectuality. Right? Wrong! Of my sixteen years that I lived before coming to this place, not once did I hear the words like ‘Personal connect’, ‘Being there’, ‘Trust’, ‘Dependency’, etc. Had I told, say, my cousin that I trust you to be there when I need you and that somehow I’m dependent on you, he would fire back with “Baigan. Kaike toh bhi baataN karre yaaroN?” (translates into ‘Dude! (uhm, literally ‘Brinjal’) What bullshit are you even speaking?’

Now, that’s what this place is all about. It sounds melodious when we claim that we are so far from the city that we’re a civilization in itself. Well, maybe we are. But we’re one disgustingly fake civilization. You win a moot here and you’ll have way more number of people become jealous of you than appreciate you, in spite of their ‘Yipeee, you’re a stud!’ wall posts you’ll have on your Facebook wall. You win an open challenge and the teams you managed to defeat in those rounds will wish and pray that you face a miserable loss at the actual moot. And no, the MPL rankings make no sense within the campus, even though you’ll go around bragging about them when you’re interning.

From the CGPAs to the elections, it’s all about you being in the limelight and getting all the accolades rather than appreciating someone else for doing well at what they did. Last semester, one of my batchmates, who figures in the list of top rankers of my batch, had asked me if there’s any sport he can play just to get a certificate out of it so as to add it to his CV. He was meticulous in telling me that he can devote ninety minutes every day for the same. That’s what we are. We don’t do things because we ‘like’ them. We do them because the world would throw accolades for doing them. Yes, he wanted Rhodes and, oh God! I shall jump into a pool of ants if he gets something like that.

We can fake each and every virtue that exists in this world. Every single one except for ‘modesty’. No, that’s nowhere to be found here. All the ‘catching ups’ and ‘going on a walk’ to develop a ‘personal bonding’. (I guess we can make a lexicon of NALSAR jargon!). All of that shit is much far from being genuine. Something happens to you and you need people around you so that you can ‘talk about it’. You need people to ‘vent out your frustration’ if something’s wrong. This place does teach a lot about ‘survival’. But not without people. You start talking to people about your life so much that if something goes wrong, you can hardly do without ‘talking’ to them about it. You make yourselves so weak as a person that the ‘survival’ this place teaches you itself turns out to be fake.

However, all of this ain’t fool proof. I guess a fake world filled with fake goodness isn’t so much to complain of. But this world we spend half a decade in does have periodical lapses. There’s a bitch called ‘ego’ which thrives in every mind, body and soul (and also in every part that can move by itself 😛 ). The superiority complex is so much that if you crack a joke and no one laughs, you’d would put in every bit of creativity to throw another one and make up for it. All this, because it hurts. It hurts badly when the curtains of fakeness are raised. And hence, you would rather have people showing phony concern than have real people who don’t give a damn. When one of my batchmates had passed away, I could see a few countable souls who were unfeignedly aggrieved. All others were engaged in deploying some or the other means to show to the world that theirs was the biggest loss in his departure. (Rest in peace, my friend. Look down and smile at us for we are the bastards of the first order!)

No! We won’t change. We’ve come up with such arduous unwritten and unspoken rules that they’ve begun to rule us. I used to love roaming on the flag road, after dinner, with a set of loud people. But not anymore. It’s sometimes laboriously difficult to find if someone’s being true or not. And considering what it takes to fit it into this disillusioned civilization, I’d rather sit in my room and meditate. Yes, I love to sit alone in a corner during the classes rather than act like I care about every random bucko. I’m at least genuinely happy with what I do. Ah! Minority, only this time – by choice! 😛

“Quiet Please”, said the chair umpire and the score board read ‘40-30 : 6-3 . 6-5’. All I was hoping was that my first serve goes straight to the point where I intend it to. Nothing in the world seemed more important than this one shot. Dad had closed his eyes unwilling to see the ball going anywhere else, of which the probability was quite high. Mom had a tensed look in her eyes hoping that this shot marks the finish of the National Championships. ‘Concentrate, this is one moment where you could feel anything but nervous’, I said to myself. And as I toss the ball, I could see not just my eye balls rolling up, but of the entire crowd around me. The ball goes high in the air and before it starts its descent – Zzzaatt! It falls almost on the ‘T’ and hits the opponent’s racquet frame, never to be seen again! That is it! It’s done! The chair umpire announces ‘Game, Set, Match – Shareef. 6-3, 7-5’.

That one moment – that walk towards to the net to shake hands with other guy, that first look I gave to my parents and vice versa, and that night where all I could do is repeat ‘Thank You’ to anyone who came to congratulate me – that moment still is stored in the most safest and impregnable part of my brain. If I could ever go back to one time in my past to experience something all over again, it’s certainly this one. Never ever was I so happy on the Tennis court. And never ever did I find such joy in being exhausted and tired.

As I recall all of this, sitting on that part of NALSAR’s Boys Hostel terrace which is fancily called the ‘Dark side of the moon’, I get a feeling that it was all just a dream. Maybe I woke up or maybe I’m still dreaming. Maybe I’m something else in reality or maybe I’m just a character in someone else’s dream. How exactly am I to believe that one day I was holding a National Tournament’s trophy and on another day I’m sitting beside a shrinking lake gazing at millions of stars? Did all of it really happen to a tiny speck like me who’s on this particle called ‘planet’ which is hurling through the infinite blackness? But wait, it’s not all that unbelievable, is it? You just don’t value something until it’s lost. It never crossed my mind at that time that the memories that very moment had framed would be revisited a hundred times. I remember not being satisfied then. Yes, I wasn’t. I had lost Doubles in Semis and I was just regretting not doing what I did in Singles. I wanted more and I looked at those kids who had this very moment of glory way more number of times than I did. How much ever you do something or achieve something, you still feel incomplete. I guess that’s one of the most remarkable things of life – It’s never so good that it cannot get better and, sometimes, it’s never so bad that it cannot get worse.

And all such transcendental experiences are met only you sit alone and think of the past events. When the glory you once had is no more, I think the higher power should have the decency of stripping you of the knowledge that you even had it. But I’m not all that sad. I shouldn’t be. Maybe one day I’ll sit at some place similar and reminisce this exact moment. Where it’s just me! – sitting under this infinite blanket of blackness, gazing at the stars and thinking of the mysteries of creation. Yes, I will.

[This happens to be a true story and I’m the ‘boy’ in it, while ‘you’ is a girl who’s a batchmate and a good friend.]

So, you land up in the new city which you never ever visited in your life. New fragrance, new streets, new language and new transport system. Well, the last one is a drastic change if we consider its size and usage. I’m sure it leaves you in awe if you jump into a metropolitan city from a mountainous and less accessible one. However, you aren’t alone with all these new-fangled experiences. You have a company of a boy who’s younger than you and is a complete stranger to you when his whereabouts are considered. But, he happens to be your batchmate and quite probably one of your good friends in that isolated 55 acres beside a shrinking lake. And you start living with him for a month, just to tame that bitch called ‘internship’ that’d sugar-coat your CV.

Day 1 – You wake up at 6:30 AM and even before lightening up yourselves, you light up the Blackberry. It has a neat message displayed on its screen – ‘Data Services Charges – Rs. 0.1 | Available Balance Rs. 20.84’. You curse that black piece of technology for engaging itself in a spree of piquantly deducting your balance. Yes, it has been happening since a few months and hundreds of hard earned rupees your parents threw at you, time and again, have gone to waste. But then, why bother fixing it when it ain’t poking you! So, you carry on with all the activities that would make you look/smell beguilingly delight for the day. In the meanwhile, this boy gets you a recharge of Rs. 50 just so that your zero balance doesn’t collide with the roaming charges and ban even the incoming calls. You’re out of home for the day and you thank him on the way!

While the crowded bus creeps through the busy city, with merciful intervals of steadiness, you rejuvenate your love towards the same Blackberry. Punching in keys to tell the whole world, at least most of it, about how/what you’re doing. And the most wonderful thing of all – ignoring those tiny little messages about the balance deduction.

5:00 PM – You’ve been blown out of office as the work hours end. You go meet the boy at the Bus Station and throw yourselves along with him into an empty bus. While the bus crawls through the same route, the herd inside increases massively in number. You start sweating while at the same time thanking that you got a place to kneel your ass down, as it gets darker outside.

7:00 PM – You peep out through the window and try to figure out the proximity of the bus from your stop. The boy claims that the stop is almost there and asks you to get down through the ladies door at the front while he’s going to do the same through the back one for gents. With enormous struggle, you manage to reach the door. The bus stops at a traffic signal and voila! You jump out like there’s a herd of rats pinching your butt. As the bus moves away, your nervous system reacts to the fact that this boy hasn’t got down. Well, he’s going to get down at the intended stop and you were clever enough to do that at a traffic signal. With all the decency, the boy gets down at the stop only to find that you’re missing. He sneaks into the bus to see if you’ve been lazy enough not to move. Realizing that you’ve disappeared, he takes out his mobile and punches the call button to reach you. Heck! How could he? You’ve managed to blow a bountiful surprise at his face by dissipating all the balance your mobile had!

Now what? You rush to a mobile store to get a recharge. But, wait. Do you remember your own number? Using it for a year shouldn’t really help you do that. So, you dive into your own mobile to trace those ten digits. In the meanwhile, the boy gets a little panicked and he calls the girl at whose place you both have been staying. That girl, with a calm and sensible mind, asks him to stay where he is while she gets your mobile recharged. But the boy can barely stand still. So, he decides to walk a little bit and find a mobile store for himself. Hurray! He reaches the place where you thought you were lost. You look at him and start blabbering excuses while he exposes his angry face at you trying to enquire the crazy reason you got lost. But hey! He shouldn’t have panicked, right? So, you shout at him for panicking for a mere fact that you were lost in this new unknown city amidst all the uncommunicative people. He realizes that the screw is indeed a bit loose in someone’s brain and decides to keep quite.

No, no talk on the way back. He looks out trying to cool himself off and failing to find a way to vent it off while you dive into your Blackberry again to talk to your distant cousin/relative/friend. For one moment, he’s reminded of the fact that he has no sibling and it brings him joy! Taking care of his own self is what all he’s been doing in his life. A gazillion thoughts run into his head. The most important one still haunts him. What if he begets such a careless/carefree daughter? Would he still love her? And how does one teach ‘care’ to someone? – The thought of this shatters him and he’s forced by his inner self to stop from carrying the intellection ahead. Period.

Last night, I was watching Mughal-e-Azam for, maybe the hundredth time. The movie shows Jahangir to be in love with Anarkali and wants to marry her against Akbar’s wishes. They defy Akbar’s law which puts Anarkali on the death row. Fortunately, her mother produces a ring which Akbar had given her when she informed him of his son’s birth. This ring could be produced anytime in Akbar’s lifetime to get any wish granted. One question which has always popped up at the end of the movie was: ‘Why the hell didn’t Anarkali’s mother wish for Anarkali to become the Princesses when she reproduced Zin-e-Ilahi’s ring rather than merely wishing for the nullification of her death sentence?’ This question has remained unanswered since always and will be so for eternity.

Well, questions! There are a lot of them, with and without answers. But few of them, simply put, are not supposed to be asked at all. Say, what if Andy Dufrense had not got the last cell towards the bulwark, but one somewhere in the middle? Where would he have dug the hole to free himself? Oh! And Why is it that Hermione did not use her time-turner to bring back Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore or Dobby when she could make Buckbeak spring back to life? And in what language do the deaf people think when they could never hear any? Why do you call it a Television set when it’s only one Television? Why is does a fridge have a light while freezer doesn’t? Why is it that the question mark requires the usage of ‘shift’ and is above ‘/’ while you use it much more than ‘/’?

One may try answering any of these, but one should not. They are the best when they’re left as they are. The perennially perplexed questions which would botch up all the sense the world dribbles if they’re given answers. You can keep on throwing questions at yourselves until you reach the ultimate one: ‘why did God create the Apple fruit and place restrictions over it for Adam and Eve in Heaven? What was the point?’. Well, as Denny Crane says in the very first episode of Boston Legal, “Questions like that will kill you. You don’t ask. That’s the point!” There are enough questions which are awaiting answers. These don’t have to be a part of them!

They say that every human being is born with a set of abilities, skills and capacities to do things in his life. Those who use their abilities wisely in a timely manner end up successful. But the problem is that it just takes a while to realize this fact. And by the time you do realize, you would’ve wasted much of your happening life already, doing ten things simultaneously. And there goes the ‘success’. You become nothing but a victim of your unplanned and undesired childhood.

And when you think of all this, you turn yourselves into a poignant silence. The kind of abnormal life I’ve had has put me into this wonderful dilemma. If one asks as to how I’m just 18 and into the 3^rd year of my graduation or why my 10^th standard memorandum is titled ‘private’, I repeat the same old story to everyone. The double promotions my parents forced me to go through, the Tennis addiction and disappointments I’ve been through and the reason I didn’t do my schooling from the 8^th standard onwards. Though the people might just wash it off as a fib and taradiddle, this is the truth.  This is indeed the truth and I’m not at all proud of it. Yes, I might be the youngest of my batch and I swear I’m not proud of it.

No, I’m not a good writer. I’m not half as good as the kids who’ve joined my college a year after I did. I’m not good at academics. Not at moots. Not at debates. Not at Tennis. Not at Web Developing. Not even with the basic General Knowledge. As much as I love CLATGyan, I hate it for a mere reason that these kids pinch my butt making me realize that I’m not as good as they are. Every ‘Ask-Us’ query that I reply stabs me to remind me of the truth that I don’t deserve NALSAR. I’ve never had what it takes to be a NALSARite and I never will do.

I wish I had done one thing. Just one. And had nailed it. I wish I had started playing Tennis a little earlier. I wish I had taken the courage to convince my parents that I’d really want to become a commercial pilot, instead of going berserk over the Flight Simulator. I wish I had taken up Web Developing seriously enough to make it my profession. I wish I had gone to school and done nothing else. I so wish the world had been different. I wish I had been good with one thing rather than being nowhere with so many. Well, I wish that at least these thoughts, which spiel again and again, hadn’t crossed my mind.

But now what? I’m definitely not going to get my Childhood back and even if I do, I’m certain that it wouldn’t be better than what it had been. And whom do I blame for this? That is exactly the trouble I have, at the very moment. This remains, and continues to remain, a question which cannot be answered. The closest I had ever been to answering that question is to blame it all on my existence.

Just like what Mirza Ghalib said:

Gham-e-Hasti Ka Asad, Kis Se Ho Juz Marh Ilaaj?
Shamma Har Rang Mein Jalti Hai Saher Hone Tak!

What cure does your suffering from the pain of existence have? (but death)
A candle burns in every colour until the dawn.

Not a single day goes by without his name crossing by my mind. And as I recall those conversations I had with my 1st semester roommate, I’m writing this just to preserve the moments I had with him. A few of them which I can specifically attribute to that Mallu guy with “Flash” written on his back of the T Shirt, as if he knew since ages that he’s just a flash for this planet.

It was 29th of June 2010 when I first saw him in the Examination Hall during our admission interviews. When I reached the SNAS’s desk, SNAS passed over a chit which had “Room Number 214 – BH II – Mahesh Gopan” written on it. He was then giving a lecture on what to do and what not while I was scanning the scene behind me to find that Gopan Guy. And well, I see him waiting right next to me. Waiting for his turn to receive a chit with my name and to listen to the same SNAS cassette. I shook hands with him and said “Hi… We’re roommates!.. Asad” and he reverts back saying “Hey! Nice. My name is there re, on that chit you’re holding!”. … Putting a titter on our faces, we then headed to our room.

While Sparta was cleaning our room…( at least he was pretending to), I introduced my roommate to my dad while he introduced me to his dad. The same followed for the mothers. Though I don’t remember the entire conversation my dad had with his, I remember his dad asking mine, “Which batch of LLB did you pass out from?” and my dad replied “1977”. His dad startled a bit and said “Aaah.. Even I’m a 1977 pass out!” and my dad replied saying “Nice! And our sons will pass out from the same batch as well”. Both of them laughed hysterically while I and Gopan stared at each other. Obviously, he had the smile he always had. Always! As if it was just as inherent as one of the parts of his body. Or maybe, that was just Gopan. He had the same smile even during some professor’s bawl out for missing his attendance.

Initially, all we shared were our ragging experiences! How we escaped and how we were trapped by our brute seniors. How our schooling went and who all he dated and hated. The conversations weren’t often personal. He usually turned up late to bed and woke up late. Generally, the only time we used to see each other awake was at around 8:30 in the morning when I used to try waking him up for the class. “What’s the first class dude?” was his default reply. Back then we were given the Time Table and I stuck it on my wall from where I used to give the answer to his question. He then used to shoot some lame excuse to hit the bed back again saying “It’s okay re… I’ll see you in the next class!” Sometimes I did try tickling and feeling up his body, just to wake him up. But that affected him in no way and he did tell me many times that he isn’t ticklish. During the end of that semester, whenever we met, poking each other was the natural way of greeting. And oh! we all know this, if someone had knocked on some door at around 1:30 in the night, no one even had a slightest doubt that it wasn’t him touring the hostel for food. “Dude… Have you got any food re?” was his common dialogue at every door.

And the time passed as we shared a lot of personal things. Definitely way more than normal friends do. We were not just friends, but good ones. And obviously the conversations, by the virtue of being personal, cannot be disclosed here.

28th June 2011 – At the staircase near the gym on the first floor. He was sitting on the first step looking at a colourful birthday card. On asking who gave it, he smiled and said “Someone re!”. Well that was enough for anyone who knew him to understand. We were still smiling while he got up said he was going somewhere and the last thing we did, obviously, was to poke! He poked me and when I tried, he escaped! .. That unsuccessful poke, really hard to believe, was the last one!

Wondering who actually the loser is now, I don’t think it is Gopan who’s missing the world. It’s us who’s missing him. He has gone away living the best of years and leaving a lot of memories. He managed to escape the phase where you’re to work, earn, take care of your family and friends, grow old, get on a wheel chair and of course to struggle with whatever difficulties life would give. He flew away taking off during his birthday party, that too while swimming!, with no need of putting on the landing lights again.

Praying that his family gets the courage and strength to deal with the loss,
Asad.

—

One of his Favourite Quotations on Facebook reads:

In my next life I want to live my life backwards. You start out dead and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old people’s home feeling better every day. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go collect your pension, and then when you start work, you get a gold watch and a party on your first day. You work for 40 years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement. You party, drink alcohol, and are generally promiscuous, then you are ready for high school. You then go to primary school, you become a kid, you play. You have no responsibilities, you become a baby until you are born. And then you spend your last 9 months floating in luxurious spa-like conditions with central heating and room service on tap, larger quarters every day and then Voila! You finish off as an orgasm! – Woody Allen

Blogs or Weblogs have become “cool” these days. I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t have or dream of having one. But, it’s surprising how the Blog fever has spread faster than any viral disease on this planet. And everyone has their own reason for having one. Some plan to show off that even they can ‘write’ while some want to make the readers cry by telling them the dilemmas they’ve been facing in their lives. Whatever the aim is, it all comes down to one common point. Making others read and appreciate. This is exactly what I wouldn’t do with my blog. I neither have the desire nor the inclination to get applauses for taking my time out and writing. Well… then there has to be a reason for everything. (Somewhat similar to what the theory of determinism says). And what is the reason behind me wasting the time to write all this crap?

You see, Change is inevitable. It happens with everyone. The older you grow, the more mature you become. But what is missing in people these days are the reminiscences of their past. Until and unless you recall what you were at a certain point of time or before a life changing event occurred, you will not stay on the ground. While it’s okay to fly high in your own territory, this particular phenomena causes people to intrude over others’. There has to be something which slaps you on the back of your head and reminds you of what you were before whatever made you what you are right now.

But the thought that I might just lose track of the past and fly over and above the cruising altitude scares the shit out of me. And that is the very reason I have this blog. To keep track of what I’ve been. Maybe, I might laugh at myself when I read this after 10 years. I’m sure I will. At least, I hope to. Well, that’s the point. I would’ve been changed by then. But, this blog would be a way to recall what I was. As I said earlier, Change is bound to happen. And the worst part is that you won’t realize it. Only the people who are around you are the ones who’ll tell you whether you’ve changed or not. But, what better than knowing the change you’ve gone through by yourselves. Spending a few minutes everyday to write a post won’t hurt. When I read these posts after a few months or years, that is when I’ll notice the change. And as I said, if your ego is taking you to places, your ailerons will be levelled with these recollections. And this will make sure that the flow of coolant in your body is steady.

Hoping that this blog serves me for what it has been made.