Yet again...

It’s the eve of my 24th birthday today. Another year has gone by me, and as I stop to take stock, as if my life were a repository of inventory, I see yet again that there are some things that I should carry ahead from this year and many things that I should leave behind as burden that would only negatively affect my productivity.

Suddenly my life till now seems like insignificant baggage, though I have lived close to a quarter of a century. I stand and look at it as a man with excess baggage would, critically analysing what he needs, what he wants and what he should leave behind.

With the passing of this year I leave behind many things, people and intangibles – mainly a wide spectrum of emotions. I leave behind those whom I would have loved to hold on to – wonderful people who I was probably destined to be associated with only until then. I leave behind a trail of moments that gave me immense pleasure, and those that simply wrecked me. I leave behind essentials which probably are never meant to be mine. I don’t exactly know, whether it is appropriate to say that I leave these all behind, or if simply I have lost it all. I always take pleasure in the fact I fight till the end, and therefore I can say with a certain amount of confidence that I have not been careless or reckless. There have been those situations in which extrinsic factors contributed to the brutal change in the direction I had chosen to follow. I leave behind that direction as well.

But the last year has been my debutant year of financial independence and of professional identity. It was a year in which the fundamental right to the freedom of movement was acquired by me in letter and spirit. Incidentally, it also gave me my first flight journey. It has been the year that suddenly made me more of an adult than I was at 21 or 22 or 23. It gave me a special designation, a responsibility and a different playground. It was in this year that something really dawned on me. I came to understand what I stood for, or rather what I would stand for. My exposure to many things came this year, and one of that was Vishaka Hari. What a performer!!! What also I carry ahead are a few people I met and who have stuck on. What I specially love to carry are those who have been with me over the years, and continue to be with me.

I don’t know if I am particularly looking forward to tomorrow. I am not even expecting a surprise. In fact I don’t think I know of any one who would care to plan one for me. I don’t even know if that would be a thumb’s down for me. In fact I don’t even know if that matters.

I don’t know what to expect the coming year. But I sure have a list of things that I want. For one thing, I want proof that nice things happen to nice people, and not the opposite, because all of the last year I only saw the nice things happen to the mean people. And all my ‘nicety’ had the last laugh!! Last year also saw what I call the phenomenon of ‘lateral expansion’, thanks to the adipose tissue enlargement. I have been meaning to work on that for a long time. Honest to God, I have. But when sugar and candy beckon so lovingly, when it’s the perfect solution for a bad mood swing or the perfect medicine for a broken heart(?), there’s no way I can turn down such a juicy offer.

I stand yet again at a new thresh hold, with a lot of inspiration and aspiration. I think I’m ready to face the winds yet again. I don’t mean to be cynical, as I’m often misunderstood to be. I’ve unpacked and repacked, and I’m set to go.

Memories in Pune....

In the last few days, I have missed the city that was witness to the years of my most significant evolution. The city - which shaped me, my dreams and may be even a large part of my destiny. I entered that city, fresh from school, to kick start my legal education, and spent five long years in the city that did not seem even half as long. Pune gave me some of the best moments of my life, and I wish I could have captured them all into a capsule. But leave alone capsule, I have not even frozen those moments into the stills of optical science’s greatest contribution ever- photography!!! But I won’t brood because those moments are so vivid that I don’t really require the assistance of science to keep my spirits high. My memory space is adequate, and as of now penning this down serves the purpose.

Certain things and places are dearest to me and as an ode to all of them, here goes:

The railway station:

Being at a train station always gives me the jitters. I had to worry about whether my I was carrying my ticket, whether it was booked for the right day and date, whether I had reached the station at the right time. I verified by pulling my ticket out a million times and then put it back only to check for it again, as if mysteriously, it will disappear into platform ‘twelve and three quarters’ or a stray magic wand would have changed the date and time printed on the face of it. I also nurse fears about whether I had packed the necessary things, my books especially, if I was going on study leave and whether I will be able to enter the train with all my things, though my luggage was never out of the lines of control. And last, but not the least thanks to the sleazy men that only God knows why He really created, whether I will be able to board the train with most of dignity in place.

This was a place that brought me contrasting emotions depending upon my purpose of being there. As I was leaving for home, it was a special feeling, I looked forward to going home, where I would be the celebrated iconic figure. Self praise is one thing, but when I hear my mother bragging about the university rank I recently secured, or the moot my team recently won or the internship I had secured with a law firm, it made me feel like God Himself. Those are the times when I choose to completely concur with the theory of Aham Brahmaasmi (I am the Brahman). Not to mention the times when I return to Pune, so alone at the station, so unwelcome in the city, so uncared for, yet where I will survive and be King!

The auto wallahs deserve a special auto ratna award. They will, except for an errant few, run on the standard route and will charge the appropriate sum, unlike most of their brethren in Madras, where like a parallel to the world wrestling federation runs the biggest farce in terms of auto fares!!!

Kamala Nehru Park

This place has a fond space in my heart, as being the park where most of my attempts to shape up took place. I have run, jogged, walked and stretched in the precincts of this spacious garden, and watched the retired couples brace their lives post sixty with such hearty enthusiasm. The naariyal pani (tender coconut) seller outside became the significant provider of the only healthy food I consumed. Then were the numerous ‘chat’ shops a friend I always munched over, the kachchi dabeli stall which sold the second best kachchi dabeli in the city and the sweet little Dattatreya Temple, whose presiding deity became the answerer of most of my prayers for good marks, winning moots and ultimately having secured a good job. Then was the mithai dukaan around the corner…Am racking my brains to remember the name…was a R.M. Ghadke and sons if I remember right that sold Pedas and displayed them so well that I was mostly drooling at the pedas and most often than not gave into my desire and nullified the effect of my exercise. Soon, I discovered a little lane that turned in left so that I could avoid the fatal attraction.

Walks in lanes of Prabhat Road

I have a theory I often share. If you are bored, there are few things you can do: go for a movie/ go shopping/ eat out. But when you are bored and penniless, there is even less that you can do, and one of that is just what Kanksha and I did. We almost had the map of the bylanes of Prabhat Road by the back of our hands, walking round and round and round discussing everything under the sun. And if it had rained the trees formed a wet, green canopy above us, and the damp roads and the humid weather!!! Ah that was life….

Kaka Halwai and Chitale Bandhu Mithai Wale

Well, two sweet shops that rule the world!!! Kaka Halwai was the greatest factor for my never losing weight, and Chitale Bandhu was the reason my parents looked most forward to my home coming visits, when I would never fail to carry their favourite Bhakarwadi. If you, dear reader don’t know what I’m talking about, I would suggest that you make a visit to the city solely for the purpose, as no amount of my explanation will do the sweet-tangy-salty savoury any justice.

The numerous Rasvanthi Grahs

It essentially means juice centres and in the context of Pune, refers to the umpteen sugar cane juice centres in the city, which will amaze you with the absence of a single fly. A tall glass is simply divine, and for those who have the taste, a dash of lime and ginger provides a variant from the standard. Priced nominally at 5 Rs.- 6 Rs for a glass, and offering health and taste simultaneously, it is adequate reason why a true nationalist should start an “anti foreign cola” campaign. That brings me to:

Lakshmi Road:

Of course, the city of Pune has all the features of a modern city, with shopping malls mushrooming all over. But to pamper the true shopper in you, visit Lakshmi Road. The variety of trinkets, earrings, hair clips, bands, bangles, hand bags, chappals…You can go there almost every day, and yet not be bored and get lost in the lanes of where I discovered paradise. The splash of colour in the bed spreads and curtains on display is a sure shot cure to a bad mood swing. There is also a shop which name I don’t remember…which sells the world’s best plastics, tubs, buckets - all shapes and sizes. That’s where Kanksha and I spotted the enchanting- white with black flowered dinner set. God!!! We would have both agreed to get married to any donkey, if the dinner set came as a gift or dowry!!

The Rainy Mornings:

When class is at 7.15 a.m. and its been pouring without a break for the last 4 days, when the roads are water logged, and the leaves of the trees are dripping, when the umbrella is not sufficient shelter and when the thought of water now makes you sick, we still needed to get to class at 7.15. A cuppa chai at the canteen after the first class, or the tapri wallah over a warm smoke and conversation for my friends, and over simply conversation for me, was what woke us up after the first lecture, through which most of us continued our sleep.


The Zillion quaint eateries:

Actually, I would have to dedicate entire chapters to the zillion quaint eateries we ate at. But for the sake of brevity:

Vohuman Café(spelling mistake?)
The world’s best cheese omlet. I only managed to eat there a couple of times, because the guilt of being a Brahmin and consuming an egg created waves of high frequency disturbances in my brain. So the refrain became better that the indulge.

The Nameless Kachchi Dabeli Wallah on the corner turning of J.M.Road
Now this has a story as well. It goes that I had the debit card of a bank which only had two A.T.Ms in the entire city of Pune. The nearest was about two kilometres from my hostel. So if I ever needed money, Kanksha and I would embark on a project- to walk and walk back. Why we walked and decided not to take a bus or auto is a question I would answer in Kansha’s voice: because walking rids thighs of cellulite!! But as we talked and walked, the combination of our hunger and the inviting aroma, would beckons us to enjoy the Dabeli there. Sigh!!!memories….

Fantasy
Fantasy was the owls flocked. And the nocturnal binge in strawberry thick shake was the factor that egged on the non-alcohol-drinkers to be awake at those ungodly hours. This place is shut tight in the day time, as the owner believes in catering to the niche population of owls that did not have sclerotic vision.

German Bakery
The biggest attraction at Koregaon Park, apart from the park and Osho’s ashram German Bakery is a way of communicating to the vegetarians of the world that the cause of vegetarianism is totally worth and completely rewarding. The desserts here are worth a life time and you could also chance upon a hot doped greek lost in the figments of his imagination.

Chaitanya Dining
The place where I was exposed to the world’s best paranthas, the world’s best rajma chawal and the world’s best dal maakhni. And if I forget the Shahi Lassi I can well be convicted for a crime that may be even the President would never grant clemency for. The large glass is a challenge and a bigger one for me than resisting the melting butter on my hot Parantha that Kanksha always eyed disapprovingly.

Peppinos:
Kanksha called it Poppinos and that makes it sound more appetising than its real name. the place where I had juice of the combination of apple, guava and banana, not to forget the Naachos with cream cheese…. Am sure hungry….


Anand Bakery
Again an olden-golden bakery that sold cream rolls and other snacks that are worth a life time. The biscuits were a marvel too. Biscuits remind me of:


Shrewsbury at Kayani
Seems to be handed down to Pune from the Colonial era, the Shrewsbury biscuits are actually worth a special birth. The shop will shut at the stroke of eight.(or six?) and even if you go down on your knees pleading, there will be no mercy. I told you, it’s worth another janma.

Am sure you must be wondering why every soul in that city of bliss is not over weight. Well that’s a question even I have pondered over, rather pointlessly. Pune is like a game of trasure hunt with little secrets waiting to be discovered. A city of convenience, of absolutely no pretensions. More so a city where life is at its best or can I say best ‘est’?

Loved and Lost...

Most pleasures are foregone with the passage of time. What gives that special adrenalin rush today is replaced tomorrow. Sometimes voluntarily and sometimes involuntarily. I completely acknowledge that this is the most boring way to open an essay on the topic of pleasure. But I cannot but help sigh at those little somethings I’ve lost as time galloped past me, and all that bottled up negativity may be the cause of this poor start, which I humbly request my reader to excuse me for.

Thanks to the end of my dependency, I have blessed myself with something that in effect is more detrimental, than developmental. I even feel a pang of guilt about referring to it as a necessary evil, because it in fact is not so necessary after all. Well all this build up is not to unravel some 9th wonder of the world. Nine, being the choice because that would make it more wondrous than the 8th , which is in effect is superlative to the 7th. To break the suspense, the object of all this melodrama is my newly acquired vahana, Sanskrit for vehicle. Duh!!! The build up was not worth it. Was it? And to top the disappointment let me clarify that I’m not even referring to a snazzy Lexus or a breathtaking 400c.c bike. Beginnings are humble they say, and mine completely adheres to the law (for once!), but that does not have any effect in terms of camouflaging my pride. Well if my sweet Ganheshji could so proudly flaunt his little mouse, I think nothing in the world can snatch me of my right in being pompous about my Black(and ttchch..slightly dented already!!!) Honda activa.

Well, now that the protagonist of my story has been successfully launched, I can move on to how I nearly I ran, or rather rode into a whizzing auto. And you, dear reader, must appreciate my humility in admitting that the fault was completely mine. But behind this averted catastrophe is a story of the past.

The past – when I was still a pedestrian, who had to wait at the zebra crossings to cross the road, the one who had to often slip into the role of a self assumed traffic police to make it alive to the other side of the road. The times when I could stop open mouthed and wide eyed at a woman with appalling make – up or stare fondly at the doggie at the window of a plush car, or gape at the sky wondering if it would rain today, or indulge in a conversation with my alter ego, or stop and stare at the display window of a shop that had branches almost in every city, was in the least a special attraction, yet for no reason excited me to know that it was going to come up in my neighbourhood, or to stand and smell the scent of the roses in the garlands in the flower market, or to swear loudly in English that was never understood by some vagabond who passed a remark that I assumed had to be lewd or just to watch the faces of the other pedestrians and commuters twitch with expression as they engaged in a conversation either with themselves or with the invisible person over the wires or the wireless blue tooth(wonder what made it a tooth and that too blue!!) of the cell phone. Walking gave me a part of the day with myself. To come to terms with my day that was closing in. It allowed me to look around and absorb a part of the world I lived in.

I still have not outgrown that habit, which is the reason for the possible collision. A house had been decked with lighting- a decorated drive way- a playing band. A wedding? An engagement? A party? What was it? I had to know, and in all my inquisitivity about what was happening or going to happen in the life a stranger, I was blissfully unaware of the auto honking at me, trying to distract me from my distraction. And so it had happened.

But this does not mean that all is lost. I enjoy scooting around the city on two wheels. I love the wind on my skin. I love the symbol affixed on my vehicle that announces that I’m a lawyer. I love being able to reach my work place without incurring the wrath and curse of the auto wallahs. There are many things I love, yet many others I’ve lost.