The rain.
Dark clouds, and a cold wind. Walking through wet grass and slush. The first few drops wetting the ground, falling on my palm, sending the skinny dogs running for cover. Then they fall faster and faster, drenching me and everything else in sight - blurring my vision, and sharpening the senses.
The rain is my first vivid memory of the place opposite Katwaria Sarai.
It leaves its cool, wet touch on all that has happened since we arrived. The night of the freshers' party; that afternoon of rollicking 'pittoo' on the football field in torrential downpour; the scurry to the morning classes under overcast skies; and the sipping of hot chai with pakoras or samosas in the evenings dark with the promise of rain.
Old-Hostel
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Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
It all happened that Thursday!!!!
Long long ago when I was a kid, I had wild dreams of what I wanted to be when I grew up. One of them was to be a detective. Somehow the idea of wearing black hat, black goggles with a sniffing talent for secrets had a seductive appeal. I am reliving those dreams here at ISI.
*Are they or are they not?*
*Is that kid really older than me? Damn, what rot!*
*Did she steal my J that I bought? *
*Is he shubhchintak? What gutts he has got....*
It all began.... that Thursday.....
I went to the kitchen at 3 am in the morning, with a stomach roaring in hunger, to fetch my Real Fruit Juice! And what do I see?! Someone had opened my fresh uncut juice and taken a huge sip. Goldilocks was raging in anger! And she came back to her room and started typing this email:
"Dear Nincompoop,
How dare you sip my Real Fruit Juice? No matter how well endowed you might think me to be, I do feel hunger and thirst at odd hours, most hours. At least have the decency to ask if you want me to feed your paapi pait. Or better still try drinking WATER if you are dying of thirst, don't steal. I know what to do with morons like you. I am going to buy some exotic/mouth-watering drink or food and put 10 tablets julaab-ghol in it, stock it in refrigerator and then damn you can have your fill. I swear to God, I WILL do it. And if you die of food poisoning or if your bathroom partner dies of fart stink, I am not to be blamed. I hereby warn you 'Eat my food at your own risk'. And if you don't think that I would not splurge on julaab-ghol, think again. The JRF stipend is sufficient for doing some good research work.
Regards,
Mad And Hungry *********"
But before I could send this email, there came Shubhchintak. You know what it was all about - an anonymous email wondering on the mess managers' innate talent on spending on food! (He meant it, I am just writing it. DON'T GET MAD AT ME LADIES!!) That Shubhchintak stole my "Email Limelight".
But hang on... there was this mystery! Who is shubhchintak? There were theories at dinner. It has to be someone with good English. It has to be someone 'jobless' with computer skills, who else would take the pains of creating such an email id! Who all in ISI could know the meaning of Shubhchintak?? And he has to be an idiot, he wrote the email after delicious (albeit a bit oily) breakfast of vadas! And he could be a she?!!
Conspiracies and allegations were flying everywhere. Kaun hai shubhchintak? Some pointed at the mess managers - 'sympathy votes' they said. Some fingers were directed at Game Theory PhDs 'applied research' I marvelled. People started joking about making the shubhchintak email id, a public email id. Anyone with any complaint can use it to send emails to the ISI community. So we talked that Shubhchintak could voice on issues like 'flutes are banned in ISI', 'kicking in football is injurious to health', 'too much of legs shoots adrenaline levels in the campus'. Jokes flew, so did laughter, and coincidentally the dinner was amazing!
And before we had the chance of settling down in the rooms after the hearty meal, we saw it. Inbox: Resignation from Mess Duties!!!! Drama... Drama.... (I love ISI) Words like 'hurt self-respect', 'wrong allegations', 'not siphoning money' popped out of it. We, women, have no sense of humour. We always take a moral Indira Gandhi stand - if you don't like my government, you shall have none! Sadly, Deboo (da) was a bad President. In spite of the majority of votes of confidence emails, he chose to accept the resignation letter. (Was there a letter, Deboo?) Instead of laughing at the back-boneless emailer, the ladies chose to quit.
Shubhchintak has put food issues in Chinta. But he has helped me in understanding India.... You know why nothing productive happens in India? Imagine, if someone ever proposed that we should have computers in our sarkari-daphtar. The workers would agitate, "What you think we don't do hard work? Machines are better than us?" Bang.... Phoosssh... Bang Bang... Hartaaaal!!!!
Even in ISI, if ever mess accounting was SERIOUSLY proposed, then - "Bills Dikhaao Mutton Pakaao".... "Mess Committee Choro Aaj Choro Aaj"... "Khana Kal Nahi Banege, Nahe Banega".... "Aloo Hardin Haaye Haaye".... "Kaali Daaal Kaun Khaaye".... "Shubhchintak ko Maara Jaaye"...
Ooooooooof!!!! The fear of tomorrow's hunger fills me with rubbish writing. Shubhchintak you stole my thunder, you stole my breakfast..... I curse you with a spendthrift bad-culinary-talented spouse!!!!!
*Are they or are they not?*
*Is that kid really older than me? Damn, what rot!*
*Did she steal my J that I bought? *
*Is he shubhchintak? What gutts he has got....*
It all began.... that Thursday.....
I went to the kitchen at 3 am in the morning, with a stomach roaring in hunger, to fetch my Real Fruit Juice! And what do I see?! Someone had opened my fresh uncut juice and taken a huge sip. Goldilocks was raging in anger! And she came back to her room and started typing this email:
"Dear Nincompoop,
How dare you sip my Real Fruit Juice? No matter how well endowed you might think me to be, I do feel hunger and thirst at odd hours, most hours. At least have the decency to ask if you want me to feed your paapi pait. Or better still try drinking WATER if you are dying of thirst, don't steal. I know what to do with morons like you. I am going to buy some exotic/mouth-watering drink or food and put 10 tablets julaab-ghol in it, stock it in refrigerator and then damn you can have your fill. I swear to God, I WILL do it. And if you die of food poisoning or if your bathroom partner dies of fart stink, I am not to be blamed. I hereby warn you 'Eat my food at your own risk'. And if you don't think that I would not splurge on julaab-ghol, think again. The JRF stipend is sufficient for doing some good research work.
Regards,
Mad And Hungry *********"
But before I could send this email, there came Shubhchintak. You know what it was all about - an anonymous email wondering on the mess managers' innate talent on spending on food! (He meant it, I am just writing it. DON'T GET MAD AT ME LADIES!!) That Shubhchintak stole my "Email Limelight".
But hang on... there was this mystery! Who is shubhchintak? There were theories at dinner. It has to be someone with good English. It has to be someone 'jobless' with computer skills, who else would take the pains of creating such an email id! Who all in ISI could know the meaning of Shubhchintak?? And he has to be an idiot, he wrote the email after delicious (albeit a bit oily) breakfast of vadas! And he could be a she?!!
Conspiracies and allegations were flying everywhere. Kaun hai shubhchintak? Some pointed at the mess managers - 'sympathy votes' they said. Some fingers were directed at Game Theory PhDs 'applied research' I marvelled. People started joking about making the shubhchintak email id, a public email id. Anyone with any complaint can use it to send emails to the ISI community. So we talked that Shubhchintak could voice on issues like 'flutes are banned in ISI', 'kicking in football is injurious to health', 'too much of legs shoots adrenaline levels in the campus'. Jokes flew, so did laughter, and coincidentally the dinner was amazing!
And before we had the chance of settling down in the rooms after the hearty meal, we saw it. Inbox: Resignation from Mess Duties!!!! Drama... Drama.... (I love ISI) Words like 'hurt self-respect', 'wrong allegations', 'not siphoning money' popped out of it. We, women, have no sense of humour. We always take a moral Indira Gandhi stand - if you don't like my government, you shall have none! Sadly, Deboo (da) was a bad President. In spite of the majority of votes of confidence emails, he chose to accept the resignation letter. (Was there a letter, Deboo?) Instead of laughing at the back-boneless emailer, the ladies chose to quit.
Shubhchintak has put food issues in Chinta. But he has helped me in understanding India.... You know why nothing productive happens in India? Imagine, if someone ever proposed that we should have computers in our sarkari-daphtar. The workers would agitate, "What you think we don't do hard work? Machines are better than us?" Bang.... Phoosssh... Bang Bang... Hartaaaal!!!!
Even in ISI, if ever mess accounting was SERIOUSLY proposed, then - "Bills Dikhaao Mutton Pakaao".... "Mess Committee Choro Aaj Choro Aaj"... "Khana Kal Nahi Banege, Nahe Banega".... "Aloo Hardin Haaye Haaye".... "Kaali Daaal Kaun Khaaye".... "Shubhchintak ko Maara Jaaye"...
Ooooooooof!!!! The fear of tomorrow's hunger fills me with rubbish writing. Shubhchintak you stole my thunder, you stole my breakfast..... I curse you with a spendthrift bad-culinary-talented spouse!!!!!
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