Open Letter From SN: Laments of an IIT girl

I am from SN, the Hall. And I am here to help.

(Dramatic Pause)

So whats the deal, you say. I'll tell you the deal. The deal is that you are a douche. The deal is that you have no clue in all heavens about me, and you, yes you, are just way too many for anybody's good. And I will today, once and for all, break it down in easy and simple soul-friendly terms in the hope of getting the few of you with brains to atleast understand this... this thing we have between us.

I was a regular girl in school. Had always been, pretty much, though there were things you could say put me away from the other regular girls I knew. And I was happy, pretty much, you know. Life was easy and smooth. Like a nicely flowing river. And then I came to Kgp. (sound of crashing waves and islands sinking)

The first thing I noticed about you, in the first week itself, was that you were mostly a huddle. And that a huddle's voice is lower than the volume of a lone standing specimen. And that that's almost always because, atleast in first year, the huddle is only talking about me, the generalized SNite. In class, in Tikka, Nescafe, lab, even in Toat on SF nights. I mean what is your fixation with me, I'm just a regular girl!

You have eyes, o' boy have you eyes. All of you, collective, are like one big mass with all those innumerous eyes that are always looking, and communicating. And then one day I could see you looking from a distance. You were probably there for a long time, confused. You started walking towards me. I averted my eyes but kept looking angularly. You were approaching fast, but instead of looking at me you were walking as if on a fast-forwarded evening walk in a park, trying to look about casually on both sides and loosening up the walk. You had come close, I was ready to casually turn my head towards you with a casual smile on the face that would say nothing and yet be appropriately inviting. You were looking about more anxiously now, and I don't think you knew that I was watching. All ready for a warm casual conversation with a charming-looking you, I turned my head smoothly to you, you were exactly appropriately close, but still hurried and anxious, and as I noticed, at an angle to your previous direction and still walking. And you kept walking, looking down, as if casually, and walked past me. I was staring at your face and you probably didn't even know. I kept looking intently with wide eyes as you in your nervous hurry, turned an awkward corner somewhere and went away. And I thought, "Whatever man".

It was clear from day one, that even my batchmates were easily 2 or 3 years junior to me. I was more comfortable with your seniors, they talked easy, knew more, and didn't think talking to me casually was a big deal. Or atleast, didn't seem to show it. I was part of a few societies, and I went through the same ordeal a hundred times, of a batchmate trying to strike up a casual conversation. I really don't get why a person has to try to look casual, I mean we're all casual in real life really, aren't we? Apparently not. Real life takes a twisted bend in Kgp.

I loved my Hall. There were these few awesome people I knew and that was enough for me to love it. It was fun, mess table bhaat, secret huddled conversations in packed rooms on matters of no importance whatsoever, bad jokes, Patel bashing, generalising a few people to represent their halls, banda-bandi gossip, hushed slut hating, learning to swear, and the senior guys. The senior guys, the good rare few that is, but in existence very much. They were open, knew stuff, sometimes handsome, sometimes even actually talkable, and mostly bandi-less. Perfect people to casually talk to. And talk I did. The first summer vacations are a wonderful time if you're talking to someone over the phone, very casually only, ofcourse. I mean the actual girlfriend-boyfriend sort of stuff wasn't really for me, if you know what I mean. That's just gossip fun.

The second year started out hectic. I am not a sucker for grades but I, you know, like them in general if I can do something about it. So there was the department, the new people, the irritating batchmates, even weirder dep seniors and ofcourse the few people I was in touch with. OP was fun from this side, not much but whatever. And the gossip! I'll repeat, the gossip! She's going out with him, and he just proposed her, and they're definitely going to break up, though that's not all we talk about, by a long long shot. And then that stupid ridiculous part of the gossip spectrum that actually involved me. I heard of atleast 6 guys who were apparently my boyfriends, and I didn't even know 3 of them, I swear. Then there's the totally-uncalled-for closed room controversial stuff. Things happen, and you take them for what they are. Upsetting, but then... yeah so there are a few catches in Kgp. Fine, move on.

I knew this guy from earlier, I mean I'd seen him around but didn't, you know, really know him or anything. Really nice chap. I mean, really. And we were talking, casually, and I suddenly realised. I hadn't even thought of it you know! How could he, this extremely likeable, actually understanding, seriously decent looking guy, think of us that way! I mean I'm just a regular girl!

Those were happy times. I'm sure I stepped on a few hearts but come on, most of them deserved to be crushed anyway, and the few nice ones, its not like I'm some goddess of some sort, they'll find better ones I'm sure. So I said yes to him, the senior who didn't feel like a senior at all. Happy times. That's all I'll say about it. Happy times.

But it wasn't for long. There was stuff that just wasn't happy as I would have liked. And then ofcourse, Kgp is not the smoothly sailing ship on a mad stormy ocean. Its the ocean. And you're a fish. Things change. People change. But maybe its just that... that fourth year's a bitch.

So it didn't live for very long, whatever it was. I mean I tried, he did too. It just, shit its so cheesy I don't even want to say it, but it just wasn't meant to be. Yeah. And I was alone. You can hardly ever be alone in Kgp, and yet somehow, I was suddenly all alone, in the real sense of the word. So much time with just one person makes you pretty much a custom person. You don't fit the average size anymore. But I had friends. I knew people, I talked to interesting, promising guys. Life tried to fill up again. But nothing ever again will sweep me off my feet I guess. And whatever I do, they just don't gossip like that about me anymore. Sigh.

I noticed you again. You had grown. You were actually different, though I could still see the original nervous, awkward you on a closer look. And you still didn't have a girlfriend. But there was progress. You were more in your element now, as if you were perfecting your act of yourself. You were even talking to girls, casually too I might add. Juniors ofcourse, who would go through the same wave function as I did and so on forever.

I have gone through so much in these last few years that its hard to remember clearly the time before it. So much of life, excitement, and bubble, and then the anticlimax of an absolutely bored final year. Through it all, through all of the tikka and vegies, the chem top and the 2.2, the boredom and the sleep, through cal and shankarpur, and through the Netaji and Kalidas, I lived a full life. And at the end of it, after it was all over and I could look back and wonder, I basically learned just one thing.

That I'm just a regular girl, and you're a douche. I mean, do you even take a bath?

Umbrella Maintenance

Umbrellas are of various colors. For example, Brown, Black, Red, Pink, and Green. An Umbrella may be an open umbrella or a closed umbrella. It has nothing to do with their states of mind. Despite the myths, an Umbrella is not particularly happy when its raining, but definitely and most particularly hates frequent rains, unexpected drains, and miscreant opening and closing. Also, it hates any kind of water touching its insides.

You may notice sometimes that an umbrella may act difficult. Maybe it doesn't open when you just left the shade and entered the rain. Now that is just plain teenage embarrassment. Look about you, is there a flush pink umbrella acting royally indifferent nearby? That is it, the cause of the embarrassment and the failure. There is a time-tested, rather sick, but working solution for this. Just take your umbrella back in, find a dark corner, stroke it appropriately and you will see it rising with flying colors. Now that you have it high and mighty, go ahead, walk into the rain, zoom and flash, and declare that you've arrived. Though not too fast, mind you.

You may also sometimes notice that an umbrella, though its usually considered a good thing under normal circumstances, may act tough and stubborn sometimes. It resists a hurried closing. An umbrella at its flair, showing off in style, is hard to tame and cut back and close, especially if there is audience around, the pink one, that is. The best way to deal with such stubborness and hard-headedness is to give your umbrella a good share of opening everyday, preferably in the rain. And to keep under wraps and covers otherwise, which basically hinders its opportunistic vision and keeps it cool and calm.

After a good long stint in the rain, a wet umbrella may want to drool for a long time, even though it has long since been closed. It is advised to please let it. And then to wipe it dry and cover in the wraps. Read and follow the instructions for a long durable life. Store in a cool and dark place. Keep safe from children.

Lastly, in conclusion, please let your umbrella have a good time, while simultaneously keeping it in check. There are laws in some countries against any deviant behaviour from the standard and accepted umbrella-rain relationships, despite the very natural tendency of an umbrella to playfully strike or rub against another. There may also be restrictions on the usage routine, depending on the laws of the land. Please check the instruction manual, and the constitution of your country, for a longer life. Thank you.

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Just know that I will go

Tilt your stupid head, go ahead
Lie with all your teeth beneath
with upper ones in a smile, puerile
and i won't say a word, my bird

We will, but not for long, get along
One day the shine will exhaust, and lost
One bag will pack, from the empty rack
and i'll then never be seen, my queen

I hope you understand, this rant
Its just that when i'm not near, i fear
that you will look and will be shook
that you, of this future cold, I never told

Mera Pyaara Pink Patel

Manliness is overrated. So is the color pink. And so is the effect of one on the other.

A hall is known by its second years and what it makes of them, rather than the color of its walls. Appearances, as has been proven recurringly since the inception of the Hall, or Time, are deceptive. You may enter a bright white sparkling corridor and think it's a corridor to Heaven, or the insides of the White House, or Anup Bishnoi's Heart, or maybe a wormhole through space. But it could be any of those. You see, a pink Patel is, similarly, a deceptive visual.

A roar in the common room undoubtedly sounds as ferocious still as it did without the sheep thinking of the pink walls outside. It's, you see, just an arbitrary meaningless fact. That the tradition of a most traditional Hall of Residence, though, has been interfered with, is a most inexplicable event. I mean, who really thought of it? And who agreed? And who in heavens did let this mindless blasphemy, totally unimportant and irrelevant though it may be, really happen? Or maybe nobody really had a choice so to speak, this was just destiny waiting to happen, since a long long time.

A Pink Patel is still a Proud Patel. Notice the brilliant, totally inspirational use of apt and awesome alliteration right there. That's the stuff of legendary jingles that motivate a thousand generations. Of patelians. Yo Patel.

You're Free

noir na diva, na meera tila tilas
aamera tila tilasa, viranya tej palas
nadira lavo na nodira, la meera dina-dina
na nadir-manya nohita-sama, na roona tila tilas

The above lines mean you're free. In so many words, they make you believe in your free will. And the context for the said freedom is whatever you want it to be. It doesn't matter where, or when; just know, you're free.

Till the dawn and then till the dusk. Till the farthest world and then till farther still. Till the end of time, and then from start to the end again. This holds. You're free.

For the smallest moment between two others, for the silence in the background that existed forever, for the time that you thought she was yours, for the duration of the fall of earth into the sun. You're free.

When you decided to kill yourself, when you let yourself be led, when you walked as if in sleep, when you were able but not willing. You were, as much as you are now, and as much as you will ever be, free.

Love it or hate it. You did it.