The Landslides of Garhwal

It seems that mountains of Garhwal have a distinctive revulsion for the rains as the downpour often turns them into monsters that ravage roads, wipe out houses and kill the passerby. My first trip to the Himalayas was marred by the series of landslides, but the journey was harrowing, yet fulfilling, as I could feel both the fury of the hills and the tender touch of the people, who live on it.

I was deputed to cover a butter festival at Dayara Bhugyal, a high altitude meadow located further up from Uttarkashi. Even though I left Delhi on 15th August- two days before the festival an entire day was wasted in Dehradun. No driver was willing to drive in the rains and the officials were clueless about the condition of the road. On 16th I decided to move on and the scenic drive from Dehradun to Rishikesh seemed like giving consent to my decision. I thought the panorama was just a glimpse of what was coming ahead. Within a couple of hours I was proved wrong.

The road carved in the hills between Rishikesh and Chamba was higher than the clouds and the green mountains were decked out with myriad streams of milky white water. In that heavenly drive I had the first encounter with the mountain’s wrath. The four landslides between Rishikesh and Chamba prolonged the 60 km journey into a seven hours and I got skeptical about the next 95 kms from Chamba to Uttarkashi. We were forced to stay at Chamba as there was another landslide in the outskirts of the town.

Next day we waited for hours to discover that only a handful of Border Road Organization (BRO) and PWD’s employees work beyond the office hours. Interestingly the state government officials blame the central government as the border road doesn’t come under the state’s purview. I learned the first rule of the hills- people suffer while the buck is passed. A person coming from the opposite direction told us about a bigger landslide few meters ahead of the bend. I was shocked to see that the entire road had vanished. It looked as if the mountain has swallowed the road. Knowing the official pace of work I decided to leave the Jeep and move ahead.

After walking for a kilometer found a bus on the other side of the landslide and like everyone else I was also hoping that it will take us to the next one and likewise we will keep getting vehicles at every landslide spot. The bus stopped after 3-4 kms as stones were falling on the road. We crossed two villages, Klaith and Ratnotalla and from there the road was stained by the debris falling from the mountains. No vehicle could go for more than a few kilometers. We were about 15-20 kms before Kamand and walking was the only feasible way to cover the distance. I was confused whether to carry on or return back to Chamba. But like the others I was also hopeful that the ordeal will get over if I walk with them to Kamand.

On our way we crossed two major landslides where the entire road had fallen in the canyon. The landslide was active, rocks were falling and one had to run in the mud to cross it. Perhaps natural disasters force deeper bonding in human beings and I also experienced that. Starting from a group of migrant workers from Bihar, the list of my companions included a chef in Seattle, a recently married army man, an elderly electricity board employee and three young men from Uttarkashi, all hell-bent to walk. 

Few kilometers before Kamand we took a shortcut by walking down a field and then climbing the hills. Even though I had the lightest backpack but I the climb was too steep for me. I completed it in several breaks and joined the others who, even though were carrying heavy suitcases and bags but were in much better condition than me.

Kamand was far and we stopped at a small shop to buy some water and biscuits. Two army men and three trekkers from Hyderabad were already relaxing there. I had realized that I could not reach the festival but I had no courage to walk back to Chamba all alone. Being in the group was physically taxing but still safer. The new group started walking towards Chham, the next town. Just before the town we got a Jeep and the driver promised to drop us few kilometers before Chinyalisaur, the next town from where vehicles were going towards Uttarkashi.  The jeep could barely cross Chaam as the rocks started falling again. We could have stayed at Chaam but many of my companions were traveling for days and were desperate to reach their home. We decided to walk and that patch was perhaps the worst hit and the most active. It was dark and one can hear the sound of stones rolling down the hills. 

They were exchanging their luggage so that a single person is not burdened with the heaviest load. I could see the pain but I was ashamed of myself as unlike the people of the hills helping others was beyond my physical ability. It was scary to walk through the swamp and the remains of the road which was narrow and muddy. But there was no option as the stones were falling continuously. We were dragging ourselves towards Chinyalisaur. The houses were twinkling like stars studded in the hills. After reaching the town I had no strength even to eat or change my muddy cloths. I pushed some food and I don’t remember when I slept.

They checked out early and paid my bills too. The hotel owner got some tea and advised me to leave because the landslides were continuous and might get stranded in Chinyalisaur for more days. I literally dragged myself to the taxi stand and managed to get a shared taxi which took me to Uttarkashi. Although I didn’t have enough cash and the ATMs were not working but reaching Uttarkashi was a relief.

I saw the control room of the district’s disaster management unit. The official bluntly told me that every tourist has left while all roads are blocked. I am still trying to figure out how? The district magistrate also had a similar reply. Outside his office people were protesting against the alleged manhandling of journalists by goons of pilot baba. Enraged by the reporting on baba’s illegal encroachment of land in the banks of Bhagirathi the goons warned them not to write anything against the holy man. The DM refused to take action against the baba and by now I realized that in India’s last district things are left to be settled on their own while the official machinery is just ceremonial.

The authorities from Dehradoon were yet to reach Uttarkashi, the minister of disaster management was clueless about the scale of damage and the chief minister had announced that the state machinery has left no stone unturned. One can however see that the stones were rolling on their own while the government was busy in issuing statements from Dehradun. 

Fortunately, I found an ATM there. But after waiting two hours, I discovered to my horror that it wasn’t working. Lost and despairing, I roamed the market. A biker stopped and seeing my muddy clothes asked if I needed help. I recounted my story and my dire financial position. He took me to his nephew’s hotel and asked him to take care of me. It was my birthday and as I spoke to the biker. He invited me to his house to celebrate it. For the next four days, I got a taste of the generosity and simplicity of the hill people as they hosted me, either at their house or at the hotel. The bill came to Rs 2,700, but I could only pay Rs 1,500 as that’s all I had. They accepted this with humility and even packed millet parantha and pickle for my onward journey. 

Delhi beckoned, and badly. It was nine days that I had been out for a journey that was to last two days. And when I reached home, the Butter Festival was the last thing on my mind.

Some Random Shots 

A trip to McCluskieganj

From the bustling ‘mulk’ of the Anglo Indians, to monsoon retreat of Calcutta bhadra-manoos, a maoist sanctuary thereafter and today a hostel township, McCluskieganj's history is as deciduous as the sal forests surrounding it. Although Chotta London managed to survive these decades of turbulence and restoration, it is giving up now. On a visit to this place one can see how half of its terrain is taken over by the jungle while modern constructions are popping up on the other. It gives a feeling that soon it will be no different from other tiny dots scattered on the tribal hinterland of Jharkhand.

Noel Gordon couldn’t bury the grin underneath his wrinkles when he talks about his childhood and teenaged years. He unceasingly talks about Mr Kline’s fascination for motorcycle, Mr Mendis’ big game hunting, Mr Booth’s 150 acre plantation and Mr Cameroon’s departure and the stories of his longing to return. “The gunj, if not more developed than Ranchi, was famous for its exotic market,” tells Gordon. “People used to come to buy Chinese silk, latest gramophone records and even Champaign,” he adds.

The Gordon’s live near the half-asleep railway station whose eternal isolation makes even the shrill whistles of the passing trains sound as gratifying as a distant serenade. In the past the station was an eyewitness to an important chapter of Anglo Indian history. In the chaotic 30s when the independence movement was at its peak, trains stopped to bring the children of the Raj from all parts of the country to their only homeland. The crumbling walls and the locked doors of the bungalows dotted scattered around the station have concealed the story of the desperate attempt to create identity for the Anglo Indians, by creating an exclusive address for the community.

These people of mixed ancestry were considered half-caste ‘Chee-Chee’ by the British, while the Indians doubted their loyalty. Apart from the social acceptance, there was an ingrained economic fear as the independence would end the protected jobs. The community, traditionally had reservation in railways, police, posts, telegraph and customs and it was now supposed to compete directly with the others. At that time several pamphlets were circulated to discuss the identity crisis as well as future in India. Mr Gordon inherited some of them. One of which discusses the domiciling of the community in India dubbing them as the youngest people of the great Indian civilization. It suggests them to retain their identities and language like the other regional communities of the country. But for all that an exclusive Anglo Indian territory was necessary, which in the coming years was supposed to become their only home.   

According to Alison Blunt’s monograph, from the Royal Geographical Society’s collection on human and physical geography these pamphlets had a significant impact in creating a general conviction that self help agricultural settlements was the only way to survive and retain their identity. Across India various attempts were made to establish Anglo Indian agricultural townships agricultural. The ganj spreading over ten thousand acres was the largest of them.

Established in 1933 by the Colonization Society of India (CSI), the land was leased by Ernest Timothy McCluskie from a local zamindar of Ranchi.  Although its founder, who was a land and house agent from Calcutta visited the settlement only once and died two years after its formation, the gunj prospered. By the 1940s about 300 families inhabited it. “My father’s was from Madras and mother from Shillong,” murmurs a thoughtful Kitty Memsaab. They wanted to create England in India and hence built their houses like the colonial bungalows as it is illustrated in CSI’s monthly journals. 

“Things did not happen the way they were perceived”, explains DeRozario, the ex Anglo Indian MLA of undivided Bihar. The confusion about future panicked them and many simply locked their houses and left for Britain. For the remaining, several of whom had bought the plots by their provident fund; life was difficult once the money was finished. “The urban dwelling community was not carved for agriculture and hence their exodus was imminent” he concluded. Mr Gordan points out that the Second World War resulted in a shortage of manpower in Britain and hence for Anglo Indians migration became easier. “It continued till the 1990s. The theatre, the gunj’s last icon was closed in 72 or may be 73, but who keeps track of time when sustenance becomes questionable,” he quipped.

By the 1990s the gunj was reduced to a ghost town and the Maoists fearlessly prowled around it. Kitty Memsaab, sitting at the railway station with a basket of fruit became the symbol of the gunj’s distraught condition. “Mr DeRozario, whose wife grew up here gave a new lease of life to the place by opening a school,” says Herald Mendis who came back to his home after retiring from the nearby colliery. “It was a hapless situation then, but the school and then the opportunity to open hostels has revived the economy,” he spoke softly. Today there are over 30 hostels and a little less than 2000 students. For the remaining Anglo Indian families the good days are finally back, but this time at the cost of the gunj. With the new constructions, the town will lose its exclusivity. “Eric Oliver, who had left for Australia came back in 2010 but was disgusted by new constructions and he returned back,” recounts Mendis. “The government has done nothing to preserve our culture,” he sighs. 

Day two- The day of nightmares

Today is my Second consecutive dry day. Well I have read a lot about withdrawal symptoms of sudden break in alcohol consumption. I had nightmares and sleep was difficult last night. I am feeling a bit feverish and mild back pain. I am in bad shape and people in office were asking what has gone wrong with me.  Have difficulty in concentrating and i am supposed to write a heavy duty story. But there is a feeling of lightness and I was hungrier today. I hope it continues.I am going home on 14th.

The Alcohol Blues

Before reaching the verge of complete collapse or may be the stage from which certain things in life will become irreversible, we all reach a juncture where one strong decision might avert a foreseen disaster.   I think, now it’s my turn take that strong decision.

On August five I will complete a decade in the city. The urge to write this blog at three on a Monday morning is triggered by a brutal realisation on Sunday afternoon.   

The sound of pouring rain woke me up at 1:30 pm on Sunday morning. Although I was sleeping on the same bed where I used to sleep 7 years ago but certainly I was not the same person. From a young man in his early twenties, with dreams to make it big I am a man approaching his thirties and completely disgusted with himself.

On Saturday our hostel had organised an alumni meet and we were all allowed to spend a night and sleep in our old rooms. Like always it was a great party and like always alcohol was not enough for me. After the dinner was over and the bar was closed my usual urge of drinking more made me ask my friends to drive to the nearby Jhuggi clusters. In Delhi these are the only places where one can find booze once the shops are closed. Well, four of us went out to get the stuff. As usual no one else was interested in drinking and everyone wanted to spend most of the available time in hostel. I was the only one who wanted to drink more. I got a half whiskey bottle finished it sitting on the hostel entrance and again had the desire to drink more. My helpless friends once again went out with me to get the booze. I bought another half and this time we went to the lawns. The dawn was breaking and there were others around. We sat with a group of seniors and I started drinking my stuff. Before the whiskey was over we became quite friendly. One of seniors who recently made a film was talking about his experiences. He got more stuff from his room. It was full daylight and I was still drinking. Everyone left at around 7:30-8 and we also pushed off for my room. After that I forgot everything.

I woke up at 1:30 pm on Sunday and I was all alone because unlike me the others were in their senses. My friends were kind enough to get my helmet from one of their cars and put it on the table. My wallet, specs, cell phone everything was neatly put in the drawer. There were two missed calls; both home. I called back and my mom picked the phone telling me that i called them at 4 am and i was not making sense and they were generally worried. I don’t remember calling them. I was feeling disgusted.  My head was heavy and I could still sense the intoxication. Naturally I was not in position to drive 30 kms to reach my room.  I called a friend who lives nearby and went out in the rains to reach his place. Soaked in rain I dropped down on the floor and fell asleep. I got up at 7:30-8 and I was dismayed by my behaviour.

Came back to my room and I was thinking about these seven years. Of course I might not have reached the moon but whatever i was, now i could sense that I am falling to the nadir. I am just going down, down and down. I have no ambitions and i am not committed to my work.  Everyday I reach office 2-3 hours late. My boss doesn’t say anything but I guess there is a limit to everything.  I don’t know how alcohol became so important that now my life just revolves around it. The only thing I sincerely do is drink. Don’t know what is killing me.  Is it my break ups or the non achievements of my own goals, whatever it is, it’s enough now and I want to quit. I have messed up my finances. Even with a considerably decent earning I could not afford a good lifestyle as the majority of my salary goes to the booze shops.   I have only one jeans a pair of shirts and I don’t have money to spend on cloths, good food, books, movies or other things. I have not invested anywhere so far. My work gives me sufficient growth options but I am simply not willing to utilise it because for me drinking is more important. Alcohol is the binding force for most of my friendships.  Now I just have a handful of non alcoholic friends.  I have decided not to drink from today. Take a long break and then bring drinking to social drinker level. Will also cut down on smoking. I am smoking about 30 cigarettes a day which i want to reduce. Wish me luck.

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All my bags were packed, I was ready to go, all set to start the longest journey of my life. Ranchi's drowsy and usually deserted station seemed awake. Many other packed bags and young warriors of life were standing like rockets on the launch pad ,parents ready with torches to set the tale ablaze and make the rocket fly. Do and don'ts coming from all direction, making cacophony of interference patterns. The heart thumping sound of train horn dominated them all, it seemed like a trumpet of freedom , here comes my liberator, I am going to break free, the reins of my life's horse suddenly seemed to come in my hand. Paid holidays were just going to start. I embraced my childhood friend Rajiv and he concluded the short meeting by saying' Never forget, every Indian, including me and you have double standard' This man is a genius, thinking of his last words I entered the train . Well it was a lesson for me, if you really want to mark your footprints on someone's thought process say some strange quote, which even you find difficult to understand, and your footprints get cemented, even the number of your shoe will be visible. Sitting in a train destinated to Delhi, I started my journey with dreams and desires and my father's cash to make them real.I set my foot on old Delhi Railway Station. It was the year of my lord, 2001. The air had fragrance of freedom. One of my school senior was standing on the platform, of course, to receive me. </div><div>Coming out of the station, first thing I did was to buy a packet of cigarette. I blew all the Do and Don'ts with the puff of my fag. First time in my life I really understood the importance of celebrating 15th August . Freedom is something like an inbuilt feeling, it unceasingly makes you happy, a cigarette in your hand and you cant stop the waves of smiles deforming your face. Too much of anything is bad, thinking this I stooped smiling.They say life is in the fast lane in Delhi. For me the traffic seemed like the painted ship of the Ancient mariner, stagnant in the painted sea. Dam it, will the auto move, I felt like shouting.. Entering my friend's room in a place called Mukerjee Nagar , I suddenly felt that something is missing, what was that was a headache to find , but still I felt something was missing in the room.' God, don’t you have a window or ventilator''Long back they vanished with the dinosaur, with this rent you only get a room, which is just a room, idiot , Delhi have much more to offer than a well ventilated room , you small town chaps, you guys are never going to change'This guy was my next door neighbor in Ranchi , one year changed quite a lot of him, winds of changes in Delhi seems to blow as fast as the tornados of pacific.
Admission process started from the next day. I was lucky, got admission in a college . Were to live now, was a million dollar question. I was a bit too late, all places were preoccupied , students from all over this country come one month before admission process and start living here , nice way of adaptation, winds blow fast here, you need time to adjust . Only place left was Patel chest, right in the heart of the university.Christian colony seemed to me like a scene from a Rickey Martin's video. Fans moving that slow that it gives impression that they are taking their last breath, everyone is standing in their balcony (that was strange, sight of a girl in that area was the rarest of the rare case, anyway, who cares. The wall paints and plasters were just ready to jump on me and commit suicide. You cant see the colour of the wall(no body gives a dam to get them painted, students can live anywere, dam you delhi landlords ( they are worse than the feudal ones), anway the only thing you will find on the walls are posters. Walking on those narrow streets you get the feeling of closeness, you will brush with the other passer by, those twists and turns will make u feel like Keanu Reeves in Matrix. It was the love at first sight, between me and the place. Well I am normal , Love is platonic, and after all I have to spend three years over here. Nobody knows you, still you don’t feel lonely, what a nice feeling, this place have all the moves and shakes of students life, but ventilators, a hard fact, I quite adjusted with.
College started, people say they are the best days of one's life. I started having the feel good factor. ' My best was yet to come'. Well I am a graduate now , I am still feeling good............. best yet to come. This university is like a cheap whiskey, you are in and you are high, you are out you have hangover, I dont know when I will come out of it.</div><div>'Delhi girls are easy' were the words of Rajiv."You get down on the station and you will have that license to kill' My license seemed like coming from Jharkhand, postal delays were destroying the better half of my graduation, Rajiv, bloody you could have couriered it to me. I have to wait for a long time........well to start the kill..............</div><div>Now the question was how to set a girl.Some guys are lucky , they come on this earth with their destiny written by Chitragupta himself, and that also by may be marker or sthing.Whenever we use to see a pair, a famous underwear add punch line used to strike all of us' Mujhse bhadake usme hai kya … Dang Dang Dang' </div><div>NO ding dong this is the time of fang shui (fire and water together),Ying and yang (black and white),and beautiful lass with ugly male, Chinese culture intruding with the cheap Chinese electronic goods. </div><div>This govt is inefficient, how can I have a girlfriend in these circumstances. Sometimes I have a secret feeling that ISI must also be having a hand in it, your country's govt is inefficient and a neighboring state is after u, success becomes raretst of rare case now.
Against all these odds , the cupid struck one day. Yes, I got a date. Suddenly you start feeling that man you really have something in you. You are suddenly important in your circle. ' Girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend' guys I hate this cheap word, bloody cant you people ever understand that we are just good friends, you people will never understand that there can be some other relation as well. I felt always explaining these things to my friends. Suddenly I found myself mature enough to understand relationship. Still five days were remaining for my first date. A girl can change the hell out of you.Yes this was my first love .Finally the auspicious day arrived. I cant believe myself I was sitting besides her ,well of course not with her hand in mine, but that day will also come, I was confident. She was carefully examining the menu, these girls are really sophisticated, and kind of specific about their choices, they choose the best out of the restaurant menu and pick the best out of the boys, thank you girlfriend for picking me. hay girlfriend my life would have been meaningless without you. Hay girlfriend i am in love with you....i kept on thanking her. ........</div><div>I gave a glance to all the sitters by, well it was a glare of arrogance." Hay ppl do you have this girl with you, she is mine, just watch our happy life and feel jealous, nd get lost....... coming back to my girlfriends, face. I said in my heart do u know girlfriend, you are special.
My first date. I was thinking, what will come out of it, will it be a good night or a good morning, well you never know exactly. Idiot, have patience, try to show you are quite normal to these type of situations. Time is less you have to impress the girl. I said strange quotes, which even I don’t understand. I talked about everything, kind of projected myself like a superman, even he would have started thinking about his resignation after listening to me.My friends were right, these girls are foolish creatures, you can fool them quite easily. And here comes the bill, 400.. a bit too much, but what did it meant before your first date, it only meant more debt.'If debt is less than 200 its your other wise its your dad's, thank you dad , books are realy costly now a days, inflation you know.'</div><div>Coming back to the date she said 'Good bye, see you later', I heard 'get lost I don’t want to see you again'. you keep on wondering what went wrong, but questions of this life are like examination papers, kitna bhi padh lo, you cant answer all of them.
You lost the girl ,you lost your money and then you realized that your college friends are more important than these silly girls, Only a boy can be a boys best friend, Bonds don’t have a girlfriend, I repeat bonds dont have a girlfriend'. With boys its always celebration , no compulsion to bath daily, no expense on deodorants and no extra top up to your mobile phone, life is smooth .I suddenly discovered my new passion for music. Those seductive lyrics of Pink Floyd , Bob marleys Rastafarianism . life will have no meaning without those Bruce sprinsteen inspirational lyrics, you really starts repenting for not being born in the USA, John Denevers leaving on a jet plane, nd u remember her, Eric Clapton's cocaine is always ready to take away your pain . Billy Joels she is always a woman to me gives me her memories, you took my heart, you took my money but the memories will remain you cant steal them., I felt like telling these things to her. Anyway who cares.
What else do you want from your graduation, booze, cigarettes, music and one broken heart for sale. Doing all these things time passed like anything, three years passed like three months, they were right life is quite fast , out here in Delhi. Finally I graduated with hons. in Physics. Again the headache grabbed me , something is missing , what is that, well like the missing ventilator in my friends room ,physics was missing from my graduation, I am a graduate with physics hons, from delhi university…………. does it make any difference. I am standing were I was three years back……still feeling good.</div>

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Winters are romantic, not for me. I feel they have developed a serious dislike for me, well ,tit for tat, i also dont like them either .beat the cold by cocktail of vodka and rum.Celebrated my failure in cat and called great names to my bank, basterds blocked my card so i had to go to vasant vihar to collect the new one. spent three years in a college called Hindu, happens to be in delhi university, my first question was where is vashant Vihar, all Hinduites have problem with location ,m just a part of this glorious tradition. i had been to Priya quite often but never figured it is in Vashant Vihar, but i had to go anyway. after vodka shots and 'another brick in the wall", how could they write such great songs, any way i decided to sleep early n do my works early, so that i could study for IIFT, went to sleep.Why in the hell do the birds sing, idiot creatures they don't drink in night so cant understand what is a hangover was woken up by the ripples of bird songs very early in the morning, another tactics of winter, i guess, trying to so me its strength. i said ok beat the cold by coffee and cigarette ,i won again .at around 10:30 i called good names to my cook, bastard whenever i need him, he is late, blame it all to winters, nobody wants to leave bed early, after all he is also a human being.Abused my bank again ,went out for my mission Vashant Vihar. reached Khalsa stop at around 11.hostel has paralyzed me, spent three years in Hindu college hostel most of us have problem with location .i know i have to take a Mudrika ,but from which side, was a million dollar question. saw a pretty girl standing near me asked about Mudrika, well she was pretty n intelligent , beauty with brain.. so i got my answer. we had to wait for the same bus so started chit chatting, quite normal at Delhi stops. my goodness she was beautiful, hay so man stories starts start at bus stops. i said sorry to my bank...KEEP ON BLOCKING MY CARD EVERYDAY so that i could meet her daily. asked her name. Priya was the answer. A movie was just going to start. She was a pass out from Ramjas .She asked my native place, i said Ranchi, she was from Bokaro, it struck ,my god this beautiful lady is from the same state. THANK U ,BLOCK MY ATM,BLOCK MY ACCOUNT, i could have given anything for that meeting.I don't believe in love at first sight, but who m i to believe and not believe, its an axiom ,no need to prove its truth. its a natural phenomena and the law of thermodynamics says the entropy increases for a spontaneous process. i felt excited my entropy has increased and the process was spontaneous. both physics and my heart agreed. ok it can be love at first sight. so i m in love. my fair lady was doing mass com from IIMC .she said that she can even try to get my stories published .oh she is so helpful. Paulo Coaloh was right the universe conspires for your success .well it has conspired and we met.anyway Mudrika came we got inside ,she got a ladies seat, i had to stand. one bastard was sitting besides her,i will crush u sonavabitch , but i was help less, cant do anything. i said i m unlucky she said yes u are damn unlucky. was she trying to say i m Santiago of the old man and the sea, no he was the unluckiest, she said because she was concerned. means its a positive sign. we have a common taste she also liked photography, does it mean we are made for each other .so many common things: same university, same state, same year of passing, taste for photography, definitely we are made for each other .i told her that i could help her in getting internship in NDTV. so i will also get down at Lajpatnagar and i will call a friend, more time to spend with her.we got down at lajpat nagar.i asked whether i could smoke a cig. she said she may also share. my god she smokes as well. again common ,i m damn sure we r made for each other. ok i went to a shop and ordered wills navy cut "made for each other" .i should have guessed how can a pretty girl smoke that cig .she smokes Marlboro, different brand. ok people start with it and navy cut is the ultimate end.We reached out for a phone a friend, she said why are u wasting your time. but i had a different point of view, if this is called wasting of time then i could waist my whole life for you.Called up my friend, but my friends have never been useful, no exception this time as well, blame it all to winters, it must be having a hand in it. i offered her cold drink, blame it again to winters ,may be she could have accepted it in summer. She said she was in hurry could read her eyes that she was irritated by me, may b i was quite fast. But what can I do. I had no choice, I felt like talking more but she was not interested.anyway it was over. she gave me her id so that i could mail her my stories. went out for my operation Vashant Vihar. came back but i cant forget her. so i mailed her, knowing this could even break any further contacts, but i had no choice, after all it was my first love, and they say everything is fair in love and war. at least i want to meet her once more, and there was no other possibility my atm was renewed for 2007 so i had to wait for 3 years to meet her again at the same stop, but this way i could meet her this week only. anyway crossed my fingers and mailed her.waited for her reply. well it came who said i m santiago met a girl three days earlier and i have got a mail. obvious answer to my generous mail, i guessed i should have known it, quite obvious fate of the relationships starting in buses. she said sorry i cant meet u:i have got no time: do mail me your stories: i will try to publish them, by and take care its to cold out here.6 sentences ended everything .well her way to say no.yes i have average looks, how can i expect a reply from a girl like she, blame it all to winters again. washed my sorrow with vodka and neil diamond, the old man sings like a country singer ,but i like him. life came to its usual pace randomness decreased, thermodynamics’ does not applies in real life. that was a mistake. tomorrow is another day, no regrets but no more girls now. i will study for iift...these things keep coming in my mind i hv to fill mbe form ,i hate mbe. why it is in south campus, one more day will b wasted. anyway i had to go. reached the same stop. oh everything have your memories, at least we could have met once more . anyway mudrika came, this time i hv to go to opposite side, no more talking to strangers. god plz send her once more.. plz god plz.i entered mudrika gave a glance ,i know i could not find her now. anyway got a seat this time, and i decided that i will never fall in love again. the person sharing my seat asked where is dhaulakuan, i turned to answer, OH MY GOD THIS GIRL IS BEAUTIFUL. quite a lot relationship starts in buses.....thank u mbe for being in south campus</div></div>

import 2

All my bags were packed, I was ready to go, all set to start the longest journey of my life. Ranchi's drowsy and usually deserted station seemed awake. Many other packed bags and young warriors of life were standing like rockets on the launch pad ,parents ready with torches to set the tale ablaze and make the rocket fly. Do and don'ts coming from all direction, making cacophony of interference patterns. The heart thumping sound of train horn dominated them all, it seemed like a trumpet of freedom , here comes my liberator, I am going to break free, the reins of my life's horse suddenly seemed to come in my hand. Paid holidays were just going to start. I embraced my childhood friend Rajiv and he concluded the short meeting by saying' Never forget, every Indian, including me and you have double standard' This man is a genius, thinking of his last words I entered the train . Well it was a lesson for me, if you really want to mark your footprints on someone's thought process say some strange quote, which even you find difficult to understand, and your footprints get cemented, even the number of your shoe will be visible. Sitting in a train destinated to Delhi, I started my journey with dreams and desires and my father's cash to make them real.I set my foot on old Delhi Railway Station. It was the year of my lord, 2001. The air had fragrance of freedom. One of my school senior was standing on the platform, of course, to receive me. </div><div>Coming out of the station, first thing I did was to buy a packet of cigarette. I blew all the Do and Don'ts with the puff of my fag. First time in my life I really understood the importance of celebrating 15th August . Freedom is something like an inbuilt feeling, it unceasingly makes you happy, a cigarette in your hand and you cant stop the waves of smiles deforming your face. Too much of anything is bad, thinking this I stooped smiling.They say life is in the fast lane in Delhi. For me the traffic seemed like the painted ship of the Ancient mariner, stagnant in the painted sea. Dam it, will the auto move, I felt like shouting.. Entering my friend's room in a place called Mukerjee Nagar , I suddenly felt that something is missing, what was that was a headache to find , but still I felt something was missing in the room.' God, don’t you have a window or ventilator''Long back they vanished with the dinosaur, with this rent you only get a room, which is just a room, idiot , Delhi have much more to offer than a well ventilated room , you small town chaps, you guys are never going to change'This guy was my next door neighbor in Ranchi , one year changed quite a lot of him, winds of changes in Delhi seems to blow as fast as the tornados of pacific.
Admission process started from the next day. I was lucky, got admission in a college . Were to live now, was a million dollar question. I was a bit too late, all places were preoccupied , students from all over this country come one month before admission process and start living here , nice way of adaptation, winds blow fast here, you need time to adjust . Only place left was Patel chest, right in the heart of the university.Christian colony seemed to me like a scene from a Rickey Martin's video. Fans moving that slow that it gives impression that they are taking their last breath, everyone is standing in their balcony (that was strange, sight of a girl in that area was the rarest of the rare case, anyway, who cares. The wall paints and plasters were just ready to jump on me and commit suicide. You cant see the colour of the wall(no body gives a dam to get them painted, students can live anywere, dam you delhi landlords ( they are worse than the feudal ones), anway the only thing you will find on the walls are posters. Walking on those narrow streets you get the feeling of closeness, you will brush with the other passer by, those twists and turns will make u feel like Keanu Reeves in Matrix. It was the love at first sight, between me and the place. Well I am normal , Love is platonic, and after all I have to spend three years over here. Nobody knows you, still you don’t feel lonely, what a nice feeling, this place have all the moves and shakes of students life, but ventilators, a hard fact, I quite adjusted with.
College started, people say they are the best days of one's life. I started having the feel good factor. ' My best was yet to come'. Well I am a graduate now , I am still feeling good............. best yet to come. This university is like a cheap whiskey, you are in and you are high, you are out you have hangover, I dont know when I will come out of it.</div><div>'Delhi girls are easy' were the words of Rajiv."You get down on the station and you will have that license to kill' My license seemed like coming from Jharkhand, postal delays were destroying the better half of my graduation, Rajiv, bloody you could have couriered it to me. I have to wait for a long time........well to start the kill..............</div><div>Now the question was how to set a girl.Some guys are lucky , they come on this earth with their destiny written by Chitragupta himself, and that also by may be marker or sthing.Whenever we use to see a pair, a famous underwear add punch line used to strike all of us' Mujhse bhadake usme hai kya … Dang Dang Dang' </div><div>NO ding dong this is the time of fang shui (fire and water together),Ying and yang (black and white),and beautiful lass with ugly male, Chinese culture intruding with the cheap Chinese electronic goods. </div><div>This govt is inefficient, how can I have a girlfriend in these circumstances. Sometimes I have a secret feeling that ISI must also be having a hand in it, your country's govt is inefficient and a neighboring state is after u, success becomes raretst of rare case now.
Against all these odds , the cupid struck one day. Yes, I got a date. Suddenly you start feeling that man you really have something in you. You are suddenly important in your circle. ' Girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend' guys I hate this cheap word, bloody cant you people ever understand that we are just good friends, you people will never understand that there can be some other relation as well. I felt always explaining these things to my friends. Suddenly I found myself mature enough to understand relationship. Still five days were remaining for my first date. A girl can change the hell out of you.Yes this was my first love .Finally the auspicious day arrived. I cant believe myself I was sitting besides her ,well of course not with her hand in mine, but that day will also come, I was confident. She was carefully examining the menu, these girls are really sophisticated, and kind of specific about their choices, they choose the best out of the restaurant menu and pick the best out of the boys, thank you girlfriend for picking me. hay girlfriend my life would have been meaningless without you. Hay girlfriend i am in love with you....i kept on thanking her. ........</div><div>I gave a glance to all the sitters by, well it was a glare of arrogance." Hay ppl do you have this girl with you, she is mine, just watch our happy life and feel jealous, nd get lost....... coming back to my girlfriends, face. I said in my heart do u know girlfriend, you are special.
My first date. I was thinking, what will come out of it, will it be a good night or a good morning, well you never know exactly. Idiot, have patience, try to show you are quite normal to these type of situations. Time is less you have to impress the girl. I said strange quotes, which even I don’t understand. I talked about everything, kind of projected myself like a superman, even he would have started thinking about his resignation after listening to me.My friends were right, these girls are foolish creatures, you can fool them quite easily. And here comes the bill, 400.. a bit too much, but what did it meant before your first date, it only meant more debt.'If debt is less than 200 its your other wise its your dad's, thank you dad , books are realy costly now a days, inflation you know.'</div><div>Coming back to the date she said 'Good bye, see you later', I heard 'get lost I don’t want to see you again'. you keep on wondering what went wrong, but questions of this life are like examination papers, kitna bhi padh lo, you cant answer all of them.
You lost the girl ,you lost your money and then you realized that your college friends are more important than these silly girls, Only a boy can be a boys best friend, Bonds don’t have a girlfriend, I repeat bonds dont have a girlfriend'. With boys its always celebration , no compulsion to bath daily, no expense on deodorants and no extra top up to your mobile phone, life is smooth .I suddenly discovered my new passion for music. Those seductive lyrics of Pink Floyd , Bob marleys Rastafarianism . life will have no meaning without those Bruce sprinsteen inspirational lyrics, you really starts repenting for not being born in the USA, John Denevers leaving on a jet plane, nd u remember her, Eric Clapton's cocaine is always ready to take away your pain . Billy Joels she is always a woman to me gives me her memories, you took my heart, you took my money but the memories will remain you cant steal them., I felt like telling these things to her. Anyway who cares.
What else do you want from your graduation, booze, cigarettes, music and one broken heart for sale. Doing all these things time passed like anything, three years passed like three months, they were right life is quite fast , out here in Delhi. Finally I graduated with hons. in Physics. Again the headache grabbed me , something is missing , what is that, well like the missing ventilator in my friends room ,physics was missing from my graduation, I am a graduate with physics hons, from delhi university…………. does it make any difference. I am standing were I was three years back……still feeling good.</div>

Imports from old blog-1

Life is a roller coaster, spending years after years in Delhi, you see few ups and lot of downs, u feel stuck, u feel like running away. Escaping to haridwar spending some time near Ganges, sipping beer on the banks (its illegal in haridwar, so if you really wana run better run more northwards), friends playing guitar, a self created fire burning slowly, struggling for its life, and you stand up like Chuck Noland and scream, I CREATED THE FIRE…….., Sitting on the sand, thinking of some maryen or sitting in a coffee house gulping espresso shots, watching chicks, just doing nothing …….or in a rainy day sitting in a bus, deliberately missing your stop just to see where is her house, then trying to find her father’s surname in the telephone directory, to give her blank calls, Some carefree moments., , like Ghalib once said, and well Gulzar sahab recreated it for Mausam.dil dhoondta hai fir wahi fursat ke raat dinbaithe rahe tasavoor ye jaana kiye hue
But those raat din usually never came. Since the time we become mature, we think only this year…..I screwed up badly, next year will be fine. And more repetitions, something like a monotonous function, in the hope that one fine day the sun will rise from west and things will start working for me. But that never happened………it’s a glorous waste of time, its running away like an ostrich, hiding face in the sand thinking that the enemy will never find it, but the enemy is within.

Waiting for someone or something to show you the way</div>
<div>And then one day you find ten years have got behind you</div>
<div>No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
The time is gone, the song is over……………..

Well said Roger, sometimes you feel like catching the time, holding it lightly in your hand, and never let it go. If it tries to escape, kick it hard, kill it and say yes I killed the time, just throw anything that reminds you of time as far as you can. You have to spend those carefree moments, the moments, which you will miss afterwards. Walking in the rain, soaking your shoes, getting wet, trying to protect your cell phone, and missing bus after bus. Walking down the street meeting old friends at chai wala stall. Sitting endlessly from dusk to dawn, sipping tea after tea, remembering those melodious memories.

Call me the carefree kind</div>
<div>I wander with the breeze</div>
<div>My mind and heart's at ease</div>
<div>Doing what pleases me best
Long as I keep happy I can't lose</div>
<div>Till I find my place there's no doubt</div>
<div>I'll be a rovin' roustabout……………..</div></div>

Break-up Blues

It was eight and the alarm started buzzing. He had a binge sitting previous night. He unfastened his eyelashes and thumped the chronometer and started staring at the fan, just above his head, the fan was moving since March, and it was September. A lot has happened in these 6 months. Life has altered from top to bottom. Now he has a job and they were paying him quite decently. Money has changed hands. The cycle of affluence and bankruptcy has taken a couple of full rounds. His big network of friends has shrunk to a handful acquaintance. He has survived a break off. He was special for someone in March but he is a villain for that person now. In March India and Pakistan were both eliminated from the first round of world cup. Country went on a crisis over the nuclear deal. UNO declared this year’s flood as the worst in living memories. He was thinking about her while making tea, how he once said that he makes fabulous tea, and one day he will make tea for her, but that one day never came. So many promises just met premature deaths. There was so much to do, but nothing was done. Instead they had fights and arguments, nothing really to remember but harsh feelings. He started from his place to be lonely in a crowded bus, then reach office full of people and sit alone on his desk. But now it is September. The hot sun has started fading. Yesterday both India and Pakistan qualified for the next round of 20-20-world cup. The fan will get rest after a month. Floodwaters have started receding. The nuclear deal crisis might also get resolved. And his girlfriend got a new caring boyfriend, who probably keeps her happy. Times have changed.