You've got mail...

"Didi, come here...See this...You've got mail!"
Mamma walked in with an envelope in her hands which was addressed to me.It was a letter from a girl in Coorg. She had found my address in Tinkle, a children's magazine which I used to read voraciously & also contribute sometimes & now she wanted to be my pen-friend. Her letter seemed pretty interesting. She had written about herself, her hobbies, things she likes doing, the kind of person she is. She was studying in class tenth at a boarding school inMadikeri . Two years senior to me, I was studying in the eighth then. I did not know what pen-pals were. The entire idea of writing letters to some stranger & making friendship sounded bizarre to me. But my parents were quite excited for me. They thought I should reply to this girl & accept her friendship. "You'll get a chance to know a different culture. Trust me, it will be fun!" were their words. So I thought of giving it a try.

I still remember, my first letter to my newly found pen-friend was a very precise letter, nothing too elaborate, unlike hers. I was a very shy kid in my growing up days & that probably explains the reason for my behaviour. It was hardly a week since I had posted my reply to her & I got another letter from her. This time, it was about her life in hostel, living with room-mates & all the fun they would have. I enjoyed reading her letters as time passed by & it didn't take much time for me until I got very fond of this new friend of mine, someone whom I had never seen or met. The friendship bond grew. We used to write to each other about every small thing in our lives. I would wait eagerly for the postman everyday to check if I had a mail from her. After a few months, we exchanged photographs of each other and we would always make plans of meeting up some day, but that never happened. Both of us got busy in our academics.

2001:
She finished her 12th from Coorg & joined a Dental College in Mangalore. I took up Engineering in Goa itself. We had managed to keep in touch through all these years. But professional courses were very demanding. Classes, Practicals, Assignments took most of our times & the regular letters became 'not so regular'. We had just entered the new millennium & everyone was smitten by the dot com revolution. We graduated from hand-written letters to computerized emails! No worries of lost letters. No headaches of buying stamps, envelopes, stationary. No need to drop the letters in the post-office. Email was quick & free. Just press the Send button & your mail delivery is done! For the first few months, we both very eagerly sent emails to each other. But after some time, we realized that emails missed the personal 'touch' that hand-written letters carried with them. When I would read a letter from her in her very own hand-writing, I would feel as if she was talking to me in person. Unfortunately,a type-written email could not match up to it. Since the emails were so quick in delivery, there would be nothing left to discuss & it eventually started getting boring. We did not even realize when the emails suddenly stopped. "We are busy in our personal lives", that was our excuse.

2003:
I had just finished my 3rd year of engineering. We were exhausted after answering the tough exams & we badly needed a break. The college authorities never took any responsibilities of organizing tours or outings. One of our batch mates suggested the idea of a short out-station trip. I was excited the moment I heard the idea. I was always excited at every idea of an outing. But the headcount of interested folks revealed only 9 takers. That was a little disappointing turnover but we still decided to go ahead with the original plan. Now the discussions began about the place to visit. We needed a place,not too far from Goa coz we just had 5 days to wind up the tour. I don't remember who suggested Coorg & Coorg it was, unanimously everyone Else's decision too. The thought of my pen-friend crossed my mind but then it had been quite some time since we had written to each other so I discarded even the slight chances of us meeting up. I started packing for my trip.

An overnight bus journey to Mangalore & a local bus ride of five hours from there & we were in the most beautiful district of Karnataka-Kodagu. We were going to stay at Madikeri. We checked into our hotels, freshened up & did not realize when the day was almost over. Some of us had gathered in a room trying to chalk out the plan for the next few days. I did not have any particular thing to do. I was just loitering around in the hotel lobby, enjoying the cool breeze. Just then, my pen-pal's thought crossed my mind. "I am inCoorg , her hometown. I should try to at least contact her." But I did not have her contact number, nor her postal address. Just then, my eyes went on the telephone directory kept at the reception counter. I tried to recollect the address one last time. All I could remember was her father's name & her city- 'Ponnampet- South Coorg'. I started looking in to the Ponnampet Telephone Exchange. To my good fortune, there was only one person by that name. I hurriedly noted down the telephone number. There was a sudden excitement within me. I was finally going to hear her voice, after all these years. I rushed to the PCO, dialed in the number.

Tring...Tring...Tring...
"Hello?"
"Hello,could I speak to ...?"
"Who is this?"
"This is Devaki, her pen-friend..." My voice was trembling.
A long silence...
"Dishu, is it really you? Oh my God! I can't believe this. Where are you? Ma, pa, see who's on the line...u remember I used to have a pen-friend.... "
We were both too excited to talk. We had shared so many things during all our growing years, our letters always carried so much in them. But now during this phone conversation, we were suddenly out of words!

"I want to meet you, dear. Tell me when can I see you."
She told me she was practicing in a clinic in Ponnampet & the only chance to meet her was to go to Ponnampet. Madikeri was too far for her to travel all the way. She could only do it over the weekend but we wouldn't be there till then. I promised I would definitely make a trip to her home. At that point of time, I did not know how I was going to do it but all I knew was that, I was not going to leaveCoorg without meeting my pen-friend.

I rushed to meet my other tour-mates. I had to some how work this out. By the time I reached their room, they had already chalked out the entire tour plan. We were supposed to hire a Sumo which was going to take us around. To modify an already made itinerary was tough but I somehow still managed to convince them that we will go toPonnampet to meet my friend on one of the days.

Finally the day dawned. We covered the site-seeing spots as per our schedule and we finally headed towards our final destination for the evening. Even though our driver was alocalite , finding the place was not so easy. We had to stop at several occasions, asking for directions because the house was located in a very remote location. Looking at our desperate plight, she sent her father to a nearby shop which was on the main road. When we reached there, we found him waiting cheerfully for us. He jumped into our car & from there, gave our driver the right directions to their home.

I still remember. I was sitting in the back seat. We stopped our Sumo in front of the house. Someone opened the back door for us to get out and there she was, standing with her sister and mother, smiling continuously as she looked at me. As I approached her, I was greeted with a big, warm hug. We were both jumping out of joy. I literally had tears in my eyes. I was meeting this girl for the first time in my life, but it felt like I knew her all my life!

Her entire family welcomed us into their sweet little home. I had read about the Kodagu hospitality, but today I was actually experiencing it. There was an entire table laid down with ice-creams, local sweets, soft-drinks & what not. We didn't know where to begin. She led us towards the seating area in the house & her mother brought her sister's wedding album.Coorgie weddings are world famous, for their traditions & customs. We were especially fascinated by the way all the women draped their Saree's. The mother & daughters sensed our curiosity, they spoke something in their language & led us towards the bedroom. There, her mother opened the cupboard & took out four rich Saree's, along with the matching accessories, one for each one of us. The three of them helped us dress into those Saree's, theCoorgie way. All of us looked so pretty and we couldn't stop taking pictures.It was amazing! Time just flew by and before we realized, it was time to leave.

With a heavy heart, I bid a warm goodbye to my pen-friend and to her lovely family and hopped back into the Sumo. These simple people, had touched my heart in a very special way and had made this trip so memorable for all of us!

The Conquest

When Mamma showed me the ad in "The Navhind Times" , I laughed it off. I badly needed a change of jobs but what she was pointing to, was something I had never thought I would do, even in the wildest of my dreams! She kept persuading me to at least appear for the interview. I ignored her. But my mother is a very persistent woman and she doesn't give up that easily. On the day of the interview, she some how managed to convince me to take a half day leave from office & she forcibly drove me to the venue. Sitting in the front seat, looking at the road, I was still wondering what I was doing. We reached the venue. Everyone around me was busy reciting last minute notes, flipping through some fat textbooks & here I was with NO reference books; holding an old copy of my resume which I had managed to locate at the last minute. I laughed at my own plight coz I got the exact picture of what was going to happen to me in the interview room in a few minutes.

My name was called. I got up & walked to the interview room with confidence coz I knew I had nothing to lose , nothing to gain. Luckily. the interview went well. I managed to answer most of the questions put forth to me. Mamma was happy to hear that but I told her not to keep high hopes coz I knew I had no chance. After the interview, I felt a little bad had I prepared well, I could have got this job but then another part of me said " Oh come on. This job is not meant for you! There's no point in even repenting!".

Two days later, I got a call -"You have been selected for the position of Lecturer in IT Dept. When would you like to join? "

For a moment, I was dumbstruck! I was excited that I'd got this job when I least expected to but on the other side, it suddenly dawned on me what this job would mean. I was going as a lecturer at an Engineering College in which I studied a few years back! A class of 60 curious heads, who is ever ready to pounce on you, the moment you make a small mistake. I remembered the rowdy guys from our class & how they used to make fun of young female lecturers. Did I really want to go through all this embarrassment? I didn't even look like a lecturer, 90% of my students would be much taller than me. How was I even going to engage them for a one hour class? I was getting butterflies in my tummy. As always, Mamma came to my rescue. Being a teacher herself, she told me how lively & satisfying this profession was & since everyone on my maternal side was in the teaching profession, how destined I was to get this job! I thought for a while & finally decided to give it a shot. My life was anyways getting pretty boring with a monotonous job which I was not at all enjoying, so why not try something exciting, I thought. I called up the college authorities & accepted the offer. At that point , little did I know there was still a battle to be fought ahead & this was just the tip of the iceberg!

I joined college on a Monday. It was nostalgic. Lecturers who had taught me as a student, were my colleagues now & I was to share the same staff room with them. The semester had already begun. I was given "Programming in C", a common subject for the first years across all branches. The parting lecturer told me to go well prepared for my classes, as the students were very smart. I always believed that in teaching, the first impression is usually the last impression. I didn't want to make a fool of myself. I had gone unprepared for the interview & had managed to get this job by fluke or maybe due to my destiny as Mamma liked to believe it,but now I was not going to repeat the same story.I decided to pick up all the possible books on C programming I could find in the library & to immerse myself in the subject for at least one week until I face the class. Unfortunately to my bad luck, the Head of the Department announced to me that I was supposed to take my first class on the coming Wednesday, that meant in two days. Now this was the last thing I wanted. I tried convincing him but he wouldn't listen. The sessionals were approaching real fast & I had to cover up the portion. And as if to make matters even worse, I was going to teach 'pointers in C' in my first class.

For my readers from non-computer science background, pointers is a concept in C programming, that I don't know how many of the Computer Science fraternity have truly understood till date. It wont be an exaggeration if I call it the 'Bermuda triangle' of the programming world! A programmer can forever get tangled in them! When experienced professors struggle trying to teach this concept, could you even imagine my plight? I cursed my fate. But soon realized there was even no time to brood about it. I had anyways taken this up as a challenge, so why back out now. The preparations for the first lecture of my life began in full swing. Had I prepared this way for my Engineering exams, I think I would have probably topped the University with record marks.

Finally, the big day dawned. This was going to be either the most special day of my life or the most embarrassing! A few chalks & a duster in one hand, attendance sheet, textbook, notes, OHP transparencies in the other, I was ready to face my battle! The class was rather noisy, the previous lecturer had left the class a few minutes before the actual scheduled time. I walked in straight to the class & climbed the platform.The voices lowered & there were whispers. "Hey, is she a new student?"."No, I think she is a substitute for an off lecture." "Wow, lets convince her & we'll play antakshari in this off lecture." Five minutes & everyone had settled down, I took over.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm your new lecturer for C programming." The voices started again, this time louder. I saw curious pairs of eyes, checking me out. There were others doubting my ability. A long pause & I started off. I have a very loud voice. So even though it works against me in most situations, it was working in my favour this time. As a lecturer, you should be able to effectively communicate to the class, so that the student sitting on the last bench can hear & understand you clearly. I'm not too sure about the understanding aspect of this but yeah, I was definitely audible till the last bench. As expected, my students weren't one of those dumb kinds to quietly listen. They had doubts. Some of the smarter ones, who already had prior knowledge of the subject, tried testing my knowledge by asking tricky questions. I tried my best to answer most of the questions put forth to me. After all, it was my first time & I was learning too. And then,no one in this world is perfect to know everything. I promised to come up with answers to the questions I didn't know, by the next class.

Despite all the anxiety I had faced in the past couple of days, I suddenly realized standing up there how enjoyable the whole experience was turning out to be. For someone who had always been a shy kid, to stand up there , facing a crowd of sixty, I felt so liberated! The nodding heads gave me a boost to carry on. I forgot for a moment that I was trying to explain to them a difficult concept. I realized that teaching was like Newton's Third Law of Motion- Every action has an equal & opposite reaction. My own concepts got clear & I understood so much better after I started teaching. Mamma was right. This was indeed a very satisfying & enriching profession! A few illustrations on the blackboard & some more explanation with the help of transparency slides over the Overhead Projector, I didn't quite realize how time flew until I saw a pair of eyes peeping from the classroom window.It was the professor who was supposed to engage the next class. She was already outside the class waiting for me to wind up with my lecture.

A good one hour had passed by & I had not only managed to teach a new concept to a class of Engineering students but had also managed to still keep them glued to their seats. I still cant forget that moment. It was one of the most special moments of my life. I felt the same way as probably Sir Edmund Hillary had felt when he conquered the Everest. Of course I had not conquered a mountain peak like him, but yes, I had definitely conquered the platform ;-)!

The Ladies Seat

Aug 14th 2008
Location: Kempegowda Bus Station aboard KSRTC Airavath (Bangalore to Goa)
Time: About 8 in the evening
Drenched in cold rain water, A trolley bag in right hand & a handbag in the left. Exhausted, tired & on the way to my first journey ALONE to Goa!

“Excuse me, I think you are on the wrong seat. This is a ladies seat!”. A sleepy, drenched man, in his early 30s looks up sheepishly at me from his half-covered blanket.

“No ma’am. You seem to be seriously mistaken. Neither is this a ladies seat, nor am I on the wrong seat!”

“Hey, that can’t be. I ASKED for a ladies seat!” He pointed me towards the conductor.

I stormed towards the front side of the bus. This was my first ever trip to Goa from Bangalore & I was travelling alone ! Since it was a long weekend, the tickets had been very difficult to get & a cousin bro had somehow managed to get me a ticket on this special bus. I’d paid twice the price of the actual ticket to get on this bus. The bus was already late by an hour or so, it’d been raining cats & dogs since the evening & getting to Majestic had been quite an experience in itself & I was too exhausted & angry to tolerate any more crap for the day.

I flashed my ticket to the conductor-“ Mera Ladies seat hain aur ek aadmi wahan pe baitha hain!”.I raised my voice to show my frustration.
”Madam, calm down. We’ll sort the matter.” He assured me. He had one long look at the ticket -“Madam, bus mein ladies seat toh sirf seat no.7 aur 8 hain. Aapka toh general seat hain! Abhi aap jaa ke apne seat mein baith jaaiye. The bus is about to start.”

I was shocked! How could this happen?How the hell was I going to travel to Goa , all alone, sitting next to a stranger, A man????This is NOT happening to me! I had clearly told my cousin that I wanted a ladies seat & only a ladies seat. I'm going to get my seats exchanged. I was so lost in my thinking that I didn't realize when the bus started moving & I got back to the hard reality. A long look around the bus made it clear, getting seats exchanged was going to be out of question. The bus was packed with people. I cursed my fate & slowly walked back to my seat with my luggage. All kinds of thoughts were crossing my mind. I was scared. I promised to myself- I'm going to stay awake all night!

By the time I'd reached my seat, the sleepy, drenched man (my co-passenger) was wide awake & out of his blanket. That's the first time I saw his face properly. He was a guy in his mid thirties. He looked descent but then I didn't want to take any chances with strangers. I was new to the city. It had been barely a month! I didn't know the local language.How can you trust anyone just like that? He gave me a faint smile as I approached my seat. "Hey, I don't mind exchanging the seat if your friend wants to sit next to you.Don't worry & be comfortable!". I didn't smile back.

"I don't have a friend and I guess I have no choice but to sit here!", I said with a frown. I dialed my mom's number & poured out everything to her.She told me to calm down & that everything would be fine. But at that time those words hardly made any difference. I kept the phone & was just trying to settle down when my co-passenger suddenly spoke up again-"Goenkar?". I nodded. "Hanvuy bi ( I too am a Goan)".

Those two words made quite a difference. I gave out a sigh of relief. Thank God, at least he is someone from my hometown, someone who speaks my language. He introduced himself. Goa is a small place & its not too tough to find some common link. His cousin happened to be my senior at college.He started a conversation to break the ice. He was an engineer, working with an MNC in Blore. As our conversation went ahead, I realized that he wasn't all that bad as I'd thought in the first place. I don't know what it was, but it didn't take much time for me to start feeling comfortable in his company & I didn't think twice before discussing some personal things. He loved talking, just like me & we both were engrossed in our talks. I forgot for a moment about the struggle I had to go through to reach the bus-station, the irritating rains which had drenched me & my luggage, the bus which had been an hour late & most important of all, that we were total strangers! We had so many things to discuss like we were some old lost pals who had met after an eternity! The journey was turning out to be fun!

Sixteen hours had passed by just like that and the journey had come to an end.The bus reached Margao bus stop. I got down, we exchanged numbers & promised to call each other up & meet often in Blore but I think we both knew somewhere deep below, that once we'd get busy in our own personal lives, staying in touch would be just impossible. That was the last I saw of him. We did message for a few months, there used to be occasional calls, which reduced with time.

How often do you come across a stranger with whom you share some things, you'd even hesitate to discuss with your friends? When you forget all the rules our elders told us about not talking to strangers.. I didn't sleep the whole night, as I'd thought. Only now, the reason was different. The Ladies Seat had made all the difference!