You want to take the left,but it is a path less traversed, it is going to be a very long frustrating ride,everyone warns you but you still want to do it...coz... at the end of the road lies the thing you have always wanted in your life!
You see the majority of the crowd going straight and you want to go straight too coz basically you want to take the safer way out, by aping others. But deep down inside you very well know this path is NOT meant for you!
If you take the right, you will reach the destination quicker. You ask your inner soul...Is this what I truly want? And the answer is....NO!
You are frustrated, confused and desperate.You want to turn and go back to square one and start afresh... but you have already walked so far ahead, it is just too late now.
How many times do we face crossroads like these...when we are just left thinking,which path should we take? Which path would take us through the journey called LIFE and make it the most memorable journey of our lives???
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Har ghar kuch kehta hai...
I have always had a fascination for old things. History used to be my favorite subject in school. My secret ambition was to become an archaeologist. Appreciating ancient architecture still remains a passion. I lose myself completely when I visit an old church or a historical monument. But my all time favorites remain the lovely Goan Catholic ancestral villas which represent a unique blend of the two cultures: the East and the West. The Portuguese left Goa in the 1960s but till date, the 450 years of colonial rule is clearly reflected through these homes. Probably another reason for my affinity towards these ancestral villas is coz I was born and brought up in one of these ancestral homes too.
My home has had a very interesting history. It seems a brother and a sister bought the plots back in the beginning of the 20th century and decided to build two mansions side by side, so they could live next to each other.The brother built our home and the sister built the house next to ours. Technically speaking, the two houses were exact replicas of each other. Due to the colonial rule in Goa,a large number of Goan residents had moved to Portugal in the quest of well-paying jobs. After Goa got liberated and became a part of the Indian Union, these immigrants did not wish to come back. So they started selling off their ancestral properties in Goa. The brother who had built our home was also one of them.His family was to leave Goa and settle in Portugal forever so he put up his house for sale. This was sometime in 1970s when my grand-dad was also looking for a big home to accommodate his large family.He came across this offer and it was too good to let go and that's how the brother's house became our home!
People often wonder, what is it that makes these ancestral Goan villas so unique from the other houses? According to me it is their grandeur-the large French Windows, the tall doors and the high ceiling.As you enter a typical ancestral villa, you are drifted into the past. These villas were built spacious with large halls coz during those days,weddings, ceremonies and other important family gatherings used to be held in the house itself.Even after he bought our home, my grand-dad had to spend considerable time and money in making a lot of modifications to convert some of these dance halls into bedrooms. I still remember the reaction I used to get back in school when any of my classmates would discover about my home.Their eyes would widen with excitement and I would have to answer the same question umpteenth time-"How does it feel to live in such a huge, old house? You are so damn lucky!"
Over the years, as much as we have loved and boasted about our home, there have been others who have appreciated it as much. First there was a professor from Goa College of Architecture who was doing his PhD and his thesis consisted of exploring all the ancestral homes in Borda. Borda is that part of Margao which houses maximum number of Catholic ancestral villas. So naturally, he was at our doorstep , asking us the permission to let him look around and we were most happy to let him in. He came in with his professional cameras, clicking every door frame and window and jotting down the dimensions and other details and all the family members were wondering what he was finding so interesting in those old walls. He later had an exhibition where he showcased all those photographs and we realized how beautiful every frame looked. We remembered the good ol' saying then -Only a connoisseur knows the true taste of his wine!
Another one of our home's admirer had a very strange story. On one lazy Sunday morning, we had a visitor. He was a European man, in his early thirties. He said our home had belonged to his grand-father, that is of course before his grand-father sold it off to my grand-dad and moved forever to Portugal.His father was born in our home and he had spent the first few years of his life in the Borda neighborhood. Now, his father was on the death-bed and as his last wish, he had sent his son to Goa, all the way from Portugal to get pictures and memories of his old home, the church in which he was baptized, the chapel which he visited every Sunday for mass. Our visitor had a small piece of paper, given to him by his ailing dad which had a vague map of our neighborhood, with all the intricate details such as where he could get the best choris-paav (a Catholic delicacy made from Pork sausages) in the area. Mamma and I were a little apprehensive of letting a stranger, that too a foreigner inside our home but I don't know what it was about him, we felt he was genuine and we asked him in.
He was clicking photographs of each and every thing he could see as he walked around. His original family altar was replaced with a mini-temple by my grand-dad to accommodate all our deities. The master bedroom of the house, which used to be his grand-dad's bedroom had become my grand-dad's bedroom and after my grand-dad passed away, I had become its new owner. It is the largest room in the house and also the most beautiful one with 3 doors and 2 huge French windows. During those days, furniture used to be custom made for individual rooms. The original owners of the house had the carpenters build a grand master bed from scratch inside the bedroom itself. The resulting bed became so grand that it couldn't be moved out of the room in one piece when the owners sold the house so my grand-dad had to ultimately buy the house along with this piece of furniture! When we narrated this story to our visitor, he was touched. This was a bed not just passed through the generations of my family but it was passed through the generations of both our families.
We finished touring the house and sat on the couch, he got busy sipping his kokam sarbat, another Goan delicacy he could go back and tell his family in Portugal about. He was extremely happy he had collected enough pictures to make his ailing father happy.It occurred to me then, that the two of us were connected in the strangest possible manner-our house. He was the grand-son of this house just like I was the grand-daughter. A house is not just a bunch of walls with a roof on the top,every house is special and every house has a story to tell. Har ghar kuch kehta hai....
Har ghar chup chaap se yeh kehta hai ki andar usmein kaun rehta hai?
Chhat bataati hai... ...yeh kiska aasmaan hai.
Rang kehte hain kiska yeh jahaan hai.
Kamron mein kiski kalpana jhalakti hai?
Is farsh par nange pair kiske bacche chalte hain?
Kaun chun chunke ise pyaar se sajaata hai?
Kaun is makaan mein apna ghar basaata hai...
Har ghar chup chaap se yeh kehta hai... ki andar usmein kaun rehta hai?
My home has had a very interesting history. It seems a brother and a sister bought the plots back in the beginning of the 20th century and decided to build two mansions side by side, so they could live next to each other.The brother built our home and the sister built the house next to ours. Technically speaking, the two houses were exact replicas of each other. Due to the colonial rule in Goa,a large number of Goan residents had moved to Portugal in the quest of well-paying jobs. After Goa got liberated and became a part of the Indian Union, these immigrants did not wish to come back. So they started selling off their ancestral properties in Goa. The brother who had built our home was also one of them.His family was to leave Goa and settle in Portugal forever so he put up his house for sale. This was sometime in 1970s when my grand-dad was also looking for a big home to accommodate his large family.He came across this offer and it was too good to let go and that's how the brother's house became our home!
People often wonder, what is it that makes these ancestral Goan villas so unique from the other houses? According to me it is their grandeur-the large French Windows, the tall doors and the high ceiling.As you enter a typical ancestral villa, you are drifted into the past. These villas were built spacious with large halls coz during those days,weddings, ceremonies and other important family gatherings used to be held in the house itself.Even after he bought our home, my grand-dad had to spend considerable time and money in making a lot of modifications to convert some of these dance halls into bedrooms. I still remember the reaction I used to get back in school when any of my classmates would discover about my home.Their eyes would widen with excitement and I would have to answer the same question umpteenth time-"How does it feel to live in such a huge, old house? You are so damn lucky!"
Over the years, as much as we have loved and boasted about our home, there have been others who have appreciated it as much. First there was a professor from Goa College of Architecture who was doing his PhD and his thesis consisted of exploring all the ancestral homes in Borda. Borda is that part of Margao which houses maximum number of Catholic ancestral villas. So naturally, he was at our doorstep , asking us the permission to let him look around and we were most happy to let him in. He came in with his professional cameras, clicking every door frame and window and jotting down the dimensions and other details and all the family members were wondering what he was finding so interesting in those old walls. He later had an exhibition where he showcased all those photographs and we realized how beautiful every frame looked. We remembered the good ol' saying then -Only a connoisseur knows the true taste of his wine!
Another one of our home's admirer had a very strange story. On one lazy Sunday morning, we had a visitor. He was a European man, in his early thirties. He said our home had belonged to his grand-father, that is of course before his grand-father sold it off to my grand-dad and moved forever to Portugal.His father was born in our home and he had spent the first few years of his life in the Borda neighborhood. Now, his father was on the death-bed and as his last wish, he had sent his son to Goa, all the way from Portugal to get pictures and memories of his old home, the church in which he was baptized, the chapel which he visited every Sunday for mass. Our visitor had a small piece of paper, given to him by his ailing dad which had a vague map of our neighborhood, with all the intricate details such as where he could get the best choris-paav (a Catholic delicacy made from Pork sausages) in the area. Mamma and I were a little apprehensive of letting a stranger, that too a foreigner inside our home but I don't know what it was about him, we felt he was genuine and we asked him in.
He was clicking photographs of each and every thing he could see as he walked around. His original family altar was replaced with a mini-temple by my grand-dad to accommodate all our deities. The master bedroom of the house, which used to be his grand-dad's bedroom had become my grand-dad's bedroom and after my grand-dad passed away, I had become its new owner. It is the largest room in the house and also the most beautiful one with 3 doors and 2 huge French windows. During those days, furniture used to be custom made for individual rooms. The original owners of the house had the carpenters build a grand master bed from scratch inside the bedroom itself. The resulting bed became so grand that it couldn't be moved out of the room in one piece when the owners sold the house so my grand-dad had to ultimately buy the house along with this piece of furniture! When we narrated this story to our visitor, he was touched. This was a bed not just passed through the generations of my family but it was passed through the generations of both our families.
We finished touring the house and sat on the couch, he got busy sipping his kokam sarbat, another Goan delicacy he could go back and tell his family in Portugal about. He was extremely happy he had collected enough pictures to make his ailing father happy.It occurred to me then, that the two of us were connected in the strangest possible manner-our house. He was the grand-son of this house just like I was the grand-daughter. A house is not just a bunch of walls with a roof on the top,every house is special and every house has a story to tell. Har ghar kuch kehta hai....
Har ghar chup chaap se yeh kehta hai ki andar usmein kaun rehta hai?
Chhat bataati hai... ...yeh kiska aasmaan hai.
Rang kehte hain kiska yeh jahaan hai.
Kamron mein kiski kalpana jhalakti hai?
Is farsh par nange pair kiske bacche chalte hain?
Kaun chun chunke ise pyaar se sajaata hai?
Kaun is makaan mein apna ghar basaata hai...
Har ghar chup chaap se yeh kehta hai... ki andar usmein kaun rehta hai?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Cleaning up my closet
It was one of those lazy Saturday evenings. I didn't have any particular thing to do for the day. After waking up at 11 in the afternoon & having a breakfast at 12:30 followed by lunch at 4pm, you can pretty much imagine how my day was going. It is one of these kind of days when I log in to Orkut. Orkut is a great time pass. You can flip through your friend's photo albums, check out their testimonials & scrapbooks. You don't realize how time flies in doing such completely irrelevant activities but you still enjoy them so much.
Flipping through a friends' profile, I came across a profile of someone whom I knew once upon a time, someone who used to be good friends with me once upon a time, and today when I just fumbled upon this profile in my friend's friend circle, it felt so strange. The distance between us had grown so much that now I was even hesitating to send a friend request! I felt as if a lifetime had passed by & we were complete strangers to each other now.
I was angry with myself. I still missed the beautiful bond I once shared with this person. I do not know what our differences were which got us so apart. But things were ended on such an abrupt note that I realized there was still a part of me which was yearning for that friendship! There was still something that was eating me from within. I wanted to get back and re-live all those memories, leaving aside our individual egos. Someone had to do it. I have always believed that life is too short to waste living with such grudges so I decided to take the first step to sorting things out.
I picked up the phone. Called up the common friend. She herself was surprised to hear from me after such a long time. I had gotten so busy with my life that keeping in touch was a thing of the past. After our initial exchange of "how have you been", "hows work","lets meet up sometime", I finally came to the point.
"Do you have ...'s number or email address?". She was surprised but then she also knew I would not have called her without some motive.
She promptly passed the number to me. I thanked her and hanged up.
I picked up the phone and dialed the number. The phone started ringing and my heart started beating harder with every ring. I was still speculating how this person would reciprocate.What should be my opening line? Would ... recognize my voice after all these years? There were a million questions in my mind and the phone was still ringing.
Tring...Tring....Tring...
"Hey, don't you have office today? Its already 9 am!"
"What are you staring at me for?Get up, you lazy bum!"
I opened my eyes and suddenly realized that the phone wasn't ringing but my alarm clock was.It was 9 am on a Monday morning and I was still in bed and my room-mate was shouting at me from the other end of the room.
Oh Gosh, the whole thing was a dream after all.I was disappointed.
And it just occurred to me that I didn't manage to clean up my closet after all :-(!
I picked up the phone. Called up the common friend. She herself was surprised to hear from me after such a long time. I had gotten so busy with my life that keeping in touch was a thing of the past. After our initial exchange of "how have you been", "hows work","lets meet up sometime", I finally came to the point.
"Do you have ...'s number or email address?". She was surprised but then she also knew I would not have called her without some motive.
She promptly passed the number to me. I thanked her and hanged up.
I picked up the phone and dialed the number. The phone started ringing and my heart started beating harder with every ring. I was still speculating how this person would reciprocate.What should be my opening line? Would ... recognize my voice after all these years? There were a million questions in my mind and the phone was still ringing.
Tring...Tring....Tring...
"Hey, don't you have office today? Its already 9 am!"
"What are you staring at me for?Get up, you lazy bum!"
I opened my eyes and suddenly realized that the phone wasn't ringing but my alarm clock was.It was 9 am on a Monday morning and I was still in bed and my room-mate was shouting at me from the other end of the room.
Oh Gosh, the whole thing was a dream after all.I was disappointed.
And it just occurred to me that I didn't manage to clean up my closet after all :-(!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Nostalgia
I was visiting my alma mater,Manipal Institute of Technology last week for my final MTech presentation.While walking around the campus with my old roomie Nisha,it suddenly dawned on us that these were our last few days here. Two years had just flown by.Technically speaking, I was in Manipal only for a year- my first year of MTech. I got an internship in Bangalore for the second year and had to move out, Nisha stayed back though. But that one year of hostel life at MIT was the most exciting, memorable, enjoyable year of my life and it was as if I had lived an entire lifetime in those two semesters. I promised Nisha then that I was going to pen down a few of these memories for my blog. Coming back to Bangalore, I got busy with my work and today, finally I have managed to find the time to put up this post.So here it goes...this one's for my Alma Mater!
Things I can never forget about Manipal......
Things I can never forget about Manipal......
- B3 Quarters, a home away from home. The staff Quarters converted into a hostel for the Post Graduate Students and the experience of living in it with 5 strangers for an entire semester!
- Room No.307, 4th Block: My home for the second semester and a taste of the 'real' hostel life..All the pains we took to get into it, including a verbal fight with the MIC girls (my debut ;-) )
- The Group Study Hall in the MIT Library, where we watched movies, chatted for hours together, had long discussions, spent more time than in my hostel room and ofcourse, sometimes managed to study too ;-)
- Maddy a.k.a Madhuri-A vegetarian roomie who would freak at every sight of me having chicken in the mess and our vegetarianism v/s non-vegetarianism fights that would go all night in our hostel room.
- Murgi a.k.a Nisha and her strange fascination for sun-rise photography!
- Channveer, my classmate and study pal, who always treated me like I was a guy and taught me how to ride a bike.
- Uma, my old roomie and the only other gal besides me in the class of MTech CSE 2007-09.
- The taste of Maggie cooked with a forbidden Electric Heater in the hostel room in the middle of the night:Noodles never tasted so good!
- The Chicken Kababs from Ashraya Mess...Mmm..I still remember the taste....why would they give only 6 pieces in a plate :-(?
- The Manipal End point: Our own spot for the little trekking adventures
- The adventure trip to the mountains of Kodachadri with Akshay, Channveer and Uma and the bumpiest ride of my life from Kollur to Kodachadri
- The General class train journeys from Manipal to Goa and back and all the interesting experiences I had aboard.
- The juice Centre at MIT Cafeteria and my favourite, the mango milk shake!
- The open book tests in AI: the number of reference books we would carry to class and come out dejected every time coz not a single one would be useful.
- The First semester presentation in the class and how I managed to get an A+ despite all the odds.
- The Second Semester Results and the excitement of becoming a 9 pointer for the first time in my life.
- The sizzling Chocolate Brownie at Saiba and how we would order it just for all the attention we would get when the waiter would arrive with it.
- The pappu from Andhra Mess with the extra ghee
- The last minute preparations for sessionals
- The Swimming sessions at the MIT swimming pool
- Diwali Celebrations at B3
- The Day I cracked VMware Interview
- The birthday Treats at Saiba, Guzzlers,Dullops and Kediyoor
- The Trip to Malpe at the end of semester one with Channveer and Uma
- The screening of RDB at the MIT Quadrangle
- The Manipal Rains and how no umbrella or raincoat could save us from getting wet coz it would rain in all directions :-)
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Law of Garbage Truck
Just a forward that I received a couple of days back. I really liked the moral, hence posting it here.
One day, I hopped into a taxi and took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly, a black car, jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed the brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. I mean, was really friendly.
So I asked, "Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital." This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck' He explained, "Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. NEVER take it personally.
Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on with the routine life." Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home or on the streets.
The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so......love the people who treat you right and pray for the ones who don't!
Life is 10% what you make and 90% how you take..!!!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, February 23, 2009
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 ;-)!
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 ;-)!
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