Nostalgia and a Slap in the face

As in sat in a daze, my mind far too tired to think and my body aching from the long sojourn, I felt a grinding sensation and a sudden feeling as if all had stopped. My 30 hour journey from the "Burgh" to "Home" had finally ended. After the 6 hour halt in the fish market I like to call Bahrain, I felt an overwhelming flood of emotion and love pace through me. Love for a city which had given me 7 of my best years and emotion for the tirade of familiar faces I was to come across. I was finally in the land of Dairy Milks and Vada Paavs, of Paan-Walaas and Ayub's Rolls. Not to be distraught by the goof up by Gulf Air in delivering our bags on two different carriers, I bid my fellow travelers adieu with promises to meet in January and proceeded to the money exchange counter at the airport, eager to get my 980 odd rupees for the crisp 20 dollar note in my hand and ferry a taxi home. Maybe I shouldn't be shocked, but it definitely was a taste of things to come when he gave me Rs 850, quoting a mind numbing 42.5 dollar-rupee exchange. And here I was thinking, hey Rs 50, maybe my buck is worth something here! Promising to report this gross violation of monetary policy to every authority from the airport manager to the finance minister, I got in my cab and set out on my 45 minute trip home.

To tell you the truth, it felt good. That smell of Mumbai, the sight of people on their way to work at 7 in the morning, that never dying spirit came back to me in a flash. And then there was the ever present smog which hovered over my city, something people had to battle with everyday. No it didn't irritate me, but it made me wonder, where we were headed. All these promises of a Shanghai and a Singapore and we were still left with half dug up flyovers and nasty spine jerking potholes. As the taxi drove past Siddhivinayak in Dadar, I felt a surge of devotion. The numerous hours spent on Tuesdays, in line with other devotees, eager to pay their respect to this holiest of gods, beginner of all things pure. And I promise you, the police embankments and heavy artillery on display around the temple did little to squelch my desire to return to those blessed steps. The taxi took a turn into the under-belly of Dadar. As if by magic I was in Prabhadevi, an area close to Dadar station. And as we drove past the Sinhals and Vidyalankars of the area, I felt nostalgia hit me harder. I reminisced the countless hours I spent in those very classes, after goofing off semesters worth of college. The early morning 7 o'clock batch, the mind numbing 6 hour mechanics lectures and oh the day long last minute revision classes. And then I saw him, the sandwich walaa, who had hordes of students flocking to him during those precious 15 minute breaks. I can swear me and my friends must have put his children through school with all the toast sandwich we relished and shared. And the sabzi mandi which co-habited the area was rife with the smell of fresh veggies and nose stinging chilies. I remembered the rains, and walking through the mush, jeans rolled up, balancing self and bag against every tokri walaa occupying the road. I'd never dream of doing it again, but then again, I'd never change that experience for the world.

As we passed Breach Candy, the smell and taste of delicious Amarson's Right Place sandwiches inundated my senses. The many sandwiches I shared with my Mom and brother reminded me of what’s best about this city. A mish mash of various disparate individuals, held together by this cheese of live, and squashed together by these loaves we call the fast times of Mumbai. Add a little chutney and sauce and you have the quintessential Mumbaikar. About 15 minutes from my final destination, I reached Chowpatty and the beautiful and elegant queen's necklace which, thanks to the time of day was not glowing resplendent in its usual golden shimmer. Marine drive was our regular hook-up point. I can remember countless times that me and many of my closest friends have walked down and talked and dreamt of not only better times, but enjoyed each others company thinking of the memories. Lying down on the parapet and staring into the sky, enjoying the cool breeze, discussing what future had in store for us, it was all like a dream. And now everyone was away, in different countries and lands, some busy with work and some with life and I thought, when would we have those days again, if ever. And I promised to myself that I'd be back, if only alone, as a testament to the good times, no, as a testament to the great times. And as the cab took a turn onto Madame Cama road, and we drove past the Mantralay, I felt a pit like feeling at the bottom of my stomach. This time the memories that streamed past were not pleasant. Living with grand parents and being 14-21 years of age, I had many an encounter with the bureau-crazy oops bureaucracy we read about in news paper reports and hear about from friends and family. From ration card offices to IT offices, from corrupt high court lawyers to Mumbai University peons, I had dealt with them all. Call me a hypocrite for using them when I had the need and cursing them now, but the experience was anything but pleasant. I remember sitting, waiting for the B.E.S.T. section manager for 6 hours, missing work and finally realizing I had to do it all again the next day. Again I ask, where is this country headed. But let's leave all that for another post, I promise to talk about in the weeks to come.

And then my cab pulled into the lane beneath my building. But lo and behold, it was blocked. The recent terror attacks had left the city reeling and as an aftermath, President Hotel, which also shared the lane beneath my building, was closed for spot checks. Not that I was complaining. Better late then never they always say. As my taxi cab pulled into the building and I lugged my suitcases towards the lift, I looked forward to noticing the familiar face of Raju the liftman who had greeted me every morning, or rather afternoon, on my way to college. But I was met with some other non-descript face, who gave me the regular salaam and here I was, hoping for a handshake, maybe even a hug. I consoled myself blaming the new management and tried to forget. And as my Dadi opened my front door and as I touched her feet and hugged her frail body, my fatigue seemed to disappear and after staying up for 4 nights straight, I could easily go another 4. After being pampered, fed with dream like Kanjiwadas (A Marwari delicacy) and running hither and thither for that evasive American to Indian pin converter, wear got the better of me and I crashed on my familiar bed, dreaming away of friends and love and of the so very clichéd, better times. :)

Fast forward to 30 hours hence and I left for the airport in yet another taxi, a good 5 hours before my 10 pm flight. And then it happened. Maybe I should've expected it, heck I should've probably even been used to it. But the 3 hours it took for me to travel those 15 kilometers seemed like an eternity. The stop-go traffic, the smoke and grit, the endless vendors selling items as varied as miniature Santa Clauses to the common man's mungfali, it all reflected the various faces of Mumbai. The posh BMWs and Mercedes and the much maligned auto-rickshaw walaas blasting away their Himesh wannabe tape decks, we were all stuck in it together. Traffic signals and road lanes were long forgotten. Bike-walaas careening through every nook and cranny were far ahead of the pack, while I sat and envied them, hoping I wouldn't miss my non-refundable, very expensive flight to my second home. All the while, I had my laptop open, going over some last minute schoolwork, trying to finish up for a deadline which was fast approaching. The fact it was an Acer which heated up nicely for a city as cold as Pittsburgh, didn't help in the heat of this Mumbai taxi. Somehow, and I commend the taxi-driver for this, we too careened and swiveled and danced with the other cars to eventually get to Mumbai Airport which as much else in Mumbai, was in a state of disarray from all the perpetual renovation and general chaos surrounding the area.

Enter CSIA (Chattrapati Shivaji International Airport for the non-Mumbaikars) and I was amazed. It looked like any other major international airport. The renovation was on in full swing but it actually looked like people cared. It looked professional even bordered on posh. But that’s where it stopped, the looks. The administration and actual people working there reeked of the typical government type stench. Maybe it was the crazy renovation in process or maybe it was just my 3 hour long cab drive that tainted my outlook. Maybe they were actually trying. After 4 security checks which seemed a bit much and utterly chaotic, I entered the very nicely done departure lounge. Every major eatery from Pizza Hut and KFC to CCD was to be found. To my misfortune, I chanced to ask the price of a slice of Pizza. Again I shouldn't have been shocked by the Rs 100 price tag I was quoted. Suppressing feelings I'd rather not discuss here, I boarded the plane. The silliest part was actually having my boarding card checked 5 times, for 5 different things, by 5 different people, all one after the other. I understand security but that’s plain crazy!

An interesting 2.5 hours and lovely Kadhai Paneer later, I landed in Seeb International Airport, Muscat. My second home as I've told many. Meeting my parents and hugging them harder than Giant Sequoia tree huggers, for the second time in less than 48 hours, I felt that similar sensation of coming home. Home to a place where you were loved and cared for. Home to a place you could identify with things familiar and old. Home where towels were automatically hung and food was placed magically on the table. The next 3 weeks were to be special, 21 days of lying back, relaxing, not worrying about running around meeting people or shopping frantically. My own little paradise.

And as I close, I'm reminded of Joe Crocker’s famous Beatles cover, from the Wonder Years. Many of us have grown up singing along as Kevin Arnold experienced the best and worst times of his life and looked onwards to promises of a better future and of better times and I can all but reflect and look back on my own journey and then look forward to what lies ahead....

What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song
And I'll try not to sing out of key.

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends
Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

The Defamation of Love....And Back....

The rain was beating down against the window. The gloomy loom of street lamps, on much too early this late in fall, spread their darkness on this already down-trodden evening. The day was, well, confusing. It had been a confusing week to say the least. Mind you it was fun, what with all the home cooked food, back to back Indy Jones movies and oh, my all time favorite second installment of Half Life to keep me company. But something still confused me. I kept thinking, why is everything so convoluted, so esoteric. Why can't it be as simple as 2+2? Why can't everyone just act on instinct and well just "do it"!! Some mood I was in. And my limo was stuck in some random side street in the middle of Chicago where we'd moved 2 inches in the last 20 minutes. To make matters worse, I was supposed to attend this "Meet-N-Greet" session in some trendy Italian bistro. All fake smiles and faker laughs, tasteless food and drone-like conversations. My second most favorite author, Michael Crichton (May his soul rest in peace) had succumbed to cancer earlier in the day. I'd spent my best years growing up, reading his books, from Timeline to Prey. They held a special, significant place in my heart. Boy was this shaping up to be a truly swell day. And that nagging confusion....It’s difficult even writing down how I felt....

And then it happened. It was as if some divine power had struck down with a hammer and shocked me right out of it. An old couple, octogenarians perhaps, were walking down the road, huddled against the wind, hand in hand, as if one. No matter the rain, no matter the gust, they walked together, as if one soul on the path of life. As if by magic, yeah I know it sounds clichéd, Sinatra's "Strangers in the Night" started playing soothingly in my ear. And it all made sense. It was like ice cold water being splashed in my face. Here I was, in a stretch limo, in one of the most romantic and beautiful cities in the world and I was cribbing!!!! The dusk sky mingled with the refreshing rain gave it an aural, almost surreal feel. The hustle and bustle of a busy city, people returning home, lovers walking hand in hand, children skipping toward the nearest park, Oh! What had changed in the last 5 minutes? Everywhere I looked, it filled me up with hope, for after all, it does spring eternal. The traffic mattered no more, for I was lost in some dreamlike state, thinking of what life had in store.

People say loves over-rated. There's no such thing as love at first sight. That you just live life, if it will happen it will. I don't speak from much experience, but who are these people kidding. Have they never felt the sun's rays in the morning, heard birds chirp in green glades, felt the rain drench their souls with desire and the smell of wet earth shroud them like a mother smothers her child with love. Have they never loved or been loved, or are they just blind cynics who burdened by everyday life have given up on something so pure and beautiful. They say love makes the world go round, but I say hey, even if it makes you wake up each morning wanting to live and wanting to jump and scream and shout, then it's worth loving. And even if it doesn't work out, which I hope never happens, you can smile at the fact that you know how it makes you feel. Higher than the noon sun, faster than the evening gale, shining brighter than the moonlit night. And you are complete.

Nancy and Frank were now serenading "Something Stupid" and I was bowled over. The night pretty much took an upturn from that point on. The dinner wasn't half bad, the conversation actually interesting once it moved past the point of being awkward, and the Italian Tiramisu simply divine. A night time walk in a beautiful chilly Chicago night and I was made.

And as I sit here sipping my coffee, you may ask why this tirade all of a sudden. What's changed? I know not, and I am now more confused than I was before. But now I know what it feels like. And I'll fight to keep that feeling alive. You can't just lay back hoping things will chance to happen. You have to make them happen and only then have you truly loved and only then will it truly matter. Would I be so lucky as to have someone walking with me in my older years, huddled against the wind, hand in hand, as if one soul on the path to life? Maybe I will, maybe I won't. But will I give in....never....for I know now, what love is....

Morning

As the clock strikes 6 in the calm cool air
I am the only soul awake in my lair
While most are asleep, dreaming away, comatose
This sonnet, I sit here, compose
Not many a time like this I see
for, getting up so early, to me don't come naturally.

As the night turns to day and everything becomes bright
More than meets the eye, comes into sight
The haunted hunch which with fright made me freeze
turns into an oak rustling in the breeze
Its leaves all but gone, its skin so bare
its stories of harsh winters it dies to share.

And some crazy joggers on the road I see
wearing clothes which can only be fit for a flea
No concern of the cold do they take
For them personal fitness takes the cake.
And there goes the trash truck, making oh! so much noise
but hey its better than those rag picking boys

The 71A past my window goes
In two hours, this bus I take to class to doze
And I see a delivery truck pull into the store across the road
bringing bread and bagels to help morning people bode
Early risers for work will soon leave
their frozen car engines will have them peeved

And Oh! now it's snowing, it's all so sudden
but hey my heats broke and this room boils like an oven
Soon there'll be a sheet of white on the ground
And I'll be slipping and sliding and falling in a mound
My jacket I've forgotten in some far of land
Oh how I wish now for some desert sand

And once again I come to the end of my prose
You can now feel happy if I made you morose
The days just beginning and im full of life
Not sleeping all night will leave me in great strife
Breakfast and a bath is on the books for me
It can only be the morning that makes me go weeeee :)

Time of My Life

Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Star ship Enterprise once said,

"Time is a companion that goes with us on a journey. It reminds
us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again.
What we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived."

The last 5 months have been nothing short of a 'Star Trek';in the truest sense; a journey which certainly I, had not undertaken before. The surge of emotions I have experienced in this short duration have surpassed the insignificant threshold I had thought myself capable of, making me a better person, a stronger person. This literal rollercoaster has shown me life with generous dollops of love, friendship, fatigue, determination, abandonment, a phoenician like rebirth and an endless plethora of mental states. As many who know me will attest, I don't regret any one of these, as only one who fails knows the true meaning of success.

My departure from Mumbai, a city which gave me 7 years of probably the best times of my life, was numbing. When I touched my parents feet at Mumbai Airport, as I took my first step into the world all alone, I didn't quite understand the implications, the meaning behind it all. But now, as I look back at the people and memories I have left behind, it overwhelms me, makes me remember those that were dear to me. I thank you, not for the awesome fun we had, nor for the food on the table when I came home each night or the nights you spent up, taking care of me when I was sick. But for making me what I am today. Be it helping me ride my first bicycle or prepping me up when I was depressed, Mom, Dad and friends, I thank you all. You form an inseparable part of me, one I wouldn't trade or change for anything in the world.

The story of my trip across some 5 seas was extremely eventful, one past its time and probably suited for another post, God knows when :). And then came America. It was all a bit much, this big country, this crazy schedule, this weird place where left is right and right is left. But I adjusted quickly, maybe quicker than most, owing thankfully, to great friends and supportive peers. I thank you as well, the last five months have been a blast and I truly appreciate it.

Pittsburgh as a city is beautiful. Right from the breathtaking view from Mount Washington of the towering skyscrapers of downtown, standing across the Ohio river, to the stadiums of sports fans galore, tailgating their teams to hearts content and the delicious fare common only to this bustling metropolis. Originally a dirty city owing to the magnitude of steel plants in the vicinity, Pittsburghers have done an awesome job "redding" up this town. The sky is probably the most beautiful, with elegant cloud formations during the day and a starlit ceiling at night. And the image of the Cathedral of Learning rising to the heavens against the backdrop of a setting sun is simply spectacular, one mere words fail to describe.

Carnegie Mellon has probably been one of the best decisions of my life. It has exposed me not only to professors who are wizards in their chosen feilds, but people who have now formed an intrinsic part of my life. We eat together, play together and spend sleepless nights pouring over assignments and projects. I know these people will think I'm crazy for saying this, but again, I wouldn't change these memories for the world.

As for love, well thats a topic better left for another post, heck another blog. :)

And now the apologies. People back home, I know I haven't written or called or im'ed or......As you may have understandably guessed, I owe it mainly to my extreme laziness, something which afflicts me on an almost daily basis. My new years resolution is to stay in touch with everyone, but hey! last year I promised to lose weight and we all know how that turned out :).

As I come to the end of this post, written by a hand with only a rudimentary command of the english language, I thank you for bearing with me so far. The ride has just begun. :).

In the words of Annie Dillard,

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."

Thanks for the great days, for I've had a great life.

I Think I'd Like That

As I sit here in the darkness
My mind adrift in the universe of my thoughts
I think of the joy of life
Sharing your heart with love rife
I see things around me which only love can explain
And I say to myself, I think I'd like that.

When you know you love someone
It's often at first glance
You can feel it in your veins
You can see without sight
Your mind soars to the depths of the deep and it feels right, you know not how
And I say to myself, I think I'd like that.

And then you want to see them, be it day or night
You writhe restless in agony till of them you catch sight
Your anxious heart hopes the next call is from them
You hope for that one precious IM
For you never knew love could be so cruel, one so true
And I say to myself, I think I'd like that.

It's the small things which often tell
Nuances which reveal the outcome of such a spell
You want to buy them things, cute puppies or teddys they may be
Or simple tulips, for all the world to see
And when she smiles, you think all time has stopped
And I say to myself, I think I'd like that.

It is true love when you fight over the smallest of things
And then when she takes you back, your heart almost springs
Making her breakfast in bed, and a candle light dinner
Treat her like the princess she is for, not being true, you remain a sinner
And you spend a fortune buying her purses and shoes
And I say to myself, I think I'd like that.

And then you grow old, and you look back
And you smile at the years gone by in a crack
You're glad she was with you, every moment, every day
Not saying you love her every minute, always on your heart does weigh
And your breaths draw weaker, as you fade hand in hand
And I say to myself, I think I'd like that.