My first sweater..

The whole fury in the common room got over. People across the country got to a consensus that it’s each and everyone’s responsibility to extend their vacation until Diwali. I was the small town boy not understanding the dynamics that was taking the centre-stage. The mid-sems were causing abnormal bowel movements and cheating in the exams was not a part of the armory then. I was the plumpy 85-kg chap when I joined the institute who reduced to a 72-kg piece of meat over 3 months.

Come Durga Pujo, the vacations started with the most tiresome train journey defying the normal sleeping hours. Back in Chennai, people enquired about my place of study and the second question that followed was “Isn’t there a big Durga Ma temple in that place?”  I used to laugh it off saying it’s so grand a temple that you must pay a visit. Durgapur doesn’t mean that it has the biggest Durga Ma temple, similar to Puri, does it have the biggest Puri?

The vacations weren’t extended to Diwali as the earlier consensus was supposed to. After a couple of weeks, I was back in West Bengal. Meanwhile, my Ramzan month fast continued and it was bad to be back again with nothing else to expect from life, but to be ragged as first years. But, I was proved wrong. There was something in the climate that was changed. The air was a lot cooler and was as mesmerizing as the Bengali girls (not the ones in college). A single t-shirt no longer sufficed. A type of clothing unheard of, made its way into my wardrobe – woolen clothes. My first sweater, my first razai and my first wind-cheater, all made special appearances. I was for the first time in my life introduced to the loveliest of all seasons – “Winter”. Hailing from a tropical coastal city, rains and a chill weather with the mercury stooping to 20⁰C was all the winter I had seen in my life.

This experience was very different. Roomates fighting for the electrical heaters, the foggy mornings (of course not caused by grass smoking), the hot teas, the pleasant weather, the spectacles getting blurred while coming out of the computer laboratory, playing cricket with woolen clothes on, not able to decipher a girl’s figure because of her over-sized woolen clothes, days getting shorter and absolute bliss while hanging out in the evening with friends. I miss Durga Pujo, I miss the change that it brings into human life. The sense of calmness and tranquility that prevails can’t be expressed in words, but can be felt and remembered for a very long time. 

Lets Go!!!

Some things can be changed, whilst some can’t and we call it the inherent nature of a person. From where does this inherent nature takes its genesis from? Cell? DNA? Genes? Who cares by the way as these things are very much restricted to geneticist. Who bothers about these issues as long as justice is delivered? Talking about justice, every person following the Indian politics talks if the justice was fair and square. I am not talking whether we are doing justice to ourselves by hosting the Common Wealth Games, but the Ram-Janmabhoomi-Babri-Masjid case. 

I personally didn’t care what happened. I neither watched the live or the file coverage of the eagles preying on the carcasses nor read the glaring reports from newspapers, the next morning. I didn’t go to pray my Friday Jumma in the mosque not out of fear, but, to remain ignorant on the issue. Diplomacy is supporting both the causes, while I chose to be ignorant. My friend calls me up from Singapore to fret over wasting $15SING on the movie Enthiran (Robot) and the next conversation was whether the Babri-masjid’s justice was fair enough. I wasn’t worried if Lord Ram was born right at centre of the gravity of the geometric figure which is to be divided into three equal parts (although Mathematics says it can’t be), or if Babar built it to satisfy his barbaric needs. If the previous statement’s structure is considered, the analogy doesn’t seem to be right. On one hand, we have one of the Gods of Hinduism while an autocratic king on the other. And to say the least of all, they both have contributed immensely to what is known as India. 

I don’t have an opinion on this case in particular, but, like every other Indian; I am entitled to have one. As a person who has been brought up in a Hindu-Islam mix culture, I can have a unique opinion of my own. The case was resolved after 49 years; 18 years after the demolition took place. Don’t you think, our judicial system is pretty slow? Or was it a conspiracy involved, to pass the judgment when Indians understood each other better? Had the judgment been made in the 20th century, would it have affected the harmony of India? Now, we the mature Indians passing comments on colored-terrorism, viz. the Saffron-terror and the Green-terror, isn’t it an irony that these colors are the constituent colors of our proud National Flag? Innocent blood has been shed on the streets of the disputed site over blame-games. Will God be ready to reside there or be ready to be ever born again (avatar) at that same place? It is not a victory for a group and a compromise for the other, but a reality show for the Rest of the World to deride on us. We have just given way too much fodder for them to feast upon, let us roll up our sleeves and stay united. Hey Media folks, that was to you too. 

Questions galore will remain unanswered. But, God knows the best.