The cute fellow whom I love beyond any boundaries of relationship is somewhere where I am unable to trace him…I will never be able to talk about you in past tense Raj. And that is because I still feel I’ll just give you a miss call and you will call back. When every area of this Hyderabad I know is full your memories, I can just think that you are somewhere in this world beyond contact and will definitely come back one day to say ‘I am back’ as you used to say while we chatted. But it hurts beyond imagination to think that every morning I’ll sign in to chat and your status will never appear. It hurts that you will not be able to give me instructions to improve my blog, the way it looks. It hurts that you will no more make calls at midnight just to wake me up from my sleep to say good night. It hurts that you will no more argue on the clothes we should shop for or the place where we should have a get together with all the members in our disastrous and naughty team. It hurts that we will no more dance to the groovy numbers that only you and me like in our team. It hurts that we will no more exchange unnecessary compliments to each other and then say ‘lite le’! It hurts that we will no more have crazy long walks like we had on the other evening- from Hyderabad Central to Shyamlal. It hurts that you will no more scold me for being upset for silly reasons and for saying n number of ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ to you. It hurts that you will never comment on this blog of mine saying “pichchi pilla I am back na…”.

More than my losing all these fine moments in life, humanity has lost one of its beacons. You have done things that many well-settled people wouldn’t even think of. You are a perfect example of a youngster being perfectly a part of this generation and still aware of every single sorrow and mishap around. I bow to you for having brought my ideals in place. I bow to you to have shown that, one needn’t put up a face of an intellectual to become an angel. There is just one thing I am happy about when I write this blog in your absence is that I have always told you all this and complimented you for this. I have no feeling that tells me I should have told you how special you are to me.

At this very moment there is no strength left to fight. I hate this situation; I want to break out of this situation. Everyone is telling to be brave and be strong. I don't understand why? Can’t we have our own time to live this grief and try to change and survive the shock god has given us. People please give us some time we’ll manage but don’t stop us from breaking down. We are not able to stand individually but we will stand together collectively.

Raj you were the best among all of us. The most inspiring person! And if you are watching us from any place, we will make sure you will also be proud of us as we are of you. You will live through us…these are not mere words. You have inspired us beyond comprehension and this fire will never die. I promise dear! And I will pass on this message of humanity throughout my life and also after my life if I attain the amount of passion that you had for humanity. Kudos to you for having inspired many among your friends. Life was like a dream with you around. But I am sure I will be able to bring that zeal in me back because I know you are already on your way to be back with all of us, in some way or the other. The amount of love and care you invested in making all of us happy are going to bloom and you will be proud of all of us. I promise about myself and about the others…I know every one loves you so much that we will compete to prove who loves you the most! And I am sure I will win. I love you a lot dear! I am waiting for you. People who think I am mad to do so will see how I find you back, but in which form…that I don’t know.

The Jaipur journey begins:

11:30 in the night on the 16^th of June we landed at Sindhi Camp bus stop Jaipur. The moment we step down the bus we see a friendly man holding a placard with our names on it. For the first time I realized how a foreigner would feel on an alien land. Within seconds we were surrounded by auto-wallas, taxi drivers and coolies and it didn’t matter to them that we have got our own vehicle to take us to our destination. Somehow we managed to wade through the crowd (me already fretting and fuming at the unexpected and unpleasant intrusion).

It was a long and dark journey towards the institution- Indian Institute of Health Management and Research (IIHMR). The institution is near the Sanganer Airport and therefore in a secluded area. Though the institute looked spooky at 12 in the night, I was happy to have learnt that we will have a whole house to ourselves- apartment C1. A small but a decent living room (with a television set and a telephone), two rooms with attached bathrooms, a small and dusty kitchen (which was of no use to us through out our stay) and of course Air Coolers in both the rooms (about which Liam, unlike Zoё and me, was very excited). Liam politely insisted on taking the comparatively smaller room as he need not share it with another person, thanks to Jatin (a name which would often appear in our conversation citing how better or worse things would be with him around). With no intention to start our work on a weekend we decided not to have an early morning and so all of us went to bed. But contrary to our plan a lady and a man from the house keeping department of the institution came at 6:30 in the morning to get the details of the foreigners who have stepped into their campus the night before. By mistake they ended up making me fill my details too (in spite of my skepticism) in the same form but then they realized their mistake later. That was the start of our encounters with the department…you will soon realize how frequent we needed them to be around us.

After a vain attempt to sleep again we decided to go for breakfast to the canteen that was at a small distance from our apartment (as per the instructions given by the house keeping department). Just before we were about to leave our apartment, Liam came up with a question- he seemed pretty confused with the plastic thing in the Bathroom, which wasn’t actually a tumbler but seemed like one. Zoё and I spelt it out for him- it is a ‘Bucket’. Well now you must have fairly got an idea as to what lies in store for you guys to read in my blog. There are more of such profound questions by all three of us to come. And we tried our level best to answer each other’s strange queries.

A tar road separated our apartment compound and the institution compound. The canteen block fell in between the Gate and the main building. The construction of the institution was very impressive- (I really regret my incapacity to describe the construction-so just visit the link IIHMR on my 'worth giving a look section' of my blog). The food was good and we were bewildered because people around us called us ‘madam’ and ‘Sir’ (the sudden realization that I wasn’t a student but a professional struck me hard). Somehow it gave me a feeling that I can’t fool around anymore and that I have to be serious… don’t worry people, as you all know me very well I never caught up with the image. In fact I and Liam were sometimes so ridiculous that Zoё really had to give us the kind of look that meant- Can’t you guys be a little sensible. And it is true that Zoё was much more mature in all ways than us but don’t be mistaken she wasn’t at all a serious faced person. In fact she is the most humorous of all the people I have ever met. One could learn from her how to take life in its stride without cribbing about it. And Liam, the only person whom I felt was exactly like me in more than one ways, is lot of fun to be around. He is the kind of person with whom anyone would feel comfortable. Oh god…I think I should leave it up to you to decide how good both of them are from my blogs. So to carry on with my first day (don’t worry I won’t explain each day so elaborately as this one)…we met our Supervisor Dr Satish, a very adorable person who will give you all due respect regardless of whom you are. We decided to start work on Monday (that day being a Saturday). In the evening all three of us plan to visit the famous Jaipur bazaars to buy some necessary items like a packet of washing powder, a rope and many eatables… guys I need a break and I think you too. Bye for now!!! (God I love punctuation marks)

Orientation:

Nothing special to talk about our grand orientation that was conducted at India Habitat Center (yes the huge building you can see in Rang de Basanti). But if I do not mention the sumptuous meals that we were given it will be an injustice from my quarters. Indeed to be truthful I have never seen such grandeur in my life in terms of food and I must say I love Pasta! With exceptionally boring sessions not just in the mornings but also in the afternoons I could barely keep my eyes opened. But I tried my best to keep my eyes, if not my brain, open to the on goings.

I must say that in spite of being in Hyderabad Central University for past two years I never tried hard to speak to international students as such. Not because I was being a snob but because I never thought any of them can relate to me in any ways. But now at the orientation with half of the hall filled with international students I had to buck up my courage and speak to them. And I found that they were actually not as different as I had thought they would be. And an incident gave me more reasons to try my luck: all of them, along with the national students, seemed to be excited at the news of remuneration for the four days of our orientation. But who wouldn’t be if someone pays you for sitting through their sessions! And so I met my first team mate Zoë!

I introduced myself to Zoë, and actually was a little relieved that she wasn’t too upset to see me as her team mate. But even before we could explore deeply about how good we were to each other our major concern became our team mates. Yes the male community in our team- Mr Jatin and Mr Liam. Now both of us hadn’t seen these two individuals on the first day and were extremely worried about our upcoming project which included both research and video documentation. Answering to our queries the organizers told us that Mr Jatin had dropped out of the internship program and Mr Liam had faced problems with his flight. So we slowly settled with the fact that we were only three in our team now. Liam didn’t come for two days and I and Zoë had to do all the team building exercises. And during one of those exercises both I and Zoë found that both of us are disastrous at sketching. Finally Liam came on the third day. But we were glad that at least he got to do one team building exercise with us. My skepticism of being with two foreigners continued and I hardly stayed out with them (only to know how stupid I was).

On the day we were supposed to leave to our respective posting places, we- the Jaipur team, were almost left alone as the others had already taken off to their destinations. As there was no other go except to be with my team mates I decided to face the reality and experience the much dreaded task of bonding with them. Our Bus was at 5 in the evening so we planned to go to the ISKCON temple and the Bahai temple (there starts my first chapter of learning new things! I was completely ignorant about the Bahai faith.)

First time I saw the copy of the much heard of travel guide- “Lonely Planet” and was quite amazed about the details in it. Zoë should be credited for that because we followed the lonely planet through out our trip. By the time I came back I knew one thing that I do not stand out in my team and that my team mates can actually decipher my ways or rather are nice enough to tolerate my ways! I became much more comfortable with them and believe me it was a relief for me. I really regret the moments I delayed to make friends with my dear team mates.

5 p.m the bus started and also our memorable journey to Jaipur as a team. Remaining part of the narration will have to wait for a few days! And yes I still can’t upload any image on to my blog.

Hmm... It’s been long since I wrote something. I have no one but me to blame for this delay. But I promise that this journey of yours through whatever I have in store for you may not be bad.

Three months of my UNICEF internship at a very new place, with new people, new food, surprising revelations and of course new fun was not just a passing affair for me. Therefore I decide to pen it down on my blog.

This blog will have many parts and if my grey cells help me I might be able to upload some snaps worth having a look (not completely because of its creative beauty but also because of its content). So I begin with due citation of my dear friend Liam’s blog space: http://niffirg-mail.blogspot.com/ . His blog, If not mine, I am sure, will definitely ensure how adventurous the journey was.

And of course before I start I would confess that... I got a culture shock-at times pleasant and at times infuriating when I saw an India that was completely different from my concept. Nevertheless my experience was more romantic than what I had thought it would be and all this only because of my dear friends Zoë and Liam. This part of my life would have never been so interesting without them.


The journey begins

June 11, 2006 early morning I boarded the AP Express. Amal came to drop me and as usual I showed a gloomy face for leaving my favorite place, completely ignorant of the fun that I’ll be having for the coming three months. Amal was patient and gave me a list of ‘things to be careful’ about. Not that he is one of those sorts who will give long list of things to be done but considering the fact that it was me who was traveling it was apt of him to give me instructions. And I stuck to what he had advised me. Sometimes you should listen to people who are more careful than you are. Thanks dear I really care about what you say to me!

After contemplating for long, I decided to read “Ladies’ coupe” given by Raj as my farewell gift when all my favorites: Amal, Ram, Raj, Thulasi and Nasheeda met the previous day. We missed Pradeep, he wasn’t in Hyderabad to join us.

Opposite to me were a Punjabi couple and their kids- a daughter and a son. They seemed pretty amassed by Hyderabad and were traveling in groups. They had come to Hyderabad to get the traditional treatment for asthma. They were a happy go lucky family who passed their time by singing songs. But to be truthful I thought that ‘Uncle’ was a little too absorbed in constantly staring at me and addressing his songs to me which made me quite uncomfortable.

Well after the chivalric venture of mine to excuse myself from the hub I quietly cornered myself with the book.

12th June, yes the next day morning the moment I got down at New Delhi station at 10 a.m, whom do I see? Mr Ram, who constantly surprises me, was there to receive me. And that’s my dear Ram who never fails to give me pleasant surprises. Well you must be wondering how Ram reached Delhi when he was in Hyderabad the day before my departure. Exactly the question I had in my mind! Well he had an official work of his planned well in time for my arrival in Delhi and so he was there by flight before I could reach there by train. I am really fond of all your surprises dear!

Delhi was a new place for me and with a Delhi expert with me I had no hassles to reach the International Youth Hostel, where all the interns were put up. Nice place with lot of Malayalies around a bit too costly with no real visible royalty. Nevertheless comfortable!

And the narration continues in the next post. From next post onwards the characters change dramatically: it is going to be a ‘crazy’ Indian, who never knew she had little knowledge that her country was any different from other countries; an Aussie anthropologist who beats everyone with her ever ready sense of humour and an enthusiastic Canadian who can make people forget Gandhigiri with his thanks giving. (Zoë and Liam, dear I know you are not familiar with the term ‘Gandhigiri’, so this explanation is for you: Gandhigiri is the latest buzz word in India. It is nothing but promoting Gandhi’s value through daily act of yours. A movie called “Lago Raho Munnabhai” promoted it. It has gone for Oscars this time. Have a look at it!)

The promised sequel…
It is more a visual diary than a story (more or less like a screenplay- powerful in visuals and sounds, along with emotions and less dialogues). The narrated incident is true but I’ve established it in a different place, in a dramatized fashion.

Dark cloudy night! The orange streetlight floods the Bus stop at the university small gate. Long array of cycles and the watchman’s cabin on the left. The watchman can be seen having his dinner in the white light inside the cabin. A bus screeches to a halt outside the gate.

A short, fat girl is seen unboarding the bus. The moment she steps on the road, the bus speeds ahead. Perplexed by the sudden action, the girl hurries towards the gate. Fat figure clad in jeans and shirt, with her bag put across her shoulder!

Pulling a key out of her front pocket she rushes through the gate towards the parked cycles. Quick in her action, she figures her red belled cycle, unlocks it and turns it towards the road, opposite to the gate. She turns her head towards the pattering sound of water droplets falling on the road. It has started drizzling!

As she peddles, the broken spoke of the back wheel makes a rhythmic ticking sound when it hits the steel of the cycle. Long empty road, with thick trees on one side and an open ground on the other! It’s dark and damp. The pattering sound of rain falling on the road and leaves, the ticking sound of the spoke and the speeding sound of the peddle fills the night.

The cycle speeds towards the white light at a distant junction. It takes a right turn. She lifts left hand, checks her watch and peddles faster. It’s dark and difficult to see. Wiping her eyes, she spots a puddle into which the cycle was heading. She clutches the breaks but “splash” goes the puddle water.

The cycle doesn’t stop. She tries clutching the breaks again- once, twice…no use, the breaks have failed her. She hits her hand on the handle out of frustration and stops peddling so that the cycle slows down.
The road starts becoming visible as the cycle nears the white light at the bus stop. The cycle has slowed down. There is a car parked beside the bus stop. A dark macho figure appears behind the car. He comes to the road as the cycle nears the car. He lifts his left hand as if to stop the cycle and shouts, “May I help you madam”.

Quick with a jolt, the girl turns the handle to move away from the man and starts peddling faster and faster, trying not to look behind.
The cycle speeds away. It has stopped drizzling, but it is still foggy!!!

I would conclude with the same note-
…safety and dignity, in this so called dignified society, remains a matter of concern for every girl, irrespective of their personal status. And therefore this is a sequel to the heartrending portrayal of the woman in rags.

If Only I Could…

“Why do you have to board a running bus?” shouts the grimfaced lady bus conductor as I jump onto the running bus. “There is no 49M for the next fifteen minutes, I’ll be late for the rehearsals” I murmur justifying my most unreasonable act, half out of breath, but the conductor doesn’t listen.

Taking a ladies seat near the window, I notice that the bus is less crowded. “Madam” says a grumpy voice behind me- the conductor, with a very obvious frustrated tone in it. Probably because of people like me who board the bus exactly when it is most dangerous to step in. “Ek Begumpet” I say handing over a five rupee coin, nevertheless ashamed of my clumsy behaviour. She takes the change and giving me the ticket, walks over to the front seat. A tinkling sound comes from the seat as I see a small chubby hand giving a ten rupee note to the conductor. Pink bangles- goes very well with her fair colour! Her mother says “Ek Shopper’s stop”. I lean a bit to have a glance of the baby girl. Dressed in a pink frilled frock, her hair is tied neatly on both sides with pink ribbons. Pink is my favourite colour too!

The loud click of my spectacle box makes me aware of my customary act of reading in the bus. As I flip the pages of my book, the little girl’s voice and the grumbling roar of the bus fade into the impressions that I read.

A tinkling voice calls back my attention to the real world from a much preferred world of fiction. The little girl stands with her hands outstretched indicating her mother to carry her as she got up to get down. Realizing it’s time for me to get ready to get down at the next stop, I pack my bag. I watch the little girl clinging to her mother as they cross the crowd making way to the pavement. As I admire a mother’s assurance of safety to her kid, a disheveled figure appears at the back of the mother and her kid- A middle-aged woman, with brown, uncombed hair. She is carrying a baby girl who is holding on to her torn blouse.

With no fancy bangles on her skinny hands, no ribbons to tie her unkempt hair with, the girl looked far from being attractive in her blue oversized slip. The presences of the two figures make the crowd uncomfortable! As usual they stare at the living example of human suffering without letting their thoughts stay on it for a spilt second.

Suddenly the mother puts her kid down with a thud and moves further towards an open drainage lid. She spreads her long skirt and sits at the edge of the hole. Unable to make sense of the shocking site, I gape at the heartrending scene. How unimaginable her plight would be if she has to abandon her shame in a public place like this!

The bus slowly began to burr and after a few minutes I was there at my destination, crossing the road. Gaping absentmindedly at the road I walked with an unanswered question in my heart – should I thank my stars that I am not in place of that poor soul or should I be blamed for feeling completely gutless to go forward and listen to the deafening cries of my heart to do something for the deprived!

- A true incident that passed my eye and still remains as a sore in it. But something stroked me the other day, told me that safety and dignity are concerns for women in general irrespective of their personal status in the society. But the fact remains that the underdogs are the most vulnerable of the lot, in this society of highly ‘civilized’ people- where one is worse than the other. Sometimes through action and sometimes through inaction. In relation to the subject the story has a sequel…