S.A.S Paper Plantain Leaves

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom which went by the name Areyeecee, situated amidst Kyaatangal. Legends describe of how the citizens grew green plantains also called 'vaazha'.  Nobody gave them money or anything but they had nothing better to do since those damn laptops hadn't arrived yet. So, they kept growing all these 'vaazhas'. And they got a lot of bananas out of it, which they freely distributed to everybody in Kyaatangal. So, all were happy.

But, as in every good story, all was not well in Areyeecee. One fine morning, two men dressed all in black, arrived with a big book full of so many rules. And, they threw the book around that small kingdom. It spoke of the coming of an age called Yennaitee. It was supposed to herald heroes with pot bellies and money-money-money. And, so they all decided, enough of Areyeecee, we want Yennaitee.

And they got Yennaitee. With the money-money-money, the newly christened Yennaitee-ens with their pot-bellied hero at its head, decided to switch to SAS Paper Plantains. It had a much livelier green colour and was much more cost effective. And they were bigger. Like way bigger. Like ten times bigger. Their trunks were made of glass. And all Yennaitee-ens admired it because it was so big. Nobody knew why it was big and nobody had an opinion on whether it should be big at all but big was a novelty and big meant better than those usual plantains.

And then, they realised it. No bananas. Absolutely no bananas. And, that's when Kyaatangal had enough of it. All those Yennaitee-ens, they exclaimed. Once they ate only puttu, now they eat even grass and sing reggae. Not to mention the fact, they keep watering those SAS Paper plantains for bananas.

This state of affairs continued for sometime, until the angels finally decided that they should write a bigger book on affairs. Much bigger than the one those men in black had brought. They  knew that Yennaite citizens had a fetish for big. And the purpose of the book was to keep the land of Yennaite active all the time.

For example, it created this great big game called 'Musical Chair'. It was so innovative that even the angels fell in love with it and adapted a version for themselves. So did our pot-bellied hero. Even the Almighties above the pot-bellied hero who resided nowhere near Yennaite and had no clue  where Yennaite was situated at all or what Yennaite people did. 'Musical Chair' united them all. It brought forth a special bond between each other

But there were too few chairs and too many Yennaite-ens. So, united as they were, they decided every hundred people who can dance to 'Silsila' together deserved a chair. But there were too many hundred people. And that's when those elimination rounds started. Now, that was quite tough like that damn AyeAyeTeeJee that none of these Yennaite-ens could get. So, they trained with all dedication from their very first year in the kingdom.

And people who didn't like the 'Silsila' of the musical chairs did a lot of different things. Those laptops had arrived. That pwnd one section of the population and pwornd another. Between the aforementioned and fatbook, one third of Yennaite-ens disappeared. The rest turned up at the DeeJai night of course, when Raman Nair from Kunnamangalam and Soman Nair from Attapady came as Dee Jai RaNa and Dee Jai SoNa.

And while Yennaite-ens were busy with all these antics, the angels wondered why bananas never came out of paper plantains. Some started writing papers on it. But, nobody understood why. They decided ultimately that Yennaite-ens had all gone rotten and that it's each angel to angelselves and that it's a dog-eat-dog world. Historical sources contradict each other on which happened first, whether angels changed first or the Yennaite-ens changed. Yennaite-ens always so clever called it the chicken and egg problem and made it a cult phenomena.

Of course, our hero kept increasing his pot belly and burping. He could hardly get up out of that soft couch. He reasoned that Yennaite is a medieval jungle composed of jaguars and leopards, where he would get eaten if he takes so much as a casual stroll.

Between Yennaite-ens who played 'Musical Chair', Laptoped and DeeJayed and the angels & hero who dreamt of dogs-eating-dogs, a kingdom marched ahead to cobwebs with a bit of Shinkari Melam.

Of course, there was that occasional bearded man who kept hugging trees and those bunch of cartoon characters who decided that they would start a revolution and suddenly realised they were short of funds. But, what can you do when the land went to Plantains whose leaves were made of paper?

Into the wild

This road, I do not know where it ends, 

But, it's long and winding and is lined with beautiful oak trees.

Maybe, at its end, I will have a story to tell;

And, so I will walk and wander.

- Anonymous

I hope you would have seen "Into the wild" and would know of Alexander the Supertramp. Not that it makes a difference. I won't ask anybody to pack their bags and go in search of nature. But, there's that one enduring aspect I like about that film. Taking the road not usually taken.

One more year in college and that's when you realise that you have to do something after college.  And, that's for people who would have cleared all the subjects. There would be a million more wondering whether they would pass college at all.

 People would eventually get a degree, of course. But, before that, we would all have moments when we are alone and brooding in front of our laptops or lying on our beds casually swatting mosquitoes and then our thoughts would go to what we actually want to do with our life. And it's not certain, whether society programmed us this way but most of us would think along the same lines. Our mind would draw a huge blank. " Aah IT job" (bangalore..pubs..disco)  "Allel Em-Bee-Yay..mwane" (coat and suit, hot chic PA, bundles of cash) " wattabt IAS?" ( Shaking the back of your hair like Mammootty does in 'The King'). "GATE thanne"( I Engineer, no. If core no, then waat?) "Atho gelf??"(Sheikh and oil).

And after a bit of hectic thought process, we would just smack our head onto the pillow or the table and exclaim."Feck." I have not seen many people go beyond that around here. Very honestly, I myself am a victim to this phenomenon. So, I have no right to go yabba-yabba . But, going yabba-yabba makes me feel much better. And so, here goes.

What causes such an insane rush into the above mentioned career paths, right when college is about to get over?Interestingly, I believe that most students in our college and other colleges would have experienced something called the continuity factor. What is the continuity factor? The belief that we should immediately know what to do, right after our undergraduate study ends. What contributes to the continuity factor? Those pricks called relatives, those annoying neighbours, the nosey parkers in our society and our own insecurities.

Relative : degree kittiya?
The dude : Yes
Relative : Joli kittiya?
The dude: No
Relative: Oh higher studies aa?
The dude: Er yeah...deciding on that.
Relative : Don't worry, you'll get something soon.
Relative's thought process : *Useless muffan * *Useless muffan * *Useless muffan*

And to add to this, we have our own insecurities to deal with. The sight of all those people who were our kith and kin for four years getting well-paid, decent jobs and settling in is not a pretty sight to see, especially if you don't have something in your own kitty.

But, let's take this from a different perspective(put in a bit of idealism, yeah.). We do have one life to live.(Since none of us are sure about 'after death scenarios') No. This is not a declaration that you should hence party for the rest of your life. None of us have rich relatives with cardiac problems. But, seeing that we do have only one life, we could take a break when we feel that things are moving too fast and we are getting swept off in the general uproar surrounding placements and higher education. Say, like a time-out in a basketball game, usually taken when the players are at an emotional and mental low.

And, then what? Plug your ears to the society and your own bloodline, of course. That did be highly necessary. Tell them that you are preparing for those three-letter-four-letter entrance examinations or make up some other excuse. It would give you some reprieve. And, then try out new things.(Of course, you need to convince everybody that these would ultimately count to those examinations).

We have examples of seniors in our college going for 'Teach for India'. I do not recommend it to everybody, of course. I don't think its as fun as those photos suggest. Rather it requires a certain kind of passion and the patience to work everyday  without getting too much wage. (But, I guess you do get a certain kind of happiness and pride doing something like that.)

Perhaps you can start an entrepreneurial venture with those close pals of yours and do something that you would like to continue with, for the rest of your life. What about those little hobbies of yours? Photography, writing, sketching and those gazillion other stuffs out there. Do you have it in you to take it all the way?You might as well give it a try. You wouldn't want to regret not trying it out afterwards. Do you like travelling? Okay. Get a random job, save some money and then do it. You could even write a travelogue. Remember that bearded guy aka 'Sanchari'.

"And, then what?" Yeap. I knew you did ask that. You always do have to rupture my dreamy thoughts. That aside, I know why are you asking that. Well, if your venture ended up in a failure, you can still opt for those conventional paths. It's my belief that most universities outside of our country and indeed the top management institutes as well as a lot of other institutes here offering post graduation, wouldn't perceive you  negatively for wasting a year or two as long as you can explain to them what you did, give them specific reasons and tell them what you learned out of it. That's considered as initiative.

A secure and stable life?  Isn't it a tad bit over-rated? It's my belief that at the end of your life, it's not exactly the amount of money you made that counts(as in you don't need to make a lump of it) but it's those memories  that count. And memories mean that you did shitty things which had hilarious consequences and yet you stuck to your guns and beliefs. If so, wasting a year or two, to actually search for something you would like to do eventually or doing some crazy stuff which makes a certain kind of logical sense, isn't a waste at all.

The right path for you probably is not the one which everybody takes. That's the secure path. At the end of this article, if you are indeed a cynic like most of us, you would smile and close this blog. But, I hope you have a bit of that X-factor in you and I hope this thought that I have raised would churn and boil inside your head when you go for your next placement or your next three-letter-four-letter entrance examination.

Transition.

"Macha, we should always come back here, to our college. So much memories." He blabbered half-drunk. His macha took one look at him, tried to comprehend what he was saying and vomited right onto the plate of pickles which they used as 'touchings'.

Some years into the future, in one of those random IT companies in and around Bangalore, a software professional with a white shirt and red tie would close his laptop, stretch his arms and by chance remember about a plate of pickle and smile. He would then open his water bottle, splash some water onto his face, wipe it off and close his eyes to relax for some time.

The rains drizzled across the Rajpath, washing away all those crow droppings and giving rise to a peculiar, shitty smell perhaps unique to NIT-C.A guy and a girl was sitting on the front steps of the MB lobby, talking with quite wistful looks on their face." Hmm. Not many days more." the guy remarked twiddling his 'kaalan koda' very affectionately. "I know." the girl replied. They kept quiet for some time and gazed at the rain. And, then suddenly the girl murmured "So, sweetie, will this fall apart eventually?'. He brought his gaze back to her. He wasn't very sure, but he replied very confidently." Of course not, I don't want to start all over again." He turned his gaze back onto the rain and to that hot chic walking on the Rajpath sidewalk, without an umbrella.

She was the kind who enjoyed the rain lashing out at her face. As she walked across the Rajpath, she also understood that she was the kind who enjoyed familiarity. It would be difficult to get away after having lived four long years here. She wondered how it did be like at IIM-A.  After enough lazing around, obtaining average grades and having fun, she finally turned things around at the very last moment. She was epitomised as one of those people, who got everything that they wanted out of college life. But as she finally got out of the main gate, she began wondering whether a hectic life filled with corporate work, would actually be a nice ending to the story. She gave a thought about re-thinking her options and trying out something different.

"Let's analyse the options we have in our hand. Get me those files quickly." she said in a firm tone. A nice, plush job managing the HR department of an MNC. It was hectic but she sort of liked it that way. Not to mention the moolah and that nice air conditioned cabin that she got. It was July and the monsoons had set in. Unknown to the inmates of that large company office who were engrossed in their work, the rains had set in.

The rain had subdued. Somewhere near the ELHC pits, a club meeting was going on. A certain secretary was doing his last rites before he stepped down. In front of him were a bunch of second years, to whom he would give up his mantle to and another bunch of uninitiated first years. One more year in college and some crappy placement to look forward to. As the interactions proceeded and his year mates blabbered away to glory, he was mentally sizing up his juniors. He was satisfied. He might not have etched his name in the annals of the club history to be remembered forever. But that was okay. And, what's the big deal in a club, some would ask. That's the one thing he could never properly explain even to his own first year club juniors. But, he was fairly confident, that one day..Somebody called out his name and broke his reverie. As if on a cue, he began his speech in a strict tone. He hated showing too much of sentimentality. It was getting dark. 

It was one of those random night outs to save the day. Some big college or club event the next day. At around 5:00 am, all of them have nearly collapsed. A bunch of people are lying down all over the MB lobby amidst all those mosquitoes, some half asleep and others snoring, on the cold and dirty floor. Suddenly, somebody arrives on a bike with a polythene pack full of puttu and veg stew packets, bought from a thattukada a few miles away. After a lot of shuffling, everybody gets up to gorge on the delicacy. The event will go fine. They have made sure of that. And the food's tasty. Everything's all right with the world.

"I believe I deserve a raise. I have contributed a lot to this project, which has given the company a lot of returns." He said curtly to his project manager." I will give a recommendation in your next appraisal." his project manager replied. He needed the raise badly.  And, he did contribute as he had said. They should give it to him, he thought or else he must jump ship.

And so time will jump in quantums, leaving behind ridiculous memories. Relationships will wane but would linger on. People would give up on those youthful idealisms. Things would move forward and older stories and graffiti would fade to give way to newer ones. We would become less passionate. And life would catch up. But, until then.  

Pillars and Stones

An excerpt from an old and incomplete article of mine.

She was about 70 years old.There was that serene look on her face, which came with old age.She was crossing the street when that over speeding bike hit her.As she lay on the road breathing heavily, with grave injuries, people flocked together.They murmured to each other.Vehicles stopped and families prayed for her from the cozy insides of their car. And, she still lay on the road.It finally took a bunch of people, the 'good Samaritans', to 'act' and dump her body inside the nearest car. The driver was, of course, totally unwilling to take her but had to, amidst all the shouting.Some time later, she died, even though the nearest hospital was barely minutes away.

As scores of steeled skyscrapers encroach into the once pristine land, we are losing something else besides the greenery. Our humanity. Welcome to a terrifying world, where people do not give a damn, about what happens to others or if they do, they did rather wish them luck from a distance.

Human beings are naturally programmed to react to an external stimulus in two different ways.Fight or Flight.As our society evolves with time,the response has become skewed towards the latter.We run away and we run fast.We run away from giving help and from reacting against what we consider wrong because we fear a backlash.The vast majority of us stand by.We would prefer to be a concerned onlooker, the quintessential walking-talking stone.

The Road to Revolution

This winter, I returned a bit early to college. I love returning to college early. The place is empty and not swarming as usual with humanity obsessed with their daily, frenetic lives. It was around evening, the part which un-original poets usually call dusk. I was taking that casual stroll through Rajpath, which was littered with dry, fallen leaves. Somewhere near the main entrance gate, I saw a rusted, old REC board. Among those pristine old buildings, which had so many legends etched on it, a bunch of glassed and steel rod structures had grown up. I closed my eyes.

I opened it up to the loud sounds of the open air Dee Jay night. The loud thumps and booms. The sexes trying to hit on each other. And, that familiar smell of booze. The loudness of laughter. Of course, there's the lot of them who are too confused to understand what's going on. The countdown to New Year. The unison of the voices. Three. Two. One. A lone rocket launches itself into infinity and bursts into a supernova.

The sudden light startles me. It’s from my laptop, warning me that the battery charge is nearly over. I wake up from my drunken stupor and plug the charger. The weird music plays on. It’s difficult to turn off something when your emotions and lightness of mood depend on it. I snuggle back into the bed. Sleep does not come that easily. Those damn mosquitoes. And my thoughts drift off. Revolution. And my eyelids begin to droop. Raised fists.

“Revolution..” he screams. “That’s what this college needs.” The audience, a bunch of first years, look mesmerised as usual. Politics anywhere usually has two things in common. Unkempt promises and a dumb audience. And of course, there’s that young guy, who falls in love with Che and Neruda. He usually has a stubble on his chins. But, he’s pretty much missing around here. The screaming, I suspect, has more to do with lust than ideologies. Since, it converts itself into shaded bottles with the more experienced audience. A pile of red bricks lie untouched near the orator. Somebody should probably hurtle one of them onto his face. Get a taste of the real red, he should.

His face falls as he glances at his examination scores. But, only briefly. I was barely able to notice it. He hid it quickly with his usual burst of laughter. But, when class hours got over, I could see him looking at a distance from the top floor of the department building and contemplating his future. Interestingly, he avoided looking down.

Down below, one of those Yen-Are-Aye girls is seen giggling with that mallu dude near the coffee shop. Damn. She’s hot. Long, dandy legs. She seems to be cursing this college. The guy agrees. Even I do. We certainly do not know how to live a good life and have a good time. Too much of academics or too much of loyalty to college tends to mess up a lot of people. I walk down to the shop and approach the mallu dude. Yo, Dawwg. Gimme that mugga coffee. Effing thirsty. The Yen-Are-Aye chic merely raises an eyebrow at my dramatics. Damn.

The midnight coffee around here is steaming and romantic. I have always loved it. Neskapi for the benefit of my friend, who says “nee dude alla. Vwerum thara malayali.” After some deliberation into the matter, I decide that I agree with him. A midnight walk coupled with the coffee is very sexy. And so here I am, wandering around the college. Much of the fallen leaves have been swept off.

People are being swept off their feet. Not with joy, though. Yes! Mob fights. A left hooker onto the jaw. A right hooker onto the...er…okay…that would really hurt. “What are they fighting over? “ I venture to ask. “Eda, injustice against our countrymen. We have the right to equality against the treachery of bourgeoisie”. Seems fair enough. “He wants to become this thing. But, if we put in this guy, we thought it would be acceptable to them. Since, we don’t want the other guy. But, then apparently not. A fight started. I am trying to derive mental equations to solve this conundrum.” Chanakya mutters behind the enemy lines. That is also pretty fair. And, I walk away from the crowd.

Central Computer Centre ahead. Damn. Am I seeing what I am seeing? Revolution-Screamer buttoned up in formals and waiting in a queue. Wonder whether he can work up his magic yet again? The queue seems pretty much unending. The ones who have finished with their interviews are walking out. Some of them seem cheery. Others have a bitter, wistful look.

I turn back to look at those gigantic gates. It’s the last day of my college life. I thought I did fast forward. I cannot do it in real life, of course. But, I can around here in this piece of writing. And as expected, I see gigantic black gates.Emptiness. For a moment, I panic. And then, it sets in. Emotions and memories. It’s fall again. The place is empty. They have all gone. It’s strewn with leaves from the fall. Dejavu. A scrawny first year kid looking in awe at that majestic path ahead, culminating in the centre circle. I will myself back into my fictitious future. And, I walk away with a small suitcase trolley.

A Letter.

To,

Kaduva, (Well, that's what the kids call you.So, Don't blame me.)

The principal,

Sarvodaya Vidyalaya.

Yes.I totally understand.You would like to improve the school and you are trying to usher in a new era.Now, since this is your first year in our school and I have lived a good fourteen years of my life there,I guess I am in a position to give you a bit of advice about some of the changes you are trying to initiate.

1)English Drama

Okay, I will give this to you.This might actually end up doing something good.But, then I did be damn annoyed if you are going to censor just about everything they come up with.It's only with independence, that creativity comes into picture.

2)Re-naming the L- and R- blocks.

I am guessing you go to some Church, being a Reverend and all that stuff.And, I am guessing the church has a name.What would you feel if one fine day, the priest decides to change the church's name for the heck of it?Do not change stuff for the fun of it or to score points with God either.We have lived a good part of our lives there.It's our temple and church and mosque.We are pretty sentimental about the place.We hate annoying changes.

3)Segregation of girls and boys till tenth.

How exactly did you get that brilliant idea?Are you stupid enough to think that if you forbid interactions between the opposite sexes, it will solve all the adolescent issues riddling them?If you ban them from talking to each other, are you mad to think that they will accept it silently? They are teenagers and they'll rip your ban apart.If you want them to grow up respecting each other, separating them is not going to help.Yes, some of them will go and have relationships behind your back.But, it's a phase and it's harmless.If you are still very concerned, give them a proper education on their limits rather than treating them like babies.

4)Banning the kids from playing in Basketball court during recess and making "unnecessary" noise.

No, A Basketball court is not where you have tonnes of shelves containing books and boards with "SILENCE PLEASE" written over it.You got confused.I grew up running across that court with my friends.I haven't become a criminal yet.Kids are supposed to grow up doing precisely what you have banned them from doing.In the name of education, do not ruin their childhood.You'll end up producing a bunch of robots.

5)Reducing the duration of Youth Festival and banning events like Western dance.

A school is not a place which burps out engineers and doctors annually.A school is where a kid gets an inkling of what he or she would really love to do.There's nothing indecent about loving literature and fine arts.And, Western dance?Oh yeah, I forgot. Veerapan and Bin Laden did a lot of western dancing in school,didn't they?

6)One day Excursion trips.

It's been more than three years since I stepped out of that institution.Whenever my vacations come up, I always find time to wander in and around Sarvodaya Vidyalaya.You see,my chest puffs up when somebody mentions that name.It's called memories.It's not just physics, chemistry and mathematics with which I passed out of Sarvodaya. I had a lot of awesome moments in school.Excursions count as one among them.The sky will not fall upon your head, if you let them have fun for three or four days.

7)Discipline

It's a very interesting quality.But, it's quite over rated.Especially, if you intend to bully the kids into learning it.I have heard that you are extremely picky about queues and other stuff.But, seriously it did be much better if you are able to instill in the kids other values like the ability to speak up for their beliefs and the ability to help one another.That really is much more important.

Yes, you would have initiated other reforms, some of which might benefit Sarvodaya a lot.I might have got the wrong information about you.It does not matter.Sarvodaya is just another job for you.It's much more for me.We are talking about the place where I got a bunch of people who would probably stand up for me all throughout my life.It's where me and the same bunch of people created chaos, landed up into all sorts of shit and had a lot of fun.It's where I had my first crush and then another one and then yet another one.All of which probably wouldn't make sense to you, eh?

We built that school brick by brick.The place is filled up with the legends we created and the graffiti we engraved.

Treat it with respect.Be careful with my school.I do not care how much older or how much well respected you are.

You'll end up facing the wrath of a lot of us out here.

From,

A Damn Proud and Probably Arrogant SV-ite

In Memoriam

Suddenly, he threw the bottle onto the brick wall. The wall broke into a hundred million pieces. Brittle and Shiny. And the bottle dissolved into liquidness. And, darkness consumed him. He tried to open his eyes. He could only see a hazy vision of what was happening.

But, then his eyes drooped. A single drop of blood raced down from his head onto the asphalt tiles. He could hear footsteps. He could hear their shouts. Somebody tried to pull him up. They would always ask why. He knew that. He did not have an answer.

They would all remember him for a single day. And, then as usual, it would be back to their mundane lives, lived in order to either reach somewhere or to get a high with whatever they have. Being forgotten did not matter to him, but those murmurs about his sanity, especially when he could not reply…

He could sense the movement of the ambulance. He could also sense the numbness creeping in. And, where the numbness had not yet reached, it was searing pain that he could feel. The horns blared relentlessly. He just wished they could reduce the volume. Time appeared to be dragging itself, just like in those nightmares he usually got.

Yet,for this one time, he knew it was not a nightmare. He could see the walls. Thousands of uniformly coloured grey bricks that were slowly coming to choke him. And, then he remembered. He had tried.