Nair and the Cat - Aam Aadmi Party

Nair : Hey Cat. Come and take a look. Kejriwal's swearing in ceremony is being shown on TV.
Cat : Yes. What is so unique in that? And politics is a subject which has hardly interested you.
Nair : Yeah. Well, you cannot blame me. It's because Indian politics has been really dirty till now. This man has a chance of cleaning it up.
Cat : Tsk. Humans. They consider themselves the most advanced of all species and yet they find it so difficult to learn simple lessons.
Nair : What? What are you talking about?
Cat : The history of humankind is replete with the same cycles. And yet it is difficult for them to fathom that cycle. Stage one always starts with human beings being dissatisfied by the prevailing norms and practices. Everybody wants to change the system but accept that the effort of one person would go naught and is insignificant. Therefore, they adjust to the system. Of course, there might be a minority who would offer a bit of resistance in their daily lives.They know that they cannot change the system. They do their one good deed and specifically ensure that it goes noticed. After all, they did the good deed and they deserve the claps.
Nair : That is not fair. They do deserve the claps. Besides, when they do publicise it, it results in a ripple effect. If I do something good and somebody else come to know of it, it results in a ripple effect.
Cat : Of course. A ripple effect. In social media terms, likes and shares.  Publicity. Tears. And finally inspiring enough for someone else to commit a new good deed and afterwards get their share of limelight.
Nair : Yeah. Yeah. That's a very pessimistic view though. And, where does Kejriwal fit into it? He can't be classified as the minority that did one good deed. He has been a consistent participant in the anti-corruption movement since its inception.
Cat : Yes. Of course, general dissatisfaction leads to stage two. There arises out of ashes that one personality who promises utopia or atleast a movement towards the same. A personality who realises the raging issues of the day and takes a stand against them. In the ancient era, it was religious icons. Modern era brought about such figures like Hitler who promised Lebensraum and the revival of the German pride, Lenin who promised an egalitarian and classless society, George Bush who promised a global war against terrorism and so on and so forth. An image would be built up and they would be portrayed as the symbol of that struggle against that raging issue. While the minority who got through with the little deeds were the small fish, the aforementioned were the minority among the minority. They were the big fish. Nair, all the fish talk has made me hungry.
Nair : Food can come later. So, what if such personalities come up? Ordinary people need somebody to rally around. Kejriwal and AAP has given courage and encouragement to many people to come out of their closets.
Cat : Because that is where stage three happens. Now, here one of the two things happen. If that particular personality is not charismatic enough, the masses go back to their daily lives after having transferred to him the responsibility of resolving their issue.
Nair : I am going to interrupt there. One of the central tenets of AAP has been the setting up of Mohallas and decentralisation of power. So, you see. The masses won't be going back to their daily lives. They would be made to actively participate in governance at the local level. Besides that, they have also promised to instruments of direct democracy like referendum and recall.
Cat : Yes, of course. The masses would have their demands and nothing more. No solution. No understanding. And in a country like India, if you take hundred people, the official census says that seventy four would be literate. But, literacy is nothing more than the ability to read and write in any language. Literacy and Education are different. Education leads to an informed and well-reasoned opinion. The very teeming masses you are talking about has perpetuated the miseries of an outdated, rigid caste system and has waged riots in the name of religion misinterpreting the very scriptures written by similar personalities ages ago.
Humanity in general loves faces and symbols. Arvind Kejriwal is the face and Jhadoo is the symbol. He has promised free water and cheaper electricity. Tangible benefits for them. He will clean corruption by himself. In summary, an identifiable face and symbol which would offer them tangible benefits and do most of the work by himself. Nothing else matters to them.
Nair : Wait. You said stage three had two alternatives. What is the second one?
Cat : The particular personality concerned would be highly charismatic. The masses who already question little because they are sure to receive the sops they are promised would adore him.  Thus, even in principle if decentralisation is adopted, what happens in reality would be centralisation. An unquestioning and face-loving mass would eventually lead to an autocrat. The US war on terrorism finally evolved into something else. Hitler committed holocaust. The Soviet dream disintegrated as socialist ideals stifled growth and resulted in the concentration rather than dispersal of wealth and power.
Nair : Let's say that it's the former alternative. The person is not charismatic enough and the masses do indeed go back to their own lives. But, don't you think that a determined person in power can initiate the winds of change?
Cat : Of course, there would be some noises in the initial phase. Apparent major changes here and there. But then, as time passes, each change would be of diminishing marginal utility and nothing more than a political gimmick. Human habits would re-assert itself. No human being can work selflessly. He works for his own happiness.
Nair : I beg to differ. What about Mother Teresa, Gandhiji and others like them?
Cat : Religion. The concept of God, Heaven and Hell. Their happiness being somehow wired with the happiness of others and thereby blurring the lines of selflessness and selfishness. Power. Money. Sometimes, even publicity and fame do their bit. It is interesting that you brought out the example of Gandhiji. He stood for certain values. It was widely perceived by the masses that independent India would follow his principles. However, the other leaders including Ambedkar and Nehru thought it impractical and what followed were Nehruvian idealism. Of course, that bit dust as well. The same principle that would eventually apply to Kejriwal. Gradually whatever changes he will bring about, would revert back.
Nair : If what you are saying is true, then progress would not have been made anywhere. For instance, the Scandinavian countries are known for their corruption free environment.
Cat : And, do you think that it came through the efforts of one movement or one personality?More importantly, what makes you think they progressed from A to B? They could have been corruption free throughout history.
Nair : But, if what you are saying is true, the Indian society would eventually collapse into chaos. It is not. Maybe, it's the efforts of people like Kejriwal which keep it going even though the effects of such efforts gradually diminish. When they do diminish, somebody else steps in. It's like a sine wave.As it is said in Mahabharata by Yudhishtra, it's the effort of the lawful that keeps the society going even though there is an overwhelming tendency for it to collapse.
Cat : Your sine wave is an apparent one. What holds the society together is greed itself and not the good heart of the lawful. Greed creates a framework which prevents it from collapsing onto itself. All laws and the principles of good governance arise from this greed and consequently they are bent in such a manner so as to extract maximum profit without collapsing the society. How do they arise from greed? For example, if there are no laws relating to property, then it would be too chaotic for anyone to benefit. Similarly, if there is no semblance of good governance, the government will get voted out in the next election. Even the masses vote for subsidies and personal benefits as I have already mentioned earlier.
Nair : But, even if something can come out of greed, if good governance can arise out of..
Cat : I know where this is going. As I already told you, greed creates a framework so as to just prevent it from collapsing. But, anything beyond that is bendable.
Nair : So, according to you, this is all pointless.
Cat : Well, you can choose to ignore everything, of course. Wear AAP caps. Hit the social media praising the game-changers in Indian politics. You can buy some brooms and make some voluntary donations. Then, of course, you can all go back to life.
Nair : We'll have lunch now and this argument does not end. I am sure there is a logical fallacy in your argument. And even if there are none, I have faith in the AAP. For the very first time, a party is standing for a set of ideals that people can respect. You can harp on your pessimistic logic but you cannot deny that faith of ordinary people like me.
Cat : I am sure someone said what you told me now, of religions, a long time ago. Look what that got humanity into. And, yes, we'll resume after lunch.

Jimmikki Kammal

The train journey was not even slightly similar to the ones in literature. It was afternoon. Heat and Humidity(a Kerala specialty) was bearing down on everybody in the cabin. There were none of that romantic wisps of white puffy smoke. It was a diesel train. Raghu was sitting near the window, looking outside in a forlorn manner. A beautiful young lady sitting opposite to him was reading a magazine with high levels of concentration. It also appeared to the onlooker that she had a firm intention of avoiding Raghu. What would not easily appear to the onlooker, was the fact that they were husband and wife. The Island Express would arrive at Kollam by around 3:00 pm.

"What do you mean by 'I resigned' ?" Isha asked. Her decibel levels were rising. " Who will pay the housing loan? We are hardly able to make ends meet in Bangalore. Vattaayo? Or did you win some lottery?"

"I got bored with my job."he replied calmly. 

"Are you planning to join some other company?"

"No. I haven't decided what to do next."

She became hysterical. " You think life is some novel, don't you? Manushya, tell me one thing. Who will pay the loans now? Shall I have to feed you from my money? What are you going to tell amma?"

That was three weeks ago. Now, they were going to his native place in Kollam. His mom had invited them. He hadn't told his mom about the recent developments in his career life. Isha had taken a week's vacation even though they were barely on talking terms. And that he suspected was more because she loved his mom rather than anything else. Again, one of those typically anti-storyish saas-bahu relationship.And he knew who made it not so typical. Raghu smiled. His thoughts went back to his college days.

It was the second day of the college cultural fest. He along with Ani, had won the sports quiz for the home team. It had finished an hour ago. Both of them were in a jubilant mood. It had been a tight finish. And now, they were relaxing at the audi where the debating competition was going on. There was a rumour floating around that the home team consisted of a first year charakku, not much seen during the ragging sessions. A debating event which would otherwise have hardly any spectators, now had before it, a jam packed audi. The teams were coming in. Six of them. Twelve members each. Only two females. One of them was in churidar( And therefore could be ignored safely). But the other one. She had stolen the show even before she had reached the stage. Fair. Curly, bobbed hair. A nose ring. One single ear ring. An hour glass figure. She was wearing tees and three-fourths. It was an anathema. It was forbidden. And every male in the audience had made up his mind, who his first/next/last girlfriend in college life would be. 

The train screeched to a halt at Karunagapally. His thoughts went to his recent act of rebellion with his career. He had quit a perfectly well paying job at TCS. But, terming it a rebellion would be a misnomer. He did not quit his job because he wanted to do something dashing with life. For instance, climbing Mt. Everest. Or, starting an NGO to help destitute children. He could not picture himself doing both of that. He wasn't the dashing kind. This was not literature for such things to happen. He quit the job because he was bored with it. It had become a torture. He did not want to take up the same line of work again. But, he had no clue as to what his next step would be. Even after three weeks. There was only one thing he knew for sure. He did not have any dreams of changing the world. He was not the dashing kind. Unlike her, he thought, as he noticed her alternating furiously between shooting dark glances at him and feigning ignorance.

She was always the one who took  the initiative. It started with friendship and then blossomed into something else. She dropped a bucket load of hints before he finally got the drift and proposed to her. And that itself was a very long drawn process. He almost made a fool of himself, before she cut it short and rescued both of them from public embarrassment. And, she had done it with her characteristic elegance. She would also be the one dragging him out of classes, behind the professor's back, to go watch a movie or take a walk in the park.  She also took initiative for their first kiss. They were behind a bush in the park and he was worried about getting caught. So, he could only reach halfway and stay motionless with his quivering lips and his eyes darting everywhere else except her. Nobody in college understood the dynamics of their relationship. One of his batchmates put it across him succinctly. "Ithorumathiri pottanu lottery adicha pole aanallo." It was not a Mills n Boons romance.

They had arrived at Kollam. Amma was waiting at the station along with their servant. Isha got out, kept the suitcase on the platform and gave her a hug."Amma, enthundu?" She never called her ammayi. She hated the word and thought it was highly colloquial. "Prethekichu Onnumilleda. How long are you kids going to stay here?" Amma had been an English teacher and had only retired recently. Even after they retire, English teachers won't completely go back to Malayalam with their progeny. It will always be Manglish. "One week, Amma. We have both taken leave."Raghu replied. He could sense much darker stares being directed at him. "Nallathu. If you kids are not tired, innu rathri ashramam maidanathe pooram kaanaan pokaam." "Okay, amma."she replied. 

The rest of the day went by in a jiffy, the timeline broken in between with the usual fiasco of amma trying to feed them more than they could eat for lunch and the various nosy neighbours visiting them to see whether Isha's stomach was showing any increase in its dimensions. He could never understand why people thought it was their business to ensure everybody had babies. It seemed more than just ridiculous. By around 6:00 pm, he, Isha and Amma took to Puthiyakavu Bhagawathy Ambalam and Asramam Maidanam in their old family car.

The festivities had begun by the time they reached there. Amma and Isha went inside the Bhagawathy Ambalam to take part in the procession which would initially circle the temple and come to the maidanam. He told them that he would wait near a couple of small makeshift shops in the maidanam. He did not have much faith in any religion. And Isha had it lesser than him. But, she loved pooram and such festivities. He could see the tuskers from where he stood. They were decorated with their nettipattom, separated into two groups and were getting ready for the kudamattom. It was steadily getting darker.

He struck up a casual conversation with one of the shop owners. " Onnu randu varshatinulil ividem orupaadu maari alle?"  "Athe sir. Pakshe Pooram pazhaya pole thanne." He took a closer look at the wares in his shop. Among the many pottu, necklaces and valas, his eyes chanced upon a pair of jimmikki kammal. "How much?" "100, saare." He dug into his wallet. When you go even three weeks without a job, it usually shows on your wallet. People tend to splurge away the anxiety or the boredom. The effort hardly succeeds except for draining the wallet further. He hardly had much. But, he bought it anyway. He messaged Isha to come meet him. The chendamelam had already started. So, he gave her a miscall as well.

She came about ten minutes later. She was wearing a blue churidar. He had taken care to select something which matched with it. She came towards him and asked"What? Why did you call me here?" He smiled and took her hand. The furious look suddenly returned. "What are you doing?" That was a bit loud. And loud enough, to attract curious glances from passerbys. Malayalis loved watching live soap operas. He placed the pair of jimmikki kammal onto her palm and smiled. Her face softened a bit.

And then the creases returned. She lashed out at him. "You think a pair of earrings can make peace between us or make money grow and lessen our debts. Kayyil ollathum kuude kalla, buying all these stuff." She shoved the earrings onto his hand and walked back. It took some time for the dazed look to wear off Raghu's eyes. He looked at the pair of jimmikki kammal.  At that inopportune moment, the vedikettu started. And the rockets flew into the sky, bursting into a glorious shower of lights. He gazed at that spectacular fiesta, the hallmark of all such festivities in Kerala and wondered to himself whether anything ever happens like what's written in literature.

The Gigantic Domino

I see you, standing in front of that gigantic domino piece with a large number of similar pieces arranged in series one behind another.

The 12th grade student, offered a choice of Engineering and Medicine. Or something else so that, avan Chartered Accountant aakum or IAS ezhuthum. Status. Money. Our son should climb the ladder. Entha that Led Zeppelin song. Stairway to Heaven.

A beautiful woman wanting to try out a new dress and then putting it back into the wardrobe. Malayali culture-inu pattiyathalla. The inability to walk somewhere public because of the commenting and hooting that ensues. And the stares. See, she's wearing it. She must be okay with the commenting and hooting. She deserves it. We must protect our malayali culture at all cost. She deserves it.

The software consultant, who intelligently uses his salary to pay up loans, with which he bought land. Land is safe. The price value of land will appreciate as time passes. Enniku sixty cent undu. Ninnako? I love MS-Excel. I am a part of the Indian software boom. You don't know Excel? I will teach you.

I am a teenager/pre-adult and I love you the moment I saw you. No, I do not need to know you. I do not need to know the person you are. I will declare my love towards you and then we can get to know each other. Well you are a charakk and you need to be loved. Dating and all, western concept. Dating will result in babies. We do not want that. It has to be a charakk. It has to be love.

I am a parent and I know my daughter's preference. I can search those matrimonial sites and get her a groom. Nobody needs to teach me anything about that. See, I am giving her a choice. I am giving her four photos and she can pick one. If she doesn't like them, I 'll give her four more photos. Pinne, jataka porutham venam. Another caste. My friend allowed. I went to their wedding. Myself, I do not know. Religion is an absolute no.

Marriage should be early. Don't wait too much. Males become sterile after thirty. Females after twenty seven. The earlier the better. Multiplication becomes easier, if it is early.

Communism is about creating traffic jams. Gandhi said if you have to change this country, you should create traffic jams. That's why we are marching up and down for the citizen's benefit. All those rocks hurled and water cannons fired and glasses broken will result in a better country.

Audi. Rolls Royce. Yamaha R1. I have money. I earned it and therefore I can flaunt it. I do not care if anybody stereotypes me. What contrast are you talking about? The beggar on the roadside. Well he should have gone to a private school, studied and made something out of his life. But you are right. I will flip him a five rupee coin. Hmm. Thank you for pointing it out. Now I feel happy. I'll flip a fiver every time I see a beggar. Inner peace.

I do not believe in that broom party. This is India, you know. Everything stays put here. And therefore nobody trying to even act a bit differently should be given a chance. The seat should be reserved for the moustache decorated, paan chewing, white shirt and mundu/dhoti wearing sixty year old with a large belly.

Of course, religion is the start and end of it. Nobody should cross that line. Nobody should say anything insensitive against any community. Humans can come later. Questioning can come later. Talking can come later. Let's raise our swords for our religion and cut off heads. The scriptures demand it.

Let's start teaching them how to be proper from school itself. Let them grow with playtoys and ayahs only. Let's ban the word SEX. Sexu. ayye. Sexu. Chee Chee. God will teach them or their moral science teacher. Let's avoid anything that is uncomfortable. Sex. Rape. Adolescence. We'll teach them mathematics. Of course, I need to raise my land from sixty cents to one acre. For the kids. They can learn everything else from that fat ammachi shakeela or her foreign versions. But never forget to shhh when they ask embarrassing questions. They'll grow up coveting the you-cannot-see-or-speak-about-apple. Sexu. Let the society also teach them quotation and kolavili. That money and power, no eagle can fly over. It's a hard world out there. They need it.

I see you standing in front of that gigantic domino, bringing your index finger towards it even if you are doing it with a lot of hesitation. To push it down. To start the chain. And in you, lies our salvation.

The Caricature Project #1

I will eventually blog about the why. For now, it would be sufficient to say that I have always been fascinated by faces and the people behind those faces. So I thought I would paint potraits with words.

He looked as old as the Aravallis. Perhaps, his crisp brown suit was intended to counter that air of weariness. And all it did was highlight rather than hide. He had somehow clambered onto the podium of the air conditioned class at the Civil Service Training Academy and was addressing a batch of around two hundred students. They were curious. Until now, most of the tutors they had seen were a comparatively younger lot and if not for anything, faster and having more fluid locomotive skills. The new tutor was a bit too rickety.

One little fly perched on a nearby window inside the room. Flies prefer the warmth and this little one was no different. It looked out of place in an air conditioned hall and was perhaps trying to figure out what was happening to it. Its bulging eyes kept darting, looking for an escape route. Meanwhile, its movements were visibly slowing.

The crumbled mouth finally broke into a long drawl. "Histttory.." He paused for a moment as if recollecting something. The class waited expectantly. He looked at the map of India near the blackboard and moved towards it. With a wave of his hand over the map, he uttered again "Histtory..is divided into.." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a couple of students moving out of the class. That used to always happen. He would not call them back, of course. He had always let his teaching do the talking for him. He would make his students relive history. He would give them a bird's eye view of the three battles of Panipat, give them a taste of the English treachery, make them swell with pride about the exploits of the mighty Marathas and enrage them with a vivid account of the rape and pillage of Delhi under Nadir Shah.

"And Aaftter Humayun, came Jahangir." He paused. That did not sound right. But, he had already talked about the mighty Akbar and his Din-i-ilahi. His students were glancing at each other rather than at him. He could see more vacant seats. He was perplexed. "So Aurangaazzeb was a puritan. He did not drink." That was important. History was not a series of facts. In fact, history was more about people. People and what they were resulted into history;it shaped and moulded the past. And that was how it should be studied, by studying people. He could hear more laughter from the background. He tried to recollect his last sentence. He began."So Aurangaazzeb was a puritan. He did not drink."

 The little fly was still in the process of hatching a plan. Nearly three-fourth of the class was vacant. The rest of them were indulging in a variety of activities like reading newspapers(preparing for civil service meant that you could ill afford to waste time), playing android games(Or maybe not), sleeping and catching up on the latest UPSC rumours. "Studentss, now write down, what I say. Important." They saw him open his file.

His trusted file. He had already written down the summary of all the classes he would be taking in separate A4's and stored it in that file. At the end of each of his class, he would make his students jot down the summary of the corresponding class. It helped them in the process of retaining it in their memory. This had been how he had done it for around twenty years. He loved the ancient A4's. Of course, minor alterations had to be made now and then to make it correspond to the syllabus. But, history mostly remained the same. He smiled and then frowned. He couldn't seem to find the right A4, the one that had the summary of today's class. He was sure that he had arranged them in order.

It was 1:30 pm and the corridor nearby the entrance of the academy was suddenly filled with students. The morning classes had ended. The conversations of the students wafted through the cold November air.

"Man, total waste of time today." 

"Oh yeah. Then, why did you stay till the end?"
"I thought he would atleast dictate the notes properly. He managed to make a mess out of even that."
"Give him some slack. He's old."
" I am not blaming him. But, what's the director's excuse? We are paying a tremendous amount of fee to this academy."
"Somebody told me that this guy was a renowned professor back in the 90's. Everyone studying history as an optional used to come to him. He had then suffered a heart attack and had stopped teaching. The director basically cajoled him to come back and teach again."

The staff hadn't switched off the AC and it was still chilly inside the hall. The little fly was the sole occupant of the hall now. It's movements were getting slower and that magnificient escape plan was floating further away from it.

The Jack-Fruit Tree

I promised myself that I would neither do one of those sentimental reveries (and make people go "Not again, dude!) nor come back to this blog. Roughly three months passed by and here I am succumbing to the temptation on realising through those random facebook status updates, that my alma mater is reopening for yet another year. Yet another lot of freshers coming in wide eyed. Yet another set of fourth years ready to do the delicate balance between running around to obtain a decent placement and stamping their insignia before they leave.

Right outside my house, there's a jack-fruit. It was there when I moved into my house back in the 90's as a toddler and it was still there when I bid adieu to Kerala for an year or so. When my family constructed our house, there were not many houses in my neighbourhood and Trivandrum had not been not very much exposed to the sudden burst of new age liberalisation and globalisation. And then time zoomed which kind of looked like one of those jazzy photographs taken by the ever increasing hordes of amateur photographers using long shutter exposure(I hope I am right technically.)

And only the tree remained a constant in the equation. So why am I yapping about a jack-fruit instead of getting high and eating some 'chakka chola' for a combo? It's just that I have always loved the things which stayed permanent. You did find people growing along with such things in a hurry to get somewhere and it staying constant, changing little and watching over faithfully as people just zap by it. Quite like the tree, offering plentiful shade and delicious fruits to succeeding generations. Changing little, staying sturdy and strong. Like our alma mater.

It's been only around three months but time seemed to have passed like that picture. Every one of those odd B09- people have been catapulted into maturity(which basically means you are either getting a fat wad of money or you are trying to somehow do another two years of desperate studying-something-somewhere to get into some place). You do have those odd pockets of high density areas or companies where people start wondering whether there is anybody else in the world besides an NIT-Cian. But, mostly it's a bunch of 'once-homies' now having to deal with their own separate life in a gradual phased manner.

And in these frenetic times, I cannot help but remember my jack-fruit of an institution called Yennaite and popularly called  ARe-Yee-Cee and even more popularly known beyond kattangal as "**********  *********". I wish for my batch that there exists things inside that college and storied carved onto that institution that would make people remember us once in a while(i.e things other than dues related to Ragam). Of course, yennaite-ens being yennaite-ens,  I am fairly certain that everything we did would have been dissected.  And the criticisms would probably range from "They burned it. Fuck them. They burned it." to "useless SAC, they were. We'll do it better." to " This guy was okay. That girl was great. But, that one no? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb." But then, I still hope even as generations pass out of that institute and the jackfruit grows older, it would still carry a lingering scent of our years there. The fun we had. The memories we made. And the shit we did. And all those bonds with the juniors. And the good stuff we did for that college.

And, in turn I hope the jackfruit stays tall for years to come. Because the thing that is fairly certain is that people will return to it. For a bit of its shade, when life becomes too annoying.

"Yes, this is a noon for wild men, wild thoughts, wild love.To be here, far away, is torture. Wild feet stirring up the dust, this hot noon, at my home in Malabar, and I so far away. " 

- A Hot noon in Malabar, Kamala Das

PS : Don't judge the mushiness. I reckon I just miss that particular way of life.

What we leave behind - Of closure.

It's pretty hard penning a farewell blog post. 

Why?

Because if somebody matters to you, you would find an umpteen number of ways to keep in touch. And, if it doesn't happen, it wasn't really much of a big deal.  If you loved the place, you would keep revisiting it once in a while. And again, if you did really love this place, you would be taking a part of it with you. Now, if you are taking a part of this place with you, you would keep doing something mad with your life every now and then which would in turn automatically ensure that you stay true to that tag- Yennaite.

So, it's hard penning a farewell because in reality, there isn't one. The tag stays. At the least for people whom it mattered. 

And for the rest of you.

Au revoir, buddy.

It's been fun.

What we leave behind - Of Transitions and Changes

"I wonder how many panels would sprout up for the elections in your final year. I am guessing 5-6 at the very least. It would be fun watching you people beat each other into pulp." somebody once told me. The B09- batch was among other things famous for its uneasy truce. Call it luck or laziness or the work of some animalistic spirit, the comment would never come true.

It would ironically take a year which never talked about unity to do all the things that would remain a dream to the previous batches. Camp Art, for instance, would never have revived and become a success if not for the initiative and enthusiasm of our batch. A Ragam with 1500 registrations, a successfully executed theme, wildly successful pronites, hauntingly beautiful lantern fest and events with new formats would set the standards for the future editions of the same. And, thus we would never conform to predictions made about us.

Provided you do not have the habit of messing up your ID card by tossing it into the washing machine along with your clothes, just take a look at it. It's funny to realise that four years ago we were very different from what we are now. We would never be able to imagine the things that would eventually happen to us four years ago. Relationships would make and break. Love and hate would dance quite a sexy salsa. We would never let go of our ego and pride. And most of us would change under the weight of some good and mostly terrible experiences.

And in about two months the B09- batch would mostly become display pictures on a social networking site to us and our juniors, whose equilibrium would be occasionally  disturbed by a random meet like that of a convocation or an alumni or one among close friends. Some would hardly care. Some would care a bit too much. Most of us would unfailingly stick to our prejudices, hatred and ego clashes. But, life would catch on equally with the entire lot of us.

I recently met a senior from the 2004 REC batch on train. That's the year when REC got converted into NIT-C. He initially started talking about how he was about to dump his unremarkable career of six and a half years at TCS for something more challenging and his eyes lit up when I asked him about college. He would go on and continue talking about clubs, elections, the annual sports meet, badminton tournaments, Saarang, Ragam and much more. He would also talk of a one-placement policy that was not enforced by a department of placement and training but rather initiated by students themselves because they wanted to ensure placements for everybody. When I described to him the new buildings that had sprouted up, he would take the backside of his printed ticket and draw the layout of the old REC. And in his sparkling eyes, I would see the future of many of us.