(Dec 31, 10:45pm)

A visit to your school, especially one with as splendid a campus as St Xavier's, is a rejuvenating experience...

I am down with viral, but did not feel like cancelling my planned visit to Fr Peter...

After a decade long tenure at St Michael's, the principal of our times has returned to Xavier's to take charge of the 10+2...

And what a delightful conversation it was,... from down memory lane talk, recounting interesting anecdotes about us growing up, to our future, and the country's politics...

XXX

Father offered to take me for a round of the campus.. A mix of nostalgia and happy surprises followed as I noticed the changes...

They have renovated the swimming pool... and there's also a stage come up on the assembly grounds..

The new building has an additional floor.. Decaying trees have been felled and several new ones are slowly growing up to gigantic sizes..

There's a kindergarten now... Father took me to the kids' classrooms... the smart boards, wall hangings, the deco, little chairs of many hues... you got such a lively feeling there...

The Christmas decorations were still there, reminding of the festivities that must have been grand...

XXX

It's new year tomorrow.. It's my birthday...

I didn't blog much this year.. though I promised to myself I would... but it's reassuring to know I'm already getting the hang...

Which is nice...

XXX

(December 30, 9:57pm)

Feeling guilty.. I'm holidaying in Patna.. Was scheduled to travel back to New Delhi today, but could not... A hassled journey kept me down, and I wouldn't be able to join work tomorrow..

Patna, in the meantime, is bitterly cold..

XXX

I somehow dragged myself to the Archies gallery near my apartment... opposite of Convent...

The same shop I first visited as an eighth grader when we shifted to this place many, many years ago...

Many, many years.. that sounds dramatic to me.. Wasn't it yesterday.. Muma still in college, teaching Mathematics.. and I in school... making plans for the future...

Plans to become a journalist... with mumma always trying to help me culture my interest in literature.. yet, silently in her mind, sceptical of my choice of career..

XXX

The Archies was a weekend haunt... this double storey shop, along the kindergarten ward of the Convent, with beds of different hues of flowers greeting you, had everything to perk up your leisurely hunt for gift items..

Diaries... table top calendars.. slam books.. tiny to big statues of gods, tribal dancers, Egyptian figures.. wind chimes.. when I was in school, wind chimes were craze.. I don't see many people buying them now.. at least not with same excitement..

XXX

The gentleman at Archies, who has seen me grow up from a school student to journalist, was delighted to see me..

The conversation branched onto many subjects, including politics, and it was not before one hour that I left the shop with a new year diary.. He gave me a Rs 60 discount on an item of Rs 499.. unsolicited..

I wished him happy new year...

XXX

(December 23, 7:42 pm)
Repost from 23 December 2010

It was December 23, 1992..I was young...very young..
but, the memories are clear like marbles..

Since the Gods knew our days were numbered, they bestowed me with sharp memory. They needed to prove they were kind.

XXX

The Babri had just been pulled down, and anticipating the riots, we had left our sprawling cottage-house in Sultanganj, and moved to this place where Muslim population was thin..

Grandmum had tough time convincing mumma, since even her personal tailor and the tax consultant were muslims..

XXX

I despised the house...but since it offered me a view of the main road, from where i could keep a watch for mumma to return, i had agreed it as periodic arrangement..

XXX

So, there i was in the terrace that afternoon, standing under the radiant sun.."Look its approaching four now, she said she'd come by 2," I told my brother, with whom i had played the ludo and hide and seek many times already...and left with no innovations now, had decided to just kill time, looking at the street below..

XXX

Every year, after our schools had closed for winters on December 3rd or 4th, we counted the days for 23rd to arrive..Mumma's last working day!

And with bro's b'de the next day, she'd hurriedly come back from college, dress us up, get us a brunch, and we'd be off shopping...we bought the jackets, we bought the shoes..pairs of denims, santa caps, wind-cheaters..gloves and mufflers to match..story books, toys..the cake, the meat-balls...the list would be endless, because mumma, before she'd come to pick us, would have encashed whatever was left in her bank that day..

XXX

23rd December 1992.
Bro still was waiting for mumma.

XXX

But, I was waiting for the culprit.

XXX

Brightness slowly began to dull, and despair set in like some unsought guest..i was more and more sure she had failed us. Yeah, she'd turn up, but without the money.

Grannie had just told us how we were in for a crisis..how Mumma had first squandered everything, her arrears, her deposits, her NSCs...then indulged in relentless charity..and this magnanimity as if so intoxicating, she hadnt even bothered to draw salary between..

XXX

So unless there was some bounty of magic, we would not have any money for the year end.. Her salary would come only on Jan 2nd, when the university reopened..

Fingers crossed, we waited.
We prayed.
We implored upon the Gods to be kinder..
Else bro's birthday would be wasted.
Even Xmas.
My b'de too, which coincided on New Year.

XXX

But she would not turn up. "Why is she taking so late. Is her salary credited. Why did she have to go looking for it the last day. why dint she draw it three months? And why did she spent all her money away?" I asked irritatingly.

"May be it's credited," bro suggested, not willing to give up.

"In that case she'd have come already."

"May be she is shopping," he tried to reason.

"Without us? No way." I dismissed.

XXX

And then with careless abandon to how it might upset him, asked him again, "Will she come?"

"Not again," he stooped me midway.

"Will she..."

"Will she what," this time he didnt beat around the bush, "She is not dead. Nobody dies just suddenly. But if you believe she has, do it all to the Goddess, please."

XXX

He left.

XXX

I felt better. His outburst had somehow convinced me she was not dead. So i was back the tyrant again. Awaiting the culprit.

XXX

It was a long wait.
The sun God said he'd send the moon to befriend.

XXX

XXX

XXX

From the crossing, she appeared like spring.
And the grace in her walk, undid all the wrongs that were done.

XXX

Who'd say she had been so long into the 40s...
Except the laugh lines, perhaps.
But, they appeared only when she laughed tumultuously.

XXX

She did rarely.

XXX

She was wearing pure-silk saree.
It was finest silk. Grannie's testimony to mumma's indulgence.

XXX

The story goes that in the late 1960s, decent pure silks were available for Rs 120. The classy ones came for 200. But if you were the type who wanted the bride-hunters do talking, you wore a 300..to upset would-be brides, a 350...and to let the men gasping, a 500.

And upon such times, i am told, mumma had bought this sari for 900.
Even professors were paid 800 then, aunts had added.

XXX

To be continued....

(December 17, 3:46pm)

I am seldom convinced when people say they ended a relationship.. or moved on... Truth is, you never can..

If there truly was a relationship, you can not break it unless the relationship breaks itself..

What you do is fill the space between you and the person you loved, or for that matter, a friend you trusted, with new people and situations... To deceive yourself that you have moved on..

You feign indifference... You pronounce that too... But why would you pronounce it, if it really was over?

Fact is, you don't pronounce anything, when somebody or something is really over...

XXX

(Dec 3, 1:54pm)

I am beginning to write again.. Stay tuned.. thanks..

XXX

(Sep 10, 5:58pm)

After a really long time, I am home.. for 16-17 days in fact.. which is a nice feel.. I'm writing a  blog post after many months, and yes, you guessed it right... This is my home's influence..

This 2 bkh, river-view apartment, with its serene feel, moves me and motivates me like nobody else does.. My home and the positive vibes here have the power of a giant..

Gigantic yet pleasant and pacifying... very comforting... There's indeed a great power in memories.. Those of you who have not too many people around will second the thought.. Profound memories can drive you to do big things...

When I was 13 or 14, the other apartments on my 7th floor were under construction.. When masons would be gone, I would steal into those unfinished flats to have a better glance of the holy river Ganges..

From the rear balcony, in our flat, the view was partial.. An end of the river was all that was visible... you mistook it to be a pond..

XXX

On Sunday afternoons when Mum would be asleep after lunch and brother catching up movies on HBO, I would steal into those unfinished flats, and write my high school essays or do English literature workbook assignments..

The workbook assignments were mostly critical appreciations... you were required to evaluate the verses and the short stories.. with an element of philosophy, of course...

When I would sit atop some under-construction window wall, with my heart and sight fixed into the serene river, some of the best sentences would happen.. I would be able to write thought-provoking summaries.. and the teacher, Mr Matthew, would be very happy the next day..

Time flew and I left home for studies in different cities... It has been many years since the end of the river, which was visible from our rear balcony, dried up...

If you wish to see the Ganges, you go to the terrace... This time, there's a flood.. and the river has flowed in towards the west, enabling us a grand view again... after a decade long interval.. reminding me of my beautiful high school days... the boats are plying again, too...

XXX

Right now, it's a beautiful feel being at home.. I would be leaving tomorrow night, though... I'm in the living room... Reclining in an arm chair that I have dragged from a corner of the sitting parlour into the centre of the hall..

I'm facing the windows that open up to the river outside.. There's a pleasant wind blowing... There's a small pooja corner at the other end, beside the cluster of windows.. In some time, I would lit the 'diya' and do an 'aarti'.. We call it 'shonde' in Bengali.. Tea would follow..

Mum's no more here... but her portraits are hung all around in the ornate walls.. and there are strong memories..

XXX

There's not been much activity in the last two weeks in home.. I wake up late, take an English breakfast.. the maid cleans and arranges the house.. cooks lunch and leaves by 11:30.. By that time, I leave too..

Sometimes for idle shopping in some far-off mall... on other days, to visit mumma's friends or some family acquaintance..

I specially liked visiting Mrs Ghosh, the former principal of my mom's college, now in her mid 80s.. but agile enough to be a sporting host and delight you with her conversation... She taught History at the university but has more interest in English literature...

Which is why it clicks..

I visited her at her quaint, old bungalow at the centre of the city yesterday.. It's nestled at the end of a lane off the main road, and hence the noise of the traffic is not able to infringe in your heart-to-heart conversation..

There are a lot of trees there, some peeping into her leaving room... We talked for two hours... She pressed me to stay back for lunch, but I wanted to be home sooner..

She lived alone there untill only last month, when her daughter moved into her place with her two sons.. the older grandson had secured admission in a top 10+2 school in Patna, and her daughter decided to relocate to her native city...

XXX

All these days, after my noon outings would be over, I would come back home to have lunch and enjoy my afternoon siesta.. In the evening I seldom went out...

I cooked my dinner most of the time... Prawns... chicken... one day, I cooked noodles..

XXX

(April 30, 2:33pm)

Looking forward to a good Sunday, tomorrow..

Few school friends from Bangalore are in town, and we have planned a meet up... Watch a movie, may be..

Completely lost touch with the blog for sometime, but hope to write more frequently.. Certain plans are taking shape, and I needed to be discreet..

So hadn't been blogging really..

XXX