Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Colours

She took a drag at the cigarette. It was gratifying to see fire; wild and feral, tamed by her fingertips; the only thing she had now control on …

She was sitting in a dark room, propped against wall. She was staring at the ceiling but not looking at it. She was looking far beyond it; very far … some four years back …

She was talking to her bench-mate when her Science teacher came inside and asked them to submit their practical journals. They had seen preserved samples of few insects and small animals a week before and had been asked by their teacher to draw them and write about their anatomy in their journals. She submitted her journal along with others. Her teacher started correcting them the moment she got them. ‘You have drawn very well … they look almost alive. I never knew you draw so well,’ the teacher had said seeing her drawings. Even she, herself, did not know this. She was the topper of the class, quite effortlessly. She was not exactly nerd, but she enjoyed reading. She had never tried her hand at anything else. However when she had sat to draw these insects and animals, she had done that also quite … effortlessly. The drawings, although had taken lots of time, had left her quite refreshed.

Drawing became an occasional part of her life after this. Whenever she felt tired, she would draw and paint. By the time she reached tenth, painting had become a regular feature. Her parents thought of this new interest as her medium to de-stress. Her paintings, though few, were very much appreciated by her teachers and friends. She could make the colours dance to her tunes, express the emotion she felt, bring her thoughts to life; she felt peace with colours.

High school was busier than before. She had taken mathematics as well as biology which left her with little time to play with colours. Although she had lost her once immense interest in reading, it didn’t affect her marks as studying and scoring came effortlessly to her. Her heart was now in painting. She would see a beautiful landscape and she would draw, she would imagine a scene and she would draw, she would have a sudden idea and she would draw. She always had been shy and her intelligence was envy of many, leaving her lonely. But she had found her solace in painting; painting had become a passion for her.

Soon it was time for filling out various forms for entrance examinations but she had not noticed it. Her parents had brought various forms and filled them for her. All she had done was signing them. She was eagerly waiting for NID forms; she had decided for it with all her heart - she would become an artist. She had become calm and peaceful. There was a special glow about her. She was completing her high school in a detached way; she wanted to be an artist as soon as possible.

Her parents had noticed the changes in her daughter – her calmness, her serenity.

‘She is loving medical,’ her mother told her father one day, ‘she will become a great doctor.’

‘How can she not be, when all her family comprises of doctors only,’ her father had replied proudly.

He wanted her daughter to be a doctor and that was what she would become; he had no doubt about it. He had always given her daughter the freedom she needed. He would have steered her in the right direction had she become distracted. Luckily, such a need never rose.

She bought the NID form, filled it herself and posted it. This was her first step in fulfilling her dreams. It did not strike her to tell her parents about it; she was living in her won world. She was eagerly waiting for her NID admit card; what if she had wrongly filled the form, what if she never gets her admit card, what if it got lost on the way …

She was preparing for her pre-board examinations in her room. Ting tong. She got up as there was no one else at home to answer the door bell. There stood two courier guys with a brown envelope each. She signed and closed the door. First was her aiims admit card; she couldn’t recall sending the form. She tossed it onto the table. The second one was … NID Admit Card. Gosh! Is this true? She had finally got the entry ticket to her dream world. She was so happy today … so happy …


When her parents came back from work that night, they found a very happy daughter. Soon they found the source of her happiness when they saw her AIIMS Admit Card. They smiled to each other.

She had just got over with her board examinations. She now needed to focus on her NID entrance exam. She was getting anxious. And there was only one way to relieve the tension – paint. She was painting almost daily. Her parents could feel the anxiety of her daughter; she was painting daily to de-stress.

Just when it was about time for her entrance exams to start, her grandfather died. Her parents were in a dilemma; they did not want to leave her alone at this crucial point but they had their duties to perform. She convinced them to go as she could easily handle the situation. Having full confidence on their daughter, they left. She had her AIIMS exam first, which she found quite easy. But her stomach was all butterflies when she went for NID exam. However, the moment she got the question paper, she relaxed. When she got out of the hall, she was sure that she will pass this one.

Days passed and soon it was time for results of the entrance examinations. She had gone to meet her grand mother. Her parents came back from work and saw two brown envelopes in the mail slot. Her father picked up the first. It was result card of AIIMS examination. He tore it open. His daughter had got an All India Rank of thirty-five. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he hugged his wife. This was the news he had been waiting for so many years. He was so happy. He had forgotten about the second envelope and only his wife’s question brought it back to his attention. He tore it open. His first thought was that it belonged to some one else. How else could he explain his daughter’s All India Rank of one in NID examination when she had not given one? However, on further scrutiny he concluded that it was indeed his daughter’s. Why had she given NID exam? Why didn’t she tell us? How can it be? She used to paint only to de-stress. No doubt she was excellent in that but she wanted to be a doctor. WE want her to be a doctor.

Soon she was back at home. What followed was a nightmare for her. Somehow, she had never thought of her parents’ rejection to her chosen career. They had always allowed her to follow her own choices. Why, then, they were not ready to let her choose NID over aiims? Her dream world was shattered. She tried explaining her parents; she couldn’t. How could she explain the happiness, the comfort, the joy, the spiritual serenity around her she felt when she was in her world of colours? How could she counter the arguments of difficulties and struggle required of an artist compared to lucrative career of a doctor? How could she ignore the happiness, dreams and joys of her parents?

And she couldn’t. She gave in. She stripped colours out of her life. She smashed her dream. Who else was responsible but her?

From the hall below came the light music that was going on in the party. Party … to celebrate her admission to AIIMS. The music held no meaning to her. Nothing held meaning to her anymore.

She took another drag, tilted her head to look at the brush she was holding in her other hand. It was soaked in colour - blood red. What was she trying to paint? She didn’t know. She felt numb. Was this mental numbness or physical? She didn’t know. She felt the darkness closing in, engulfed by the forces unseen, overcome by the silence unheard of …

She let the brush drop to the floor, which splattered the blood-red colour everywhere and then ... she closed her eyes …



P.S. To all those who wanted to know about the oral sex class in our graduation, refer to the comments of last blog. I explained it to someone there.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Nostalgia

Today was an important day. All around me was a big crowd, smiling, laughing, chatting, hugging each other and what not. Not that I was all alone, standing in a corner, observing everyone. No; I was a part of that crowd, smiling, talking to them, nodding to whatever they were saying (it must be fitting well as no one frowned upon me). Still I was far away ... too far away … five years back, to be precise. I stepped out of the ground and started walking. Where was I going? No idea. But five minutes later, I found myself at my college gate. I couldn’t stop myself from stepping inside, not only the college but down the memory lane.

First day at the college, a no-one in the big crowd, unknown to everyone and everything around…

In next to no time, busy with classes, never-ending tests, scary semester exams…

Those hopeless practicals, where we would wait for the whole day for our doomed colourimeter to give us a reading which would fetch us a scowl and C grade from teacher…

Those pre-journal-submission-sessions in reading room, where we would compare our readings, manipulate them, paste chits on wrong information to hide mistakes and proudly submit our seemingly clean journal two days later than due date…

What about spending useless hours in library searching for an appropriate book to get appropriate notes for appropriate grades and end up missing the test itself?

Haven’t forgotten that adventurous semester where we all got screwed up for complaining against our HOD’s Ph.D student who unfortunately taught us Biochemistry. Wait! Did she teach us? Naah … Just told us to cram the stuff about to come in exam set by herself…

How about those interesting Killer-Killer sessions in the parking lot…

Or that historic class where we were taught about contraceptives and a girl innocently asks our encouraging teacher an innocent question – What is oral sex?

Participating in the annual function where we got more famous for our clash with the convener than our Holi dance…

Faking the patients for our internship just because we were too lazy to move our asses and still managing an O…

Celebrating Holi with friends, sadak naapna, footpath pe baith ke bheekh maangna, and having lunch with that breath-taking make-up on…

Chat and chat and chat till the peon comes and literally throws us out of the classes. So, what do we do? Sit on the staircase and dedicate songs for guys coming for evening classes…

Attending practical classes where we were told the importance of boy-friends in hostelites’ life by our teacher…

Bunking classes, missing tests, getting late for practicals, sleeping during the seminars…

Night stays on the pretext of studies, where we explored our wild sides…

Booze and fag and discussion sessions where we would discuss the meaning of our life, uselessness of our college, ineptness of our teachers, criticize our parents for their restrictions, instead of studying for the test next day…

Cooking practicals where rains would wickedly add water to our nasty recipes through the leaking roofs and wash out our already bleak grades…

And then came a time, jab humne grades, classes, notes, practicals ki moh-maya ko tyaag diya. After all we had grown up…

So many memories, so much time, so much fun … all came to an end today. Maybe it’s like that … life moves on … memories imprinted in mind … stealing a glance at them every now and then. Maybe I will get a chance to re-live them. Maybe …