Kinshuk Sunil

Two Years. Seven Hundred and Thirty One days. Seventeen Thousand Five Hundred and Twenty Hours. Over. The End.

I, today, stand at that juncture in one’s life whence one phase ends and a new one begins. Ancient Indian System divides the life of any individual into four phases: Brahmacharya (Student phase; implies Discipline), Grihasthashrama (living in the material world), Vanprastha (Retired from responsibilities) and Sanyasa (renunciation), each lasting a period of twenty five years. A students life ought to be that of self-discipline and a guided effort towards learning - Brahmacharya. It is this phase that I cross now and enter into the material world. Soon, I’d start working. Life will be so different then.

But, before I start running the rat race I want to take a pause. Stop and pen down my thoughts here. So that when I grow older, I can always return here and remind myself how I used to be as a student. More particularly the two years that were GBO.

I came to GBO as a disheveled lad - deluded and demented. Trying to find his grip on life and stay in control of affairs. Not to keen on pretences and impressions. I remember my orientation day; how I tried to play smart with my seniors and was ragged by made to dance. The song was "Woh Lamhe" from the movie "Zeher". It was particularly famous two years ago. The following days are a blur to me.

Classes: that of Dr. PC Jain and Gopalji are a special memory. So is Mr. Sachdeva’s class. He taught us well - kept the subject interesting but also ensured that students need to work a bit to understand the subject in its totality. That was first semester. Sweet. I even started writing a fictional text on my experiences at GBO. Wrote 12 pages of it. 12 that were never to be finished. I managed going on. Kapoor sirs classes were fun; he had the peculiar habit of befriending students and keep the otherwise dull subject of maths, quite interesting.

By this time I befriended the friends I would keep with me forever. Some in person, some in memories. I especially liked the frequent quarrels (read: mismanaged arguments) with Ms. Daddu (a toad; froggy). The best one was when we quarrelled on her habit of not being regular in picking up calls. I now laugh on the timidity of those issues and how I successfully managed to strain our relationship.

Then there was Lalit. He reminds me of sages of the bygone era. Very passionate for sports, I will always remember him motivating all of us to go to the field and play cricket. That and his honest attempt at living.

I will also remember Manish, Varun and Jitender but I hope that more than remembering them, I’ll manage to stay with them in person. The first two out of the trio have got their jobs in Delhi, while hopefully Jitender will work in Delhi too. I pray so.

Jitender was like the village elder in my friend circle. Oldest and Wisest, he presided over our meetings; he channelised our thoughts and aspirations. Varun, kept the moods lighter and chipped in with his singularly articulate biological bearings. Manish was and will always be my Angry-Young-Man. He is a bundle of emotions - intense emotions. And he gets flooded by them.

Other than these, the two years saw a number of classmates come into close contact then fade away. Surabhi was amongst the only few who maintained their position throughout the two years. Short, Cute and Bubbly, she and I shared similar taste of music and she still has to give me a CD with Hoobastank and similar artists on it.

GBO had its own culture - a chilled out and relaxed yet frenzy one. Semesters would fly by and exams were the only thing that ever happened. Some of these have rubbed on to me. I hope some has rubbed on from me to GBO too.

Now that I think of it, I don’t remember way too much of these two years. But that has to do more with my forgetfulness than these two years being uneventful. But I do remember the exhilaration I felt, when I first walked down the hallowed halls of Shri Ram College of Commerce - the institution where the creme-de-la-creme studied. Those moments would always be imprinted on my mind. Those and the ones that I used to spend I the college grounds in solitude with beetles and ladybugs, squirrels and Mynas.

This post has lost structure, organisation and focus and yet I shall post it without any editing or re-drafting, because I want to preserve the purity of the emotions that I feel right now - whenever I try to recollect the days I spent at GBO and everything that I gained and all that I lost in these two years.

I will post more on this later. I also have to talk a bit about my juniors and to share some moments of my GBO with you.

regards
Kinshuk Sunil

Yesterday, I was travelling from my home at Indirapuram to Gurgaon, just after the heavy winds and the light drizzle that brought a much-needed respite from the heat and humidity of summers. The pleasant weather was a blessing after everything we delhites have to duffer from in the name of summer.

So, my route to Gurgaon was: Indirapuram-Delhi-Gurgaon. Now, when you travel to Delhi from Indirapuram you have to cross the river Yamuna (if you can still call it a river in this part of the land). Just as you approach Yamuna on the Nizamuddin bridge, there is a stretch of about 2 kilo meters of farmlands on the erstwhile riverbed of Yamuna. I love this stretch. It has a tranquility, a serenity to offer which I covet.

There is a little thatched hut there, just before the river starts, which I have observed quite regularly. I have seen its inhabitants work around the hut in the fields and make a living. In the nearby (makeshift) market at the entrance to the commonwealth village, I have seen them sell their produce. Their’s is a life I would want to live for some period of time - without haste, without rush, without the impeding tensions of the routine, fast-paced, urbane life.

As I reached the hut yesterday, I observed the lady of the house lying in a cot with her kids sitting at the edges, under the thatched roof troubled by the light drizzle seeping in through the roof. My mind-set until that instance was: what bliss it would have been to witness the rains through this hut; in this land.

But as I observed them, sadness engulfed me. They are not there by design, but by default. And it let me to a realisation:

Things that we desire, covet, aim for in life; things that would really make us happy and satisfied with the lives that we have led; things that we want just like that thatched hut for me, are only meaningful till the time they are not our realities, but an excursion from the reality we live in. it is in their not being true that we have the ambition to convert them into reality. it is the challenge of having something that is not yet yours but desired by you. It is the carrot on the stick that keeps you running.

That hut has its importance for me because I want to escape from my reality into it for some time - not forever. It would have been bliss for me to experience the rains from that hut, but not to live their forever. That family desires a roof over their heads which would save them from the rain. For them the rain in that hut is not a bliss, nor an adventure, but only a problem they cannot resolve.

I realised that what we desire most are things we can never have. That itself is the source of the strong desire. It is the achieving of such unachievables that makes life worthwhile. However, I concede: Some dreams, should always remain dreams; else sleeping wouldn’t remain worthwhile. The Little Thatched Hut is a dream that keeps me going, not because I want that life but because I want it to be a part of my life.