Garg Ka Swarg

A little obfuscated as you might be by the title, I can only say , if there could be a Khosla ka Ghosla, then why not a 'Garg Ka Swarg' per se. 

Over time I've always realised how obnoxious a family we are. And I don't mean it in a bad sense really. There have always been certain floating characteristics that have differentiated each member of this family , not only from each other, but every other soul that exists. In short , we're pretty much a set of people, with mutually exclusive tastes and characteristics, trying to fit under one roof. As I wait for distant relatives, who're all set to arrive with their Band Baaja Baarat , seeing everybody running around from one corner to the other, only exemplifies my case, or should I say 'our' case.

I might as well start off with dad. The real 'Papa Garg' you see. Dads are such intriguing things. Such coconut characters. They always have to pretend to have a hard outside, albeit a softer inside. Isn't that the case with all dads? Maybe. The keepers of all available plastic money, dads, always command a little respect. Respect given. Moving on to Bubbly. The, perpetually at verbal war with me, Bubbly. I think she's another coconut , just a little harder on outside, and a little softer on the inside. If only one could penetrate her feminist ego, which I do, rather frequently, one could see the soft her. Just for the record, Bubbly is my mom.

Sometimes, I feel so surrounded by emotional women. They don't realise, while they're trying to put in an emotional point, I'm mentally denigrating their entire species. That someday, all the women in my life will connive together and kill me, is an undisclosed nightmare. That someday, all these women, will leave in  complete peace and harmony, is another. Where will all the enti come from if it happens? :-}

At the look of things , I'm the lone 'nut' in this house of coconuts. 

Random Regrets

At the obvious risk of screwing up Mobile Communication tomorrow, I'm writing this post with an earnest desire to freak out and start studying. So far , it ain't happening. The thought that it's the last exam makes it terribly hard to study, the thought that it's the last ''engineering exam'' makes it look like something may be I won't be able to express. There are days when you want to study, days when you have to study, and then there are days like today, when you just can't. So what do you do in such circumstances: you talk.

It's always a little mysterious to write without a topic in hand. May be that's the way exams are. All one wants to do, is to not think about them, and all one doesn't , is to not forget then entirely. It languishes somewhere in the corner of the neural networks, but it's always there.

If only I knew, that there were so much happening behind a simple phone call, I'd have considered making a phone call, a process equivalent to shaking up a coalition government. But whatever.You-gotta-do-what-you-gotta-do, eh?  Still 20 hours to go before this last over in the innings of engineering, and here I am talking about something.

May be I should talk about something I regret having done, so much so, that if there was anything that I'd have wanted to go back in time and do differently, and I mean anything, then that would be it. I do have one such story.

It was a day to go for the first midsem when a random plan to drink with friends sprung up. It wasn't a plan I initiated, but it wasn't one I wasn't enthusiastic about. I sat on the driver seat with music playing at a volume that was audaciously audible. That's what the idea of getting drunk does to you. You begin losing your sanity ,even before you have it. At least I do. If my memory supports me well, it was a narrow lane in the sector-4 market of Dwarka, when I broke all hell loose with the accelerator. I was driving too fast, but I knew I was in control. It was a sudden something that came in front, and screeeech came the brakes ! Stopped just in time. At the outset, yes, it had all the ingredients of a terrible accident. I sat at driver seat, unaffected, rather unperturbed. 

It would perhaps have been my apathy that sparked off a man watching it all, standing at the side of the road. I still remember his face. He must be a decade older than my father, tall and carried a french beard. In short, moderately sophisticated. "Is this the way to drive?" , he said with an ignominy in his tone. It was all too justified , both the question and the ignominy.  For a minute there, I was taken aback. It wasn't something I was used to. Not in front of friends for sure. That's what ego does to you, it makes you an arrogant fool. In this rush of arrogance I replied : " Yes , it is."  I knew he was expecting an apology, and I was too weak to give him one. 

He was offended. Had I been him, I'd have been too. I remember having rushed the car, while he kept speaking something, something I don't even want to recall. The only part I do remember though was about what a ruptured upbringing my parents had given me. In one moment, all that my parents had done for me, taught me, was squashed with my false sense of propriety. 

For a minute everybody sat in the car in silence, just to get to terms with the fact that somebody amongst them had the guts to misbehave to this extent. I wore my mask of apathy as usual. I was ashamed, and I so bloody knew it. Fuck I was ashamed of myself. I felt like stopping the car and banging my head against the wall. Obviously, to express regret explicitly isn't a trait I share. Perhaps it's too afflicting on the male ego.

I could elaborate more, but I don't have that much time. I have an exam , remember ! Even today when I'm idling ,the horrors of that incident haunt me. As the memory retraces itself to that day, it sends chills down my spine. There is a sullen inclination to whack yourself hard. So hard , that you may finally be able to forgive yourself for it. Perhaps I'm not that strong, neither physically nor morally.

You may not believe me, but I must have thought so many times to go to that very place, find that person, just so that I can fold my hands in shame and apologize. It's just the chances of finding him seem too scarce and the notion too weird.

What use is all the success in the world if one feels ashamed to apologize at one's mistake as and when it happens, and feel ashamed about it his entire life, when the damage seems irreparable. Sometimes, I just can't help being sorry for myself. Sorry uncle. I really am. I hope this blog gets very famous someday, and one of your grand children reads this post and tells you about this guy on the blogosphere who felt terribly regretful to have misbehaved with an elderly man, and some supernatural power forces you to read this article. 

What a pleasure it'll be if it happens, the blog getting famous I mean. :P  

Bitter Sweet

It's tough to start a day with nostalgia, believe me , it really is. It's tough to say to oneself that: This is It ! You're on your own now. No more rushing to the college in the morning, no more  metro rides, no more making fun of teachers, no more "See you tomorrow then". The subtle mutiny inside, the mutiny of being an engineering student at NSIT counts its last breath. 

I can't say I've made much out of my college life. A lot of time was just spent in creating a mess, and more time spent cleaning it up. Bad jokes still kept the spirit alive. So much ambition crept up sitting on those white marbles, so much of it died down sitting in the classroom. So much adrenaline flowed through the veins in a JAM, though so much less before an EXAM. Does that rhyme? :P

So, yes, coming back. I'm not digressing today. This is going to be a serious nostalgic post.

It all boils down to this one day, The Mighty Farewell Party. It's not as if I'm not going to meet these people ever. In a place like Delhi, catching acquainted people hanging out in equally acquainted places, isn't too difficult a task. It's a common coincidence you see. But come to think of it, the next time there's got to be a purpose behind everything. There's got to be an agenda of the meeting. Yeah, you could obviously retort :"Who needs a reason to meet friends?" . You're right, may be you don't, but I know I will. It'll take more than sheer will to call up a friend and ask him to meet-up, and it'll take more than courage to write on his wall :"Long time, let's hang out someday". It's hard to imagine myself doing that, but you never know, you know. Solitude makes you do things. 

I'm not ashamed to accept that four years of college life have injected in me more regret, than enthusiasm. But I'm happy that it came in the early stages of life itself. Here on, things are not going to be the same. You can't enter a brawl with a matched indulgence , you can't take a day off at your whim , you can't just bunk and head off for a movie. And of all things, you can't have the liberty of not doing what you didn't want to do. Here on, life's thrown to you like a buffet, you'll have to have what's served to you. College, I swear was different. It was what I call : A Candid Commotion of Choices.

People, yes, I must talk about the people. So technically, college is like this giant aquarium with fishes, crocodiles, sharks etc. pretending to live in peace and vowing not to eat each other up. No doubt, you enter the threshold like an innocent fish, but what you retire as is entirely your prerogative. Honestly, it's always better to stay the fish. You get bumped around all too often. 'Make, break and brake' starts to seems like a motto. One day, you'd grow comfortable staying that way, and then that'll be a way of life. Well yes, that's strictly opinionated, but then that's strictly personal too.     

You may be the who's who of college, but you're all going to end up leaving this place with a taste, not in your mouth, but in your head : Bitter Sweet. 


It's OKAY to accept it. Adios NSIT.