Just an Experience

What are the modes of entertainment??? Well one may find it rather effortless to say that it’s TV, Radio (mostly fm, as of now), movies, Internet (how can this be at the last?!) and et cetera. But I contradict this statement. According to me, the best form of entertainment is visiting a shopping mall. Now I know there may be naysayer arguing about my statement (no offence friends! After all, every human being differs from one another) but this is said out of my ‘wonderful experience’. So, let’s not get ourselves into the arduous task of argument. So, yes, I stick to my statement that visiting a mall is another form of entertainment, especially on weekends when you haven’t got even a 10-rupee ticket for a T rated movie! I was especially bored on one Sunday and I couldn’t sit mooning around the whole day so I decided to hit the roads. I preferred to travel in a local RTC bus because it’s always fun watching other people do their little affairs (pun intended) in the six-tyred metal box called as bus. And secondly, I did not have any other modes of transport. So I sprinted like a deer and caught a bus to one of the biggest malls of my city, Big Bazaar! Well, I aint in a Mumbai or some metro so I had meager choice.
Gone are those days when purchasing things from the market was such a boring affair. But today, it’s a multi-million industry where the head honchos are cashing on the shopping abilities. Now, people visit shopping malls for no reason; who said we have to buy something every time we go?!
I caught an early bus at around 5 pm in the evening and luckily got a window seat. The metal box was later full, with families wanting to visit the parks and movie theatres and so on. It was only I who realized that a plethora of emotions would be seen in the mall which is no less than a movie in itself! I would spread the message of this unique form of entertainment to the entire world and become famous and Her Highness Ms. President would want to meet me to see the genius who sent waves of revolution in the entertainment industry…and suddenly I heard a loud, shrilling, ear-piercing cry of a baby. It took me a minute to realize that a baby was sitting right beside me, carried by a heavy woman in red sari, a danger sign! I was aggravated by the heavy lady who stymied like a bone in a fish into my wonderful dream. But then I regained composure and sat quietly, forcefully staring out of the window, fuming in myself. Suddenly, the conductor was acting rather weird, staring down searching for something. After enquiry, I found that he accidentally dropped two five-rupee coins. I pitied him and helped him search for his precious coins. After sometime, we finally found the coins and when I came back to my seat, it was already occupied by someone else. So much for my “altruistic behaviour”. I gave a disgusted look to her and stood there. To top it all, the bus was so fast that even a cycle-peddler could get down and walk with his cycle and still reach his destination faster us. Mercury levels were rising inside me and I was afraid that my skull would pop up like a rail engine and release smoke, just like in one of those cartoons of Tom and Jerry. After some time, the bus was so full; I was on my emotional ‘peak’ and could probably ‘tumble’ down from there any second.

I reached my destination finally (with a couple of foot stamps and frizzled hair) and went inside the huge four-storied building, now swarming with people. Two security guards were in their full zing as if to pounce anyone doing any mischief. I passed the two giants and went to a clothes counter. I was walking, or was I? No. I was being transported by a bunch of people, or shall I say, a herd of people like in a Mumbai local train. And all I could do was stand there, petrified. There was an intense rush of adrenaline as I saw the crowd in the lift. I couldn’t help but take the stairs and half through them, remembered that there is an escalator too. Grumbling, I went to the books counter and was browsing through it when suddenly I see that there were shrilling sounds heard. It took me a moment to realize that there was a music counter nearby and the weird sounds like banging plates was coming from there. Frustrated, I went to the food counter and I see huge carts of food items and other stuff full to the brim are being pulled by the women and men. Some with their kids on the carts as if that’s some roller-coaster ride. All the same, the kids seem to enjoy the ride on those carts with small wheels. With lot of difficulty, I slithered through the carts to pick up some food stuff and headed to the cash counter. I noticed a couple standing with their kid on the cart. The kid started yelling loudly, “Mom, why can’t you buy that? I like it. I want it”. The mother spoke in a low voice, “Listen I got everything for you. Now don’t make a fuss here or else I’ll leave you here and go.” The kid seemed stubborn. He begged his father, “Dad, pleeeeease I really want it. Can we please take it? Pleeeeeeeeeeease.” But it didn’t work. His dad gave an I-cant-help-it-son look to him and the kid became more frustrated and started wailing loudly. It was not until the mall authorities had come and threatened the parents of a police case of creating nuisance in the mall did the child stop crying. I felt relieved and compassionate over the kid whose poignant state of affairs had a wave of commiseration rise in my heart. Suddenly, it was replaced by a sense of nostalgia for me; I used to nag my mother about various things like chocolates and junk food whenever I went to market with her. I smiled to myself and asked her, “What did he ask, aunty?” she looked at me and said, “Oh the usual toy stuff. But he got lots of them at home so I refused. That’s why he’s nagging.” I wanted to give a try and turned to the kid and said, “Hi, if you behave properly today, I’ll give you a chocolate. Will you?” The kid gazed at me for a second and nodded. I grinned and went away. To my surprise, the kid behaved very responsibly (of course, with a tinge of sulk on his face) and helped his mother. I kept my promise and gave the kid a chocolate and kissed him on his cheek. He grinned broadly and went away. Thanks to the kid, my childhood days were as fresh as the dew drops on a leaf. I realized that there’s no point being a goody-in-two-shoes during childhood coz we would not have wonderful memories!! I smiled to myself, thinking that visiting a shopping mall; there would be a different experience every time.

I have never been away from my parents in my twenty years of life which means I had my share of pampering and restrictions all through my life. When I stepped into the hostel for the first time, I felt I was gaining something- the freedom but I didn’t have the faintest idea of what I was losing, the due realization of which struck my head a few days later. OK, it’s a hostel, which means a myriad of people and a plethora of experiences, one of which is about to flow from the bottom of my heart…
The great family-free morning arrived and I got up…really late. I checked the time- 7:30 am. “Oh my god”, I realized “time to have my breakfast in the mess”. I jumped from my bed and sprinted into the common bathroom, only to find my hostel mates brushing their teeth, occupying all the wash basins. Time ticked by and I had to wait for my turn to do the teeth-cleaning. Later, I rushed back to my room, picked up my bucket and clothes and came back to the bathroom for a bath, only to see a long queue of girls, standing with colorful buckets and equally colorful towels and waiting for their turn patiently. I was instantly frustrated (no surprises there) and was cursing Time which moved on and on, as if it was chased by a mad dog. I took a quick bath [a sympathetic gesture towards the other girls;)] and rushed into my room. It was 8:30 am. I dressed up and picked up my coffee mug and ran towards the mess. Alas! There was a bigger queue waiting in front of the mess door waiting for their share of hot breakfast. A bigger queue than that would be in front of a blockbuster movie. Suddenly fear gripped me and I prayed to the Almighty to help me out of the horrifying situation. I was terribly late. I realized that I had to choose from the two options available- skip the breakfast and reach the class on time or eat to my heart’s content and skip the class. I felt like Abhimanyu in Mahabaharat, stuck in a chakravyooh of Time. How I wish I could stop the time, I wondered. Finally, after the ritualistic lip-chewing and nail-biting, I decided to skip the breakfast but as I said, Time was playing games with me. I rushed to the general store and ate biscuits on the way, cursing the Time. Suddenly I wondered, “I was never late when I was at home. In fact, I was appreciated by my lecturers for my punctuality. Why am I late now?” and then I reeled back to the days at home- Mom woke me up at 6:30 am (I get up at 7:30), brushed my teeth, Mom gave coffee, read news paper, Mom pressed the clothes, Mom gave hot water for bath, Mom prepared breakfast, Mom fed me almost everyday and I catch a bus and travel half an hour and reach college on time. And BAM!! The truth hit me hard. Of course, there was more of Mom, less of me. And as if Buddha had his revelation under a tree, I had this striking revelation near one of the dustbins on my way. I composed myself to work out everything from the next day. It wasn’t easy. And today I can say that I do all my work on time with little bit of planning (and a lot of grunts) and I’m never late again.
Let me tell you, hostel sure gives you independence but teaches you responsibility. And today, Time is my best friend:)

When I look back into my school days, the halcyon moments I shared with my god-graced wonderful friends who helped me grow into what I am today, the wonderful teachers who preached the silent virtues of life, along with the general academics, and the times when I shared the most happiest moments, eating Panipuri with my friends!! Wait a minute. Does something seem out of the place? Not really. A paramount share of my school and college life was spent munching away India’s most famous snack- Panipuri. With it are interwoven the little precious moments where there was joy, happiness and some amount of crying too, judging by the spiciest ones popped into my mouth! Reeling back into my school life when I was first introduced to this wonderful snack at a nearby road stall, I was instantly attracted towards the sphere-shaped puris and the crux of the snack, the spicy liquid which had an unusual tangy taste. Time was ticking and the much awaited moment arrived when I was served my plate. I picked one and popped it in my mouth. The thin crust instantly gave way to the cool and spicy liquid inside my mouth and boy! It was truly delightful. I felt instantly transported to a new world of junk food and thanked the unknown person who created this truly spectacular snack, I remembered reading somewhere that ‘it was probably the creation of someone with a sense of humour!’
I was so overjoyed with the snack that I insisted my mom to learn the recipe so that I can enjoy it under more hygienic conditions; though eating it outside was the thing to do.
But it doesn’t stop with this. My relationship with this wonderful eatable went a long way. Entering into my college life, the local roadside stall of pani puri was a regular hangout for birthday treats and to discuss the spicy gossips with spicy puris! One of my friends had given his birthday treat in a pizza house. The only time I saw pizza was some model endorsing it on television. It may sound rather unusual but till date I had never tasted pizza and was looking forward for it, judging by the fact that it was very popular among my contemporaries. But according to my mum, it is “a piece of stale bread with few left-over ‘damaged’ (she meant rotten) vegetables half-cooked and ‘attractively’ served on”. This was surely a dreaded description, scary enough to make a hard-core pizza lover to never even give a second look to it! But then, to keep up with the normal crowd (who wants themselves to be called abnormal?) I agreed to join the gang for a pizza treat. So after the college, we headed straight to a pizza joint nearby. With our raucous laughter and noise, we scared the wits out of that pizza guy; I wondered whether we reminded him of angry animals stuck in a stinky cage! One of my pals, an expert on various pizzas, ordered a vegetarian paneer pizza and a chicken pizza and soft drink. It was a weekend afternoon and we were craving for the food. After fifteen minutes or so, the pizza guy came with piping hot pizzas in his huge tray. My stomach growled as I took a bite of the pizza. It was bland. I told myself, “It’s ok, chill. May be you should try it with the peppercorns and tomato sauce. It’s not that bad, you know.” My stomach growled again, as if to say, “Hello, I don’t want this. Why do you want to force it down?” but still I took another bite of that accursed pizza. I couldn’t take it anymore. Suddenly, I looked up at my friends and, to my ‘delicious’ surprise; everyone had the same look as if they had tasted a piece of leather. One of my friends suggested a hamburger to replace the pizza. I didn’t want to disappoint them and so took a bite of hamburger. I must say I was reminded of my usual wailings whenever my mom served bread and butter to me. “The toast at home would taste much better than this”. To everyone’s surprise, I grinned broadly and said, “Well, if you still want to enjoy the remaining pieces, I will wait. I’m in no hurry.” The pizza-expert grinned weakly and said, “Let’s get out of here and get the stuff packed. We’ll donate it to the street dogs and be done with it.”
We laughed at our disability and headed back to my favourite joint-the pani puri joint near MG Road. It seemed that my mind realised what was coming and so it sent signals to my stomach which started growling again. I could envisage the state of my mind as soon as my hands would receive the puri and catch it between the fingers and pop it into the mouth and my stomach churning it and… uh let’s not get into the later part of it! It was as though a marooned chap in the desert had a gulp of chilled Sprite! Alacrity filled me and I looked hopefully at my friends, now that they too saw it. The ‘pizza expert’ thought for a moment and gave a thumbs-up! I jumped up with joy and we walked to him. As Frank O’Connor would describe it, “Long months of abstinence behind him (in this case, her) and an eternity of pleasure before!” I savoured every delightful puri the cheery fellow served me with and boy! He had a pretty good business from us. I wondered whether he would build a small mansion for himself from the money we gave him!
The transformation of my desire into a tiny obsession scared people around me and I was accused of being paranoid about my desire, but I couldn't care less. Those were the days of joy and gay, when every evening I went to munch over the snack near a road-side stall, occasionally providing him useful tips to beautify the snack to be a lot tastier. He even wanted me to point out any flaws which I used to find occasionally in his recipe; there was a prodigious bond of trust and friendship in the little conversation we used to have during the munching. But then something drastic and dastard happened in my life which left me disheartened and disgruntled. My father got transferred from that place and I had to part my wonderful friend the panipuribhaiyya with whom I had some lovely discussions about the awesome food. I bid farewell to the bhaiyya who was slightly disappointed, so was I.
Lets just say it will be the beginning of my rendezvous with another panipuribhaiyya whom I’ll find in the new city, of course, there’ll be lot more people who dedicate their lives in serving the munching, one-of-its-kind snack to the wretched mortals like me like ‘angels’ serving the elixir of life with great gusto!

Note: I now like pizzas too.

If you feel jittery, tongue-tied and sweaty and nauseating in a situation where you face an audience of at least 20 or so people, you are not the only one who feels so. Ok, let’s face it. Speaking in front of many people on the stage needs quite some guts, which, incidentally I do not possess. Now, that apparently seems quite absurd to my friends who think that I’m the great great grand-daughter of Einstein and that I have brains genetically modified to perform extra-ordinary feats from the time of my birth and it’s very silly for me to think that I cannot talk on stage. Oooh! The thought is so nauseating.
Balancing yourself between the reality and illusion, truth triumphs and illusion fails miserably. The truth is - nightmares cannot be easily forgotten. And I had this particular incident where I kept standing like the statue of Buddha in Hussain Sagar, staring blankly at an audience when I was supposed to talk on ‘Reforming the present educational system’. I knew all the facts, the pros and cons and excellent suggestions to throw away to the intellectuals sitting on the other side of the stage, eagerly waiting for me to speak. I admired their spirit of endurance and at least for their sake, wanted to speak but, alas! Nothing came out of my mouth except a faint, gurgling sound. After much of the anticipation, I opened my mouth and spoke exactly nineteen words which included ‘education system needs to be reformed. The government needs to take effective steps to mend the paralyzed education system.’ After a long pause of wasted time, I uttered a faint ‘thank you’ but actually meant it for the judges who were as patient as the yogic saints of Himalayas. I wondered whether they were into Yoga or meditation.

But, as mentioned earlier, some nightmares were etched but some weren’t that bad and the expected nightmare turned into a beautiful experience. My parents stressed on ‘effective communication skills’ and unfortunately, effective public speaking skills were one of them. I tried to argue, “But my writing skills are not bad, Dad…” but in vain. It was as though I was fighting a lost battle. The next time was a competition to judge the best speakers in my college. Gosh! Don’t they have a much subtle competitions like essay writing or anthakshari or something like that? And my friends insisted that I participate in the competition. I envisaged the faces of those wretched mortals who would be ‘fortunately gifted’ with the same spirit of patience to listen to my ramblings. But then, a though flashed my mind ‘why can’t I do it? Why can’t I talk on the stage?’ And then I decided that I would take on as a challenge and get on with the talking. I had prepared for the topic pretty hard as always and I decided to give a shot but this time, a positive one. I remembered the punch line of a soft-drink ad, “Beyond fear lies success”. Wow! I felt motivated at the thought and mentally thanked the advertising manager who ‘created’ that wonderful line! I spoke everything in an orderly fashion and tried hard not to feel nervous. I felt content and happy at the end because I tried hard to feel calm and free and succeeded in it. Though I did not win any prize, I won something which I didn’t have last time, I won back my confidence, the confidence to achieve what I want, the confidence to face a bigger audience next time. And I advice all my friends who are riding in the same boat, give in your best and leave the rest. And remember that ‘Rome was not built in a day’ and ‘Practise makes a (wo)man perfect.’

Whenever you go to give a speech or a presentation, these tips may help you:-
Do not feel that you are being judged. This is one of the psychological notions that many of us feel. If you know that you are being judged, you might get under stress to perform much better which may result in tension and nervousness.
Do not go without being prepared. Unless you are perfectly thorough with what you are going to speak, you cannot perform confidently.
Take deep breath twice or thrice before you speak. This will bring down the nervousness.
Look confident, use hands while talking. That way, it would build up your confidence.
Finally, give in your best and leave the rest.

We hear so many stories about the disparities in terms of caste, creed and economic status in our society. At this juncture, I would like to share one of my favourite stories which i had read when i was a kid. This story had deeply influenced me about the religious values that one should inculcate and emulate. Also, this story had been written by a boy of around 11 years of age which adds to the beauty of the story. I penned down all that I could remember about the story. Hope I did justice to the real script.

I wonder why grandma didn’t scold me for it, as I expected myself to be skinned alive by her. But no, and moreover she gave a smile which wasn’t a smirk! Did the sun rise in the west? Then how come my grandma didn’t scold me for the fiasco I created? Now it definitely has to be the eight wonder of the world!
Well, my granny’s interest lies in religious and spiritual discussions and she considers today’s movies as “a piece of filth” and today’s super-hit songs as “mixture of meaningless and vulgar words” which I totally disagree and end up having a heated “verbal war” with her; but she ends up winning the battle always. And mom always supports her and tries to divert me from that discussion which she eventually fails; I become a lone warrior. Also one of my interests lies in irritating my granny, which sometimes ends up in me getting a couple of spanks.
One Sunday when I was sleeping indolently in the morning, my granny woke me up as if tsunami had come. I rubbed my eyes and mumbled, “ good morning grandma, what happened? Why did you wake me up? Don’t you know today’s Sunday? Let me sleep”. Saying this I covered myself completely with the blanket. Granny got angry and pulled the blanket from my face and gave a slap. She said, “Get up stupid; we are going to the Krishna temple today, it is an auspicious day today. Get up lazybones and get ready in another half hour. We have to catch an early bus and go to Harihar.” Did she say Harihar? Wow! Delicious sweets offered in the temple! I sprinted like a deer and got ready. We caught an early bus to Harihar and reached there.
We had the darshan of lord Krishna and my granny gave me a coin to drop in the box kept in front of the shrine. I looked at the coin and then at granny. I thought, “What will I get if I drop this precious coin in the box?” Thinking this, I pretended to drop the coin in it and carefully slipped it in my pocket. We then went to Hanuman temple and offered prayers. Granny went inside the shrine to offer fruits and money while I strolled around the temple. Just then I saw a candy shop and bought some candy with the coin. “ Where did u get that candy from?” granny bellowed. Before I could even utter a word she put two-and-two together and shouted, “So the coin which I gave you to put in that box, you bought a candy with it? Shame on you, you disgusting boy!” and she gave a slap in front of all the people. Me, standing there, with reddened face, would have done nothing more than just run away from there. Well, so much for my delicious sweets!
It was Christmas holidays and I was sleeping peacefully on a cold morning when my granny woke me up and ordered to get ready and come with her to vinayak temple. I wondered, “well, at least I could go with her for courtesy sake”, and I got ready. When we reached the temple, many of the beggars started surrounding us. One of them shouted, “amma, please give a coin, help this poor needy, earn the good blessings from the mighty lord.” I felt pity and said, “grandma, please give a coin to that poor guy”. Suddenly granny took out her kerchief, covered her nose and said, “let’s get away from here. Goodness knows what diseases they might be carrying with them.” I didn’t pursue the matter further and walked away with her but the moaning of that beggar was ringing in my ears, I don’t know why…
After the prayer we came and I saw that the beggar was sleeping on the ground and all the other beggars were ululating, saying, “help this poor creature, please give alms to the needy, earn the blessings of lord…” granny took out a coin and was going to fling the coin when I stopped her. “Grandma, what are you doing?” I asked. Granny gave a smile and said, “ Oh ok. You take it and give it to those beggars. You would be blessed by lord vinayaka.” “Blessings?”, I asked granny, “when the poor man needed money and begged you, you went away and now you are flinging a coin on his dead body? Does real devotion towards the god means offering fruits and money to a stone statue and refusing to the poor and needy that are in need of them? Shame on you granny!” I suddenly exploded in front of her. Uh oh! I’m dead! But surprisingly, granny gave me a kiss on my cheek and said, “you are right sweetie. Oh how futile were my prayers to the lord when I refused to help the poor people. Thank you for enlightening me dear!” and she kissed me on my cheek.