I guess this time I am really leaving...

Is not such a great or significant thing when there is no finality involved. You don't really leave; but just go visiting someplace else. A moment occurs in each person's life where there is a decision made. It might be big or small; but the theme remains the change if it has to make the intended effect. It is actually less of a decision and more of a reconciliation with the truth. A moment, when we realize that the place we are leaving will never be the same anymore. It is fleeting and ethereal as it is. But it will grow more distant and at times unrecognizable. With enough time; it will be just as much a stranger as is the next city.

This is what I wanted to share with the world out there. That; the city is only the people who make up the city. The city does not live. It does not breathe. It OPERATES. It operates according to terms set down by the people who are in it. It operates in a positive or a negative way to the individual based on the person's dynamics with the city. In short, without you, Chinna and Infant, Chennai will never be the same. There are so many people who are dear to me in this city; but there are so few who can define what the city is. And I leave a big chunk of myself, when I move to the next stop in the journey.

For those who know me; I am not the kind of guy who needs to fuss around about stuff. I look at life from the generalties and look out for exceptions. This ten day trip, can be looked at from what was different from the previous trips. This trip was special because... actually, there is no reason. NO single reason. Just that... There was an actual revisitation to the many moments I have lived here. Everything stood for something else. When I was dealing with my nephew or a brat at a birthday party, I was learning about parenting. When I got drenched in the rain outside a juice-bar, I was thinking about the so many days when we had ridden on bikes in the rain. Everything stood for something else; either in the past or the future. I hardly did half the things I had on my list to be done at Chennai, on both the practical, day to day front as well as the more whimsical and indulgent version.
I did a lot of things, mind you; but it is the things that did not happen make a list.

I did not go out for a Tamil Play.
I did not buy books.
I did not fix me new glasses.
I did not get a pair of crutches.
I did not smoke a final cigar.
I did not taste roast beef.
I did not play pool.
I did not visit the Library.
I did not visit my professors.
I did not meet many of my friends.
I did not attend the school reunion.
I did not even taste the Aavin Kulfi.
I did not walk in the beach.
I did not go to the beach everyday as I thought I would.
I did not see the sunrise.
I did not go down the IT corridor.
I did not have a drop of alcohol.
I did not see Vinnaithaandi Varuvaaya/ or any Tamil/ Telugu movie.
I did not have the play reading.
I did not go to Sparky's or Anjappar's.Thinking of it, I did not go out for a single day of proper dinner with my friends.

But I feel so much more pumped up about this trip than the others where I had done all these things. Then Chinna's words come back to me; this trip was special because there was an effort to make it memorable. Most nights and days passed with a lot of residual conversations and plans that never materialized. But they were all great because of just that; residual conversations. There was a sense of all those moments we had shared as well as what was going to happen. Nostalgia is both the past and the future simultaneously. And then... Silence.
My bags are packed. Tomorrow, I will be back in Kolkata. Worrying about things happening and not happening. Things that will dictate the course of my life. And things, in general. Life will resume. I will go back to a routine. My holiday space is over. Everyday is setting in. But it is not the freedom I will miss. It is the people I spent it with.

Cheers Mr Bond and Back-Bent.

Bump; motta blimp.

Rain... 5th September 2009

Happy Teacherz Day!

I know that some of my teachers would kill me if they see the 'z' used in the previous line. But like every other miscreant who'z crying for attention from his/her favorite teacher, I let it be - as a tribute to all of those who would smile reading this. Teachers. Not necessarily mine. Not particularly academic. Not always those who teach the great philosophies of the world. Teachers. Sometimes they say everything that has to be said with a smile. I am sounding too much like an Archie's greeting card. Before I break into the 'you held my hand and taught me to write...' song, let me move on.

This is an extremely localized phenomenon, just like the 14th November being celebrated as Children'z day. But despite this distinction as an Indian Secular Non-Patriotic Day (That'z a tough one folks!), Teachers Day gets little attention. Maybe a set of Reynold's pens from Class VII. A phone call from an ex-student (who still is charmed by the idea of Old School)? Teachers don't get a fair deal these days. I went to school in a time when children waited nervously outside the staff room to give a card and a rose to their favorite teacher. Some had to carry contingency flowers, in case they bump into their not-so-favorite ones. It is not a big deal anymore. Some got chocolates. Or even boiled sweets. But the sense of satisfaction in the eye of the teacher was unmistakable. It was as if this was the one day they have been working for all year long. They seem to say. It was worth it.

Its raining today. I come to know that there have been very few takers for the teaching profession in the recent past years. The best teachers are already in their late thirties. Smart ones don't head the teaching direction these days. The corporate world offers them more money or the universities offer more pride. Schools? They are fast becoming leftovers. I wish I am being the typical oldtimer who says that those days were the best. I maybe wrong. I hope I am wrong. I hope that strong minded individuals become school teachers and inspire students of the next generation to be the best they can be. I have had many who have reshaped my life. Talking about each of them is not the scope of this post. There will be another time abd place for that. But let me leave you with names and their nature in a few words (if that is possible)...

Mrs. Leela Chandy - Class II - Class Teacher - forced me to stand on my own.
Ms. Sheila Beatrice - Class III - Class Teacher - took me seriously.
Mr. Arul Prakash - Class VI - Tamil Teacher - sparked my fancy with the stage.
Mrs. Catherine Simon - Class VIII - English Teacher - made me want to be Scarlet Pimpernel.
Mr. Ganesh - Class XI to XII - Tamil Teacher - defined versatile for me.
Mrs. Lydia Sagayam - Claa I to XII - Librarian - trusted me as a leader.
Dr. Sujatha Ross - Class VIII to XII - Principal - gave me a huge homecoming.
Dr. Claramma Jose - BA I Year - A Doll House - showed me the power of the dramatic word.
Dr. Chitra - Dip in VisCom - Screenwriting - was my teacher; is my mother.
Dr. T R Joy - BA II Year - Iliad - a teacher should not worry about covering syllabus for the course, as much as he shoud about uncovering it for the students.
Prof. Britto Kumar - BA III Year - HEL - man is not happy because he has everything; he has everything only when he is happy.
Mr. Vijayalayan - BA III Year - Fiction - 1 challenge; 30 days; 1st novel.
Dr. Ananda Lal - MA I n II Year - Drama - gave me the strength to jump by believing I will.

Thank you all!