This article is dedicated to those special people who have made an eternal, everlasting impact on my soul. In particular, my best friend and confidante, who has been with me through so many of the below mentioned events, that they are her memories, as much as they are mine. Babe, I found your letter, the one you sent me last year for my birthday: I miss you like crazy, every day and every night. Love always!!!!
“Associate yourself with great people. Maybe their greatness
will rub off, and inspire you to also become great.” My dad used to keep
telling me, hoping that his daughter may also become great one day. Ah, the
ambitions of parents: benign but the yearning is so evident! Here, I will
interject the famous Hindi stock dialogue, “mera beta (beti) khandaan ka naam
roshan karega(gi)”.
I’ve gone past the stage where I feel guilty about not
bringing laurels to my family name, but somewhere deep down I feel disquieted.
Cleaning is an activity that brings back a lot of things: lost T-shirts,
photographs, dust bunnies and heaps and heaps of nostalgia and introspection. I
was cleaning my room today and I came across a few old certificates, my sister’s
medals and a few cups I had won at local competitions. While I can’t say that I
was a star, or even that I achieved a lot. But I had made an honest effort to
participate, to shine, to be somebody. I can’t recall any such thing in
college. I did participate in a few things, yes! And did pretty decently at
them too. But, it was really nothing to write home about.
The beauty of the whole thing is that, this doesn't bother
me at all. Sure, mom and pop would have loved a few more certificates, probably
a blurb or two in the Times of India, but then again, all wishes don’t come
true. In fact, when I think about college, I can’t remember distinct events
like exams (oh the horror), fests or rallies.
What I do remember though, are incidents, people and the
moments we shared together. Spending a good part of two years around amazing
musicians didn't teach me any music at all. But, it did teach about the
happiness of sitting in dark, murky, typical boy apartment, surrounding by the
sweet tendrils of marijuana smoke and getting lost in guitar riffs and drum
rolls. Despite dating a drummer, I could never learn the names of all the
drums, but I still remember screaming his name out in a war like chant as he
played his heart out. I never managed to make social connections and “network”
like how the smart people used to, but I remember endless nights of chilling at
THE college bar (to beat all college bars), hopelessly drunk and happily
chatting with each and every Tom, Dick and Harry, I came across.
College really is the experience
one only understands after graduating. Every song, every drink, every brand of
cheap whiskey or rum, every road sign can be associated with some memory. Even
hoardings, posters on buses, buses themselves, tell some sort of story about
me- about my life and the person I was, in some ways, the person I want to be. Chop
Suey by System of a Down, reminds me of the first person I thought I “loved”
with disastrous results while Vat 69 reminds of the CRAZY marathon party we had
at my apartment thanks to my literary partner in crime bringing his friend’s
two liter bottle of the above mentioned whiskey over just for fun. House music,
3 AM joints, stuffed chicken egg burger with 2 Kings, “Naag and Naagayin”, raw Maggi,
Easter hangovers and Glow in the Dark parties- these words may mean nothing to
most people, but I can associate them with some of my fondest memories.
The list is literally endless. And at the end of the day, it
is precisely that. To an outsider, I probably don’t have much to show for. Some
even have asked, “What did you do those four years?” I don’t have a
satisfactory answer: no recommendations, no certificates or awards. All I have
are memories- friendships, heartbreaks, elation and misery! A bittersweet mix
of things that has made me the person I am right now. Did I learn anything or
leave a mark? Well, if not on paper, I hope I did so on those special people’s
hearts, just like they have on mine.
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