Tag: birthday

  • THE ONE WHO CANNOT BE MOVED

    His name is Jain.. Achal Jain.
    Not Aanchal, not Anshul, not Chanchal..  its Achal.
    A synonym of “Hill” in “Hindi”.
    Or as the heading says, “one who cannot be moved.”

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    I primarily was not inclined to write this post at all. Because I couldn’t find anything which has not been written over here among all these blog-posts, or said to you directly. Or via Whatsapp, over calls, elaborated text messages and other hundred modes of communication. Out of the 26 years you have completed on this planet earth, our invasion into each other’s life is now exactly two decades old. We’ve been pillion riders on Bajaj Classic Scooter and Yamaha RX-100 for Christ’s sake! It actually sounds like something that should have come out from our father’s mouth. Are we that old?

    Mentally maybe.

    Looking back now, it actually feels like an era has passed. We have actually witnessed each other growing up, And believe it or not, I do remember how we first met.

    So this is about when we entered 1st standard. 1st July 1997 (It must be it, supposedly! I am not that good at remembering stuff), After a blissful summer vacation of entire two months, it was the time to go back to school. The first day of the session, no matter which class, is dreading anyhow. That’s what “the set of unwritten laws” says. To top it off, I had to change my mode of transportation also. As if the tiring work of applying covers to the books and copies, and making crucial decisions regarding which cartoon name-slip will go on which book cover was not draining enough.

    This migration from Horse-Tonga to Auto, was pretty taxing mentally. How much could a kid take on the first day itself? As soon as the high pitched horn sounded outside, my mother rushed me with an enthusiasm she probably wanted to see in me. Had I gifted her my bag, she would have happily took it and rode off in the Auto to school. Sadly that’s not how it works.

    As I dragged my feet to the gate, I was accompanied by my colony friends, who have been using this Auto for eternity and didn’t had to worry about being the new guy not only in the class, but also in the Auto. I saw them giving their bags to the driver, as they happily started conversing with their friends. A look back to my excited mother’s face ensured that there was no getting out of it.

    So I silently walked to the driver, handed him my bag, and gave a look at the children to find a space where to sit. Such an unfriendly bunch of runts I tell you! Just busy in discussing about Shaktimaan and Kapala fight! I thought maybe the friendly neighbourhood friends would help me out. But no, they were the moderators of the group discussion!

    There was this one guy with ultra straight hair and kinda triangular face, who looked at me and moved aside to let me in. I jumped at it and the auto started. After waving off to my mother, whose excitement was turning less visible with the auto picking up speed, my colony friends finally could see me again, and introduced to this triangle boy, who was the only guy in that auto of my age and class. “Hey Achal, this is Abhinav.”

    “Hi! So which section are you in?”
    “1st A”
    “Cool! I am in the same class! That means we are classmates!”

    I didn’t say much in that entire journey to school because all the talking on my behalf was being done by our common friends. We ended up on the same seat in the class, and by the end of the school that day I knew about his interest in drawing. I guess that was the point which led to the starting of a friendship. This friendship.

    Taking a trip down the memory lane does bring up many great things. But that’s the stuff to discuss and reminisce some other day. Enjoy now, as it is the gateway to a new you, 26 year old you. Question everything else but yourself, as it’s difficult to surpass 26 years worth of experience. Maybe next year?

    Any specific wish you have? Start collecting dragonballs then. Will give you a head start in it.. 🙂

    Many Many Happy Returns of the Day!

  • SHEEP IN THE BIG CITY

    I just have 15 minutes before the clock strikes 12 and your B’day starts. So I am pretty rushed because, duh! time crunch.

    This is the first time ever that I am directly addressing you in any of my posts, so well that’s a first. Congratulations Ms. Sheeba Faruqui for getting this far! Now this time of the year has never usually been a, I dare say, favourable time for our “Frenemy” relationship. It’s the time for everything to go south, haywire and mayhem. Utter chaos.

    It’s been 21 years since we first crossed paths, 19 years since we actually have been near each other, 16 years since we started a mutually acknowledging relationship (based on utter dislike), 11 years since a friendship was moulded into an ever-changing shape, something which is still hard to decide how it looks.

    Now, you are the most intelligent girl I’ve come across. But your true strength has always been the amount of labour you put in in-spite of it. The clarity of your goals, your thoughts, the way you want your life, that has always fascinated me. Maybe because I’ve never been so driven. But same is the reason for my respect towards your zeal and efforts. We can fight over the most stupidest of things. Sometimes we don’t even try to understand each other, where we are coming from. But that has never stopped me in acknowledging the importance you have had, in one way or the other.

    Now I am already 5 minutes up, and this blog in itself is filled with the references directly aimed at you. So I have no clue as of what I could possibly gift you that would justify the bond we have had since these 21 years. So I would say the words which I don’t think I use very often.

    Thank You.

    Thank you for being the person you are. Because it has made me the person I am.

    Wishing you a very Happy B’day. I hope God blesses you with everything you ask Him of. And gives you the strength, to ask Him for anything you want.

    By the time I am ending this, it’s been 25 minutes late. I know you don’t care. Still, efforts count, right? 😛

    Now bring a smile to your pumpkin face and be happy, as I won’t be doing cliched things like calling you or texting you.

    This post though, is solely for you. 🙂

     

    P.S. Did you notice how we use Him for God? I think I’ll start using Him/Her from next post onward.

  • A LETTER TO THE SELFIE QUEEN

    I hated “Selfies”. With time I have come to terms with the fact, that some fads are more bearable if you just let them run their course. But originally, I was a selfie hater.

    So, I guess it won’t be too hard to imagine my perception towards anyone who would be crowned as a “Selfie Queen”. Even though the “Selfie Queen” actually won a dumb competition in a senior-junior ice breaking event, so not exactly her fault. Still, Selfie Queen?? Yuck..

    Anyway, with the kind of love I had for the selfies and the similar feeling extended naturally towards their righteous queen, imagine my horror when a stupid “Name in the Slip” game chose me to be her buddy, just for the sake of a good senior-junior interaction.

    Like, best social event ever.

    Trust me when I say, I tried avoiding it like a plague. The queen was buzzing around me asking everyone who the person in her paper-slip was, as I sat there tight lipped, praying the heavens above to save an atheist from the amazing turn of events. But what are friends for. Welcome to the first awkward interaction.

    And there I was, prior to that event, thinking I would definitely help my junior buddy in every way possible, guide them throughout so that they could make the best out of their first year. How could I do that to the queen?? Somehow the interaction ended and I thanked God we didn’t exchange the number. I smiled inside as I thought that the God was merciful. But no! Just a few days later, I accidentally stumbled across the queen yet again, and this time we ended up exchanging numbers.

    Still, all had not been lost yet. I could still pass another three trimesters without coming in contact with this buddy queen of mine, in the total population of roughly 800 students in a closed residential campus. Speak about heights of optimism.

    And then it happened. Bruno was gone. I don’t remember this bit because I was too shaken at that time. But somehow we ended up talking, me and queen. Surprisingly, this conversation was nothing like what I would have normally expected. Because it was a healing one. That’s when I saw Ms. Dutta for what she is and I came to know this remarkable human being.

    OK, this all was too far-fetched and the exact facts have been dyed in heavy illusions to give this flavor. But too much praise is not my style and I am trying to heavily cut on sugar. Moreover, from this point onward, it’s going to be praises all along anyhow.

    Among people I see and come across on daily basis, who all are unique in their own sense, the rarity which always has fascinated me is the complexity of the simplicity. People are either complex, or simple, or seem complex but are simple. Then there are people like Ms. Dutta, who seem simple, but you always get a vibe similar to the one you feel while looking at the ocean from the shore; the surface is easy to read but the depth cannot be fathomed. She definitely is much more than what meets the eye. And I confirmed this when we had conversations. We never discussed rocket science, but the thoughts conveyed always had a weight in it, which usually comes with observation and experience. The beauty of it all is, the kind of temperament you would imagine for someone described as above, she doesn’t come even close. Ms. Dutta is as chirpy, as bubbly, as talkative, as fun-loving, as inversely proportional wise aged her soul is. I don’t know how she finds this balance. Or if she has a switch to her different modes, where just one exists at a time.

    Either Ms. Dutta, or the “Selfie Queen” 😛

    With the terrifying ability to pull off any joke or sarcasm with such a straight face, Ms. Dutta is what you would call a bundle of joy, made up of ages old ingredients, wrapped up in fancy packing. To top it all off, commendable command over the language, and the “could get killed over” quality, of being a glutton without being fat.

    Damn, even I am jealous.

    Well, that’s too much already for your B’day so I’ll wrap it up by saying two thing.

    1. Thank God your Churus didn’t win SuperChef, because nobody should be potentially good at so many things.
    2. Pink Potato, if you won’t do anything about it, I’ll steal it.

    Your b’days will come and go, but keep celebrating yourself each day. You deserve nothing less. Many many happy returns of the day.

     

     

     

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