That chemistry lab…

I used to recollect some of my dreams. I used to get all sorts of weird dreams. I don’t know what it actually means.

In one of my dreams I found myself doing some chemistry experiment. To be more specific I think I was doing some volumetric analysis, because I remember pouring some solution to another and trying to observe some change in colour of the mixed solution. Forget that detail, that’s not important. What happened next was more interesting, at least then. I found only one person in that whole room. I had never met her before, but when ever she gazed at me I got a feeling that she some how knew me already.

She looked very tense, in fact the intensity at which she was doing that experiment I thought it was an exam. Indeed it was an exam, I realized that only when an old person suddenly barged into the room and announced “30 more minutes”. Few minutes later, I finished my experiment and moved towards the chair to do the calculations and other stuff. Her table was very near to my chair. Remaining work what ever I had to do was pretty straight forward, just to substitute the values into the formula and arrive at the result. I was very curious to see what she was doing. I dropped my erasers deliberately so that I could see her while picking it up. She was actually staring me when I saw her, at least at that instant. Suddenly she put her face down when that happened. I was dumb struck, I was clue less. I stopped doing my calculation. I just wanted to know why she was seeing me like that, was it because she was about to call me, was she trying to see what had I written in my paper, was she just looking at board and I felt that as if she was looking at me. Suddenly knowing that became the only intention of my life.

At first I thought of completing the calculation and then talk to her, but then my actual intention were different. I jumped out of my chair and saw if some one was around, when I found it safe I approached her
” hey, do you need some thing…?” I asked her very politely
“NO” that was her tak response
I was not convinced by her response even though she responded sharply. I made one more effort by saying
“I thought you were struggling, so I think I should probably help you in some way orrrr …” it looked like as if I needed some help from her…
“It’s none of your business, can you mind on one that is on your table” I was devastated when she said that. I said nothing and came back to my chair. I thought some one just murdered my ego. I felt like throwing away each and every object near me to Indian Ocean.

After reaching my chair, I had completely lost my mind. I was not able to recollect any formula, forget about formula, I was not even able to recollect the title of the experiment that I had done minutes back. My hatred to her multiplied millions of times. Minutes started moving like seconds, I was able to think absolutely nothing. In the middle of all these things that old person came back asking for answer scripts. She was some how able to finish the experiment but then left with calculations. The old person grabbed the paper ruthlessly even after she strongly pleaded for extra time. I dint even bother to ask for extra time, I just wanted to go out of that room.

I dint want to remember any thing that happened in that room, I knew that I would some how pass for doing the experiment, I also new that completing the calculation would have earned me 95%. I had started moving towards the canteen and I heard a voice saying “hello, excuse me” from back. I turned back and it was her. I dint want to talk to her anymore. I moved faster. She came running and asked me
“Where are you going?”
I quickly replied, rather yelled
“Its none of your business” without even looking at her pretty face.
Immediately, facing me” Oh no, you took it so much badly, is it? I am really, really sorry… I don’t want to go home guilty for two reasons… I was really tensed at that moment … I dint mean what ever I said” almost like begging.
Like any other Hero, I responded “ok, fine… but tell me one thing” and I continued “what’s the second reason to be guilty”
Her response was “to hurt a person”
“Arre, that I got it”
“Oh then you mean the first one?”
I smiled at her innocent answer and replied “oh yes, tell me the first one itself”
“The first one is to do badly in the exam” she gave a confused look…
“You are guilty for that? I can understand you feel bad and all... but seriously guilty?
“Ya, like my parents spend so much money for my education, so I should do my each and every exam well, don’t you think that’s a valid reason to be guilty”
I responded saying “ahh no, I don’t think that way… however, I respect your thought”

After talking with her for some more time we went to have coffee. She told me her school days stories, her stories from her home town, stores of how she got into the college, stories on how she enjoyed playing basket ball. She even paid for the coffee, telling me that’s going to make her feel less guilty. The conversation was just like some movie; the best part was that I was thr in that.

It was almost five in the evening when she decided to leave. I wanted to thank her for all the conversations, I wanted to tell her that she was very sweet, I wanted to say ba bye, but suddenly I heard my mom shouting “ get up, get up… its all ready 8 ‘O clock… do you want to miss your chemistry lab exam”

The pep...

Snoring at 10'O clock was our habit, not getting breakfast in the mess was just one of the consequences. Either of us, who ever got up first jumped into other's room and banged the door, loud enough to wake up the other nocturnals in the hostel. Rakesh, at least had good reasons to be awake late in the night, with all the image processing algorithms and stuff. Next event in the morning was the phone call from Neeraj (my lab mate) asking " kothai" ( which means "where" in Bangla). You will get the Bangla connection in very less time.

Rakesh and myself strolled through the campus to reach the department in the shortest path. Sometimes , rather very occasionally, On our way I used to meet a gal near the library and he used to wait till I completed my conversation with her. After those conversations he used to pull my leg so much that I started ignoring her when ever he was around. We used to split in the department and went to our respective labs to do the so called research.

Our lab meetings never happened in the lab, but in coffee board, which was located diagonally opposite to our department. Madhurima Chattopadhyaya, my another lab mate, annoyed with our ill managed research schedule used to give a stern look after meeting us in coffee board. Neeraj, happens to come up with some or the other Bangla story to change her mood in seconds. The coffee tasted much stronger to Madhurima if we were having a Bangla glorified stories. The stories included names like Satyajith Ray, Sourav Ganguly, Amartya Sen, Mamatha Bannerji etc, and topics like West Bengal politics, Rabindro Sangeeth, Bangla literature, etc. But the evil in Neeraj and me tested her temper by bring up some dark sides of Bangla stories. In one occasion I pronounced West Bengal as Waste Bengal and that had infuriated her like anything. Neeraj and my self never missed a chance in pulling her leg in this front. Never the less, She retaliated with her facts and figures about Karnataka and Bihar, leaving us hiding our faces. Ganapathy Subramanyan, rather Gonapathy, our junior from lab, famous for stretching time limits, used to join the "social networking session" almost in the middle of our conversations or debates. With his entry, stories about Chennai were invariably comprehended into our discussions. Our morning lab meeting were like a forum to understand Unity in Diversity :).

After spending some quantity of time (not sure of the quality) in the lab we used to meet again in the coffee board. The evening coffee sessions were more fun since we had our friends from other labs and other department joining us. We had more leisure in the evening sessions. The discussions were mostly about the proceedings of the day, about some movie, TV show, past experiences or about some professor . On some evenings we had discussions about marriage, love and responsibilities. For instance, one day we were talking about love marriage vs arranged marriage, when I was asked which I prefer ,I had given a quick response as " which ever comes first" and the whole group had laughed at my answer for several minutes. We shared our opinion on various things , cribbed about various issues and on few occasions we discussed some technical stuff as well. The evening coffee sessions ended with Madhurima leaving to play home to pick her daughter up.

After we left IISc even the coffee board was also closed, with that it was like an end of an era for us. To keep a warm feeling, I came up with a new classification of human beings , those who got a chance to have coffee at coffee board and those who dint. I came to Hyderabad and so did Neeraj, on pursuit of corporate career. I happen to meet him today, we had our dinner in some good place and most importantly we went to a place to have coffee. Although we got tea instead of coffeee, we had those discussion which we did each and every day. Those stories in which we irritated Madhurima, those stories of individualism, those stories of girls, those stories of Goa -Gokarna, those stories of our friends... I was not sure when we were going to meeting again , but I always had the habit of telling him what time I was going to meet him next, this time I told him " I will meet you next time probably ... next time when we meet".

My first love...

If u are reading this thinking that its about my love with a person then I must inform you that it's not. However, I can say that it's pretty much similar...

The day used to start with me reciting some Sanskrit prayers to three goddesses. After I got up, amma (my mom)'s time was almost at my disposal. I would have shouted "coffee" five times even before taking my mouth wash. My next query was weather all my dress, shoes and socks were washed, if the answer happen to be yes then no apparent appreciation, if not then it went on to become a loud fight. It was as if I was doing a big favor to my parents by going to school. I was then just about a teenager.

Saturday was my favorite day during those times. There were many reasons for it to become the favorite day for most of my class mates as well, like the school used to get over as early as 11:20, the TV show Shakthiman was aired at 12, very few home works to be submitted, one and half hrs in the ground for drill, etc. Even I considered those as very good reasons, but for me the best reason was that I could play cricket after school. Cricket in the after noon, cricket in the evening and also practicing bowling in my home during night. I waited for Saturday much much more than now.

I always aspired to be a leg spinner, I even got a book to learn that. I bowled both spin and medium pace, at times mix of both. I was part of two teams, one in the school and another near my home. The team near my home was formed mostly by my primary school friends. I was an established player in that circle where as in my school I was more of a struggling player, like those trying hard to make to the team types. Never the less my aim was to represent my school not just for my class. I dint care to study even if I had tests, I dint mind getting last rank in class but I couldn't have missed the Sunday evening game. I was pretty lucky that my parents never forced me on my education even when I did so badly then.

Painting was my other passion in life. Going to painting contests had almost become my Sunday morning routine, wining those contests regularly made me a known person in the school. I enjoyed that popularity. I had lost quite a lot before I started winning in many. Thats when I started really appreciating victories. Thats when I realized their is nothing like not doable. Thats when I started painting classes for kids. Those painting classes became handy in a very good way, I could buy cricketing gears like batting gloves, leg pads, thigh pads, balls etc. Freedom in my life extended to a next level. The impact of money on achieving happiness was felt. In this way ,Painting had become my best friend and cricket my love.

Road cricket was like our miniature version of actual cricket. We had made our own set of rules that suited the environment. To mention a few rules, if a batsman hits the ball directly to some house he was declared out, if ball goes in to the gutter then one run was declared no matter how many runs the batsman complete, the bowler cannot throw the ball more then certain speed to the batsman, like that etc. A metal chair from my house were the wickets. The bowler to batsman distance was nearly one fourth of the actual standards. The Road cricket was in many ways very crude, nevertheless very much fun. I used to run home soon after the final school bell and did all the arrangements for the road cricket. Going to each and every friend's house in the neighbor hood convincing them to play, the toughest part was in convincing their mom's in allowing their boy. The homework and tests used to be the spoil sport. My mom had given up on convincing me on doing academic stuff during those hours. On some nice evenings there used to be quite many neighbors joining the game. Some of them my age, some elderly, but the intensity in the game was the same amongst us. Their was only one thing and that was to win, thats it. Each day we had different combinations of players in teams. If one day a one person is my team mate other day he might be my rival. The craving for runs , wickets, catches had made the game very sensitive to fights. Some times the fights lead to a major resentment but by next day no one cared to remember. Ultimately everyone wanted to play.


After I made it to my school team, I started attending coaching sessions organized by the school. Waking up at five in the morning, which looked so impossible earlier, seemed very fine when I started attending those cricket practices. Bowling continuously for hours dint tire me. Not a single ball I delivered was to stop the batsman from hitting , it was sent only to get him out. The batsman can only be our enemy to get him out was everything. I had a pretty decent debut by taking 3 wickets for some nominal runs scored on me. I never considered my self as a batsman. I dint mind bowling all the overs and not get a chance to bat even a single ball. I went on to become a regular player in my school team. In a day I thought of cricket all 24 hours.

My 15th birthday and my first day of 10th standard happened to be the same day. That day or I think those few days were very strategic in my life, if I see it now. The consciousness of "10th standard" ==> "Board exam" had creped into each and every cells in my body. Slowly cricket coaching was replaced by tuitions for board exams and Sunday morning painting contests by NTSC tuitions. I played road cricket for few days , I dint have guts in asking my friends to join the game even for half an hour, since I myself was not sure weather I should play or not. It was neither my parents nor my sister nor any person for that matter told me to stop doing what I terrifically enjoyed; but I did stop.