Unboxing Indian languages

My tryst with languages has been that of, love-hate. Education, across a string of schools and cities throws at you challenges, of what some might recall, as 2nd and 3rd languages. Compulsory languages, that you had to cross the mark on, to make it to the next grade. I had my encounters with Hindi, Bengali, Gurmukhi, Sanskrit and acquainted myself with French and Urdu. Thankfully, English was the marathon friend.


When it came to taking a second language, for boards, the hoity-toity had, French. As much as, the bourgeois bug appealed to me, I had to resign to Hindi "A". Then, I had kicked myself for not having scored lesser, so that I could have been assigned to the batch of Hindi "B". The scholarly subscribed to Sanskrit- oh boy, for that cramming! I have a fundamental disconnect with the whole, memorizing without understanding, school of education, but addressing that would merit an entire post. Honestly, I would have opted for neither French, nor Sanskrit, or the long tail German, Russian, and more. It’s the lack of choices, which sets you off on the "what if" mode. Sometimes, no option is not such a bad option, after all. It makes life simple.

Srinagar Days

On countless occasions I have wanted to be inspired
Twirled a pencil
Doodled on paper
Stared at the laptop
and just when I wanted to send a "wassup?" sms I could not stop myself
Inspired in the parking lot... on a mobile
There I was reliving my stay in Srinagar!

An ivy covered bungalow
icicles of its roof.
Mulberries, cherries, apples, apricots, almonds, pears
and many other fruits,
French windows with a panoramic view.
A bed of strawberries,
A slope covered with wild lilies.
Pebbled backyard,
Lush green front lawns with brick boundaries.
A turquoise swing
and wanting puppies.
Magnificent Chinar tree,
generously lent its golden leaves to the entry.
Glass room with bukhari,
Overlooking the Pehelgam, Gulmarg pahadi.
View of Shankracharya from the driveway,
A kilometer from the gate which kept the militancy away.
A ninety degree drop over which I saddled over soldiers bikes
much to their agony.
Sworn to never cross the sacrosanct boundary
Sneaked a glance at boat houses on Jhelum
and its vicinity.
Frisked in school as a part of security, daily
The favorite friend’s secret corner- a pipe
along which grew bichu butti.
Two daily needs markets,
the owners of which one knew personally.
Our only associate from the Valley,
a Kashmiri shawl vendor Nur-u-din.
A small town cantt theatre
with a smaller gentry.
Huffed and puffed paddling,
triple knit handmade woolens,
A troop of soldiers to make our lives easy.
A neighborhood where we knew everybody,
A gardener's family held to ransom
to cause destruction to army premises
A life where entertainment was sans devices

Some stray thoughts on a random day
Of childhood memories, in Srinagar
the year I turned eight.

Memoirs

The days of self definition,
Those days of freedom.
Living each day of our lives,
With the few, restricted choices at our discretion.

The days of casual conversations,
Intermittent, with spurts of laughter.
Those days of flirtatious admiration.

Novelty, was in all we did.
First-timer adrenaline rushes.
Gasping in horror over breath analyzers,
Post trouble-making and it's ramifications.

In love with multiple people, simultaneously,
Pouring out sighs of adulation.
Only if we could put together someone, that satiated our fascination.

The stolen askew glance to the one we desire, to call sweetheart,
Exchanging polite conversation with their best cohort.
Coffee-dates translating into endless gossip sessions,
Extrapolating multifarious possibilities one dreamed of.

Short-skirts and pleat-less trousers.
Hair styled to perfection.
A let loose, tie.
An air of confidence.
An expression, of the wannabe millionaire.

Cans of coke,
Jargon about the dame and ol’ bloke.
Slangs of generation next,
Rolling of r’s,
Struggling between British and American accents.
Alas! Contemporary hip-hop lip sync, an aspiration.

The coolest gig-
Traditional waltzing in dim lighting with a demure babe.
Driving to hangout joints with blaring tape.
Rally cars, with metallic fenders and modification.
Swatch to flaunt and mobile rescue operations.

Going dutch on fine-dining,
To afford the delectable chocolate cake.
Setting valentine’s as target to get oneself a date.
Movie romances that transported one to dream locations.

Last minute assignments!
What’s with the examinations?
Burning of the midnight candle to get a first glimpse at the syllabus in question.
Scanning the question paper for the eureka moment,
In hope to see something that trigger's our imagination,
Clenching the pen between our teeth,
With our fingers in circular motion,
In deep thought of falling grades,
Anxiety of passing and the commotion within.
Convinced we’d have cracked the paper,
Given just another day of preparation.

So tutorials will be it, parents forceful assertion.
The passport to your future millions, their declaration.
Yeah right! Like group studies were helpful!
So will be yet another commercialized educational institution.

With the best of wardrobe on display,
The best bet to break away from the school uniform, oh so mundane.
To flaunt the recent purchase of imported fragrances,
Wear streaked, treated-hair in any form,
To fall in place or apart, trained to conform.
Torn-denims, anti-fits, low-waists called the shots in the fashion hour
Tees that showcased the arduous work done.
Brief,  flashes of  brand endorsements, where one hadn't gone.

Basketball in hand, heading for a smoke on the court.
Equipped with all the accouterments, to be on the ground.
Football was incidental, cared for the crowd.

The high fives on meeting,
Hugs echoing fraternity,
Friends ganging-up  for the sneak peek of F-TV,
To ogle at the damsels walk the ramp in bikinis.
Discussion about the hottie round the bend,
A new entrant to the colony.

Geeks don’t go far was the mantra,
Have fun, the war-cry
Years from the day of school farewell,
Half a dozen batches or more apart from that day of graduation.
The thread that ties,
The days of self definition,
Those days of freedom,
Is living our life to the fullest,
With the few, restricted choices, at our discretion