Metro Diaries # 9: The newest stories, Part 2

The Book Suggestion Seeker

If you have an hour to kill in the Metro, and if you're me, you would prefer to spend a good part of it doing something useful—reading, planning your to-do list, getting work done. Recently, my target job for Metro time included reading and reviewing a book called Emotional Rescue by Dgozchen Ponlop (you can find the review here. If you'd care to know, I managed to write 90% of the review using my phone. I'm getting awesomer at this).

I was done with reading, and had nothing else to read, so when I sat down for the evening journey back home, I thought I'd go through the book again and jot down points to write in the review. While I was doing so, I thought the girl sitting next to me was reading whatever I was writing down, so I did that shuffling thing—moving from the writing page to a random reading page, to and fro in quick succession, so that her attention would be diverted. It's not that I don't want anyone else to read what I'm doing, but it just freezes my brain and I can't get another word out if I know someone's looking. Anyway, whatever I did had no effect on her, so I began to skim read the book instead, making points in my mind.

A few minutes later, the girl began to speak to me. She asked what was in the book. Damn! That obviously got me talking fast and quick. She was such an amazing listener--totally interested in whatever I told her, listening with rapt attention, never breaking eye contact. Just the sort of listener you need when you have to talk about books. Soon enough she started asking questions and sharing her problems—how she feels somewhat depressed sometimes and gets swayed by emotions, etc. I was supposed to offer solutions based on what I'd read in Emotional Rescue.

I did whatever I could, but that only got her more interested. Finally, in a voice full of lament, she said, "Oh, where are you getting down?" When I answered, she replied, "Oh, no... I'm getting down at the next station! It was nice to listen to you. Where do you get these books from? Can we get them from the metro station kiosks?"

"Um... you'll only get the popular ones there..."

"What about this one?"

"This has not yet been released. You can give me your email id. I'll write to you about it."

"Okay... and give me your number too!"

"Err... hey! That's your station!" I said, shoving her off the seat. The doors were opening, for heaven's sake!

"Yes! Take my number please!" she said. Her sense of urgency was contagious. I didn't even pause to consider, and whipped out my phone. Then I realized how it was so slow that she might as well reach my station before the phone would get unlocked. Thankfully I had a pencil in my hand.

"Here, write your number," I said, flipping to the last page of the book.

She scrawled her number, said thanks, and dashed out. Just in time.

It took me a week to write to her, and even then I was somewhat at a loss. I rarely read self-help and philosophy, and I honestly don't yet believe in the heavily marketed books in those genres. But they must have something that helps people, or else why would they be so popular? I ended up giving some recommendations based on a mix of what I'd read and liked, and what I thought would be good based on their reviews. A couple of short email conversations, and quite a good number of 'hi's in the metro later (because we recognized each other now), the emotional book saga is at a pause. 

But I'm always there ;)

Scoot gets a new parking place!

 This is not exactly a metro story, but it is related to metro parking space, so I'm including it.

When I first saw the big Pantaloons and Croma opening and functioning under the newly-constructed multi-level parking for which I had been waiting for years and which hadn't been opened to us yet, I had a hard time suppressing the urge to shout foul and rain kicks and fists on someone I could blame the problem. Here I was, hassled every day because they stole the good parking space and spent years constructing that new parking, only to have it made into a mall? Are people mad or what? (Yes, they are)

A few days later, I had to quickly find a dress. Working six days a week meant I did not have time to search a lot of places. Then my awesome (and ever so practical and sound-minded) friend P suggested a solution. "Look for a dress in the new Shopper's Stop at that mall. It's the closest to your place, and it's bound to have something you're looking for."

"Shopper's Stop? That place has a Shopper's Stop? Since when?"

"Uh... it's been around for a while." (and this girl lives miles and miles away!)

So we made our first journey to this place—I, G and mom—and made some useful discoveries.
The parking was huge, albeit a bit scary. But I was pretty much annoyed. Why was I having to look for parking spaces for my beloved Scoot when this mountain had taken our old space and was filling up with shoppers' cars!? A parking attendant came our way.

"Why isn't this a metro parking?" I asked.
"Huh?"
"Wasn't this supposed to be built as DMRC parking space for metro travellers?"
"But you can park your car here just as well," he said.
It was my turn to feel stumped. "You can? Two-wheelers too?"
"Of course. Many people do."
Was it my fault, though? No one ever talks about parking spaces. There was no information that the parking was available once more. However, it is owned by the mall, not DMRC. Not that it makes any difference to the commuters (because the rates are the same).

The next day, full of enthusiasm, I left home a few minutes early to make time for acclimatizing myself with the new parking space. As soon as I rode up the short slope, I was stopped by two guards. They wanted to check Scoot's boot, probably for the dead body of a cat (which is the most it could carry). I hopped off Scoot and showed them that I had no blood on my hands yet. They let me go. After a long path with bumpy speed-breakers at short intervals, there was an automatic ticket-wielding machine (which later became my time-watching-and-guessing-whether-or-not-I'll-be-late-that-day machine). After that, I was directed to a cut separate from the one we had taken the last time.

Riding a two-wheeler, the curved slopes were harder to manoeuvre. Scoot took me down, down, down, slowly. I passed one level but it was closed, and Scoot didn't slow down and it seemed to take forever to circle all the way two floors down. It was with relief that I saw a parking attendant waving at me. Finally, there were more scooters and bikes. Signs of life! In my newfound happiness, I parked wherever the attendant said. Finally, Scoot had a place to feel safe in while I was gone. No longer did it have to stay in the hot sun or endure passersby on its comfortable seat. It could be with its own clan for most of day. Yay!

I was so excited that I forgot to pick the parking slip from Scoot. Thankfully I realized it halfway to the elevators, and went back and got it. Now, and this is weird and 'only-in-India'ish, there were no stairs. Only elevators. I am scared of elevators. I would always take the stairs whenever possible. It took five minutes more than usual to reach my platform with the new parking space. Not bad. Except that I don't even have the capability (or the motivation) to reach soon every day, so sometimes I use the new place (I feel good on those days), sometimes I get late for work, and sometimes when I've been late enough, Scoot has to stay in the sun again.

***

I'm bored. Hopelessly bored. My head aches, my arm aches, my leg aches and so does my heart. Sometimes I feel so lost and oh so hopeless. What am I ever going to do in life? I need a good job. No, an "easier" job. The one I have is good, but not easy to manage. I need time for personal work, because I'm never satisfied with spending my days only working for someone. I want to work for myself, too. And it gets so difficult sometimes. I need a break. And I'm going to get one s soon. More about it later. I only hope it works well.

Metro Diaries #8: The newest stories, Part 1

I thought I was done with stories from, and related to, the metro train in Delhi. I'm seriously so trusting (and thus, such a misfit in this ever-increasing-stupid-mindless-selfish-society, but that's a story for another day). There are just thousands and thousands of people shuffling on and off from the Metro every day, so that it's quite obvious you would come across an incident some time. I'm sharing two (of four) of the latest metro-related updates today. The other two will follow soon.

1. The Kumbhkarana Girl

I'm a light sleeper, except on some nights when I've had a super-exhausting day in both body and mind (mostly mind), and even in those rare times I wake up feeling guilty and all-wrong. How could I have slept through without knowing when G got sick and Mum gave him medicines? What if I'm the only one with someone who got sick in the night and isn't able to speak and I'm sleeping soundly!? Or worse, what if there's an earthquake and I'm sleeping without feeling it? You get the point: I'm not happy being a heavy sleeper. Strangely, I never thought much about other people sleeping light or heavy, or caring about it, or even observing it. Until that day in the metro.

The station I get down to reach office is one at the end of a line, so that if you don't deboard, you can go back the same line. I got up from my seat about half a minute before the train was to stop, gave a cursory glance around the nearly-empty coach, and saw a girl in a corner seat, her head angled back against the train wall. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open. She was asleep. The train rocked a little as it shifted tracks, it shuddered, people shuffled to the doors, but the sleeping girl did not wake up. I decided to shake her awake if she wasn't up even when the train stopped.

The train stopped and she was still asleep. I went to her and gently placed a hand on her arm so as not to alarm her, and said, "Excuse me." I admit, I was even softer than I had expected. Not even a sharp cat would have woken up with it. I tried again, much more enthusiastically because the doors had opened. "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me!" With each "excuse me" I hardened my grip and shook her more and more, and with each try, my heartbeat rose and anxiety set in. People from the platform had begun to enter. If I wasn't quick, we would be locked inside. I tried again, shaking her by the arms and the shoulders, trying not to look at her open-mouthed state of Kumbharaness. Suddenly, a wave of something deep passed through me. I felt my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach. My grip on her loosened for a moment, and I clutched the metal bar instead. Horrific thoughts washed through my (now proven, over-imaginative) mind. The moment passed just as soon as it had come, and with new vigour, I shook her again, dropping all politeness. It seemed to work.

With a gasp, her mouth shut close, her eyes opened, and her head left its headrest, all at once.

"Come on, it's the last station," I said to her. It was all I could do to not take her hand and quickly lead her out.

"What?"

"This is the last station!" I said, using more animation than words. I wasn't sure she could understand me. She made to get up, and I finally left the coach. But that's not the end of the story. The good Samaritan in me stopped me from going further, and I turned around to look. She was walking out of the doors, clutching the bars for support. Her footsteps were uneven. I went back to her.

"Are you all right?"

She only looked around with a confused expression. She did not answer my question.

"Are you all right?" I repeated. "Where did you have to get down?" By then, it was clear that she was lost.

"Huh? Where have I come?" she said. Her eyes were bloodshot. I wondered how much time it would take her to be fully awake (and also how she would even manage office that day). I told her the name of the station and asked her again where she was supposed to get off. She named a station we had left about fifteen minutes ago.

"You can get in this same train. It will go back," I said, tempted to push her inside the still-open doors.

"Really?" she said, which made me wonder where her consciousness really was.

"Yes, yes... go quickly."

She shuffled towards the doors, paused a moment, and then turned to walk towards the other end of the train. (Possibly because, even in her disturbed state of mind, she was conscious of the fact that the coach was no longer women-only). But by that time I was quite late for work, so I left her to it. She was, at least, walking straight all by herself.

2. Babysitting in the metro

By now I have pretty much realized that what I have in my mind is hardly ever to be seen in reality. I actually sometimes believe that people would behave with manners and courtesy because I am a total stranger to them, and also because I'm not even saying anything to anybody. But I keep forgetting our awesome culture of brotherhood, which, apart from making people think they have rights to eavesdrop, look into other's messages, and stare shamelessly, also gives them this strange illusion that everyone else is their close relative, someone who could be asked to do things without thinking whether or not they want to. And sometimes those requests are just ridiculous.

It was an over-stuffed train, and I was feeling lucky that I had a seat (about the only positive thing about the location of my office). It's a different matter that I was being squeezed on both sides because people believe in the two-people-per-seat concept rather than how it should be. I tried flipping the pages of my book using only my fingers, because I could not move my arms. The ladies/women/girls on both sides of me were busy with their cell phones. My bag was somewhere near my feet, and my knees were being crushed by women standing stuck to the seats. There really was not an inch of breathing space.

From a station, some more women somehow squeezed in--which was accompanied by the oohs-and-aahs-and-ouchs of those inside--and managed to come near where I was sitting (which was in the middle of two doors, not even a corner). I could not see them, but I heard a loud woman speaking to her daughter-in-law (or maybe the crowd in general), about making space and adjusting a little boy. Inch by inch people moved, right in front of me, making space for a boy of about three, pushed by his grandmother. He stood in front of me. I could not avoid looking up. The grandmother asked us to make space for the boy.

My first and foremost thought was, "where?" And then since no one was getting up, with an audible sigh I slowly closed my book, and moved to stand up, wondering how on Earth would I get space to even stand. "No, no... keep sitting," said the grandmother. "Only make him sit with you." As was obvious, there was no possibility of even a three-year-old being 'adjusted', so I had to be the inevitable volunteer. I took the kid in my lap.

It would have been all right had I been left alone after that, but one, even if a kid looks small, he will be HEAVY, especially when he is asleep. Because he was so drowsy even when standing, that he shut his eyes and went to sleep as soon as I took him. And two, the others seemed to find this cute, so they simply sat staring at us, while I tried to keep a hold on my stuff, which I ultimately had to hand over to the girl next to me. For the next quarter of an hour, I shifted however possible to adjust with the kid's lolling head (which kept dropping to one side).

I'm glad it lasted only that much time. No wonder it was unexpected and funny, and I'm wondering how and why such things keep happening with me! I have two more stories to share, which I'll write and post as soon as I can. :) I also have a really cool update, which will also wait until the next post! Keep reading!

Some days are just luckless!

I discovered this in the drafts folder, half-written. It belongs to a wintry day in December.

I shouldn't be writing it down, because writing about anything gives it prominence, and if I give it prominence, I'll see more of it thanks to law of attraction (which works). But how else am I supposed to take it lightly? If I don't write it down on my blog, I'll keep thinking about it and stress over it and waste some more of my extremely limited, very precious time. Coming to the point, my day today was such that I can safely (and sadly) call it a day with the worst luck possible. (All right! I'm exaggerating, but sometimes you have little patience and then it gets tested in the most severe way!)

On some unlucky days...

In my current workplace (which has the worst rules, being a six-day work week in the first place), we are allowed to come late to work on three days a month ONLY, after which you start having your late days counted as leaves, and once you exhaust the limit of leaves (which is a paltry two days a month), you start having your pay cut for the day. (The one who made such rules will die.) I didn't think much of it before because I always reached well before the late time for the first two months. And then, as a commenter on one of my previous posts helpfully observed, came winters, when it became a bit too hard to get out of the warm bed in the chilly weather and be in office on time. Now, the 'late' mark is applicable even if you are a mere few seconds later than the deadline (which is so sadistic anyway!). In December, I reached late thrice just in the first week. It's not just the matter of getting up, but the entire thing of having to don so many clothes, dealing with your lethargic reflexes, rushing to the station and running on the platform to reach the 'right' train on time. It's maddening! And then there's the whole mad crowd of people in the metro, which is an entire issue altogether. To cut a long story short, I had to, in fact have to, be on time this entire month or else just work for the company for free (which they don't deserve, because they're already eating my head off for a bargain that suits only them).

I haven't even begun on the day. Ugh! I woke up fairly on time, did everything on time, but somehow, because it is just so cold, I got 5 minutes late and set off at an alarming 8.20 (my absolute latest before this was 8.16). Scoot catches a cold in winters and needs half a minute's warming up before it can start, so I put it in position while it warmed up, and then set off speedily. Having crossed two blocks, I realized I hadn't picked up my phone. Cursing everything I saw, I turned around and zoomed back, got the phone and started again, having actually lost hope for being on time today. Still, I'm a hard nut to crack, so I held on to shreds of hope, and found a place for Scoot under the tree where the roosting birds who use Scoot for their droppings, live.

The metro was packed, but after half an hour, I found a seat (yay!). It was still five minutes till deadline, so I walked and half-walked-half-ran with as much speed possible (because you haven't seen the crowd at that station, either in number or in type). The usual auto-ricksha driver waved to catch my attention (and such are his marketing skills that I'm now accustomed to look for him) and I gratefully sat in the auto. There was an armada of autos and buses on the road, but thankfully the driver seemed to be in as much a hurry as I was, or perhaps my sense of urgency was so tangible that he sensed it, so we got a clear road pretty much within a few seconds. There was some delay because the roads were bumpy, and I ended up punching in my finger 45 seconds after the deadline. There! Perhaps my labour of the day wouldn't even fetch me my dues (and I worked so hard today. Sucks).

The day finally ended. I take a lift from one of my co-workers, who came ten minutes late. When we finally moved, there was such a traffic jam as we never saw before. It was HUGE. That was when I actually imagined and saw the level of insanity in traffic and population explosion. The actual explosion for me came when my lift-giver said that since traffic wasn't moving an inch, she'd have to take an alternative route, and she actually convinced me that I could get to the station faster if I walked. I got down amidst traffic and started walking on the so-called pedestrian path (which was so high that you’d have to scramble on top of it instead of just step on it, like it should be!). As I stumbled along, because the path was not only high and broken but also uneven, cars, two-and-three wheelers, trucks (and cows) started moving because the traffic jam kind of broke. Talk about timing!

I’d ideally have wanted to take the opposite road, which was where my preferred metro station entrance was, but with such mad traffic (and mad people) it’d only have been inviting death, and I don’t fancy a death at their hands. As a result, glaring lights from thousands of vehicles met my eyes, making me stumble even more, especially as it had got dark by then and I had just realized, for the first time, that there was a large space on my right, dense with trees and bushes and whatever else. My breath came in sharp gasps and my heavy bag felt even heavier on my back. It was all I could do to hurry and not get kidnapped (because of course, these are common, everyday things in our fantastic country). I’m not even mentioning the horrid smells that met me each time I breathed just enough to avoid passing out. 

After what seemed like years, but were perhaps ten or fifteen minutes in reality, I reached the station and ran upstairs, not looking at anybody and promising to leave this job asap! (Still hasn’t happened. Anyone reading this knows of a workplace that is situated in a decent-enough area? PLEASE tell me) 

I don’t recall what happened after that. The train would definitely have been extremely full, I wouldn’t have got a seat (even when the train starts from that station), and I would have narrated the details of the day with much screaming and cursing at home (as a matter of fact, I do remember this). By the time I would have written half of this post, I’d have been tired and left it to complete later, never getting around to do it until today, when it seems irrelevant but is better than boring work at boring work! (It’s not always boring. Today is just one of those Fridays I feel angry that I have to come the next day too.)

If luck was measured in days, it was the worst luck day! :X

And this world is a madhouse.

Kbye.

PS—Not really bye, because I have to update! I’ve been busy with something… a secret project, say…and it’ll keep me occupied like anything till at least the next three weeks. After that, I might have some time to write and post the thoughts of my befuddled mind, but I’ll only let you in on the secret when the time is right. Wait for it!

PPS—Post December, I’ve entirely stopped bothering with keeping time to each minute in the morning. Even if I’m 5 minutes late, I’m still coolly devouring my current read (The Lord of The Rings right now), because so much of anxiety is just not worth it! Those who complain can go to hell.

Unrandom Updates!

Heylo beautiful peepul! Have I been missing from this lovely space for ages or what? And it's not a very good thing, considering how I've been learning and experiencing and thinking so much that it should be put down. I mean, when I'm 60 and bored and reading my old posts, it would suck if I wouldn't even remember how I changed, right? Plus, one of you lovely readers mentioned how I haven't updated the blog since forever, while wishing me a happy happy birthday, which was so sweet, so this is for you! (For those who don't know, this *very* talented blogger's birthday has just passed. I'm still accepting wishes. *wink wink*)

Back to the point. This is not a very random post, as you intelligent people might have inferred from the title already (duh), even though it's not entirely planned either. I just realized there have been incidents and stuff that should be recorded for future reference, hence, the post. My life's been... what do we call something that seems boring on the surface but isn't? I've been enjoying my work life so far, and I don't mean we party in office all the time (except for the occasional ordering-out food nearly twice or thrice a week, which has very conveniently made me unfit for almost all my clothes!). What I mean is that it's the work I'm enjoying so far. It's kind of cool. Heck, it's very cool! And I say it seems boring because well, normal people won't understand it. It looks boring on the surface, but I love it. So yay! Besides, have I been feeling all mature or what? I so have a separate post ready to talk about the gyaan stuff I have realized. I can't wait to put it down! 

Back again, to this post. (I think I have ODD - Obsessive Distraction Disorder)

# 1: Scoot-ery adventures!

I just recalled after coining this term, that my grandmom used to call Scoot, scootery. :') I know. I inherited my cuteness from her. 

You'd know by now how Scoot forms an imperative part of my life. She is the reason I even reach office (and previously, colleges and tuitions and grocery stores and what-not), and it's obvious that I'd have a range of stories relating to her, some of which I've mentioned before. So for the.... fourth? Fifth time, without any inkling as to what was going to happen, I set out for office. It was 9 am in the morning. (OK, I was late. So maybe ten minutes after that) Just as I reached 1/5th of the distance to reach the metro station, Scoot stopped and refused to restart. Dragging it aside, I tired a few times, not bothering to try the kick-start because it was cold, and who wants to get their feet hurt in such a weather? So after some fruitless tries, it finally dawned on me. Uh oh. I had, as always, ignored mom's warnings and dad's rules, and not checked the quantity of petrol (the petrol indicator is moody, so it's become kind of non-trustworthy). 

Scoot!

Putting the helmet aside (still haven't got a purple one), I opened the rubber seal and peeped inside. *Gulp* The petrol tank was dry. I had no idea how that was even possible. I'd got a lot of petrol for Scoot just some days ago! Or was it weeks? Time passes by so quickly that we don't even realize it. How was I to realize it in the case of petrol, of all things? I called dad, who, after laughing at me first (I heard that, dad -_-), asked me what I'd do now. Since the petrol pump was a little distance away, I figured I'd just drag Scoot there and get it filled up. Dad wished me luck and hung up. See? That's called confidence. ;)

So yeah, donning my bond-avatar in a matter of seconds, I set to work. Got Scoot to cross the road and started walking with it to the petrol pump, which was actually fun. To begin with, I got started on the much-needed exercise in the fresh morning air. Then I'm assuming that the glances I received from random people were appreciative, and not piteous. Since I was anyway late, I decided not to worry and just chill in the winter chill. :P Finally when it was my turn at the petrol pump and the guy opened the tank to fill some in, he looked at me wide eyed. 

'But this is entirely empty!' he said, nearly hysterical. 

Now, why do people worry about strangers so much? I almost wanted to pat him on the shoulder and say, 'It's all right dude. I'm fine.'

'Yeah I know,' I replied. 'I dragged it all the way.' *hides a smile*

I'm sure he must have kept my story to narrate to his friends and family, just like I did. 

# 2: Happy Birthday!

Birthday was cool this year. I think birthdays help us realize the level of closeness we have in all sorts of relationships! Think about it. You get to see your current status of harmony with different people, which of course, keeps fluctuating throughout, but it becomes oh-so-clear on birthdays. That's a different point, though. Beginning this year, I started sharing my birthday with someone else in the family. He's a cute little nephew, who I obviously love more just by virtue of being born on the same day. :P Since it was his first birthday, the family had a grand celebration, and in all of it, I ended up meeting my extended family, all of whom warmly wished me too. To add to that, they had a separate cake and all for me as well, so that was a beautiful surprise. We ended up having a gala time - food, fun, dance, pictures, jokes, chocolates and lots of love!

That's not all. That was also the day when I formally began a year-long mission I've set with dad. We have this idea about exploring Delhi, together, throughout the year and document it all. There is this old gurudwara behind Humanyun's Tomb where I had once been as a kid, and just the memory of it made me love it so much. We went there in the morning and that's the first place we visited as part of that plan. Isn't that awesome? :') If any of you have ideas about how this can be made to work out better, do write to me!

Gurudwara Damdama Sahib, Delhi

# 3: The Candy Kid

There's a house being constructed near my place, on a road that I use every evening. One of such evenings, I spotted a candy-floss bhaiya outside our gate and just for the sake of childhood, got one and started walking to the gurudwara nearby. It took just one small bite to realize that I could never finish it, what with being mentally allergic to sweets and all. That's when I spotted this tiny kid doing something comical in front of this construction house, while a woman in a red sari, presumably his mother, looked on, smiling at him. His eyes found the pink wad of cotton candy in my hands and he stood still, while his mother transferred the smile on to me.

'Will he have this?'

The woman nodded.

The kid nearly snatched it away and with a shout of joy and a tumble of words on top of his voice, went running inside to show it to his siblings. 

The next time I found the candy bhaiya, I got one for the kid. But the kid was not at home, so I handed it to the delighted mother. On my way back, I saw three grown-ups - the red sari woman and another couple, sharing bits of candy and having it. Who says candy's only for little children? :')

# 4: Photographic Happiness

It was a weekend, and I was home. Recalling my pre-MBA days, I picked up a book and my camera and went to the park. It was afternoon, and that time of the year when flowers actually bloom and birds, real birds actually happen to be on those flowers! While I was busy clicking tiny spiderhunters, a group of kids came running from nowhere and scrambled towards the swings, shouting and rejoicing in merriment. After a while, a young girl called out to me.

'Didi! Hamari bhi photo le lo!'

She seemed to be the leader of the group, barely ten years old. I set out to click some candid, and some not-so-candid pictures as the group slowly warmed up to me, and to the idea of getting their pictures clicked. They told me their parents worked 'somewhere just outside the block', and that they're here to play and usually stay till evening. They seemed delighted when they saw their pictures on the camera's screen, so I told them that I'd get some of them printed and get those for them. 

'Didi, isko de dena meri photo. Mai school jaati hu,' said the group leader, pushing forward a tiny girl who matched her features. Her sister, probably.

Smile!

Two weeks later as I made my way into the park with a brown envelope in hand, it was amazing to see how, when the lead-girl recognized me, shouted out for everyone to come over and they all came running up to me. Their excitement was contagious, and you had to look at the restraint and control they had! While I carefully laid down the photos for them to choose, there was hardly any pushing around, and the little ones waited while the eldest handed them the photos in which they featured. The next second, the group leader put her thin arms around me in a hug and asked me to click some more. 

What did I get out of it? Happiness. Was it charity? No. It was just something I felt like doing, at that moment, never realizing how much it can mean to a bunch of kids whose parents are everyday labourers in a city like Delhi. I also saw how these kids, deprived of most things those middle-class and above take for granted, are much more capable of patience and discipline. Can you imagine handing a thin sheet of a picture to a five year old in your family, fully trusting them to take care of it? With the way I've seen so many brutes, I can't do that. But these children did, holding those pieces of paper like they were delicate treasures, which I suppose for them, they were.

# 5: The Work Life

Life as a professional worker is so different from college life, although I realized that it is up to a person to make it different. For me, it's something that suits me more than college, because here, I can really, actually do what I think is right without worrying that much about the mundane things. Probably because I was exhausted by the end of it, I prefer this life way more than college. It's more empowering, it's more satisfying (dealing with sensible people rather than being forced into a classroom with weird people) and it's a lot more about learning. Again, it depends on how you perceive it and how seriously you take it. 

For those of you just out of college, or going to be out of college, I'd suggest you to put in your best, plan everything and do the kind of work you want to, in the way you want to. It might not be possible initially, but if you know where your goal is, that journey would feel great. You'll meet nice people, you'll learn amazing stuff, and trust me, you won't miss the masti in college as much as you think. You might just feel too grown up for all that stuff, like I do these days. I know, I sound like a 35 year old, right? But that's just the truth. And that mostly applies to work. It is now that I feel truly at peace with myself, it is now that I have begun to understand myself, and this is something everyone must experience in order to live happier lives. 

Psst: I have a new blog for my adventures at the work place, but it won't disclose my identity. I got it up more than a month ago, but there are no posts yet. If you'd like to read it too, send me an email and I'll let you know what that is! Provided though, you fill in a secrecy form where you pledge not to disclose my identity, failing which the curse with which the form is bound, would befall on you. (Told ya I'm a witch. If you still don't know how, read my previous post already!) So that's really up to you, and for those really interested.   

# 6: Culinary Crafts

I want to start this point with a LOL, but since that'd be self derogatory, I won't. I'm someone who is so not interested in cooking. I respect it a lot, because that's how I get to eat food in the first place, and some dishes just look like a work of art, but I don't particularly feel inclined towards cooking anything myself. Except recently, sometimes, I do. Don't ask why, because I don't know it myself. So whatever, I liked this page on Facebook where recipes by Masterchef Pankaj Bhadouria are shared, and today, I made this dish called Paneer Hariyali Tikka, except that I added baby corn and mushroom to the mix (umm. Not a very good idea). But it was still yum, so you can check it out too!

The point here was how I managed to make it. For someone who's the nightmare of chefs, it can be difficult. I decided to check for ingredients in the afternoon, so I could get what was missing in the meantime. As soon as I opened the fridge, I realized dad had been to the mandi today, so it was loaded with vegetables. I needed mint and coriander. There were about five different bundle of leaves in front of me. How is someone supposed to differentiate? I knew how mint should smell, so the first bundle that felt like mint was taken aside. I knew how spinach looked like, so that was out. By way of this shortlisting, I was left with one bundle, but that was not coriander. Because coriander leaves have a design, and these were plain. (Stop laughing already, you -_-)

Me: *calls G* What are you doing?

G: Having lunch. 

Me: How are we supposed to differentiate between dhaniya and pudina?

G: *pause* What did you say?

Me: HOW SHOULD I RECOGNIZE DHANIYA?

G: *munches his own lunch*

Me: Dude, I need to cook something for dad and I can't find dhaniya. I'll whatsapp you pictures, tell me which one is that, okay?

G: *bursts out laughing* You're crazy.

Me: -_- Whatever. Sending them soon.

I'm not explaining anymore, since you're probably guffawing by now, or already left the blog thinking what a crackpot I am. In either case, here, take this stare --> -_- and know that I don't care. Huh. 

In the end, this was the result. And it tasted good. ;)

Are you still reading? Are you awesome or what? :') If you reached here, leave a comment so I'll know who all deserve a bone-crushing hug. Until next time, see you! *_*  

PS- Does anyone remember I started a meme called Theandric Thursday? The most ardent follower of it recently posted a TT post. Check it out here.