Life At Pauls

Of all what I could remember of Indore, I believe the finest  thing that ever happened to me till now was my school, St.Pauls. and when I say Pauls I am particularly referring to Junior Section adjacent to Sat Prachar Press. There could be nothing better ever came to me other than my life at Pauls. It was an unusual and remarkable yet eccentric moments I had lived at this place. Right from the central dome rain dance to ghost stories of washrooms, from feeding rabbits and ducks in the garden to chasing stray dogs in ground, from revenge driven cricket matches against rival groups  to gracious badminton plays after exams, from achieving top grades in class to obtaining exquisitely drawn “0” in Maths test , there’s a ocean of memories and recollections I could carve out of my heart about the place. What we held in our heart and souls was more than just  respect and compassion but the very law of school to which we all were governed-Brotherhood.

      I couldn’t remember any of my friends from other school so firmly gripped to their  roots and to their classmates as much as I was to my fellow mates. That was the power of brotherhood of Pauls. I could still recall each and every teacher that had ever taught me in school from every class. It’s like these faces have been engraved in my mind forever.

    That was the time when, winning a cricket match against rival class brought more joy than acquiring top grades. Time when,  each and every classmate overlooked their differences and stood united for a cause. Time when school appeared more like home. It was an unusual life with unusual people in a more unusual time.

    Being a boy’s school, one cannot accept it to be the  producer of most decent and generous kids. In fact I would call it an insult if ever someone referred to any Paulian as being a “gentlemen” creature. It was the wild wild west of east where every folk was a Sheriff within himself .

    Of all those memories I personally cherish  the most was when there was battle between neighbouring classes. I know it’s cruel, harsh and malicious of me to glorify violence but let me just make an honest confession to it. I admire every time when the whole class would march into the corridors to challenge the other class on petty and cheap issues of chalk-picking, duster-stealing, littering other class with garbage or to just unknown reasons. It was a mother of all UFC and WWE. A great superbowl in which everyone was expected to join to show their allegiance . Kicks landing on people’s asses, broken teeths, a precisely positioned Shoe mark on someone’s face , chalk dust powder in other’s hair , tattered collars and shirt pockets. A spectacular show.  Simply magnificent. Our very own colosseum with it’s nut-cracking and whipped-ass-clown-gladiators.

  One could never expect any more love and care and tenderness from any teacher outside Pauls. It was in fact a blessing to  be awarded with so remarkable and wonderful  teachers ever in my life. I can bet if there ever happened to be a “Moment of Truth” among Paulians many would confess of receiving more from the teachers other their actual parents. Not that their parents despised them but the fact that every Paulian was so famous for their notoriety and unsavoury reputation that the parents would get annoyed half of the time.

And despite all these flaws I still couldn’t stop myself from wondering what made the school so prominent among the city folks, that everyone else wanted  their kid into Pauls. Such was the obsession with Pauls, that had it been for parents they would have enrolled their kids into school as soon as they were delivered out of their mother’s womb. Quite literally. Not that we were gifted and talented in our own way, and I am not exaggerating on that note, that we actually were, there was a side of every Paulian that earned him prestige and dignity in the society. Not just to the kids but their parents as well.

    Class 5^th finished with high percents and it was time to say farewell with heavy hearts and tearful eyes to junior campus and say Hello to the High School. The pentagonal shaped campus appeared huge and stood tall in all it’s glory. Gone was the time of innocence  and playful fights. And the age of Ma******* , Bhen****, Chu****  and all prolific and fertile verbal skills entered . Abuses hurled from every corner of the premises.

“Abe Chu****, kaha pass kar raha hai. Ball ko kick karna nai aata.”

“Oo Bhen****. Aaj toh Maths ka test hai. G**** mar gayi.”

“Abe K****, ek hotdog mere liye bhi le aana. Akele khaya toh teri G*** phaad dunga.”

“Abe kya pakaa raha hai yaar yeh. Kab khatam hoga iska lecture.”

“Aaj toh yeh E-section waalo ki taange tod denge. Bhen**** kabhi fair game nai khelte.

                           Such was the creative brilliance and whiz kids  Paulians were at hurling abuses.

                           Firecrackers and bombs in school washrooms, hanging condoms on boards, wrapping teacher’s vehicle accelerator with condoms, sleeping in infirmary during maths lectures, making obscene sounds while praying for some deceased, giggling during two minutes silence, exchanging answer sheets during exam, watching our first porn on a classmates mobile, putting up a melodramatic show in front of teacher and begging to  assign passing marks, placing dead cockroaches and lizards in someone’s bag, putting glue on  classmates  bench and chalk fights in class. 

                           One specific incident that happened in 7^th grade still makes me fall down from my chair while recalling. We had to remove our shoes in class itself while going to the computer lab. And so it happened that wicked day as well. But as soon as everyone came back for Sanskrit lecture some heightened monkey bug stung all and everyone started hurling shoes over each other. Shoes flying all over , hitting someone right in the face, into the groin, shoes flying out of class, over the ceiling fans and everyone snatching each other shoes to throw. The whole damn class looked like goons set loose in mental asylum. And  then entered our teacher and from nowhere a shoe came flying in it’s glory and hit her with a “Phataak”. Those with more shoes in their hands, a chill ran down their spine. The others could do nothing but look at the teacher in shock and amusement standing still. This freak show was followed by a tight pampering on everyone’s cheeks as a retribution. I somehow escaped the beating, as many of those teachers considered me a shy and decent kid. I still give a evil smile to my friends when they recount the incidents like this  when they had to face the wrath of teacher while I escaped smoothly with a puppy’s expressions on my face. I can’t even keep a count of times when I did all such monkey business wearing a cloak of decency and innocence.

       Then there were other memories of school picnics, Pokemon cards, discussing Dragonball Z saga, video games , hot-dog at Lalit’s canteen, basketball in rain, football in muddy knee- high water, annual function,  jamming sessions at AV room with dilapidated instruments, the Sahodaya volleyball clusters and many more.

             High School was also a time of much more than just boring lectures, Hot dog at Lalit’s canteen and AV  room jams for me. It was also a time for many budding love stories and double the amount of heartbreaks. It’s a fact that no Paulian ever  was successful in the relationship thing. Atleast I never encountered any one till now. The most usual news updates we received was from Raphael’s, the girl’s school next to ours and our school parent branch. So Raphael’s wall was the place where the Shakespeare and Picasso of our school displayed their artistic flair and never there happened a Paulian who had never been on a recce around Raphael’s just to take a look at their crush, paddling on their cycles and then kissing the front of  some random Autorickshaw on the way like a dead fly on wind-screen after colliding.

My life at high school went smooth till 8^th standard. Due to various issues at home my academics gradually declined and issues which I had   with school management and a teacher. I managed to score decent 75% in my 10^th Boards exams but that wasn’t enough to keep me in the school for next year. Problems developing at  home were taking their toll on my nerves. My studies were  ruined completely, demolished to every inch in 11^th standard. And so to get away my mind from family disputes I began to bunk schools, hang out with wrong people, got into a fatal  relationship with a blonde-head and every thing bad that could ever had happened to me. It’s consequences- I was awarded a sweet supplementary in Maths and Chemistry. The final exam result came as a shocking contrast to me.

Obviously, there were others who had met the same fate as mine but that wasn’t going the end of their lives at Pauls. As for me, my doom was all written. My previous issues with school management plus my result gave an easy excuse to school to throw me out.

        Thrown out of the place, that you considered your second  home. Stuff like this is demoralising,shattering,dishearting and fatal . Infact  I couldn’t do well in the subsequent years as well because of this billion kilowatt jolt that hit me. For next 3 years I couldn’t see any reasonable growth or vital improvement in my academics. I ended up in a dingy Engineering College in Indore itself. But it was only till my 3^rd semester, when the university’ s result were out I spotted some significant growth with my studies. I did quite well as compared to previous two semesters.

But to this stage, it wasn’t all dark for me. Life made several revelations about people around me.Dark truths, lies, betrayals,  ambush and all. School mates, relatives…..friends. I promised to myself  that I won’t be regretting the things that went wrong , either because of me or what  the circumstances flinged to me . At the end , of course, I am grateful to those who stood by me when the things turned against me. And no matter how much I try to pay  I am in debt to them forever.

   All I carry now, are the blissful memories of my time at Pauls. I overcame the shock of being expelled. But never ever forget to be cautious before making my next move. In some way or the other , the school did gave me a lesson even in it’s last instant with me. And I could just never make myself hate it even if somehow I want to.

In Memory Of..

 The skies are dark today,wrapped in a sheet of clouds.A cold wind enters through my window. A distinct thought hits me and I’m out like a light. Sometimes I wonder how Insensitive and incumbent our lives have become, how in our hasty lives we’ve been so badly indulged ,so lost, that we often neglected those things,never  bothering to give a damn thought to all that once had been dear to us but taken away.  
     Something that was meant to be everything to you but now it holds as just another remnant from the  past. There is just a fading memory ,degrading with every second passing,with every air  you take and let out.

There isn’t any remorse filled with regret, no more words of sympathies, no remembrance talks.Just a reminiscence  and that too just waiting to be forgotten someday.    We now leads this life of knee-jerk emotions because we hide,ignore or would rather not discuss our real infirmities,our true maladies.

     Just few months back, I was weeping over the departure of my beloved 800 from our home. And today I   don’t even have the time to give her a thought. It’s strange how you learn to overcome certain things that had been taken away from you ,you adjust your life to their absence , you endure and you still survive. And one day forgetting all about it till someone mentions it somewhere, somehow to you. For then, sadly, It had already become a  distinct thought.

 This  one thing  that had been so dear to me all these years of my existence, taken away like it meant nothing but  just a piece of metal and plastic put together. But to me it was more than anything. To me it carried a soul within it.

  My first Car, my love from the very first moment when I learned of  the shear competence and adversaries of our ever growing and progressing but morally degrading world.

The impulse was intense. Such was the impact that I did’nt had my lunch at home when dad gave it away  like some piece of junk. I dispised every single word that insulted her. Afterall I grew with this car, I learned my driving in it.My friends loved her. She was fabulous in every single way and nothing can overcome the joy it delivered when I was driving in it around Ring Road,  or else By Pass.

     A decade old she may have looked in today’s perspective but that never kept me away from getting intimidated with her. Right from it’s  choked grunt in the winter morning’s , a puff of cloud that from the exhaust,the cylinders reciprocating like gyrating to some melody in all it’s glory ,a coughed “beep” , the clinging of the  Axle rod during first few rotations ,that blurp from the engine when I slipped the clutch would be simply unparallel in every aspect and every dimension known and beyond human perseverence. Not to forget,an unusual yet sweet fraganance that filled the cabin, the very first moment you enter this car. The fact remains unaltered and firms that this  particular fraganance was actually exclusive to 800’s only. None of the other car I drove or owned had this air of juvenile fantasy draped around it. Allright, I admit I might be exaggerating too much on that note but actually it worked out for me. I had been overly attached to 800 in particular.

    Well all this I guess wasn’t enough for me to keep her protected and to convince my dad to let me keep her. Even though she was’nt in running condition. Her fate was written.  Separations are always painful and heart-breaking. But even at that  I had no relief, no last words of farewell with her.It must have been a dark night when I learned that she is taken away. Again I consumed this as if it was the fate of both of us. May be we were not meant to say good bye, may be this was all to evade us from that agony and discomfort it could have caused to both of us. 800 must have seen this day coming and did’nt wanted me to be there. I always respected her decisions and choices she made. And now I am just contend to live in her absence and the hole she had created in my heart, I might find it difficult to fill.

The clouds are still dark, but one thing is sure

“There ain’t no sunshine, when she gone .”

Escape

Just yestersay, finally when things seems to be in place and working in Jack’s favour It  came down crashing  within a moment  today. Crazy isn’t it, how an act of insoumountable desperation and  shear idiosyncratic stupidity could cause an influence to your mind and all that to which you were trying to adjust and endure,slowly  crawls back  and leave you in same anguish and frustration you were struggling with and through which you had made your way.

    Jack is once again gripped by same thoughts and bound to live with them,atleast for today,that he witnessed,months back. All of a sudden his liberal communist mind became his ultimate weapon of desire of being a minority suppressing capitalist. On his way back home, he was playing  Anthrax ,Slayer and Machine Head. Evening hours which were reserved for Blues and Country-rock  were now witnessing a sudden urge to play Thrash and Nu-metal.

He was lamenting once again at the limited functionalities of his college mates and even though he dispised the way his own mind was working, he loved every piece of it. Afterall it was just an easy excuse for letting his emotions to reveal themselves in this hour of isolation and abondement.

 This hatred and anger was injected in his soul, deep down in his heart in  a dormant state that would be leaving a scar onto his mind even though somehow he could get rid of it.

 That demon was visible in his eyes and moreover it had now started affecting his brain.A demon he could not get rid of. A darker side to his expeditons and knowledge of oneself.

It was just another side of him, a shadow overhanging over each moment turned into disaster. He could’nt just let it go only suppress it .

A Legend And Love from History -Maruti 800

back in the days of my childhood when the definition of a car was a lot of metal , a cabin large enough to play football in and a big obsolete engine that refused to start on a winter morning. Cars that featured these were the "Fiat Premier Padmini" and the "HM Ambassador".
 I  remember the Fiat that my uncle owned and the struggle we had starting it while going on  outdoors and due to their financially demanding nature not everyone could afford them.
  On weekends, i would spend most of my time in the Fiat on the steering wheel virtually racing against all those odd racers who were keen to destroy my car with their missiles and lasers.mom had to pursuade me out of it for a bath or for a breakfast . back again mom was compelled to get me my lunch in the car itself and at times i often received ocassional pampering on my cheeks which marked her hand on my skin.
Think of that time, and you'll remember Ambys and Fiats looked flabby and round . it seemed that they possesed some extra fat on it's curves than they really need to impress. On the other hand, 800 flaunted the streets with it's beautiful edges and perfectly crafted bodylines.
  It was an unsual evening when dad brought the 800 to the home and parked it outside the premises . there were clouds scattered all over the sky , the sun was about to set and everything else seems to be painted in acrylic. i was still dreaming about it when a loud noise broke my dream and i saw mom struggling to wake me up.To my surprise there was this beautiful lady standing in front of me as i walked through the door . enthralled by its edges and distinctive looks, this snow white was a sheer beauty.   
  Days went on and i began to fall in love with this car.i remember every morning before leaving for office dad used to take me for a ride in neighbourhood in his 800 , and my weekend races against all those phantom racers was shifted in 800 from the old Fiat.
Before the introduction of 800 , this car had to go through a lot of criticism and   abhorrence.this car was a shocking contrast to our defintion of cars  and back in the city where Fiats and Ambys were  the only vehicles seemed on road people exposed to these two fat ladies would find it difficult to handle 800.
the 796cc inline 4-cylinder engine was enough to out-accelerate any Fiat or Amby. As a result , 800 accidents beacme a common sight . wrecked cars could be found everyday in the garage behind my home and people  raised it to the "Hall of Shame". at times it was often referred to as " Maa-Rotti Hai". 
 Later a few sceptical buys and exceptionally happy customers ,almost everyone could afford to this. also it was easier to maintain ,easy to buy and decent fuel economy adds credit to it. personally i believe this car marked the beginning of era for hatchbacks in India.
 Time rolled and 800 went numerous body and engine upgrades to meet the demands. 
 As soon as Maruti launched it's "Alto"  in 2000 , dad switched to it and my 800 became a spectator of the new kid in the house and change. i could feel it's heart weeping under that hood and i began to spend more time with it . 
 Standing in a isolated corner of the house premises she used to watch the same spot which was once occupied by her and where she posed in great attitude and pride , but now her postion was snatched and handled over to the Alto and she was left with nothing else other than to envy her and watch her rolling out everyday . 
 During my class 12th my heart began to fondle again for her and by now i was determined to restore it's pride and position back in my house. i was lucky enough to get my friend Anshul's support who helped me a lot to understand the pros and cons , stats and performance  upgrades . a few bucks spent from my pocket money and a bit contribution from my parents helped me to heal the pain and wounds she went through.
 First time i switched on the engine and and we went crazy hearing the loud noise . "HALLEJUAH !!!!!!"....The car is alive. their was happiness all around . the world seemed to b a better place to live.
since then i am driving the car around the city with great pride and enthusiasm with my friends.my dad is now planning to buy his 3rd car and may be he would now switch to a sedan from a regular hatchback.
  Although 800 is agening now with time  ity still retains it's old charm and smell which makes me to drive her whenever i am near her.
  Officially Maruti has discontiuned the production of 800 as a result of new emission norms let's hope Maruti resurrects the 800 sometime in near future as a new classic . it sold over 2700000 units averaging over 100000 per year. 
800 is retired now and the sales are declined in almost all the major cities in the country .it has became a gloroius tale in the automobile industry 
             "ABSENCE WILL ONLY MAKE HEART GROW FONDER "
Love you...800 ..!!!

Some Days at Coaching.

Baam!!!!!!
The door of the room where i was sitting quietly studying opened up and a man rushed inside. He scanned the room with his suspicious eyes and gave a dismal look at three of us sitting over there.
Next he moved  to the guy at the last bench and asked for his ID card. next it was Himi's turn. He checked her card moved to me. i looked into my bag and
"Damn it!!!  i said to myself.
"I forgot the card at home".
And there goes my careful planning all in vain.
I cursed myself . I must have asked Himi to leave for home that day.

"Ok!! dude. Would you like to accompany me to the front desk and have a little chat". said the receptionist.
"Pick up your glasses and helmet and follow me."

Badly agitated and frustrated i left the room in disgrace.

So now  let me make the situation clear to you.
  It was my lecture going on in the class and I  was bunking it just to read and learn some thing that i felt was worth. Frankly speaking , i was never interested in learning the facts and recalling them like a trained parrot.
In fact , skipping our lectures was the most common thing for Ananya and me . God knows ,how many times we must had skipped our class trying to do something we felt was worth and useful. But things got worse for me when he stopped coming to the class and i was left alone .

Back then , most days were bad because i had to go to that hateful place every alternate day that I began to hate from the very first day i entered it-my coaching class.
I only wished that someone could take me away but I knew there was no point in even asking . I knew the answer would be,"You have to stay there until you had completed your course".

Going to the class did not cheer me up. I did not mind the bad management and lack of comfort , or even the dirt and squalor, but I simply hated the atmosphere of those "nasty weird looking creatures" who always had there head buried deep inside their books and recalling the every word imprinted in it loudly .
It was a strange place with more strange people.

That day I came home and as my head hit my pillow I found myself talking to me .
"Damn man!!! this sucks. what a creepy place.at least you have a room of your own,which is more i can say".my mind said to me.
"At least you live among civilised "Human Beings" . i replied.

MY NUMB MIND WAS STRUCK  WITH A THOUGHT THAT MAY BE I WAS GOING ALL CRAZY and i thought maybe i am going way too far with this and thinking too much about this stuff. I ought to sleep.
Apart from books on automobiles and physics , My only interest was music and i played my 6-strings regularly until my mom asked me to stop. There was enough noise in the house with all the kids howling. but I was tempted to the point that most of the time it was me only who made them howl like hungry wolves , but then decided to say nothing.

  I was determined to leave this town. I was sick of increasing pollution and crude environment and in a hope that may be I could find like-minded people outside.
Back at the class,  I knew a lot of medical students and some of them were even friendly. I mentioned this because I knew that sooner or later I am going to have a nervous breakdown if I stayed any longer.
"Suppose a doctor would say it's bad for me to go to class and I need to get away right from it?"
          I can't imagine a doctor saying that , but at least I must have tried..
         And for a moment I was lost within my own words
      "Oh yeah!!! i am going to have a real nervous breakdown".
   Obviously I had lost my mind when Himi asked me if there's some chemical imbalance in my head.
She was one among those medical friends of mine and her keen interest in human psychology surely helped her a lot to understand my state of mind.

The next few days I spent wondering what to tell a doctor if I really had a nervous breakdown and so most of the time I found myself skipping my lectures and continuing my own studies. I was never interested in learning what they taught in classrooms and with this I was still willing someone to prove that I had a real  problem and thus so I could stay back at home happily doing my own work and also sparing time for my family and friends.

But then,that day all my willingness and tragic expeditions came to an end and crushed to the floor of the room and now I  was surrounded by a handful of those "nasty weird looking creatures" staring at me as if they've seen a ghost.

Never mind , I was held the culprit and the receptionist was about to announce the charges on me and then he asked for the worst thing that can happen to me.
He decided to call my parents .

  I was  scared to death and my heartbeat rapidly.Of all the bad things that could have happened to me this was the worst.Worse than loosing my appetite.Worse than loosing my secretly preserved scale models.
But then I was also a wicked child. I handled him my cousin's Ritu's cell number telling him
"Well,mate you want to call my parents ?? go ahead . Feel free to complain".

Sitting there and staring at the walls of the room I saw Himi passed by . She texted me and asked me to leave for home with her but I was so badly agitated and frustrated that I didn't even cared to smile.
Poor girl!! She waited for me almost for an hour in the blistering cold and finally left in agitation.Later, though I apologised to her .

 It was 7.00 Pm in the clock and finally I decided to leave and walked straight out of the premises where I had spent 5 miserable months,without turning my head to give it a last look.

I  knew  I was going to leave before I knew myself. I hardly bothered to wonder, why I had been sent for ,but vaguely supposed I was to be punished again for my hard work and laziness.

Well, I had finished with my punishment and I was finally happy to be expelled.

I was determined that within next 3 months I would be leaving this town behind and head towards a better place for me.

On my way I saw the same man , the receptionist and passed a evil smile at him.I called my schoolmates Aaron, Mohit, Ronn and Arpit to the "Mugs " and we had a great time over their.

Lately, I could not think of anyone I wanted to say goodbye to before leaving.

Indeed , Himi was the only person in the  town I felt like I wanted to see before I leave the town I had come to hate the most , almost as much as i did my class......