Getting Old at 24

To some people, the age of 24 years might seem as far away from being termed old as it could possibly be. But getting old is more of a mental state of being than a physical one. You could still be able to walk miles at a stretch and not feel tired, but even as you walk, the past and future haunt you even as the present seems uncertain. 

And not so long ago, I found the whole concept of a Mid-life crisis a bit vague and out of place.

I guess I am beginning to enter that age when nothing on Facebook seems interesting anymore. My friends keep requesting me to get out there and solve some criminal cases, perhaps play some Poker, but I guess I am too old for games now...maybe in a few months my Facebook Timeline will look like that of all the other "old people" who maintain Facebook pages for God knows what reason!

Instead, all I ever seem to want on a weekend is a good book to read and a nice, peaceful nap that goes on and on.

It doesn't hit you like a brickbat, mind you. It creeps up onto you and before you realize  you are introduced as "uncle" to small kids, and addressed similarly by certain ladies with a distorted sense of the passage of time.

It occurs around the time you file your first Income Tax Return. Your family starts taking you seriously and your advice on financial and social matters is eagerly sought and duly noted, instead of being brushed off as immature as should have been the rule before having filed said return.

Money matters take the first hit. Unlike earlier, when money would have at best been associated with a smartphone or laptop budget, you start contemplating your investment portfolio and devising tax-saving schemes to save some hard-earned money from ending up in government coffers.

Then come fairly small, almost unnoticeable things. One day you miss an eagerly awaited cricket match due to work, and the next thing you know, you have lost all interest in such childish pursuits. I do not even remember the last time I watched a cricket match on Television or even cared to turn to the Sports page at the end of the newspaper.

It is the time when you contemplate life-altering decisions while walking to office eating an apple, standing in the shower, waiting for your Burger at Mc Donald’s (on second thoughts, they have a pretty decent service and plenty of distractions (:P) around so let us count that out). You no longer care about the stares from the onlookers while you stare straight ahead of you deep in thought like a perpetual visionary.

Well, to be fair, I have always been a bit out of place for my age group. My idea of "Aaj Kuch Toofani karte hain" (Let's do something rash today!) still involves reaching the Bus Stop 5 minutes earlier instead of the standard waiting time of 15 minutes. Minus all the Harry Potter, Disney and Batman movies, I am a pretty intense character.

It is just that for the first time in my life I am missing the innocence of my childhood. Back then, life was pretty simple, you do your homework on time, watch Disney Hour, write your exams, and play for 1 hour in the evening.

But now, there are such a large number of variables involved in my life, I can’t comprehend the order of the differential equation that shall solve my woes! And all this when the most potent complexity (or so I have been told), the Female conundrum is yet to hit me!

I hope that this complex, uncertain phase ends as quickly as it began. But for now, it seems like a particularly long wait!

The Boy Who Had Three Birthdays

As a kid, I liked birthdays.

Okay, so what, everyone likes birthdays, what’s new about that?

No, when I say I liked birthdays, I mean it in a crazy way, as are most of the other things in my case.

I simply loved birthday parties, especially when they were mine.


You know, the usual, you get to cut a cake, everyone in the class stands up and sings happy birthday, you distribute toffees to the whole class and the teachers, you get to eat your favourite dish i.e. Chhole Puri with your friends and the most important one: you get presents, the element of mystery while opening the present, and the joy one feels if the said present turns out to be a toy!

For a good amount of time, birthdays had become major milestones in my life. The only problem with the things you like is, you eventually start wanting more of them. That’s what happened to me.


I distinctly remember that particular day.

I was in senior kg back then. That day one of the kids celebrated their birthday in the class. Now, it had been 4 months since I celebrated my 4^th birthday. But I guess you all know how we have a slightly distorted view of the concept of time as kids.

So, when I got back home, I asked my mother when is my birthday coming? She looked quizzically at me. “You just had your birthday 4 months ago, dear. It will come next year now.”


Wrong answer. Tantrum time!!


“But ABC (Okay, it is good enough I remember this incident; Bacche ki jaan loge kya???) had his birthday today. Even XYZ had his birthday yesterday; So, why can’t I have my birthday?”


“Dear, your birthday comes on first may. Today is XX August. Now, count how many months are still left to your birthday? (Yeah, that’s how my mother manipulated me into math and stuff)

“No, that won’t do. You are lying. It's been such a long time since my birthday. It should have come by now!  I want my birthday today.

And either the tantrum must have been terrible or I must have been a very persuasive child, for what happened next does not generally happen with normal kids.


What I next remember is myself latching on to my mother’s finger, as she would first take me to the shopping center to buy toffees; and then to my school. Since, it was KG, we had school only until 1130 in the morning. So, by now only the teachers would be left at school.

My mother would take me to the staff room where all the teachers would still be sitting, where I would distribute the toffees as my mother would stand aside apologetically. I didn’t know back then, but now I suspect there must have been some back-channel talks between my mother and the teachers before all this. Done with the teachers and if I recall correctly, the principal too; the rest of the toffees would be distributed to all my playmates in the evening.

The elder ones would ask me. "How is it that your birthday comes so early every time?"

And I would proudly tell them. " I have my birthday two times every year", as all of them looked on in wonder and as I like to believe, envy too.

At night, there would be Chhole Puri in dinner for me. And I would be satisfied.

But not for long.

In fact, I had three birthdays that year. The two fake ones working out in exactly the same fashion.

As I grew older, and got a hang on the concept of time; I started finding joy in my friends’ birthdays, so there was no need to celebrate my own every 4 months or so!

Vyom (An Ode to a dear friend), Purbash, Pranjal; their birthdays became the new milestones in my life. I would enjoy all that I did in my own birthdays in theirs too. I learnt to share happiness.

Fast forward to adolescence.

Over the years, I turned into a reclusive being. I did not like large gatherings (Not a party person). I scoffed at the very idea of wasting money in parties when more than a million Indian kids go to bed on an empty stomach.

But, now I am loosening up. The last year has opened up my character quite a bit. I do not know if it is for better or worse; I guess I will just do it and see how it works out for my conscience. So, after ten years, I am going to celebrate my birthday once again.

Back Benchers- Embracing the Dark side of Force

From ever since I can remember, I have been sitting on the very front benches of the class; right from kg, and through my college days.

Though I believe the practice must have started off as a consequence of my less than average height and poor eye-sight; the fact remains that the front benches have been the most prominent of the many constants of my student life.

Anyone who has had the fortune, or rather lack of it, of sitting on the front benches, might concur with me, that doing so requires the rare combination of concentration, stamina and patience.

Concentration and unwavering attention, for when you find the topic interesting enough; patience to still be attentive towards a topic, that in your personal opinion, the world could better do without. And above all, stamina, not to inadvertently tear away your mouth in a silent roar (yes, I mean yawn) when the speaker is standing right in front of you.

If not for these virtues, sitting on the front benches is pretty much a suicide mission, best left to trained professionals or adrenalin junkies.

So, having not had the experience of ever having sat on the back benches, I was in a bit of a fix when during one of the Soft-skills training sessions that I have at work, I found all the rows occupied, except for the very last one. For a few seconds, I just stood at the entrance, as if somehow people at the front would start vanishing into thin air to make place for me.

Now that I think about it, I must have looked awfully stupid doing that.

Well, so I reached at the back of the room and occupied a seat. And the class began.

Life at the centre of the crowd

Have you ever stood beside a busy road teeming with traffic?

Have you ever looked closely as a mob of strangers passes by, going about their lives completely oblivious to your existence?

You will never set your eyes on some of them again, while many others will whizz past you every day and it would still not matter.

There is a small boy balanced precariously on the lap of an elder, his face all scrunched up, as he tries to make the best of whatever small space he has been allotted, while trying to shield his eyes from the sun. He is waiting eagerly, for this journey to end, simultaneously longing to become old enough to command a seat of his own in this small family car catering to the 8 members of this middle class family.

Suddenly our eyes meet. He seems curious, as he momentarily sidelines his discomfort and smiles at me. I look away as the old Maruti 800 speeds past.

I scourge around for my next target.

There is a seemingly well-to-do and successful gentleman sitting in the back of a Honda City obviously being driven around by his underpaid driver. The driver doesn’t seem to complain, or perhaps he doesn’t have a choice.

A small girl is being driven back home by her mother from her school on the Activa. She seems happy. It reminds me of the school days. Suddenly, an unruly biker scares her by his excessively loud honking. Her mother is way too experienced to let that affect her as she nods her head disapprovingly and moves out of the way. The girl spots me in the midst of the crowd and looks on quizzically as they too speed past me.

The children are more aware and observant than the elders.

After a minute or two, an old man, pushing his laari selling nuts halts in front of me, out of breath from roaming around in the scorching sun. He looks on expectantly at the crowd on the bus-stop, his gaze lingering over me a moment longer, what with me staring at him.

I look away, again.

I am hygiene conscious.

That is a polite way of stating that I don’t consider what he sells or eats as edible.

I make a silent vow to help such people once I start earning on my own. Deep inside, a part of me doubts the sincerity of that commitment.

The old man looks around, sighs, and resumes his unending journey.

Suddenly a crowd of people starts converging onto the main road. The bus has arrived. Thus, ends another uneventful day in the life of India.

Ambition, Prosperity, Flexibility, Poverty and above all, Indifference. That is India for you.

Endless Possibilities...

With the end of the final year, many of my friends have been overcome with feelings of sadness and nostalgia. Almost every day I see a new sentimental message on Facebook, with a number of others liking it. A slew of photo albums invariably titled the by now clichéd expression “Clg Life” have invaded the facebook. It seems like an over-extended "Ekta Kapur Cry series". From the other end where I stand, they all seem way too attached to a place, trying desperately to hold onto something which we always knew was a temporary preparatory phase for the real thing.

What is college life? It is like when a tourist on one of his vacations goes to the Alps, sees a particularly magnificent and beautiful view and hopes that that moment never ends. So, he stands there, clicks photos, and even after going back home can’t get those moments out of his head; but don’t forget; living in the Alps, looking at the wonderful scenery isn’t going to earn you 4 lakhs a year, to have a life, a family, to contribute to society and development of mankind.

Similarly, college life is like a vacation each of us takes, we learn something, we find something beautiful (I am just being metaphorical here :P) and worth remembering, but real life lies ahead, where we work as engineers, scientists, designers, teachers. That is the point of our existence. Not to appreciate the Alps, they are just a diversion, a break, a small sub-chapter in the larger subject of life. The point is to experience each and every aspect of society and mankind and move on to the next, until, there is nothing more left to see.

To me, it is going to be the beginning of the best time of my life. I may seem like a "Cold-hearted bastard" and maybe I truly am one. It has already happened to me twice. On leaving school, I was way too happy to get emotional like my other friends. This is because, I have always wanted to be treated as a mature adult, to have a job, to engage in discussions related to politics, economy, and work over dinner at parties, just like adults do. Until now, people have never taken me seriously, which makes me regret my present status as a student. So, each transition makes me even more excited.

Likewise, there are two ways of looking at what we have had in the last 4 years. One is that we keep looking back at the path and end up tripping ahead, or take a final glance, smile, and move on. Personally, though it is a hard choice, I prefer the second option.

To top it, I have found that "moving on" comes naturally to me. I do not get emotionally attached with people. Except for 4-5 of them, I rarely talk to any of my school friends; that after having studied together for 12 straight years. I actually feel rather uncomfortable around them, since I have absolutely nothing worthwhile to talk about with them. I have only returned once to my school of 12 years, just to obtain my leaving certificate. I am pretty sure that I may never return to SVNIT.

This is not to say that I will completely cut-off this phase of my life. I will remain in contact with some of the best friends that I have made here. But for all of my friends, my only advice is to remember me as I am right now, and cherish those memories. It is inevitable that I will be a changed man the next time we meet, as all of us will be. The point is to not forget the person you originally befriended. If you do that, it will clear you of unnecessary anguish. If you are the overtly touchy-feely type, well bask in your misery.

So, dear tourist, even though it is beautiful, you will eventually get bored of looking at the Alps. So stop holding on to that memory. Learn to let go, because the real beauty of life lies in its endless, unpredictable possibilities. Embrace this fact. May you all, Live Long And Prosper.

A Lesson in Morality

As a kid, one day I brought back home a 2 rupees coin I found on my way back from school. When I showed it to my mother, she promptly told me, that we should never pick up money lying around the road (in case the person to whom it belongs to comes back looking for it). “So, should I put it back where I found it?”, I asked my mother, and she said,”No, we shall donate it in the temple”.

Years later, while entering inside the examination hall for my end semester exams, I found a Rs.50 note lying on the floor outside the hall in the mechanical department. By instinct, I left it lying there, though there was a temptation to at least put it somewhere it doesn't get under people’s shoes.

After the exam was over, while getting out of the hall, I found the Rs.50 note lying there as it is. I do not know what took over me, but within seconds, the Rs.50 note was in my hand. I stood there looking stupid. Since, I was the last one out of the exam hall, there was no one in the corridor.

Leaving the money lying there didn't seem like a good idea. Three hours was a long enough time, if the owner were aware of this, he should have come looking for it much earlier. To add to that, there were chances that someone else would take it and unlike me, use it for themselves.

I could of course submit it in the department office. But how could I be sure of what the clerk would do with that money? Also, going to office to submit a 50 rupees note for “lost and found” seemed a bit cheesy.

So, my mother’s teaching came to mind. The temple, of course. I put the note in my pocket, and came out of the department. But on reaching the temple, I couldn't get myself to put it in the donation box. How could I be sure that the money would be used for a good purpose by the temple trust? After all, there is no dearth of corruption in India, and even if the temple authorities were not corrupt, I didn't want this money getting spent on buying new clothes for a stone statue.

I didn't give it to a beggar when I reached the bus stop, as I thought that the person, to whom I give this money, though needy, will become complacent and this act will serve as a further inspiration to continue with his/her current profession of begging.

That day, when I went to sleep at night, I was dogged with self-doubt. Had I become so selfish that I couldn't find one single way to use this money, for the welfare of anyone in need? If I had given it to any of the children begging on the roads (even though I knew that they probably were under the clutches of some mafia forcing them to beg), I would have ensured at least 3-4 kids wouldn't sleep on an empty stomach. No doubt I had a troubled sleep that night.

By the next day, when I woke up, I had worked out the best solution to the problem at hand. I would give this money to someone, perhaps a daily labourer working in one of the many constructions going on in the institute. So, I decided that I would slip the money near some construction site after the exam was over.

After the exam, as I came out of the department, I saw a group of labourers cementing bricks. Just then, another thought came to mind. What if the person who ends up with this money turns out an alcoholic or uses this to buy cigarettes and such. No, that would be completely wrong. I shall not be responsible for encouraging a person into wasting money in these habits.

Just then, I saw a group of female labourers at a distance, with small kids and a few babies all around, and I knew, then, where this money belonged. I realised that anyone in the world, including myself could use such stray money in a host of immoral or wasteful ways, but a mother will always look for the well-being of her kids before any personal comfort. As I passed the group, I discreetly put the 50 rupees note in one of the cribs carrying a baby.

I was finally at peace.

Random Musing: I wonder about the state of mind of the people who draft the budget, or deal with the taxpayer's money...Don't they get overwhelmed by the enormity of responsibility bestowed on them by the millions of taxpayers, or do they cackle in secret basking in their fortunes...If even a single person working in the UPA cabinet had a tenth of the conscience that an ordinary man on the street has, the country would have been saved from such agony...

An Ode to a dear friend...

I have had many friends in the two decades of my life, but one friend stands out, more so because this friendship has stood the test of time, of irregular and uncertain communication, and yet, prospered.

Our fathers who were batch mates during their engineering days are the reason that we became friends, but our friendship endured only due to our own efforts and respective awesome personalities. I think the main reasons behind it are our extremely happy childhood memories. My earliest memories of Vyom are from our birthday parties. Those were carefree days, we would reach the other's home earlier with family, still remember playing video game at his home, as I remember it, he had quite a collection of video game cassettes, which I envy to this day. During the party, we would dance our way to the end, and after the party was over, we opened all the presents together.

Awesome fight sequence...

Thanda thanda pani...

Dancing into the night...

The Demi-dude saluting the Dudiest dude...

After all those few happy years, Vyom goes off to Assam, and that is when communication breaks off completely, for years together. The next time we met, our lives had completely changed. Now, all discussions at home were about studies, IIT, AIEEE; but that did not deter us. I do not remember us ever talking about that stuff. When we met, we would talk about everything but studies.

And that is how it has been for a very long time, we meet in intervals of 1-2 years, bond with each other, and our friendship endures. The last time we met, at 12 in the midnight, all we did for the next three hours was watch and exchange movies (From what I remember we saw Shaolin Soccer and Balls of Fury that night), play games, and then, went to sleep at 3 in the morning.

And now, our relationship has evolved as Net Buddies, as we go about terrorising our unassuming friends into submitting before the sheer awesomeness of our camaraderie.

Now, that he has joined Cognizant in Pune, and I am all set to join Linde in Vadodara, it doesn’t seem that the boundary conditions in this case are about to change anytime soon. Though we constantly keep in touch with each other through the internet, it does seem that our constantly irregular communication is the only thing on which our friendship rests even in the foreseeable future.

Note: You can find the Demi-Dude at : http://demi-dudes.blogspot.com/

Alternate fashion sense...

"Really, thats what you think matches with that shirt???" My mother bellowed for the umpteenth time, aghast at my weird and slightly eccentric fashion sense.

Honestly, I was never good with colors. Since childhood, I could barely name the 12 standard colors that came in the average crayons box. In fact, I distinctly remember that during the interview for admission to the first class in my school, though I already knew the multiplication tables till 12, I couldn't tell the interviewing teachers, the color of their saris; and even to this day, I am not sure, what the color "grey" exactly looks like.

Then, of course, there is all that fuss, which is generally thrown at me by the members of the opposite sex, how the "royal blue" is so different from the "navy blue", how, its not orange, its "orangish-yellow"; "How can you not see the difference between "magenta" and "pink" !!! Frankly, I don't care about the difference between magenta and pink, or the innumerable "blues" as long as they do not end up on the traffic signals.

So, this apparent lack of "common sense" exasperates the near and dear ones, friends and family alike, when say, I wear pink shirt with a cream colored or green trousers, to the extent that I became an overnight celebrity for a brief period in the mechanical engineering department. Yes, do you have the audacity to carry yourself in such a combination ???

However, I do not always turn up in such "out of the world" clothing; if, for example, "Odd day" is being celebrated at my college, I deliberately dress up in the most "normal" clothes that I can think of (yes, I have finally gotten the hang of the "normal" by the trial and error method), after all, thats what will make me look "odd" in the crowd of a bunch of weirdly dressed jokers (and when I say weirdly dressed, I am not being dramatic, people get very intense, to the point of tearing their clothes at strategic locations, just to look distinct from the rest) who turn up that day.

You see, unlike other people, when I open my rather significant wardrobe in the morning, I do not blindly follow latest trends in fashion set by low-on-IQ "snobs" who have made a whole industry out of it or worry about tedious color combinations...I set my own trends... I just pick out a shirt and pants whose color and texture "feels right" for the day. So, in a way, I am my own personal fashion designer.

Random Musing : I am contemplating the combination of Pink or red shirt over my yellow pants? What say you ??? Mwahahahahaha !!!

Not a party person...

After spending 3 years at the college, it will come as a surprise to many people that I have attended a total of 4 parties in the last three years, 2 of which were school affairs.

I feel helpless while formulating a valid reason to not attand a party. Not only do I have to make sure that the person concerned does not imagine apparent contempt towards their achievement from me, but also that the reason seems reasonable enough.

Having said that, it is my humble appeal to all my friends that I do not need a party for an excuse to feel happy about your achievement, I already am, and I sincerely hope that all of you succeed in your respective lives. So, please be understanding when I quite unceremoniously or bluntly tell you that I won't attend your job or b'day treat. Nor do I feel the need to throw an exorbitant party, just to make you feel good about my accomplishment. So, if I ever do give a party, it will be a decidedly small affair, most probably in the eternally cheap canteen.

If it is of interest to you, when I was young, I used to celebrate my b'day 3-4 times a year, as a one year wait seemed a bit too long to me. But over the years, I have transitioned into a completely different person. I am uncomfortable in very large gatherings (more than 8-9 people) as it becomes difficult to process all that information at one go. I do not generally dance in large crowds(I do not think of it as dance, some people just keep on jumping at a single spot, while others make wierd gestures with their limbs). So, logically speaking there is not much for me to do at a party.

The following lines may sound as if coming from an obnoxious person and a protectionist economist. I am sure most of my friends will not agree with most of the stuff, as they hold emotional value in much high regard over anything materialistic. But this is a no holds barred narrative, so bear with me. And for the record, I am a supporter of free market economy.

I feel that partying is the most inefficient way of splurging hard-earned money. It does not involve possession of any hard commodity so it does not have any intrinsic physical value. Though I agree, it does fuel demand for the ever-expanding Hospitality industry, I would rather prefer Foreign income in the form of Tourism instead of recirculation of Domestic currency. This may sound protectionist as it invariably supports a decrease in economic activity, and a higher savings rate, these are my real views on the phenomenon of partying.

I am also sceptical (as is my favourite screen character Mr. Sheldon Cooper) of the institution of Gift giving. Not only is it a tedious and wasteful enterprise, it involves careful analysis of the physical and emotional needs of a person better understood by the individual himself. So, I would prefer if instead of spending on a party, you would spend your money on something that you hope to buy for yourself some day.

That being said, do party hard. You have my best wishes!!!

A fond memory...

The world is suddenly a much brighter and happier place...It is amazing how a single event can change your whole perspective towards life...

It has been exactly 2 weeks since I was placed at Linde and the idea has finally started to sink in. After the exorbitant celebrations (which were happily conducted in the pleasurable company of my best friend--that is me) over the past 2 weeks, I have realized that this is perhaps the first time since years that I have truly felt alive.

Linde is one of the very few accomplishments that I am proud of, more so because of the near perfect and flawless way (which is not the case with what I do mostly) in which I went through the entire process. You see I always appreciate perfection in life, though I am far from achieving it, that one day, I was as near to it as I ever got. It was like a dream day for me.

That day will be etched in my memory for a long, long time. As my name was announced, the world literally went blank. Though I had been expecting the job offer after the excellent interview, the actual announcement hit me like a load of bricks. I had a job! As the newly-placed and their crowd of friends went ahead to party, a still shocked me, caught an auto-rickshaw to catch the 7:30 bus. I do not generally like busy streets and heavy traffic, which is why I avoid the rush hour, but as I stepped out of the auto, the whole world seemed to be a happier place, the normally irritating neon lights gleamed as did the people around me, all of whom seemed to have a permanent smile pasted on their lips. The world had suddenly become a much brighter and happier place to live in.

As the hangover finally wears off, I am left with a few fond memories of the day. Maybe one day, when I am an old (still awesome) man, and recollect my life, I will fondly remember my first interview, the borrowed tie from Saurabh, Vishal helping me tie the knot, while all the other friends offered encouraging advice, me nervously sitting on the desk waiting for my interview, and those golden 20 minutes...