The Sonance Behind My Silence

                  'Chillar Party' was being aired on TV the other day, and unlike other Bollywood kiddie flicks that turn out to be damp squibs, this one reached out to me. I think, more than the "save the neighbourhood dog" storyline that the film uses, it was the depiction of the childhood of every Mumbai kid that appealed to me the most. It made me feel even better about my own childhood.                   I've had a fantastic childhood. I didn't think much of it then, but now, after hitting 20, I've realised that the best part of my childhood was, that it was ordinary, possibly the same childhood as that of every boy in this city. Of course, I also spent my years as a toddler in Delhi, and almost all of my Summer vacations in Puna, but I'd like to associate my childhood only with Suburban Mumbai, it cannot get any more run-of-the-mill than this.                   I've had 2 wonderful parents, who've taught me everything a boy needs to

             Mine’s a generation when people are unnecessarily obsessed with working-out. Not "exercising" mind you, "working-out". It doesn't matter even if you hog on sugar-frosted cupcakes, or road-side chaats after a session of heavy gym-ing, but you still need to come out of the gym with sweat stains all over your T-shirt, with your napkin completely soaked with even more sweat.                  I don’t know why, but I’ve never found gyms useful. In fact, any sort of exercise that people say is good for you, doesn't affect my body in any way. I stay the same skinny, unhealthy-looking-but-unbelievably-strong “boy”, no matter how much I pay heed to these suggestions. I’ve always preferred swimming. Swimming suits me, and I’m best suited for swimming. My abs come into shape even after a short session of swimming, and I feel rejuvenated with the energy of a five-year old. Being a swimmer for almost 12 years now, I hit the water like a fish. It is my

                                    Junior Year. I’d gone to Poona with no expectations, unlike sophomore year when I was more than sure about the year being awesome, which obviously, did not happen.                                    But, barely 2-3 weeks into the first month of the year, and I had already resumed my seat in the ‘Why-the-hell-am-I-studying-in-Poona’ convention. A terrible first day, followed by a hectic schedule that wouldn't allow me to make for home, and being smothered by assignments, horrible sheets, seminars and projects just came as the icing on the cake (read: ‘dungcake’). But what happened this morning totally became the cherry on the icing!                                   After spending 5 continuous hours with the not-so-amusing AutoCAD, I woke up at 6 AM, still irked from the 3 hour sleep I’d somehow managed to get. After spending another hour in front of the vile software, I headed for breakfast with Siddharth, and what followed, well, let’s just

The Bandra-Worli Sea Link - Pride of Modern Mumbai                        People who know me know my love for Mumbai. The "city of seven islands" is my home, and for reasons too perplexing to give, my muse as well. Sometimes I even consider the city as my paramour, whereas, it may actually be the other way round. I love the whole enchilada of the metropolis, although I must admit, I absolutely cosset the areas of Colaba, Thane, Mulund, Powai, Bandra and Worli a little above the other burbs. I behave like a tourist when I visit these areas, clicking pictures when I have my camera at hand. However, I must admit, I wouldn't have realised my love for this stunning megalopolis had I not spent four years away from it in a town not even close to being as awesome as Mumbai.                        Nevertheless, I'm more than happy that I've finally become cognizant of my affection towards MY city, my motherland, all the homesickness notwithstanding. No matter how mu

                        Yesterday I came a little early to college. The ground was smelling sweet, thanks to the untimely April rain that had drowned the city the previous night. That's when I laid eyes upon something that was both pleasing, yet inexplicably amusing to watch.                         The bitch (No pun intended here, I seriously mean 'female dog') who hung out at the Nescafe stall in college stepped out of the Indi-Prod building alongwith a bunch of puppies, barely over a week old. It was fun to watch the tiny tots circumambulate   their mother as if she was their entire world. They'd go where she'd go, turn where she'd turn, and sit where she'd sit, cozying up on her loving bosom.                         That's when I noticed the last puppy, possibly the youngest and definitely the cutest of them all. It stood out because it wasn't following her, or its siblings. It went where it wanted to go, barked at random spooky-looking tree

                     The latter part of 2010 was really hard on me. As aforesaid in ‘Beginnings’ (dated 11/11/2010), I was forced to stay alone, in a town I hated, and depression and frustration were the only two people who visited me after college. Life was pathetic, and not a single day passed when I did not regret my decision of coming to Poona.                     An innocent suggestion by my mother planted an idea in my mind – if I had to be lonely anyway, why not live alone in a “happening” area at least? I had a bike, and honestly, the weekends in Bibwewadi were as happening as a silent movie for a four year old. I decided to get a single room for me in a supposedly “amazing” area called Prabhat Road.                      The semester ended on a bad note, with me coming back to my flat in Bibwewadi after writing a hopeless paper, and spending the rest of the evening packing bags while my batchmates were busy partying, celebrating the end of a semester.