Chapter VI : Flying Down South

I write this when Sachin’s just been dismissed having missed a ton of tons (yet again) cleanbowled by Siddle while the spiteful Sushma Swaraj is getting wonderfully back-answered by Kapil Sibal on the Lokpal Bill debate in Lok Sabha. And I’m waiting for the moment when my frozen clumsy fingers will warm up to typing correctly! 

This Christmas indeed was the coldest North India’s celebrated in 5 years. But the cold doesn’t prevent us mortals from keeping our desires and wishes ignited. While Anna fasting in Mumbai for another 3 days would have asked for a wholesome Lokpal to be dropped in his stocking, I want Santa to make time stop.

I have barely 10 days left at home before I fly out of Punjab for my internship down south. Tickets are booked and after much ado we have unanimously opted for taxi to IGI Airport on the chilly evening of the seventh day of 2012. Flying to Bangalore on the early morning of 8^th and then another taxi ride to reach my training center at Mysore about 3 hours from Bangalore by road. 

Talking about Mysore, I have a never-dying inclination towards South India. I have been there of which I remember only a little. Can you blame me? I was in 9^th grade. I even forget everything that happened a week ago, let alone years! My biggest handicap! My brain’s cache houses the details of only the last seven days at most. Beyond that it’s all a blur. It does get you in a fix sometimes when your mates are conjuring up things from past and all you can do is nod along like a trained pet or smile.

What I can recall is that it was a school trip back in 2005 with people whom I hardly knew or liked. Only thing that still stays with me about Mysore is the magnificent summer palace of Tipu Sultan. It’s a shame I didn’t have a camera to capture it in all its glory back then. I had a friend of mine visiting it around Deepawali so I know that it looks even more enchanting with infinite light bulbs adorning it. I also vividly remember how delectable South India food is. I utterly love the coconut chutney and the spicy sambar. The aroma of spices takes me over. I’ve always been a foodie. And to indulge in rich flavoured spicy food is what I can’t resist. Though I’ve heard from seniors whining about the food that we’ll be made available but I wish not to reach there with any notions. I’ll be the judge. Nothing’s better than entertaining those taste buds with something as rich as South Indian food. Can’t wait!

Anyway, I've finally started a novel by John Grisham. The Summons. Feels lucky to have got time out for it. Also my little nephew will come visit us and it’ll be a delight. Besides my sisters visiting us , there’s a new year right around the corner ready to bring fuckloads of luck outshining all the good things of the previous year. Amidst it all there’s countless things that need to be bought and packed. My indolent ways will only yield a garnished set of usual Punjabi cuss words from Dad as a Newyear Gift! While packing my bags, every passing second reminds me of how little time I’m left with and of the mammoth responsibility of collecting all my stuff together. Change is just as cruel as is permanent. For every second disheartens me reminding me of beautiful things I’ll leave behind. My parents and my friends occupying the major chunk of it.

One doorway’s shut. The last 4 days of college have given me more than what 4 years could ever muster up. Our bizarre baseless blabbering, the roaring laughter at the silliest nastiest jokes have all grown just as strong as the bonds among everyone a part of the craziness. The 4 day workshop that we were all stuck to attend turned out to be the best 4 days of college life. From the incessant brow-raising commentary to reading the most intensely carnal twitter pages out loud to trying out every canteen and getting dozens of pictures clicked with silliest looking waiters to thoroughly embarrassing oneself in public (applies to me) - the 4 days have been quite a ride. An indelible one.

Yes, I successfully made myself butt of all jokes for my group. But I volunteered. And they left no stone unturned. I have learnt some important lessons about public speaking too. That you are always at a disadvantage when there’s the prettiest girl of college attending the same workshop and listening closely as you open your gob. Never before did I fumble so foolishly. Never did my words just lose their track completely while finding their way from my mind to tongue. Beauty so powerful!

My birthday treat also happened. We raided KFC and PHD located adjacently. The noise we generated sure earned us some stares but the previous 4 days had inured us of any embarrassment that these mortals shy away from. Memorable time captured for life in pictures. As the treat coincided with the last day at workshop/college so it resulted in moist eyes, awkward hugging and some seriously inane good-luck-for-life parting messages.

In addition to my friends, I’ll also miss the Winters because down south the temperatures don’t plummet to this extent. The chattering of teeth, the difficulty in driving two-wheelers, warming my hands by placing them under my bum, to snuggle up in my mother’s quilt everytime I go to their room which is quite rare given the quality of TV shows they watch. Shows that are so nauseating and logic-defying where every character is so madeup and definitely has a twin battling a pained existence, the child of a lesser god!

I’ll miss gorging on pignuts stuffed in my jacket’s pocket during those long walks with Music on lonely fogged-up streets just to straighten myself out. I’ll miss hearing the Gurbaani early morning from the nearest Gurudwara and with those little birds twittering, all contributing to make mornings marvelous. What I’ll not miss is when taking time out for a hot coffee on terrace that loud Punjabi music embellished with lewd lyrics makes you gnash for spoiling the little time you borrowed from your busy day to center yourself.

I’ll also miss my laptop which will stay put at home.

But out of everything that I leave behind, I’ll miss both my parents the most. They always have been supremely eloquent at conveying how good-for-nothing I am. But I also know that I am the apple of their eyes. I’m going to miss mom experimenting with recipes just to evoke a “Yum” from me. Dad for calling me names and faking being strict when he has to get his work done. I’m gonna miss them locking horns and erupting into an argument when both are laying the same point favoring me. Perhaps they will never know how much I love them.

It’s just 16 weeks, I tell myself. I can do it. Wait is good. As Benjamin Franklin says “He that can have Patience, can have what he will.” Just like these magical 4 years, 16 weeks will fly off just as soon leaving me swamped with better memories and experiences. Never been surer.