The beginning

We stepped out of the Corbett Link Express. It was a single platform station. I loved it. There is something fascinating about single platform stations. Probably, it is the mystery involved. You don’t know what to expect.

This was Ramnagar station and the day was yet to break. It was cold like hell and the whole place was misty – smoke coming out of our mouths as we spoke to each other. A perfect situation to have a hot cup of tea.

But the autowallah was already there with a placard in his hand and within five minutes we were off for our resort, shielding ourselves from the chilly breeze that hit us through the open gates of the auto.

At the resort, we were a given clean and cozy room. As we explored, I stepped into the verandah and the sight left me awe struck. Below the verandah was a small stretch of fields, beyond the fields, a gurgling river, beyond the river were the mountains, covered with dense forests and from between the mountains, the sun had begun to send signals – “I am about to start my journey for the day.”

The sky had a streak of magenta and the clouds above were a bluish grey. It seemed too beautiful to be true. We saw the sun rise through the mountains and as it did so, the reddishness dissolved, giving way to the brightness of a brand new day.

Yes, this was the beginning – not just of a brand new day – but that of 3 unforgettable days, when we would pamper ourselves with an overdose of nature’s beauty, when we would feast our eyes on awe inspiring mountains, rivers – at times calm and deep, and at times, bubbly and mischievous and forests – dense, deep and mysterious.

Selected Snaps from my trip

Selected snaps from my trip

Time stops at Moradabad

I stood on Platform No. 2 of Moradabad railway station, waiting for my train to Varanasi. The station provided a perfect picture of a typical Indian railway station. The crowd, the vendors, the hawkers, the noise, the filth, the confusion, the chaos.

I have a strange fascination for railway stations even at this age. The railway system is a huge leveller. From the well to do, who travel in 1st class to the poor, who travel in the crowds of the unreserved coaches, at the end of the day they reach the same destination at the same time and when they reach their destination they have the same thing on their minds - "I have reached."

Getting back to where I was, i.e. on Platform No. 2. In front of me was the station building and a troop of 10-12 monkeys were playing on its roofs. There were quite a few monkey - kids among them. I was observing them with a lot of interest. The younger ones, full of energy, were clinging on electric wires and chasing each other. The older ones, their enthusiasm, much reduced by their agea, sat watching over their kids and cleaning each other's coats. At times a little monkey would suddenly run to its mother and cling on to her. Probably he had had a fight with his cousins.

The Laws of nature are universal and this was a clear manifestation. No matter how much we complicate our lives in this modern world, certain things remain so simple yet so beautiful.

Behind me, on Platform No. 3, stood another train. It seemed to be a local passenger train and was crowded to capacity. I hardly took any interest in it. Sometime later, I walked down the platform to buy a bottle of water. As I did so, I came across a coach with the particulars of the source and destination of the train mentioned on it. It read - "Delhi - Shamli - Delhi - ..... " The next moment I was more than interested in that overcrowded train.

'Time Stops at Shamli' is one of my favourite Ruskin Bond stories, in which, out of sheer curiosity, the narrator steps out of his train at Shamli station. The story goes on to describe Shamli and the experiences of the narrator there.

For once I wanted to step into that train, to go to Shamli and have a look at the station and the place. Is it really a station with one platform, one fruit seller, one little girl selling ribbons, one tonga and one hotel? I have my own picture of what Shamli must look like and it would feel nice to have a real look at it. In all probabilities it would be completely different, but how wonderful it would be if it really turned out to be what I had imagined. Probably, the little girl has now grown up.

Gyaan ki baat

Today I was asked by someone to answer this question in abt 100-150 words.

"What is your version of education? How can we move towards a knowledge society?"

Now writing unecessary gyaan is something I don't really enjoy. But still, its an opportunity to write some real senseless yet pseude stuff. So this is what i wrote :


Intrinsically, education is built up of two words – knowledge and virtue. Without either of them, education is incomplete.

Quite often, education is misunderstood as a single dimensional variable, supported by academic and professional qualifications. However, education is a much wider term, which aims to mould the thought process of an individual, imbibe in him a set of societal and cultural values and provide him with such academic knowledge, which enables him to contribute towards the development of oneself as well as the society at large.

Moving towards a knowledge society does not mean more text book education. To achieve the goal of successfully creating a knowledge society, we need to broaden the horizon of our thinking and be prepared to absorb whatever we come across in our daily life and learn from them. Apart from this, we should also be prepared to share our knowledge base selflessly with others. A knowledge society can be built if we acknowledge the fact that we remain students all our lives and that each day brings with it a brand new set of goodies, ready for us to absorb and apply.

LOLZ

Random

Saw a beautiful dream last night …

We were going somewhere in a train and I asked her if she had ever imagined that we would be traveling this way some day? She said never, and allowed me to rest my head on her shoulder.

At that point of time, I felt a strange kind of satisfaction. As if, the storm that has been blowing inside me for quite sometime has calmed down. As if, I have found what I have been searching for.

But alas, the storm continues to blow and blow hard. I wonder if it will ever stop. The fear that it won’t makes me want to just give up everything.

But then there is something called “hope” – probably the most powerful word in the English dictionary. The word that gives me the energy to brave this storm inside me. The word that keeps the candle burning.

We come across times when nothing seems to be going right. The last one year has been that kind of a year for me. Though I have had a good academic year (which is a huge relief), in many other respects it has not been all that great and I must admit that mentally and emotionally, I am undergoing a lot of stress.

But just to cheer myself up, I’ll look at all the positives of the year:

i. Price Waterhouse: The experience of working at an MNC, the very fact that a name like PWC has been attached to me has added a new dimension to my life, to my career. I will not say that my experience at PWC has been all that great, but still, it does feel good when someone asks me what I am doing and I reply “I am working at Price Waterhouse.” I have found some good friends and I also share a very good rapport with my peers and seniors.

ii. Trip to Punjab: A two week audit trip to Ludhiana was a very enjoyable experience. The work pressure was not too high and it was a welcome break from Calcutta. The best part was an 18 km bicycle ride on a Sunday afternoon, exploring rural Punjab. It was an awesome experience. A day trip to Amritsar was also very enjoyable.
[http://new.photos.yahoo.com/kushal_mast/album/576460762324861960]

iii. Self Discovery: The last one year has been a year of self discovery. I have realized that I am capable of doing big things in life. In this one year, I have had to take up the responsibility of managing finances and at the end I think I have done quite well. I have made some mistakes, but then it has been a huge learning experience. I hope that by the next year, I shall learn the art of making money speak.

iv. Proposed trip to Jim Corbett: Health permitting, I have trip queued up to the Jim Corbett National park next week. Badly hoping that this trip falls in place.

v. Acads: Will not speak much about it, but had it not been a good academic year, I would have fallen prey to depression.

vi. Friends: I also realized that I have a couple of friends who really care for me. Their true friendship has also been a high of the year

That’s it then … feeling much better … lolz

Memories

I have always maintained that a boys' school bus is one of the most interesting places in the world.

A story of 13 years ago ... I was in class 3 that time. In the morning, on our way to school, we used to go over the Durgapur Bridge. Just beside the bridge, a group of young men (usually 5-7 of them) used to practise karate. For some weird reason, as we used to cross this group of young men, the whole bus would shout the word, "PANDU", and those men used to stare at us with surprise. Soon they began to expect it. Some would smile and some would look irritated. The pedestrians on the bridge were usually caught unawares and they must have wondered what caused the sudden uproar.

If on any of the days, those men were not there, we used to get pretty disappointed. The madness must have carried on for a few months, until one day, we found those men waiting for us at the end of the bridge. They stopped the bus and requested kakoo (meaning uncle ... we called the driver and his assistant "kakoo") to persuade us not to shout, because we disturbed their practise. Kakoo assured them that this madness would not be repeated and then he turned to us and said with a smile that we must have heard what those men had said.

Being pretty decent kids, we stopped the shouting business from the very next day. I must admit that I was quite disappointed. Passing over Durgapur Bridge is still a daily affair and I would be exaggerating if i said that every time I cross it, I remember this little tale. But definitely, at times the memories do flash and there is an instant smile on my face.

It remains a universal truth that life is made up of millions of small moments of happiness, which we usually fail to take note of, but then they do come back and help us muster a smile, even while we are not in the best of our moods. I am being reminded of these lines by Wordsworth :

"When oft upon my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood
They flash upon my inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude.
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils."

Note: Nowadays I cross that bridge in PWC bus and I wonder how it would feel if those men get back to practising karate and all the employees in the PWC bus shout "P A N D U"