Speckles of PWC on Facebook

Almost two decades ago when Patna Women's College celebrated its golden jubilee, I grabbed the opportunity to pen down a memoir of my stay in the hallowed precincts of my alma mater. The write-up along with numerous others, that spoke of the veritable place the college had earned in imparting education to women, found its way into ' Souvenir' the college magazine. Very soon I made my adieus to the glorious portal of this magnificent edifice. Little did I realise, that the advent of the internet which had then just begun in our country, would one day rekindle a few connections that seemed to be getting obliterated at that point of time, and would perhaps give me an opportunity to pour down my retrospection of some of the most splendid moments of my life.

As a member of the group PWC'91, I catch but just a glimpse of this wonderful piece of architecture on my page and reminiscence all that went on to edify an exuberant teenager into an entity that today manoeuvres the labyrinth of the huge, wide world with grit.

Visuals roll out in mind's eye as I go down memory lane. Anuradha Sinha (Sahay) and Anuradha Bajpai (Upadhya) walk into the Economics class bleary eyed, in flip flops, clutching their notebooks. Being boarders and living just a floor above the classrooms, they enjoy the privilege of taking power naps to endure a fifty minute session ahead. Sharing the seat with them is Bashishtha Banerjee (Bhatacharjee), turned almost a zombie, taking down each word of what Mrs Kumudini Sinha rattles out on the ' Marxian Theory '.Class over and our dear Bash is back to her cheery self spreading her infectious laughter all around.

A year on as we gather in room no 10 for a poetry session in English Literature, the gloom brought in by Alfred Lord Tennyson's verses is thankfully broken by Aradhadha (Pradhan) Prasad's pop-ups. Our fair lady can rightly enliven humdrum sessions with her own artistic sensibilities. Sharing the stage with Aradhana is Tanuja Shankar whose humorous and witty repertoire succeed in flipping composures into smiles, grins and laughter.

Outside the classroom, you are often greeted by Neeti Sahay's graceful smile. Priya (Jaipuriar)Roopshree's cool and sober looks affirm a budding psychologist. Aradhana Lal (Verma) strikes you with her beauty and poise, and how can you miss out Udita Sharan's magnetic charm or Jaya Singh's grace and dignity and the captivating chat sessions that one enjoys with her. The ever bubbly and voluble Rita Bose (Sinha) is loved by one and all. The highlights of the batch are Anvita Sharma (Singh) and Vijaya Singh with their bold, vivacious selves; the typically outgoing types.

Time runs its course and the girls soon graduate out of college carrying dreams of a brighter tomorrow and of course, the secret desire of meeting their own Prince Charming. The kaleidoscope of images that appear in a series of flashback, soon disappear. The present has taken over where these young girls have transformed into mature women. Relationship status has changed for all. There are several add ons. Priorities have changed, and each one has moved on with her life. Yet each woman has brightened up her respective domain with her virtues and radiance.

Today I sit in my cosy home that resonates with the voice of my teenage son and the squeals and laughter of my babydoll. As I share this warmth, I relive the peals of unsuppresable laughter that brought to life the otherwise cold room numbers 18, 10, 8 to name a few, at PWC, when we laughed loudly enough to be warned every now and then about the din that was consequently created.

I smile wistfully and realise that I shall have to be reborn to be a party to the laughter that even today fills up the cafeteria, common room and corridors of PWC, sans my own among them.

We have now moved to various places across the globe. It has probably been decades since we last interacted, but social networking in the virtual world has reunited us all. As we cruise the internet, the joys of chatting online with one another or clicking on to view pictures of the new families, is inexplicable. As the years have gone by, we've grown older, wiser, and a lot has changed....What remains unchanged is the spirit of friendship, the only factor to have grown younger or perhaps vibrant amidst the change. Eighteen years on, as I get to send birthday wishes to someone I hadn't forgotten altogether, yet hadn't ever hoped to meet, how can I stop myself from thanking Facebook for this delightful reunion.... We can march on, not just with memories but connectivity, as well !

Stupid Cupid

I do not remember been ever given a piece of jewellery by my husband on Valentine’s Day. He has perhaps not done the most preferred things that a man would usually do on this day. Probably, it must have been something unspectacular years ago, but nothing so razzle-dazzle that I can  recall. Yes, I have often texted amorous messages and given to him a 'few' romantic cards, and a text message or a card in return is what makes my day. However, what brings me to write this piece is my response to the glow that surrounds the market place with Valentine’s Day almost there. The day is so starkly marked with the exchange of valuable gifts, amazing dinners out and romantic breaks enjoyed by couples at exotic resorts. The hefty price one has to pay to express such a compassionate and poignant emotion, truly amazes me.

Well, I’m one of those who believe that neither does love needs a specific day to be expressed, nor does this fundamental emotion requires the almighty dollar to be at its aid. Blessed are those who can recognize the depth of the endearment in all its ingenuity, unpolished and unmixed form.  An effortless,  matter-of -course and spontaneous emotion that can  be expressed through mere words and deeds seeks validation in commercial terms? Well, I find it difficult to stomach that, or has the language of love undergone a transformation?

When I found my significant other, I realised I was growing each day in a relationship  that needed constant expression. I learnt that 14th February was yet another day to express one’s fondest emotions and to spend time with each other to celebrate one’s togetherness. Exchanging cards on this day has always seemed quite romantic to me. Going back to my younger days, I remember admiring love cards in card galleries and floating into fantasy land pondering over those lovey-dovey, syrupy messages. Nonetheless, today as I see hotels and restaurants announce attractive deals and exciting packages to woo potential Valentines, I find myself at odds with the commercialisation that surrounds the spirit of love. Would a bling ever bring to one the warmth that comes with chatting endlessly with each other over a cup of coffee? Think of it!

Having been fervidly in love all these years, the insight to discern emotions from riches grows sharper with every passing year. Without sounding cynical at all and with due regards to all out there whose studs or bracelets bear the hallmark of Valentines Day, I find myself a misfit in the ring that entwines ‘cupid and coins’. I often wonder if it is my years of togetherness with my mate that makes me so impassive to merchantry and business that surrounds Valentine’s Day in modern times. On analysis, however, I realize that it is the pansophy that comes with age and, that makes for a clearer discernment. Now I can specifically say that  while money can never be a yardstick for love that grows with time, yet it certainly allows one the plenitude and profusion that helps one celebrate life. And if you love life, you  nurture it with love alone.

However, today, in the sixteenth year of a wonderful wedlock, I do look forward to what Valentine’s Day has in store for me. A bouquet of red roses, a card, a text message or a delightful e-card with a personalized message, anything that substantiates his desire to be by my side. Can this ever be replaced with a pair of impersonal diamond studs or a glittering bracelet?

Ruminations 15th March

Bread, utterly simple and ubiquitous, dipped in a batter of eggs, seasoned with salt and pepper and fried  to satisfy the most ordinary tastebuds, makes for a delectable snack.
How similar is life....simplicity and modesty dipped in humour, seasoned with good temper and conditioned to love almost anything that lives. Doesn't that make for a wonderful persona ?

Of Minds And Motifs

My boy, all of twelve years, came back from a birthday party and showed me his return gift with a befitting delight. I exhibited an equally fervid inquisitiveness to witness what my little one undid so impatiently. “Wow, Mom, it’s a chain with a lovely pendant. Shall I wear it right away?” Wide eyed, I glanced at the thing that gleamed, as it swung on suspension between his thumb and index finger. My own tastes and preferences, never allowed me to acknowledge the need for boys, as young as twelve, to be accessorized with anything that could pass off for jewellery. However, I winked at what lay before me, for it was a gift given out so fondly by the birthday boy himself. As my boy expressed the desire of sporting the chain, I intuitively took it from him and examined the pendant before giving my consent. My lad, still in his pre teens waited for my response, resentfully, however. A steel chain with a pendant that displayed a skull and cross bones nestled in the cup of my palm. I looked at the piece of adornment with horror and distaste and cringed at the thought of my bundle of joy wearing something that symbolized not life or anything analogous with it, but its distinct opposite. I succeeded in dissuading him from wearing it, but because it was a memento from a friend given on a day that he celebrated life, I allowed him to keep it in his treasure chest.

I knew exceedingly well that the image warned of danger, and wherever one saw it, one would steer clear of the area or the object that bore the hallmark. Yet, to me, it meant something greater than danger, it meant ‘death’. The symbol displayed on bottles of poison or electric boxes containing high voltage does certainly mean death of life.

Though I do not restrict myself with superstitions, dogmas and taboos, yet I am immensely taken in by the slightest images and objects that appear to be suggestive of larger details and ideas. While flowers are emblematic of happiness and red roses of love and passion, children symbolize hope and the rising sun stands for life, growth and prosperity. Similarly, owls and bats being nocturnal, typify sinister images and skulls and cross bones become equally insalubrious. This is most rightly why I never agree to possess an item of personal use that bears the mark of skull and bones. Much to his chagrin, my little boy, has discovered my disregard for anything and everything that bears this image of danger and death. To him and to all others, the figure perhaps stands for nothing more than, ‘Danger! Keep off '. Seeing it on an outfit will probably distract them to think that getting anywhere closer to the user would perhaps be disastrous. That is it. They would not comprehend any more. I guess I’m the oddball !!

Even though, we change and outgrow certain beliefs and notions, I have somehow felt incapacitated in abhorring morbid images and those that suggest negativity in any form, especially on items of clothing and personal use. Recently on a shopping trip, I agreed upon buying my son a pair of ash grey long shorts with black prints all over. I was happy to see him drool over something that looked ‘cool’. At the store, I did not quite notice the prints, but a closer look at home revealed the same skull and cross bones imprinted all over the garment. Unsettling, as it was for me, this time I prepared myself to look over, as the characters did not seem particularly striking. Besides, my boy would, in no way agree to return or change his choicest pick. I realised I had to interpret the figures differently from what theywere. As I tried doing so, after the distasteful discovery, they appeared a pattern that made little sense, but to my relief succeeded in giving up their morbidity for something abstract.

The week later as I shopped for tops, I fell in love with a black one that seemed to be tailor made for me. I showed it to my husband, my companion on the trip, with utmost glee. He liked it as much. As I tried the garment that fitted me to a T, I cast an enthused glance at the sole motif that embellished the front of the dress. I looked into the mirror in the trial room, but to my shock and dismay, noticed the same skull and cross bones that glared at me, as I adjusted the top, to have a better view of the motif. This time the character appeared all the more devilish as it lay encrusted in lustrous white stones on a black surface. I hastily changed back into my own T-shirt and wondered if at all I could pick up the piece that required me to display an image of death.

Meanwhile, I held on to my selection as I looked for other pieces in the store, but nothing whatsoever could convince me to acquire something that bore an image which seemed incongruous with the beauty and harmony that life meant to me. The smooth texture of the fabric, the cut and drape, ensnared me enough to consider the clothing a valuable addition to my wardrobe, but the motif succeeded in bringing about my disparagement for the same.

I decided against taking it, ultimately announcing my decision to my husband, about the item that had instantly elicited a ‘go for it’ from both of us the moment we had seen it. The reason clearly amused my husband in an odd, quaint way who did not wish to interfere with my decision.

I left the beautiful black garment on the billing counter, and as we left the store with our bag full of other purchases, I turned around to look at the black top for one last time. A young woman with a baby clinging to her bosom picked up the piece and looked at it approvingly. I’m sure she valued life as much as I did, and loved the little life that clung to her, in the same measure that I loved my boy. As she got the piece billed and left the store within minutes, I wondered what differentiated my perception from hers. Probably it all lay in one's mind, for what seemed rightly repugnant and ominous to me perhaps appeared promising and positive to her. Probably it amused her to think of the fact that she would effervesce a 'drop dead gorgeous' look in the outfit. Funnily enough, with the hostile adornment she could also ward off unwanted attention !

I am convinced that an image casts an impression in the mind, and vision and discernment travel from the eyes to the minds that read the concept.