I went for a walk in the park today after a couple of years. It was a weird experience. The wind blew hard transferring dust loyally right into my eyes irking up my tear tissues. My face was masked within minutes with dust layers and I was sure many blackheads would later surface as a result.
The park has changed so drastically over the years, its almost scary to see signs of 'No Cycling, No Dogs and No Sports'. We've done all that, and more - without a person to care.
It no longer has the see-saws (that I could never outweigh anyone on) or the jungle-gym (that I was always too short to get onto). Now its all landscaped greens accompanied with manicured bushes and a musical fountain to match. No longer do wildgrass grow or uneven flora exists.
Its changed like a teenage girl freshly gets her brows plucked and her moustache removed. And you don't really know if she's looking better or worse. The innocence so gone, knowing it can never return.
As I walked through, images of a forgotten past flashed through my head and tugged at some unknown strings. A whole jungle of greens and mosquitos at our disposal to play hide-and-seek or to run after each other for no apparent reason till the late hours of the evening. A silent boundary to sit on, facing the road before playing silly games which never bore any fruits not had any conditions of a result. A result - never meaning your life, or your admission into a college.
Just plain, pure, unadultrated fun. The kind you have when you climb a small hill of construction material and come sliding down giggling - and filthy. Achievements of the day measured in athletic performances or the number of hours spent in the sun. Visiting their houses like your own.
And then, the studies hit you - the fears torment you - teenage love dispels you into a million dismal colors of gray, taking away that from you that you never treasured - until much much later.
Walking through the park, my ears holding on to the earplugs playing Bryan Adams, it made me wonder what I had today that I'd be thinking so about tomorrow...

If someone tells you that sitting in McDonalds for over three hours doing nothing but sipping on a small-sized Coke is a crime, tell them they're wrong.
I am not in jail yet, am I?

[1] Walking for over two kilometres just to know that StStephens doesn't give out forms on weekends can be a weight-reducing experience. Highly recommended by dieticians - especially since the sheer disappointment kills your appetite.

[2] There will always be a queue with fifty people fighting over the ICR forms, and another, hidden cleverly behind the treasure hunt, with the attendent killing mosquitos.

[3] Going to college to fill application forms can be an extremely useful excuse for going on those long dates. You can start off at seven in the morn figuring out if you're eligible for any of the courses in any of the colleges (which apparently, you won't be), proceed to juggling with course and college codes (imagine course 76 in college 34), gulp down a couple of thousand diet cokes - and at the end of it all return home informing forlorn parents, that you'd have to return just again the next day.

[4] Heels can be very helpful in such situations. Although walking miles from college-to-college can be a problem but you can always kick the guy in front of you to get that solid advantage.

[5] And finally, college applications are totally fun when you know that the only reason you want to get in, is not to stay in but to be out as often as you like.

Posting after a long time, partially because I had to go away for a vacation to Malaysia and Singapore, but mostly because I've made some alterations in life which needed some heed - of which I can mention none here, but can easily hint on.
Been trying to get back to reading, keeping myself away from the computer. Life doesn't demand it, I do. Breaking myself away from the monotony is the only way I can keep my creativity sane. Else, it gets too philosophical and I reach levels of vague abstractions.
While in Penang, I realized the irony of the whole situation. An 87.5 was to suicide for, something I had feared for so long. And Stephens finally hit on with its B.A. Pass cutoff - an 87. To faint for...
Interviews are at 9:00 a.m. on the 30th of this month. If I make it - I slip over a banana peel and don't fall. If I don't - I'll opt for one of the many alternatives. Not that education is better in one compared to the other. Its all the same orthodox nuinsance.
By the way, Singapore was a dream. Next life, I'm going to ask the stork to drop me there. Possibly with Rohit's liberal flattering boosting me high nowadays, I'd end up there on my way down...

I am now a Hindu student. Still hopefully, I won't be for long. This morning was my interview at St. Stephens. Of course, I had been anticipating vigorous grilling from what I had heard. The only college in the entire Delhi University to take an interview to sort out applicants, and they did it well. So well indeed, that the topper of our school (with a 95 something aggregate) didn't make it.
Firstly, I must recommend all those who're thinking of applying to Stephens to get your brains checked. Are you insane? The most prestigious institute in Delhi would take you? Well they might, but don't count your chicks before they've hatched.
I know, I am not. Now, I enter the interview room and there sits Professor Wilson (the Principal) in all his renowned glory surrounded by four other professors of the college. I had no preparation for this. For me, it would be a general chat of the sad item numbers onscreen or the quality of web design. Personally, thats all my knowledge of current affairs is limited to. Even narrower perhaps.
The man himself wanted to know why I wanted to take a B.A. degree when I had such achievements (haha) in the field of computers. Then he wanted to know why I didn't take a course in computers. Why College, he asked. I couldn't shrug it away, so I answered in my numbed words.
Next, he handed me over to the Economics professor. Grilling for five questions - everything about economics I would ever remember from my two years of standing first in class. Messed up in the mid somewhere, but recovered gracefully.
Now, the Hindi professor wanted to ask me 'few things'. First, he would require me to speak in hindi (uhh.. kya...?), and next he wanted me to answer these questions in rapid succession -

- What is the major problem between India and Pakistan?
- What really is the issue with Kashmir?
- How can the issue in Kashmir be dealt with?
- If I tell you to solve the issue in Kashmir, how would you do so?
- Should Kashmir be handed over to Pakistan, India or be made independent?
- You say, it should be independent... now what if Punjab or Tamil Nadu want to be independent?
- No, but of course, Punjab can ask for independence, can't it? What should be done then?

Now, I must admit - I know 'nothing' about G.K. Especially Kashmir. Fine, there is terrorism, but heck, thats all I know! I know, shame on me.. Wham Bam. But I answered all of them - and answered them fine. The main thing was I didn't stutter or think - just let it all blurt out at once.

I pity those who came before me or would come after me. But most of all, I pity myself for all the ignorance of seventeen years of news channels. I am only thankful he didn't ask me about Iraq...