Notes from dont ask me where

Is a holiday about doing new things in new places or doing old things in new places? Like getting lost on a rusty TVS in new lanes. Or reading a book (on the kindle! on the kindle!) sprawled on a new window sill. Pigging out in a new restaurant. Snoozing the alarm 25 times on a new bed. Or does it have to be completely different from your routine to feel like one?

Wow, she thought, never seen a lizard with such interesting patterns on its back. As she looked closely, she realized it wasnt a lizard, but a frog! Climbing up a wall! Actually climbing, not randomly jumping. She didnt know frogs could do that. No one seems to have told this frog it couldnt, she thought. And then looked around to see frogs all over the bathroom wall. Behind the heater, on the shower, everywhere. She would have killed for the attached bathroom she rejected yesterday, too taken in by the spiral wooden staircase that led to a room in the loft to bother about a bathroom. Well, she had what she paid for. She asked the frogs to please stay up the wall while she rushed through the quickest bath in the world. Fortunately they were domesticated enough to understand.

The world cant seem to make up its mind about whether i look like a tamilian or not. All my life i've grown up with the image of TAMILIAN stamped in large friendly letters on my forehead. Some people seem to be able to see that, i get random strangers coming and talking to me in Tamil. Some people dont, this one guy asked me in broken english "Which is country" and wouldnt believe me when i said Tamilnadu. Not even after i spoke to him in Tamil. Apparently i look French.

One of the books i read was the Phantom Toolbooth. The dude one day suddenly remembered he had it and jumped up and down insisting that i read the first chapter and for some reason only the first chapter then and there. I didnt, but i did start on it later. What a book, whataay book! I want to tear lines off it and paste them all over the place so i can see and not forget. Its a children's book thats filled with "wisdom", delivered in such a way that it (mostly) doesnt feel like you are being lectured. Like, Milo, our hero is lost and this guy Alec tells him - Being lost is never a matter of not knowing where you are, its a matter of not knowing where you aren't. When i finally "got" that sentence, i wanted to jump up and down, for now i know why i feel so lost - i dont know where i want to go!

Another thing from the book that has firmly lodged in my mind. The king has ordered pastries from the half bakery. Milo wonders what the half bakery is. Someone explains it to him - the half bakery is where half baked ideas come from! They are very tasty, but they dont always agree with you. When i read this, i was bang in the middle of one of my half baked ideas and i wanted to laugh out loud in the bus. All my ideas from now on are going to be poked with a knife or a knitting needle to see if they are well done. I'm not saying i wont have half baked ideas, but at the very least i'll know what i'm getting into.

There is this bird making knocking sounds. At night. And another that makes whistling sounds in the morning. Because living in the middle of nowhere isnt spooky enough.

To Kerala and back

(This post has been lying around for weeks, waiting for an introduction. Feeling too lazy, so kindly consider the post introduced.)

Kerala!!! Yes! I went on a vacation. A totally unnecessary, unjustifiable trip to coconut country! Or as my friend has named it, cheta land. Home to my true love, banana chips. Where a house doesn't become home until it is pained orange. Or green. Or purple. Preferably all of the above. And where buses present a strange paradox. You see one thundering down the road in defiance of all rules and boundaries and also some laws of physics, and you will, not a little fearfully, move out of its way muttering size does matter. How the driver of the monstrosity gets it to snake through traffic almost making you believe you were watching a long haired youth showing off his shiny yellow bike, i'll never know. (Disclaimer: The last two may be specific to Kozhikode, my host city.) On the plus side, the city has a domestic airport that puts all other airports i've seen, including mumbai international airport to utter shame. (Not that i've seen that many. This was the second flight of my life. The first one was also to kerala. What is it with me and that place? Wonder if I was a coconut tree in my last janam. Or maybe, i was God) I got to stay in an unbelievably beautiful campus. "i voluntarily woke up at 6 a.m on a vacation to walk around" beautiful.
I got to act as the guide. Or the navigator. Or whatever it is you call the person who asks people on the road for directions. Not that i would have done it voluntarily, but however fraud a tamilian i may be, i was still the best they had to connect with the locals.
We went to a waterfall and a beach! I can still hear the buffalo in me moo in content. We drove around 200 kms (okay, okay, he drove, but we all made sure he didnt fall asleep) to get to the fall. It had the perfect amount of water, enough for you to get close to the water and not get washed away. This guard with very a strange gender bias wouldn't let me get close to the water while all boys were allowed. We carried out an argument for a while, me whining in Tamil and him shooing me off in Malayalam. Finally, i gave up and sat down on some rocks. And re-learnt one of life's great lessons. It only stops those who let it. Every person who went passed him was told not to go on, but the only one who listened and stayed back was me. So, when he wasnt looking, i leaped ahead and gave him an apologetic grin. Which he returned!
On the way back, car sickness struck as usual and so i sat in the front seat. I'd taken some medicine, the thing worked like a charm. It knocked me off so bad that i had to be shaken awake when we reached campus.
A wonderful, if somewhat short vacation that left me thoroughly campus sick and grateful that ex-colleagues could continue to be friends across time and space.

This day, last year

This day last year, my partner in shame (my thesis partner, just to be clear) and I were ordered by the Master to put an appearance in Delhi. He did this often. Since we served absolutely no purpose other than that of coolies carrying laptops and folders and cost a lot, i still haven't figured out why he did so. I also haven't figured out whether to look upon these trips as a punishment or as an opportunity to spread my wings and fly. Err... walk around the capital.

The first time we went, we were free of cooliegiri by about 4 and spent the rest of the day playing tourists. A couple of classmates who had spent the summer in the city started us off. Relying solely on public transport, we managed to cover an impressive list of places - Qutub Minar, Lotus Temple, India Gate and the mirage of Rashtrapati Bhawan. That India Gate and Rashtrapari bhawan lay on opposite sides of some road had been a part of our astute observations during the morning travel. We were Glad to observe that this was true even after the sun had set. Having done pretty much everything that can be done at a Gate and having lots of time to kill before Shramshaki Express made an appearance, we decided to pay the Rashtrapati a visit. We started to walk towards his house. We walked. And walked. And walked. Came across many crossings, but no Bhawan. At every crossing we were sure the next one was IT. We even attempted to telepathically tempt the owner, promising him a demo of our "this is the way they did it in the US 20 years ago" software. No use. The Bhawan simply wouldn't arrive. Finally, suspicious that we had walked into another city altogether, we gave up. Aah well, his loss. I don't think he can ever completely recover from having missed the demo, but for his sake i hope he has moved on.

Then there was the time i went alone and haunted Connaught place and more specifically Saravana Bhawan. That place brings out the South Indian in me like nothing else! And the fact that a hopelessly direction impaired person like me can find my way from Connaught place to the Railway Station makes it to the top ten achievements in my life.

Then there was the time we had go leaving behind two crippled cricket teams (he was the all rounder of his, i the non performing captain of mine). We imagined all sorts of disasters. Reality of course, disagreed. His team's match got cancelled and mine recorded its best performance ever.

Which brings us to the visit that inspired this post. We knew it would be our last (And it was, unless you count ghar basaofying on the New Delhi Railway platform for 6 hours waiting for a train as a visit). And we wanted to conquer that last remaining spot - the Red Fort. I also wanted to have parathas at the Paratha Gully i had heard so much about. I discovered while trying to locate the place, that i was in Chandni Chowk! Like in the movies!! Only, the place looked nothing like what Karan Johar had led me to believe. The parathas also disappointed. Frankly, I've had better at apna Chaitanya in Pune. On our way back i remembered that it was the partners birthday the next day and he would miss the customary midnight celebrations, since we would be in the train. So i bought some pastries that we could celebrate with at midnight. Of course, i couldn't resist stuffing myself with a few sweets while i was being such a sweet girl. After the light and sound show at the Red Fort (which is amazing!) we paid our respects at Saravana Bhawan. He didn't particularly want to, but i wouldn't hear of it! And the end of it all, when we finally got into the train we were
1. exhausted
2. full beyond capacity

I set the alarm for midnight, for i knew that even though it was just half an hour away, there was no chance either of us would be awake till then. And i was right. The alarm rang at 12. We got up, i wished him, we stuffed down the pastries and were snoring by 12.02.

Happy birthday, Thurupmukka!

Been a while since I got back from the ski trip. An amazing week filled with trains, rocks, snowfall, snow, skis and fireplaces. Snowfall is breathtakingly beautiful, snow simply amazing! Rock climbing is a little scarier than I thought but as much fun. Skiing is a lot more hard work than I'd ever imagined! But once you learn enough to be able to zoom down the slope fast enough to get the feel of a free fall, there are few things better. Presenting some random snapshots of the week.

Whether they were coming back from lunch, dinner, skiing or a short 5 minute stroll in the sun, the moment anyone entered the room they made a beeline for the fireplace. A small stove kind of a thing that ran on gas, it was a life saver! Frozen body parts, frozen gloves, wet socks, damp shoes, there was nothing it couldn't set right. I'm sure none of us have looked at God with as much devotion and hope! And even incidents like someone's shoe catching fire could do nothing to lessen it. I dried and re-dried Anjali's gloves so much that they shrank a couple of sizes at least. Varun and I had planned on giving one glove each to our respective kids so that if they ever meet at Kumbh Mela... But Anjali liked the shrunk version so much, she took them away :(

It amazing how one snowfall can turn a barren mountainside into a thriving market! Suddenly there were shops, snow mobiles, snow carts, yaks and scores of instructors. What was more surprising was the number of tourists that suddenly sprang up to meet the supply. Oh how I envy people who can turn up in Manali on a Thursday, on barely a day's notice! Took a short yak ride up the mountain, my yak being uncharacteristically reluctant to climb. I wonder why. Also slid down the mountain sitting inside a truck's tube. Reminded me how much fun simple things can be. Also discovered that the inside portion of a truck's tube is not as spacious as one would like it to be.

Chandigarh. Never seen a city so obsessed with cleanliness. Even the railway station is clean. The lady in charge of the waiting room actually drove us and our baggage out so that the room could be cleaned. Waiting rooms are meant to be cleaned. That people use it for waiting is only incidental, a nuisance at best. The platform cleaner was no better. Neither we nor our baggage came up to his standards of cleanliness and so we all got doused with water. He would have scrubbed us too if only we'd let him! Only when I landed at Lucknow station and was welcomed by a cow and the accompanying smells did those little inconveniences seem worth it.

"If your girlfriend says she wants to talk to you at 5 in the morning and you don't have an alarm clock, you will of course stay up all night. That is the kind of passion you should have for sports", said Kapil Dev when he inaugurated the 41st Inter-IIT sports meet at Roorkee. Do I have that kind of passion? Err... well... no, or I would not still be struggling with my tosses and smashes. The lack of passion however did not stand in the way of a thoroughly enjoyable week spent at IIT Roorkee. There were so many firsts, I don't know where to begin.

It was the first time I was living with a gang of girls all younger to me. I was promptly christened "Super Amma" and was expected to take care of the lot. An expectation which I cruelly crushed on the very first day by losing the house keys. Singing, dancing (not me, of course), breaking the 10 o'clock "curfew", climbing over closed gates and running away from the pursuing watchman, imposing atrocious crushes on one another - we did it all!

It was the first time I had hot chocolate and it was love at first sip! We (I should not take all the credit) managed to finish their hot chocolate supply within two days of our arrival and had to spend the rest of our days licking our lips in memory.

It was the first time I saw hooting as it should not be. Dirty, personal and irrelevant, I'm sure it equally disturbed players of both sides. At times, it even seemed to have a life of its own, independent of the match. There was good hooting too, my favourite being
"Bombay/Delhi/... tum sangarsh karo
Hum tumhare saath hain
Tum hamare bete ho
Hum tumhare baap hain!"

which we adapted for girls matches as

"Bombay/Delhi/... tum sangarsh karo
Hum tumhare saath hain
Tum hamari bahuen ho
Hum tumhari saas hain!"

It was the first time I had 6 meals a day! Almost everyday. Three in the mess and three in the canteen. And at least half of them involved paneer/cheese. It's a wonder I didn't get to a stage where I could form the badminton doubles team all by myself!

Most importantly, it was the first time I participated in a tournament. Saw the pressure, the tension. Got nervous in my first tough match. Realized in the second that nervousness can be controlled. Played decently and we won the gold (!!), all thanks to a brilliant captain, a dedicated coach, and the super-patient and enthusiastic folks back home at Persistent who got me started.

All said and done, there is no place like Inter-IIT to motivate you. It shows you how far you have to go and makes you wish you were there yesterday!

I love train journeys. Or rather, I love to say I love train journeys. The former was true in times when train journeys were few and far in between. They would be family affairs, with at least 4 berths to our name. One could sleep anytime, sit by the window anytime, stand at the train door anytime... Now, life consists of bi-annual train journeys undertaken alone, unless luggage can be counted as a companion. One can either sit at the window all the time or sleep all the time. And not even think about standing at the door. People without exception behave as if girls traveling alone are more likely to be swept off by the wind. And the pantry food manages the impossible - makes me wish I was eating in the mess! I do not step into a train without a book. But more often than not, the book turns out to be one sent to stress-test my patience. I can almost hear Him laughing at the cheap shot. Unable to read, unable to not read, I end up spending most of the journey sleeping.

Despite all this, I still get excited at the prospect of a journey. Those five minutes spent gazing out the window, cool wind in your hair. The day spent among strangers you've never seen before and will never see again. Waking up suddenly, sure that you have overslept, finding that its just ten minutes since you last did the exact same thing, happily going back to sleep. All those crazy things you think about when you are alone.

This time, the TC gave me something to think about. Its night. I am in deep sleep, minding my own business when a hand shakes me awake roughly. A voice follows.

"Bhaisaab, ticket dikhana."

!!!

Another trip. This time to a jungle (redefined to mean a few bushes on a mountain) and a waterfall. Some thoughts follow.

When will the Kumbh Mela be held?

Why do Indians consider the cow to be sacred?

What is the difference between different newspapers like The Hindu, Hindustan Times ... Do they have political leanings?

All questions asked by a French exchange student traveling with us.

Kumbh mela? Yes, I remember reading about it in A Suitable Boy. Its supposed to be held near Sangam, I think. The mela where thousands of babies are lost and hundreds of movies are made. No, no idea when or where or why.

Cow? Sacred? Well, yes. But I mean, what nonsense! We don't believe in all that. We are the new generation. We throw all old beliefs out the window, no questions asked.

The Hindu, well, I think it is a little boring. The Times of India is too populist. Of course newspapers have leanings. No paper is impartial. What are the leanings of these newspapers? Well.. umm... err... I don't really know.

No Past. No present. Will we have a future?

Sound, camera, silence!

Some trivia inspired by my recent trip to a heaven called Pachmarhi (Heaven for me being a place where I can become a monkey, a mountain goat and a buffalo by rotation)

Its not that your friend is bad. Its that she's so bad, she makes me want to put my finger through my eye into my brain and swirl it around.

- F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Episode 206
(someone at Central Perk describing Phoebe's singing)

My sentiments exactly, when I hear those sadistic deaf brutes, also known as drivers, honking away at helpless or worse, non-existent traffic. One of them did it all the way from IIT to the railway station, making sure that everyone for miles around knew the IIT bus was passing through. The journey is bad enough, without you having to lip read what your friend sitting right next to you is saying, 'cos you dare not remove your fingers from your ears. Another one did it inside a national park which had explicit instructions about not using horns! This one was a more refined kind of torture. His horn was actually a switch which he'd turn on and then forget to turn off. Even the slightest bend in the road was negotiated with a blaring horn. So much for national parks being animals' home and us being guests!

***

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE digital cameras. No trip is ever complete without at least one around. Even planning to buy one myself. But sometimes, I get the feeling that it all becomes a little too much. Hotel, click, bridge, click, someone fell, click, sunset, click, walking, click, eating, click. We get so busy recording memories, we stop making them.

***

This year has been a year of visiting temples. I've gone to way over my average yearly quota of them. But I'm yet to see a temple that actually inspires God in me. The crowd, the noise, the rituals! The only thought is my mind when I enter one is - when will I get out? One temple that comes close to my ideal is the Lotus temple in New Delhi. The vastness, the silence, the beauty! The only thing that spoils the effect is rows and rows of chairs meant for people to sit. A little too systematic and earthly to mesh with the divine!

Psychohistory doesn't seem all that impractical, especially when one studies the behaviour of people faced with the prospect of a trip. The first reaction is always an enthusiastic "I-can't-wait-to-get-away". It is when you start discussing the time, the place and in some cases, the money, that reality sets in. The sheer quantity and creativity of excuses I've heard in the past weeks would have staggered me, if I hadn't heard them all before. Having been party to around 7 trips over the last couple of years, I now know the whole process by heart. What follows is the prologue of the trips of a specific group. It can be very easily generalized, as anyone who has ever planned a trip will readily agree.
It always begins with a "Hey, lets go for a trip". To which there is always a general agreement. The when is agreed upon surprisingly fast, the options being restricted to weekends. And then someone pops the question - "Where"? Which is always answered by "the expert" (which I think is a very good thing. One, he knows what he is talking about. And two, ten people talking about a trip invariably come up with twenty suggestions). The expert of course doesn't answer right away, but first demands the facts of the case. And the most pertinent, weirdly enough, is how many people. And thus begins one of the most vexing chicken-and-egg problems in history. A sample conversation that a recruiter has with a prospective candidate invariably takes the following course:

R: Hi! We're planning to go for a trip somewhere next weekend
PC: That's great! Where are you planning to go?
R: *silently cursing the PC for asking the unanswerable* Err.. we haven't quite decided on that yet.
PC: (growing apprehensive about spending his weekend in the company of people with such exceptional decision making capabilities) How can I answer without knowing where we are going?
R: Of course you're right. But can you at least give me a tentative yes? You are free that weekend, right?
Wise PC: Oh no! I suddenly remembered I'm going home that weekend. Sorry!
Desperate PC: Oh no! I suddenly remembered I'm getting married that weekend. Pity you can't make it! *Poof!*
Unwise PC: Yes, I think so.

And thus a very approximate number reaches the expert, who then proceeds to include it in his calculations. A list of prospective locations with pros and cons is sent out. Calculations have to be frequently redone as the variables fluctuate. 3 days to go for D-day and all we have is a very confident expert and no destination. 2 days to go and the expert finally breaks his silence. He names a place that the majority accept with relief and gratitude. The minority is asked to shutup or get out.
If you think that's all there is to it, you've obviously never been a part of this before. All throughout the negotiations, there are *concerns* to be addressed. Concerns about the capability of the drivers, the availability of food, the range of various mobile service providers, the accommodation, the weather... Even after all of them have been addressed to the satisfaction of the candidates and their parents, there are the inevitable dropouts. Client interviews, deadlines, visiting friends, mood swings, academic registrations... I've heard them all. But we always end up with enough people to fill the expert's maruti 800.
However painful the prologue, the story always makes it worth all the headache!

A few days ago, on the 23rd of July, I happened to travel from Kanpur railway station to IIT. I couldn't help looking back. Exactly a year ago, to the day, I had landed in Kanpur to start a new chapter of my life. A year that just flashed by, even though each moment was lived to its fullest. A year filled with more novels and movies than any other year of my life. A year in which I kept odder hours than I ever thought possible. Suddenly, all 24 hours were equal. A year of finding friends who tolerate me at my silliest and friends who motivate me to my brightest. A year of teachers who gave me glimpses of beauty in computer science. I got senti over almost every question paper I had to solve. A year that almost rid me of my fear of presentations. A year which made me wash my own clothes. Believe it or not, it was a first for me and gave me an immense sense of achievement and independence! A year that made me appreciate simple home food. Thier saadam (curd rice) was always heaven, but all the more so now, since it was so rare. A year that made me realize that though not at the "where-I-lay-my-head-is-home" level, I could settle down in any place without too much fuss. A year in which I realized I had changed, but not as much as I thought I had.
A year very different from any I've had. I would have been a different person, had this chapter been differently written.

Happy new year!

All in a morn's work

The devil got to me. Finally. Why else would I suggest we prepone a trip to a nearby Hanuman temple on cycles to 5.30 a.m. when I know I can't fall asleep even if someone gives me sleeping pills before 2 in the night? And why else would I set the alarm for 5 *shudder*, thinking I will have a bath before we leave? Common sense had taken over by the time the alarm rang and I decided to give in to half an hour of bliss. After all, my sleep logged brain reasoned, we go to the temple to cleanse ourselves.
And so we set off, the 6 of us (4 uncleansed) on our mini pilgrimage. I was really looking forward to the ride. A cool breeze, the cloudy July sky, greenery all around, perfect roads and practically no traffic - I could cycle forever! All of this lasted till the IIT gate. And then a rude awakening - Kanpur city! With all its dirt and potholes and traffic (yes, even at 6 in the morning). Don't ask me how I forgot what the city was like. Maybe I was not completely awake.
It only got worse. Rains had left water-filled potholes everywhere and if you spied a truck at a distance you ran for dear life and dear-er clothes, whose cleanliness becomes all the more scared when you wash them yourself. There were stretches of road that the municipal corporation had in all its wisdom decided to lay with pointed rocks. One such stretch and Shailaja and I decided rafting had been less adventurous. By the next stretch, we had become experts. "Peddle forward", I yelled. Grade 3, we decided when we got out of it.
Many such ups and downs later, we reached the temple. It was like any other temple. Darshan over, we braced ourselves for the journey back. We crossed some children cycling to school and I couldn't help thinking that in the afternoon these children would run back home, all excited, yelling - "Mummy, aaj main school pahuncha!" We reached the grade 3 rapid again and I this time I had to cross it with added hurdles - a tempo and some cyclists. Feeling rather proud at having done so without incident, I waited at the other end for Shailaja to catch up, only to find that she had taken a much simpler, safer by-lane and was way ahead of me. No, it was not a stupid thing to do, and no, she was not laughing her head off.
As we entered the campus gates, the contrast hit me once again. And maybe because of it, the campus seemed all the more peaceful, serene, quiet. It felt like I had entered a temple.

Day 5
Yippie! I'm going home!! This last week is going to be terrible. And not only because of the heat. Because of all this senseless, workless waiting. I hope I don't forget the tickets this time! I did a clever thing, keeping them in my purse the day I bought them.

Day 4
I've already started packing. All the stuff I want to take home (mostly consisting of clothes I am too lazy or incompetent to wash myself) lies on my chair. And the tickets? Safe in my purse.

Day 3
Got books from the book club. My nightmare would be a train journey without a book to read. Another would be me getting lost in the book and forgetting to get off (not impossible, I've done stuff almost that bad). One thing I won't be forgetting this time are the tickets.

Day 2
Collected material. Bought CDs. Wrote them. After all they are the second most important I'm talking along. The first? The tickets, of course. And where are they? In my purse, of course. I never knew I could be so organized!

Day 1
Paid the mess bill. Just in time. How they get away with charging so much for garbage is beyond me. The only thing worse is paying a fine to consume stuff prepared by people who flunked the pre-entrance test for the worst cookery school in the world. At least I wont be paying a fine to the railway authorities this time.

Day 0
Tell everybody I'm on my way... I hope these rickshaw people don't think I'm mad. I can't help it, I just can't wipe the huge smile off my face! I don't care! I'm going home! 10 people in a 6 seater as usual, not counting the driver and my luggage. I don't care! I'm going home! Ouch! That pothole hurt! I don't care! I'm going home! With the tickets this time! In the safety of my purse.
My purse???

You thought you could be one of those people? Them with the shining eyes, the wide smiles, the faraway look on their faces. With senses that are lost to the world. Who think nothing of screaming to the wind - "I'm going home!"

Hah! Think again.

Here I am, finally having a home that I can go back to, and how do I spend my holidays? In an empty hostel, with a thesis, a couple of term papers and some assignments for company. Happy holidays? Good joke!

It didn't turn out to be all that bad, though. It started off with a one day trip to Agra, where we judiciously skipped the mental hospital in case any of the inmates recognized people of their kind. Took a couple of days off to take care of the strain from the trip. And overcompensated for all the misery by sleeping and watching movies when awake.

Its almost the end of the holidays and here I am. With almost as much baggage as I had at the beginning, only, facing a much steeper climb.

Closed eyes, clenched fists. A racing heart, pumping excitement and fear.
Leap!
Don't think, don't look. Just let go.
Maybe you'd fall. Bruised for life and forever afraid.
But maybe, just maybe, you'll fly!

This post is one such leap. Our trip to Agra tomorrow is another.

(The reader may be forgiven for thinking the writer has lept, fallen and incurred major brain damages)

A day less ordinary

Girls Hostel - IIT Gate - some place halfway between IIT and railway station - Kalianpur - Girls Hostel - SAC bus stop - Gol Chauraha - Jhakarghatti (NO, i did not make that up) - Gol Chauraha - IIT Gate - Girls Hostel

Sounds like a busy, productive morning? Busy, of course, productive, hah!

Let me start at the very beginning of this tale of extra-ordinary stupidity. 'm so ashamed of it, i want the world to hear it and laugh at my face so that i dont do such things again (I know the world doesn't read my blog, but i really can't yell this out from rooftops)

It all started one fins (?) Sunday morning. It was the day i was to leave for home after 5 months of stay in the hostel. The day started with me getting up an hour and a half later than i'd planned and 20 minutes before i'd planned to leave. No self respecting girl can get ready in 20 minutes and neither did i. I did manage to get out in less than an hour though. Everything packed, breakfast eaten, goodbyes said, i was on my way to the railway station marveling at me speed and efficiency when lightening stuck. I'd forgotten - you won't believe this - my ticket!! It came a such a shock, i took quite some while to gather myself and ask the rickshaw wala to stop. About turn, back to the hostel. With help from and utterly disbelieving and utterly support classmate, I was on my way to catch a bus to catch my train, ticket firmly in place. The bus timetable however did not match the train timetable and i had to accept the fact that i couldn't make it to the station on time.

Angry, ashamed, frustrated, i cancelled my ticket and booked another one for the next day. Came back to the hostel and narrated my story to everyone, wanting them to laugh at my face. Most were either too disbelieving or too polite to do it. Spent the rest of the day drowning myself in serials and movies.

Latest Update:
A new day has come. I'm sitting in the ladies waiting room at Allahabad railway station, writing this story and many many more. The train is 9 hours late. If this is a regular habit with it, i could have walked all the way from Kanpur to Allahabad and still made it on time!