Getting to Know Them

I have always been really bad when it comes to remembering names. Well, sometimes I do remember names and faces individually, but have a really hard time matching them. It takes me a while to be really confident. It's not really a big deal as on an average I may come across not more than two new names/faces a week. Imagine how I struggled when I had to learn up and match more than 150 names and faces in a matter of 3 weeks or so.

Getting into college was an exciting phase of my life. The freedom that comes with leaving home and the thought of making a whole new set of friends, were too tempting to resist. Right from the day I entered my hall (hostel), I was eager to start a new life. I had no idea about ragging and did not know to what extend it existed, but I didn't care. I was in MCC, and was going to make the best of it.

I remember walking into the hall with my luggage and coming face to face with a bunch of guys. Since I had to pass them, I said, "Hi, I'm Divyan. What's your name?" I got no response, but instead got a few ugly stares. Hhmm ok, not the really friendly types i guess. I continue you walk down the hall and I hear someone from behind, "Hey you. What's your name?" Ah, finally the friendly types. I happily respond, "I'm Divyan. Whats your name?" No response. He just walks off without even a stare. What's wrong with these people? A few minutes later as I am just about to enter my room, I pass by another happy looking guy who asks me for me name. I reply, "I'm Divyan, and what's your name?" He just smiles broadly and said, "You will find out soon enough." Oh ok, I get it. We are going to have some ice breaker game later on where we officially get to meet everyone.

I was wrong. There was no game and no friendly gesture from anyone. I soon realize that I am supposed to find out the names, room numbers and departments of more than 150 seniors. The worst part is that everyone refuses to tell us their names. How the heck am I supposed to find out? If out of desperation I approach someone and said, "Sir, can I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" the response I always got was, "WHAT? You don't know my name? How dare you! Go jump into the pond. Go duck yourself you worthless piece of shit." Let me not even get into how random guys just show up and ask, "Whats my room number? Which department do I belong to?" Uh? Excuse me. How would I know? "You don't know? Do duck in the pond" was their response. Honestly I lost track of how many times I jumped into the pond.

All said and done, in less than a month, most of us juniors knew every single person in the Hall by name, room number and even department. Suddenly it all began to make sense. We were not strangers or just individuals who came and left. We were one big family where everyone knew each other really well. That is why we do not call our place of residence as a hostel. It is much much more than that.

As the year ended, I waited eagerly for the new batch of students to walk in, so I could torture them with the task of finding out my name, room number and department, while keeping it a secret all the while. I had my fun and one of my unfortunate victim was none other than Mojo Jojo. He still refuses to let go of that incident and still harps on the fact that I was responsible for him jumping into the piss pond for the first time. Either way, he knew me well and we got close and now are good friends. So, if you ask me if id still try and memorize a hundred plus names and numbers, I wouldn't hesitate for long.

Dreams Untrue

Finally, I have come one step closer to realizing one of my dreams to have my own music album. Pretty ironic title for a song which helped me realize my dream, but what the hell. We have just finished a very rough mix of one song titled "Dreams Untrue" and it can be heard right HERE or even HERE. Please do download and listen to it and I would really appreciate your comments or even abuses.

Driving and Riding

Some people stare at me when I say that I do not know how to ride a bike. Yes, that's true. I have never owned one and neither have I tried to ride one. Until Two years ago, I could not even drive a car. Trust me, this was never because I did not have access to any. In fact, all my friends right from school days had bikes and even while coming into college and passing out, I was around people who had cars or bikes. I somehow never developed a fancy for either. 

I do feel left out of a conversation when guys talk about this bike and that bike. I do not even know what a two stroke or three stroke means. If someone spots a Ferrari or a Merc on the road, its a WOW moment, but I couldn't be the least bit bothered. So what if it has cruise control. So what if you think the bullet is such an awesome machine. I am just not turned on by it. In school, I was pretty much satisfied with a TVS 50 that was lying home. I am sure my parents felt lucky, cause I was one boy who never begged for a bike when I turned 18. It did not bother me that my friends zoomed away on their Suzuki and Kawasaki, while I tumbled along on my rickety old TVS 50.

When I look back, I realized that all my life, my father had warned me about getting on a bike. It was totally forbidden. I would not even ride along with someone else. Of course, this rule was always broken. Just by the number of time he mentioned this, I believe I developed a fear. I believed that riding is something that is totally unsafe. Well, lets accept it. To a great degree, it really is unsafe. Majority of the accidents happen NOT because of your mistake. I don't blame my father for being so paranoid. He managed to ram his Yezdi into a bus and go under the wheels, a month or two before I was born. He survived.

My mother has never been so paranoid, but I am sure that the feelings she went through when I was in her tummy, was enough to install the fear in me. Yes, even before I was born, it was determined that I would never enjoy riding. Even before I was born, I was taught that it was unsafe and that is was something to be feared about. Something I strongly feel even to this day. I feel stressed each time I need to go out somewhere.

Since I have never driven or ridden, I spent a lot of money on autos. It was always frustrating to argue and haggle with them and give away huge sums of money to the ones that never deserve it. Recently a friend of mine asked me to take her unused Scooty. I thought about it and decided to give it a shot. It has been a little more than a month now since I have been using it. I still get worked up before I need to go somewhere, even if it is to the store close by. I try not to ride it too far of. That thing does not go fast, so there is no question of over speeding. Something I really hate. I don't have a license and have never thought of getting one.

My brother got a car a while ago and I am not excited about driving. Again I don't have a license yet, but will be getting one soon. I figured its a lot safer than a two wheeler. It's funny but I learnt driving in USA. A friend I was staying next to, forced me to learn. He literally did force me. I was glad he did. He took the initiative to literally drag me to the license office and take a license, which I got at the first attempt. Again, I'm grateful for that. Due to that, I can now drive.

At the end of it all, I am glad I am trying to drive/ride. I am sure that I would get over the fear sometime soon. I really am saving a lot of money over the autos and it saves me the arguing and haggling. So next time I am behind any of you on a bike and if I cringe when you drive fast, please understand. If you are sitting next to me or behind me and if I do not go as fast as you expect me to, please understand.

Run Mac, Run

I cannot run to save my skin. Blame it on my physique or on the fact that I have had no reason to run, ever. Few fast paced steps will leave me panting and I really cannot imagine how I managed to play hockey in school. Ah well, I was the goal keeper, but still. I don't think I ever participated in the school sports day ever. I preferred to be in the school band. I prefer a casual stroll any day, but what do you do when you have no choice but to run?

While in college, one of the most anticipated event every year is always the Heber-Martin Marathon. For the uninitiated, Heber = men's hall and Martin = women's hall. How much fun would it be to run along with the women and how terrible would it be if any man finished after any of the women. As always, only freshers take part in the race. The whole distance covered around the campus might be close to 1.5km. Now the women don't start the race with us. They wait in front of their hall, which is 500 metres away from the finish line, and they join in once the boys have crossed their hall. From that point, it is a race to the finish and every mans dignity lies in balance. My turn to run as a fresher came in 1997.

We were woken up early that morning by the seniors and were made to line up. Surprisingly, most of us were well dressed in our best t-shirts and shorts and really clean shoes, though it was just a race. We were briefed on the route and rules to be followed. We were warned of the terrible consequences that awaited us if any woman managed to finish ahead of any of us. "YES SIR", was our pumped up reply. "On your marks, set, GO". And we were off. Oh well, at least most of them.

The first few steps were important and I gave it all I had. After a few meters, the route turns left, away from the prying eyes of the mighty seniors. The moment they were out of sight, I stopped running. As far as I was concerned, my race was over. I thought that some of the chubbier and unhealthy ones might stop running, but I was wrong. The extent that some people will go to, to impress women. In a few seconds, the rest of the pack disappeared from my view. All except one. It was a dopehead, who was probably annoyed that he was awakened from his trance, and was probably still in his trance like state to even be bothered about the race.

With no one else in sight, the two of us decided to take a stroll. He told me that he knew a hidden path, through the forest that would bisect all twists and turns and take me directly to the turning near the finish line. Since we were inside the forest and covered by the thick greens, no one would spot us. Our plan was to wait near the finish line, hidden safely in the bushes and to wait for the runners to arrive. We would jump in and join the crowd and finish the race like everyone else. We ditched the main path and went into the forest. He led me through the dimly lit path. Well, it was hardly a path. We were just finding our way through the mess. Since we had a lot of time, we casually stopped along the way and admired a few flowers and plants. He even told me that it was a good place to grow some pot. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had a small harvest somewhere there.

We reached the main path, where we are supposed to hide and jump in with the rest of them. We crouched down and waited. And waited, and waited. Where were these people? After many agonizing minutes, we figured that something was not right. We came out of hiding and cautiously made our way towards our hall. To our horror, the prize distribution ceremony was going on. The race had been over eons ago and now we are in solid trouble. The pot head was least bit bothered. This is where it helps to be a little crooked.

Now it was my turn to lead him. We quietly took the road that leads to the back of the hall. We slipped in through the kitchen and on our way to the front, we stopped by at the bathroom and I took and mug of water from the tank and poured it over my head. I made sure that enough of it fell on my t-shirt to give it the sweaty look. Oh yes, now we really looked like we had been running overnight. We walked towards the entrance where the winners were being announced. The boys were busy looking at the women, and we quietly slipped in with the other boys in sweaty t-shirts, like we always belonged there.

After the women left, the seniors called three freshers who unfortunately finished behind the women. They were given a sound thrashing and made to jump into the piss pond as punishment. Well, that's whats happens when you try to do stuff to impress women. You end up floating in a pond full of piss. As for me, well, I won no race and I impressed no woman. Forget impress, I never even saw one, but I felt that I had won. I couldn't help but laugh when one mighty senior came up to me later and said, "Good job. Well run."

The Gospel Of Mac: Chapter 1

I have been asked before about why I have never had a post on Religion. I don't really know what prevented me from writing. Maybe it could be because I am certain that a few might disagree. It could be because my own views have been changing. Either way, it does not matter as each one is entitled to what they believe. It might make sense to go one topic at a time. All views expressed here are my own and what I believe as of today. Prove or convince something else to me and I will gladly jump over. Disagreement and hate mails are welcome.

GOD: Creation, Responsibility, and a Whole Lot More.
I do believe in God. Let me make that clear right away. However I do not believe that there is a bearded man sitting high above the clouds and watching over us. I do not believe that there is someone up above keeping a track of all the good and bad we do. I find it hard to believe there is someone up above who with a flick of his finger, can make earthquakes and landslides happen. The God I believe in is a powerful force that exists all over. It exists inside you and me. You do not have to look up or stare at an alter to experience God.

I do not believe that God took clay and moulded two humans and blew life into them. It amuses me when I hear people talk about creation and evolution and how they argue that each one is the right one. Couldn't it be that they are both pretty much the same thing, but explained differently? How could you expect the authors of Genesis to explain in great detail about the early man? They wrote it in the most simple way they could that required the least amount of explanation. They simple said "God created man". This pretty much ruled out the need for further explaining. In the modern age, with the vast knowledge we have, people found a more logical explanation for how humans came to be. The problem is, each one claims that the other is wrong. I believe they are both the same thing. Evolution could not have happened without a much greater force and creation took place through the process of evolution.

One argument that I used to hate, or that which amuses me the most is when I hear someone say that God causes bad things to happen so that he can test how strong we are, or to teach us something in life. Really? Try explaining that to someone who just lost their only child. Try saying that to someone who lost all their family in an earthquake. Now what exactly was God trying to teach with the death of a child? I find it impossible to accept a God like that. The God I know does not do that. The God I know believes that we as humans are capable of figuring out things on our own, through our own experiences. So does God control the wind and the waves? NO. Earthquakes happen. War happens. Children die. Shit happens. It just happens. No one from above caused this. We love to pass the responsibility over to someone else, so we blame it on God, saying it was his mighty plan, thereby relieving us from the responsibility and from dealing with it. There is no plan. You decide your destiny. You work hard and earn something, it was because you worked hard and because you deserved it. If something bad happens, it's probably because you screwed up somewhere and definitely not a lesson from above. Even if you do not screw up, like I said, shit happens. The God I know would want us to be responsible for all actions and want us to take credit for our achievements.

So how exactly do I experience God? Never once have I experienced God in church. Not once have I found God in places where people have told me I could find him. Now don't tell me I have not searched hard enough. You know that's crap. I experience God when I go out of my way to help someone or do a good deed. I experience God when I try to live an honest and truthful life. I experience God when I do my best to never cause any intentional physical or emotional harm to someone. I experience God when I am able to put a smile on someones face. I experience God when I am able to give someone hope. I experience God when I can cook and eat something delicious. I experience God when I take the first sip of my morning tea. I experience God with each hug I receive. I can go on and on, but I have never felt this kind of experience in church. Raising your hands, jumping and shouting hallelujah in church just does not do it for me. No offence to those of you who experience God that way.

Praying (self talk) does wonders. I believe that it does, but it does work in a different way for me. In us, we have our conscious self as well as subconscious self. Consciously we want and need something, but our subconscious gives us a negative message, based on our past experiences, which tells us that we might not get what we want. For example, if a person is undergoing depression and if he decided to pray about it, there are chances that he could be cured to a great degree. Consciously he wants to be free from depression, but his subconscious keeps feeding him with messages like "you are not good enough", "you are worthless" and "you do not deserve a good life" and so on. When someone prays over and over again, the conscious self is fighting the subconscious and with time and with consistency the subconscious learns the messages the conscious self has been giving. Once this has happened, it forgets all the negative messages and starts to give out positive messages. Depression gone. For me, prayer is more like a positive self talk that we give ourselves. We consciously convince our subconscious  to work towards achieving what we consciously want.

It would not be fair to go on about everything in one post. There are lots that can be said and lots that can be argued about. I had a professor in one of my theology class who said early on that we should all come to class with an open mind. We should be willing to change and explore new ideas. We should give the ideas a chance to convince us. If it does not, then it doesn't matter. We will still have something to believe in. In the same way, I change and so do my beliefs. To end this off, I feel that the most important trait we should always carry with us is the ability to respect another persons beliefs, whether we believe in it or not. To believe that your way is the only right way, would be your biggest folly. Thus spoke the Gospel of Mac.

Ah, That's Magic

My favorite sweet dish has always been Rasgulla, and always will be. As a four year old child growing up in Calcutta, I was exposed to it quite early and I have been in love with it since. I could still eat it everyday and no matter where I have had it from, the ones that come from Calcutta are the best. The taste still lingers in mouth.

Since we had plenty in Calcutta, we always had some at home. There was hardly a time when we did not have Rasgulla. The problem with keeping that at home was that I would eat more than I should and always finish a pot full in a day. My parents decided that the best thing to do would be to hide it from me, somewhere high above, deep inside those unreachable kitchen shelves. After one point of time, I was given the impression that we did not buy Rasgulla anymore, and I had no idea that they were being hidden from me. Strangely, every day I was in school I would open my lunch box to find one Rasgulla. I was happy, yet curious to how it appeared magically in my box, considering that we never had any at home. One day I decided to confront my dad.

I asked him how those Rasgullas magically found their way into my lunch box even though we had none at home. Of course, my dad was not going to give his game up. He said, "Ah, that's magic. We do not have any at home, but I can do magic and make it appear in your lunch box everyday". Ah well, what the heck. I bought that story and I did not complain as long as they appeared in my lunch box every day. I went to school everyday believing that my father was a magician, who could make Rasgullas appear out of nowhere. How wonderful. What more could I ask for. I believe I have tried asking my father over and over again about the source of the Rasgulla, but the only answer I got was, "Ah, that's magic".

Sometimes it's amazing how kids learn and how they can leave their parents at a loss for words with the innocent things they do and say. Sometimes you just got to give in to the kids. My father probably thought that the magic story was a good one and might also shut me up from probing the origin of the Rasgulla. It was to meet it's demise soon.

Over few days my parents noticed that each day when I came back from school I had something small that did not belong to me. One day it was a pencil, the next day it was an eraser, a crayon and so on. Honestly, I don't remember, but I am assuming that I must have taken them from some of the students. One day however when my parents were cleaning or taking stuff out of my bag, they noticed a lot of stuff that clearly did not belong to me. There were many pencils, sharpeners, erasers, crayons, scales etc etc. Now they were concerned that their dear son must be stealing from others. I remember my dad calling me and showing me my stolen goods and asking me where I got all this from. I swear I did not think twice, but my natural response was, "Ah, that's magic".

The Rasgullas were back in the refrigerator the same day.

United State of Mind - 3

I wish I could be half the person my dog thinks I am.