Catch 22

It was love at first sight…….not with the chaplain but with the book…..there it stared at me from the Wheeler’s book store. Rs. 250….just the amount of money I had for the journey home. Fine I’ll go hungry….but I’ll have the book……
That was one year ago….I remember when I started it……the first reaction was that of shock…the shock one experiences with anything utterly new……….
There was Yossarian with his magnetic charm......major major major major with his insecurities…….Orr, Dobbs, Dunbar……..and god himself…..MILO……..
First time I read it I left it after 400 pages…..biggest mistake of my life…..
2 months back I picked it up again…..and fell in love all over again……
It is a different book with lotsa things thrown at you without any pretext….but therein lies its beauty……
Then there are the moments of soul searching questions………like Yossarian discussing god with his whore…….or Yossarian being the only sane one because he wanted to survive……or the very nature of catch22…………..
Yes, it helped me cure my sleeping problems………morning noon or night….I just had to pick it up and start reading….I would get the sweetest sleep ever……I am in no way trying to undermine the nature of the book……..may creepy maggots eat me alive if I do…….this is just what happened
So what is the book actually about……a lot of things….world war 2……life of combatants……various human personalities………..and catch 22 which says you can go home if you say you are crazy…..but if you say you are crazy you no longer are…………..go figure………

Should have written this one looong ago…but better late then never….

AFTER 6…….

So you finished with your tata-bye bye at PMC by 1810 and managed to get your ass inside H-9 by 1815 only to get in the loooong line in front of the ‘sign-in’ register. You curse the system as you wait in line surrounded by sweaty and stinky girls….one signature each day to certify your presence in the hostel. Finally you reach the register…….now begins the search for a pen because some girl absent mindedly walked away with the original. You notice something strange on the register….nobody in your lobby has signed….bang it hits you then….its your signing day…you have to sign for the whole lobby. You have to do it in a clandestine fashion because it caught the warden will give you a hard time. Somehow you manage to forge 10 signatures…….its 1630….

With some hope you go to the food counter….only to be rebuffed rudely…..’chai bajey ke baad kuch nahi milega’ says a fat mausi and leaves…..still hunger makes you persistent and you scrape at the leftover samosa and cold chai……

You reach your room…..your roommate is absent but there is music playing…..not only from your room but from the 10 rooms surrounding yours….its a funny headache you get after you listen to a) Zombie b) where is the party tonight c) hanuman chalisa at the same time……..

You go to take a shower…….only to find the drain clogged with long strands of silky black hair. The wash basin is no better……..egg shells left by some lady who washed her hair with it. You really have to appreciate the variety of things girls will put on their faces and hair…..any thing form ripe tomatoes and bananas to sea weed and algae…….yuck!!

The time between 1900 and 210o flies in a daze. It’s finally time for dinner and your friends drag you to the dining hall. Another long line is waiting for you. But once the parathas arrive it’s a scene to behold. Manners, etiquettes and all such inconveniencies are cast aside and girls give way to the animal inside them. They jump, they snatch and they fight…..to get two hot parathas. You join in the fun and throw in a few expletives to make the atmosphere more charged. After few such fights you get your food and as you go to the table to eat hungry eyes of girls till waiting in line follow you…….

Back in your room you realize you forgot to fill water. Damn! No way are you going to the first floor to do it now so you dwell in your need. You spread your sheets and get to work. Why the fuck did I take architecture you wonder…….but other girls have a better life. 90% are out with their cell phones huddled in corners talking on and on and on to god knows who. Others not afflicted by the cell addiction are huddled in groups in one others room talking to each other. I am in awe of the ability of girls to talk about practically nothing for hours…..

from your room you get a view of what others are doing….some are dancing for no good reason….some are having a fashion parade and some are simply laughing their heads……strange….damn strange……

so you see….its a weird world in there. From being deprived of food to being bullied by mausis….I bet you expected me to write about the good things in there….like girls moving about in practically no clothes…..maybe tomorrow when I am not so sleepy I will….

Some things I learnt from NKB

non-attachment to sense objects is liberation, attachment is bondage. Such knowledge is virility, now do as you please.
Naan naan, thul thul( small small, big big) you worry too much about small things hence have big problems.
Kanchan kamini
maun noon kaun—maun- I shall keep quiet and not speak unnecessarily
noon- I shall not say ‘ there is little salt in the food’ i.e criticize unnecessarily
kaun- I shall stay in a corner and not meddle too much in worldly affairs.

How much of this I follow is another story………….

UNDERTAKER RETURNS........

Here I was….still recovering from the shock of meeting Bulldog, when I ran into The Undertaker…
Tell me, I said, are you the same Kannan?
I sure as hell am!!!
Bless my soul!
Tell me one thing….you haven’t turned all girlie girlie by any chance?
No. Once a tomboy, always a tomboy. How is The Kid? Does he remember me?
You were our GI Joe goddess and that is not something easily attained!
Remamber Diplodocus, T-Rex and the crazy storylines.
That is Thukoosauraus for you ma’m.
The bhelpuri, sandwiches and lemonade.
Behind the bushes.
It was a lot of fun!
The best I ever had!

No matter how many years pass and no matter what I do, I can never stop loving these crazy boys. In old comic books, in old toys, in a cricket bat, in a WWE ring, I shall see their faces. Because from them stem my best memories…..the happiest ones. With them I have known the joys of being young, of doing whatever I felt like without fear, of letting go completely. To know them and to be with them was the best thing that ever happened to me.

More books…….

The Eye of the Needle: Ken Follet: read while babysitting Paarth and as the roof fell over our heads……german spy steals an English secret for fuhrer that could change the course of WW2. Mostly cat and mouse game between the police and Die Nadel. Can’t help loving him for his efficient ways. At last dies because was foolish enough to have sentiments for a woman.

Day of the Jackal: a man without a name or nationality hired to kill the French President. Jackal plans everything to the minutest details, fools the police of 3 nations and single handedly gets his shot at the president. But luck fails him when he needed it the most…..the moment he takes his shot the president bends to medal someone. Phatach! The commissioner gets him. The day of the Jackal had come……….

The Catcher in the Rye::

Read it on a 27hr train journey. Finally, a very realistic book about adolescence. Though a bit too realistic. The protagonist is perpetually in a state of depression because everything around him is ‘phony’. There are only two things that give him pleasure- his little sister and his childhood friend. These two are just what they seem. Other than this there are themes of moral degradation and dissatisfaction from life……..my final word……SIGH!!!

When Girls Change Tubelights....

The problem was simple.

Panks wanted her tube light changed. So when she entered my room looking for someone who knew how to do it, I jumped at the opportunity. I call it an opportunity because I love changing tubelights and bulbs. Yeah, it looks strange for a hobby but I can’t help myself.

I removed the functional tube from Anu’s room (who had long ago moved out) and took out the dead one from Panks’. Now this presented a problem as the holder was a bit twisted and my position was hardly comfortable. The chair, which was in turn on top of Panks’ bed, was shaking. The simple solution would have been to fix the twisted holder with a pair of tweezers. However my enthusiasm for changing tubes is equaled by my fear of getting electrocuted. I cannot touch the damn thing even if the mains are switched off (strange combo!!!)

So there I was trying to get the thing in when Poo entered. I was so happy doing what I was doing and turned to tell her about it. I, however, forgot that the fan was on. Clang! The tube was split into half as if by a blow by Darth Wader himself. The three of us stared at the broken pieces now scattered all over the place. Shit!!

However the spirit of a tube light changer is not easily broken. While cleaning her room another idea struck!! Panks agreed.
At midnight we slipped into the guest room of our hostel, replaced the working tube there with our dead one and ran as if we had just looted Swiss bank. Half an hour of twisting and turning the holder the tube light finally fit. Both Panks and I were covered in sweat (the fan was OFF this time!). We prayed to god, blew the conch and flicked the switch on. Nothing!!! Like a madman I flicked it again and again!! No result after six hours of hard work and sweat can be depressing and with a glum and broken spirit we went to bed.
Two days later the electrician told us that it was the switch that was not working properly.

THE BULLDOG AND ME

“Do you remember?” I asked him.
“Every single bit of it.” said he.

I was talking to him after eight long years but still it seemed yesterday when I went to his place for a game of Mario.
So, did you join the WWE?
Naah, did you join the Indian cricket team?
Naah.
Well, such is life
Yeah, such is life. He sighed.

Hey, are you in touch with the other five?
No, just you.
So what happened? Where did they go?
Well you left, the Anil and Priyanka left after a month and finally Aditya. I left after two years. By that time it had become very boring.

Hey remember the time I broke your arm?
Yeah, thanks to you I got a week’s holiday from school.
And all the glasses we broke in that abandoned house!!
That was bloody brilliant!! Though I still remember the repercussions!!
We both laughed.

Those two years were the best years of my life.
Hey, mine too.
I can never forget those cricket matches. I still play, though it’s not that much fun.
You were a good player. I always picked you for my team.
We could never beat the Giant though.
Yes. What is he doing now?
He is going to get married soon.
Time flies. Yesterday he was playing cricket with us.
Flies, my dear friend, is an understatement.

Hey I see that you are committed. We were supposed to be soul mates you know.
That is just nonsense. I am still your soulmate, your better half and your best friend.
This time we cried.

Just for the record, I am still the NC lines Champion.
I want to have a re-match.
I am ready anytime you are.
Ok soon.
Good night Austin.
Good night Bulldog.
I wish when I get up I am 12 again.
Amen!

First year at BIT

You hear a lot about college from your elder brothers and sisters. You imagine this place with no uniform, no parental guidance and very little studies, in short, a place where the party never ends. But this dream bubble gets brutally popped when you enter the gates of Birla Institute of Technology (they should add a :ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK board there).

For the first five minutes you see nothing but trees, trees and more trees with hostel buildings peeking from behind done up in gay(pun intended) yellow and spotted with undies. Finally you reach your own cellular jail. And then your warden says the two magic words “IN TIME”. Things get worse with the stuff they call food and hell holes called toilets.

First day of class, hope rises again. With buoyant steps you enter the building. A swarm descends upon you- SENIORS. From the next day on salwaar kameez, oily hair and bathroom chappals become your style statement. They make you sing, dance or act the fool anytime anyplace. At night you sob your stories to parents and hope you had never left home.

After the first week something happens….something they call orientation. You get used to it. You tell yourself, “It maybe bad but it is what I have to live with now”. And then the fun begins…..

You share your sorrows with your jail mates. You form a team and have fun at Techneek. You enjoy the sad show at Fugia. You experience the joys of free SMSing. You slip off to Subarnrekha right under the guard’s nose. You learn how to study the night before the exam and still get good marks. You learn to play the guitar. You come across funny words like PMC and BABA. Seniors don’t seem so bad when they hand over notes and treat at CCD.

College campus is a place where rumors spread fast. For one whole week you gossiped about a girl from your hostel getting married even when she lived as a happy spinster in the next room. You hear one day that your room was raided and enough stuff was found to earn a narcotics officer a lifetime achievement award. In reality not even a room heater was found!!!

Suddenly you realize that this jungle is always abuzz. Drishyant, Genisis, Dope Seminar. During BITotsav you wish you had Hermione’s time turner because you have to participate in 4 events at the same time.

And now as you finish this blog entry from home you can’t wait to go back. The place has somehow grown on you. The administration may be cold and apathetic or plain non-existent (except on registration day) but the students take care of the rest. The best soldiers are the ones that take the hardest obstacle course. So cadet tie up your boots for another action packed semester !!!!!