24/02/08 Sunday 00:29 am
No 5, 1 A
Placeta Silleria
Granada 18010
Andalucia
Spain
That’s my house address!!!!!!!!!!
So finally dad, have started writing …. Though you told me to start writing about my
Europe experience; felt that I should start from the beginning.
Its not that I am too proud about my memory power, which is one of god’s biggest gift; it’s the fact that there are lot many factors which have decided my course of life till now.
Where to begin with ….. That remains one of the biggest questions now….
Hhhhhmmmmmm… Let’s start from wherever I remember as a small child.
L-35, 6 th Cross
Staff Quarters
Manasagangothri
Mysore- 570006
Karnataka
India
This is my, sorry, was my old house address. It was the time when my parents came back from France and shifted to this place along with dadima (My paternal grandmother- Noorunnisa Begum). I was born on 3 rd December 1985 at Kiran Nursing Home, Agrahara. This was at those times one of the biggest nursing homes, Mysore city boasted of. Though 20 years down the lane, it stands somewhere amidst the high rise buildings, apartments, busy streets and countless shops in a depleted condition with nobody to care for. I don’t know whether it is still functioning or has been closed down. I do see it every time I pass by it. The board is still there, the building with over grown garden surrounding it resembles an old man filled with misery, just waiting for his death.
Sitting here in Spain at the moment, I am feeling bad. But as usual, like millions of others, at billions of circumstances, I am Helpless.
That road became one of the most frequently traveled one during my post school days, especially the engineering days. The reason, Many!!!
Planet X to start with when it was opened in 2001. I am not very sure about the year, but it was when I had passed out from St Joseph Central School and joined DMS to do my +2. The other reasons were; chamundi hills and helipad.
I won’t be surprised if I don’t happen to see that board and the dilapidated building, next time when I pass on that road on my way to one of the destinations I mentioned above.
I also expect to see a big board in front of a huge building, either apartments or a commercial complex. Now, since I have started writing, I have realized how much importance I give to that place unknowingly or in my sub conscious level.
May be, that’s the beauty of Writing. The small things deep in your heart compressed by the day to day routines and other important happenings just come out when given a chance. I firmly believe in “Forget the past, Live the Present and Move on to the future”. This sentence I have proudly put on Orkut. May be that’s the reason I was skeptical about writing. Though my dad only said to start writing my travel and Europe experience; I seriously don’t know why I chose to start writing from the beginning.
Back to 1985, I faintly do remember some things; the garden, verandah, pomegranate plant and two big coconut trees. Of course, not to forget the numerous snakes my dad killed. Love you Dad!!! Not for killing the snakes, just like that, felt like expressing.
The problem I am facing now is; there are hundreds of things in mind and by the time I jot down few incidents, hundred more crop up. Now I see; how tough it is to bring your thoughts onto the paper.
I was the first son and also the first child of the third generation from my mother’s side.
My dad is my mother’s paternal aunt’s youngest son. So, they were first cousins.
Nevertheless, in this , what can I say, a book, a short story or whatever it finally turns out to be, I would not go into too very personal details of mine and also would not involve others’ personal life into this.
Being the first child, I was obviously pampered a lot by the whole family.
A year after I was born, my mother went back to her studies and completed her Masters in Literature (Urdu) from University of Mysore.
It was during this period when I became attached to my aunt and uncle (My mother’s younger sister and brother).
They too were studying, though not very serious I guess ;)-. My aunt used to take care of me very well. She used to dress me up like a girl, change my hair style and all the crappy things anyone can think of. She used to take me around the garden and the university campus. I still remember when my mother was doing her masters, my aunt used to be in the house. While she would cook for everybody, I would silently play with the vessels. Sounds funny, but I was always fascinated by them. I always used to wonder how few ingredients put into them turn out to be such wonderful dishes. I was always in my own world. I also had a time table then. I used to feel hungry whenever the clock ticked 9:00 in the night and would soon feel sleepy irrespective of the fact that whether I would really be hungry or sleepy. That characteristic is still there in me. Whenever I go outside, here in Granada, I feel cold or warm depending on what digit is displayed on the digital thermometer which is placed near the traffic signal. Sounds weird; but that’s the fact. That is human psychology.
My uncle used to take me around in his Moped (Luna Super) which was stolen right in front of our eyes from their old house in N R Mohalla.
I joined school when I was 3 years old. It was a baby sitting school right on the busy Hunsur Road next to the St Josephs Campus.
I just remember the big black dog in the cage. Anybody who used to disturb the class or cry very much were threatened to be put in that dog cell. I think my feeling of being scared by dogs started from there. I don’t remember crying a lot during those days or being very naughty and getting punished by the teachers.
It was just one year stint at that place before I entered the St. Joseph Institution.
It was the best school at that time; though it still has its own value even now, but the choice for parents to send their wards have multiplied ten times.
My stay here began from kindergarten and went on till 10th standard.
I don’t want to give too much of statistical details because it makes the whole thing a boring stuff. The reason why I started writing was to bring my journey, the journey of my life from a shy, timid small boy who was scared by people and who was always bossed over by the senior members of the neighborhood, to a 22 year old adult now in Europe doing his Masters, onto the paper before things start dissipating from my mind.
I am already, sleepy now. Its time I hit the bed. I really don’t know when I would come back to this. But since it has started I would really like to get it going.
Till then; goodbye.
3: 20 pm 25/02/08 Monday
My room, Granada
It has been a lazy day till now; waking up at around 1:00 in the afternoon. The cold weather coupled with cloudy sky and light showers makes the person even lazier. Anyways, if you want to find reasons, you can find them in hundreds.
Going back to the nineties; I have very faint memories about my kindergarten years in St.Joseph School.
Miss Rekha being the only prominent teacher I remember clearly. Also Miss Ingrid was more a family member than a teacher. But that was mostly due to my kid brothers especially Noeman. One person of those times whom I can hardly forget is, our Head mistress; Miss Nirmala Das.
There are very few persons I have hated or disliked till now; and she comes, though not under the hatred category, but; definitely under the disliked ones. She was a very good person, a very good teacher and a good administrator, but; her one sentence about me had a huge impact on my parents and also on me. She had said that I would not be able to do anything on my own and would always need my father. Frankly speaking, what she said was not totally wrong or baseless. She had said it based on her observation that time. But the fact that my parents had taken it so very seriously and the frequent taunts by them that Nirmala Das was absolutely right increased my hatred ness towards her. It also decreased my self confidence to a great extent. Being a very timid and shy boy, the impact was even more and it took nearly two decades to finally come over it. It might come as a surprise if I reveal out that this was one of reasons; though a minute one; for me to take up this European scholarship program. Actually it was not like this masters program fascinated me, it was the deviation from Polymer Science (which is my father’s one of the specialties), I was attracted to. I will get into details of this once I reach that point.
In 1989, 0n july 27th 2 am, Noeman was born and fifteen months later the youngest was born, Usman. The sudden happenings in a period of two years changed the whole set up. The responsibility factor increased in me naturally. It was a big family and I being the eldest brother. Infact, can write a whole book on my brothers. But, as I had promised I would not get into others details. It was that time when my mother stayed in N.R. Mohalla with her mother and brothers. I used to shuttle between my house in Manasagangothri, my school in Jayalakshmipuram and my granny’s place.
Weekends would be spent there with the whole family joining in for Sunday dinner.
And then the return trip back to my house at around ten in the night would be the most adventurous one. It would be on my dad’s first scooter. Bajaj Chetak, light green in color which was very well maintained. My dad riding it with mom on the pillion seat and I would sit compressed in between both of them. Noeman would stand infront of dad and Usman would have slept off within few minutes on my mothers’ lap. And a big bag containing all the clothes would be hooked near the leg along with another bag containing vegetables and meat. Hats off to my parents!!! I still don’t understand how they even managed that. Also from having a peugot in France on these European roads and leading such a lifestyle; going back to India and starting all over again with one scooter for the whole family just amazes me. I would definitely be saving or earning abroad before going back to India to finally settle down.
My admission into St. Joseph Central School was pretty smooth as said by my mother.
There was an interview which I don’t remember at all, and I was supposed to have done well in it. Good enough to sail into the prestigious school. Those were the times when there were hardly any schools in Mysore offering CBSE syllabus.
My class teacher was Miss Sarla. I have no clue about her now. But I do remember that thin lady always smiling and comforting the tiny tots. Her red shawl first comes into my mind when I think of her. The timings were quite different. It was because from our batch started the two section concept in this school. We were the first batch to have ‘A’ section and ‘B’ section. I was unfortunately in ‘A’ section, which meant classes were from 7:30 am to 11:30 am. And ‘B’ section had afternoon classes. I seriously don’t understand still, what was the necessity for the administration to follow such a weird time table. It was on experimental basis and it lasted for just that one year. I was slowly coming out of the timid character, and I owe it all to my parents, my teachers and family members. I was slowly getting into the groove. I had very less complaints from the teachers. I was pretty good in studies right from the beginning and would never trouble the teachers or anyone in the house. Things were slowly improving. My parents used to constantly motivate to participate in the extra curricular activities. I used to win a third or a consolation prize here and there.
My brothers joined the same school and within few years we were all shifted to a different campus in Vijaynagar. It was to separate the Central school and State school which were put up in the same campus. Now, we had our own building and our own campus. I was in 6th standard then. My brothers were in 2nd and 1st standard respectively.
It was a barren piece of land with just one huge building standing unprotected. There was no fence or compound. There was a lake right behind my school which was used by the villagers to wash their cattle. I still remember the first time ever I saw my school in the new campus wearing the navy blue pants. Yes, from 6th standard onwards boys were supposed to wear pants and girls, skirts. That actually gave a feeling of grown up person. Things were slowly improving personally from my point of view. Back home, we were grilled by my dadima with reading quran, learning grammar and following the religious texts and also books written by her on Islam. I used to get one or two certificates every year in some or the other competitions. I used to even go to Cricket coaching camp and had turned out to be a decent player; atleast good enough to play with the older ones in the locality. Things suddenly changed in 7th standard. I still fail to understand the reason behind it. I was no longer that shy, quiet school boy. I had changed. That too drastically!!! I bagged 5 prizes that year. Four first prizes and one second prize in essay writing competition. In fact, I had never won a single first prize till then. My marks in tests and exams dropped quite a bit. My interest drifted towards Football from cricket. Remarks by the teachers on the report card included, “very talkative in class” and for the first time I was summoned to the Principal s chamber. I had come out crying as I was very scared. It was the first time I was scolded so badly by any teacher in school.
She was Miss Joyce Lobo; a huge, fat lady with immense control over the happenings in the school. Miss Padma, my kannada teacher had noticed that and had reminded me 2 years later when I had come out laughing from the principal’s chamber and had pointed out how much I had changed. And after that year there was no looking back. My craze towards football increased and participating in the extra curricular activities had become a passion. It was also in that year I had smoked for the first time ever. It was the summer after 7th exams when my cousins had come down from Bangalore for the vacations. We four, Turrab my very good friend who stayed in the house below my grandmothers house in N.R.Mohalla, Faizan and Fawaz, my grandmother’s younger brothers’ eldest sons respectively and myself decided to go to the Mysore Zoo. I actually remember the whole day. Infact , it is one of the few days I remember fully. In the movie “BLUFFMASTER”, Boman Irani asks Abhishek Bachchan, “Tees saal ki zindagi mein tumhe kitne din yaad hain??? Paanch? Dus? Bees? Tees”? How true was that dialogue? I liked it a lot as it is practically so very true. All of us would just remember so many days.
It was in the evening while we were coming back from zoo that this idea of smoking occurred to turrab first. We had spent all the money in the zoo and we did not even have so much money that we could buy bus tickets for the return trip. Just few coins were left, which could not buy us anything. Turrab decided to buy a cigarette along with one peppermint. This idea was supported by Faizan. Fawaz and I being the younger ones of the lot were just mute spectators. They bought the cigarette from a small shop on the footpath, lighted it and we all took the path which trespassed the Government House. It was a vacant site with just one building used for official purposes. We started walking and turrab and faizan were taking turns each to puff the smoke. With much persuasion from those two, Fawaz took a puff and finally my turn came. I took the cigarette in my mouth and as told to me, I inhaled it. The next moment I started coughing and I could smell the cigar smoke in my mouth. I was scared, and also was repenting to what I had done. Thoughts like what my dad would do to me if he comes to know ran across my mind. Those three did comfort me and turrab handed over half the mint candy to me. The three other halves were meant for three of them .I just popped it in my mouth and felt much better.
That was the first and last time I actually put a cigarette in my mouth. That day itself I had promised I would never ever smoke. By god’s grace have kept the promise till date.
3/03/08 Monday 7:10 pm
Madrid Airport
Terminal 1
Finally; I am writing sitting inside the airport. It was always my desire to write sitting here just next to a see-through glass wall gazing at the flights taking off every 3 minutes.
Terminals 2 and 3 are the ones where in the domestic flights which are the connecting flights for the international ones operate. I miss those terminals now because of the cozy sofas they are equipped with for the passengers. There are chairs here, but lying down on a sofa with Coke in one hand and Pringles in the other and gazing through the glass is just a complete different experience.
Madrid airport is the biggest in Europe in terms of land area.
The mountain ranges surrounding it adds on to the beauty. Right now I am waiting to board the Oslo flight. It has been delayed by 50 minutes. So, that gave me enough time to remove my laptop and jot down few things. I will be leaving to Norway for a year.
I doubt in the meantime I will come back here; and the options of just Air France and Lufthansa for my journey back to India during summer rules out the possibility of coming to Madrid Airport.
It was a memorable experience in Spain. I know, now I am deviating from what actually I had to write; but not in a mood to think and write. The journey from Granada to Madrid by bus and then to the Airport with 50 kilo luggage is quite tiring. The heavy luggage makes it more tiring.
Ok… the boarding has started. I got to go.
Don’t know when I will come back to this. But one thing for sure; it would be outside Spain.
