In Sam'sVoice!
It was one of hot and irritating afternoons during my 5th sem exams. Me and Sujith were studying together for the first time. Our everyday schedule was to wake up at 10, have breakfast, come online and chat and scrap till 1, get out of the room, Take shower, read Bangalore times, watch tv till 3, have lunch, sleep till 5, Go out to Buttry and hang up with friends for a smoke and at 7, get back to home and get books and go to Sumith’s home and start to study at 8. Break for dinner at 10 or 11, plan to study for full night but would not study.
That day, Sujith had to attend his cousin’s wedding. So nobody was there in his house. I collected his house key from the buttry and went to his house. I kept watching tv until he returned. He came at 8:30 in the night and he was already stoned. He had packed us food from the wedding. We happily ate it and started to study. Sumith always insist that if you smoke up and study, you’ll remember many things from the book. I never believed in his theory. He lit the first joint and kept releasing smoke in circular shapes. In some instinct he proposed we drink and we got drunk in the next half an hour. I couldn’t study anymore. I dozed off on the bean bag and he on the bed.
I made a promise to him that I’ll wake up at 3 and wake him also up and we shall resume studying. I was not too sure that I’ll wake up. But I woke up at 3 still feeling high. I suddenly felt thirsty and went to kitchen. I knew the last time I switched on the light, the bulb had burst. Feeling guilty for bursting the bulb, I went to the dining room, struggled to climb the dining table and got the bulb from the socket. I brought it to the kitchen and again I had to struggle to get on to the platform next to the stove.
I have visited Sujith’s place a thousand times and I have even cooked on that stove but never before I had noticed there is a window right in front of the stove. It was too windy and I felt chills in my spine. I took a peering view of the whole city from the window. The flat was in 14th floor. I fixed the bulb and got down and tried to see in the window again. I noticed there was a woman. She didn’t look like any ghost. She was a plain woman with hands and legs in the front. She didn’t look like she was trying to scare me. She was just too calm and simple as if she was curious to know how her boy friend’s kitchen looked like or how would he look like in track pants.
I cleared my head and eyes and tried to take another clear look. She was still there cupping her hands around her eyes to see through the windows. I saw kept staring into her eyes. They were beautiful and pitch black. She had a cool radiance. She was probably trying to tell me it was cold outside. I kept seeing into her eyes and I was lost!
The next moment, as if I woke up from deep sleep, I swung into conscious but I was still standing in front of the window. I saw in the window. There was nobody. That moment I knew I am going to screw the next day’s exam.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Loop Stories 1
In Rohith’s voice
At 11 in the night we decided to visit our good old place – Crocodile Lake. The real name for crocodile lake is mallammanahalli kere. When you take left deviation from Kanakapura road at thalagatta pura and ride 6 km, you’ll find this vast lake. It is believed to be haunted or at least jinxed. First time when we went there it was too blood tingling. Only a while after, we got so used to it that we even knew the pits and humps on the mud road.
We left at the midnight collecting our quota of booze and stuff from Krishna bar and when we hit the mud road on the left deviation, it was around 1 AM. We reached the spot and drank and smoked up. It was a beautiful night. Sitting in the cold night by the side of the lake, watching the waters evaporate, Sky full of stars, girl friend, friends, booze and stuff- All made it worth living life for. It made perfect sense that we live to see the miracles happen and I had seen one that night.
As usual- we were high and we decided to return at 3:00 AM. We were 8 men and 3 girls on 3 bikes and a car. Me and my girl friend left late from the lake. The mud road is all bushy. In between there is a thick forest for 3 km and its really scary with tall trees in pin drop silence. Once you enter the forest, it’s totally dark and you would not get to see the sky. That night mild rustling of the leaves was the only sound heard in the whole world. I was riding by my instincts and I happened to hear a new sound. It was like a bell on the cow’s neck. My girl friend also heard it next moment and we turned left to see what it was. To our bewilderment, we saw a small girl-like creature toddling on the hard ground. I saw my girlfriend’s face and she was all scarlet. We both froze that moment. She gestured to hurry. When we reached the main road, we told what we saw to our friends and by then my girl was calm and she started to speak. “Guys Dontya worry. Weh are al high and expected to see things like thyat. Place’s jinxed man…” She was drunk but had not smoked up. She wasn’t really high.
On the main road, all girls got into the car and all guys on the bikes. I always make sure the girls come by car because the cops won’t get them if they are in the car. When guys meet there is automatically a rally. I clutched down the bike and de-geared. The bike hopped once and I led the rally. After racing for 10 km. there is a steep left turn and there are a no. of hoardings on both sides of the curve ranging from ground level- stone size to crane size. Involuntarily I read a few boards and crossed them.
At a small village, I stopped at our usual Lakshmi garage for a smoke and to wait for the others to join. Unusually they joined late and they said they saw a real ghost (?) somewhere.
“Dude, Dude.. didntya see? I saw one man.. man he was like.. like.. wearing all white shirt… like they show in the ujala add dude.. and khaki pants.. He was on the left…dude.. Behind that SVIT board.. His face was… fuck.. fuck.... whatdya say..? Like some weird. Fuck man he was… His tongue was outside his mouth and havinga big knife in his hand… and he looked scary man…He ran to the middle of the road…. As if he wants ta hold us…fuck dude..”
“Watda fuck? Where did ya him dude?”
“Near that ashram cross man… he was real fuck… like the real ghost…ah”
“hey…. lets go and see him man? I want to see him too...comah…?”
“Yo crazy???”
“Lets go dude…”
We started back from there and in two minutes we encountered the car in which my other friends were coming. Even before they could ask why we were heading back, they had a story to tell us. Neha spoke first.
“Guys guys.. Ya know wat uh…? We saw a ghost there near the hoardings…”
“It was like a man….he.. he was holding a big knife.”
“raellyy…??” Guys in my gang were trying to hide their laugh.
“ya man.. He was like all fucked up…Like as if he was trying to get hold of someone”
“how did he look like?”
“He was like…. Like his face was all black. Hmmm…. He wore white shirt.. hmm ya. That shirt was like too bright…. Hmm like its some kinda having tube lights inside”
“and no pants..?”
“I didn’t see… hmmm we didn’t see..”
“and his teeth, tongue hairs… were all creepy.. He looked too ghost like.. fuck that fellow”
“hey but you said he was standing on the right side” I turned to my old guys.
“Ya man he was on the right side.. I saw him first.”
“But these people say he was standing on the left behind the SVIT board.”
“that’s what I told ya dude. Seee.. he is real. I told ya. When we saw him, he was behind the board and he tried to kill us. But he cad not get us. He must’ve crossed the road and waited on the left side.. you are thinking we are high and’ve mistaken some object on the road right ah…??”
“No dude.. I didn’t think that way… okie comah.. lets go and check out?”
We went back to the curve. There was nothing. Nothing at all. We searched for the knife. There was none. We shouted for him. He didn’t return. We begged him to come out. No response.. We pelt stones to the boards. Nothing happened. I felt disappointed. We went home and slept for the next day.
I met my friends in the evening at barista. I had not remembered anything for the whole of last night. They recited the entire story to me. I wondered how naturally we were group-hypnotized: for some of my friends had seen the man with the white shirt on the right side and rest had seen him – the same man with the white shirt and the knife on the left side of the road.
Can this happen to anyone??
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Sick (Verb) and Leave
On one of the super duper bench days, our manager was sponsoring a small party at the outskirts of the city for 15 of his favorite subordinates and I was one of them. He had got married and that was the cause for the expensive partying. Like all the Punjabi women, his wife was pretty and extremely sweet. We had all the three meals of the day together. All men drank and women partied and danced. When we were dropped to our houses by our manager at 10:00 PM we were dead tired. I went and threw my bag and buried myself in the bed.
After half an hour of deep sleep, I realized I had two missed calls- one from mom and other from a close friend. I called mom and to my shock, I had promised to visit my cousin’s wedding the next day which I had brutally forgotten. The wedding was in a different city. It would take 3 to 4 hrs to reach there which meant I had to start at 5:30 in the morning to reach there on time. Feeling sick as a dog, I called the other number – a friend whom I told I had to take sick leave but without reason. We started debating the points that could reason enough to grant me sick leave without much questioning by my manager with whom I had caroused for the whole day. I being sick was definitely not a good reason. I was not even drunk to let him think I was hung over.
So we decided to let someone die. First we thought we will let one of the uncles die and I would attend his funeral. My friend suggested the reason is common enough not to believe it. So he suggested we shall let someone commit suicide. We thought fast to makeup a story.
We thought about the names of the victims. The name should be a familiar one like Arun.. Sagar etc. We settled for Sagar. Then the motive for the suicide. My friend suggested, one sagar was writing his notes and he didn’t have ink in his pen, so he got frustrated and committed suicide. Or he was riding his bike on Chamundi hills and he ran out of fuel and felt the best way to reach the petrol bunk was to jump from there.
In the next round he suggested, one Prabhakar was walking on the road and a buffalo hit him from the back and he and the buffalo both died on spot. He said if my manager asks me who Prabhakar, I should tell its Tiger Prabhakar. Sad of Tiger Prabhakar, He died of a road accident with a buffalo.
Then we thought of the Munnabhai reasons like my cousin had lymphosarcoma of the intestine and died. None worked. So we decided we will stick to my unknown uncle die of some cancer. I felt that was best because the next day when I go to office again I dodn’t have to mourn much as death with cancer-ed people is much expected than any teen cousin dying in the road accident.
When we finished finding the reason for sick leave, I was way too tired and I was speaking as if in dreams. My friend made me recite the lie that I would tell in the morning. I made my attempt like this:
My cousin’s suffering from lymphosarcoma of the intestine and he tries to write his biography in a diary but finds there is no ink in his pen so goes out to get ink. On the way to the shop on chamundi hills he finds his bike running out of fuel and jumps in to the air where he meets Tiger Prabhakar. He gets seriously injured and is admitted to the hospital. Hearing this, his father gets a heart attack and dies. And so I am attending the funeral of the father and not the son.
After half an hour of deep sleep, I realized I had two missed calls- one from mom and other from a close friend. I called mom and to my shock, I had promised to visit my cousin’s wedding the next day which I had brutally forgotten. The wedding was in a different city. It would take 3 to 4 hrs to reach there which meant I had to start at 5:30 in the morning to reach there on time. Feeling sick as a dog, I called the other number – a friend whom I told I had to take sick leave but without reason. We started debating the points that could reason enough to grant me sick leave without much questioning by my manager with whom I had caroused for the whole day. I being sick was definitely not a good reason. I was not even drunk to let him think I was hung over.
So we decided to let someone die. First we thought we will let one of the uncles die and I would attend his funeral. My friend suggested the reason is common enough not to believe it. So he suggested we shall let someone commit suicide. We thought fast to makeup a story.
We thought about the names of the victims. The name should be a familiar one like Arun.. Sagar etc. We settled for Sagar. Then the motive for the suicide. My friend suggested, one sagar was writing his notes and he didn’t have ink in his pen, so he got frustrated and committed suicide. Or he was riding his bike on Chamundi hills and he ran out of fuel and felt the best way to reach the petrol bunk was to jump from there.
In the next round he suggested, one Prabhakar was walking on the road and a buffalo hit him from the back and he and the buffalo both died on spot. He said if my manager asks me who Prabhakar, I should tell its Tiger Prabhakar. Sad of Tiger Prabhakar, He died of a road accident with a buffalo.
Then we thought of the Munnabhai reasons like my cousin had lymphosarcoma of the intestine and died. None worked. So we decided we will stick to my unknown uncle die of some cancer. I felt that was best because the next day when I go to office again I dodn’t have to mourn much as death with cancer-ed people is much expected than any teen cousin dying in the road accident.
When we finished finding the reason for sick leave, I was way too tired and I was speaking as if in dreams. My friend made me recite the lie that I would tell in the morning. I made my attempt like this:
My cousin’s suffering from lymphosarcoma of the intestine and he tries to write his biography in a diary but finds there is no ink in his pen so goes out to get ink. On the way to the shop on chamundi hills he finds his bike running out of fuel and jumps in to the air where he meets Tiger Prabhakar. He gets seriously injured and is admitted to the hospital. Hearing this, his father gets a heart attack and dies. And so I am attending the funeral of the father and not the son.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Things undone… Words Unsaid…..
There are people being with whom you grow up... Learn lessons and evolve. When you are learning those important lessons, you’ll never realize that they are worth and useful and hence you’ll never thank them enough for fueling your learning process.
Letters to Pari -1
Your eyes were the best. I had admired you and loved you. I always saw you as my role model. I accepted you to lead me the very first day I met you. I saw all the qualities I possessed in you - in more reformed versions and all the other qualities I yearned to have in me. Being with you, I learned to dream. You thought me to set goals and work for it. You thought me to set goals for others too. Importantly I learnt discipline being with you and Sindhu. Though I would’ve learnt all these on my own, I wouldn’t have had that level of perfection of doing them. In my hard times, I used think how Pari would react and tried doing the same things you would do to deal with the problems. Together we were a lot of girl power in the college.
A hundred exams we wrote together and scored 100s… but even in those 100s, I felt your 100 was more perfect than mine. I wasn’t jealous when you topped and I stood second in the board exams. I was too happy that we both bet our common enemy- Shilpa. My respect for you grew as you lead me, topped exam after exams. I hadn’t even once thought I could beat you. I didn’t want to beat you anyway. I owed you too much which I couldn’t repay and so I didn’t want to THANK YOU. That was the first word that now I so much feel like I should’ve told you. To do that I would have to quantify things and put them in to words and with a little bit of struggling I would’ve told you. If I had told you that, I wouldn’t have dragged things this far. It would’ve been the end. But.... I didn’t.
Then when we joined different colleges in different cities I had missed you big time. I used to name a thing as Pari and talk to it timelessly like an insane person. I read a book by name Roopa Darshi in which an artist sees a small beautiful child. He makes a painting of him that would have all the innocence in the world on that child’s face. For years that child’s face would become the artist’s inspiration to do many beautiful paintings. When the artist gets old, he tries to find the child and when he finally finds him, he realizes that the child has grown up in to an evil. I related this to much of me that I used to think that though you are my inspiration to live, when I find you again I would find the old sweet friend of me in you.
I did find you. But by then I had learnt that you had cheated me, lied to me almost the time when I used to think its your love and care that’s holding me close to you. Even in those lies, you were elegant and you had convinced me that you can never lie. That day when I realized that I was cheated, I so much wanted to say @#$% OFF. I didn’t…. If I had, then it would’ve been over and I would’ve forgotten things and given time, I would’ve forgiven you too… But I didn’t….
Though I didn’t tell you that, its effect was well felt and now when I meet you on the roadside, I see not the poise that had driven me towards you but guilt. After all these years of growing up, I want to say you SORRY.... But....
We have made a lot of things complex. Let’s talk please….
Letters to Pari -1
Your eyes were the best. I had admired you and loved you. I always saw you as my role model. I accepted you to lead me the very first day I met you. I saw all the qualities I possessed in you - in more reformed versions and all the other qualities I yearned to have in me. Being with you, I learned to dream. You thought me to set goals and work for it. You thought me to set goals for others too. Importantly I learnt discipline being with you and Sindhu. Though I would’ve learnt all these on my own, I wouldn’t have had that level of perfection of doing them. In my hard times, I used think how Pari would react and tried doing the same things you would do to deal with the problems. Together we were a lot of girl power in the college.
A hundred exams we wrote together and scored 100s… but even in those 100s, I felt your 100 was more perfect than mine. I wasn’t jealous when you topped and I stood second in the board exams. I was too happy that we both bet our common enemy- Shilpa. My respect for you grew as you lead me, topped exam after exams. I hadn’t even once thought I could beat you. I didn’t want to beat you anyway. I owed you too much which I couldn’t repay and so I didn’t want to THANK YOU. That was the first word that now I so much feel like I should’ve told you. To do that I would have to quantify things and put them in to words and with a little bit of struggling I would’ve told you. If I had told you that, I wouldn’t have dragged things this far. It would’ve been the end. But.... I didn’t.
Then when we joined different colleges in different cities I had missed you big time. I used to name a thing as Pari and talk to it timelessly like an insane person. I read a book by name Roopa Darshi in which an artist sees a small beautiful child. He makes a painting of him that would have all the innocence in the world on that child’s face. For years that child’s face would become the artist’s inspiration to do many beautiful paintings. When the artist gets old, he tries to find the child and when he finally finds him, he realizes that the child has grown up in to an evil. I related this to much of me that I used to think that though you are my inspiration to live, when I find you again I would find the old sweet friend of me in you.
I did find you. But by then I had learnt that you had cheated me, lied to me almost the time when I used to think its your love and care that’s holding me close to you. Even in those lies, you were elegant and you had convinced me that you can never lie. That day when I realized that I was cheated, I so much wanted to say @#$% OFF. I didn’t…. If I had, then it would’ve been over and I would’ve forgotten things and given time, I would’ve forgiven you too… But I didn’t….
Though I didn’t tell you that, its effect was well felt and now when I meet you on the roadside, I see not the poise that had driven me towards you but guilt. After all these years of growing up, I want to say you SORRY.... But....
We have made a lot of things complex. Let’s talk please….
Monday, October 12, 2009
Picture Perfect
Some moments are meant to be cherished for life time. My friend Deepa’s picture perfect story goes like this:
It was in the evening when we landed on the KanyaKumari beach and the sun was sinking in to the blue sea. In the bus only I was day dreaming about you - that one day in the cool breeze of the setting sun, we both would walk on the sands of the lonely beach, hand in hand. I had imagined all the possible assurance and love in the firmness with which you held my hand. I knew things were beautiful in dreams and at that moment I loved to dream about you forever and forever.
As these thoughts elapsed in my mind, a gleam in my eye was stuck and everybody in the bus gave me a second look as if they recognized that I am possessing super natural energy... Well that’s the thing called Love.
I was deeply in love with you and I was floating in the air - every second as I imagined the good things that we would do together. It gave me unquantifiable pleasures that were unknown to me all my life.
Only one month previous to this I was told about you, that you were one of the highly successful software engineer sons of my wealthy uncles and that you were very good at academics and all that. All my relatives were gaga about you that you had come back after 3 years of software solitude in Americas. All of my cousins wanted to associate themselves with you. Long before you came to India, you were famous.
When I first saw you in our tour to kanyakumari and other places down south, my heart skipped a beat and my mouth was squarely open for more than a second in the process of trying to believe what’s just been seen with my eyes. You were the most charismatic person I had ever seen in my life. In all the day-dreams of mine after that, it was your eyes that were the sources of light (both physical and philosophical light I mean).
In the bus journey, you had noticed that I was starting to like you. How much I wished that you noticed. You had deeply analyzed the long and hideous stares exchanged between us, moments of more than often smiling, moments of over reacting when you were near.. etc...
And I knew that you were analyzing, - taking time to understand what exactly is happening in my head and – heart. You had reacted very casually, or matured-ly I must say. You never let anyone know that there were some powerful transactions running between our eyes. Helping to this was your ‘not so social’ and shy conversating skills. You spoke less to everyone and that’s what attracted me the most. But later in the same bus drive, when you really starting speaking to me, not with the eyes but with the words, I started getting scared that you might lose the appeal as ‘the wanted one’ by me. Well… my fear was only short lived as you made it ease with me and my first cousins with humble and friendly words.. At that time also I felt that its your eyes that did the most part of conversation with me.
When we stepped in to the ocean water at kanya kumari, the waters were violent but I always wished to stand facing the torrent waters of the sea. I was standing in water till knee height and you came and held my hand. I was shocked when I realized that it was you who held my hand. You asked me whether I wanted to go further and stand in the way of high waves as if that was your idea too. We went further bravely holding hand in hand. Your fingers were leaner than mine but very firm. When the water reached to our abdomens, you looked straight in to my eyes and said some thing..
Chethan: You love me?
Me: (Shocked for the second time) I think Yes! (I shrugged hesitantly)
Chethan: I think so too! (A little sigh)
Me: What? You think I love you ? (Thinking more on practical terms)
Chethan: No.. I think I love you too…(A small laugh)
Hmm that’s my story. My perfect moment of life...4 years ago. I am getting married to Chethan in the next month.
It was in the evening when we landed on the KanyaKumari beach and the sun was sinking in to the blue sea. In the bus only I was day dreaming about you - that one day in the cool breeze of the setting sun, we both would walk on the sands of the lonely beach, hand in hand. I had imagined all the possible assurance and love in the firmness with which you held my hand. I knew things were beautiful in dreams and at that moment I loved to dream about you forever and forever.
As these thoughts elapsed in my mind, a gleam in my eye was stuck and everybody in the bus gave me a second look as if they recognized that I am possessing super natural energy... Well that’s the thing called Love.
I was deeply in love with you and I was floating in the air - every second as I imagined the good things that we would do together. It gave me unquantifiable pleasures that were unknown to me all my life.
Only one month previous to this I was told about you, that you were one of the highly successful software engineer sons of my wealthy uncles and that you were very good at academics and all that. All my relatives were gaga about you that you had come back after 3 years of software solitude in Americas. All of my cousins wanted to associate themselves with you. Long before you came to India, you were famous.
When I first saw you in our tour to kanyakumari and other places down south, my heart skipped a beat and my mouth was squarely open for more than a second in the process of trying to believe what’s just been seen with my eyes. You were the most charismatic person I had ever seen in my life. In all the day-dreams of mine after that, it was your eyes that were the sources of light (both physical and philosophical light I mean).
In the bus journey, you had noticed that I was starting to like you. How much I wished that you noticed. You had deeply analyzed the long and hideous stares exchanged between us, moments of more than often smiling, moments of over reacting when you were near.. etc...
And I knew that you were analyzing, - taking time to understand what exactly is happening in my head and – heart. You had reacted very casually, or matured-ly I must say. You never let anyone know that there were some powerful transactions running between our eyes. Helping to this was your ‘not so social’ and shy conversating skills. You spoke less to everyone and that’s what attracted me the most. But later in the same bus drive, when you really starting speaking to me, not with the eyes but with the words, I started getting scared that you might lose the appeal as ‘the wanted one’ by me. Well… my fear was only short lived as you made it ease with me and my first cousins with humble and friendly words.. At that time also I felt that its your eyes that did the most part of conversation with me.
When we stepped in to the ocean water at kanya kumari, the waters were violent but I always wished to stand facing the torrent waters of the sea. I was standing in water till knee height and you came and held my hand. I was shocked when I realized that it was you who held my hand. You asked me whether I wanted to go further and stand in the way of high waves as if that was your idea too. We went further bravely holding hand in hand. Your fingers were leaner than mine but very firm. When the water reached to our abdomens, you looked straight in to my eyes and said some thing..
Chethan: You love me?
Me: (Shocked for the second time) I think Yes! (I shrugged hesitantly)
Chethan: I think so too! (A little sigh)
Me: What? You think I love you ? (Thinking more on practical terms)
Chethan: No.. I think I love you too…(A small laugh)
Hmm that’s my story. My perfect moment of life...4 years ago. I am getting married to Chethan in the next month.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Glad to be Alive!
We had arrived at my uncle’s home at Hyderabad on Friday evening and our bus was scheduled at 7 in the evening. We had coffee and left soon. We caught the bus and started our supposed to be happy and comfortable journey from Hyderabad to Bangalore.At 9 o clock, the bus stopped for the dinner at the Lakshmi narayana Bhavan and we all happily had our night meal. That time we heard that the Karnool Bridge has been flooded and we can’t go ahead as there is 6 ft water running on the bridge. The driver was worried. We saw some buses and trucks running in the same road so we thought we can also head forward. It was 11:30 in the night when the traffic came to a close. There was a police man standing near a truck and he instructed us to park the bus on the side of the road and wait till next day morning to see if the water on the bridge descends so that we can use the bridge to cross the Krishna River.
It was drizzling all the way when we were preparing ourselves to spend the night on the road. We thought to have a little walk and find out how serious is the waters on the bridge. So we left the bus and started walking in the chilling cold and rain. There was an abandoned lorry locked at the center of the bridge. The water level was till its tires. There was a tea shop and a temple engulfed with water at the outer edge of the bridge.
A few police men were around the river directing trucks to go back if the river level rose. They didn’t allow us to even touch the flowing water as the currents were too fierce. We took some pics of the police and the long standing trucks and other vehicles and walked back to the bus when it rained heavily and we fully got drenched in the rain. The bus was full soggy. It was around 4 km from the bus to the bridge in the night. We came back to the bus and slept hopefully that the water would descend. A few tv channel vans hurried in to cover the news of raising waters on the bridge.
I was deep asleep when a rescue operator came in to the bus and woke us up by hitting the window next to me. I woke up shocked. He handed me a bottle of mineral water and some biscuits. I was fully awake when he got down from the bus handing over same pockets to everyone. We saw a bus full of police reaching us and ordering immediate evacuation of the village – Rangapura where we had parked our bus. The villagers knew that the crest gates of Almatti dam had been put open in the night and that the water flow would increase further and they found it reasonable to evacuate themselves from their houses (Homes) to a nearby town – Jedcharla. Soon the villagers started with the evacuation of cattle and other livestock. There was no power in the village for nearly 6 hrs and hence no tv and no phone. As it rained all most of the time, there was no news paper to know about the news. We knew we were trapped. But they kept saying that the river would recede and we still could cross the river on the bridge. The night before that it took us 4 km to reach the actual bridge and the water but when I had woken up that day, I was able to see water – just 2 km away from us. The river had risen. The lorry which had water till its tire level on the bridge was only visible with its upper wedge and the temple and the tea shops were drowned without trace.
At 10:00 AM the first Red Cross van approached us to monitor the medical health conditions of those who were trapped. As we were all physically fit, it didn’t matter to us much. There was a village in the course of the river where there was a small hill and when the waters started to flow in huge volumes, the people sought shelter of the hill. So when their village was fully flooded, the people on the hill had to be air lifted and any communication with them was through helicopter. The first rescue - army helicopter reached the spot at 11:30 and started distributing the food pockets to those people on the hill.
We had passed the breakfast time and we were too hungry. My mother gave us two biscuits each and said that’s our breakfast. By then there were a number of rescue operators on the road distributing biscuits, plain water and food pockets. My phone had expired on the night before and only ray of hope was my father’s phone in connection with my brother.
We waited till night in the hope that the bridge will be available for us to cross the river. In the mean time we learnt that the Riachur Bridge had collapsed thereby closing one of the vital links between Hyderabad and Bangalore. The day before that the Srisailam bridge had been shredded too. So we had only two other ways. Back to Hyderabad – Vijaywada – Guntur – Nellore – naidupeta – Tirupathi – Bangalore or Hyderbad – Cudappah – Hindupur – Bangalore. The driver was too confused about the routes and he found out that both the roads have been water clogged and so we had to wait till the rain stops to proceed any further. At 10 in the night, the army official confirmed that the water on the Karnool Bridge seems not receding and waiting there would be in vein.
To reach to Bangalore, we had to - had to cross the Krishna River unless we went round about at Mahabaleshwar where the river takes birth. All the bridges on its way from Mahabaleshwar to the sea were either broken or water clogged. But the only exception was the bridge in the middle of Vijaywada city. I had loved that bridge and the crest gates of the dam. I had seen earlier the water being released from those gates - I only hoped that the bridge be strong enough for us to cross the river.
We spent the night near Karnool on the road and at 5 in the morning we started our journey from Karnool to Hyderabad. From Hyderabad, We went to Kammam as Hyderabad – Vijaywada road was water clogged. Finally when we reached Vijaywada, it was 4 in the afternoon. Only when I saw Vijaywada bus stand, I thought we are going to make it to home. Vijaywada is special to me in many ways. I always had loved the city. I knew a lot of places and we had my father’s guest house. So we decided if we cannot cross the bridge, we would stay in that guest house. But soon we found the bus to Bangalore that left at 5 in the evening. The next day at 11, I was at office only glad to be alive with biscuits for more than 60hrs.
At 10:00 AM the first Red Cross van approached us to monitor the medical health conditions of those who were trapped. As we were all physically fit, it didn’t matter to us much. There was a village in the course of the river where there was a small hill and when the waters started to flow in huge volumes, the people sought shelter of the hill. So when their village was fully flooded, the people on the hill had to be air lifted and any communication with them was through helicopter. The first rescue - army helicopter reached the spot at 11:30 and started distributing the food pockets to those people on the hill.
We had passed the breakfast time and we were too hungry. My mother gave us two biscuits each and said that’s our breakfast. By then there were a number of rescue operators on the road distributing biscuits, plain water and food pockets. My phone had expired on the night before and only ray of hope was my father’s phone in connection with my brother.
We waited till night in the hope that the bridge will be available for us to cross the river. In the mean time we learnt that the Riachur Bridge had collapsed thereby closing one of the vital links between Hyderabad and Bangalore. The day before that the Srisailam bridge had been shredded too. So we had only two other ways. Back to Hyderabad – Vijaywada – Guntur – Nellore – naidupeta – Tirupathi – Bangalore or Hyderbad – Cudappah – Hindupur – Bangalore. The driver was too confused about the routes and he found out that both the roads have been water clogged and so we had to wait till the rain stops to proceed any further. At 10 in the night, the army official confirmed that the water on the Karnool Bridge seems not receding and waiting there would be in vein.
To reach to Bangalore, we had to - had to cross the Krishna River unless we went round about at Mahabaleshwar where the river takes birth. All the bridges on its way from Mahabaleshwar to the sea were either broken or water clogged. But the only exception was the bridge in the middle of Vijaywada city. I had loved that bridge and the crest gates of the dam. I had seen earlier the water being released from those gates - I only hoped that the bridge be strong enough for us to cross the river.
We spent the night near Karnool on the road and at 5 in the morning we started our journey from Karnool to Hyderabad. From Hyderabad, We went to Kammam as Hyderabad – Vijaywada road was water clogged. Finally when we reached Vijaywada, it was 4 in the afternoon. Only when I saw Vijaywada bus stand, I thought we are going to make it to home. Vijaywada is special to me in many ways. I always had loved the city. I knew a lot of places and we had my father’s guest house. So we decided if we cannot cross the bridge, we would stay in that guest house. But soon we found the bus to Bangalore that left at 5 in the evening. The next day at 11, I was at office only glad to be alive with biscuits for more than 60hrs.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Six Years Ago
6th October 2003
Six years back I was in those first few days of BMSCE. It was a whole new world- A world of abysmal despair, a world of severe homesickness, a world of million opportunities, a world of limitless hope, and a world of infinite possibilities. When I got the first call on my uncle’s landline from Dilip it was too early in the morning. My uncle and aunt didn’t know anything about it. As they were all sleeping I spoke quietly and went back to sleep. The second was from Kavyashree and by then aunt knew that it was in fact my birthday.
Later I got ready wearing the new ill fitting dress to college and in college nobody knew that it’s my birthday. All the previous years I had blissful times on birthdays and on that day there was not even word spoken about it. It felt suicidal and I cried a lot. That was the first day when I started really feeling the ‘Away from home’ blues. All the Earlier times I had ignored and denied the homesickness in me. But that day when the rain swept my tears on the road near Ramakrishna Ashram, I understood what it meant. It was a sickening feeling and I was dreaded.
Day by day, as I started spending time with the new found friends, the despair and anxiety in me were replaced with fun and laughter. I never realized how those six years went by in just two minutes.
Six years back I was in those first few days of BMSCE. It was a whole new world- A world of abysmal despair, a world of severe homesickness, a world of million opportunities, a world of limitless hope, and a world of infinite possibilities. When I got the first call on my uncle’s landline from Dilip it was too early in the morning. My uncle and aunt didn’t know anything about it. As they were all sleeping I spoke quietly and went back to sleep. The second was from Kavyashree and by then aunt knew that it was in fact my birthday.
Later I got ready wearing the new ill fitting dress to college and in college nobody knew that it’s my birthday. All the previous years I had blissful times on birthdays and on that day there was not even word spoken about it. It felt suicidal and I cried a lot. That was the first day when I started really feeling the ‘Away from home’ blues. All the Earlier times I had ignored and denied the homesickness in me. But that day when the rain swept my tears on the road near Ramakrishna Ashram, I understood what it meant. It was a sickening feeling and I was dreaded.
Day by day, as I started spending time with the new found friends, the despair and anxiety in me were replaced with fun and laughter. I never realized how those six years went by in just two minutes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
