Frankly, I don't know why I am writing this on my blog, or even writing this at all.
I guess there's a moment in everyone's life when they believe they've got it all - the true love of their life. Some just make it up, some just fake it to themselves, some think the best is it, whereas others actually get it. Out of the last category of people, there are ones who realize it when the moment is much past them. It only leaves them remembering the past, or realizing the one mistake that is never forgiven, or just write about it as I am doing now.
In computer science, there is a classical class of problems where you gotta predict the result without the apriori knowledge of appropriate variables which solve that problem. You can only predict! If you got it right you got it, but if you chose a wrong one you were doomed (note: you get to know it later), or you rejected the correct one you missed it forever, assuming what goes by never comes back. Finding perfect love is nothing but a real life example of such a problem. What 'wise' folks do is play in the field for a while, and get a sense of the game, finally formulating the problem in their own interpretation that consists of all the variables they can solve. Some get it right, many just get a good deal. If that was a software problem I'd do the same. But heck, to my life - no. But I did it anyways, I was a wise man after all.
It was a truth all along, but came to my head only much later - Knowing and being with each different woman I've been with only leads me to find a better soulmate than the present one, only to find something better than my true love - my first love. Sometimes you just eat a delicious pie but you never appreciate its greatness, but you are eating pies all along not finding the taste you want, just because you've already tasted the best one - and now you don't remember the bakery that you had the most delicious pie at. The labour you did in finding that pie you love is lost, that love's labour is lost.
Well that doesn't solve the problem, does it? It is one of the many mysteries that make life beautiful, give us a reason to live a life that has got its own uniqueness just for the unknown. There isn't a formula or an algorithm (sorry my fella dudes at microsoft..but you see there's plenty others out there to be solved :D) to this, its life! You gotta breathe it, you gotta live up to it. The only reason I believe every human has a desire to live is that there's something unique, ideosyncratic about it. You don't know apriori, you just gonna live it and know - Life's beautiful, may be, love's labour wasn't lost, it gave me a reason to live and see it, just that it wasn't the way I first thought it would be.
On every encounter with him, he had greeted me with a big, natural smile. Standing hours in front of the gas stove and frying eggs each day in the hostel mess backyard, even in the unforgiving summers of Patiala, would not take away the politeness from him.
Seldom, had I witnessed such spirit and liveliness in a person, living with the bare minimum. The selfless courstey was quite in contrast to what I would experience each day at TIET. The uneducated pahari from the mountains of Uttaranchal had a lot that I could learn and embrace.
Now, it was the final day at TIET and the way feet moved and people talked in the hostel could tell that easily. I performed my final rites by happily packing and throwing away stuff. The joy of being a free man (apparently) and joining Microsoft soon had pumped my adrenalin, and I could hardly sense things going around me.It was during one of many strolls around the corridors of the hostel that day, that I met the mess wala again, the first time on that last day. Upon greeting me with the obvious smile, he came up and asked if he could help me with transferring the luggage. Without much thought and concern, I told him that my driver had already done so. His eyes were still stuck on me, as if I owed him an answer or an apology or something else. Realizing that that this was my last encounter with the jolly guy, I wanted to compliment his never-say-die smile. However, my stiff usual self with held me from expressing much, so I bade adieu, "achha hai jee, chalte hain". Much opposed to my intution and belief, the guy turned around and walked away with the dry words "achha jee".
His reactions perplexed me and his words reverberated in my head like anything. Probably, there was something obvious that I had missed, or as I said, I was out of my senses. Could it be the tip he had missed by not having handled my luggage, or did I at some point of time not reciprocate enough to his polite behaviour? I frankly felt undignified, having lost the respect that I was accustomed to.
And then, something that came so spontaneously to me was to put my hand in my backpocket and and come up with a 50 buck note which I presented to the mess worker upon finding him next. It had indeed brought the smile back on his face for me, and it persisted till I could see him. But it was different. It was no longer the obvious smile from a jolly man's heart, showing courtesy and his sociable nature, it was the 50 buck smile.
'69 days to go' reads the Countdown chart pegged on one of the four whitewashed walls of my hostel room.
August 16th, 2002 was the date I found TIET and it found me. For the next four years, it would be the place I would live in and learn to make a living. I was supposed to become an engineer during the four years I would spend here. The journey began with finding the allotted roommates at Hostel – C. It did not take long enough and no hesitation indeed to ask for each other’s AI rank and the competitive mood that settled in was to last for the next four years in due course. The next issue to be bothered about was roti, paani aur makaan, for quite obvious reasons that parents said sadda munda pehli bar ghar ton bahar ravega. Again, this botheration was to last for long. Hostel food was later to give us some daily exercise for the brain. Khansama and Chawla would mitigate the concerns to some extent though. The four seater room at Hostel – C had four sets with a cupboard, a chair, a table and a bed each. Interestingly, it had one and only one ceiling fan. It was a Made-in-1956, Crompton Greaves motor which we eventually found could run, opposed to our impression at the first sight that it would fall the moment switched on. On the first night at TIET, we were to realize that all four souls in the room would look for an extra whiff of the air by shifting their beds and moving their heads as much right under the fan as possible. Summers were so hot for the first time in my life! This again, was to continue endlessly, though the number of room partners dwindled as the years went by, the air from the fan was replaced by grades and achievements. Egoism started creeping its way into our lives through the unminded cracks of the system at TIET. That was what my first day at the campus had to offer. Bitter though, but had flavours of reality imbued to it.
Life on a normal day at TIET had been characterized by long hours of lecturing, tutorials and lab work. The monotony of those classes gave a feeling of endless dissatisfaction and at times submission of wish and will to the 75% barrier of attendance. I would spend half of my lectures listening to what the professors had to prove, and the rest in a mix of thinking about my brighter past (school life in particular) and many small events and ideas, none of which remained significant. “Learning by rote makes engineers”, was what mid semesters and exams taught. Moreover, Patiala hadn’t much to offer apart from TIET itself. To remain confined within the walls of this institute was like spending time in a prison, not learning and growing when the beautiful world had so much to offer. Living besides budding engineers 24x7 wasn’t quite acceptable either and hence the next weekend trip to home was the first thing to think on 8 a.m. Monday morning. My love for the Alma Mater had ceased before it came up.
But, on the brighter side, the other wise dull hostel life gave experiences to learn lessons for life. It taught one’s insignificance and significance to the society and humbled many souls like me who had, may be, living in a fool’s paradise till then. The siestas that came on the cost of missing afternoon lectures and labs (workshops in particular) would be something that I’ll always miss.
My personal experience had been that of a maverick. Though, I believe, I have far more professional achievements during these four years than I could ever imagine, but life owed me something more. College days are supposed to be the golden days of one’s life and I spent them in exile.