FLASHBACK

आशियाने की तलाश में सड़क की राह पकड़ी थी,

आज इतनी दूर निकल आया हूँ कि सड़क ही आशियाने-सी लगती है।

On 18^th of July 2015, I had embarked on a new journey. After having toiled in the preparation for civil services examination, which did not fetch me the desired results, I joined Campus Law Centre under the Faculty of Law, University of Delhi, to pursue a degree in law—Legum Baccalaureus (LL.B.).

Presently, as I turn back and reminisce, time seems to have, as always, played a bittersweet symphony for me. Getting to meet and know about a lot of new people was one of the perks associated with coming back to the ‘campus life’. I may not say with any sense of conviction how many of them would be desirous of being in touch with me in future, or whether they would cherish the moments, even if fleeting ones, that I had spent with them. Looking from my lenses (I may be at risk of being accused of having a myopic vision), the ‘juice was worth the squeeze’, the moments gained were worth the time invested.

It is very cumbersome, simple though it may seem to be, to ‘define’ what is bliss. I do not claim any extraordinary erudition for myself in this regard. I do, however, recollect a few instances of events, the memories of which I surely will associate with the word ‘bliss’:

• It isn’t everyday that one may get to spend quality time with an old friend. Impromptu conversion of a previously planned 100-kilometre road trip into a 200-kilometre one is a very small input for the aforementioned output.

• Upon evaluation of the returns, a 3-day Delhi–Jammu–Delhi trip doesn’t at all seem to be hectic or tiresome. After all, it is not everyday that you have a C₂H₅OH-induced debate over philosophy, followed by a late night drive to a remote lake area, on the way to which you muse over fictitious ghost stories.

• The numerous birthday celebration events (‘events’ = cutting the cake + posing for photographs) in the college used to serve as beautiful reminders of my childhood birthday-celebration parties, in which my family members used to painstakingly prepare and serve delicacies to my friends and other guests.

• A visit to Delhi Book Fair 2015, the morning exercise sessions on the Lake Park near Brigadier Hoshiyar Singh Marg and the occasional ‘kaju shake’ sessions with friends, visits to Jawaharlal Nehru University campus, a visit to a friend’s Passing-out-Parade ceremony and pipping him on the shoulders, numerous chit-chats and text message exchanges on WhatsApp and Telegram—are all grand memories.

• A solitary 90-kilometre/5-hour bicycle road trip and a Dehradun–Mussoorie–Landour 8-kilometre trek with a friend act as minute reminders that the strength in my body hasn’t veined with the passage of a few years. The memories of my mother’s reaction over the phone upon receiving the news of my bicycle trip—that “you’ve gone half-mad”—and of the alarmingly chilli-chutney served alongwith the plate of momos at a joint in Landour are invigorating instances for the mind.

• Words of encouragement from a childhood friend—“if that mole-rat” (please mark the use of a metaphor for a chap) “could make it to the top of Chandrashila, why can’t we?”—are not heard often, but are to be cherished.

• An unforgettable memory is of my mother’s comment when I reached home after a long and arduous Srinagar Garhwal–Chandrabadni–Srinagar Garhwal hill drive followed by a ‘session’ with a childhood friend on New Year’s eve—that I behaved “like a roadside driver who needs to consume to pacify and relax the senses after a long drive”!

• In certain places of the country, certain miscreants are occupying media space and trying to chart out a political future for themselves by resorting to shenanigans and gimmickry through vague and illogical statements based on dumbfounded concerns. They feel that they ‘need azaadi within the country, and not from it’, even as they simultaneously lead other unsuspecting, but emotionally-belligerent, pawn-like adherents through highly romanticized notions of petition-protest-purge. And all this is done from the comfortable couch of a university campus. But there are other places in the same country where time seems to have come to a still. People are not bothered about sloganeering for unfounded aims; rather, there is a need to ensure survival and fulfilment of basic necessities. The Gonds of Chhattisgarh and the residents of Munsyari (Uttarakhand) seem to be living in their own world of time-dilation. A stay for about 10 days at a Naxalite-infested area in Bijapur district (Chhattisgarh) was an experience of its own kind. Making a feline friend in that location, displaying herpes-induced “Raymond Shirts-styled” real-world advertisements, visiting certain girls’ and boys’ residential schools located in the nearby areas, driving a truck, sharing some lighter moments and playing practical jokes—were some of the many take-aways from that visit. I think [my friend will understand this very well as he reads it] that we surely know ‘how to make enemies and offend people’!

Similarly, a visit to a small pond (Thamrikund) and a late evening bath in a hot-water sulphur spring followed by the unfortunate event of a stolen mobile phone was a cake, the icing on which was put by dirt-biking over dust-and-pebble-strewn sloping road from Munsyari to Madkote and back to Munsyari. In Munsyari, time comes to a halt as people find solace in playing carrom and cards, as also in placing small bets over these games, which do attract a crowd of quite-a-size. All this seems to happen under the supervision of the imperial Panchachuli peaks.

• The memory of pedal-boating on a lake and of teasing a friend to consume ‘duck-roast’ from among the ducks which we were feeding [corn] and fattening is certainly a harbinger of solace. And…how can I fail to mention here?—the almost-Monsoon-Wedding (or rather, a ‘Western Disturbance Wedding’, to be technically-and-meteorologically correct) of a friend.

बयाँ करने को तो बहुत-कुछ है, मगर ये लफ़्ज़ कुछ खफ़ा-से हैं।

हसरत महज़ इतनी है कि वक़्त की रफ़्तार कलम पर भारी न पड़ने पाए!

As I approach the end of this post, I recall a very strange occurrence. About 2 years back, as I boarded a bus back to my home after getting over with my routine evening-run, a stranger broke the ice with me. And oddly enough, he did it straightaway by making a prophesy to me, as if he had known me since a very long time. He said that I will get settled in a career after I turn 27 years of age.

For now, I am 26 and I am waiting to witness the weight in the seemingly soothsayer’s statement. I can only say that I strive to keep my actions in consonance with the motto “अग्रसरत सर्वदा” (Forward Ever).