They Are Coming....

We reached at midnight. Well, 11 o'clock, if you care that much, but anyway. The bus came to a slow and gradual halt, backed & jumped forward, backed again and, basically went on like that for an unnecessary while, as if panting after the winding road here. A loud "Ppsshhhttt!!" from yonder and the doors opened, releasing us into the dark wilderness.

We have been given a room. Three of us in here, well stocked with food supplies and mandatory furniture. Every morning, waking early, we see the sun rise from behind the hills in the distant horizon. The fog lifts gently, up over the thickly set trees. The sun puts the sky in an orange hue, the fog fluffs are white-grey and the trees are a deep, dense green - the scenery is breathtaking. We sit on our beds and look outside at the valley glistening in the morning sun, through our mosquito netted windows.

The day is spent mostly in learning to do our own laundry, maintaining our room and getting to know the new neighbours. We dont go out much. Occasionally, we must step out for gentle exercise and the fresh air. But never too often, or for too long. Outside is their territory. Humanity only reigns till the bounds of our settlement here.

I have heard tales - of horror, of fear, of shock and of awe - from fellow inmates. They are the survivors, the ones who returned. In hushed tones, they tell their stories. Some assume a false bravado, while most speak stoically as if struggling to rein their prevalent emotions. All look of them constantly glance around, fearfully, jumping at sudden noises. Its their eyes that tell the real tales - looking around furtively, as if in a constant attempt to watch everything at once.

As the evening sets in. we descend to our dinner shack below. Meals are all eaten in the false optimism and cheerfulness that a large group ensures. The bravado of boys who would be men now. Its the evenings that are most dangerous. None step out after dark. Perhaps a few in the late morning or the afternoon, but never the evening. This is their time. They prowl outside our settlement in packs, looking for strays from amongst us. They look at us with their glowing eyes, promising encounters soon. Very soon.

The nights are very quiet. We lie down to sleep in safety, but also in constant awareness of what awaits us outside, once classes begin. The distant howls of nocturnal creatures conjoin with their sounds of revelry. The sounds seem more ominous each time, as each day counts down to that day. I can almost see them now, pointing at me. The red eyes. And on those blood-stained lips the cry - "Oi! Freshies!!"

They come. They come.

Crouched Inside A Manipal CyberCafe...

I have reached Manipal. College too shall start in a while. More updates as and when I can.

A cyber cafe isnt a very good place to blog from ya! The keys are very pudgy-pudgy, if you know wat I mean, for one thing. Typing is like on a typewriter.

Secondly, they play Himesh Reshammiya here! I cant take it anymore. I must go, or my ears will fry. Sensitive as they are, I can only tolerate so much of a decibel level.

But soon, I shall have a weapon of my own. They're going to give me a laptop. And WiFi!

Leaving On A Jetplane...

I will leave Kolkata in 2 days now. University beckons. I shall leave by the Saturday morning flight to Bangalore, then on by bus to Manipal.

The last week has been spent in frantically meeting friends. Time has suddenly past by very quickly. It seems just a while back when I knew had 2 weeks in hand. I was calm and collected about the whole deal of going. And then suddenly, here I am with two days. Meeting old friends and new, at different CCDs everyday, bidding goodbyes as nonchalantly and stoically as possible.

Its strange how each last meeting with different sets of friends has been uncannily similar in several aspects. We meet, and some one or the other is always late - once it was me, other times its been the other party. You talk over coffee about utter nonsense. Then its time to leave. Goodbyes are said a little too quickly, and you push off in your direction.

Its only after I move away that I become aware of the parting - that I shan't be meeting that person for a long time now. It makes the return journey very grave. Solemn. I'm morose, so to speak. Head bowed down slightly, I sit crumpled in my shuttle. That's not just because I'm in an off mood. Three others - blessed with supernatural powers of perspiration - sit in with me, spreading noxious fumes and consuming as much seat space as they can scrounge.

I transcend up, up and away from my physical discomfort. My mind involuntarily reflects, on my friends. It goes back to first encounters, meetings since, the phone conversations about absolutely nothing at all, the rendezvous that just ended. A drowsy numbness pains my sense... I permit myself a bodyshake, however much I can manage in my crumpled existence (a co-cheapskate passenger on one side, and the door-handle poking my thighs at the other side) . The odours of my fellow passengers, blending together, combine to make a potent camphor-substitute, bringing me back to life. I grin to myself, the cocky self assurance (that I'm going to be back in circulation here every now and then) comes surging and I feel the bitter taste of caffiene in my mouth, a last reminder of time spent with friends.

I will be gone in two days. Out of my home, out of my city, away from Gautam's Coffee, away from the escalators at Forum, the samosas at Tiwari's, Durga Pujo celebrations, the stone steps of my school building - away from it all.

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go...Damn. There's no one's door to stand outside, when the dawn is breaking in early morn, or a yawning Kolkata taxi-driver waiting at the porch. Lets not even go towards the hugs and kisses due to me.

Goodbye, Kolkata. I shall miss my city. I dont know exactly how much, as yet. But I shall know that very soon too. Tra la.
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Next post from Manipal. It shall come off the new keys of my new laptop, kept neatly on my new study table, in my new dorm room...in my new home.

I Get Knocked Down, But They Prop Me Up Again!

Phata poster*, nikla** hero***!

The ban has been lifted. My blog and I are free. [Well, things look okay from my ISP atleast.]

The Indian Government has released me, once intense scrutiny revealed that the only punching bag on this blog was in the title. And since punching bags do not come strictly under the head of Weapons of Mass Destruction, I dont constitute much of a threat to national security. QED. Practical and smart, thats our government. Doesn't take them too long to wake up.

Aaahh! Feels good to be up and about again.
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*As in, the Government finally realized they were making a fool of themselves, so they sort of dropped the blanket ban by themselves. No real posters were torn in this tomfoolery by the Government.

**I was sleeping while it happened. So didnt exactly niklo from anywhere either.

***Me.

Watcha Gonna Do Now, SIMI? You're Goin' Down!

SIMI activists, the alleged perpetrators behind the Mumbai 7/11 tragedy, like to blog. In their spare time, that is, when they are not making bombs to kill us all with. Now, the Government of India being as it is, cannot of course do a thing to catch them and spank them for their misdeeds. So, we're punishing them the next best way.

Its been decided by the people in power that the best way to get back at SIMI is to take away what they like - their blogging. Hence, a blanket ban has been draped over blogger.com, geocities.com, blogs.com and typepad.com, the most popular blogging sites in India. In your face, Students' Islamic Movement of India!

Now, the thing is this. Government officials maintain that its not a blanket ban, and not all blogs are under the ban order. Its true that we have banned several blogs under the said domain names. Not all. Just the ones that are dangerous. Blogs are a means by which terrorists exchange their vital information nowadays. Because mobile phones, emailing and chatting are all so passe you know - not the 'in' thing. Its a question of national security! In one stroke, we have hit SIMI where it hurts most - their...umm..desire for writing. No! I mean, the foundation of their operations...the base...blogging. We win! (in chorus) We win! We win! Yay!

Obviously, this has raised an outcry across the nation. Curtailing freedom of speech and what not. You can read about it here, here and here. I won't repeat their words.

Personally, I feel a quiet exhilaration. A sort of warmth glowing in my body. My head also feels a little light, now that I think about it. No no, not a fever. Really, its not that. Its just.....hmm...threat to national security. My blog too. Me. Threat to national security. I. Wow!

In my so far wasted existence, I've been many things - outstanding student, average student, backbencher, wimp, hero, amateur sportsman, maker of excellent chaats and the occasional Maggi. But never have I been a threat to national security. Threat to my best friend's birthday cake before he has even cut it - yes maybe I've been that. But national security? Definitely no.

This is an epoch in my life. I am born again - renewed, afresh, straight to 18 yrs of age of course, but you get the gist. When I walk down the building, roam the streets, eat puchka at the roadside, I do so with a quiet confidence. I look around me and I see ordinary harmless people going about their lives. I smirk at them. They don't know I'm a threat to them.

I glare at little kids playing around. And they glare back. Some of them come from behind and kick me. I dont say anything. I get back up, laugh lightly and walk on, forgiving their ignorance. They don't know how dangerous I really am.

Soon, the Indian Government will grow up. They will learn that perhaps the best way to curb terrorism is to catch the terrorists, rather than to take away their soft toys. They may also realize that there are other ways to communicate large amounts of information to a large number of people - things such as email and telephones come to mind. And the ban shall be lifted.

My blog shall be normally accessible again. I will be free to go. One with the rest again. But the memory will last. I won't forget. I will remind myself, in my dark moods of low self esteem, or when the neighborhood kids hit me from the back, damn them. I was once a threat. They had to chain me down. They had to restrain me. I was banned once.