Das, our friend

I was talking to a friend the other day and he said something very interesting -“some friends are forever and some come for a season”

Das probably came for a quarter of a season.

There was a time in Pune, when I was waiting for my MBA admission and had nothing to do, so I took up a filler job at Aptech as a counselor. It was a branch office and thus a very small establishment with just a handful of staff including, Das who was the office boy. Well, boy would be a misrepresentation since he was married with a 3 year old daughter.

Since it was a pastime job, seriousness had not set in me. In fact all of us working there were young and doing this as a stop gap arrangement.

The center was recently established and IT as an indstry was going through a slowdown, so we didn’t get too many students and had plenty of time to ourselves. We used to have a gala time exchanging stories and experiences during lunch time and tea time.

That’s when Das’s skills as a story teller would surface and he would enthrall us with his various past experiences including one as a movie theater projectionist. He had a very animated face and did an excellent job of imitating people that had us in splits.

One of my fondest memory of the place is, the whole gang sipping on chai and eating Parle G biscuits while listening to Das narating an exciting story.

Though he was an office boy, he was extremely intelligent. In fact, he learned MS office just by listening to the lectures we conducted for our students and practicing in the lab. He spoke reasonably good English and loved going out. He would always turn up in the flashiest of clothes for any outing we had. He was all for fun and adventure.

Soon I moved out of Aptech and so did most of the gang, we tried keeping in touch via emails and phone calls (this was before Facebook took over the cyber space) but it’s not always that easy and soon drifted apart.

But thanks to a friend’s initiative of reconnecting, we got back in touch and that's when I came to know that Das had passed away a year ago. He was dancing in some Ganesh procession, got a heart attack and died.

Just like that.

Sometimes I feel sad that none of us were there at his funeral or with his family in their grief. But then, I console myself with the thought that the last image of Das in my mind will always be that of a slightly plump man with an infectious grin and an expressive face recounting yet another of his numerous fables.

Copyright(c) 2009 Neha Shinde

It's Raining {uh not men , but plain H20 } Hallelujah !

The rain gods have arrived in Bangalore and how! Since the past couple of weeks Bangalore has been receiving its share of rains. At a time when rest of the country is getting ready to welcome the winter, Bangalore is busy shaking water off its umbrellas and raincoats.

Its so weird and wonderful how arrival of rains can have an effect like no other season or weather. There is nothing like the first shower of rains and people caught unaware and unprepared. It’s almost like nature having her bit of fun watching people scurrying for cover.

The rains bring a spectrum of memories to my mind, predominantly the ones in Belgaum where I did my graduation. Belgaum is a city that gets more than its share of rains and with the facilities in our college hostel, the rains were not the most looked forward to event. Incidentally, the floor of the ground level rooms had a mysterious ability to get semi-flooded and it was quite a herculean task to keep the floor dry . I was invariably allotted one of the ground level rooms and had my ingenuity tested to the hilt in the mammoth task of keeping the floor from looking like a swimming pool. And in case you are curious.... Newspapers !.. It works !!

There was also the temptation of dashing to the rooftop , which by the way was a taboo ( you see, the boys hostel was adjacent to our hostel and the warden could not risk rain soaked youths singing ‘Tip Tip Barsa Paani, Paani Mein Aag Lagaye ’ on rooftops.) But we did sometimes manage a quick dash without being obstructed and it was during one of these escapades, we spied a lovely rainbow in the rain aftermath. Breaking rules sometimes pays!

Of course the most recent 'rain memory' is that of Pune a couple of years ago. While Mumbai was getting flooded, Pune just kept receiving rains and rains and endless rains with no particular effect. I would wake up every cloudy morning hoping the rains had finally reached a point where an official holiday could be declared. But God is workaholic and any such hopes were religiously dashed. A few places in Pune did get the flood alert, but with the resourceful people of Pune things were soon bought under control. My most vivid memory is listening to an appeal for help on Radio Mirchi and sending my flat roomie with packets of rice and daal to the collection center. She returned with mixed feelings firstly, because our packet was the smallest parcel in the room and secondly, because it reflected the magnanimous nature of the Punekars in helping their fellow beings. Ah Pune .. it brings sweet memories.. But then I am digressing..

Coming back to the monsoons Like I earlier said the rains evoke myriad emotions that a summer or winter can only hope to stir ..It’s all in the dripping umbrellas, the wet dupattas, the colourful raincoats, the cold damp fingers, the clammy shoes, the Knorr soups , the hot chai and pakoras, the hot water evening baths, that towel tossed carelessly over the chair......That's what makes the rains so special ...Makes you fetch your twice mended umbrella and hum the very romantic song from 1942 : A Love Story...Rimjhim Rimjhim .....

Copyright (c) Neha Shinde 2007