Traveling in a Big City. Other side of the Coin.

I was standing on the bus stop, waiting for the bus. Like most of the times, the bus was late.

Bored of staring at the road, I started to look around. “Oh… that girl…! I think I saw her last time as well and maybe before that too”. So she stays somewhere close and I’ve not actually ‘noticed’ before. She has an impeccable dressing sense. Her kurta goes perfect with her choodidaar and the ’tie and dye’ duppatta adds to the flair. She has multi-colored bangles in her one hand only. She has turned that traditional bangles into a very contemporary style. She has a subtle makeup, she’s holding her iPod in her other hand, a well manicured hands. In times when many of us don’t have time to comb our hair, she gives it her best shot. Every single day. She is the empowered woman of today. Modern but Indian. I felt delighted. She looked at me, I smiled. I don’t know if… she was confused, irritated, amused, nervous or what… she looked skeptical. She lowered her eyes, looked to her sandals and then turned her gaze to the road, waiting for her company bus. I smiled. And turned to the road as well.

The city’s public transport, though still in a shabby state, has come a long way. 2 years ago all you could see as public buses were 20 years old metal monsters, roaring like a sea monster but moving at snail’s pace. They looked so susceptible that you were never sure if they will make till the last stop. Now things are improving. We have Air Conditioned Volvo luxury buses. Swift and smooth. In a country with majority of population not assured of “do waqt ki roti”, where majority of population has no access to education, where ‘healthcare for all’ is still a vision, where the government has scores of issues to tackle before coming to urban public transport, having a luxury bus is actually just that. A luxury. I commend the government. And board the bus.

The bus is a little crowed. Alright, a bit more than ‘little’ crowed. Okay fine… it is over crowded. I don’t understand why people are so anguished to see a crowed. After all its people like you and me who make the crowd. We are part of the crowd. anyway, I scraped through and found a place to stand. The bus being air conditioned, you are spared of the dreadful body odors some people may have. Instead you have fragrances, all kinds of it. Musk, lavender, cologne. Not bad I say. The crowd makes the journey look longer than it is. “O… for what day have I bought the Sony Ericsson walkman series phone”, I remembered. I tuned to FM radio. “Hmmm… those Bass Reflex Headphones really produce a great sound”. That song was really nice. And the RJ has a decent sense of humor and some of the jokes are really worth the upward curve of your lips. The journey isn’t that painful anymore. The bus is going with the rhythm of the song…

The rhythm is broken, abruptly. Rhythm of the bus that is. Driver applies sudden breaks and everyone is almost tripped. I see a big SUV has come in the way out of nowhere. There’s a big L sign on the car, signifying the driver is still learning. A young girl is driving. Apparently this is the first time she’s hit the roads. Her father is sitting on the front seat, guiding her. She’s terrified by the 6 wheeled monsters, the buses and trucks, on the roads. And she’s terrified by her father as well. She couldn’t cope up with horror of a big loaded truck behind her honking. In desperate attempt to escape, she sneaks the SUV in the little space she saw, a space where you’ll think twice to get a moped in. Had the bus driver not applied the quick brakes, there would have been a collision. She is afraid. So is her father. Her father is apologized to the bus driver and gave her a look. She was expecting a frightening look, but what she got was an assuring look. A look that said, “its okay, these things happen. That’s why I am here with you. Don’t worry and keep driving”. She felt in better control of the vehicle now, smiled to the bus driver and moved on. The driver smiled. The smile clearly suggesting, “why women have to drive”. Those who got the joke, laughed. I was among them.

The bus stops at the next stop. Being a major junction, many passengers got down. I got seat. A window seat. Passengers got down, many new got in, bus doors are closed then why isn’t the bus moving? Oh…! how can I forget… it’s a major junction. Which means 10-15 minutes of waiting time a the traffic signal. Which means the traffic jam cascades all the way from the junction to the bus stop and stretches far beyond. Which mean we are stuck. I looked out of the big panoramic windows of the bus. A beautiful sight. A beautiful young woman, standing at the bus stop. The city is full of such beautiful sights, I thought. While the last girl at the bus stop was immaculately dressed, this one was still to dry her hairs. The water was still dripping from her hairs. ‘Tip.. Tip’ Little water droplets, originating from the root of her hair, traversing the full length, sometimes through her face, into the thick hairs again, at the tip end…. and Tip… there goes another one. Her hairs left loose, spread all over her shoulders, misting the collars of her shirt. She wipes her face every few minutes and ends the fortune of the lucky water droplets half way. She get all her hair over to her left shoulder, gives them a shake… and loads of pearls leave the shores, into the air. I can hear the pearls scattering on the panoramic window pane. I close my eyes. Just then, the FM channel turns retro and Mohd. Rafi sings, “Naa Jhatako Zulf Se Paani, Ye moti chhot jaayenge.” Divine. By the time the song ends and I open my eyes again, the divinity had ended. I was back in the real world. The traffic light had turned green and the bus had started moving. She was left behind. How I wish the traffic signal was a little more dreadful, the bus took a little more time at the signal, the divinity lasted a bit longer…. But it wasn’t to be.

The bus had crossed the dreadful signal and not so dreadful experience, and was moving again. Just a few minutes of movement and bus slows again. The traffic is thickening again. What it could be? There’s no signal here. Is there an accident? “God forbid, No..!” Oh well, I guess its meeting time again. There’s this family of cattle who invariably decide to have family get together almost every morning, right in the middle of the roads. The traffic was slow, but moving. I wondered why nobody is making a move and getting those cattle out of roads. When the bus passed by the royal family, I wondered even more on what saw. There were few people who were trying to get the cattle off the road. Two of them stood with their hands joined, as if in prayer. They were requesting the cows to move. They were apologetic for every push they made. Every harsh poke was followed by an apology. Cows in major population of India, is incarnation of god. In fact some people rate her as mother. You don’t mistreat your mother, even if she unintentionally irritates you. This is a metropolitan city, where I thought people are drifting towards western lifestyle. But here, people are still bound to their faith, their heritage, their roots. Lines of the pledge we used to repeat every morning in the school, echoed in my ears, “ I am proud of India’s rich and varied heritage.” The RJ cracked another laughable joke. I laughed. The bus moved on.

I see two small children, dressed in their school dresses. Going to school. They were playing with a ball. Happy and content. They bowed to the god as they crossed a temple. Their father accompanied them to the school. Suddenly the ball spills and goes to the road. The children, more concerned about the ball than the traffic go towards the ball. Their father is frightened. He like a messiah, raises his one hand to the traffic, assumable asking them to stop and walks straight into the thick of things. Without caring if the traffic would oblige to his raised hand. He had only one thing in mind, safety of his children. He was lucky that the traffic did oblige to his hand and stopped, some of the vehicles stopping just inches away. He picked up his kids, gave a grateful look up in the heavens, then an equally grateful and apologetic look to the traffic. He moves out of the traffic in a hurry. He scolds his children, scold which clearly has more concern than anger. In an age where I keep hearing about loosing ties, breaking bonds, magnifying gaps within relation, especially among blood relation, here is one man who is willing to risk his entire existence, his life for sake of his children. Who just risked his life for sake of his children. Without giving it a second thought. He is the father I read about in an essay in my school days. I felt dignified.

After this point, the traffic would be slow for another 1.5 km at least. The construction of the new flyover over the major bottleneck is underway. They are already running 4 months behind schedule. Some land acquisition row has delayed the project and made life worse on the bottleneck that it was supposed to ease. There is a PIL in the court for the relocation of the houses that were demolished and re-plantation of the trees cut. Even though the houses were illegal. The PIL says, its governments duty to provide shelter to all the citizens of the country. The government has agreed. The court has ordered to demolish any more houses, till there’s a concrete plan of relocation for all of them. I read in an article, that in China, once an infrastructure is approved by the government, it executed without any hurdle. Even if it mean wiping a whole village off the maps. And here, people are fighting for a handful of illegal encroachments and government is succumbing to them. But now, when the flyover is complete, maybe 6-8 months late, most of the people would be pleased. Many families who had no legal shelter would have it. The green cover of the city would be intact. And the bottleneck eased. Most of the people would be happy. I also read in a survey that a staggering 60-65 % of people of China would not like to be born again in China, while an astonishing 80% of Indians would love to be born as Indians again. A country with more number of smiling faces is any day a better deal than a county with maximum number of flyovers.

Finally, the bus reached my destination. 28 minutes late than I thought. I moved quickly to the office gate. The security guard greeted with a smiling “good morning”. I returned, both the smile and the greeting. I almost reached the office building when the FM channel plays that latest chartbuster. But its time to switch off the radio. “Hey…! there’s a queue at the elevators”. It’ll take at least 5 minutes before its my turn to get in. Just the time I needed for the song. I heard the complete song, switched off the radio, put it back in my pocket and entered the elevators. The elevator walls have mirrors. I adjusted my hairdo, tucked the shirt back in, still humming that last song.

The door opens at my floor and I am floored at what I see. It’s her… the face that makes my day. I am not humming that song anymore, but still can hear it. Real life can also have a background score, I realize. Sigh..! but she still wont look at me. But I would. My eyes searched for her eyes… “Boy…! did you see that? Was that an illusion?” I though she just looked at my through the corner of her eyes. Her face pretending she didn’t bother, but eyes searching for me. Well, now I think… is it just a coincidence that I see her almost every time I get off the elevators. Maybe she on purpose hovers around at this time. Maybe she also wants to steal a glance of me. Maybe she is equally happy to see me as I am to see her. Maybe she’s just more shy to accept than I am. Maybe…. I start humming that song again.

She in my mind, bounce in my steps and song in my heart. I step in the cubicle. I greet everyone I find on the way, including 2 people I’ve never seen before. They are amused, but smiled and greeted back. After checking the mails, before I start my work, I ask my friends for tea… most of them agreed. We plan to watch the latest Bollywood release over the weekend. We come back to seat. I check the availability of tickets. They are available. I book immediately.

I wasted 30 minutes in travel, but saved my day.

I cann’t wait for weekend…

Traveling in a Big City. One side of the Coin.

They asked, “Why do you travel in rustic, crowed public buses to office when you have a bike?” Bike, any day, is more convenient and cheaper. You can travel faster, at any time you wish and save money too. Pressed by some logical arguments, I tried. I did commute by my bike. And I think I did it right for now I have reason for their reasons, logic for their logics. Now I can tell how wrong a decision it was, based on experience and not only theories. Driving a bike on Bangalore roads, or any metropolitan city of India for that matter, can be… well a feeling of nirvana. You’ll feel all this is so useless, you’ll wish if you could leave all these and escape. You don’t have to commit lots of sins and die to see what ‘hell’ is all about. In a travel of home to office, you can get a sneak peek. When they say, “its hell out there”, I didn’t know they mean it. Thanks to pollution and shrinking green cover of our cities, the weather is invariably hot. Wearing a helmet…!! well if it was not illegal, you’d surely want to skip that. After heat the most striking feature of your travel would be the beautiful road and traffic sense of your fellow roadsters. I thought, nobody like to be in office, then why is everybody in freaking hurry to reach there? They’ll break lanes, drive on the footpath, jump the traffic signal all at will. They’ll try to sneak in a SUV in a space where you would think twice to get a moped. They’ll overtake you from left side and still stare you back. Your blood boils. And the beating sun only helps the purpose. You abuse almost every second minute, sometimes loud, sometimes its lost within the helmet. Sometimes others, at times yourself. Just when you were getting used to of these creepers on the roads, there will be these kings of roads to deal with. Pedestrians. They, like a messiah, will raise one hand to you, assumable asking you to stop, and start walking. Straight into the heavy traffic. Without giving a second thought. Sometimes you feel proud that a common man of your city is so brave. But mostly you’ll be disgusted. You’ve two simple options; press the brake paddles with all your might and save the messiahs or pull the throttle and finish it once and for all. How do you wish you could choose the second one. But isn’t life a big mess already to add salt to burns, you think and invariably choose the first one. Every time. You apply brakes and stop inches before the messiahs. You abuse again. Sometimes loud, sometimes its lost within the helmet. Sometimes others, at times yourself. You stop at a traffic signal, which you do very frequently, you try to relax. Try to. You switch off you engine and stretch the tiring muscles. Just then the auto-rickshaw behind you starts honking. “What the &*%^…!!. Can’t he see its red signal. Can’t he have a little patience? Can’t anyone have a little patience? Why is he hell bent to jump the signal? Sometimes you give in to the honking and give way, sometimes you don’t and let the honking get louder and your temper higher. After some 11 minutes you finally manage to cross that dreaded signal. You have driven only a few minutes and the traffic gets thick again. “What is it now…??” you frown. There isn’t a signal here, why the traffic is slowing then. Is there an accident? You cannot decide if you are sorry for the accident victim or sorry for yourself. When you finally manage to sneak through, you cannot believe what you see. It was not an accident. But a family of cattle that decided to have family get together right in the middle of the road. “Where the hell is the traffic police. How can they even let this happen. These cattle, if they are stray, should be killed and made shoes out of. They call this a metropolitan city…?? Its worse than a village.” Your helmet is almost blown by the heat you head has generated in last 20 minutes.

You read in the newspaper 10 months ago that they are planning a flyover over that major junction on the way. A flyover that is expected to ease the bottleneck for ever. Well for next few years at least. You felt good thinking of the smooth days ahead. You felt even better when the construction actually started. The end the menace at the junction was near. They cut down quite a few trees to widen the roads, and construct the flyover. “Well that’s for better traffic flow in the city” you assured yourself. If only you knew the flyover construction would be a bigger, far bigger menace itself. The land acquisition row has delayed and painfully slowed the construction. The junction is bottleneck, more dreadful than ever. The junction that took 10 minutes to cross, not takes 20. And the reduced green cover on the road hasn’t done anything to cool you down in the scorching heat. You curse the government. The system. You curse almost everything you see around. By the time you reach the gates of your office complex, you’ve abused (and very badly at that) at least 50 times, cursed at least 50 people and wished you could escape from this life, at least 50 times. And you are not immortal. On the roads you must have done something to annoy someone as well and you might have been abused by some 50 people as well. Whattaa way to start your day…!! You thought despite this ridiculous ride, at least you’ve come early to office. Something to write home about. But you realize your tryst with destiny is not over. Not as yet. You are not as early as you think. The parking lot is full. You hover 3 times all over the parking lot to find that one elusive space to park your bike. And finally find one at the extreme corner. A corner which seems to be in a different city. The big office campus your company is so proud of, starts to feel like bad idea. A single building with parking in the basement was far better option. You enter the elevators, after waiting for 6-7 minutes in the queue that is. You look yourself in the mirror on the walls of the elevators. The pollution and dirt has taken its toll. Your favorite white shirt is neither white, nor your favorite anymore. All the face wash you applied on your face could not avert the horrifying look you’ve on you face now. Your 300 rupees worth haircut is looking a battlefield. All this to come to this place… the place you never liked. The place that makes you do what you don’t like. The place you want to leave at the first reason you find. The place called OFFICE. You come out of elevators. Oooo…. its her. The face that makes your day. You saw her before entering the cubicle. Something good happened this morning. Finally. But like always, she didn’t even bother to look at you. You are in no mood to take a royal ignore. “What the hell she thinks of herself, who cares if she didn’t looked at me. I wont look at her either, not anymore.”… Nothing good can happen today. You stride past your colleagues without wishing them a good morning. You are sure nothing good will happen today. A day in you life is ruined. Bike ride to office. Not worth. I saved 15 minutes of traveling time but wasted my whole day. Next day. No prize for guessing, I took a public bus.

We could have been so good together. Episode 3.

The dawn of 2006 saw advent of a new revolution. A spark started in early 2004 had transformed into a raging fire and had started gulping the world at a dangerously rapid pace. Arguably the biggest thing to happen, especially in developing countries like ours, after the mobile phones, was online social networking. And leading the way was a giant Orkut. Started off by a Google Inc. employee and later taken over by Google Inc., Orkut made social networking easy, fun and fashionable. Orkuting was IN.

Though, social networking was not a new concept in the online world. MySpace already existed in the USA and by the time Orkut could spread its wings, Facebook had registered almost half of the US. But those sites were for US. They still are for US. They have a distinct US feel to them. I still feel out of place there. But not on Orkut. Orkut offered homely warmth, a cozy “feet at home” environment to Indian consumers. India, which was still coming to terms with swift pace of broadband internet, found Facebook a little difficult to catch up. Orkut was growing with the same pace of Indian cyber space. We had seen Orkut originate, learning to walk, stumble at times and finally run, maybe faster than us. But it’s fast pace never hurt, it felt good. It felt good to see the site we had registered in its early days going all around the world. Orkut was not only a website. It was a noun, a verb, an adjective. It became part of vocabulary and grammar. Social networking was not social networking any more, it was Orkuting. It swept the whole new computer aware generation off its feet.

I was also standing on my feet till the Orkut wave swept me off. Sending and receiving friend requests, leaving and reading scraps, updating personal profile and display photo every few days to remain unique, noticed and among thick of things…. Orkuting was becoming a way of life. So much so that if you are not on Orkut, you are not in the gang. Orkut was a harmless way to get in touch with so many school and college classmates. Well the female classmates to be particular. What I could never ask them in person, I could ask here without the “fear”. Just a click of a button and Orkut would ask it on your behalf… “Would you be my friend???” And for the receiving party also it was a no hassle way to both accept and reject the request. Even if you were not so impressed by the person in your college or school days, you could connect to him/her here… see if your perception was right, if the person is worth being your friend… if not you can easily “delete” him/her from the list.

Was it due to curiosity to know me, the ease deleting me from the list anytime, some secret feelings for me, people’s strive to have more number of friends in their list or just plain good luck… but everyone I dared my Orkut to ask on my behalf “would be my friend” they (she) accepted. O Orkut…!! Where were you all these years?? I wanted to ask this to so many people for so many years. But neither did I have courage nor a trustworthy friend who could ask it on my behalf. O Orkut… you are my best friend…

So the lady who used to sit next to me in the exams, the lady who used to wait at the same bus stop as mine, the lady who was good friend of one of my friends… all were in my friends list. More than anything else, what I rejoiced the most was the fact that they do remember me. That’s incredible!

The fear had no place and need in this online world. There was nothing called e-fear. The moment you find someone you think you know, might know, had ever known... you could, without any fear, ask, “Would you be my friend??” And they could, without any fuss, say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. fear was another shade lighter. But a permanent tattoo it was… so it was there. Very much there.

Amidst all these fear lightening modules, something more frightening had started.

It was early 2005. The mid semester exams of 1st semester of the post graduation had ended. Studies were light, moods were relaxed, and whole environment was casual. I was already a part of a gang comprising of girls, the fear had already started fading. An early January afternoon, the sun had come out after much deliberation and long wait, cutting through the thick January fog. We had bunked the class and were lazing in the sun. Playing some old school games or should I say old, school games. Someone called for Bhavna, one of the girls in the gang, from far. We all turned.

Sand blasted Lee Cooper jeans, Nike white sneakers, high neck white sweat shirt, unkempt hairdo, an “I don’t give a damn” attitude in the walk, a mysterious smile on face, hairs bouncing on shoulder with each step… Then there were doves fluttering, a long yellow duppatta swaying in the air, glitters filling the whole scene, DDLJ song playing in the background and the whole frame was mushy pink color tinted…
But it seemed like no one other than me could see the later half. As I could not see anyone who was dumbstruck, jaw dropped with non-blinking eyes.

Enters Niharika…

We could have been so good together. Episode 2.

Summers of 2004, last year of college. The final semester exams had just concluded. A Bachelors Degree in computers seemed very inspiring prospect when we joined. But by the time it was ending we realized there are very few takers in the real world. So a masters degree was nothing but mandatory. Entrance exams of all major universities in the country took all the time in next 2 months.

I don’t know if it was blessings of parents; grace of god or any other filmy phenomenon, all I can assure is it was not purely my talent that I was selected for a Masters Degree program from one of the best universities in the country. Life was never so good. The sun was shining brighter than usual. Apart from a degree of repute, this program brought me another opportunity. An opportunity that was going to change my life. For better. An opportunity to live away from home, for the first time in my life. The program required me to move out the city to a new, alien city. It aroused mixed emotions. Again. Excitements, anticipation, expectations, exhilaration, hope. And “fear”.

This new city and “bigger” university was more close to the college life I has seen on silver screen. “So this is where they lift all the stories form… the bachelor degree college was only a teaser, a trailer. This is real picture.”

The creatures from Venus were friendlier. More willing. You don’t have to go to them and talk, they would actually come to you, say a hello whenever passed by, ask for notes, suggest a coffee break… boy was this real? This cannot be true. I was living 70 mm dreams, in high definition resolution. Big city, big university… it was a big life. I was not used of this. Where are those fear fed boys? Where are those equally fear and if may use the word, attitude fed girls? It was normal life for most, but very unusual for me. I couldn’t sleep for two nights after that sweet girl asked for my mobile number. I couldn’t concentrate in any of the lectures after that cute lady shook my hand in the morning. And I was walking in the air after receiving a romantically inclined poetry SMS from that lady with flowing hairs… till I came to know that its because she and many other have a Cheap SMS pack from their mobile service provider and the SMS I got was received by all other 50 friends in her phonebook and was further forwarded to 500 more.

Though inside I was swaying like a sea, outside I used to make (at least tried to make) a calm and composed picture. I tried to show that all this as normal for me, as it is for them. I am so used to of these. And I guess I did a reasonable job as nobody ever complained fake emotion. Everything was picture perfect, coinciding with the silver tales on the silver screens. I was living every moment of it. I can safely confess in Bryan Adams words, “Those were the best days of my life”, even though it was not summer of 69.

But the one big difference in my 70 mm life and story on 70 mm screen was still lingering…. I still had no answer for my home grown fear. Everything was as in films, only that in films, it was still the hero who walks the first step. I was waiting for a paradigm shift in the movie scripts and the way world sees a “boy meets girl” romance. It never happened.

Though, what happened was, the fear grew many shades lighter. But it’s like a permanent tattoo. You may get it erased, but in reality it is never erased, it’s just covered. Anyone who had not seen it would never know it ever existed. People who had seen it earlier would look in amaze where and how did it disappear. You will not see it, but you know it. You know its there, beneath the fake covering of skin. So was my fear. Two years into this silver screen life and it faded. I covered it under fake covering of my acting skills. People here, who didn’t know me in my “fear” days, never knew that it ever existed. People who knew wondered where it has gone. And for me too, it was almost invisible. But I knew it was there. Beneath that fake covering.

I was learning to live this life. I was learning to take and respond to those passing smiles. I was learning to take a handshake casually. I was learning to ask for and give mobile numbers without any qualms. I was learning to either ignore or forward those romantic poetry SMSs. I was learning to hang out with a gang which included girls. I was learning to battle my fear. I was learning to conqure it as well.

We could have been so good together. Episode 1.

24 years. 24 long years of my life I had to wait for that day. Well honestly, not all the 24 years were spent waiting. Maybe last 7 years. Maybe it was 7 years ago only that I first heard about the concept of “Date”. A Date, when a girl agrees to go out with you for a lunch, dinner, movie, shopping or just strolling in the mall. When it’s only you and her. You get to spend all the time together… maybe it’s the first step.

The concept was fascinating sans the procedure. The whole idea was “you ask a girl to go out with you”. The girl has all the right in the world to decline without any good reason, or if at all there are reasons, it can be the most horrendous you might have heard. You could be rejected for a date if you don’t tie you shoes properly or if you tie them a bit too properly. If your shirt is too casual or if it’s too formal, if color of your belt and shoes are different, if your hairs are unkempt or if you keep a comb in your pocket… it can be anything. You can NEVER be sure what will get her and she can refuse.

Little did I know that one day someone was not going to refuse for any reason.

Being brought up in middle class family, closeness and fluency with fairer sex was majorly limited to in-house ladies… mom, sisters, chachi, bua etc. The idea of a female friend was mostly alien, and any friendly association with a girl outside family was looked with suspicion, was talked in the colony and discussed over dinner tables. My innocent childhood psychology was fed with fear of talking to any feminine homo sapient, unless it’s safe enough to address her “Aunty”. Anything of fellow age was worth a fear. And fear grew to the hilt as I was in the last stage of my adolescent years… the most crucial years to nurture such fears.

Summers of 1998. We were in class 10th. The fear never really pinched as I was surrounded by equally fear fed boys in the locality and school. There was no room for a girl in our gang. We were self sufficient. Anyone having a girlfriend or even a girl as a friend was inhuman and was not welcomed. We had our own confined world of fantasies and fallacies, where could talk about girls, but not to girls. And we were happy. Content. We played football in the rains. We played cricket all day. We exchanged “not so good” kind of magazines in the classroom. We could do all that as there was no “girl” around whom you had to please, for whom you have to pretend to be a “nice” guy. Though this contentment was superficial. For all of us. Deep down, the idea of talking, laughing, eating, roaming with a girl, used to fascinate me. True, we used to play cricket all day, but whenever some girl(s) of class were around, watching us play, the cover drives would become more stylish, toe and elbow pointing to bowler and follow-through straight over left shoulder. The fielding got more adventures with flashy dives and flying catches. And every good delivery bowled was followed by a glance at the ladies in audience. Have they noticed the out swing? Some lesser players would get accolades from audience because they would discuss the match with the audience in the canteen. But I could never actually talk to any of the audiences. No matter how good I play on field, off it I was bad player.

So, the fear actually pinched.

In the autumns of year 2001, I was admitted to University College. Aah…!! a college! Excitements, expectation, anticipation, exhilaration, hope. And fear.

I was hopeful and wishful that I’ll get rid of the fear here. The place which is Mecca of all the Bollywood love stories… College! This would be it.

And seeds were sown on day one. I saw her. And then I saw dreams. All sorts of dreams. In all the movies and songs which our Bollywood dream factory churns out… I used to see her and me in place of the hero and his lady love. All the love stories were mine own story. But all the success stories, the success love stories, on screen had one big difference than mine. Well in fact two big differences. First, on screen it was SUCCESS story which was not the case for me. And second big difference was, in all the stories it was the male lead who initiated the first step. Ask the lady for a date.

Phew… don’t they have the “fear”…?? Well it’s a story after all, a work of fiction. God…!! Will they ever come up with a story in which the hero has this “fear”. Who’ll tell me how to get over this… there is simply no education in films for me. All these film are so unreal. This won’t happen in real world. No body will dare to talk to girl like that…!! Getting a girl cannot be so effortless. Agreed I am in college, but in a film. This is real world buddy… it won’t happen here.

But it happens. It actually happens in real world. Getting a girl on date is not earth shattering effort after all. By the time first year was ending, most boys either had a solid reason for not having a girl… “I want to concentrate on studies”, “I don’t believe in candy floss romance”, “I don’t have enough money to afford a girl”… or they had a girl. I had neither. What I had was “fear”.

Oh... coming back to my dreams, all sorts of dreams. Well those “all sorts” included a nightmare. A dashing and rich boy of the class, who had a bike and attitude from day one of college, got her. I consoled myself… she is happier with her. I could’ve never given her that lovely smile on her face when she is riding pillion and the bike zooms past everyone. How I wished I had a bike.

The college days were almost over. And what I had by the end of this supposedly roller coaster ride called University life…?? Strive for the bike. A gang of boys. A broken dream. A wish for a date. And fear.

Few years down the line, this fear was going to be futile.