Anecdote #47

Let’s Punt!

Cambridge apart from it’s academic excellence is famous for one more thing that is, Punting. It is essentially the same as rowing. To define it in exact terms, punting consists of a long, narrow boat with a flat bottom and square edges and it is moved by a person standing at one end who pushes the bottom of the river with a pole. At first I when I observed others doing this I felt that it would be very simple but I was proven wrong. 

There were two main templates available. Either you do it yourself or you get a professional punter and enjoy the enchanting scenery surrounding River Cam. Naturally we were students hence we were not awarded this luxury. There were five of us in that boat and we took turns at the activity. As all my class mates were able to do it, though with some difficulty, I was very confident that I would be able to pull it off too. I climbed on to the elevated portion and pushed the pole into the shallow bed of Cam. As soon as I pulled it out the boat began to shake. Screams erupted and the boat could have turned upside down. Everyone urged me to step down but my overconfidence was undeterred, I assured everyone that it would be fine and kept at it. 

Ironically and not so ironically in I caused an accident and the boat crashed into a tree that had submerged into the water. The branches of the tree and the filthy leaves engulfed the boat. With great difficulty we emerged out like nomads from a cave pulling away the branches from our faces. We thought that the calamity was but the damages became more severe.While I was thanking my stars that I didn’t wash my hair that very day, Robin, a Dutch boy from my class had taken pictures of the entire fiasco. He told me that the pictures would be on Facebook, I retorted by saying that I wasn’t on it. Wittily he replied by saying, now I would be.

Whatever said and done the entire experience was extremely memorable. From being too scared to sit in the boat to crashing it, I had evolved plenty in that very short period of time. 

Later in the evening when I sat down on the dinner table with all the other people from India we began sharing our anecdotes from the day. As they were studying Business their slot for punting was different from mine. Urmeen and Manmeen interacted with me properly for the first time that day. Before that we had only exchanged pleasantries. 

Manmeen shared that they had gotten one guy from their class to punt for two hours. The docile fellow was too shy to say anything and his hands were brick red by the end of it. The humorous incident left us in splits. Laughter is contagious and when I start laughing I usually go on for at least an hour. Jokes start oozing out of me like I was born to crack jokes. I am very critical of people’s sense of humour (not really, Kapil is my only benchmark) and I felt that both the sisters were on the same wave length as I was.

One thing led to the other and we began chatting about Kabir Singh and simultaneously about a Chinese couple in their class where the boyfriend carried the girl’s handbag all the time. Spontaneously I said so he was more befitting as Preeti and the girl was his Kabir Singh. That made no one else on the table but the three of us hysterical. We just could not stop laughing.

The connection had been made and sealed. Consequentially, there was an evening talk that day where we sat next to each other. Every time we glanced at each other, we ended up in splits uncontrollably. It was comforting to be at ease with people and I could not care less about embarrassment.

The humour and laughter proved to be the best medicine that night and I slept comparatively better. I was more at home now and while I lay in bed I could only look forward to meeting my new friends the next day.

Anecdote #46

Things start getting better now!

6:00 AMMy eyes were wide open. I sat upright on my bed without a hint of laziness. I immediately remembered a recent interview given by the Prime Minister where he said that as soon as he wakes up, he is up and about with no desire of going back to bed. So this is what he feels like I thought to myself. You see, waking up early for me was an accomplishment as back at home everyone took turns to drag me out of bed.Honestly speaking I had a clear motive. My father had shared with me once that during his days in the army he woke up at dawn so that he could access the toilets while they were clean. Like father, like daughter. I was satisfied with my accomplishment for the day and got ready for breakfast to Cripps Court. On my way I passed St.John’s Chapel which was a beautiful sight to pass by. The tall structures of the Medieval times seemed royal and it was a delight to see them in person. The morning was chilly, I lifted the jacket’s hood onto my head. I wondered where this sudden rush of wind was coming from. The canal running under me seemed to be the most probable cause. The cold water was the source for the wind yet I had to admit that it was a picturesque sight. What struck me the most was that the water body was algae less and this one tree bent into the water with a certain grace. Whenever I crossed this bridge I was standing on, I admired this tree from the corner of my eye. It’s lush greenness and flexibility was unique to me.

 Enjoying the walk, I reached for breakfast in seven to eight minutes. I settled for milk, a banana and bread. Being a vegetarian I had limited options but since I cannot start my day without milk I was happy that my most staple requirement was available in hot and cold versions.
 As I had afternoon classes, every morning was lined up with an activity. On this day we had a tour planned for all the colleges in Cambridge and the tour guide was an alumna of Cambridge University. 
Before we went out for the tour, our orientation took place. All the students from my class were seated there. Out of the 40 of them, 35 were Chinese and the rest were from Europe and America. I was the only Indian in my course.
I was skeptical of making any friends in my class. The Chinese just hung out with each other and  the case was the same with the other students from their respective countries.
I was trying to prepare myself mentally to not mind being alone when a Chinese girl approached me. Her name was Xintong Chen. The next moment she told me I could call her Alexandra. In China every person was given an English name with the Chinese one, she explained. I told her I would refer to her as Xintong only and I have still kept my promise. 
Xintong was my first friend. Throughout the course of the day she gave me company and was extremely open minded when we discussed matters related to her country. Behind her short hair and bangs were her expressive eyes. When she smiled, they too gleamed. There was a genuine warmth in Xintong and she stuck with me through all the classes and excursions we had together. Though language was some times a barrier between us, we understood one another and even the silences were comfortable.
It was from this day onwards that Cambridge slowly started to grow on me. My health was also improving and in the following days so would my accompany. In that time I could never imagine how the days would unfold.
 You might not believe it when I say this but in the coming time my life would seem straight out of a comedy movie. At this point of the story we are about to reach the climax, when my core Punjabiness would reveal itself in Cambridge.

Anecdote #45

Day 2

In continuation with where I left off, I was not in the best of health. I did not carry too many antacids because honestly acidity, heartburn was a problem that I had not come across in my life. I knew I was in a position where I had to replenish the stock of those medicines so I went to the pharmacy. Unfortunately I went to the swankiest of them all which was Boots. I walked up to them very casually and asked them for my medicine. Their reaction was unexpected and jolting, they asked where the prescription was. I was taken aback. I had asked for a generic medicine and in India a prescription would never be demanded for it. How was I to get a Doctor’s prescription in Cambridge!

The stroke of bad luck made me feel dejected and I went back. As I was walking back falling into this pit of self-pity, I stopped in my tracks. I thought to myself who in the world gets the opportunity to spend a summer in Cambridge. I should not waste time complaining and try to remedy the situation.

 There was a sudden switch in my thinking and I got clarity.

First I decided to take everything that was happening around me lightly. I was in one of the most developed countries of this world there had to be a way where I could get my medicine. Clarity struck me and I recalled that I had seen an Indian looking man at a herbal pharmacy on my way to Boots. With some hope I walked into his shop. He only had natural medication which I had no knowledge about and had never taken. He sensed how I was feeling.

Miraculously he shared a trick with me. He told me to visit Superdrug, a more affordable drug store. The antacids, he said would be available on the aisles. Subsequently he finally shared the secret sauce, do not get it billed at the pharmaceutical section of the store, instead he told me to get it billed at the cosmetic section.

The trick worked!

For me that man is truly an angel. I do not know his name or his story, I did not even buy a thing from his store yet he was kind enough to empathise with my circumstances and lent a helping hand. It was on this day that I actually started to learn the meaning of the word gratitude.

The rest of the day was a breeze, I attended my classes had my meals and talked to a few people from different countries. It was very cordial but I had not found people with whom I struck a chord. It was only at dinner that I saw a two Indians, twins. Ah to see people from my country! I did not know how to approach them and at the time my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of home and my health.

In that moment I was unaware of the role they’d play in my stay. I only knew their names- Manmeen and Urmeen. I felt a strange kind of affinity, I couldn’t fathom what the feeling was.

Time would slowly unravel how they went on to become my best friends and my biggest support system.

Anecdote #44

Day 1 in Cambridge

I was in London for two days before my programme began in Cambridge. It was not until my father dropped me that it hit me. I was going to be living alone for the next two weeks in a foreign country without Mama or Papa.

I had gone to Cambridge for a summer programme to get an idea about education abroad. The entire affair affirmed my belief that unless and until you don’t experience it first hand, you can never truly know how it feels like to study abroad. I was going to study history, the same subject I am currently pursuing in India. 

Let’s go back to the beginning of that day, Sunday the 7th of July 2019. We reached the City of Cambridge at 2:20. First we went to Cripps Court which served as a hostel, mess, a place where the classes were held and where the office was. After registering successfully it was time for me to receive my accommodation. Surprisingly, it was a five minute walk from Cripps Court. It was off campus. As a girl who had never lived outside her home, who never went for school trips, I was scared. I could not show it to my father hence I kept a straight face. It was a rare occasion where I did not blurt out the first thought that came to my mind to him. I am like that with my parents, being an only child I am extremely close to them.  

My father dropped me to my accommodation which was in a vibrant lane close to the heart of the city. I was on the top floor of my building, virtually living in an attic. There was a Chinese restaurant on the ground floor and I could hear all the noises from the street.

By this time I was surpressing the fear and anxiety.

The most vivid memory I have from that day is Papa returning from Cripps Court after he tried his level best to change my accommodation. I knew I could not be disheartened in front of him, especially when he had to be leaving. The words I wanted to say were Papa please take me back home but he funded everything, every bit of the trip. It would be unfair on my part to act so selfish. I hugged him and the tears rolled down helplessly. To make up for this cowardice I lied to him, I told him I would manage on my own though in my heart I did not know how I would do that. The next part was the hardest face timing Mama with a straight face. Thankfully I managed to do that by keeping it short. Every time I reassured her by saying that I would be fine I was actually bolstering my own confidence. It felt strange to keep something from her, it was as though I was talking to a relative not my mom.

What came next kept me distracted for sometime. My friend from India had sent a package for his brother who is currently studying in the UK. He had previously studied in Cambridge and he was kind enough to give me and the girl living in the next room a tour of the central part of Cambridge. He went over all the good places to eat, the drugstore, grocery store and a few of the famous colleges. I mentally thanked God. It was a much needed tour after all I was living all alone I had to take care of myself. 

All the walking around, jet lag and non home food I had consumed left me feeling sick that evening. It was a tricky situation because I had to ask Mama what medicine I should take without letting her know how uncomfortable I was. She told me take an antacid but I was feeling so unwell that I had to take two antacids and even then I was uncomfortable the whole night.

The only source of strength for me was my prayer and my God. I could not sleep the whole night and continued to pray the entire time. My condition could easily worsen but God gave me the strength to recover and keep myself composed.

Thankfully the toughest day was over.

Anecdote #43

Bittersweet

I remember the first time I had coffee. I must have been all of 8 or 9 years old. We were at an Italian restaurant in Defence Colony called, "Flavours." It became the standard place we'd visit for family meals. My grandfather loves desserts and it was unsaid that a cheesecake would follow the meal. As a side note I think they made the best cheesecake in Delhi.

It was after one such meal that my grandfather decided to give company to the cheesecake with a cup of cappuccino. Like other children of my age I too was fascinated by 'coffee,' a hot beverage that smelled delicious yet at that time I did not know how deceiving my olfactory senses were.

My grandfather was silent, it was late I thought he would be tired yet there was an aura of warmth around him.

The cup of coffee arrived and he took the first sip. He was seated next to me and grasped my curiosity. He asked me to take a sip. I was nervous, slightly apprehensive as I didn't know whether it would be too hot and so I was afraid that I would burn my lip. I didn't anticipate the fact that the taste would turn out to be the primary problem. The unpredictability of circumstances still astonishes me.

The very first sip is till date a fresh memory. I still remember the bitterness of the scantily sugared cappuccino hitting my palate. I was determined not to take another sip. My grandfather read my expression and said something I will always remember, "It gets better with each sip." And it did.

My father was transferred to Bombay when I was five years old but my mother and I continued living in Delhi. He would come back on the weekends but we didn't get enough time to bond. I remember asking my mother about his likes and dislikes. I tried sending him a postcard where I attempted to make his portrait and I fought with my mother because I didn't like the way she guided me to draw his hair. His approval at that time was paramount. 

We went to visit him in Bombay where he lived in a beautiful house at Pali Hill. My mother had some official work there hence my father and I got ample quality time. She had gone out for a meeting one afternoon and my father and I were at home. He decided to take me out for an ice-cream. Between both my parents, my father was the storyteller and I think that part of him is still very imminent. In most of his made up tales the protagonist aka me turned up at the ice-cream parlour. Hence it seemed apt to go there. The shop was beside the beach on Carter Road. Like every time I asked for a scoop of chocolate ice-cream. Mama told me that Papa's favourite flavour was mango I thought but surprisingly he asked for coffee ice-cream. He finished my leftovers and his own scoop on the way back. It was then that I was intrigued by this thing called coffee. "Papa likes it so it must be good" I thought.

Presently I enjoy a good cup of coffee. I'd choose it over tea any day. I add half a spoon of it to my cup of milk everyday to make it palatable. I happened to chance upon the origin of this habit of drinking coffee. It had started growing on me long before my dislike for my milk. How strange is it that we are at times clueless about how certain habits grow on us and what meaning they hold for us. Inconsequential things prove to have a very deep meaning over a passage of time.

Anecdote #42

The Misadventure at Mecca

When you are a student at Delhi University, you are eventually pressurised into attending college fests. In my case it was my father who had attended all of them back in his day and was appalled on knowing that I had only been to one. Which was the fest of my own college.

Hindu College's fest- Mecca is known to be a lot of fun and it coincided with a relatively free period of my life. So the plan was made and here I introduce to you the other protagonist of this story, apart from me of course- Aanya.

 We agreed to leave after our classes ended and according to the plan we would have a few other friends accompanying us. Post all the planning, D-day arrived and I felt a gush of excitement. I put in the extra effort, woke up early and managed to pull together a very sanskari look topping it with a bindi which did not match my outfit. Do pay attention to this fact as the bindi was the starting point for the misadventures that followed.

On reaching college we found out that one of our friends was not in the mood to go and the other had not turned up to college. This was a bummer for me and I could only think of how all the effort I had put into getting ready was turning out to be futile. Before our last class for the day began, I contemplated on whether or not we should go. Somewhere in the middle of Ancient Rome the Octavian in me rose and I mustered up the courage to leave the class right in the middle with Aanya.

 I knew that if I would have backtracked my parents would be greatly disappointed and I would be at the receiving end of a lecture with an end result of being labelled as boring. Mind you I am anything but boring and taking the plunge that day turned out to be the biggest source of adrenaline for all the dancing I was going to do. 

The great escape from the class was followed by a long drive to North Campus full of stimulating discussions. Aanya and I make great company, especially for each other. The drive did not seem too long as we were very engrossed in our conversation. All this talking naturally made us tired and we settled on dessert to make up for the energy we had lost. After a modest helping of churros at Sambooka's, one of the better cafe's of North Campus, the next stop was Hindu. Before we went it was imperative to get the right Bindi so the hunt began. The Bindis of the street vendor were not good enough so we went further and finally found a shop which had the right colour- black. Yes, it was that hard for us to find a plain black bindi at North campus. After successfully completing the conquest for this little cosmetic item we finally decided to go.

Fate had other plans because while walking towards the car my beloved kolhapuris gave up on me. In other words my desi footwear broke which means I could not walk. Now the hunt for a cobbler began. Thankfully my car was parked close by and we could look for the cobbler in the comfort of the car yet the loss of the slippers was hard hitting. For me it was the equivalent of an heirloom from my mother as their versatility complemented all my ethnic outfits and at the same time whenever someone asked me where I purchased them from, my smug reply would be- they're my mom's. I knew I had to get them fixed because no other chappals could ever fill in the void. I am extremely grateful to God that we found a cobbler within the next few minutes who did a seamless job for 10 rupees only.

Now I thought we are finally ready to go and we did reach Hindu although there were plenty of signs that it was not meant to be. Both of us had friends there and we met them and conversed for a while. Ultimately we decided to meet up later in the concert arena once the performances would begin. With the help of my friend Shantnu who is a student at Hindu I could cut across the long queue and I was inside with his friends. The performance was by the dynamic duo- Vishal & Shekhar a treat for bollywood fans like me.

The performance had started and I was not able to get through to Aanya. Amidst the loud music it was hard to communicate. The calls were not going through to her as it turns out that the college had some jammers in place because of which we were helpless. 

In such desperate times our saving grace was the original text message. Although we received sparse reception the text messages managed to get through. Fending for herself Aanya procured a badge from someone in the organising committee and made it! 

We thought that this would entail the end of our troubles and together made most of the concert. There's nothing like good Bollywood music. It gets you pumped but you also lose track of time. We stayed till the last song and that was a fallacy on our part. By the time we left the exits were congested. The driver could not bring the car at the front gate owing to the traffic. We had to navigate and look for the car amidst the huge rush and poor reception. After fifteen minutes of helpless searching we found bhaiya and Aanya, Shantnu, his friend Priyanka and I hoped to reach home safe and sound. 

The way back was the climax to all the problems. The route bhaiya wanted to take had been barricaded and he was trying to find his way back. He refused to take help from Google Maps and that was his greatest downfall. Fifteen minutes into losing our way he finally consented. The funny part is that the route suggested was via the Department of forest and Wildlife. Now let me describe that route, it was a narrow road which could accommodate one car and seemed like an avenue due to the number of trees surrounding it. To top all of this Bhaiya was speeding like there was no tomorrow and we would not have seen tomorrow if a vehicle would have approached us from the opposite end. It was a typical road trip out of a movie. The fear was real but it was more thrilling than frightening. 

We encountered an isolated Sadar Bazaar, a large gutter which I thought was a pond and an abandoned route.

In sometime we could spot the traffic and were back on track. We were extremely late, famished yet the misadventures were unforgettable. That is precisely why I could reproduce this day without a hiccup in my memory. I think I speak for all of us when I say that it was worth it. If I had been in the company of some others this probably would not have been a fond memory but in this case everyone involved made this experience memorable. No other fest can be as eventful as Mecca was for us and it is a story we will be narrating for the years to come.

Anecdote #41

Travelling by autos has become a part and parcel of my college life. Both my parents take both the drivers with them to their respective workplaces leaving me on my own to fend for myself. As a school student I was not allowed to take the auto due to my over protective family but they realised that it was practically impossible to arrange the car for me everyday. Thus it began.
Initially I was thrilled because it gave me a sense of freedom but gradually as the seasons changed, going for 8:45 lectures in the morning became harder. The cold breeze and unexpected showers worsened the conditions. 

A plausible solution to this was taking an uber but spending 300 rupees everyday on transport alone was not appeasing to my student budget especially when the quality of the cabs are questionable. Some cabs have their interiors modelling on a temple other times the drivers like playing blaring punjabi music and many refuse to switch on the air conditioner/heaters.

Keeping all this in mind autos seem like the best alternative but here's the catch, the auto as a vehicle is not the problem but the guy whose driving it is.
I have encountered many auto drivers, some are genuinely decent but these rare gems are far and few.
The others, well I have no words for them.
Firstly thanks to Jaitley ji the two thousand rupee has caused a lot of commotion in my life. Each month when I receive my allowance I sincerely pray to God that it doesn't consist of 2000 rupee notes at any cost.
During one auto ride I informed the precariously driver that I had a 500 hundred note beforehand because they tend be very short tempered with respect to this issue. He did not refuse to take me but decided to take a detour and took me to a petrol station to get change . As you may have guessed I was late to class that day. 

Honestly, the worst part is the fear of pick pockets. Every time I spot a man on a motorcycle I clutch my bag close to my heart and experience a mild version of a panic attack. An experience which taught me to be extremely cautious was when I was travelling with my friends and a snatcher came out of nowhere and tried to steal my friend's phone but thankfully the attempt failed. Needless to say he and his friends greeted us with whistles. They were not discrete to say the least.

My coping mechanism is that I am hoping that all these experiences  are a means for my karmic redemption. They sure have taught me to do unto others what you wish others do unto you.

I do realise that  autos can be a pain but cars and drivers are a luxury, despite this you will get sick of the bargaining because let's face it the auto wale bhaiya will never learn. 

At the same time don't worry there will come a time in your life when you will encounter a bhaiya who goes by the meter and you will pay the right price. And I promise you in that moment you will experience sheer, unadulterated joy!