I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none - Macbeth
My memories of my life in Delhi, though vague, are a regular feature of my nostalgic process.
I lived in a suburb called Mayur Vihar, on the banks of Yamuna and had my school(Somerville) in Noida. Everyday I had to carry a truck load of books, wear an overcoat cos it was winter and hear my grandfather saying "Cmon big guy, jog in the fog". And by the time you reach the banks of Yamuna, puffing and panting to catch the bus, it would have left. I would curse the situation(Bunk school??). No way. Now it would have to be my grandfather's Bajaj. I just love my school bus sleeps. BIG BOYS DONT SLEEP.
One day the bus which normally takes me to sleep(oops school) met with an accident, it overturned. The lazy guy I am I dont normally take off my bag while going to sleep. Picture this! On top of me was this bag, on top of which was a broken seat on top of which was a gal relaxing and whispering for help. I was squealing at the top of my voice. I reached for my hand somehow and started beating the gal above me left and right which made her shout for help. After the heroic way out, I saw everybody crying. I had a few bruises as well. But I had another concern. I was looking for my class teacher. Where was she? Yeah! I found her. There she was. Ma'am, ma'am!!! Are you hurt, Barat? Ma'am, should we still goto school?
I found her in the van seated in a corner, still crying. Was she hurt or was it because my hand graced her body a little enthusiastically( ok...fine....beat her). This was going to be my very first act of chivalry. I went and sat beside her. She looked at me. I couldnt look at her. She showed me her elbow and said its paining. I gave her a smile of vindication.I didnt do it. She touched my elbow and asked me doesnt it hurt for you. It did badly. Why arent you crying? No, BIG BOYS DONT CRY. Her name was Miss M.
Mayur Vihar, is divided into pockets and each pocket has a playground attached to it. I loved playing cricket there because I really sucked at it. You could score a zero and the cutie pie would never know. My first attempt to ride a bicycle was there as well. There was this close friend of mine I used to hate cos he was good at cricket, looked cool and the next door cutie pie seemed to like him and not me. He would always challenge me to a game of cricket and the man I am I wouldnt refuse. It would be a 2 man game with her looking out from her house. The winner would be invited inside her house for Roohafsa(pardon the spelling - a summer drink). I would cry that I lost and usually chose building corners to vent them out. One of those days Miss M actually saw me crying and walked upto me and asked me "But you said Big Boys dont cry?" I wiped my tears off and smiled "YES. BIG BOYS DONT CRY." Its just some dirt that had gone into my eyes while playing.
There was a big crowd. It was a funeral. I didnt know back then. People were crying. Some anxious. I was confused. People didnt tell me what happened. I couldnt understand. One of my uncles walked upto me, lifted me up, gave me a five star and told me. "Dont worry son, your dad will be with you always." BIG BOYS DONT CRY. What are you talking about? Its the fire and smoke thats hurting me. And yeah whats up with Dad!!!I was just 8 years old.
It has been 17 years since then. I am a BIG BOY now. I dont know what transformed me then, but I grew along to become an atheist and a loner. With a grudge against the unfairness meted out to me by Him, I swore to myself I'll rewrite my own fate. Not wanting to take anybody's help, add to my mom's concern and show an apparent weakness, I learnt everything the hardway meeting a lot of failures. With a strong sense of logic and rationale, I removed the emotional quotient out of every equation and tackled all my difficulties easily.Professionally, I call myself successful. I might not be from a world class institute, not even comparable to the best brains, but I can shape my career the way I want to, talk myself out of any situation, talk myself into any situation. People call me intelligent, people call me stud. They say I have good grasping powers. People come to me for help and advise. When they ask me how I handle failures in a mature way, I tell myself why not. I have seen it all. I am a BIG BOY. WHY SHOULD BIG BOYS CRY? I have never.
They say a man cannot be happy both personally and professionally. I wanted to prove it wrong. I have always believed that to be successful one needs to have a strong value system and the courage to be true to it. I have tried to help anyone and everyone in need irrespective of their gender and age. I have had the guts to be honest and outspoken most of the times. People come to me with problems and I make them see sense. I advise people on relationships though have never been in one. BIG BOY DOESNT CRY. I wanted a change. I had seen it all. I wanted to move out of my house, see the world. That is when I moved into a business school.
It was a long walk down the PPO road in solitude. The dazzling reflection of light down her curves made it look sensuous. But insensitive to sensuality and lost in my thoughts, I was in deep introspection of the year that had passed. It is just amazing how the whole world has changed in an year. Over the 25 years, never once have I questioned my convictions. I have answered situations through my convictions. This past one year, every situation has questioned my conviction. I suddenly find myself lost in a jungle. I have never felt more afraid to speak out my mind. People seem to be talking amongst themselves and I have to read their message from the expressions they give me and sometimes go behind them as well. When I came here people mockingly welcomed me to the "civilised world". Yet in this past one year, I have heard sober comments and seen some sober actions that I wouldnt have even imagined when am frustrated and sloshed. In a period of one year, I have earned adjectives like arrogant, dominant, egoistic and some censored. Gimmicks about my physical appearance, have become pronounced to such an extent that it leaves some bad taste. Comments on size, style, hair, eyebrows have made me wonder and wanting to ask - Is there any part of my body which is actually acceptable? I have never reacted to criticism and taken jokes in the most lively manner that could be called nothing short of self-mockery. But this seems to be a world focussed on a tailor-made value system, diplomacy and physical appearance - all but a shallow crust of the rock of character.
People there call me a non-conformist and people here dont allow me to be a conformist. Where do I belong? Whenever I feel low, my sense of rationale and logic step in for a situational analysis of the problem. Today as I deal with a problem for which I know no solution exists and a fear that the only way out is surviving this, I yearn for company, for friendship, for love. I reach out into emptiness. I suddenly want to believe in God. I want to believe in emotions. I want to relate with people better. Amidst all the criticism am subjected to, the hope fuelling my life is a friendship or a love that can give me a hug, like me for what I am, how I am and why I am, tell me am a good and a true friend. If I have put my thoughts in a simple manner today, its not a conscious, but a choked attempt. My emotions have choked my flow of thoughts and words. WHY CANT BIG BOYS CRY? BIG BOY WANTS TO CRY!!!
Signed, Barat Ramkumar
My memories of my life in Delhi, though vague, are a regular feature of my nostalgic process.
I lived in a suburb called Mayur Vihar, on the banks of Yamuna and had my school(Somerville) in Noida. Everyday I had to carry a truck load of books, wear an overcoat cos it was winter and hear my grandfather saying "Cmon big guy, jog in the fog". And by the time you reach the banks of Yamuna, puffing and panting to catch the bus, it would have left. I would curse the situation(Bunk school??). No way. Now it would have to be my grandfather's Bajaj. I just love my school bus sleeps. BIG BOYS DONT SLEEP.
One day the bus which normally takes me to sleep(oops school) met with an accident, it overturned. The lazy guy I am I dont normally take off my bag while going to sleep. Picture this! On top of me was this bag, on top of which was a broken seat on top of which was a gal relaxing and whispering for help. I was squealing at the top of my voice. I reached for my hand somehow and started beating the gal above me left and right which made her shout for help. After the heroic way out, I saw everybody crying. I had a few bruises as well. But I had another concern. I was looking for my class teacher. Where was she? Yeah! I found her. There she was. Ma'am, ma'am!!! Are you hurt, Barat? Ma'am, should we still goto school?
I found her in the van seated in a corner, still crying. Was she hurt or was it because my hand graced her body a little enthusiastically( ok...fine....beat her). This was going to be my very first act of chivalry. I went and sat beside her. She looked at me. I couldnt look at her. She showed me her elbow and said its paining. I gave her a smile of vindication.I didnt do it. She touched my elbow and asked me doesnt it hurt for you. It did badly. Why arent you crying? No, BIG BOYS DONT CRY. Her name was Miss M.
Mayur Vihar, is divided into pockets and each pocket has a playground attached to it. I loved playing cricket there because I really sucked at it. You could score a zero and the cutie pie would never know. My first attempt to ride a bicycle was there as well. There was this close friend of mine I used to hate cos he was good at cricket, looked cool and the next door cutie pie seemed to like him and not me. He would always challenge me to a game of cricket and the man I am I wouldnt refuse. It would be a 2 man game with her looking out from her house. The winner would be invited inside her house for Roohafsa(pardon the spelling - a summer drink). I would cry that I lost and usually chose building corners to vent them out. One of those days Miss M actually saw me crying and walked upto me and asked me "But you said Big Boys dont cry?" I wiped my tears off and smiled "YES. BIG BOYS DONT CRY." Its just some dirt that had gone into my eyes while playing.
There was a big crowd. It was a funeral. I didnt know back then. People were crying. Some anxious. I was confused. People didnt tell me what happened. I couldnt understand. One of my uncles walked upto me, lifted me up, gave me a five star and told me. "Dont worry son, your dad will be with you always." BIG BOYS DONT CRY. What are you talking about? Its the fire and smoke thats hurting me. And yeah whats up with Dad!!!I was just 8 years old.
It has been 17 years since then. I am a BIG BOY now. I dont know what transformed me then, but I grew along to become an atheist and a loner. With a grudge against the unfairness meted out to me by Him, I swore to myself I'll rewrite my own fate. Not wanting to take anybody's help, add to my mom's concern and show an apparent weakness, I learnt everything the hardway meeting a lot of failures. With a strong sense of logic and rationale, I removed the emotional quotient out of every equation and tackled all my difficulties easily.Professionally, I call myself successful. I might not be from a world class institute, not even comparable to the best brains, but I can shape my career the way I want to, talk myself out of any situation, talk myself into any situation. People call me intelligent, people call me stud. They say I have good grasping powers. People come to me for help and advise. When they ask me how I handle failures in a mature way, I tell myself why not. I have seen it all. I am a BIG BOY. WHY SHOULD BIG BOYS CRY? I have never.
They say a man cannot be happy both personally and professionally. I wanted to prove it wrong. I have always believed that to be successful one needs to have a strong value system and the courage to be true to it. I have tried to help anyone and everyone in need irrespective of their gender and age. I have had the guts to be honest and outspoken most of the times. People come to me with problems and I make them see sense. I advise people on relationships though have never been in one. BIG BOY DOESNT CRY. I wanted a change. I had seen it all. I wanted to move out of my house, see the world. That is when I moved into a business school.
It was a long walk down the PPO road in solitude. The dazzling reflection of light down her curves made it look sensuous. But insensitive to sensuality and lost in my thoughts, I was in deep introspection of the year that had passed. It is just amazing how the whole world has changed in an year. Over the 25 years, never once have I questioned my convictions. I have answered situations through my convictions. This past one year, every situation has questioned my conviction. I suddenly find myself lost in a jungle. I have never felt more afraid to speak out my mind. People seem to be talking amongst themselves and I have to read their message from the expressions they give me and sometimes go behind them as well. When I came here people mockingly welcomed me to the "civilised world". Yet in this past one year, I have heard sober comments and seen some sober actions that I wouldnt have even imagined when am frustrated and sloshed. In a period of one year, I have earned adjectives like arrogant, dominant, egoistic and some censored. Gimmicks about my physical appearance, have become pronounced to such an extent that it leaves some bad taste. Comments on size, style, hair, eyebrows have made me wonder and wanting to ask - Is there any part of my body which is actually acceptable? I have never reacted to criticism and taken jokes in the most lively manner that could be called nothing short of self-mockery. But this seems to be a world focussed on a tailor-made value system, diplomacy and physical appearance - all but a shallow crust of the rock of character.
People there call me a non-conformist and people here dont allow me to be a conformist. Where do I belong? Whenever I feel low, my sense of rationale and logic step in for a situational analysis of the problem. Today as I deal with a problem for which I know no solution exists and a fear that the only way out is surviving this, I yearn for company, for friendship, for love. I reach out into emptiness. I suddenly want to believe in God. I want to believe in emotions. I want to relate with people better. Amidst all the criticism am subjected to, the hope fuelling my life is a friendship or a love that can give me a hug, like me for what I am, how I am and why I am, tell me am a good and a true friend. If I have put my thoughts in a simple manner today, its not a conscious, but a choked attempt. My emotions have choked my flow of thoughts and words. WHY CANT BIG BOYS CRY? BIG BOY WANTS TO CRY!!!
Signed, Barat Ramkumar
3 comments:
Nice post.. :)
Quite senti dude !!
Well after reading this I had tears in my eyes !!
Who said BIG BOYS DONT CRY :D
wonderful writeup....true frm heart..:)
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