Happy Memories.

I was sitting in my room. Its not much to look at. Its a small room. A table with my books, a cupboard, my bed. But its my room. It just hit me that I've spent most of my life here in my house in Agra in this room. My dog spent most of his life in this room. My dog died a few days back. My big house feels even bigger now. Thats kind of strange, you know. And a bit sad. Because I'm pretty sure that my room's getting smaller.

My room. I see books from my college book bank lying around. Books on software engineering, compiler design. Books on Java and other software programming languages. There was a time when I just couldn't find these books when I needed them. I was in school. And apart from the occasional physics or chemistry book, my room was filled with novels of all shapes and sizes. The City of Djinns. My first Dalrymple. Of course, Dan Brown was all the rage back then. Legal thrillers by Grisham. Check. The Lord of the Rings. Check. The Hobbit. Check. I had a copy of the brilliant, brilliant Glimpses of World History. Written by Pt.Nehru, it was a gift from my grandfather. Colorful books by Scholastic that had glossy pages. I had a boat load of those books.

Then there were the comics. Archie Andrews. Veronica Lodge. Betty Cooper. Jughead Jones. I grew up with them. I had hundreds of those. I remember my mom gifting me a book on Microsoft. All bought from my beloved Modern Book Depot in Sadar Bazar.

I don't know how and I don't know when. But sometime in between school and college, reading just took a backseat to other things. I stopped spending the amounts I used to spend on books.

For some reason, I just sat around today. Not doing anything. Just thinking about my life at school. St.Pauls Church College. It was such a great time spent there. My Principal, my friends, my teachers, my class. Those picnics, those plays, those morning assemblies, those events. Thinking about my school always cheers me up. And while I'm sure that a lot of you will disagree with me, but I don't think that most students are as attached to their school as we Paulians are.

I remember all the things we did. That trip to Manali was epic. That little play in the Dramatics club where we had Wasan play the role of a freedom fighter was hilarious. I even tried my hand at handball and sung in a choir. Those little bunks at school. That fun at chem. lab. The bloody beakers were free of cost. We tasted a lot of them chemicals so that we could successfully identify them without precipitating or any other such fuckery. That year when we had our picnic inside our school. That dance with my seniors inside my class which led to the shattering of all window panes. That loony cabinet. The books at the book fair, the soft drinks in the parlor. The fight for the music request stall and the picnic in class XII. Those little wooden chairs and tables and that last bench. The Sports Week. Yellow House relays. Navdeep. Pappu. That German girl. The Rahul Memorial. Independence Day speeches of the headboy and the headgirl. That area around the back gate. Kaka and Dreams'. Swimming at Clarks Shiraz.  Quiz at Conrads, science exhibition at Georges. Being turned away from the fete at Patricks'. The pretty dull Peters' fete. The class parties. The trips to Agra's first McDonalds'. The reunion at Pizza Hut. The lotto at Agra Club. Trips to the Taj Mahal and the Fort. That trip to Fatehpur Sikri. Teachers' Day at St Pauls. That video. Tuitions at Ma'am Singh and Yogesh Sir. Those get togethers at Danny's Place and Prem Food Court. Blackjack at the Taj Nature Walk. Those dances at the fetes. Our wonderful auditorium. Brijesh. Mahender. Our weekend early morning trips for coffee at Sadar. Those long summer vacations of ice cream and movies.

So many things. So many years. I can write a book. And that blog in what I call the twilight year (not years).

Back then I had innocent posts like this one. :-) . May not seem much now, but made a world of difference in those years. I've known most of my friends since we were little kids. Paulians forever.

I'm going to Delhi in a day or two. Much needed relief. I'll probably go and spend some time at the Teen Murti Bhavan in the hot sun. People will think I am mad but then, people are unaware of the great sense of calm I feel when I'm there. I remember the previous time I was there. When you enter the Teen Murti Bhavan, there's a kind of a stone monolith on your left or right (I don't really remember).

It has Nehru's speech etched on it. The one he gave when India became free. The last time I was there, I was dying from thirst and just couldn't appreciate that structure. I just gave it a quick read and made a mental note to revisit that monolith. I never did get the chance to go there again. Until now.

I should thank myself for writing this post. I'm feeling better already. Repect dear Alma Mater. Respect. Lots of memories attached to you.