MY life...
20 years ago I met my dad for the first time in the arms of a young nurse, my dad looked at me proudly. He knew i was the Perfect son the moment he looked at me, he knew he will make him proud one day.
20 years on and he still waiting for that day
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I grew up in that family where in every 5 years they would land up in a new city. I remember spending my early years in Calcutta. I was a smart kid according to my mother. I got good remarks from my kinder garden teacher and had a reputation of being a naughty kid. I remember breaking a tube light in the drawing room and beatings later…
But I was a darling of my parents, a ‘star of their eyes’ as most of us northies would say in Hindi.
After 5 years we left for Vishakhapatnam, a beach city in the east of Andhra. I was enrolled in D.A.V school where I did my first and second class. We had this teacher who taught us Hindi, It was my mother tongue yet I scored badly in it. The ‘matras’ never made any sense. The teacher was always hard on me. He with his wooden scale ever ready to beat me. My math madam was no better. From the day one I hated maths.
It was like a mystery. Two numbers, entirely different from each other joined together to form a new number. Same with subtraction. For me there were better things in life than maths. We had a huge play ground where all kinds of different plants grew. We had mangoes, coconuts and neem trees on which we’d climb in our recess. We would hunt for insects, play with stones and sand. Maths was indeed very boring.
My results were never good. Always below average, my father was puzzled. How can his son score so bad in his studies? My father took the matter into his hands. Every evening after his office he would teach me maths and Hindi. He taught me the funda behind maths, Taught me how to write proper Hindi. But I never understood.
In my third standard I was shifted to D.P.S Vizag. It felt just like the day it did on my first day to school. I was a stranger, in the class full of strangers. I kept to myself on my first day but soon enough I made new friends. We ate together, shared our ‘Tiffin’ and pencils. In DPS I was introduced to a new subject “Drawing” and the kind soul who taught us was Mr. Edwin, and unlike my previous maths and Hindi teachers he was good to me, and He never scolded me. He taught me how to draw, shade and color, and for the first time I was better at some thing form my friends. Soon I was addicted to art. My sketches from random gibberish to decent drawings became better. Soon all of my sketch books filled up and I started drawing behind the notebooks. But I was still no better in my maths. It became more complicated, we had ‘real’ numbers and then ‘whole’ numbers.
Soon odd, even, fractions numbers came up. Do we have unreal numbers too? I wondered.2 was a real number, also an even number! But 3 being a real number and next to 2 was an Odd!! How odd indeed .I had very frustrating questions in my exams which made no sense to me. If 20 mangoes cost 50 rs, how much one mango will cost? Fucking ask the guy who sells it.
And when maths was getting into my nerves, came along ‘telegu’ the language of the locals. I was supposed to learn this language and was expected to speak in it during the telegu class. Nee pairenti? Naa peru Chitransh, nee pandi kukka! Telegu exams were long and lengthy as I always finished my papers in just 5-10 mins ever waiting for the bell to ring. I never knew the answers.
Our 5 years in Vizag were over and it was Shifting time.
In Delhi I was enrolled in KV. The Kendriya Vidyalaya. And the reason I joined this school was I was refused add mission in ASN public school, a swanky school near my home due to my bad results in 5th. My parents were pissed off.
But I had no regrets. I was in a new school, new city and a new home. I had new friends and sadly enough new subjects in school. Although I was good in science and geography, they grew harder. Just like good friends who drift away whey they loose interest. Some how I managed to pass my sixth. 7th even tough being my lucky number was no better. My enmity with maths grew even more. Some how I managed to do good in geometry but algebra was still a bitch. We had a sir who taught us Sanskrit. To me Sanskrit was the meaner elder sister of Hindi(and it really is!)the script was same but the language was different. Twam kim karouti? Mum Sanskrit mey dimag ki band bajoti . But our Sanskrit sir was a good man. He knew the importance of Sanskrit in modern India is nil so he ignored my pathetic Sanskrit and gave me generous amounts of marks.
In 8th I had my first crush, she was one of the sweetest girls I ever met, and she always had a smile on her face and dimples on her cheeks. But when ever I tried to talk to her I’d loose my voice. All I could do was stammer and she thought I was mentally challenged…
But by the end of the yr she was mine. She called me her “sweetest bestest friend” I knew she liked my company like anything.
But very soon my love story went into gutters. We had to pack our bags; we were heading for Bombay now!
In Bombay I joined GHS, Gokuldham high school or the Gokul municipality school as I used to call it. Same old circle began new friends, new city, new home and new faces. My 9th year in GHS went form bad to worse, In studies I was all time low. my exams were worse than ever, I knew I had no chance of clearing my 9th. But then inspired by the seniors from the KV, I took a short cut.
I cheated.
I made chits for maths exam, tons of em. I hid them in all kinds of places. Under my belt, below my watch, in the boy’s toilet, inside pens (yes I did that!) and finally got caught. The lady who caught me, Miss Dalvi stood proudly over me with my chits in her hands just like a hunter does when he kills a helpless animal. She called the vice Principal Mrs. Butch who took me to her office and called my mom.
It took mom approx 30 mins to reach the school, and those 30 min were the longest in my life. She went straight in to the vice principals cabin and came out 10 min later. We went home quietly, had our lunch. Mom went back to her chores and I sat on my study table wondering what to do. In the evening when my dad came he informed me that I had to repeat my ninth again.
I still wonder did he ever imagine this day when he saw me the first time.
My ninth for the 2nd time was more frustrating for me. And I was now no more a kid. I was growing up and was in my teens. The testosterone made me more reckless, angry and rebellious. My hatred for maths reached a higher level. I no longer cared to study, let alone get decent marks. Soon the finals came up and I surprisingly passed it. I jokingly called it “meri 2 sall ki mehenat!”
It was after my ninth exams when I started smoking. An old friend of mine came for a visit, we went out and he took out a cigarette. First time when I smoked a cigarette I coughed like a TB patient but after 3-4 puffs I got the ‘kick’ it felt my like my legs couldn’t support my weight, and after a very long time I felt happy.
In my 10th my dad left for Nigeria, he got a very good job in one of the many steel plants owned by Mr. L. Mittal. And for the first time, I was the eldest male in the family.
I had more freedom, mom couldn’t control me now. I was a ‘bad’ boy now. I smoked pot. I did what I pleased. But at the same time I had to study. As my Board exams came nearer I started admiring Roger waters lyrics…
We don’t need no education!!
To say I got very poor marks in my 10th boards would be very unfair, as what ever I got I worked hard for it.
To comment that in my college I became what I am now would be correct.. I got into Junior college through management quota, and like numerous times before made new friends…
First day of my college was a very interesting day; it was also the day when Bombay experienced the most heavy rain fall ever. Almost entire Bombay got flooded and i got stuck in the college and had to swim half way to reach home.
Studies in jr college was tougher than ever, now we had new subjects Biology, Physics and chemistry. Biology became my friend and physics-chemistry became my new enemies. And as ever, I struggled with maths.
Weed and Pink Floyd were created to make people experience heaven. And I did it when ever I wanted. I properly and regularly started smoking pot.
By the time I reached my SYJC, I was total weed stoner high on PF. And thanks to them my studies were totally neglected, for me maths, physics, chemistry were a jumble of non sense which never interested me.
How many atoms are there in a molecule of water?
I don’t know, I don’t care.
Sadly enough, my 12th boards came faster than expected, and results were totally unexpected. My father came back from Nigeria 2 days before my results, which was unexpected. And on the same day he caught me and my weed. It was like I was caught with a whore on bed. As far as I can remember he never looked so scary, my joint was taken away form me, broken in front of my eyes and then I was given a hour long lecture on “how dangerous this thing is” and to make the matters worse I had my results coming up in two days. I desperately prayed for good marks and I knew god would hear me and help me out.
I flunked in maths, physics and in chemistry!
I bet god was tripping when I prayed to him.
