Piya Milan Chowk

‘Bhai, PMC mein milna theeke na?’ translates into Brother, meet me at the junction where lovers meet.

And where is this PMC? Well its at the center of my college. And its like the cerebrum of all activity. Its a roundabout before the Admin block which is where all the main college-streets lead to (in some way or the other). And that’s where friends were made, watchmen slept, meetings were held, people were eyed, Girls’ Hostel Buses were parked etcetera.

We were about five thousand students belonging to more than a dozen departments. And PMC was where we’d gather. There were other places – the BBC (Basketball court), the LTC (Lawn tennis court which was actually a chewed-out clay court), Coffee-shop (which is just a tiny stall which sold instant-coffee and junk food to meet varying collegiate needs), Back-Gate (which qualifies to be an adda) and the canteen (where the ground-floor was dedicated to those who actually ate and the first-floor mostly had people who had nowhere else to go and didn’t want to run into the faculty). Oh we did have a library but it wasn’t such a common meeting place unless and until you planned to study (or sleep) in the Annex.

I wonder why I’m writing about it today. Is it because half of the people I met there (definitely not as piyas) have drifted to faraway continents or are in the process to do so? Is it because I will never forget the day my Dad and I walked into the College (well, the never-ending infinity road starting from the main-gate directly leads you to …no reward for guessing…the PMC) and I had finally realised that my twelve years of education led me to this place. Ah, that kid then. Or maybe the pictures clicked there on various ethnic days will never be clicked again (or found – I’m sure I’ve lost most of them in miscellaneous drives), the mosquito-filled evenings we’ve spent waiting for the second bus to pick us up or the fountain that worked only once in a blue moon with its colorful lights. I’m sure most people graduated even without seeing it in all its glory due to its rare usage. Or perhaps I yearn to walk under the ever-spreading canopy of the Umbrella Thorn Trees (at least that’s what I called them and fooled my friends for four long years).

I’ll never meet Aryan in his baggy clothes waiting to meet us whenever he dropped by college. I’ll never see the cute-guys (like one out of five) play basket-ball in the court across the road. I’ll never walk by the juniors waiting for the bus with my troupe of cackling monkey-friends who were probably laughing at some seriously retard joke I must have cracked. I’ll never see Komi fly his balsa wood planes with his team there. I’ll never get to sit there with my friends as we’d see daylight turn to dusk as we’d wait for something else. I’ll never ask the auto-wallah to take a left from PMC to reach my departments, I’ll never run by it with arms-full of sheets with my classmates and I’ll probably never stand in a sari with my two best friends, Rhea and Mouli, clicking our last picture together before our final speeches on behalf of our departments. Ah PMC did hold a lot of meaning in its own way. I will never know why it was named so but I think I’ll never forget the happiness it brought on my face when my friends and I would decide to meet up there to hatch some new craziness after college.

Arrividerci SIT and its survivors.




I’m in Chennai

Enslaved by internet speed and storage-space in mobile phones and devices such. That’s what life has come to. Office got over a while ago but here I am waiting for In Which Annie Gives… to buffer. Yes, that’s what its come to.

So, I thought I’ll visit the space I’ve been meaning to but not getting time (mind frame, actually) to attend to. There’s 8 hours of office and two hours of travel along with 7 hours of sleep. To add to it I joined a short play with well-meaning friends some of whom are serious thespians and actors. I’m just learning, really – experiencing, rather. I was always drawn to the theatre- well, now I’ll really get to know if I make the cut or whether theatre makes the cut for me.

Well if you happen to be in Chennai (or live here) – come catch us live at 7pm  (be there on time because we perform first) – Alliance Francaise, Nungambakkam. Its made with love, really – the other kind, you know. It has a lot of laughter and goof-ups, bajjis and lemon tea behind this play being performed. For me, maybe because of the people I’ve been around with – architects and writers (of sorts) – the Process is always more meaningful than the end. Well that’s what I believe in, for now, because I haven’t really completed anything of importance. Perhaps if I ever get a project (writing, art, audio or whatever) done – I’ll tell you.

Damn, the internet is slow. I’m still here. The office is almost empty.

Well, I hope to see you at the play should you drop by – do say hi. And, I miss my leisurely days, really. And I long  to go back to my hostel-mates and do the things we used to do. I miss my single-bed and the best room-mate, ever who loves cats, books and strangeness alike. We could exist parallel-y, peacefully and interact at a comfortable wavelength without any awkwardness and in these times, that a real miracle, you know. If you happen to read this : I miss you Gurangutan and all our erratic, crazy and lovely times. Making videos, playing with Peter, walking walking walking, eating together, watching favorite movies. You will be my best friend forever – without definition. I hope we stay in touch like our mothers and their best friend in college did. I hope to come there and meet your cats and little brother – go with you to all the places you mentioned. Someday. I have another set of special friends apart from my classmates – the Chicchar Gang. No, I will not translate. Its best left like that. They hailed from Meghalaya, Ranchi and Jamshedpur. And they were my closest friends by the end. I can’t even start telling you our stories. Because, well, not all of them are mine to tell.

Ah, well, Dad inquired why I’m still in office. And its getting dark outside. I must leave now and leave you with patchwork-memories.


Reel Past (Bhopal Chapter)

Bhopal arrived at 2345 hours. The night air was chilly and all of us stepped down the train, bedraggled. I still had some night-cream on my face and my hair stuck out in impossible angles.  While the others scurried away into the bright and lively railway station for a cup of coffee or a warm samosa, I stood by the sign-post that read Bhopal in two different languages. A million memories reeled past me. A fragment of my childhood remained here. And it was high time I returned to, if not collect them, pay them some homage. 

I remember my sister being hardly an year old with just two milk teeth sticking out from the center. Dad was the Officer-in-command at that time and so we had a lush green garden behind our house. And I remember the swing with the floral-cushions; the summer evenings where I’d lay on my back and look up at the sky; collect rocks and leaves; cook at the servants’ quarters on the kerosene stove; the Diwali parties and this incident where some one set the tree on fire, hopefully by mistake. 

I used to be the ultimate Tom-boy or was I more of a solitary reaper who rode her cycle all around the place; enjoyed evening walks with her little sister and sahayak; acted like a bully to hide her loneliness, collected pennies to buy burgers in the canteen; spread Ghost stories about the convent we studied in and God-knows-what-all. 

This was also the phase where the entire family, besides Mum, got admitted with Malaria. Though Rhea’s became very serious and everything. Those were testing times but we triumphed them nevertheless.

I had a room of my own with all these fancy things my Grandparents sent for me. I remember a particularly strict Hindi teacher who smelled of lemons. And an infamous-hitler-like teacher…Mrs. Joy who later turned out to be amazing and wanted to adopt me. Yes, I can be adorable like that.

St. Josephs Convent, Idgah Hills, Bhopal houses some hilarious and precious memories from my childhood. 

My parents would come to see me during the sports day expecting me to be a front runner or athlete. Instead they’d find me in some funny-sports-costume in the Drill. I was never a runner.

Once an Owl and once a Robot, fancy dress competitions were a delight for my parents as they could experiment with my chubby self as they liked. And I was a pretty flexible child. As long as it didn’t prick, I’d wear anything.

This was also the time when Sister Mummy (a dear family friend) came to stay with us and she used to take me to the Sunday Mass every week. And that’s something I distinctly remember. We had to cross all these rural settlements to get their…bustling with kids and street-sellers.

VIP Road alongside the Lake was a great weekend spot and there were some continental restaurants we often visited. And then there was the Sanchi Stupa not too faraway from Bhopal. Even the Army mess was pretty Dapper. I remember bits of it. Dad had also helped build a temple within his office campus and I remember visiting his office quite a lot. Just images left in my head. He’s give me math problems to do while I checked out his stationery items. Kids.

So, I had my fair share of travelling and madness, in Bhopal.

And as the train left the station and I stood by the door…allowing the breeze to gush in, I released whatever feelings I still held back. I wanted to go back to that phase and experience it all, again. As a child.



large (4)The whiff of smoke

from the soot left behind

in your token

enkindles your memories.


The twinge, the pleasure

of remembering your face

and how your words

make life timeless.


I fear the moment when I’d

press my nose against your token

and your scent would

have faded away forever.


So I walked up to the 

 tobacconist for a straight

and he looked at me

with utter astonishment.


I let the shadows of the 

Night hide me as I walked

away with that little stick

clenched between my fingers.


But it didn’t smell like you, yet

It smelled of tobacco

and I needed the grime

And so I thought, deep.


To light it, I’d have to smoke it

And it would become an 

addiction like the one that

was starting for you.


And I needed no more

trouble than I already have

Keeping your thoughts locked 

shut within Pandora’s chest.


So I threw the match-stick away

And placed the cigarette gently

within the folds of my shawl

inside a shelf, away from light.


I cannot have it, because

it does not belong with me.

But I long for it, because it

gives Me a certain meaning.


But it feels better in the hand

of another and all I can do

is allow it to break my reveries

and play with my dreams.


Soon, I’d have to shift my room

And I know the cigarette will fall

off in some unknown corner

out of my sight, and life.


But the person whom

it reminds me of,

will he share the same fate,

and depart from my memories?


Because once in many a

nights in our young lives

do we run into someone who

catches the spark in our eyes.


And every action of theirs

seems to complement

our momentary existence

in their company.


But it is forbidden,

and Him I cannot have.

And so his existence

will turn into reminiscences.


And when serendipity

knocks at my door,

I will hope to find traces of Him

in my harbinger of Love.


From Childhood To The Next Chapter

Bed-computer-girl-headphones-laying-favim.com-443721_largeJuliah – Förlorat mamma pappa & syster | Välkommen till min blogg, babes! Jag heter Juliah och är en glad och spontan brud som älskar livet – även fast jag haft väldigt många motgångar. Jag är 14 år och har förlorat min syster, pappa och mamma vid 3 olika

School’s done with (two months ago) and College is yet to begin (2 months later) so naturally, a kid is FREE …I mean, after 12 whole years (or  more if we count kindergarten and Pre-school)  … a student … now a Young Adult can relish this moment and hold it close to his/her heart.

All those years of waking up early (even in cold winter mornings and rainy days) , getting ready, wearing uniforms (or selecting outfits , much worse) , breakfast, SCHOOL >> Subject classes , FRIENDS , fun , lessons , boring teachers , mischief , detention , canteen mayhem , bedlam in the grounds , basketball , cricket , running around, scribbling on desks , autographs on the lockers , mimicking teachers , playing pranks , fights , heartbreaks , tears , pain , joy , new love , favorite lessons , awesome teachers , GROUP LOL’s , scrapbooking , music …………..

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And then , HOME >> homework , fangirling on twitter , friends on facebook , iPod , books , family , supper , room-cleaning services , clashes with mum over small things , walks with the dof , TV (OMG! Everything from NCIS to SIMPSONS to Drake & Josh to SPONGEBOB to Lizzie McGuire to E!Now to MaterChef to So many more…. we people can go on)

Tumblr_m5jc49we5l1qgydozo1_500_large FacebookWhαt I αm hαppч fσr :)

And then midnight text messaging , gossip , ice-cream from the ref (secretly , of course), iPod, Journal >>> Daydreams and then BED 🙂

thinking, feeling, surviving, believing...schuelerVZ | FotoalbumGoogle Image Result for http://favim.com/orig/201107/14/book-colors-hard-rock-cafe-journal-lens-love-Favim.com-105316.jpg

Didn’t we LONG for weekends when we could hang out with friends at concerts , Malls , McD , KFC or wherever… visit Grandparents , go hiking or JUST SLEEP WITH THE RADIO ON!

TRIVIALPhotos of you XOXO, Sarah-Leigh♥

What did we miss? NOTHING! Everything from the joy of topping the class to the anger in a fight to displeasure of a heart break or the rush of the crazy teenage crush! From sneaking out to parties , trying out make-up at excursions , shopping stuff for best friends and handing it to someone else by mistake, PRANK CALLS on friends, KITCHEN DISASTERS, camping all night , getting caught in the rain , stealing your siblings’ share of cakes, chocolates and ice-cream… Taking funny pictures before the mirror … POSTERS of your favorite stars ALL OVER THE PLACE … dreaming out loud until mother literally has to PUSH YOU OUT AND BRING YOU BACK!

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And then … these 12 YEARS just flew by and suddenly you’re 18 with a new life! And responsibilities and COLLEGE! 

Everybody expects you to grow UP! And sprout out wings and behave real mature! You’re given so much freedom that you’re like, ‘Hey ! Won’t you ask me where I’m going or when I’ll be back?’

And your parents (who’re watching TV)… ‘No, love, we know you’ll be fine’

And you miss the … ‘Be back by 9:00 PM or you’re grounded’ or ‘School Night… you’re SO not going out… dinner is at 7:00 pm’ or ‘No make-up! It makes you look too grown up! You’re still my little doll’ or ‘You can have my car, boy, but Watch It!’ or… well ‘DO YOUR HOMEWORK AND LEAVE THAT iPod / TV/ Computer/Phone !

Eating Chicken &... Tumblr_m2jwr62i7q1qehj79o1_500_thumb_large Victoria's Blog


So that’s how life is now coming to another new chapter for most of us… now its gonna be UNIVERSITY and God knows what all!

But we sure will miss all the fun we had 😀 Crazy teenagers on a mission to go even more crazy 🙂

But that’s childhood 😀 Everything’s forgiven and life is blissful 😀

A big THANK YOU to my friends, family , teachers and EVERYBODY:D You’re the reason I’m here … in some way or the other 🙂

Stay in touch 🙂 Made With Love !

Childhood’s Gift !

Childhood memories are those which we should keep closest to our hearts because, as children… our innocent souls knew only boundless joy and unconditional love!

Those two virtues are golden! And these memories refresh our minds and bring back the Good Times and awakens the Best In You 😀

Before My Eyes

I don’t even Know where you are

Whether you’re near or too far

All I want to see on my Doorstep

is You and your Precious Charm!  

But I’m disappointed every moment

No calls, No replies

No e-mails do come by

Just memories before my Eyes  

We’ve never met before

But I know you, so well

Coz I see you everyehere

And I think of you all the time!  

See you singing before the crowd,

And I’m hoping That one day..

You’ll be singing to me in your arms

Just dreams before my eyes  

I tweet you and about you,

But guess, you’re too busy

You never get to reply

Just hopes Before my eyes…

  Will you think of me, one day..

As you read one of my poems?

Will you come to me with love

When you know…

                                    Mine Is True ?!

Not just one in the crowd,

I am all yours..

If only you know…

Your image swims before my eyes .    

©Shreya Sudesh