kendeda / nlp afternoons

Spring : Falling in love with winter again

Winter in Atlanta began on my bus stop one November morning as I wore a precautionary sweater to Joel’s class. I could smell the cold in the bus stop air and was immediately transported to my first full winter a couple of years ago.

Fall’s over. Fall break’s done. It’s Spring but it’s colder. The tree at the bus stop now stands bare and naked and on rainy days, clouds loom as if Dementors might appear any moment while the Whomping Willow sways to welcome them.

This semester, I have a class that I can walk to – it’s 10 minutes away and mostly downhill so I walk to class and take the bus back.

I love walking. I walked to a store 1.5kms away and back once and it’s one of my best memories in my entire time here. (Yes, you may judge me if you haven’t already. I get it.)

The straight road connecting my bus stop and the campus has cottage houses on either sides. Most of them appear desolate during the day, like no one lives there. Yet at night the lights go up, during Halloween pumpkins show up and once in a while a stray dirty GT t-shirt is thrown over a chair outside or on the balcony railing.

It’s 12° but the sun is out today and Prateek Kuhad is singing cold/mess about lemon tarts and broken hearts. The houses look empty like they always do with mailboxes on their front yards and I can’t guess when they were opened last.

The dry leaves are already cleared off the roads and the walk, or there’s a guy very closeby doing that with a loud blower. Front yards with green patches returning. Parked cars. Some posh, some ugly.

There’s an open window with bright red curtains and a light inside at 2pm as a young woman takes out a steaming tray from the oven onto the cosy dining table next to a fridge, while her half-dressed-for-office husband puts a drowsy baby to sleep.

But it is very likely it’s an abode of undergraduate students. Tired baggy eyes, gathering assignments and hurriedly packing bags while throwing on the same t-shirt they’ve worn to (different) classes the whole week. Nobody comes out the door though and I walk past the occupants of the haunted house and their busy afternoon.

A board in a balcony says “What’s your biggest dream for Georgia tech?” with a QR code beneath, abandoned after serving its purpose in a sorority meeting or something. 14th street is where most Indians live so I pass by at least one Indian returning home on foot. The layers of hair on my head bounce as I wish I could leave you my love but my heaaaaaaart is a mess.

At the signal a flock of freshmen-looking boys in short yellow shorts jog by and it’s campus already. That’s when I realize I’m Juno again except I’m not 15 anymore, All I Want is You isn’t playing and boys in shorts are just building stamina for their newly-joined team, something I’ll probably never do again.

The green route bus might appear in the frame at this point but NLP is the one class I walk to and hence do not need to repeatedly check the bus location on the app or rush or wait. It’s liberating.

There are university buildings on either sides now. The Bioengineering Systems building with a low wall that I stopped by to rest on the first day of college while returning from bootcamp. I’d seen some students hang around class talking and had made my way back shortly. It was a Sunday (I know right?) and the roads were empty. Google Maps showed 10 minutes to my place as I saw an uphill climb ahead and swore to always take a bottle with me thereafter. I guess I had forgotten what college was like.

The building’s second floor windows have their blinds up, housing racks after racks with coffee mugs and vases and pen holders by the window sill. Desktops on every desk in every building. Lights on. If you pass by at night you’d see the same sight, just more lit rooms and more people at their workstations with desktops on.

At this point my playlist has given way to Masaan. An ID’ed somebody in a blue shirt and slacks rushes out from one of the buildings. He looks like a young professor but might as well be a postdoc, and has just had a lunch he packed from home in foil. He had prepared another for supper.

The postdoc is heading out to meet someone but one can always smile at a kid going to class.
That’s what I like best about being here. I’m a kid, on my way to class.

Or it might be his PhD student’s room after all that I see. A half-eaten sandwich on the desk and lots of jumbled papers. A plant on the sill that was watered late the previous night whenever they remembered to. Or maybe they are actually organized unlike me and have a schedule for it.

Maybe that’s why I don’t keep a plant.

The thing about being warm in the cold breeze and watching trees and skeletons and smiling people is you simply beam whenever the singer goes Tujhe sochoon tho phoot jaatha hoon, whether you currently have a tu to refer to or not. Everyone owns this warm phase of stolen kisses and shy smiles and attempts to catch the other’s attention.
Because this is after all before any of the cold/mess arrived, and I wish Atlanta could see how it breathes life into this song.

I need to stay alert before Ritviz comes on and ruins the mood.


I usually meet Arun or Soumya before every class. There was a nice ECE student that I talked to on the first day and never saw after, maybe he didn’t get a seat and dropped the course.

Honestly it doesn’t matter how fast-track the classes run, I still love them because – well, because.

I get a migraine half-way through the hour on most days because I slept at 4 the previous night and it messes with my brain and looking out the window and/or a screen doesn’t help. But it’s my only class this semester where I do not willfully trance into other thoughts or find myself dabbling in something else while in class.

Yet behind the professor the squirrels jump from one tall branch to another, one bare tree to the other. Skipping back and forth above a sea of fallen red leaves and a lone building behind. They’re quite unlike the plump ones from ISyE or near the Clough Commons – they’re athletic, even lean, with less bushy tails and never landing on the ground, at least two in sight at a time, almost none by the end of class or when it rains. You cannot stop counting after their hopping rears.

Sunlight filters into the class through the ceiling-tall windows onto your shoulders and your laptops and notebooks, and the professor is still teaching and the squirrels still frolicking around the branches. It’s really hard to not have a song playing in your head as this goes on, but I resist.

There must be others in this class of 100+ that have the exact same thoughts as I and are straining to not be distracted, who love this time of the day and this class. Are you in Atlanta? Or are you in a town that drinks four cups of tea a day and uses classic as an adjective?* You never know, there’s only the sun and the bright room and bare trees and bed of leaves and squirrels, seated amidst undergraduates and graduate students. *UCL didn’t want me so probably not London, but you know.

I’ve always imagined a class like this I think. Like back in CET with trees and sunlight and a lot of humidity and young sweat-lined faces all around.

After class I wait at the bus-stop where office employees have a brief meet up, they cheer at each other and ask about a holiday next week. They’re loud and happy to go home at 4, waiting for the bus as the evening sun hugs our coats.

I guess I can fall in love with winter again after all.

PS : I came home one day from class, googled Kendeda and found this.

PPS : I might’ve ruined it for me by writing this post.

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4 years. College.

Note: Specific references may not get across unless you are acquainted with some of the people mentioned.

I’m listening to “Thiruvaavani Raav” and for some reason the only thing that comes to mind is the pretty bespectacled sister from the movie, and Rohit going, “Enthu nalla kuttya alle” as we leave the theatre (of course that’s not really how he put it :P), the others nodding and sheriya’ing in approval. Next on my playlist is probably some other track with some other strings attached. It’s all fine when you’re still in college and have that sudden rush of memories – the subjects in question are always in sight, even when you might want them to momentarily disappear once in a while.

In a few weeks though, the scene would disperse and all that’s left would be cords and contacts.

sree

Apparently Facebook thinks it’s time for deep questions now since college is almost done.  Pretty sure I didn’t learn concentration at CET. Badjoke level  – Bharath. Don’t judge me.

And now to answer this audacious query.

I remember the first day of college like it was yesterday. It was raining in the morning, I wore my navy blue kurta and black jeans, sceptical if I was shabbily dressed for college. I remember how I walked up the steps of Golden Walkway under the umbrella Amma had handed me in the morning with her customary “Kondu kalayalle paru”. I remember smiling at the drenched and dripping trees on either sides of the Walkway that swayed happily in the breeze as if ushering me in. I had one used 200page notebook from school in my bag, there still were many blank pages left. They won’t actually teach on the first day, no? (yes they will, note that Facebook). I wondered if there’d be seniors waiting in class to rag us. I wondered what the subjects would be like, what the teachers would be like, but mostly what the students would be like. And I wondered what Sandhra and Bharath would be like – they were the only ones I had become friends with on FB after orientation day.

I got answers to all the speculation from my first day in class, never mind if they were right or wrong. I rushed home that evening to tell Amma I wouldn’t survive four years in this place. “4 years potte, I won’t survive a month there OK? Nithya AND Gopika are in the other class AMMA”

“Are the kids in your class not nice?”

“The ones I talked to seemed fine. But they’re not KIDS! Not like the ones from school anyway.”

“Well you’re not in school anymore.”

“Onnu kekkuo!? There was this girl Athira from Kozhikode – she’s the first person Haneena and I talked to – Haneena is nice she’s from Palakkad – and she was just talking to us but we thought she was ragging us okay? So rude! AND she’s in my class! ”

“See you already made friends from two other districts” Amma laughed.

“Onnu povuo, then there’s Physics, Chemistry and Maths. Those things were supposed to be over with entrance no? Rest are all basic this, basic that, BME BCE BSC and ABCD”sree(This was a status I put up during first year university. Even design is better than this shit lol.)

“Okay let’s join All Saint’s next year appo Paru can study Arts, mathiyo?”

“BLAH. I wish I were in some other department. ANY other dept”

I went on to complain about my class, that there were way too few people from Trivandrum, and all the nice (by which I really meant FAMILIAR) people seemed to be from here.

Four years past, that conversation turns bogus, and the nicest of all people you meet in the 4years here HAVE to be from Kozhikode.  And the nicest-people-I-met-here list would go something like Athira (from the first day, yes), Divya, Anapi, Roshni, Niranjana, Nidhin, Renjini, Navas, Sreelekshmi,  Lekshmi, Thasni, Ginu, Arjun only because it’s my list 😀 I should probably mention it’s an incomplete one, just in case anybody from my batch is accusingly glaring at my post.

And I can never thank God enough that I didn’t end up in ANY other department, anything to do with circuits would have killed me. Where else would I be expected to dig pits on the ground and have 12th std Chemitry labs and mix concrete using shovels with picture-perfect lab groups that comprise another Parvathy as thin as me for moral support in times of nervous breakdowns, an Oormila for the timely completed rough record, and a Pramod to discuss episodes of Chandanamazha with? 😀

 


 

The first one and a half years of college Nithya and I were busy deriving *cough* inspiration from seniors *cough* (SHE might actually do Civil services, given the quantum of all the inspiration :D), and tagging poor Gopika along everywhere we went. So if anybody had a crush on anybody and it was public knowledge, I never came to know of it until third year. If two from my class became a couple in that time, I never heard of it until third year either. There was Drishti and Dhwani and ICI and lots of running around, everyone was eager to get to know everyone. All occasions from birthdays to buying new chappals were celebrated together in class by all- well obviously not all-, until stuff settled down. By the end of it Nithya/Gopika and I were arguing as to whose class was better lol. Come to think of it, we still do.

Confession: The first time I cried in my entire life for somebody from class being rude to me was in second year. Yes that happened, and Shemeena the pacifier wanted to know if I planned to weep every time somebody decided to shout at me, “It’s up to you to ignore the shit people throw at you, especially when you know it’s shit”. No she never used those many ‘shits’ but it’s pretty much the gist of what she said. The day I truly realized college wasn’t – isn’t – school.

Everyone is different here. Somebody’s idea of awesome is somebody else’s lame. Somebody’s fun is somebody’s boring/outrageous. Somebody’s rude is somebody’s normal, and everybody’s going to unapologetically be themselves, as they should. And if somebody throws shit your way, you could ignore them altogether, or you could just ignore the shit and be cool even if you don’t think they deserve it. It’s not called being fake, it’s called growing up cos you realize everyone’s wired a little differently. But idk what it’s called if you’re smiling at them and solemnly hoping they’d get hit by a truck, I’m not that evil so I wouldn’t know 😛

That was the first and probably the best piece of advice I received in college.

4 years past, a lot has changed. No more shallow small talk and pointless socializing and definitely no more celebrating the new pair of chappals. But I’ve reached the point where the captions from first year #newplace #newfriends #newlife have turned to #amazingpeople #lastfewdays and memories made that will remain.

So Holi will always be a reminder of THIS day 😀sree.png

And Tum Saath Ho will forever be the vocal team comprising Vinaya, Oormila, Niranjana, Roshni, Divya, Revathy and Malu seated on the last bench of S8C1 and almost resolutely singing the song in chorus. I don’t think Malu sincerely put in her efforts though cos it actually sounded good. 😀

Uptown Funk will be Rintu chanting along with Karthik’s stereo, just as passionately as she dances. I would post the Iski Uski clip here, but she’d kill me.

Right Round will be an entire year of putting up with Nithya’s bass voice in S3/S4 and later realizing in S7 that she’s faaaaar better than Athira 😀

I’ve also learnt that the ‘Trivandrum is rude’ isn’t ALL garbage. But for every seemingly rude “Athinippa njan yentho venam” Trivandrumite you meet here, there’ll also be an innocent ever-helpful ever-clueless Malu asking in her unintentionally rough tone, “Enthu patti paaru, thaan inn despa? Njanoru paattu paadi tharanoo?” You see, for every Sankaran with a heavenly voice, you’ll also meet a lot of terrible singers, and Malu would serve their cumulative effect that can cheer up anyone’s bad day. 😀

For every Adarsh who is in love with CET, there’ll be a Raj Govind who wants to burn the place down. I might have contributed at one point of time.

For every Divya who won’t copy during series tests, there’ll be a Puru who cross-references more than two individuals’ answer sheets before settling for the better one.

For every befuddled-looking Allan, there’ll be an Anapi who never stops smiling.

For every quiet Navajoth, there’ll be a Ginu who never shuts up.

And for every Smitha mam, there’ll be a Jiji sir.

For every all-cool Aishu on the project presentation day (she was practically stoned with the Avomine she’d gulped the previous night :D), there’ll be the rest of the super-tensed project team that goes “Engottelum erangi odiyalo?”

For every Structural project group that finishes their work weeks ahead of the presentation, there’ll be Gopika’s team whose project equipment arrives on the evening of the eve.

And for every Ajay/Jasin/Oormila who spent four years at CET learning Engineering and Quantity Surveying and Structural Analysis, there are those of us that studied that tables should be titled at the top and figures at the bottom 😀

The best stories I heard in 4 years were almost always a part of the reserved ones, the ones who wouldn’t get on the dance floor until the lights are off. And the best speech was delivered by the guy who occupied the corner seat in class quietly, and calmly tolerated (and laughed at) the hilarious shit we did in environmental lab.

So I guess there’ll be no more cursing the UG Professor and putting up #submissionsandshit updates on FB customizing the privacy setting to “Hide from Smitha mam”. No more begging teachers to postpone assignments and queuing in front of Latha mam/HOD/Vijayan sir’s room.

No more large groups huddled around the first bench eating Renjini and Shilpa’s lunch and no more deciding between Thalassery/LH food. No more going to #48 in the evening and listening to Sreelekshmi’s stories before practice. And when everything’s done and everyone has packed their bags and vacated their rooms and hugged and said the final goodbyes to catch trains from Trivandrum one last time, I’ll have the songs in my playlist to remind me of 4 years spent together in a place that offered fun as much as freedom, and made everyone laugh and cry and hate and love and sing and dance.

 


 

I remember the first day of college like it was yesterday. I remember wondering if, after 4 years when I step down the Golden Walkway one last time as a student there, I’d be a different person than the kid climbing those treads. If I’d be taller than the stunted figure I was then. If I’d make enough memories and meet the lovely people I’m supposed to meet in these four years. I wondered if the trees would dance in the rain to bid me goodbye, as they did when I met them the first time. But mostly, I wondered if I’d be sad to leave, if 4 years would be enough in this place.

I have the answers now, all of it, I know that the time we get here isn’t enough to take enough selfies for a lifetime. 4 years of sitting next to Athira/Rintu in the third bench of C1 listening to their stories, or stealing minutes between classes to eat vadas at Civil Canteen, or hearing Divya’s “Oru announcement und ellarum keep quiet” – none of it is enough in the end.

And as we’re asked to collect our no-dues, I wish we could ask, “When do next sem classes begin?” just one more time.

 


 

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CET CIVIL 2012-2016 BATCH.

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