Just another day with Abhishek!

This happened in my second year of graduation (2006) when Abhishek lived in Navi Mumbai to pursue Fashion Communication from NIFT. He used to stay in Kharghar.

Abhishek had moved to a new apartment and I was visiting it for the first time. He also had new roommates. Meeting him was something I always looked forward to. Though I did have certain obstacles in doing something that simple and straight forward as it may seem. A crying girlfriend and irregular schedules of both of us were the primary ones. I don’t want to describe the former factor in much detail here. But I am sure all the guys know how girlfriends react when you decide to visit your friend for a day or two who stays close enough to reach by local but still far enough to not be able to meet often. They find it extremely competitive to their position. And add the line “I would be back monday morning” to kill the last few remains of peace in your life. “So you will stay at his place the ENITRE weekend?”…anyways not the point of this post (though would love to cover it soon in another post).

I reach his apartment and the first person I meet is Mahesh followed by Abhishek Palit. “Cool guys” I thought. As we reached his room, he introduced me to Vishwajit aka Vishu. Lean and dark wheatish guy with very sharp features.

“Hi…Vishu” he extended his hand.

“Himanshu” I smiled back.

“Ahh…Himanshu…you know even I have a friend named Himanshu”

“ahmm…that’s interesting….” I replied unsure of what to say next.

Abhishek got lost in doing something while Vishu continued

“Do you play guitar?”

“Nope I don’t” I humbly replied still smiling.

“My friend Himanshu, he is an amazing guitar player”

“Do you sketch or paint?”

“Ahh…no..I don’t sketch” the smile reduced a little.

“My friend Himanshu is brilliant at sketching and painting”

“Do you dance?”

“No I don’t dance” I still tried to act neutral though it was getting a bit annoying now.

“My friend Himanshu has won so many awards for his dancing”

“Do you play football?” (I am stressing hard to remember the name and football is closest I can remember…may be something else but it was a sport)

“I am not a football player”

“My friend Himanshu…”

“is a state level football player” i finished his sentence…

“yes…how did you know that?”

“Not that hard to guess you see”

“And you know what? my friend Himanshu…”

“ENOUGH!” came snarled Abhishek. It seemed he was listening to all the conversation.

“Does your friend Himanshu know photography?”

“No…”

“My friend Himanshu is a very good photographer”

“Does your friend Himanshu know Photoshop?”

“No…”

“My friend Himanshu is expert in Photoshop and all of the designing software” (Today, Abhishek n other NIFTians have turned out to be such AWESOME graphic designers…now when I think of it, that statement doesn’t sound so strong…I am a graphic designer but Abhishek is the ‘master’ in Abobe Master Collection CS5 😀 )

“Does your friend Himanshu know video editing?”

“No…he doesn’t”

“My friend Himanshu does and he is frigging good at it”

“Does your friend Himanshu know web designing n programming?”

“he is an artist..he doesn’t do..”

“MY friend Himanshu was the best at programming in school and he could design flash web pages when most of us didn’t know how to open word. Also, he is very good with computers and gadgets. And there are a thousand more things he can do well…I can keep counting.”

He was serious. Very serious. Pissed off by what had happened. I nudged him to let it be but he continued

“The point here is, every person has got some talent or the other. Everyone is unique. STOP this FUCKING COMPARISON…else I am telling you…it won’t be good….”

Hell he was loud.

Vishu kept quiet. I had never seen Abhishek get so serious about something like this. In fact, he is a person whom I am scared of the most. Because he has this super annoying habit of picking on everything I say and I have to admit, he always manages to find stuff to make fun of me making my life miserable. One chuckle is enough to boil my blood twice in a second. However, if anybody else even tries to pick on me, he can’t tolerate it.

I was so amazed to have witnessed this kind of a conversation. I never thought Abhishek would be so proud of me for all those things he counted.

The environment cooled down soon. Everyone resumed normal conversations. Even Abhishek and Vishu were then talking normally as if nothing had happened. Though Vishu didn’t behave like that ever again. That incident left a deep mark in my memory.

Today when I think of that, I feel so awesome and lucky to have a friend like him. Just a random memory!

Vitrified Ideas completes One year!!

Hello my dear readers,

Today was the day when I had written my first FRUSTRATED blog entry a year back. Since then, life has been a real roller coaster ride with lots of twists and turns, ups and downs, shocks and bumps, laughs and tears. A reflection of which is this blog. I want to thank all those who have been reading my blog regularly and have been giving their valuable comments that have really encouraged me to write more.

I don’t need to mention but my heartiest THANKS to my dearest friends Abhishek, Chaitra, Kasturika, Shruti, Snehal, Sonu and Vishrut. Abhishek has never failed to read any of my stories from the very start. Kasturika always messages me/calls me whenever she reads those old stories (she has read those 1000 times already but still she and Shruti laugh like crazy). Thank you so much guys. You all complete my life.

Also, how can I forget, this blog has given me a very sweet friend, Rashmi who has been a major support (even though haven’t met till date) all this time. I really feel great when I think of all the stories that I have published on this blog. I will continue to write more stories as and when things happen in my life or when I decide to take my readers into a flashback. Wish you all a great year ahead.

Cheers!
Himanshu Dubey

The pen that was never exchanged (or atleast I think so)

“Children, only one hour left.”

Oh man, so less time? What will I do. I gave another look to the amazingly depressed looking question paper. Crap! I didn’t want to solve it. But alas! I knew most of the answers. My conscience will not let me live peacefully if I don’t write things that I know correctly. While I was at war with myself, I heard something.

“Miss, he exchanged his old pilot pen with my brand new pilot pen”

It was Kasturika. She was sitting in the front seat in the next row. I was sitting third from front. We used to give exams with our seniors. They thought this would help stop cheating. Little did they know that seniors are better help than classmates. This guy, about whom she was complaining was also a senior.

“No miss, I did not exchange the pen.”

I was getting distracted now. I was as it is not able to concentrate on my paper. And this girl was shouting on top of her voice.

“Miss it was my birthday yesterday. Himanshu gifted me this pilot pen set. See, this one is new and look at the one I am holding, its scratched. He exchanged his old pen with my new pen. Please get it changed”

She was almost…ALMOST about to cry. The teacher was dam’n confused now. She didn’t know what to do. The pens looked exactly same. She was trying her best to locate even one scratch. Then an idea hit her.

“Himanshu gifted you this pen right? Alright. Call him. He only will decide.”

No, NO….this was what I was dreading. I so much didn’t want to leave my paper and go. But I had to. I got up and reached her desk. I too got really confused because both were brand new pens.

“Its difficult miss. Both are new pens. I gifted her in packed condition. I did see the pen so closely that I can tell.”

I saw all the hope on Kasturika’s face getting lost. I had to do something.

Then I suddenly realized something even worse had just happened. Oh God! I was holding both the pens in one hand. Now I couldn’t make out which one was whose. Brilliant Himanshu! I told myself. There must be some way out. I thought of matching the pen with the other one in the set. Something would definitely look similar.

“Give me the other pen!”

She obediently gave me the other pen of the set. I compared. OH MAN! All of them are new and of the same shade. I still tried hard to find the nearest match as far as the body color was concerned. I gave her a pen and then gave that guy a pen. None of them said anything. I was glad it was over. It took 10mins. Grrrr…..I hate it. I ran back to my seat and finished my paper.

I and Kasturika used to stay in the same colony. And we used to commute to school by a special bus run by PAC for officers’ kids. The pick up point was very near to my house. We all gathered there early morning and got in the bus together.

I was walking towards the bus stop and I could see Kasturika telling something very seriously to Pratyush bhaiya (yes, for a class fifth kid, anyone elder is bhaiya or didi. Moreover, the guy was really sweet). The moment she saw me approaching, she got furious and starting moving towards me. I got shocked (NOW WHAT HAPPENED!!).

“Youuuuuuuuuu….you gave me his pen. I called you so that you can do justice but you too give me that old pen only. Couldn’t you see this pen is so old and scratched. How could you not see? I checked it at home last night and found it to be that guy’s pen. I thought you would be able to see it that which is my pen. But no, you have buttons for eyes! I so much loved my pen. That was my birthday gift. How could he exchange it from me? And you couldn’t do anything!! Now look, my pen set looks so incomplete and weird. Two brand new shiny pens and this…old, dirty, scratched pen.”

And she went back again and started crying. Mummy!! Why do girls start crying so quickly?

I went to her and tried to explain that I couldn’t see a difference so it was very difficult to decide. But who listens to a boy who has buttons for eyes! I even suggested that why don’t you exchange it again today. How does that matter? But NO! She disagreed. Girls I tell you. We heard the bus hooting at a distance and we all prepared to board the bus.

On the way, she was angry for sometime but Pratyush bhaiya and I managed to cheer her up.

Felt bad…

It just happened that I sent a text to one of my closest friends that I got my passport. Not that it was a special message; it was general message in conversation. I got no reply. Today, I spoke to that friend and told him again that I finally got my passport. He (lets just assume ‘he’, though it may not be true, I want to be discreet about it) snapped me saying, “I know but big deal, mujhe to koi aisi khaas khushi nahi ho rahi yeh jaan ke. While reading your message also, it came to my mind, what should I do….yeah, so what should I do”. I was kind of speechless. I was definitely not expecting this kind of a reply. I mean AM I ASKING YOU TO DO ANYTHING?? 

 

I also know, what is so big about it? Passport?? Well, everyone can get a passport. Its not that I got into PRINCETON or HARVARD, its just a passport. I any case had to get it sometime. But then for me, its a small step towards my dream. It marks a beginning. It makes me realize that I am moving ahead, there is some progress. Talking about how does it matter? Or what should one do?? Well, nothing. Nobody needs to do anything. I have got my passport, I will get my college acceptance letter, then visa, then tickets and finally I will go. Then I will study, upon completion of my course, I will look for projects, assignments, (JOB to be simple). Nobody has to do anything for me to do all these things. And I don’t need to share any of my progress with anyone. I have even lost the whole purpose of why am I writing this?

 

What is the whole point of being friends when your friends have to snap you that SO?? WHAT SHOULD I DO?? DANCE?? Instead of sharing that little joy. Its just that when we achieve something, let it be something really small, petty, silly, we like sharing it with our best friends. That hooting “ooooohhhhhh…….kya baat hai!!” or “Cool man!” is all that we expect. If we see it technically then nobody has anything to do with anyone. We all can peacefully live independently without sharing any bit of our lives, thoughts, experiences. But that is not how humans live. Humans have this gift of expression, of sharing, of celebrating.

 

I didn’t know what to say. I went silent over the phone. He asked me, “Hey what happened?? Why did you suddenly go serious and all?” but I didn’t have any answer. I lost the whole point of conversation. Luckily some work came up right at that moment and I got an escape from the phone call. But it was going on in my head all throughout this evening. I finally couldn’t stop myself from writing about it. I wanted to vent it somewhere. It’s that I love that friend of mine ALOT!! And this thing is not really going to change anything, its not going to affect anything. But I needed to share it.