The best way to start this would be with a flowery piece of poetry. However, I'm very bad at it, and so wouldn't give it a shot. I will talk about poetry though. Poetry in Motion, that is. Yes, I have been following this form of poetry since 1992.
Well, this is my story about a story, which will forever be etched in history. OK, I'm talking about my inspiration, my idol and my GOD, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Yes, nothing new or unusual, he means to me what he might mean to millions of others. That makes this even more so important.
Today, when he has broken all possible batting records, I won't be talking about his achievements. Everyone already knows that. Being the self-centered person that I am, I would talk about how he has effected my life, and 'I' represent millions of people.
I first watched Sachin against zimbabwe, in the 1992 World Cup. He had scored a half century. I obviously had no interest in cricket at the age of 6, but somehow, sachin's batting was a visual treat even then. Obviously, as I got older, I wanted to be a cricketer, like everyone else. And I copied Sachin's style, copying his stance in front of the mirror. And, with time, without my realisation, I became Sachin. Yeah, I was Sachin. Everytime he went out to bat, it was as if it is me out there. His failures were mine, and his success too. Infact, sometimes, scoring a 90% in Science meant the same as Sachin scoring a century. On his off days, it was hard for me to eat, or sleep. Yeah, as if I was Sachin himself. And that part of me still exists, if only to a lesser extent. Infact, there was a time when I wished my parents had named my Sachin, and I even wished I had curly hair. It was amazing, at that time Sachin's record was not extra-ordinary. Yet, I followed him like mad, and so did others. Its like I can relate every incident of my life with a Sachin Moment.
Still remember his 1st ODI century, on a soggy outfield in Colombo, against the Aussies, in the Singer Cup. Obviously, he didn't look back since. I watched that match at my maternal grandparents' home.
So, when I call him God, its not wrong. He has been my inspiration throughout. And for how do you know the clay idols you worship even exist or not... I know for sure that this idol of mine not only exists, but makes his presence felt...

Thank you for the wonderful moments!!!

OK, here's the deal. I've found out that no one really reads my blog. I spend hours typing away for nothing. So, I guess, I'll use this as a personal diary, since no really reads it. I'll vent out my frustrations, and share moments of joys, with my "Secret Diary". In case you are reading this and wondering about the 100 odd visitors, they are all me, I mean I visit this blog regularly (unlike you or any others). So, taking a breather from the story, I'll write about my experience in the past few days.
Well, the significant event this week was my visit to the dentist. I had thought of naming the title "Dentist the Tormentist", but "Tormentist" is not a word (Tormentor is the correct word, in case you were wondering). Anyways, I was very nervous going to the dentist to get my Root Canal Treatment done. Initially, they were going to use a syringe for the Anesthesia of the gum region. From past experiences of Anesthesia, I had "faint" memories, as it had left me "numb". (Seems the guys from Linkin Park have regular visits to their dentist). Anyways, to my surprise, a beautiful lady came up to me with a syringe, and said, "Don't worry, it won't hurt". She was the doctor! Wow, she was hot, and in her doctor attire, she looked, what was the word, yeah, "kinky". And guess what it, it didn't hurt. I was left mesmerised, and so was my gum and tooth region (due to the injection).
Anyways, luck soon ran out, and so did the electricity in the Doc's chamber. And when it came back, it was her husband's (who is also a dentist) turn to do his "drills". It was a horrifying experience, as he kept "playing on my nerves". Actually, he had a driller and he made a hole and removed the nerves connected to the tooth, thus pacifying my pain. But it didn't hurt, only the thought was disgusting. And a while, he asked me to spit out the blood. As I spat, he took out his spat-tulla and did something with it, I don't remember. After an hour or so, I was done, and I finally came out a relieved man and was very "sa-teeth-fied". So, my Canine is Fine!

So, will end this blog soon (not so fast). Must thank Zaheer Khan for his great performance with bat, ball and microphone. He was really funny at the press conference yesterday. Was very heartening to see the "fab Four" still putting up a fight. Sachin rules, and so does our Dada. Will be heading back to college tomorrow morning. So, untill then, goodbye, and yes, my story will resume.
Keep Blogging!

8 months and 109 slaps later, the caterpillars were given the wings to fly, by our 'generous' seniors. It was an April night, and all of us were asked to assemble at the hall 4 terrace (that's where the final years stayed, that's where we stay now, ironically). We knew this was our last last time. And then the moment arrived, one of the seniors, after his speech, announced, "You are Free". Those three words can give any other combination of 3 words in the English Language, a stiff competition. We all hugged, everyone, all the bitterness evaporated. It all seemed like a new world now, a new planet. Funny, we were all enlightened in near pitch darkness. Yes, It was a happy ending. Oh, wait, ending??? It was the beginning....
The next morning I had to pinch myself to make sure everything was for real. Yes, all of us from 'Bongaon' zone dressed up their best, and went to college, feeling as if we owned the place. (Oh, yes, by the way, that is the name of our zone, 'Bongaon Zone', no, the 'Royal Bongaon Zone', is, and always will). The freshers party followed, it was at Durgapur House. The seniors were all strangely different that day, so much so, that I forgave them for all their sins in a moment. And yes, later there was alchohol, that too in plenty. The 'drinking sessions were held at Hall 3 mess, and I complied with my policy of 'no drinking, no smoking'. Inspite of being forced, I did not drink. Chimpu was funny as usually, drunk with a neck brace. The GPL competition followed, and we, the first years, were 'Welcomed to the College'.
PS: I carried a drunk Souvik Ray back to his room, and tried to control all the other drunk people. I thought to myself, "This is disgusting, why do these morons drink?"

We would all return to college after the pujas, expecting a reception that I would not particularly be fond of. It was the very first night after the return to college. It was an event that would change my perceptions towards life (in general) forever. This senior comes up to me and dislocates me from my "comfort zone" (only those who know me would understand the pun). What followed was "Baptism by Fire", as put by one Avishek Ray.
Well, here's the scenario:
NIT Durgapur (former RE College) was famous for 'Ragging', among other things. The whole thing was executed as an 'Organised Crime', like the mafia, or a terrorist organisation. (Mind you, these were my thoughts in the winter of 2005, but I still stand by most of them). And yes, the system (the Ragging system that is) was almost impeccable (I'm talking 2005, again). The whole student fraternity was divided into zones (some called it 'Family', lovingly). Each state was a zone. But Bengal being the home state, had 50% of the population. So, Bengal was further divided into small pieces. Thus, the 'organised crime' was really organised. Each senior from a zone would take care of its juniors, and thus a vicious cycle.
As luck would have it, I would land up in a zone that’s a bit too 'violent', to put it mildly. The seniors were all 'cheeky', thus our cheeks would always bear their brunt.

Anyways, back to my story (yeah, true story), I was asked to visit the seniors hostel, and when I returned, my friends and I, all were astonished at my facial structure. Yes, I had had the beating of a lifetime, and was defenseless, as the merciless seniors enjoyed the impact of their palms on my jaws, sometimes eyes, nostrils... (For my face, it was a 'Palm resort'). And I wished I had done something, but I had no choice, but get slapped for doing nothing at all. They did because their seniors did it to them, and also that it would 'help' us later or whatever. I hated every one of them, still hate most of them. They had no business laying their hands on me for nothing. How was it supposed to help me? I made a promise to myself that I'd never do what they did to me. And, I've kept my promise ever since. What I also made sure was to lie to these seniors as much as possible.
The only good thing that came out was my score stood at 31. 31 slaps, one night.
Anyways, there is nothing to write about the torturous nights that followed. Except, an escapade with my roommates to Benachity. We saw a semi-naked Miss Monica gyrating to the beats of 'Sharara Sharara' at a basti festival. Still remember the expression of Shibbu's face.
The torture continued, but we found real friends in hard times. We all went through the same pain, and unity prevailed. I felt like we were some 'Jihadis' fighting for our 'cause' and something good would come out of it. It really was a bitter experience for me, and though some had a heart to take it lightly in good humor, I found no fun or humor in hitting others. But yes, these optimists made the road easier to travel. Soyinka was everyone's favorite, ours too. We all looked up to him and how nicely he would handle things. Chimpu was another, with a broken neck, a neck-brace, he still had the heart to take everything in his stride with a smile. That was the beauty of it all. Strange how the mind gets used to pain, and then you start enjoying it. But never enjoyed getting hit. And yes, my views about ragging are still intact. But somehow, down the years, I have also realized the importance of it all. But I still don’t believe in the physical aspect of it all. Maybe it’s just my thoughts, and I’m sure my friends think otherwise, but that’s that…

Good evening readers, another Durga Puja just faded away tonight, and I'm in the comfort of my living room, in retrospection. Yes, it was the Puja back in 2005...
Watergate
Our mid-semester exams were coming to an end, and I was just getting used to the college life. It was the night before the last exam, maths, and I heard some noises upstairs. I came out of my room, so did a few others, and as we looked up, we saw people upstairs having a 'splash'. Holy lord, it was the good 'ol water-fight.
Back in hall 9, everyone had a territory, and had friends within that group. However, the water-gates were opened, it knew no boundaries. With only one more exam between us and Durga Pujas, almost everyone joined in. Only a few chose to hide. I was just looking around, and suddenly, I was ambushed from behind. It was the boy well-known as "Chimpu". And, you'll get to read a lot about him later. But there he was, drenching me, and my old Reliance phone. I joined in too, and had a lot of fun. Only next morning I realised I had forgotten about my old Phone, who had breathed its last breath, during mid-night sometime.
The Puja
Guys, I hate cliches, but they are true (is that a cliche too?). With time, I realised, how different points of time and yield such varying results, keeping all the other conditions the same. (Too confusing?) Ok, here's the deal, as I move back and forth from 2005 to 2008, I realise how things have changed.
So, it was 2005, Durga Puja.Well, yes, I got a new phone, with camera and all, and I use it till date. But that's not my topic of discussion. I had so many friends, school friends, locality friends, tution friends. And yeah, almost forgot, college friends. (Notice, they were last in the list). And yes, we had so much fun that year. Maddox square was hustling and bustling. We even met some seniors there, and they were suprisingly different there.
So, zoom, back to 2008. I still have a lot of friends. I mean a lot. There are college friends, and college friends and then there are college friends, and of course my school friends are there, and then there are college friends, but the others have all vanished, to all corners of the World.
But hey, there are still my college friends!
And yes, this year too there was fun, food, drinks (read hard). But somehow, there was emptyness. This was my last Durga Puja with my college friends...

Day 0
It was the terrace of hall 9, around 12:30 at night. Sayan, Sourish, Anirban and I had found ourselves the best place for "adda". We were the people from FIITJEE, all one year droppers, and now in NIT Durgapur. Anirban was here last year too, but had left for the IIT bait. It was a strange night away from home for the first time. And there it stood at a very short distance, Hall 3, the seniors' hostel, their prying eyes, and stories flying around in Hall 9 about the torture they'll put us through. But we drew comfort from the fact that we were well 'guarded' and no senior could enter hall 9. We talked into the night, way too deep into the night... When I came back to my room, my room-mates were asleep (as the next day was the first day of college). So, without having the oppurtunity to know much about my room-mates, I headed for sleep too... (and, yes, I believe there were a few attempts by a few seniors to 'interact' with us at night, but proved futile, thanks to the guards. But I'm not sure, maybe I was just dreaming..)
Day 1
We were all 'dressed' up and ready to head for the college. Some 400 odd of us, all guarded by security, as if we were prisnors. We were all escorted to the Insti building by security guards. The most surreal experience I've had (that was upto then, without me knowing that more was to follow). That was the highest point of the day, as I have no recollection what happened in class. Oh, wait, actually I do. I entered (I think it was LH12) and saw these older big girls sitting. Oh, my heart just sunk to the bottom of my feet. These were the 'college chicks' I had always dreamed of. God couldn't possibly have been so cruel.
Anyways, I came back to my room, and had my first real interaction with my room-mates (who were also my classmates). Shivshanker Verma, from Kanpur and Ganesh Rajak from Durgapur were both from Mechanical Engg. (same as me) and Somnath Sarkar, from my City of Joy, was going to be a Computer Science Engineer, but before that, he engineered something else, along with his accomplice, Anirban Das. He engineered a nickname for me, which has stuck to me eversince, "Jua". Yes, "Jua" they called me. Apparently my signature on my 'trunk' read "Jua" instead of "Jha". And so, Jua it was... Jua it is.
As Days Went
And since then, the nicknames continued to flow, Somnath was "Sammy", Anirban Das was "Ani", Anirban Guha was"Ban" (we'll come to him later) and Shivshanker was "Shibbu".
(There were other famous nicknames which I will come to when the time is right.)
So, that was life in hall 9. We couldn't go out anywhere but to the college building. No Jeans, T-shirts. Just finding new people, all different from others, and the "adda" on the terrace with the FIITJEE gang. And during those addas, seniors would come to pay visit, and we would have the bird's eye view from the terrace. And then we found a big chaos downstairs. Later we were informed that someone had spit on the seniors from the terrace. And the seniors were boiling with rage. There were so many speculations, rumours of the consequences that would follow...
But the consequences were inevitable, this way or that way...
My interaction with the seniors was not a fairytale, but its something I remember everything about. So, I'll spare another day for it... untill then... keep blooging!

It was the month of August in 2005. This boy, very confident and awesome, joins this Engineering college, about which he has very little idea about. Undeterred by the reputation of the college as being slightly violence-oriented, he steps on the hallowed turf on the 4th of August. Staying away from home for the first, but that doesn't bother him much, as he knows, a new world awaits him. And what a new World it turned out to be.
The often talked about violence was sometimes too much for him to take. He's own persona of himself had taken a battering. Funny how a new environment produces strange and unwanted results. He wished he'd runaway, and never comeback. This place turned out to be a prison, a sanitarium. And he didn't care much about his fellow prison mates either. In times of hardship, he had become self-centered.
But his term in the prison would end one day, and he would become free. The rest, as they say, is history. The boy would later find his ground, humour, recognition, true friends, lessons, love, memories, dreams... and what not.
Later he would go on to post his experience on a blog. As is obvious by now, the boy (though by now he believes he has turned from the boy to 'The Man') is yours truly, and the place, the place he will never forget... NIT Durgapur.
Last few months have been like a dream to me. And so, I've finally figured out the content of my blog. See, I'm a dreamer, I dream all the time, and sometimes everything works out fine. Good things happen, somethings I don't even dream about. So, join me as I share my dreams, my experiences in the dreamland...