Learning love the hard way!

I woke up suddenly disturbed by a sound. I couldn't locate the sound but as I slowly turned over on my pillow and looked at my mobile screen, the screen flashed '5:43 am'. I let out a sigh and got up, pushing aside my blanket. It was only when I walked over to my shelf to grab my tooth brush that I realized it.

My mom's birthday.

I had decided the earlier night when I had laid down at about 11:30 pm as to wake up about 20 minutes later so that I could wish her at midnight. But I had slept off and it was only the sound in the morning that had woken me up. I immediately placed down my tooth brush and picked up my mobile phone to call her. About 10 minutes later, I ended the call with a large smile spread over my face. 

But the phone call is not the reason I typed up this post. 

It was a thought that struck me afterward as I kept staring at myself in my hostel's bathroom mirror, lazily rotating the toothbrush in my mouth that made me type up this post. It was a thought that kept disturbing me so much that it was all I could think of when one of my professors reviewing my mini-project today asked me to explain about 'Low complexity filter' in BLAST. 

Why is it that we never try to respect the love that comes about easily?

It was my mom's birthday that had triggered the thought.

My wishes, when I had called her, had made her happy. But she was more focused on stressing that I dare not miss my breakfast. It was a love so pure that it had absolutely zero expectations. And it was the same love with the zero expectations, I guess, that had been the reason that I did not take any extra efforts to wake myself up at midnight in case I accidentally fell asleep. I knew within my heart that I did not have the necessity of taking an extra step to make my mom love me more. 

And this was the thought that hurt me.

Why do we always keep trying so hard to satisfy someone who seems very difficult to be satisfied when we don't even care about a person who showers love constantly despite whatever we do? 

I have had the opportunity of observing this scenario more than often in these three and half years of college life. I have seen many of my friends spend hours planning a surprise birthday party and spend hundreds on a gift for the birthday of a loved one (I have also been a culprit on 2 such occasions and the only reason I continue with this post is because of my 'realization' later) whilst so casually wishing their moms and dads on their birthdays only on the evening of their birthdays, that too in many cases, only after having been reminded by their moms and dads about it.

Why does the extra effort go into making a birthday special for a loved one when there is not even an attempt to remember the birthday of a person who loves you dearly?

I would be a fool saying that one must not plan surprise birthday parties and hand over intimate and meaningful gifts for a loved one's birthday. The joy of seeing a loved one smile at your gift and the feeling of having made a loved one happy is inexplicable. Agreed. But why is that these extra steps taken to make a loved one stay in your life not continue on to people who will never ever let you go? After all, aren't the latter people the ones whose love should be reciprocated more?

But I guess that this outlook not just exists in love. Though it seems to be very explicit in love, it seems to exist in most of the other affairs of human life too. A school situated close to the home and a school wherein the admission seems easy is not even given a chance before a school where getting an admission seems impossible (and I often wonder what attracts the people more - if it is the quality of the education or the simple fact that the admission is just difficult). A completely sufficient 'Maruti Alto' is never given the equal respect as a 'Mercedes-Benz B class' (and I often wonder if it has anything to do with the mileage or the simple fact that a 'B class' is much harder to own). A simple yet delicious meal prepared at home is eaten so simply when a meal at a posh restaurant or a foreign dish at a very expensive eatery seems to be worshiped (and I often wonder if it really has anything to do with the taste).

Being attracted to things that are hard to attain is not a crime. But why not give, if not more, at least the same level of respect to things that automatically come your way?

The face of a mom or a dad might not always come to the mind while listening to a melody like a loved one's does but they still require a part of the love they shower, don't they? A grandmother or a grandfather might not always talk interesting stuff like a new friend does but they still require a part of the love they exhibit, don't they?

The human mind, just like its desire to love things that are hard to attain also has an uncontrollable urge to try everything practically rather than just in theory. So perhaps, it would probably not hurt giving the opportunity of making special the birthday of a person who showers love on you a try. 

The trial might probably even lead to a very beautiful realization - the love, which exists so abundantly and in so easy a way all around you is in many ways more heartening and fulfilling than the love that comes the hard way.

That one moment!

Prologue

There is a scene in Jigarthanda that plays out like this:

The protagonist, who comes across a lot of obstacles in order to achieve his penultimate dream of becoming a filmmaker, stands outside the entry doors of a theater. It is the first screening of his debut film. He waits outside, tensed and perplexed. And after about a few minutes as he hears a particular scene ending, he starts a countdown from three. It is a scene where he expects the audience to cheer. And by the time he reaches one, there erupts a huge cheer inside the theater and the protagonist starts jumping in celebration.

His dream comes true. He becomes a filmmaker.

****

Two days back, at about 7 pm in the night, when I received a phone call from my close friend, I did not know that it would be a phone call that would result in a defining moment of my life. 

My friend had called to discuss about making a video. A video about our classmates. A tribute video to be exact. The next day (yesterday) was going to be the last working day of our college life. And my friend wanted to make it a memorable one. So had come the suggestion of making a tribute video. Excited will not be the exact description of the feeling that overcame me when I heard his statement. But I did not want to refuse his request outright and continued listening to what he had to say.

"I don't have a clear concept as to how it should proceed. But it should contain the photograph of every single person in our class. It should be ready before tomorrow noon. Most importantly, it should not be too emotional and at the same time it should not be too funny. They should be moved but they should also laugh. I don't want it to be too serious." - These were the lines that followed the request. I remained silent for a moment and said, "Please do end this call and do something else useful. What you ask for is not possible. That too within tomorrow." 

But my friend refused to listen. He told me that he would collect photographs of all the students of our class and mail me within 10 pm and ended the call. I was really angry that he had not listened to what I had said.

I started watching a film I had left halfway due to his call. But about ten minutes into the film, I couldn't concentrate on it. For some reason, my mind still seemed to be occupied with the video-making thought. I paused the film and laid back silently on my cot. I thought for a few minutes about the video. I knew that making it would be difficult, especially according to his whims but I just wanted to think about how one would possibly approach it. I visualized about 10-15 photographs of our classmates scrolling one after the other but it seemed very mundane. I squeezed my brain trying to think of an idea that would be logical and would connect the photographs. I couldn't come up with any. 

And I decided to do that thing which was/is/will be the main reason I want to become a filmmaker - research. The research that a filmmaker normally does before making a film seldom gets noticed. Though 'research' before a film is more prevalent in European and American cinema (thanks to their solid plots), certain Indian filmmakers also do do their fair bit of 'research' before starting a film. 

When 'Colorblind' became a song of friendship

I was blank for a moment as to what research I could possibly do for a simple video as the one my friend had demanded but I still wanted to see the normal format followed for such videos and I dived into Youtube's 'classmate tribute' videos and 'goodbye' videos. Most of the videos had a standard template - photos that scrolled one after the other with a melancholic song in the background, especially a song that had the words 'goodbye' or 'friend' repeated in them often. I felt that playing out a similar song would be very normal but the songs somehow seemed to be creating the required aura and so I started searching for a powerful 'Goodbye' song. And two did come my way - Goodbye my friend by Linda Ronstadt and Saying Goodbye by Karina Long. 

But it was only then that a song came to my mind which, when heard, created a similar atmosphere - Colorblind by Overtone. One of my favorites, thanks to Invictus. I immediately played it on my music player but hesitated for a moment as to how I could insert a song about the apartheid struggles and the game of rugby in South Africa into a video about friendship. As I lay thinking, listening to the song playing in my music player, I was pleasantly surprised. The lyrics seemed to, in a deeper sense, signify friendship.  

Hear me say it's time we stopped our hate
Eye to eye we see a different fate..
Yes we.. we've conquered the war
With love at the core..
I stumble, I fall, but I'll stay
Colorblind!

Moreover, college was the place where I gave up my bullshit principle of conversing only with fair-skinned and beautiful girls and in a sense, Colorblind was a tribute to my college life as well. And it was the first thing that got me interested in making a video that would instill a much required confidence in my in-a-helpless-state passion.

When photographs became more than just photographs

It was nearly 12 in the midnight when my friend mailed me the photos of our classmates requesting me to begin the video. I downloaded them but I was more than overcome by sleep that I could even take a look at them. I closed the laptop and went to sleep, deciding to give the video a try the next morning. 

As I woke up the next day - yesterday morning - by around 6 am, I opened my laptop again to give the photos a glance. I wanted to see the kind of photos that my friend had got hold of. And as I opened the folder, I was shocked to see that he had collected more than 70 photos of our class's 36 girls (which in it is a big achievement with trying to keep the entire task a secret and I need to thank two other classmates - a special thanks to you 'poet'uu' as you read this) and I copied those photos and put them together with the photos of our class boys that I had already collected. I opened the first photo in the folder and as I slowly moved on from one photo to the other, happened something I had not expected. I was beginning to experience an inexplicable feeling. I honestly don't want to even try describing it here because it was a feeling that I had never ever felt before and one that I would cherish till my last breath. And as I came to the last photograph, I couldn't even think. My mind had gone blank so contrary to my heart that was at its heaviest. 

And it was only then that I realized what my friend had meant the earlier day. The heavy feeling slowly subsided after a few minutes and I opened the photos again. This time, the inexplicable feeling did occur again but in a much more joyous way. And I decided that I had to do the video. Not for Colorblind. Not for my friend. But for that simple inexplicable feeling. 

It just couldn't be kept mine. It needed to be shared.

When 'that one moment' occurred

It was about 3 in the afternoon as my friend and I completed the video. The entire morning had been spent creating collages out of those beautiful photographs and laughing heartily between the two of us thinking about the hash-tags that were about to precede each of the photograph. 

In 15 minutes, the farewell event was about to start. And I wanted to see a preview of the video. My friend walked away saying that he did not want to see it for a personal reason of his. I tried to persuade him to watch it but he refused and I was left watching the video alone. As the video reached its end, I was once again overcome with very same feeling that had happened in the morning. And I was happy and afraid at the same time. Happy that it had come out in the very way I had imagined but afraid if it would create the same inexplicable feeling among my classmates. But it was time to start the farewell event and I accompanied my friend to the room where all the other classmates had gathered.

About thirty minutes of sincere heart-pourings later, my friend called me to connect the laptop to the projector. Projectors had been installed in all our classrooms to facilitate presentations during classes but we were going to use the projector now to screen a video, accompanied by audio as well. I was completely filled with fear - half of it as to what would happen if a faculty passing by our class heard the sound and caught us and the other half as to how it would be received by my classmates.

I had already had a disastrous experience during the screening of a 3 minute video I had made about 'Energy crisis' for an event conducted by the Mechanical Engineering department in our college during which about 30 seconds into the video, every one in the room had started chatting among themselves completely ignoring the video. 

And I decided that I would not stay in the room when the tribute video started playing out. I couldn't take in one more such ignorance. And I told my friend that I would wait outside till the video got over so as to ensure that no faculty came by our class (which was also a part of the reason, though only a part) and stepped outside, closing the door behind me.

I kept pacing around the class for about a few minutes when I kept hearing constant murmur inside. And then suddenly the murmur stopped. I couldn't hear any sound and I realized that the video had started. My heart skipped a beat. 

For a moment, I wanted to open the door and step inside. I wanted to see the faces of every single person watching the video and the reactions on those faces. But I couldn't bring about myself to open the door. I controlled my emotions and waited outside. And then erupted a sudden cheer inside. A large smile spread over my face. 

I knew that the cheers would be heard frequently from that moment as my friend and I had intentionally prepared the video that way. And I was not disappointed.

But it was the end of the song Someday that I was waiting for. The end of the song marked the end of the photographs of our classmates and an intentional 5 second gap had been left before the end part of the video continued. I felt that any person watching that video would feel that the end of the photographs marked the end of the video and the reaction that followed would be the most honest reaction to the video. And as the song Someday started, I waited with bated breath. The cheers kept coming frequently but it was the end that mattered. And as the song came to its end, I stood as close to the door as possible and the moment the song ended, erupted a huge applause that quickly stopped as the video continued after the 5 second gap. But I did not care any more. 

The applause had given a new meaning to every single film that I had watched trying to analyse and learn. The applause had given a new meaning to every single article and every single book that I had read about filmmaking. The applause had given a new meaning to my in-a-helpless-state passion.

I had become 1/1000th of a filmmaker and it was more than I ever thought I would achieve in my lifetime.

****

Epilogue

As I entered my hostel room by 6 in the evening after spending one more hour at the farewell event and having a small meal at the canteen, I took out my phone from my pocket. It was filled with messages from many of my classmates, thanking me and my friend for having created the video. Some of them had added that it had meant a lot for them and had made the day an unforgettable one. 

The video had achieved its purpose. The inexplicable feeling had been shared.

But I didn't know how to reply to those messages. Everyone seemed to be thanking me when actually I had to thank them. The video had made it a memorable day for them but it had made a mark in my life like never before. 

But I knew that I had to explain a lot and so I sent a simple reply of 'My pleasure' to many. 

Some time later as one of my classmates who had missed the screening came to watch it on my laptop, I joined him. As I sat watching the video seeing him laugh at many a hash-tag, my close friend with whom I had created the video messaged me - "We just did it for fun, right?! Everyone seems to have become very emotional. Don't know what to reply to all those messages :D "

And I smiled looking at the message. Not for its content but for its sender. 

He had affected my life again.

Window

The birthplace of many a thought in my head. A support I constantly hold on to at times of happiness to gaze at the vibrant blue sky. A support I constantly hold on to at times of sadness to stare at the forlorn blue sky. The first ray of sunlight never seemed more lively than when passing through it. The thunderstorm, ably supported by the lightning, never felt more threatening than when recklessly slamming it. The culprit responsible for tempting me to steal an occasional glance at the neighboring girl. The companion responsible for constituting the wave-of-hand friendship with the neighboring old gentleman.

Many people , when away from home, miss a certain room or a certain corner of their homes. I, for reasons that go beyond the above paragraph, constantly miss the window situated at the far corner of the hallway at my home.

How can I not?

After all, the window does not just signify the entries and exits like the irksome old wooden door at my home.

It signifies something more. 

It signifies the passage.

Compromising (He)Art!

The moment I changed my 'Whatsapp' display picture - a selfie of me and my sister - I knew that I would receive quite a few angry messages from some of my friends, especially after my recent post on 'selfies' and I was not disappointed. The angry messages did come in. But I had not had an option. My sister, after having taken the picture, had requested me with a beautiful smile to upload it as my 'dp' and I had not had the heart to refuse that request. I had for a minute thought about it as I felt that the act would show me a weak person - as someone who had failed to follow his own words - but right then, I felt that making my sister happy was more important compared to sticking to my principles, or to put it more beautifully in the Tamil language - my kolgaigal.

I don't know if this act is worthy of being labeled a 'compromise' but that single minute's thought-process that had occupied my mind during the changing of my 'dp' had later haunted me bringing back thoughts about a topic that was redundant beyond redundancy in the discussions that me and my brother had often - Compromising art for art's sake (with regard to filmmaking, of course).

K.Balachander is a director I have high regard for. The very first time I watched Apoorva Raagangal, I was stunned beyond words as to how a director had had the guts to handle so delicate a subject (the hero loves the heroine's mother and the heroine loves the hero's father - the description might vary depending on whom you view as the hero and the heroine) at so early a time as 1975. The lines - Yaaruku theriyum? Innum konjam thondina Socialism kuda kedaikalaam! (Who knows? If we dig a bit further, we might even find Socialism) - uttered by the character played by Kamal Haasan as he digs up a garbage bin in a scene in Varumayin Niram Sivappu is one of my favorite lines in Tamil Cinema, perhaps even Indian cinema. But the reason I mentioned K.B. (as he is fondly known) is because the song 'Paadariyaen.. Padippariyaen..' and its prelude in Sindhu Bairavi exactly sums up the theme of this entire post.

Filmmaking, being an unmatched form of story-telling with a breathtaking blend of visuals and sounds, is seldom considered a serious business except for a very few who have had the first-hand experience of its magic. The simple fact that it took one of the greatest Indian filmmakers - Satyajit Ray - nearly three years to complete his debut (along with funds from the West Bengal government), Pather Panchali, is in itself a testament to the behind-the-scenes-bigger-story-aspect of filmmaking. The three year duration does seem justified watching every single scene of Pather Panchali and though it might feel clichéd for anyone who admires the masterpiece, the scene where Apu and Durga run across the field to have their first glimpse of a train is one of the finest moments to have been captured on the camera in Indian cinema. 
And talking about Pather Panchali, I just cannot hold myself back from mentioning Veedu and Sandhiya Raagam (two of the greatest films made in Tamil cinema) since I watched the above mentioned three films in the same week (one of the best weeks of my life, if it does not sound too 'filmy'). I sometimes wonder as to what Tamil cinema would have become without Balu Mahendra, the man behind the last two films mentioned, and the thought just sends down a chill. All the three films mentioned above have an extraordinary poetical charm about them, the stories and the characters being rooted in our soil. But the reason that many people in India remain unaware of these classics might be attributed to the slow and lackadaisical way the stories unfold. It might also be the very unsophisticated way the shots are staged and the way the camera remains static - how could one forget Hou Hsiao Hsien's A City of madness and Three Times talking about static camera shots - unlike how the camera keeps constantly moving, as if in a hurry, in most of the mainstream (I hate the word 'commercial') films.
And having laid out the reasons, come flowing the questions - why do the general audience not accept a static camera shot or a languidly paced story? Doesn't the slow pace strengthen the characterization further? Doesn't the static shot give the audience time to take in the scene and ponder over it? But why do such films don't work on a large scale? Why is it that they are sidelined only for a niché audience?

If the slow pace seems a problem, more so does abstraction. How many people would claim to have understood the final act of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey? How many people would claim to have understood every single reference to death and life in Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries respectively? How many people would claim to understand the various layers embedded intricately in the three different stories of Krzysztof Kiéslowski's Three Colors trilogy or Alejandro Inarritu's Babel and 21 grams? Movies like Memento, Primer, The Fountain do make us squeeze our brains a bit but movies like Full Metal Jacket and Mulholland Drive leave us in a state of confusion as to if the scenes really imply what is being shown or do they carry a deeper meaning within. Whilst it can be argued that a film needs to be outright and simple so as to be comprehensible by the general audience, a counter-argument also can be put forth as to why a filmmaker should be stopped from filling every frame of his film with a deeper meaning of the idea that was conceived in his head.
And this again leads to a series of never-ending questions - Why do the audience not show interest in analyzing a film? Why do they get satisfied by just simple plain entertainment? Is it the fault of certain filmmakers who have been constantly lowering the standard of the general audience by producing works of low quality? Is it wrong to not want to present the facts outright but try to make them abstract? Is it wrong to want the audience to spend more than just money and time on a film?

I try to think of answers for many of the questions asked above and my mind, instead of presenting me with solutions, seems to be presenting me with a list of filmmakers - Mani Ratnam, Steven Spielberg, David Fincher, Ang Lee, Sidney Lumet. And the fog does seem to clear a bit letting the road be seen. Perhaps Nayagan and Kannathil Muthamittaal is the way to go. Perhaps Schindler's List and E.T. is the way to go. Perhaps Seven and Social Network is the way to go. Perhaps Brokeback Mountain and Lust, Caution is the way to go. Perhaps 12 Angry Men and Serpico is the way to go.

But the mind still doesn't seem to be convinced. Should art be sacrificed for a wider reach? Should abstraction be avoided for a studio's financial backing? The questions seem to linger for a while.

And they seem to settle down slowly a little later having come to terms with the fact that sometimes compromises are the best way to take our (he)art further.

Food for thought

My dear fellow Tam-Brahms (perhaps even all the Hindus),

I am deeply moved by your compassion towards animals (read cows) and birds (read crows), especially during festivals. Your treatment of cows as equal to Gods and crows as equal to your ancestors and your sincerity in feeding them prior to even the inmates of your home is something astonishing and I respect that.

But I would like to request you, very humbly indeed, to provide the same handful of rice that you feed the crows and cows with to certain less-fortunate beings of your own species. They might not have been mentioned with the same significance as crows and cows in the revered Hindu mythology but they also do walk and live on this same planet.

So, the next time an auspicious occasion falls, feed the crows and feed the cows. But also do walk a few extra steps and feed the hungry old man sitting at the end of your street.

After all, unlike from the crow and cow, you might get a grateful smile in return.

'I' on the high!

The policeman kept circling the streets
Not a man visible, walking..
144 was in motion, a court judgement the cause
But as he entered the street that led to the bus terminus
A sight at the far end angered him and the engine roared
A sight of 5 men pouring kerosene over a government bus
His 'Royal Enfield' sped but the fire had already been set
And the men had escaped, a van nearby the culprit..
As he reached the bus set aflame
His engine slowed and he stopped his vehicle..
The flames seemed to intensify by every minute
And the policeman looked at it helpless and troubled
It had happened under his watch..
He quickly got down and called his team
Patrolling nearby, informing them of the situation
When came walking a young teenager, from an adjacent street
Who after staring at the bus set on fire for a minute
Looked at the policeman and pointing to the burning bus
Uttered a statement that stunned the policeman..

None of the other ghosts understood
Why 'Scarie' was upset
"A few people cannot be scared..
Don't worry if someone stared at you silently
Without shouting or screaming..
It's just a part of a ghost's life!" said 'Creepie'
Trying to convince 'Scarie'..
But 'Scarie' was not ready to be convinced
He had had the strangest of reactions..
Continual forcing from the ghosts' side
And a stern look from his mom
'Scarie' finally told them what had happened..
When he had gone to scare a girl
Who had been standing alone on a terrace
The wind making her hair dance across her face..
It had been midnight
The most auspicious time 
And 'Scarie' had pounced upon her
Expecting a very high-pitched scream
Only to have the girl look at him in awe
And utter the most shocking statement to 'Scarie'..

The teenager on seeing the burning bus

The girl on seeing 'Scarie' ghost 

Had uttered the same statement

A statement that had shocked and stunned

Not just the brave policeman

But so also the threatening 'Scarie' ghost..

The statement had been a very simple one

One of just five words

But it had had an effect unmatched and unequaled

The statement:

Shall we take a selfie?!

****

'Selfie in our home', 'Selfie in our room', 'Selfie in our kitchen', 'Selfie in our toilet', 'Selfie with our door', 'Selfie with our window', 'Selfie with my bat','Selfie with my ball', 'Selfie with one eye closed', 'Selfie with both eyes closed', 'Selfie with my toungue out', 'Selfie with my mehandi', 'Selfie with my boyfriend/girlfriend', 'Selfie with my best friend', 'Selfie with my ordinary friend', 'Selfie with my sister', 'Selfie with my mother', 'Selfie with my grandmother', 'Selfie with my dead grandfather', 'Selfie with my puppy', 'Selfie with our maid servant', 'Selfie with our apartment security-guard', 'Selfie with the man at the supermarket counter', 'Selfie with the bus conductor', 'Selfie with a passer-by', 'Selfie with an auto-rickshaw', 'Selfie with a bicycle', 'Selfie with the road', 'Selfie with the sky', 'Selfie with a stone', 'Selfie with a leaf', 'Selfie with a dried leaf', 'Selfie with a flower', 'Selfie with a dead flower' - Finally, 'Selfie with myself' and much worse,'Selfie without myself'!

This is a very short list of the general 'selfie' terms used on the social networks. The entire list probably would be lengthier than the human genome sequence!

"Find something more important than you are and dedicate your life to it." goes a quote by Dan Dennett.

But we, on the contrary, seem to be always on the lookout to drag ourselves even into the smallest of the things that we do or rather, the things that happen because of us/the things that happen around us.

In a world dominated by social networks, in a time when 'tweets' and 'fb-statuses' seem to be given more importance than handshakes and hugs, 'selfies' only seem to be making the scenario worse - especially the 'single-person-selfies'.

These 'selfies' seem to be making us selfish.

Yes. They are definitely a boon when we are alone. They are indeed as harmless as butterflies. But they also seem to be making us more hesitant to come out of our 'cocoon' phase. And that exactly shows the reason as to why 'selfies' should not be allowed to dominate the 'self'.

'Selfies' have now become an irremovable part of our lives and I have no damn business to deny anybody the right to take a 'selfie'. I might, actually, even pose for a few.

But let's just take care that these 'selfies' come and go in our lives when we are alone and do not, actually, become a cause for us being lonely.

They are, after all, just a poor substitute for our mirrors.

Baggage - a child's play!

The definition of 'baggage' according to Oxford dictionary goes something like this:
"Noun - 1. Suitcases and bags containing personal belongings packed for travelling; luggage; 2. Past experiences or long-held attitudes perceived as burdensome encumbrances"

And the definition - with its 'encumbrances' making it complicated when it could have been simpler - reflects, exactly, the theme of this post.

Our uncontrollable urge to complicate simple things!

I still remember those days in my fourth and fifth grade when my mom would beg me to leave behind a few textbooks and notebooks at home, not being able to tolerate the lump-like bulge that my bag would assume by the presence of books pertaining to the entire syllabus inside it. I, being a very obedient and studious (surprisingly!) student then, would refuse to leave behind even a single notebook, however unimportant it may be for the day's classes. 

As the years passed and the 'private-van' journey to my school became a 'government-bus' journey by the time I reached tenth grade, I had no other go but to leave behind a few books that were unnecessary. The obedience and studiousness still remained intact but the indignant remarks from the passengers in the government buses, especially women in their forties (you would expect them to be the most compassionate, but beware, they can be the most menacing) at the sight of a fat school-bag, frightened me more than the threats of my class teacher and so were left behind a few books.

The transformation from a calm and sincere 'front-bench' boy in the tenth grade to a mischievous, troublesome 'back-bench' boy in the eleventh grade still baffles me, as it did my teachers then, but it did provide relief to my shoulders - my bag had become considerably lighter with just the main subject textbooks and a single notebook that sufficed for all the subjects as against the earlier norm. 

And now, as I am in the final year of my college, I very rarely do carry a bag to my class. A long sized notebook that serves all purposes except that of taking notes, a blue ball-point pen at the end of its life, a mostly empty or sometimes a single ten-rupee note carrying wallet and a college identity-card with one of my most horrible pictures - these are the only objects that accompany me to my class.

As I think about the gradual reduction of the baggage forced around my shoulders with my educational evolution, I just can't help thinking about the emotional baggage that seems to have kept growing with the same.

And the problem doesn't seem to be just mine. It seems to be a problem shared by almost all of my friends.

Any regular college guy would be extremely delighted when one of his friends asks him to accompany the friend to the canteen, agreeing to take care of both their expenses. And when one of my close friends at college asked me to accompany him to the canteen in a very similar way, I was more than happy and accompanied him to the canteen. But it was only at the canteen that I came to know that the 'treat' had had a deeper motive - he had wanted to talk about a very personal problem of his.
And we have had about 4 such 'treats' so far and it pained me on every one of the three occasions after the first one, for two reasons - He never allowed me to pay and took it all on himself and secondly and more importantly, I was unable to provide him with a proper solution to his problem.

His problem was not one that was unresolvable. But the one thing that he had to do to solve it was something he found the most difficult - to talk his heart out to two of the closest people in his life who had now become the cause of a problem that was handing him over sleepless nights.

And again, this problem doesn't seem to be just his. It seems to be a problem shared by almost all of us.

All of us have that one close person in life with whom we share almost everything sans any inhibitions and a few people who have problems with sharing some delicate issues even with that close person, tend to maintain a personal diary or a blog, perhaps, and spill their hearts out - like I do (but I sometimes seriously think over as to why is it that I share things so readily on a blog when I find it difficult to share them even with a close friend and the only logical explanation that makes sense seems to be a psychological disorder!).

But very little do we realize that the real explanation and the real 'pouring-out' needs to be done with people with whom we complicate things and not, as we tend to normally do, with our best friends for whom just a sheepish smile after a meaningless fight suffices or even worse, our diaries and blogs. 

About four months back, when I had stayed at one of my uncles' home during my semester vacation, unexpectedly had erupted a very huge fight between my aunt and my uncle, one evening. I had sat down on a chair silently, not knowing what to say or what to do. And as I kept fighting within my mind, trying to plot a plan as to stop their fight, my three year old cousin who had walked in from a neighbor's house came up straight to her parents and silently staring at their fight for a few seconds, pulled at her mother's saree and said bluntly - "Amma, ennaku romba pasikuthu. Vanthu dosai panni kuduthutu apram appa kuda kathu" (Mom, I feel really hungry. Make me a few dosas and then continue your shout-out with father.). Having said this, she walked away to the bathroom to wash her face. And about a few seconds of staring-at-each-other later, all the three of us burst into laughter. 
I had been breaking my head to devise a strategy for about fifteen minutes to stop their fight, but my cousin had ended it by two simple statements of hers.

This tendency of ours in our childhood to speak things out blunt and frank, for some reason, slowly seems to diminish as our life advances. The reason might be a better understanding of life. The reason might be the realization that not all our views need to be expressed. The reason might be the belief that some things are best left a secret.

But whatever be the reason, it just doesn't seem to be making things easier. 

Its probably time that we stop complicating life in the name of maturity.  

And its probably time that in addition to looking with awe at a child's ability to recite a rhyme and gaping in wonder at a child's artistic attempt at drawing a home, we start learning some of life's most important lessons from its very simple actions.

Children, if observed carefully, can teach us more about life than we can ever possibly teach them about.