NET: Nonchalant Exercise of Tyranny

While people enjoy their summer travelling or learning new things, we waste ours mugging up old trivia and facts to sit for the summer attempt of NET. NET, a word that sends a chill down a scholar’s spine, is an entrance test that willing candidates must pass, to be able to profess in India. Calling the test “difficult” would simply be misleading the reader. If the absurdity of the whole ordeal was as simple as “difficult” one could deal with it. It is absurd, almost ludicrous.

Often, the night before the test is spent contemplating the foretold misery of the next day. I spent mine questioning the choices I made in life which led to that point. It was simultaneously- soul, identity, confidence and life-crushing. I woke up in despair, did the everyday rituals of brushing, bathing and having breakfast and then finally booked a cab to the centre of this examination, which, much to my dismay, but not surprise, was located in a place in Delhi called Nangloi, completely alien and unfamiliar to me as to most others, I am sure.

The drive was long and when I almost reached, I realised, the street leading to the centre was narrower than the bicycle lanes on highways. I alighted from my cab and began to snake my way through in the scorching Delhi heat. A house was located right opposite, precisely three paces away from the centre. The basement of which was being used to submit our bags and belongings. Unable to fathom the intricacies of this setup, I thoughtlessly submitted my bag, took out my admit card, proof of identification and pen and joined the queue for the security check. The board that holds the NET exam takes their security check very seriously, often preposterously. 

                       


Standing in queue, I spotted a bird on a tree and my eyes started following its trail. My thoughts metamorphosed with the actions of the bird and while I was busy locating the appropriate size of twigs to build a nest, I heard an unpleasant voice near me, “Madame ID card, oh Madame ID card”, bewildered, I emptied my hands into hers. Pointing to my watch, she said, “What is this? You’re not allowed to wear a watch inside the examination hall.” I took off my watch, put it aside and started moving forward when she commanded, “Don’t rush, and untie your hair.” I said, “You can’t be serious.” She looked at me with utter disgust and said, “But I am. Let down your hair.” I untied my long, thigh-length, dense hair on an unbearably hot Delhi morning and moved forward. Two other women sent me to a room for the last step of security check. Confused, and wondering if I was about to enter an exam hall or the Pentagon, I kept on walking and reached a dark room.                                                        

I entered the door to the room which stood ajar. A visibly-angry and insolent woman said, “take off your dupatta.” For a second, I didn’t quite comprehend. I asked, “what?”. Quite used to the ‘what?’ she just responded with a nod. I took off my dupatta, she touched me around my neck, pressed my bosoms, to check for hidden chits or the firmness, I couldn’t tell. By now, quite immune to this crude public humiliation and encroachment of personal space, I left as the next girl entered. My eyes met hers, probably communicated the ridicule that was to follow, and then, awkwardly separated. A couple of moments later, I heard the same command, “take off your dupatta”, the subsequent ‘what?’, possibly the nod, followed by silence and then a deafening smack. Startled, I looked back and saw the woman’s face red with anger and her palm resting on her left cheek, while, the girl bolted out the door with fiery eyes and walked into the examination hall. I turned around, grinned and finally entered the examination hall with an inexplicable sense of sadistic pleasure.

When Shehzaadinama met The Delhi Walla.

So, of late, the best thing that has happened to me was being in the newspaper column, the blog and my favourite Instagram account of thedelhiwalla. I know most of my readers are aware of it but I wanted to let you know, what it really felt like. Months ago, the Delhi walla paid me a visit after a brief interaction between us on Instagram and the meeting was fixed, he was going to show up on a Wednesday at 7:00 PM. I tidied up my generally nicely kept house and was eagerly waiting for him. I didn't really know what the meeting had in store for me but I was definitely very excited.

People who know me, have a fair idea of how good I am with my phone(read Pathetic). I barely ever answer my phone, most often than not it is on silent mode (I know, that's terrible). I hate responding to Whatsapp messages(to the extent that I respond after days of having received the message), I disconnect calls when I am not in the mood to take them, basically, I am the worst. So, I was over cautious that day, I made sure that I am near my phone at all times because Mayank(thedelhiwalla) could call me anytime to ask for directions and I WAS sitting right next to my phone BUT, when he called, I had somehow started thinking about something and despite being right beside my phone I didn't see his call and of course the silent mode was still intact, because I can be careful but don't count on it. I looked at my phone only to realize that I was getting a call from him, I hade five missed calls and three messages and that panicked the shit out of me. 

Mayank, who sounded agitated at first, just for a second(I don't blame him, who wouldn't?) instantly forgot about it smiled and was the gentleman that he is. I apologized, he smiled and we came upstairs. He was curious to know, so I explained to him the living arrangement of my apartment, a student dwelling, he took his moment to take it all in, and said, "just give me a moment to look around. I love entering a new space for the first time.". I asked him if he wanted tea or coffee and he opted for tea. I went out to make it where I met my flatmate and her friend, both busy admiring Mayank and eagerly expressing how dapper and interesting he seemed, being nice enough, they offered to prepare the tea and I went to sit with the most awaited guest in the house. 

To be honest, I had no idea whether he wants to know about my books, my paintings, my literary interests or me. So I waited for him to ask and so he did. He asked me all about my life in Delhi, my life before coming to Delhi, How has it changed? What changed? Where have I been in Delhi? What part I liked more and Why? Why do I choose to live where I do? What books I like? Which are my favourite Shakespeare plays? and why? What do I want to research about?...etc. etc. (It obviously wasn't a rapid fire round, but I wrote it so to give a glimpse of what he asked.) Then he asked me about my room, about the decoration, the lighting(which he thought was "too good"), the quotes(he absolutely loved my board), the view outside, what I see when I look out from my balcony? Etc. 

I told him everything. An hour had passed already. It was so exciting to be interviewed by one of the best columnists of Delhi that I completely forgot(and so did he) to show him my library. I asked if he wanted to look at it and he eagerly agreed. He looked at my library and expressed that he loved it( won't put superlatives in there, although he did seem pretty impressed). Then we talked and talked some more. Then he took out, the much awaited, the elephant in the room, his wand, his amazing Camera. 

Do you know how it would feel if every move of your body was being watched(in a good way) and captured by a wonderful artist and turned into a beautiful picture? That's what it was. He just asked me to be who I am, do what I do at this time of the day, be in my space and forget about being watched or being captured(WHATT???!!!!) how could I? How could I forget about being photographed by THE Mayank Austen Soofi, in my bedroom and act like he is not there, when every ounce of my body wanted to savour each moment and click mental pictures of the same. But, I tried my best. I tried my best to be his muse for those couple of hours, and walk around, read, play with my hair (which by the way, he thought was beautiful). I do it unconsciously while talking, some of you might know. He must have taken hundreds of pictures and if I could, I would ask him for each one of them, get them framed and make my room a shrine, not of me so much as of that day, the experience and the fact that he visited. 

He took twenty minutes to remember everything that he learnt about me, wrote it in his notes and asked questions simultaneously. We had tea, I made him a fruit chaat, my Nani's special recipe, a family heirloom. He asked me about some more things and expressed that he would like to visit again for a couple of more ideas he had in mind and I just smiled and said, "I won't have it otherwise". 

So that's precisely what happened and I just hope reading this would make you happy because writing this did definitely make me very happy. It was a wonderful evening. An evening of my own in a room of my own.

Link to thedelhiwalla's blog: http://www.thedelhiwalla.com/2018/05/09/home-sweet-home-saloni-srivastva-old-gupta-colony/

You can find multiple pictures of my room in there, also the delhi walla's story about me. 

Pondicherry: Let peace find you

February is a great month. I completely love it, it somehow is laden with great experiences. It often brings travel in the package, atleast in my life and I’m sure in yours. The weather is pleasant, the trees are blooming and there is happiness and positivity all around. This year it brought for me a trip to Pondicherry and trust me I can’t thank it enough for this. Pondicherry with its happiness, peace, beaches has taken a permanent spot in my heart.

On the 11th of February we left from Delhi and landed in Chennai(flights taken till Chennai are cheaper). While the plane circled around in the air, I peeped out of the window and saw only darkness of the likes and the stretch that I have never seen before. The fact that I am geographically challenged came handy. After much contemplation and willingness to find out what that was, light from some boats became visible, shocking to my North Indian- uncontemplative of such large water bodies- mind. A chill passed through my body. It was fearful and beautiful at the same time. Almost sublime. The plane landed in Chennai and everything changed. The world I live in is completely different from the one waiting to unfold. I must mention that it was my first time in south india. The land of beauty and nature and peace and everything that one doesn’t get in Delhi. Following a farrago of in’s and outs,cabs and buses, ubers and olas, the decision was made and we finally left for Pondy. As soon as we came out of the airport our first struggle was waiting on us. While planning to go to Pondy no one gave a thought to the language barrier. But getting the cab guy to come around and explaining to him where we stood took almost an hour. Nevertheless we found him and left to be spellbound. The roads in Chennai( atleast the way to Pondy) were as clean as they are here on the day of their inauguration but there was no ribbon cutting or anything. They were just very clean. 

The journey from Chennai to Pondy had its own share of serenity(which btw is also the name of a beach in Pondy). All there was on the sides of the road was water, which could be heard and not seen ofcourse, it was too dark that late in the night. We reached our abode for the next two days at around 2 am, where we found Teresa waiting to welcome us, the lovely care taker of the house we rented on the Frederic Ozanan road. High on happiness and looking forward to what was supposed to unfold in the coming week we slept a sound, dream filled sleep. In the morning we were to explore what Pondy had to offer and to not turn the trip into a treasure hunt, we left home without knowing where to go. We just wanted to be surprised with what the city had to offer. 

Alongside the most tranquil beach I have ever seen (Promenade or commonly known as the rocky beach). We parked our Activas outside what was called Le Cafe and went in for a sumptuous round of French breakfast. The functioning of Le cafe’ was like that of a canteen but it was located in heaven. With Victorian  architecture and iron railings it was located right at the beach. No matter where you sit, you won’t miss the sea view. We sat there for a good while staring at the crests and troughs the waves formed. It had such a calming effect on us that we didn’t realise having spent about two hours there. Soon it became our go to spot. It was open 24*7 and was less than a Km away from White Town, where we were staying. We would go there every night and sit for hours. 

The most interesting fact about Pondy was that inspite of all this beauty and splendour, it was not Jarred by a gamut of selfie taking, willing to tan, tourists. It seemed like whoever visited the city, made it their own and never left. Everybody knew everybody. Old French women came there and sat for hours smiling at everyone and looking at the sea.

There are many amazing “cafes” and places to visit in pondicherry but this post will only address the ones that led to moments of epiphany. Forgive me for this bias but what’s the point of having a blog if you can’t decide what to write. :)

One evening we rode our bikes to Serenity beach which largely differed in temper from Promenade. It was loud and angry it seemed or was it a full moon night, I fail to recall. We went to sit and eat by the waves in a tiny pink and white Cafe that offered delicious sea food. Having placed our order we seated ourselves. I noticed a girl about my age sitting alone on the table next to us. She was petite but exquisite. Her posture on the table with some of her belongings that occupied the chair next to her, an empty cup of green tea, a leather sling bag and a leather journal was all she had on her. She looked like a part of the landscape that lay before us. To be fair, I wanted to paint it, the whole paronama of this ethereal vision. She would rigorously write in her journal and then stare at the waves for a long time and then would write again. She had been sitting since before we came and it seemed like didn’t plan to leave any soon. My inquisitiveness grew and I asked her if she was working on a book? She smiled and said, “ No I am just writing my journal for my grand kids, they must know what I was like while travelling across India.” 

And that thought just stuck in my mind. I genuinely have never given a thought to even my next generation, leave alone the one after. 

One day we travelled for about twenty kilometres for what turned out to be a twenty minute adventure, but those twenty minutes were worth twenty more rounds of those twenty kilometres we had travelled. We took a  boat ride on the Ousteri Lake. I witnessed things I don’t feel capable of putting into words, but I shall try. The twenty minute boat ride was the closest I have ever been to nature, or so it seemed. I didn’t feel earthly anymore. It was like being transported to a land where there is just me amidst nature. The lake was full of lotuses (I had never seen so many lotuses ever in my life) and a very peculiar water growth in the centre of the lake which blossomed pigeons. I am not exaggerating. Each outgrowth formed a resting spot of a pigeon. And as soon as our boat reached about seven feet near them they all flew at the same time. I left a piece of my heart there, a large chunk of emotions and a feeling which I have never had before. 

The experience made me quiet, really quiet, my friends asked me if anything was wrong but all I could say was, “I don’t think anything has ever been right before”. 

Do yourself a favour and visit Pondicherry not for a weekend but a week atleast. There is so much more that I wish to say but I won’t. Somethings are better left unsaid so that one day they can become an experience. All I can say is, no one can take Pondicherry out of me or me out of Pondicherry, we both unhinged together and left a part of ourselves with each other.