Days Homebound - Volume IV - "Before Flying"

 Days Homebound #29

18th Jun '20

It's a pleasure to be back at the institute after 'Days UnderDoubt'. Our curriculum is in a hybrid model: half of the sessions online and the other half physical/offline. It feels weird sometimes as we are on the same premises yet interacting through different modes. It's like a game of Hide and Seek. Or rather a treat of 'Hide and Seek.' Quite literally. When you are the last roll number in class and do not appear on the webinar panel to the lecturer, don't think the others aren't watching you sneakily snack on screen. Damn, that's what I call 'delicious' alliteration. Ashok captures this and places his demand for a few cookies.

Days Homebound #30

20th Jun '20

Kitchen's always been my most favourite place (from stealing chocolates, to being the official food taster for mum's recipes, to being a spice-whisperer and to finally cooking regularly) but this one's special. Being a poor imitation of Gusteau to Dhananjay's amazing Remy as we take to the FSI kitchen. The coconut prawn curry was a memorable meal- a recipe that I'd replicate in the days to come (but parathe humaare bas ke nahi the... next time perhaps- someday across latitudes.)

Days Homebound #31

22nd Jun '20

Mediocre songs deserve mediocre performers. The super chill(ed) hostel lounge became the go-to place for movie nights, pool/snooker games and a whole different level of random stuff.

In this case, the audience was too generous. Even after repeatedly snubbing their requests, Nikhil, Dhruv and Anchita were kind enough to not throw their chappals at me. Sai politely left the drums and Ashok didn't stop recording until the creaky table of the lounge broke the sound barrier.

Days Homebound #32

Jun - Jul - Aug '20

When the world comes to a standstill, you need to keep moving (while staying at one place)...spot-jogging life... Groundhog Day(s). Wake up. Do things. Sleep. Repeat.

Amidst this Covid induced monotony, hitting the badminton/tennis courts became the single most exciting part of the day. We played for hours. Days. Months. (Not to forget midnight 5-setters). The racquets broke, the nets got torn, the shuttles got disembowelled...and then they were all replaced by new ones (of the same kind- quite Groundhog Day-ish) and this is what sustained us: to score 21 or hit aces or just run around waiting for the wind to stop and play to start with what they always say in the beginning: "Love all."

P.s. Ashok Macha's omnipresent camera captures all these moments. "Macha, I think people should start paying me for this lol," he'd say one of these days.

Days Homebound #33

Jul - Aug '20

This is where I'd say, 'Words fail me' and she'd say, 'no, I guess you failed the words.' And I'd say , 'No!'... but still agree.

I'd say, 'Perhaps I wanted to fail them.'

She'd say, 'Perhaps you knew you'd do so.'

I'd say, 'Perhaps.'

She'd say, 'Perhaps.'

I'd say, 'If Marquez were alive he'd definitely write a piece on 'Love in the time of Corona''.

She'd say, 'He would need a hundred months of solitude for that.'

I'd say, 'Perhaps.'

She'd say, 'Perhaps.'

I'd say things and label them 'random'.

She'd deconstruct them and say, 'It all makes sense. It isn't random at all.'

I'd say, 'Perhaps.'

She'd say, 'Perhaps.'

I'd write her poetry, she'd giggle and then explain to me what I wrote, deciphering every single reference.

I'd say, 'You really got the whole thing.'

She'd say, 'Perhaps.'

I'd say, 'Perhaps.'

She'd told me once that for some unknown reason she liked even numbers. I'd said 'Me too!'

She'd said 'That's odd.'

I'd said, 'Perhaps.'

She'd said, 'Perhaps.'

This post is no. 33.

I'll say, '3 is odd. But both the 3s are even.'

She'll say, 'Perhaps.'

I'll say, 'Perhaps.'

She'll say, 'I see Words are failing you.'

I'll say, 'No. This is where I fail the words.'

She'll say, 'Perhaps.'

I'll say, 'Perhaps.'

Days Homebound #34

Jun - Jul '20

When you can see the entire galaxy spiralled in these little delicious bites, it is hard to resist. Mother baked cinnamon rolls every week, I assisted her and got them delivered to friends at the FSI hostel. These 'deliveries' would give a different meaning to 'sugar rush' (so much so that they would just tell me to leave the hostel, go home and get more). I must confess I ate a lot of them on the way. Perks of being the 'intermediary' I guess.

Days Homebound #35

21st July '20

Soumya: Itne mahine ho gaye, chaat papdi nahi khaya. Ber Sarai chalo, kha ke aate hain.

Smriti: Eating out isn't safe. We are in the middle of a pandemic, remember?

Me: Ghar chalo, khilata hoon.

Dhananjay: Masst. Chai bhi mil jaaye toh..

Mummy (on call): Done.

Meanwhile, Taipei, Berlin, Paris: *evil smile* "Chaat papdi LOL"

Days Homebound #36

23rd July '20

The last lecture. The batch of 2019 IFS officers congregate in full strength in a 'lecture hall' for the last time- considering the impending vagaries of space and time that our careers are going to be. Two jewels of our group- Namgay and Phurpa, the two diplomats from Bhutan would soon return home- to their families.

Both of them have been extremely kind and warm. Not saying this because they always appreciated my jokes but because when they disliked them they just nodded politely. Here's to a spree of long conversations during meals about sleep, life and happiness. And also a bit of K-drama and Bollywood. Hope to see them soon.

P.s. colour coordination is coincidental.

Days Homebound #37

24th July '20

The valedictory ceremony. Never thought I would be receiving an award for forcing people to watch and discuss movies that I liked...that too from the Hon'ble Foreign Minister himself. I guess that's some Soft Power influencing capability right there. The Cinema Committee won the Best Committee award and why not? After all, the hall looked like a PVR.

Days Homebound #38

3rd Aug '20

They call it Raksha Bandhan. We call it 'let us trade a thread for some money infront of the elders to falsely reassure them of their continuing patriarchal traditions meanwhile gathering some fuel for revolutionizing gender relations by discussing how we should both tie the thread to the constitution as our protector rather than one of us asking the other to be some sort of a psuedo-mercenary.'

That being said. This photo was taken in June just before the Sis left for Kupwara (haven't met her since). So this Raksha Bandhan was about more chocolate for me. Basically, I am the one with the sweet tooth and she's the one with the strength, the intelligence and the sense of humour- that I try to steal. Try to.

Her reaction to this would be: "Oh. Ok. Par doosri photo ka point kya hai?"

Days Homebound #39

17th Aug '20

A month of desk attachment at the Ministry did not diminish my love for monsoon. This might look like a Tide advertisement but the fact is that the shirt is more wet than white. Behind the tree is the South Block. When you keep running around in the corridors of power and policy...you sometimes prefer roaming near the green trees that obscure the radiance of Lutyens' force.

Days Homebound #40

20th Aug '20

All paperwork done. Tickets booked. Paris is one week away. An insanely long shopping list awaits to be acted on. But first things first^

Days Homebound #41

28th Aug '20

Listening to John Denver would be cliche on the day I leave on a (jet) plane. And good byes aren't my forte at all. So my homies do their part.

Mother, as always, walks me till the threshold.

Father tells me what awaits me beyond it.

Sister writes me a cool parting note and tells me to shut up and walk.

My heart gives me a compass so that I don't get lost. And a diary to write if I do.

Birender Bhaiya tells me to keep drinking fresh juice.

Gaitonde, the FSI cat, unfortunately or fortunately the last 'person' to see me off from the institute, doesn't give a damn.

And I fly.

(Not noticing the threshold).