BRAIN BALONEY

Fifteen days ago, we met at the airport. Oh no, I'm not about to narrate a romantic encounter; my French Exchange partner! Raphaelle looked like a little, shriveled up creature when we first met at the airport because first they had taken a train from Grenoble to Lyon, then from Lyon to Paris where they spent the night at the airport and then they took the plane to India; so everyone was very, very tired. And so it began.

There are so many, so many, things I could say about the past fifteen days, its not even funny. When Raphaelle came to live with me for two weeks, she was an absolute stranger to me. Our virtual conversation had been limited and we didn't know each other at all. And of course at that time, I didn't know that language was gonna give us so much trouble. And to spend all hours of two weeks with a person to whom you have never spoken in your life is a scary thought; especially if you don't share a common language.

The French pronunciation is so different that even if you know the word they are saying, you're not able to understand. One time in the car, Farah and Raphaelle asked me, "Can we 'ave zose, circle, circle, sweet zsingz, uhhh, orange and sweet?"
"Jalebi?" I asked.
"Yeah, yeah!" they said. "Can we 'ave zose with onioney?"
What I could make out of that peculiar word was...onions.
"You want to have jalebi with onions?" I asked, weirded out.
Everyone burst out laughing; jalebi with oninons would be the strangest thing ever.
"You know, zat, 'onee? 'Oneen?"
"Honey!" Jili offered! That makes much more sense.

There were so many hilarious situations like these, when we couldn't understand what they were saying and interpreted something else entirely. In the beginning, I felt like banging my head on the wall out of frustration but as the days passed, we understood each other better and by the time they were about to leave, I could complete Raph's sentences easily. If were standing in a place, Raph would say, "What we wait?" which meant, what are we waiting for. If she wanted to know how much time was left till we reached a place, she would say,
"How many times, we uhhhh, we....uhh..."
"-reach?" I would say, and she would nod. Every time they understood something we would say, there would be an expression of great realization on their faces and they would say, "OH! Oh yeahhh!"

And the French, or maybe Europeans in general, have amazing manners. Too much of them, if you ask me. After every second sentence, Raph said thank you. No kidding. When she asked me if she could take a shower and I would say, yes, of course, even then, she would get a big smile on her face and say thank you. It's very French to say thank you, she told me. And every morning and night, she would wish everyone in home good morning and good night. " At my 'ome, " she told me, " we wish each ozerr all ze time. My muzerr make me, uhh, kiss 'er goodnight everyday."
I can't remember the last time I kissed my mother, let alone kiss her goodnight. It makes me wonder if I'm a little ungrateful to the people I know.

Their food habits are equally proper. And strange, if you ask me. She eats no spices at all. She can eat anything at all, if there's no spice in it. And I mean no spice AT ALL. I don't understand how they swallow all that bland, plain food. I find food pretty much tasteless without spices.
"Izn't it....odd," she looked at me to confirm if the word she used was right or not. I nodded. "Zat in France, it eez so cold but we do not eat spice, but in India it eez so 'ot and you eat so many spice. It eez....laugh, laughing?" she asked me.
"Ironic," I tell her.
"Ironic," she says.
But I guess its okay, because the French are more fond of eating sweet stuff rather than salty. Her every meal is incomplete without deserts. There would be a nagging voice in their head if they did not eat deserts. And in the breakfast, they have never taken salt. Never! Once I made her try idli-sambar for breakfast and she ate one idli with such a disgusting face that my mother took pity on her and gave her her beloved bread and confiture(jam).
And they eat so little! They hardly take breakfast and don't even snack in between meals. I live on snacks! Partially, because no matter however much I eat, I don't gain an ounce but I think everyone here is quite fond of little snacks. Hence the snacks before dinner tradition in Indian parties. "We will starve when we got to France yaa, " Navya said to me. " I'm gonna take lots of biscuits and Haldiram packets to France, in case they expect us to wait for mealtime or something."
"But my brozerr eat so much," Raph told me. "I don't know 'ow can 'ee eat so much. 'Eee do a lot of sport. I'm sure, if 'ee do not do sports, 'ee become a very, very fat man."

This one time, Raph and I were waiting outside a restaurant for the others.
"Srishtee, " she says in her French accent. "In France, on zuh roads I see so many, so many people kissing and 'olding 'ands, walking togezzurr, but 'ere, I see nobody!" she held up her hands in surprise. "In our school too, zere are so many, so many coouples and zey are always kissing, but 'ere, nobody!"
It was quite funny.

And they loved traveling by auto-rickshaw. 'Tuk-tuk', they called them. Lets go by tuk-tuk.

But not everything was hunky-dory. My partner, and I'm not talking about the French in general, mostly didn't like Indian things. All she bought was 4 scarves and box, although she had carried a lot of money for shopping. She didn't like Janpath, hated Dilli Haat, couldn't stand Red Fort and didn't buy any souvenirs. She preferred going to the mall and the amusement park and parties and drinking rather than going to any historical monument or seeing anything ethnic. Which was a little disappointing, but it was okay because I tried my best and if they didn't take interest, it was their loss. I'm all ready to soak up everything French. :D

In the beginning, a lot of us couldn't establish a rapport with their partners. We were all so sick of them and their English. "These French people, " I said, "are like a bug you can't get rid of. And the worst part is, you paid for that bug. " We were all very glad when they were all taken to Jaipur without us for two days. Because staying with them all the time meant taking care of them every second of the day, and that is not easy. I will never take my parents for granted now. Even when we Indians talked, we talked about these French as if they were our kids; we discussed about their habits, their likes, dislikes, and all. So aunty-ish, I tell you.
And that when the French were so unconcerned and unaffected by all did we did for them. As soon as they saw their friends, they jabbered away in rapid French and forgot everything else. But I guess thats everywhere. Our teacher told us that we'll do the same when we go there, its natural.
French people were also quite flaky. Sometimes, their mood, humeur, was so good they couldn't stop gushing, how nice Indians were. And sometimes they were very curt and short. "I can't wait to go to France to create a fuss and watch them take care of us."
I couldn't agree more. These past two weeks, its like we don't have a life of our own. We take care of them all the time and have no time ofr our freinds, or for our hobbies. There's this constant nagging, worry in our heads if they are feeling fine.

There are just so many, so many things I've learned these past few days. Raphaelle is one of the most awesome people I've ever met. She travels so, so much and she told me all about her trips to New York and California and Egypt and morocco and Europe. She has great knowledge about every city she has visited and our shared love for movies made it very easy for us to make conversation once we were in the humeur. We have had so many long talks about different cities and places. You know how every city is mostly defined by a typical thing of that city? Like if someone says Paris, I would say fashion. If someone says New York, I would say Times Square or I dunno, maybe a fast paced life. If someone said USA to Raphaelle, she would say crazy people.Absolutely bizarre! And I used to think London is more industrial kinda city, more about jobs, Paris has more artists. But Raph says thats not true anymore. There has been a great mix of culture and you can't really define a city by just one thing typical to it. Its just a great, big, mish-mash now. In this mish-mash, so much mixes together and emerges as something entirely new and different. Like we start with primary colours, Red, Green and Blue but if we keep mixing and mixing, there's no end to the colours we develop.

We've had deep, insightful talks like these in addition to the extremely stupid situations. When Raphaelle saw my French notebook, she had tears of laughter in her eyes. " Zis eez my life, zuh things I do and you are studying eet! Eetz too funny!" she said, laughing.

It was quite sad yesterday, when the whole day we talked about her going away. Six months, we kept saying. We see each other after six months. "But you know, " Raphaelle said. "Six months eez nothing. Tell me, what izz six months in life? They'll pass like zis!" she snapped her fingers. "You go to school, you do 'omework, you ski in winter, make snowman, and zen you are 'ere!"

At the airport, everyone was saying all this cheesy stuff like, "Don't cry that its over; smile that it happened" and all that. But we didn't shed a tear. I mean, I was sad and all but I needed to be on my own for sometime now too!

As we were coming back after taking her to the airport, I remembered when two weeks ago, I had come to pick her up. When she had gotten in the car, she was sitting at the back and she had strapped her seatbelt on. I've never, ever put on my seatbelt, especially when I'm at the back. So I told her, "You don't need to put your seatbelt on, its okay." Raphaelle had smiled and said, "Ohh, everything's okay!" and kept her seatbelt on.

Two weeks later, her words seemed true. That yes, everything IS okay. Its how you make of situations that make them okay or not okay. You can get along well with a stranger with whom you don't share a common language or culture and have the time of your life or you can sit and crib and cry about it.
Everything is okay; its what you make of it. There were good times and bad times but, all's well that ends well.

This was just one small episode in my life; maybe I'll have many, many more like these. If I get to make new friends and learn new things about different cultures, lifestyles and maybe even languages, I'm sure I'll love it.

You know how everyone and everything, people, things, places, all have separate distinct scent? Raph's scent is still lingering in the room, I sometimes catch a whiff of it. But I know it'll be lost in a day or two.
 Until six months later.

Cuz its not the end; its actually the beginning.

Dedicated to Brinda Ma'am, the awesomest teacher ever.

Every once in a while, you hear something or see something that makes you appreciate what you have in life. That makes you thank your lucky stars. That makes you laugh at yourself for worrying about stupid, trivial things just five minutes ago.

I am talking to Daggu, and time flies by. We're talking. Still.

Commercials on TV are of all kinds. Some are funny, some are meaningless, and some make you search, look for the meaning. But...very rarely does a commercial stay with you, long after you switch off the TV (yeah I know, TV Philosophy! :P). The commercial I'm going to be writing about is not anything genius. There have been far better commercials in the TV World. But...

I think almost everyone must have seen the Airtel ad. Here's what happens:
Small Saif meets Small Girl. He wants to be friends, so he gives her a friendship butterfly locket. She accepts it. They become friends. But suddenly, Small Saif has to leave the town forever, for some unknown reason.
Many years later.
Small Saif is now big. He is lying on the bed, gazing at the photograph of Small Girl, who must've grown up now too (henceforth referred to as the Butterfly girl). He decides to go back and look for her. Woh fira yahaan wahaan, but couldn't find her. He passes by some kind of protest, and notices a girl in pink shirt. She gestures him to move forward. He does. Now home, or Hotel, whatever, he switches on the TV. On the news is the same protest and the girl in Pink Shirt. But the picture quality of Airtel Digital TV is so good, that he notices a butterfly necklace around the Pink Shirt Girl's neck. Its the Butterfly Girl! His when-I-was-a-Boy best friend! He rushes there immediately.
He reaches. He's about to go and talk to her when SUDDENLY, suddenly...Kareena passes by. Apparently, Saif's never seen a girl THAT pretty, because he can't keep his eyes off her. Now there are two things he can do: Revert back to his original plan- reunite with the Butterfly Girl OR...go and talk to Kareena. And it BROKE my heart to see that he chose Kareena.
Butterfly girl just shakes her head.

But, why, WHY in the world would he choose Kareena over his long lost best friend? Why? Is that how guys are? Ready to ignore a lifetime of friendship for a Kareena they've never seen before? Unless he was psychic and suddenly got a vision that he would marry her in the future, I can think of no valid reason backing his action. Do guys get distracted THAT easily? He came with the purpose of finding his friend. He found her, but chose to forget her just because he saw Kareena. Well done, Saif. Kareena is SO lucky.

I don't know why, but it made me incredibly sad.

Signing off as a faith-loser in Mars,
Srishti

Sometimes, even I can't find myself in this photo.
Oh wait...there I am! And there! Spot me :D

I think I can write a whole book on Alisha. There's so much to her.

But anybody who knows Alisha will first use the adjective 'nice' for her. The real nice.

She's so nice, so kind that it makes you feel : Why am I not like her? I remember, in our new class, there was a boy, who had a sort of mental problem. Not very severe, but enough to make him anti-social. He didn't talk to anyone in class and kept to himself. He knew about nobody, nobody knew about him. Early in 9th, Alisha once said to me "I feel so bad for Vishal. He's so lonely all the time". And I hadn't even noticed him yet! How shallow that made me feel.

I know she wouldn't agree, but whenever you talk to her, you get this inferiority complex. Not because she's so pretty, which is a valid reason too. But because she thinks for everyone. She feels for everyone, which has become quite uncommon in this self-obsessed world. If you're sad, she'll be sad with you. When you're happy, she'll be happy for you. When you're crying, she'll cry with you. And its not pretence. Its all genuine :)

But its not like she's a big bag of Mother Teresa! On no, she can be naughty too. Sometimes, its so much fun to be with her. I remember that in French classes, we-the french students, had to go and study in a different classroom. We were just 10. So we used to sit in the middle wing, in 6th or 7th. And the kids in those classes used to get loads of packets of chips and kept those in their desks. She used to eat all their Chips and FunFlips and whatever, and once she even put a note in their lunch boxes which said "Sorry ki humne tumhaara khaana kha liya, magar hum 100 saal se bhooke the" ! Its a different matter that she left money in place of those. But its French naa, she had to eat something!

Another thing which always amazed me about her was the amount of passion with which she loved the person she loved. In spite of the fact that he broke her heart repeatedly, she loved him . She gave all she could to that relationship, but unfortunately, it didn't work out. Everyone loved her- except the one whom she loved.

And the way she loved her dog! He was her best friend, Dollar , whom she liked to call Dollu , Dolly, Dolchu and whatnot :) He misses you too, Lishu.

She is one of my closest friends, and will remain so. Forever.

But here comes the twist in the tale.

On the night of 20th June 2009, Alisha with her family, moved to Maryland, USA leaving behind all she had ever known. The little world she had created in fourteen years, she had to leave. And start all over again. It was time for goodbyes.

You will be missed lisha, very much :')

All my love,

Srishti