Note:- This post was guest blogged by Sambhav Kundalia. He studied with me at The Hyderabad Public School for a considerable amount of time during which we had a lot of fun times and quite a bit of fights too. After reading this post, if you, by some rare coincidence, wish to read more of Sambhav’s literary work, I suggest you visit his blog here. And after reading his blog, if you still wish to hook up with him for a date, send me an email, and I will probably forward it to him.

I’m the kind of friend that no one likes to talk about. So, when Kishor said that I could guest blog on his website I realized that this is probably the only time I can leave an indelible stain on something as significant as his website and perhaps scar his friends and acquaintances permanently. Kishor shall probably regret this for the rest of his life; this is going to be worse than getting a misspelled permanent tattoo.

Now that I’ve lowered expectations down to a reasonable level I think it is time for you to know me for the insidious individual that I am, which you shall as you continue reading, which I am sure most of you shall not as by now you have probably gone to the purveyor of porn you were looking for before you accidentally landed on this page. Don’t try and deny it, for better or for verse it’s your choice and I respect that. (If you still haven’t left, that putrid pun has probably given enough reason for you to leave now.)

I like to write about things that affect socially awkward teenage boys like me, for example I have written several times on the shortage of scantily clad girls with low self esteem and our dependence on foreign sources, on why flatulence is fancy and farting isn’t and of course the 2008 presidential election. I also occasionally write about nothing, just spewing random, inane fecal matter like I am right now. I like to think of the internet as a stagnant pool where floundering fish like me can make our ode to the ordinary and snatch attention away from the exceptional and the deserving by ensuring that whenever someone Google’s in “buffalo, bison mating habits” our blogs show up on the first page.

Don’t worry I shan’t talk about the mating habits of the bison and buffalo however interesting and fascinating they maybe. Today I shall talk about a day that all involuntarily celibate teenage boys like me dread, no not Chaka Khans’ birthday you idiots, I am talking about Valentine’s Day, a day of joy and celebration of love for some and a day of loathing and reverse peristalsis for others. I absolutely detest this day, for one despite what you might consider to be an obvious fact I have no girlfriend, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever had one for longer than a fortnight or two. The girls I choose to involve myself with either are on different continents; different earth-quake zones or sing along to the Spice Girls.

Don’t get me wrong; these girls were close to my heart and even closer to my wallet.

Anyway let’s move on, what’s done is done and I’m pretty sure if I stay a little bit longer in the organ-trade game I shall recover all my financial losses. Vital organs! Who needs ‘em eh?? (If you do, e-mail me!)

So this year since the only thing Cupid’s arrow did was poke me in the eye and make it gangrenous. I have, after several hours of deep deliberation and study, come up with a fun-filled Valentine’s Day for one. Here’s the itinerary-

1. Wake up, weep a little.

2. Watch the television show based on that boy without a bellybutton for the next couple of hours.

3. Call up friends who are busy with their respective boy/girl-fiends and talk about the terrific television show on the boy with no belly button.

4. Attempt and affect removal of belly button.

5. Write about the day on an unsuspecting friend’s web-site, after a brief visit to the hospital and a quick sobriety test.

Before I get back to wallowing in my cesspool of self inflicted misery and melancholy there are a few questions I’d like to ask, now that I’ve been given the opportunity to do so; and these aren’t trivial issues, but of deep socio-cultural and geo-political implications-

1. Why did Nelly Furtado dye her hair blond?
2. What’s your phone number? Yes you, the pretty girl who just minimized this page! Please!
   

Till next time this is goodbye; before I forget- if you can’t remember the last time you were dancing to the Venga Boy’s it probably is a good thing.

Unoptimistix.

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Note:- This post was guestblogged by Bhagyalakshmi Daga. She was my classmate in school for 2 years, is smart, beautiful and worth 5000 crores.

Ok. Introduction first. I’m Bhagyalakshmi Daga and my friend Kishor Krishnamoorthi asked me do this guest blog. I thought he was on crack.

He wasn’t.

Anyway. I’m here to talk about, yep, you guessed it. School. And yes everybody knows my story, but I’m always willing to repeat it again.

In Hyderabad, Where do you go after 10th? You either go to a junior college or you go to The Hyderabad Public School. I chose the latter. Did i make a mistake? We’ll come to that.

I can’t say i was happy initially. My friends, the one i left behind in my old school, decided to join junior colleges. I was the only one who joined Hps. And it wasn’t even my decision. No, all thanks to dad.

And i can’t say i was happy on the first day. Anything but. I was nervous as hell. And when i entered that hall full of kids (of my own age. help!), i knew i was going to hurl. Hps students were all known for being pretty forward and audacious (no offence) and i believe my old school was always considered beneath Hps. ‘What am i doing here?‘ was my initial response.

From there, i walked alone to my “new” classroom. On the way, i had the chance to notice how really pretty the school was. But i wasn’t going to let that change my feelings. I was still scared about everything.

In class, I sat down alone. Occasionally the girls would try to talk to me, but i was SO scared, i hardly talked. I probably came across as rude then.

And like things couldn’t get worse, our class teacher, Mrs. Michael asked my name in front of everybody. “Bhagyalakshmi” i said and the class burst out laughing. Oh well.

And lets not even go to the ragging part. The seniors came down to our class and asked us to be ready for some fun. And then they took us out and made some of them dance, some of them sing, and asked one to slap somebody. Oh and they asked me to say something i wasn’t able to and so made fun of me. Wait, didn’t i say we won’t go to the ragging part?

After this, i fell sick. No, not because of the ragging. Like really badly sick. Which resulted in missing nearly 4 months of school. I wasn’t complaining. I like being at home. But you know what happens in those first 4 months don’t you? Groups are made. Best friends are found. Bottomline - i was going to be alone again. And that bothered me. I enjoy my occasional seclusions, my solitude but loneliness is a harsh feeling.

You’re thinking, what exactly is she talking about? Did Kishor give her a place to simply vent all this out? No. You’re wrong. That was the first part. Now this, this part of my life, this tiny little part, is called “Happyness” (Ha ha. Way to copy Bl!)

My first happy memory, was being welcomed back. Real warm welcome. When i entered the classroom, nearly everybody jumped up to greet me. Everybody was SO genuinely concerned, that it was hard to push the tears back. Suddenly, i was happy to be back. I smiled my first real smile that day. I had arrived.

And the whole finding friends in those first 4 months thing? Yeah. Bogus. I made great friends almost instantly. And ok, maybe they started talking to me only out of concern, but hey, it was a start.

Things started to look up. And with time, i made best friends. Guys who hardly ever talked to girls, started talking to me. Girls thought i was “adorable”. Haha. Lunch time was my bonding period. I remember Fatik, Sohaila, Kishor, Rithvik, Basheer, Urmez and i would sit and talk about ANYTHING possible.

Came Mrs. Jhansi, our commerce teacher. I thought it would be rude if i don’t mention her, so i decided to. I truly, honestly believe, that if it weren’t for her, our class wouldn’t be half as exciting as it seems. Putting our heads down when she’d teach. Making fun of her for the random-est of things. Making buzzing sounds. Shouting at one another to interrupt her. Eventually she’d yell “Sprain in the neck you all are” and stop teaching. God, we did SO much to piss her off.

And Mr. Babu, our accounts teacher. I will teach my little ones all his excellent one liners. “Kaman kaman, open all of you”. Haha. Long Live Mr. Babu.

And then, came the dance concert. The one event that really bonded us all. We bunked classes, we danced, we laughed, we cried. Getting into the costumes, and making fun of them, yet somehow feeling each one looked their best. The salsa that we were all excited about. Rang De Basanti would get us in a patriotic mood. And Superstar! How the guys cheered when the girls danced. Wanting to hold on to every moment. Giggling like crazy on the shouts of “once more!”, and actually really wanting to dance again. Getting disappointed when the principal said no. We bonded over it all. “Class 11 is the best year of my life” i once told Krutika. She smiled. She knew it was true.

But it was short lived. Class 12 brought some nasty surprises. For all of us. I’m not getting into that. Because this is supposed to be the happy part.

So what I’m going to do is, I’m going to list the top 10 moments of Class 12, In my opinion. :

10. End of board exams.

9. Watching Germany Vs. Argentina’s match at Abhinav’s place.

8. Bunking Mr. Sanjeeva’s class by simply hiding in the girls room.

7. Teachers Day.

6. Dance performance at the Horlicks Wizkids.

5. Freshers at school.

4. The last few days with Mrs. Mira Raj.

3. Sports day preparations.

2. Music competitions.

1. Mrs. Jhansi’s classes.

So yeah. That more or less sums up what i wanted to say. I might have hated coming to Hps, and i might have hated the people initially, but that opinion has changed over time. I may still not call Hps the best school in the world, but it is most certainly the one school that changed my life, for good. It made me more informed, more mature, more friendly, more confident and made me an all new person. It gave me some of the nicest friends and some beautiful memories that i couldn’t possibly forget.

Back to where we began. I chose the latter. Did i make a mistake?

Still need an answer?

I think not.

*Hums the school song and walks out.*

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