Parul's Journal

On 'Sumthing of a Mocktale' by Soma Das -- where Kurta fell in love with Jeans after the semester ended, i was keen on getting back to lay my hands on some fiction. chanced upon..this new work by a first time writer-PH.Dstudent of Geography -on our very own JNU. somebody made an effort..and alot was left unsaid. its not a big book, a light read actually. the descriptions of PSR,ganga dhaba..tapti..the Centre..most important-the people and their lives...i realised that the places and their purposes change, the people and their lives do not in JNU. true, that there are professors who are the way they are described in the chapters...the friends and their ambitions are also like that. but what kaya and her friends go through is the average story of all the kayas and their friends across the campus. altho i would say that she missed out on alot too. the halla bol, the strikes, the politics and much more. the place is magical as it provides inspiration and depression both, dependin...

When JNUSU came together/The ‘halla bol’ culture The yellow-orange horizon was just beginning to get redder as I walked towards the parking lot of SSS1 after my viva got over. Clearly silhouetted against the sulpher red sky, I could see shadows flittering. As I moved closer, these took shape of people, the laborer’s and students. Women sat on a mat, peeling-chopping with sickle and men, at a distance were making fire. The menu was simple- dal, bhat and aloo gobhi. Before I knew it, I was peeling lahsan and washing aloo. Someone was washing rice and someone was trying to open a oil bottle, while someone was looking for a knife someone else was carrying buckets of water. There was so much around to be done and I could see the familiar ‘active’ faces of the campus giving their best shot. The next day, at the Administration Building, there was a protest demonstration where I heard the slogans of ‘halla bol’ culture for the first time. It was like a scene out of a 80’s movie where typically...

I think I have lost count of the number of planes that have crossed my head (Oh I wonder! was I even counting). They seem to appear just out of nowhere, with lights on and tyres out- ready to touch down, while others just zoom past, much higher. The breeze is getting unfriendly and making me freeze, the people around me start walking away from here to warmer places on the campus. Sitting on the top I can see the fog filled trees, the OAT, the tank, the far away buildings and of course the library. Our spot where all of come to sit at night and the field. People look so small from here, playing soccer on the dry field. The Qutub minar and the Bahai temple, where we plan to go during one day on the campus are both, out of sight today. The lights are out as the world begins to dim, much like my future. Sudden surprise, there is this wind. Far away I can hear some chants or maybe some people are singing. Now when I look up I can’t see the far away buildings. Thick fog and darkness. It’s th...