A story tree grows..

A branch added to Eroteme's story tree..

He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather's words "You will fail in the city and return penniless"; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, "Don't worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site." Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23.

Pushing his luggage under the seat, he sat close to the window. "Papa, when will you be back?" - his four year old daughter Munni asked innocently. He stared into those soft brown eyes of the motherless kid. He held her frail palms in his, through the window. "Munni, Papa will get you a nice gudiya from the city..Say tata," his sister spoke to the kid, to avoid an emotional outburst. In a minute, the train pulled forward, and Munni's little fingers parted from between his. "I need to go..", he thought, "I have to, at least for Munni's sake.."


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Everything below the dashed line above should be copied and pasted with every accepted tag)

This is a Story Tree and is best nurtured as follows:
1. A blogger can add only 90-100 words (not more or less) at a time
2. All previous snippets of 90-100 words need to be copied before the new set of 90-100 words are appended.
3. Each entire snippet should be linked to the respective author (and not just the first sentence or so)
4. Characters, scenes, etc. can be introduced by an author
5. Bizarre twists, sci-fi, fantasy sequences are best avoided.
6. A tag must be accepted within 7 days else the branch is a dead branch
7. After appending 90-100, the Story Tree can be passed on to at most 3 bloggers.
8. If more than 1 branch leads to a blogger, s/he is free to choose any one of them but cannot mix the snippets of the individual branches.
9. The Story Tree is best left to grow than concluded
10. Please attach the image of the Story Tree below with each accepted tag (the link address can be copied and used).



I would like to tag Rathish, RS and Ammani, to continue this story..

To BITS, with love

Today, I talk of a small place that housed many dreams, aspirations and a single spirit that bound many people together. It housed me, a tiny dot in that big ocean.

Some months back, Amrita asked me, "You are still rooted to that place, aren't you?" That shouldn't come as a surprise. The place she was talking about, is a speck in the Rajasthan map: Pilani. That day, she was the victim of my rambling.

What would you call this - Irony? I talk of a place that has almost been shadowed, after the turn of events in my life. I came out an engineer, and now I am a writer. I think of this place and all the events linked to it, everyday, even if it means, in a trivial way. It's almost four years since I graduated and the bitsian slang still refuses to slip out of my routine..

It simply isn't easy to forget. The moments of pride that came with wearing those bitsian tee-shirts, the hungama in the trains, when travelling from Madras to Delhi and back, the group of friends that came together in the most unusual way, the first birthday at BITS with people painting your face, the corridors, the classrooms, the EEE lectures, the never ending list of tests, the mess food, the lawns, the 5 maddening days of OASIS, the spirit of our cultural departments, the innumerable treats, the blooming romances, the crushes, the trips, the laughs, the smiles, the sighs and the tears, the affection of the sweetest friend, her never ending support, the solitary rides on my bicycle round the campus, the chilly winters, the warm razais, the lazy wintry afternoons, the beautiful february spring,


the miserable summer heat, the tired PCs, the gossips, the small monthly budgets, my room, my cupboard, my table, my bank account, the home sickness, the letters (no, not mails), the night outs, the gatecalls, the professionalism that grew in you, the small successes, the heart breaking failures, the spirit to fight on, the 'just for the heck of it' pictures, the farewells,the second home, the people, their variety, the place, the place made most beautiful by the people in it..It's they who carved the beautiful memories that I cherish now..It simply isn't easy to forget.

Talk about reflections. Now, hasn't it really been a while?

Sometimes I wonder why I resist change so much, why I find it so difficult to go with the flow. Friends, with whom I have spent almost every minute of my time, now seem so distant and far away. In no time, our lives have taken totally different paths, from a period where we flowed together.

Change, it is so hard to live with. But, that's the way life works.. It's tough, but I just move on, holding these memories along..

This is to BITS, with love..

When every word counts..

Dreams. They rose like high tides, crashing against my heart, dying as silent whispers on my lips. I watched them play; Beauty, Paradox, Passion, Trust.

Finally, I spoke, you didn’t. You smiled.

Today you bend down, to place roses on my grave. I see them. Tears. My man, don't..please don't..it hurts, worse than death, sweetheart..

(Thanks RS , for the 55 word tag..)