Reminiscing Bhadrachalam

1^st of August, 2006.

15 days before completing one year at Bhadrachalam, I left the place.

This time, maybe, for good.

And as always, just like everything else in the past, and just like every other time before, I had trouble letting go.

Yes, the place had its share of creeps. The place had its share of woes. The place had its share of inducing frustration and pessimism in the most hopeful of souls. And the place had its own little basket of goodies. The place had its own little pleasures of life. The place had its own brand of people, each different in his own right, but each with a bhadra-ised soul.

My soul had begun the imperceptible yet inexorable transformation too, before a few rude jolts pulled it back.

350 days of first professional experience were not just about the work aspect of life. There was a lot more to learn, a lot more realities to face up to, and a lot more people to cognize up to. And not all of it professionally. There were moments – moments that were looked forward to, moments of revelation, moments of once-in-a-while pure and innocent happiness, and moments of achievement too.

Mundane moments, worth zilch in the grand cosmic scheme of things, but important, because they all are now irremovable components of the human being who is different from what he was 350 days ago. The eagerly awaited Saturday nights, booze sessions under swaying eucalyptuses, languorous Sundays, slumberous Sunday movies, and deathly pale Sunday maggie, the once-in-a-while cricket matches, the more-often-than-not badminton games and the once-in-a-lifetime paloncha, useless discussions with the singular purpose of killing time, never-stop-grumbling-at-‘Adithya TV’ meals, bhadra page 3 parties (yes, that too!), occasional late evenings tucked away at ‘gemba’, munching data, sipping chai, and talking garbage, little chulls across lives, little quiet birthday celebrations, and little outings across the river, unabashed cribs and unashamed entertainment, and the not-so-thin line between the two – it could go on and on. Confessions, when in flow, just never cease.

A lot of emotions are due, which will never be actually vented out. Ranging from gratitude, to anger, to exasperation, to happiness, to downright cold nonchalance. To one and all, though spelling them out individually would defeat the shroud that the generality of it all otherwise imposes on it.

Here’s to you, Bhadrachalam.

For those unnecessarily nostalgic hangovers.