It’s Still Complicated: …because I Am Still Waiting

IT’S STILL
COMPLICATED

…because I am still waiting

CHANDRA KANT JAISANSARIA

Notion Press

Old No. 38, New No. 6

McNichols Road, Chetpet

Chennai - 600 031

First Published by Notion Press 2015

Copyright © Chandra Kant Jaisansaria 2015

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN:
978-93-5206-282-9

This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to make the material error-free. However, the author and the publisher disclaim the responsibility.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For the girl whom I loved, and who, for a brief but glorious time, loved me back.

Tujhe bhul jana hamare bas me nahin, kash hum tumhe wapis hamari zindagi me la pate.

Ek mauka hume aur diya hota tumne to shayad, tumhe apni zindagi bana paate…

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My sincere thanks to the following people who have played an important role in the journey of writing and publishing this book.

My Mom
who has always been there for me. You have always encouraged me to realize and see that I fulfill my dreams.

Gita Negi
who has always been there as my mentor and showed me the path to fulfilling my dream of getting this novel published.

Vatsala Shrivastava
you are my best friend, thank you for always being there to help me to complete this book. You were always concerned about this book and asking me to complete it and supported me when I lost interest in it many times in between. Thank you for cheering me up and being ready to discuss the ideas of getting it published and marketing it online. You have been my best buddy and a big support in completing this story. You have always been there for me whenever I needed you.

Saurabh Sarawagi
my cousin, who read each and every part of the story and gave me continuous advice for the changes required in each part and feedback on all the chapters.

My relatives
who always supported my idea of writing this book and realized my dream of becoming an author.

My friends
who always cared for me when I was all alone with myself and keeping me alert on completing this book in time.

My Teachers and Professors
because of whom I am what I am today; they are God for me and I will always love all of them and be thankful that they have helped shape me throughout this journey called life.

And finally, those who started this journey with me and left me in between and those who joined me in between and are still there for me.

I still remember your eyes Beautiful like butterflies…
So silent so deep
Like an ocean which never cries…You have a fabulous smile Which has no price…
Your face, your style
Everything so nice…
Your heart is so pure
Like oceanic ice…
But without you,
My life is like a loser’s dice…When you are away
My heart dies…
My mind stops working
And my eyes, cry…
I hear your voice
Someday, sometimes…
But soon I realize
It’s only a dream with open eyes…

06th January, 2014

It was a rainy day with so much fog that if one stepped outside, one’s right hand could not see the other hand! At 2 pm in the afternoon, my phone rang and I kept my laptop aside, removed my quilt and left my warm and cozy bed even though I was feeling cold. I was quite worried and wondered to check if it was she who was calling. But no, it was some writer on the other side seeking time from me to meet me to get my story, a true love story which I always wanted to write on my own. “Sir, are you listening to me?? I am Kanika… I am a writer by profession and I could help you out if you agree… Sir…”

I disconnected the call and tears came rolling down from my eyes…

In Search of Someone

A
fter not getting admission in any of the colleges in Jaipur due to the limited numberofseatsand because of the rampant virus of our country called ‘Corruption’; I was very dejected. Corruption, because people usually give a donation to the college and only then get admission for their children. But my Grandfather was an ethical and principled man; he refused to give a donation. He said to me, “Be someone who gets chosen by his talent, not money, every father may not have enough money to bribe.” I got very discouraged with the 72% score in my mark sheet and felt like I was good for nothing.

It was sometime in August 2008 when I had come to Delhi for my college admission, I am bad at remembering the dates. I used to stay at my ‘Mamaji’s house in Rohini with my cousin Ravi. Ravi and I were best of cousins and he has a very calm and humorous nature; he never gets angry with me and I used to share a lot of things about my life with him. We both shared a single room and a single set of earphones while listening to the FM on my cell phone. We used to switch the channels the whole night till one of us fell asleep and if we were hungry late at night we were fond of eating Namkeens “
bhujia
’s”. Of course in the morning Mami would know about it and shout at us. She would say you boys don’t eat your dinner properly that’s why you feel hungry at night. We used to laugh at people noticing their expression and we both are very good at mimicry. Does Ravi have a GF, no he dint! But he used to talk to one of his friend’s Pooza, a lot, and of course I was jealous that I didn’t have even a girl as a friend in Delhi.

Alas, it was the time when admissions were closed in every college except in the School Of Open Learning (Delhi University) and a few private colleges. Mamaji tried to somehow convince me to get admission in some private college and do my BBA from there. But I thought that I should get a degree from Delhi University instead of some random private college which would give me a degree of some other state university board. I knew I would not be able to enjoy my college life like all other regular college students, because SOL is not a regular college, but somehow I convinced myself to get admission in SOL. SOL also arranges some classes on Saturdays and Sundays for the students and I thought the attendance of SOL is important, so I started taking classes there too. There I made a friend… Amit Thakur, he was from somewhere in Himachal.

We became good friends; we used to hang out in college when the teacher was not there in the class, we used to bunk classes, sit outside Vishwa vidhyalaya Metro station and talk to each other about the girls coming out and going inside the metro station. Amit and I decided that whoever found a girlfriend first would take his girlfriend to the place where we used to sit during our class bunks, and would not leave his friend just because he got himself a GF.

We noticed something during one of our sessions. We saw a girl every Saturday; she used to come and sit in the park outside the metro station and help poor children by giving them eatables and to the pigeons as well. Amit and I were super excited to see her every Saturday. One day we both took a chance to talk to her and we started helping those poor children and the other beggars, just to show off to her how generous we were. She gave both of us such a lovely smile and it made our day. We repeated the same thing next Saturday, and again won a smile from her. This time we planned that next time one of us will take her cell number. But then we couldn’t see her anymore, “
Kismet hi kharab hai yaar, chal ghar chal
,” a frustrated Amit said. We lost interest in the SOL classes and as time passed by we stopped going to SOL and meeting each other. This is the time when he stopped being in my life. I don’t even remember the first digit of his phone number. After all we have a tendency to forget old memories, which are not so important for us.

Then I started taking classes in NGPA, a private institute in Rohini, which was providing coaching to the undergraduate students for almost all the streams of subjects. A lot of students came on the first day of the institute’s first session and a lot of beautiful girls too. There was a girl named Simran Kaur who was sitting on the last bench. She used to talk to every smart guy in my class. You know the type - those who had a nice physique, good looks, a bike and a good looking phone. Delhi is a place of show off. The better you represent yourself, the better your friend circle is. Maybe it was my thinking but somehow they were better than me and I had to convince myself that I was not capable enough to talk to her. But at the same time I knew that she was noticing me.