Naam Yash.

Hey. Yash here. Naam to suna hoga.

This is my story. This is me.

This is my first ever blog and I know it will seem cringy in a couple of years but yes, this is it. I am writing this blog while sitting outside, the weather is great, just the way I love it. It’s drizzling and I have a cup of coffee beside me. With my laptop in my lap and a lot of thoughts jumping in and out. Pun not intended.

I know you know me already and that’s why you are here, but it would be great if you do like this try at writing a personal blog and do decide to share. Only if you think it’s worthy enough. And now, here I begin my story.

Wednesday is not a great day to be born, maybe the weekend could have been better. 27th of March in the year of 2002. Life was great, a day later Holi was celebrated in the whole of India. This year was supposedly ecstatic because you know, me being born and all. I was content too. Being birthed is not too pleasant an experience if you have to cry first thing after popping out but it’s fine. Ghaziabad was the city I had had the privilege of being born in. It is a suburban city in Uttar Pradesh but is very close to Delhi. Like really really close. It lies in what they call the N.C.R. (National Capital Region). It’s a fine city. Not too developed but also not underdeveloped. It’s a beautiful city and is still almost identical to what it looked 18 years ago. Being born into a neo-modern family is a privilege. I was privileged. I just didn’t know it then. Come on now, you don’t expect a newborn to know that right!? It’s funny though that I know people who haven’t recognised their privilege yet.

Mum and Dad separated when I was 1 and a half-year-old or somewhere around that. Nothing to be sorry for or feel pity for. It’s been better this way. Mum has fended and provided for me what even 10 families in Lutyen’s Delhi combined would have struggled to. She’s the strongest person I have ever come across. I know Mum, you are reading this and although I don’t say it, I am proud of you and Thank you for everything. Now back to me. Mum and I moved to Jaipur, she wanted to try her hand at business and entrepreneurship. For a couple of years, I stayed with her. Until it was time for me to start attending school. I was sent to study and stay in Ghaziabad with my Nana Ji and Nani Ji. They are the most wonderful and kind people I am going to across in this lifetime. We (the family) had an unspoken tradition of celebrating all the major festivals (you know, Holi, Diwali, Raksha Bandhan) together and that would be in Ghaziabad (our hometown). It was lovely being together for all the days we could, while the festivals lasted. This tradition of ours has weakened in the past few years.

Nana Ji and Nani Ji looked after me for years until I finished 1st grade. I had a fun childhood. When I finished 1st grade, Mum decided to put me in a co-educational boarding school in Chandigarh where my Mama Ji and Mami Ji lived. Chandigarh was everything that Ghaziabad wasn’t. It was clean, fun, and best of all it guaranteed me freedom. I liked it there. Returning to Mama Ji and Mami Ji's place for second Saturdays and then coming up to Shimla for a day or two made life in Chandigarh interesting. Life seemed great and yet sorted. I never knew Shimla is going to mean so much to me and that too so soon. I guess life would have been pretty simple had I stayed in Ghaziabad and not fallen for the ‘boarding schools have horse riding and bunker beds’ lie. But then, who wants a simple life.

Chandigarh was great, I would usually go to Jaipur in vacations and Jaipur is a lovely city too, it made me feel as if I was welcome. I didn’t know how difficult it had been for Mum to stand up for herself and create this empire of hers from scratch without any background in business. But Mum had made it. She had made it quite earlier, I just realised late. She had stood on her feet when nobody could have thought that a lady could make it in a man’s world. But she had.

Before moving to Chandigarh I had lost the most favourite person in my life. It is going to be very late when I realise what DEATH is. I was just told he had left. Left for where? Nobody told me, or they didn’t know how to. You see, Mum was the eldest, with three younger brothers. The second youngest had left too early. It seemed as if a big void had come out from nowhere. But I knew he was the one I would have run to if anything out of the ordinary happened. Now, I had nowhere to run to. No-one to run to. Nobody was worthy enough to take his place. No, not yet. Mama Ji had crashed his car in a truck. And that’s how he left, doing that one thing he loved. Cars and driving. He left behind his wife and a child. My younger brother. Aditya. He had left all of those responsibilities on us to teach him things that he should have been here to teach him. I am doing a pretty bad job right now, but I’ll improve. Hopefully. That’s how my favourite person deserted me. Oh, I miss him now.

Well enough, talking about Chandigarh. It was a lovely experience. I stayed for three years. Until 4th grade. I learned a lot of things there. Thank you, Mama Ji and Mami Ji for looking after me for 3 whole years. I don’t think whether I’ll ever be able to repay. Mama Ji in Chandigarh is the youngest brother of the three siblings. He now has a beautiful daughter of 2 years. Akansha. She better turns out to be the best amongst us. You might have figured by now, I am the firstborn. Woah, that seems so cool while I am writing this. Firstborn. That’s classy. Mum was the firstborn too. I really ought to use this word more. The second eldest brother amongst Mum and her siblings lived in Pune at the time when I studied in Chandigarh. He’s recently moved back to Ghaziabad. He’s taught me a lot of things, when I say a lot, I mean a lot. Thank you, Mama Ji.

Mum decided I shouldn’t become stagnant and thought there was one place that had a lot more to offer than Chandigarh ever could. It meant I had to move again, this time though I was excited. What I didn’t know that this decision is going to change my life forever, I am pretty sure even Mum didn’t think how big and wonderful a decision this is going to turn out. Thank you, Mum. The city I was moving to this time was Shimla, yeah, the hill station where you go for you know, travelling, hiking, snow and all. It’s a tourist place. You don’t expect people living there to study. Of course, they do, I just didn’t think about it then. Yeah, I know, stupid me right. But Shimla it was.

I first reached the said school in Shimla in maybe October or September, I don’t remember what date or what month it was. But I fell in love instantly. Mum had visited once earlier and we had returned that day because of the entrance test. This was my first entrance test, and I was ecstatic and nervous. I sucked at mathematics but I knew I couldn’t let that ruin whatever plans I had already conceived about this beautiful place. It was cold, very cold. Cold unlike I had ever felt. I knew I had to give my best. A lot occurred that day but that’s a story for another day. I returned to my previous school in Chandigarh later the next day. Silently hoping that I get through. Spoiler alert: I did.

It was early in March that the ‘new boys’ were asked to arrive. I had bought all the necessities the night before and was happy seeing them again and again. I know it was only blankets, pillows, new uniform and stuff but the way the trunk glistened in the shine of the rising sun made me a whole lot more excited but with this also came the apprehensions and the nervousness. I had never studied in an ‘all boys residential school’. I wondered how I’ll make friends, how I’ll live alone, will I be able to co-operate with all those who are going to be living with me. But then I knew they are humans too and will be thinking about the same things. This calmed me to an extent where I could think clearly. I started making plans, which I didn’t know were eventually going to go to the drain. Men plan, God laughs.

What I didn’t know was I had picked up a very useful and necessary habit along the way. I had begun reading. A friend (senior) from my previous school had gifted me a book as a farewell gift. The book was Roald Dahl’s The BFG (The Big Friendly Giant). It was a spectacular book and I had devoured it quickly. I knew there were a lot other better books in the world and things suddenly seemed interesting. I quickly developed this habit into an addiction or an obsession. Read all the classics, moved to bestseller fictions. I grew with every book I read. Just want to say here, Thank you Varun. So grateful for putting that book in my hand that day when I was leaving the gates of the dormitory. I moved out with a bag in my hand and looked back with glistening eyes, I looked at the board and read it for the last time ever. St. Xavier Senior Secondary School, Chandigarh. Sector- 44C.

I had not felt similar emotions when I had left the gates of Ryan International School in Ghaziabad. Although I still miss it. Maybe that gigantic piece of concrete that you so sincerely hate while you are there makes you love itself when you are out of that door for that one last time. This is how I would define a school. A building that you hate while you are there and start loving it unconditionally as soon as you leave. I have been privileged to have been able to attend such beautiful and enlightening schools. There is a special one that will hold a place in my heart forever.

Bishop Cotton School, Shimla.

This blog is dedicated to my family.

With love, respect and appreciation.

Yours,

Yash.

Book recommendation: The Free Voice by Ravish Kumar.

Song recommendation: Qurbat by K$AR.

Movie recommendation: Rang de Basanti.

Show/Series recommendation: Lucifer on Netflix.

If you’ve read, watched or listened to any of these and would like to talk about it, hit me up.

Want to get in touch with me, would love to know how you think the blog turned out to be?

Find me on Instagram @exclusively_yash.

p.s. This is an introduction blog, introduction to me, and the life I have lived so far. Upcoming blogs will consist of life memoirs and instances, also things I haven’t told anybody. They will consist of life instances. I assure you that with every upcoming blog, the quality of writing will become better and will become more riveting and interesting.

[Peace. Love. Respect.]