Mirambika

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A couple of days ago, I went to watch A Lot Like Love. I thought I wouldn't be able to see it because the timings were during work hours and the movie was going off theatres this week. Lucky I got off work. Dad didn't want me to go because he felt it was volatile in Gurgaon after the riots, so I didn't. Turns out office actually WAS functional that day, but I never went. Instead, I went and saw the movie at 2:25 at PVR Saket. (I've already sorta seen the movie, but it was a ripped off DVD I bought in a flea market in Bangkok. The print was terrible, the sound even worse, the subtitles didn't make sense, and the movie was fragmented. So I wanted to see it properly.) LOVED it. Chick-flicky, but really funny. Wonder why it took so long for hairdressers/directors to realize that Ashton Kutcher looks illegally good with that haircut. I've always liked Amanda Peet too.
Afterwards, Dad picked me up. We stopped by at Ashram to pick up those biscuits Papa loves so much from Matri Stores. While he was conducting a delighted inspection/collection of the different varieties of biscuit, I slipped out to stroll toward Mirambika, my school till seventh grade. It's magical somehow, the way the smell of Neem trees and soil, so indigenous to Mirambika, hits your nose the moment you begin walking down the Sunlit Path. It's exceptionally green this time of year, with the monsoon in full swing. The wasps are gone, and the trees are leafy, and there's no yellow in the grass; a little brown near the goalposts of Big Field, where water collects, but other wise all green. Sri Aurobindo's statue doesn't look as massive and imposing as it used to, and the elevated platform on which it stands isn't quite as high as I remember it as, but the majesty is intact. The spiritual well-being I always took for granted as a kid, while at Mirambika, begins to return. It's clear they've been working on the campus. I can almost believe the school's back to the days when it was noticed as a fantastic alternative education. There's a stone table and a set of benches shaded by trees, just beyond the statue. It wasn't thereearlier, but it fits perfectly with my memories of the place. I can just see ten year old Apurba, Aftab, and Dhruv, the mischeif-making trio, plotting some stupid prank or other. Heh. It was fun. I reach Neem grove and see they've reconstructed the old mudhut, complete with a thatched roof. Brilliant. I wonder if the kids here realize just how lucky they are.
At this point, I turn around. For some reason, I don't want to go into school and meet people. I compound the feeling with the reasoning that Papa must be waiting for me, and form a solid excuse to leave now and come back later. On my way back up the Sunlit Path, I meet Tara Di, the owner of the entire foundation. The owner by default because her family funded the establishment; she doesn't really have their vision. She is walking with a guest, most likely showing him around the campus. "Hello, Tara Di." She says hello. "How are you?" She says she's fine. Formal and completely indifferent. She doesn't recognise me. I'm an unimportant Mirambikan, not one of the grade pulling, fame bringing overachievers from Mother's International. I walk on by. She's not one of the people who represents the spirit of Mirambika to me. Not so much as Sulochana Di, or Baren bhaiya, or Gandhi bhaiya, or Vijay bhaiya, or Shankar bhaiya. At the thought of these people I smile inexplicably wide. I feel like the 12 year old I was when I was here, except older. I feel real. I feel like the person I should be. And its not just this time. Whenever I come to visit, I fit more comfortable into my skin. I know that whenever I need a reality check, or a complete reboot; whenever I need to feel like myself again, I can come here. And that fallback is absolutely priceless.

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