That's my name, written in the Devanagri script and in my own handwriting. You will pronounce it correctly if you know the language Hindi. I had almost grown used to being called Bik-ash, in the Bongland (West Bengal) and I thought that was the worst that could happen. I only had to come to Dallas, Texas, USA to be called Y-kas, cowboy style. I think I will go to my death bed as my last (hopefully) incarnation as Vik (Wick).
I was born and brought up in Delhi, India, but I find that I have grown apart from the city over the last dozen years or so. The change is mostly due to my time spent away at other places. Still, I feel entirely at home the moment I step down at the Indira Gandhi (IG) international airport or the New Delhi railway station and hail an auto for Shakarpur (Yamuna paar).
My earliest memories go back to the Vanasthali Public School, near my house that seemed so far away to my legs then. First there was the main school office in the U block itself (where my house is). Then the old toad (the principal) bought a piece of land locked land across the road (Vikas Marg) and I studied under the tents. I have faint memories of attending classes under monsoon dripping tents, a big orange water bottle that myself and my seat-mate used to steal and drink from, a morning prayer session, stomping around in the mud and rain water, the walk back home in the sweltering summer sun, … All I have from that remote past is a bunch of disjointed memories and faces. The worst part is that they become fainter and fainter every year.
I studied at Union Academy Senior Secondary School, Gole market, Delhi, from fourth to sixth class. I vividly remember the premises, the neighborhood, the playground and the classes. The *dhobi-ghaat* right behind the school, the mid-day lunch hawkers selling fresh carrots, radishes, dates, … and what not. I remember a few faces that I thought were my best friends for life: Abhijeet Bhattacharya, Sachin Saxena, Yashpal Chopra, … That was the era of most fun and least studies. We used to look forward to the lunch breaks, having eaten our lunch beforehand during the morning classes, and would step out at the first ring of the lunch bell and play football or frisbee…
Those best friends were left behind and were replaced with new friends from Delhi Public School, NOIDA, where I studied from seventh class till the school was to be no more and I found myself leaving behind the good ol' days in the summer of 1992. The transition was mostly imposed upon me by my father who thought better of my future.
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