9/02/2006

The NIMC Times Part 8


“Neath the Elms upon the campus, glorious to view,
Stands Eureka Alma Mater; faithful, tried and true.
When we leave thy halls forever, never to return,
Still within our hearts fond memories, steadily will burn.”

Those were good times, before nurturing replaced poking, before our volleyball was an Olympic sport, before the relentless pursuit of the cool breeze made us go for yet another trip. Return to innocence and you see your alumni, with the living years of the eternal flame. ‘Cas it’s a moment of pride getting conferred with degrees, by a top brass. And in real spirits when night inspections by CMP fellows who knew no bounds of this place! Good times were of the meet, when a meal seemed exotic and cholesterol a curiosity, when the ingrained “Hosh aur JOSH” had them perform for the alumni. Rather, its good gracious to associate anyone from this place. As for alumni, they’ve been adjunctly supportive, genuinely encouraging and fourth-year helpful as ever.

Back home again as I wonder. Poems, prayers and promises will make me go fonder. Why was FOSLA not so close by? Why were Eden Gardens down below the Jail? Why were rooms whitewashed just prior to exams? Why did thunder struck when computers sang the wind song? Who had reserves of Sutta? Who were the initial recipients of Pepsi? Did trees race to catch up the heights of the Cellular Jail? Why did doggies styled up for your extra love? Who constructed the Puliya? Who started T-TT? What happened in NIMC during Kargil war? Why were Sutta wala creditable or were they credible enough? Why wasn’t entry and exit the same in LH2? Why didn’t the Buggi get ready for NIMC? Why did the morning tea taste like a sad song? Who all scaled up the Cellular Jail? Why did rhymes and reasons fly away? Who started the Bhojpuri introduction? When did those tears go by? Who rolled in when you rolled out? Which Ruby Tuesday was in Mominpur? Who scripted the Howrah Bridge? Why did the race condition in normal affairs made out of the Scarborough fairs made you fall in scarcity? Why did homeward bound trains have a waiting list? Who used up the fire extinguisher from the WPL? But how come tickets were available for this meet till the last moment? Why was everyone blessed when the book ended? Why was the house of the rising sun never seen? Who induced JOSH in this institute? Who was evergreen and who was brain damaged? Who pumped up when others exhorted battle cry? Who was a one man’s woman? Who ruled? Who had a master key for lockers? When did liquor poured like never before? Why did sympathy ruled when you a mere 100 miles away? Why were nights in white satin always for Saturday night blues? Who started the smile wash? Who took your breadth away? Who stayed awake when you snored? Who wrote the anthem? Who spied and who messaged? Who locked and who scribbled? Who checked and who shot?
I wonder.

While their guitars gently wept in octopus gardens beneath savoy truffles. When jokes cracked in became a melody fair, happy only yesterday. Mr. Postman would remind us of them gone. For all we knew a song for you. And perhaps we’ve left a home for new kids in town. Take it to the limit, let tequila sunrise pour in for you to shoot sheriffs. We’ll ever blow in the wind this way. I’ll be missing you.

“People who saw the things happening, people who looked into how they happened, and people who made them happen, were all from NIMC”