The NIMC Times 14th part

The NIMC Times

14th part

I bailed out of the heavenly NIMC zoo nine years back, but gave my word that I shall drop by and be inquisitive about my alma mater. And there it was, a reverie, to the lovely place once more, back to mist of the times gone by to see how it still stood, faithful, tried and true. Times when one hardly gets to think of past notions, of past explorations and of exploits, of past ambles and of scandals, the memory of which will make you go whimper of nothing but praying for its well being.

Almost past mid night, we took the onus of venturing back to where we once belonged. Moments whipped past by, and everything came to a halt as we entered the portals of the Command Hospital. The years flashed down like murmuring meadows, still thirsting for more. We were winded back to yearn for the times of yore and cherish them all over again.

Gooseberries took the better control of our pensive rare glimpses as we approached, tongue-tied, but still looking past Alipore in a whisker.

It was pitch dark, as we traversed the soggy patches of the sub tropical grasslands into the moist and mushy wilderness. But as we tried discovering ourselves back, we gave it an interlude and a joyful passage, and things were back about the same jaunt along the side track. With unbearable thoughts of limbic bursts, NIMC began to glow.

And as we approached back to the roads where once the pioneers treaded, silence succumbed to serenity and tranquility. By now the FOSLA is bark tiled for reasons unknown, an Allahabad bank now stands firm (at a location where once Bhatta sir stayed) to liquidate many fauji dad’s pension accounts for the welfare of jokers, ‘C’ block has now given way to the Mess staff, the volleyball court furnished with a boundary cage, an additional hut to cater to 240 jokers at the hard rock, locked parched doors by two day old jokers, secluded in their rooms, thinking the bright future in store for them, P-14 is a new block, creepers on the rear gate where once the jokers made their own webs, to name a few.

But not a trace of session in progress, in spite of the dwindling heat around. For jokers hardly know by now what traditions were and associations are; the legacy is perhaps blowing in the wind. Well by now you have an anti-ragging affidavit signed by students, enough to deter them to the unknown. It’s all a hearsay that a few can recount the anthems, songs and pledges that once formed a mandatory but obligatory oath before taking birth. And I’m sure warden has much time to herself than to be after platoons of jokers exhorting to the famous battle cry ‘How’s the JOSH!’  

I am confident that you, deep in your hearts still merely celebrate and value the existence of NIMC. As I have always felt, in true spirits of the NIMC times, the happier became the merrier!

Years may wrinkle our skin, but our enthusiasm shall never wrinkle our souls to revert back to the times gone by!

And those who ask the whereabouts of Mrs Makkar, 9830665266 will help.