Yestersay, while taking a stroll around the campus, I met a group of students who obliged me by agreeing to a selfie taken with them. Our tete a tete continued, they were surprised to discover that we passed out from the institute before they were even born. One of them asked, "You must be a big shot". "No, I am not", I responded, "I am a very small fry compared to numerous NITians who are highly successful around the globe". The institute has its stamp in Technocracy, Civil Services, Research and higher echelons of the Corporate World. I told them how proud I am of my Alma Mater and you all should be, whatever you do, wherever you land up in future.
On hearing to what I just said, their cup of joy was full, spilling all over in form of smiles and giggles, as if they won an event in Spring Fest defeating their rivals. I continued further, saying how pleased I was seeing so many girls in NIT, compared to hardly a dozen from our batch. And how during our days a Rengcolian boy's dream was to get the dream job of DARWAAN (the Gate Keeper) of the Ladies Hostel, to watch the damsels toing and froing Mecca. It brought the young folks laughter to crest. When solicited, my parting advise to them was to follow your Dreams, even if it's the dream of being the Ladies Hostel DARWAAN. I could still hear their giggling, which slowly waned as they melted away as I walked ahead.
When I told all these, making eye contacts with the eyes of these youngsters filled with dream, I wasn't exaggerating and stand vindicated on my assessment. Rengcolians from my batch are in myriad professions, spread over from Timbuktu to Turkmenistan. Nowhere you will find so many students after graduating, in such a wide spectrum of professional fields. We have folks in Civil Services (one each in IAS, IPS, IRS), Post grads from IIMs, Xaviers, IITs and many prominent American Universities. Top class techies, managers, bankers, businesspersons, they are spread their tentacles in 6 continents, probably with the exception of Antarctica. It's said that if you throw a stone in California Bay area, the center of creativity and innovation, it might hit the head of a Rengcolian (as a NIT, Rourkela person from my time is referenced as).
Next day, we woke up to a sunnier and chillier Rourkela. A fun filled day awaited us at our batchmate Hardeep's farmhouse in Panposh, on the outskirts of Rourkela. Secluded, but filled with modern amenities and lush green foliage, it had ample of space and facilities to host an event. In the middle of winter, I discovered a bunch of green mangoes, hanging in clusters, barely few feet above ground. Varieties of lavishly laid food platters were spread out for us, to keep us munching on through out.
As the day progressed, it felt exhilarating to catch up with the past quarter of century and beyond. Our Sardar friends, Hardeep and Gurmeet were conspicuous by their bright turbans, shining like the sands of River Brahmani on a sunny day. Sands of time has seen many of us losing our hairs, apparent from receding hairlines and eggheads, but we haven't lost our sense of humor and camaraderie. Many of us have put on weight, developed double chins, some looking mature with their salt & pepper top.
We shook our salt & peppers and protruding bellies to the tune of songs from our batchmates, especially from Rajesh Dhabre, who kept on churning out one after another numbers. A Mechanical Engineer, now with IRS, a part of Civil Services, he has become a great singer, having produced his own album. Rajesh entertained us with a plethora of hits from 60s and 70. The long day finally came to the end, as the dusty twilight was soaked with our farewell tears.
ZINDAGI NA MILLEGA DOBAARA, life won't come again the second time. Such encounters in life reminds me of a passage from our epic BHAGVAT GEETA - that two logs floating in the middle of Ocean collide with each other, to get separated forever, never ever to meet again. Back of my mind I knew, the same awaits us after the rendezvous with our batchmates, some of whom I am destined never to meet again, never ever.
On hearing to what I just said, their cup of joy was full, spilling all over in form of smiles and giggles, as if they won an event in Spring Fest defeating their rivals. I continued further, saying how pleased I was seeing so many girls in NIT, compared to hardly a dozen from our batch. And how during our days a Rengcolian boy's dream was to get the dream job of DARWAAN (the Gate Keeper) of the Ladies Hostel, to watch the damsels toing and froing Mecca. It brought the young folks laughter to crest. When solicited, my parting advise to them was to follow your Dreams, even if it's the dream of being the Ladies Hostel DARWAAN. I could still hear their giggling, which slowly waned as they melted away as I walked ahead.
When I told all these, making eye contacts with the eyes of these youngsters filled with dream, I wasn't exaggerating and stand vindicated on my assessment. Rengcolians from my batch are in myriad professions, spread over from Timbuktu to Turkmenistan. Nowhere you will find so many students after graduating, in such a wide spectrum of professional fields. We have folks in Civil Services (one each in IAS, IPS, IRS), Post grads from IIMs, Xaviers, IITs and many prominent American Universities. Top class techies, managers, bankers, businesspersons, they are spread their tentacles in 6 continents, probably with the exception of Antarctica. It's said that if you throw a stone in California Bay area, the center of creativity and innovation, it might hit the head of a Rengcolian (as a NIT, Rourkela person from my time is referenced as).
Next day, we woke up to a sunnier and chillier Rourkela. A fun filled day awaited us at our batchmate Hardeep's farmhouse in Panposh, on the outskirts of Rourkela. Secluded, but filled with modern amenities and lush green foliage, it had ample of space and facilities to host an event. In the middle of winter, I discovered a bunch of green mangoes, hanging in clusters, barely few feet above ground. Varieties of lavishly laid food platters were spread out for us, to keep us munching on through out.
As the day progressed, it felt exhilarating to catch up with the past quarter of century and beyond. Our Sardar friends, Hardeep and Gurmeet were conspicuous by their bright turbans, shining like the sands of River Brahmani on a sunny day. Sands of time has seen many of us losing our hairs, apparent from receding hairlines and eggheads, but we haven't lost our sense of humor and camaraderie. Many of us have put on weight, developed double chins, some looking mature with their salt & pepper top.
We shook our salt & peppers and protruding bellies to the tune of songs from our batchmates, especially from Rajesh Dhabre, who kept on churning out one after another numbers. A Mechanical Engineer, now with IRS, a part of Civil Services, he has become a great singer, having produced his own album. Rajesh entertained us with a plethora of hits from 60s and 70. The long day finally came to the end, as the dusty twilight was soaked with our farewell tears.
ZINDAGI NA MILLEGA DOBAARA, life won't come again the second time. Such encounters in life reminds me of a passage from our epic BHAGVAT GEETA - that two logs floating in the middle of Ocean collide with each other, to get separated forever, never ever to meet again. Back of my mind I knew, the same awaits us after the rendezvous with our batchmates, some of whom I am destined never to meet again, never ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment