Spring time in REC

Spring time brings back fond memories of "SPRINGFEST", a jamboree celebrating the arrival of the spring season at REC (now NIT) Rourkela. Semester exams over, the students were Engineered for fun. 

Weather in the steel city during end of February and early March was salubrious, neither hot nor cold. The mornings were cool, afternoons warm. The sun was warm while the air was cool, the perfect blend for festivities.

One of the major attractions in Spring Fest were female participants from outside. There was a saying during those days, God cursed Engineering girls to be plain looking (The Usual disclaimers apply and please don't shoot the messenger). 

A typical male student psychology, whenever we looked at a group of girls, our eyes used pry for a pretty face, often ending in disappointment. In the country of blind the one eyed woman can be queen. With few girls in Engineering Colleges those days, still fewer relatively better looking, some toon the advantage of turning into queen bees, attracting droves of boys towards them. Arrival of fresh faces from outside during the much awaited Spring fest, was considered as REGISTAAN MEIN BAARISH (Rainfall in the desert).

Still remember this funny incident. I was on the stage during the Quiz show, a popular item of Spring Fest conducted by O'Brien from Calcutta. (REC Rourkela was the only college to represent Odisha at the popular Siddharth Basu Quiz Time show on TV those days).

A car went to fetch our Quiz master from the Railway Station, but came back empty. We thought he gave the event a pass, scrambling for a last minute replacement. Suddenly the Quiz Master was stotted disembarking from a Rickshaw in front of AV Hall, the venue, bargaining for every Rupee he could save. We profusely apologized for missing him at the station. He wasn't amused, but nevertheless procceded to the stage.

One of his questions to the participants was "Which animal sleeps with one eye open and the other eye closed ?". No one on the stage could answer, following which the question was put to the esteemed audience. 

"So and so", some one shouted amidst the scores inside the Hall, uttering the name of one of our friends, known for his characteristic smile with one eye closed and the other eye open. The entire hall erupted with laughter. Our buddies from REC were creative, no doubt had great presence of mind with a greater sense of humor. 

The festivities concluded on the "Rock Show" night with hundreds engaged in bacchanalian twists and turns to the tune of the heavy metal music. Outside were drums of country liquor called BHATTI for those interested in some free liquor.

I was one of the volunteers assigned by our Cultural Secy to fetch it from a local hooch dealer at the junction of Sector-2 and Koel Nagar. No sooner we arrived, than the owner of the Hooch Store, a dark, burly guy with Walrus moustache jumped from his KHATIA (threaded bed).

He graciously offered us his samples in tin tumblers with big onion chunks sprinkled with salt and Bidi (locally made cigarette in India) as side dish. I took a sip of that fiery stuff, feeling it burning all the way down inside my food pipe reaching my stomach, clearing any doubts I had in my Biology class from my School days. My mouth was so bitter, I grabbed a bite of onion chunk laced with salt granules, snatched a Bidi from my friends hand, took a long drag to sooth my throat.

I always hated Bidi, but this time it was my savior. Then I took a big gulp, this time only water to wash down all the residual remnants of our DESI DAARU (country liquor), fomented at the local Rourkela Koel Nagar Distillery. 

Yet the elation of imbibing this premium Country stuff with friends, was no less than sipping any Premium Single Malt. Nothing has left such an imprint on my mind as much as the brand from Rourkela Distillery, graced with Chunks of salt laced onion. The drums were loaded on a trolley, we goaded it through our gate to the rock show venue.

Later in the night, it would act as the fuel propelling the Engines of the budding Engineers, as the Rock music concert commenced. The girls were giggling at our discomfiture, watching the proceedings safely ensconced within the locked gates over the 2nd floor overlooking the arena. They were the catalysts to the inebriated gyrating hips several feet underneath in the semi dark coliseum, a few throwing up the privacy of the darker corners.

Some, who were destined to collapse, would be dragged and loaded like sardines on top of the trolley. Drooling DAARU (alcohol) from their frothing mouth, with heads hanging downwards as the trolley trolls its way to the safety of the hostels. It would be the fitting finale to an occasion the students would be dreaming throughout the year.