It is so heartening to see my junior batches of my Alma Mater NIT (Then REC) Rourkela celebrating their Silver Jubilee Anniversary of passing out from the coveted institute at this time of year. It is the equivalent of College reunion in American parlance. I was present there for the same occasion in December 2015. The occasion was a pure mix of joy and nostalgia.
On that balmy Rourkela winter afternoon while taking a stroll around the campus on the semi paved, dusty road, I met a group of students, a veritable mix of young boys and girls who obliged me by agreeing to take a selfie with them. In course of our tete-a-tete they were surprised to discover that I passed out from the institute before they were born.
I was asked where I am now and what I do ? I replied back - "I live in Georgia, US and work for an IT Company". One of them shoot me this, "You must be a big shot". "No, I am not", I replied - "I am a very small fry compared to numerous NITians who are highly successful around the globe". The institute has its stamp in Technocracy, Bureaucracy, 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 go.
On hearing to what I just said, their cup of joy was full, spilling all over in form of smiles from the boys and giggles from the girls, as if they just won an event in Spring Fest defeating their rivals. I added 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 at the gates of their Mecca.
I narrated them this episode from my ragging days when I was in my first year. A senior entered my room and found a photo of Lord Shiva hanging on the wall. He ordered me to stand with folded hands 🙏 in front of the deity and pray - "O Lord Shiva. My present life is wasted as an Engineer. Please bless me in my next life by making me the Gate Keeper of the Ladies Hostel where I can watch damsels all day and night long". My roommate was also forced to do the same.
It brought the young folks laughter to its crest. It was a heroic gesture to someone who did nothing heroic but was visiting his Alma Mater after decades. I cherished my 2 minutes of fame. When solicited, my parting advise to them was - "You are young, follow your dreams, even if it's the dream of being the Ladies Hostel DARWAAN. I could still hear their laughter and giggles which slowly waned as they melted away. I walked ahead.
When I told all these to the youngsters, making eye contact with them I wanted to dive into their dreamy eyes, live my halcyon days in their eyes, akin to a ghost entering a human body to revisit his past. I wasn't exaggerating my feeling. It was deja vu moment for me, for like them at their age I was young, I too had a dream, so I could very well relate to the dreams in their innocent eyes. Rengcolians are now in myriad professions, all over the globe from Timbuktu to Turkmenistan. Nowhere you will find so many students spread out after graduating, in such a wide spectrum of professional fields.
We have our folks in Civil Services, Post grads from IIMs, Xaviers, IITs and many prominent American Universities. Top class techies, managers, bankers, businesspersons, entrepreneurs dime a dozen from NIT, Rourkela they have 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), followed by choicest of expletives from Rengcolian vocabulary.
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 looking gray due to winter dust. The venue 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, munch on through out the day.
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 hadn't lost our sense of humor and camaraderie. Many of us have put on weight, developed paunch and double chins, some looking mature with their salt & pepper top.
We shook our salt & pepper tops and protruding bellies to the tune of songs from our batchmates, especially from Rajesh Dhabre, who kept on churning out one number after another. 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 - 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 me after the rendezvous with batchmates, some of whom I am sure destined not to meet again, never ever.
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