Spring and Springtime

We are having some Springlike symptoms in Georgia though winters isn't done yet. I can take my afternoon walk without wearing any warm clothing. The birds are out on a twitting spree "Tweetwoo tweetwoo.. tweetwoo...", with no restrictions to tweet as put by their social media counterpart Tweeter. The other day I saw two crows kissing each other seating on the pole near my home. Feral cats coming out of their hibernation, lazily rolling and somersaulting in my backyard, chasing squirrels. Like nip in bud, the nascent Spring is in the air. 

Two squirrels kept chasing, trying to catch each other's tails and striving to run each other out. Chirping little birds crisscross the western sky as an array of Pelicans passed by, cawing PAON PAON. Far above in the sky two commercial jet liners crossed over, painting a thick white tailgating strip, forming a gargantuan X sign on the sky, as if eager to welcome the spring. 

I could see the giant good old Oak tree on my yard, standing tall and cold, tired after fighting the old man winter. The early signs of nip in the bud protruding on its branches exites the tree like a ripe old man who gets exultation upon suddenly seeing his erection in the middle of night. The tree reminded me of the lonely "BRUDHHA (Old man) JARADGABA, the Vulture from the Jataka tells hell bent on protecting the birds chirping on its branches from the charlatan cat eyeing upon them. 

Spring time brings back fond memories of the "SPRINGFEST", a jamboree filled extravaganza sandwiched between a cold winter and a brutal summer, celebrating the arrival of the spring season at REC (now NIT) Rourkela, my Alma Mater and the halcyon days of many those passed from the institute. Semester exams over, the students were geared up, Engineered for fun. 

Weather in the Steel City of Rourkela in north Odisha during Spring is salubrious, neither hot nor cold. The mornings were cool and misty, afternoons bringing a warm comfort of a body wrapped in a comforter. The sun is luke warm while the air stays cool, the perfect blend for festivities. Like young buds of leaves and flowers sprouting from trees, the minds of Rengcolians are young, they too have a budding dream with the first touch of Spring in their youth. 

One of the major attractions in Spring Fest were female participants from outside. There was a saying during our REC days that God cursed Engineering girls to be smart but plain looking (The Usual disclaimers apply and please don't shoot the messenger here). A typical male student's psychology, whenever he looks at a group of girls, his eyes pry for a pretty face, often ending in disappointment. In the country of blind the one eyed woman can be the queen. With few girls in Engineering Colleges those days, still fewer relatively better looking, few plain looking girls took 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 the cherished REGISTAAN MEIN BAARISH (Rainfall in the desert). 

Still remember this funny incident. I was on the stage during a Quiz/trivia show, a popular item of Spring Fest conducted by O'Brien from Calcutta. (REC Rourkela filled with brilliant minds with Elephantine memory was the only college those days from Odisha to qualify for the popular Quiz Time show hosted by Siddharth Basu on Doordarshan, only TV channel available those days). 

A car went to fetch our Quiz master from the Rourkela 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 spotted disembarking from a Rickshaw in front of the venue of AV Hall, bargaining for every Rupee he could save. We profusely apologized for missing him at the station. He wasn't amused, feeling slighted, but nevertheless proceeded on 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 not only creative, they 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 esophagus (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 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 were destined to collapse. They were dragged and loaded like sardines on top of the trolley to the safety of their room - Drooling DAARU 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. Gone are those days of Spring and Springbreak. ZINDAGI NA MILEGA DOBARA (Life never comes  twice)