And so from the corners of the land, from Calcutta and Bombay, from Goa even as from Hyderabad, we converged upon Ahmedabad. How shall I describe those three days?

 

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.....no wait, that one's been used already hasn't it? OK let's see....

 

Perhaps I should wax eloquent about the red-brick campus at IIMA. The pleasant lawns at the Louis Khan Plaza. The fried rice at Cafe Tanstaafl ("There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch", if you please) and the subway going under the road to the new portion of the campus (added since my last visit). The curious squirrels chittering near the computer centre......

 

 

Or again, maybe I should focus instead on the deeds of my comrades-in-arms. Let me paint you pencil-sketches......Subba at his magniloquent global best, dressing down the top authorities with the same elan as he displayed in making winning presentations and psyching out other teams in the games......The Gentle Giant mystifying Siddartha Basu by his knowledge of Curiosita, Dimonstrazione, Sensazione, Scienza, Corporalita and Connessione, to the delirious screams of the audience.......The Lungi-master juggling his entourage (you notice I resist the temptation to use the words harem, seraglio or serail) and dancing the Dandiya into the wee hours of the morning despite an injured foot.......Abhijeet sitting in the computer centre every day selling computers, flowers, boats, diesel or whatever the game of the moment demanded and spending the nights with angels and demons.....Vinayak calmly cracking quiz after quiz (while not making small talk with PYTs with beautiful doe-eyes over breakfast (to my eternal regret, he unaccountably failed to introduce us to the pretty lady in question (I really must stop using nested parentheses, makes me look like a programmer)))

 

Then there was the weather, which turned unexpectedly cold at nights, to the detriment of my beautiful baritone. And the water whose depilatory properties threatened to turn my already sparse hair into an endangered species. And the satisfying breakfasts (I suspect the only reason people there get up in time for classes is that breakfast makes it worth the effort of getting out of bed). And the maze of similar looking hostels (which I managed to get lost in again, even though it's my sixth trip to the place). And yes, memories of a previous trip still lingered; while the more visible parts of the campus are in excellent repair, the outlying fringe buildings still show the cracks of the 2001 earthquake (that was the last time I rocked Ahmedabad).

 

And like all things, it came to an end. And early on 25th morning, we entrained for Bombay. Lunch with Niyati, an old friend, was followed by another trip to the alma mater. A little more socialising at the coffee shack, a visit to the ladies' hostel to scream at young Elanor for not blogging for a month (it had no effect, she's still not posted anything!) and finally, sunset by the lakeside followed by paanipuris and basundi outside the gate.

 

And then, off to Lokmanya Tilak Terminus to catch the train back to the land of lakes and lectures.

 

~lakesidey

OK, on to the second instalment of my travels.....

 

I arrived at home, as previously intimated, on the night of the 19^th (hmm, on re-reading this I realise it sounds like a courtroom statement: “Where were you on the night of the 19^th?” “I wuz home, yer honour, I swears it!” But I'm digressing as usual....) A warm welcome (and a very welcome warm bath after the geyserless environs of Noida) awaited me as my family took me to their collective bosom as if I’d been away for years. Delectable dishes were placed before me. A cosy bed awaited my time of repose. Life, in short, was good.

Alas, this idyllic state of affairs could not last. I had not been home twenty-four hours when the stern call of duty saw me take to the road (or rather rail) once again as I boarded the Konkan Kanya Express for Bombay.

 

Till now my luck had served me well, with confirmed AC III tickets in sundry trains. But now my luck seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. I arrived at the station at 6 p.m. to find myself holding but an RAC sleeper ticket. Oh, well, I said to myself. It’s only one night. I’ve travelled longer distances on RAC. And the gentleman sharing with me turned out to be a nice polite recently married guy (whose wife, incidentally, was in the neighbouring RAC berth).

 

But life is never that simple. The coach was one of those pathetic ones with only dim yellow lighting and a basin that leaked. The toilets had to be seen to be believed. And it so transpired that an entire school (or so it seemed) was travelling by the same train. The girls were quartered in the neighbouring compartment and sat around politely or demurely slept off. Our coach, on the other hand, was infested (no lesser word will do justice here) by the boys. A bunch of active lads whose enthusiasm did credit to the nation’s indefatigable and robust schooling system, they were under the supremely ineffective control(?) of a well-meaning young teacher. The guy was a classic example of the spirit being willing but the flesh being weak; he was putty in the hands of the little rascals. As the young scalawags clambered yelling around the berths in a manner strongly supportive of Darwin’s theories, I resigned myself to a sleepless night.

 

Fortunately the twists and turns of that night were not over yet. The fates were kind; at 9:30, when I had long given up hope, the miracle happened. The T.C. walked up and offered me a seat in S7 – at the other end of the train – which I gleefully accepted. What a change! The new coach turned out to be spick and span, with pleasant lighting and decorous well-behaved company. I had a top berth amongst elderly folks of impeccable upbringing and a most peaceful and pleasant night ensued.

 

 

Waking up refreshed with the prospect of a few hours in my favourite city, Bombay, I lost no time in grabbing a local train to Kanjurmarg and descending upon my old alma mater. The day passed pleasantly, with a few well-spent hours sipping coffee and playing scrabble at the good old coffee shack in the company of various juniors, punctuated by a lunch break (pizza at Smoking Joe’s in Hiranandani). The late afternoon saw me at the lakeside (my favourite haunt in days of yore) where I spent a short but poignant time remembering the good old days. As dusk crept softly across the city and the sun reluctantly slid down the western sky, I once more sallied forth. A couple of stifling local trains and a broken bag-strap later, I arrived at Mumbai Central, rendezvoused with my pal Abhijeet, and settled into yet another train, this time for Ahmedabad……

 

~to be continued
~~lakesidey

Another night, another spate of good resolutions, of plans to study and sleep. Another abject surrender to the joy of just living life. Several cold coffees and a pleasant stroll by the lakeside, and the night has culminated in a splendid dawn. Not even the thought of the exam I must face today can ruin this perfect, timeless moment....a moment of morning glory when the mundane road I traverse daily seems a pathway to mystery and enchantment.....

 

 

It's 5:45 in the morning. In precisely 36 hours, I will be through with another round of midterms. And two hours after that I will be safely ensconced in a train whizzing (or rather wheezing - this is Indian Railways after all) towards Delhi. I look forward to that moment with pleasure not unmingled with regret.

 Though I am fond of my campus, it will be a welcome break; several recent events have put a considerable mental strain on me and it will be good to have a little time away so that I can look at certain things objectively, from a distance as it were, and come to terms with myself. I do not know whether my actions of the past month or so were right or wrong, I know only that I could not have done otherwise. Cold comfort.....

 

Not that the impending vacation promises to be a week of unmitigated relaxation; rather the reverse in fact. Considerable travel (most of it, alas, alone) and much activity promise to fill the forthcoming fortnight. And thus, gentle reader, you will forgive me if am unable to keep my tryst with blogdom during this time. I promise that I will be back......

~lakesidey

A campus set amidst picturesque lakes and pleasant gardens seems like a salubrious place to spend a couple of years studying - Shantiniketan comes to mind. And indeed in the early spring it is a great place to sit outdoors and study (for those who have a mind to study, that is....:)


 

But in the monsoons, things are very different. One interesting phenomenon at this time of the year is the onslaught of the LGBs. LGBs, or Little Green Bastards, are tiny pests that reinforce one's belief in the theory of spontaneous generation of life; they suddenly turn up out of nowhere in their millions, swarming around any light source or any living being; and they are tiny enough to enter the smallest opening. For a week or two they make life intensely miserable. My personal grudge against them is that they seem to love coffee as much as I do.....but unlike me, they drown more than just their sorrows in coffee :( And I hate debugging.......

But LGBs are not the only side-effect of the sylvan surroundings. My hostel overlooks a lake which is currently on the verge of spilling its banks, and is well stocked with sundry denizens of the deep. And thus, in the wee hours of the morning, I found myself, armed with my trusty torch and broom, evicting a snake from a ground-floor room in my hostel. Admittedly, the poor creature was barely a third of a foot long, but it must still have come as a nasty shock to the poor inhabitant to find a reptile where no reptile ought to be.....

Having done my good deed for the day, I went off to fortify my nerves with a coffee (a cold coffee, with a lid on the cup, to defeat the nefarious LGBs) and then settled down to record the incident for posterity. Now its back to work for me - a long and exhausting day looms ahead.....and I have miles (to say nothing of an exam) to go before I sleep.

~lakesidey

Yesterday was one of those days. Everything happened at once.

Among other things, I went for a quiz (and was thulped in embarrassing fashion after making the finals with inordinate ease), ate again at Komala Vilas and was involved in an accident.

The accident (or rather taxi-dent) occurred thusly: we were in a taxi. The driver, in the usual manic style of drivers in this city, was zipping suicidally round corners and overtaking in a manner calculated to attract undertakers. What it did attract was the unwelcome attention of a traffic policeman. After an unpleasant altercation (of which I understood perhaps one word in five, it being in highly vernacular and uncomplimentary Bengali) he started to drive slowly off. Across a busy intersection. Still looking at the cop and muttering what I presume were foul imprecations. It was only when his five passengers screamed at him simultaneously that he deigned to notice the large truck ponderously bearing down on us. A judicious application of brakes saw us survive, shaken and stirred, but the taxi's front fender will never be the same again.

This one goes out to all my best friends.....you know who you are :) And special thanks to Shash for this piece - and also for being there.

I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.

I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.

I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;

I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can't help
Dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find.

I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern
But a temple;
Out of the works
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song.

I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good,
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
But now your touch,
Your word,
And all the signs
Sing of the joy
That is you.
You have done it
By being yourself.

Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means
After all.

~lakesidey

The monsoons took their leisurely time getting here. They stopped off at Goa for a prolonged holiday (I have it on reliable authority) and doubtless the pulchritudinous women of Bombay also arrested their attention for a not inconsiderable period. Whatever be the reasons, they sorely neglected their duties in the North-East till quite recently.....

Having finally arrived here, though, they are making up for lost time with a vengeance. Three days of incessant rain have sufficed to make my immediate universe a cheerless body of none-too-clean water with the occasional soggy archipelago sticking out. At least I have a warm(?) room, this bedraggled crow looked too thoroughly miserable and cold to even fly away....



My favourite spot, the jetty was declared temporarily out of bounds by the authorities a while ago. As this ban had no effect, three days back they took the sterner measures of dropping a huge heap of vegetation on the entrance, presumably to prevent people going there. Wasted effort; in the current state of the area one would need an Ark to get to the place....