The Beginning

July 26th, 2004.

A day with it’s spells of drizzles. Papa and me descended on to the longest (or the second longest as of now) platform in the world. I sighed; it was probably the filthiest platform I had ever seen in my life. Papa coughed, the look on my face probably revealed too much about my first take on Kharagpur. It was a big hell of a luggage. Mummy had packed enough supplies for me to last a year. She’d probably assumed Kharagpur was the Forbidden City. I was off on an indefinite war. We spotted a coolie and after some bargaining and a long walk, came down to the taxi stand. I was like I mentioned back, in no mood to take stock of the surroundings. I huddled up myself with the luggage in the Auto Rickshaw Papa got from somewhere.

“It’s a lush green place, son. You will like it here. There’s more greenery than what we see in Bombay.” Papa kept up the banter. He wasn’t going to give up cheering me but then he was fighting a losing battle.

It had been a miserable 30 hours in the Gitanjali express which took the shortest time from Mumbai to Kolkata. I had not slept the past two nights, the sorrow of leaving home weighed heavily on my mind. I tried to act tough and somehow managed to keep my face straight. The journey had been another flop with our co passengers being a woman and a devilish little child who kept chomping on puffed rice flakes throughout the day. He then kept up howling through the night and to make matters worse pissed on our suitcase while sleeping. He was all over the place. Pretty eventful I thought. Papa however had not been idle and was busy gathering information about Kharagpur picking up conversations with the other Bengali passengers. He unfortunately didn’t get much far.

Right then, after a 20 minute drive, we entered the Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur. It was the mother of all IITs, the oldest, the largest and the most diversified in all regards. It stood out distinctly, well distinguishable from the shanties lining up outside its boundary walls as if it was the very purpose for which Kharagpur had been born. I had been allotted ‘HJB / MS’ hall to reside. Since no distinction had been made, we halted at HJB hall and found out it was the wrong place. Father and son then loaded the luggage on a cycle rickshaw to proceed to MS hall (I hate using the word hall so shall omit it hereafter).

After a long queue and some forms, we finally got the key (or so we thought) to my allotted room. MS was new, so looked like a palace set against the ruins where our seniors lived. We had been separated from them to avoid us being ragged (A superfluous step). We reached my room to find the lock didn’t unlock. Now a very enthusiastic sweeper volunteered to solve our dilemma and broke open the lock with the hallmark of an experienced hmmm... lock breaker.

It was here that I saw another family climbing up the stairs. It was a trio, Father, Mother and boy. Incidentally even their lock wasn’t unlocking. We shrugged up and smiled. Papa took the lead and introduced him and me. They followed suit. The boy was Abhinav Upadhyay, Electrical Engineering Dual Degree from Udaipur. He wore an even more morose look then me. I was happy for the first time in three weeks. Here was a lad who felt the same shit stuff I had been going through. He was pale and looked tired. To do the honors, Ladies and Gentlemen I had just met the second idiot of this story and one of my two very best friends to be. We exchanged quick smiles and turned off to our rooms.

Papa is a man with terrific organizational skills and an enthusiasm which overrides them. He had the place ready within an hour unpacking and arranging the entire luggage. It was tea time; we entered the Mess (the place which I always wished to genuinely nuke). Samosas and a glass of watery tea later, I went down to deposit my mess fees. When my turn came, I suddenly realized our mistake. The lock on my ‘room’ was genuine after all. It was just that we had occupied the wrong wing. My actual room was directly opposite in the next wing. I hurried back and we scrambled up Papa’s handiwork and shifted to the next wing. The lock opened perfectly this time. An hour later, all was settled back again. I was finally in the right room.

I picked myself up to visit the loo, when I saw Abhinav coming out of a room next door to mine. But wait, I said, wasn’t he in the other block. He had committed the same mistake as I had done (You can now realize probably why we are two idiots). He had got a lot of books. Studious guy, I thought, would be helpful at times when I would require books to study.

In the evening, I told Papa I did not wish to eat. My forlorn mood was back again. He went down to have dinner. The next day was the registration (A grueling process). The day after that would be the first class and also the day of Papa’s return journey. I shuddered at that thought. How would the world be? I had never stayed away from family in my life. Here, 1000 miles away from home in an unknown place with strangers was an alarming proposition. But then, there was never any other option and Papa optimistically quipped about some obscure law which could be set up in the future to enable me to shift IITs. I slept quietly cursing myself and destiny. One mark had made the difference between IIT Bombay and Kharagpur.

The next day registration is something I will not bore you or myself with. Let it be remembered that it was a bad unorganized way of tormenting students and parents. By the evening, I was done. Next day would be the first class at IIT. I entered it to find that classes would begin next week. I went back to my room.

Papa had packed up and was ready to leave in an hour. We sat silently. The silence was torturous. Papa gave me money for the semester expenses and added “If you ever feel it, take the next train and come home. No one will complain. If you choose to stay here, Make your life and do us all proud.” He smiled.

He left soon. I did not go to see him off. I lacked the courage. Even he never looked back once, knowing that I would break. I had talked to mother and Devanshi, the previous day. Both of them crying had not helped matters. I sat alone in my room for an hour. Then I broke down and the tears gushed out, they were due since a long time. I had taken my choice. I had not traveled 1000 miles to sit and rave. I decided I would work my soul out and forget the grief. I recollected the triumphant smiles of my family members when I cleared the JEE. No, I would never let them down. I felt better after that. I dried my tears washed up and walked out to explore IIT Kharagpur – My second home and the place where I found my true self.

That day, I died and that day I was reborn.