It had to happen. It did happen. It will happen yet again in the future.
The title of this post is rather misleading. This was my second homecoming, the first was about a year and a half ago, but in the wake of the circumstances blinded off. This time, I took my turn to return back to the Mecca of my life, the sacred ground, my alma mater and my second home - Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur.
It's quite amusing to say this, but I had foreseen my homecoming. And yet more amusing is the feeling that occurred on the way back, that this was not my last visit to her.
The excuse to go back to Kgp was a Conference to present my work (not bad at all). Forget the comfortable flight from Mumbai to Kolkata, the train journey from Howrah to Kharagpur will remain forever confined to my memory. The 180 minute ride in a dusty congested local train to Midnapur will never escape from my cache. It was tiring to stand throughout the journey and watching over my luggage as people hopped on and off the compartment. The filth, the din and the constant coughs provoked me to despair but failed as I only realised the position I fortunately occupied amongst the millions of others in India. It was hugely contrasting to be amidst the royalty of Kolkata and then to be amongst the paupers of Bengal a couple of hours later.
All the weariness evaporated as the train crawled into Kharagpur. I could not have asked for a better weather. Good Old Kharagpur with its dusty platform and the cool breeze tickling the grasses and the weeds. The wounds of the past 18 months were healed promptly as I now taxied to the campus. For the first time I did not stand to bargain with the taxi driver and beckoned him to make the homecoming as hasty as possible.
IIT Kharagpur stood still that day, vacation time ensuring that not many people were on the campus. The Tower at Hijli however stood guard, stern sentinel standing tall and proud, warding off evil. To this day, the the sight of the sun behind the tower provokes awe and inspires me as it did for others during the days of the fight for independence.
The New Guest house struck me by surprise. The service was quick and prompt, the guesthouse does deserve its price tag, though it does need to improve on its lawns. I showered and proceeded to the next haven, the place where I met my best friends, the place where life flowered, the place where life grew - HJB Hall. It was empty and solemn as I entered it. The foyer was deserted. The place was as I had last seen it. The spacious central lawn, the flush corridors. Curiosity forced me to go up to my room. It was locked. Pandit's room to the right was unlocked. A knock on it yielded a prompt response. Soon I was surrounded by quite a few boarders, well met I quipped! Placements this year had been reportedly brilliant and the exuberance on the faces reflected this, If ours had been the batch to face the worse of the depression, I shook hands with this batch which had seen record placements within the first month.
Gautam was soon there, his bike turned handy as we later made for the Cafe Coffee Day, a luxury that did not exist at the time. With him, I first made way to JCB, the second haven for us, its canteen served us well for four years. The legendary Dipak Da had been ousted from the place which he had made his very own. The ousting of the old cavalier did reflect on the old canteen, it looked a shadow of its former self. Shantanu (A new truth discovered accidentally) had his shop running in order, as we exchanged greetings. Later, at CCD, I was pleasantly surprised by the unusually courteous waiters who took orders and delivered them efficiently. With an LCD Tv and its chic interiors, the place helps Kgp to take that additional step towards being world class. More than Students, it is a blessing to the Professors.
I had an excellent sleep, a deep sleep lain in wait for the exhaustion of a lifetime. The next morning was a busy one as I went about business registering for the conference as well as attending some thought provoking seminars. The morning was memorable by an event, I met and greeted Prof. Navtej Singh who had taken our first ever class at IIT. He was quite moved when I informed him about that. He was moved even more when I asked him about the professor who had taken our last class at IIT (This part was going to be the best of all and this itself made my visit worthwhile). Evening was always dearly awaited as I went back to HJB to reunite with a few old stalwarts.
In the afternoon, I visited the third haven, the Department of Civil Engineering. This completed my homecoming. It's a pity certain feelings can only be cherished, they cannot be expressed in words. That day as I walked down Scholars Avenue, I suddenly felt I had grown too old. It had after all been a couple of years. It felt uncanny walking down the avenue in full formals, the road which we trod in shorts and slippers. Bhaskis was still brimming with enthusiasm even in that chilly wind. Another session at CCD with Gautam helped. We went berserk that day, riding full throttle in the Kgp chill around the boundary wall road. By the time I reached my room, I was frozen. I must mention the excellent Pakoras Gautam stuffed me up with courtesy of his mother who generously prepared them so late in the night.
I will now come down to the last day of my stay. This day provided me the gas to throttle ahead in 2011. In the morning, I met Prof. Dhang who informed me about the whereabouts of the Man who took our last class in IIT and to whom we owe quite a lot of our sanity and skills. Prof. Majumdar did not take time in recognizing me (I duly consider it as the ultimate prize a student could get from his teacher) and soon we were immersed in our banter over a cup of tea at Tikkas, his favorite spot. He suggested me returning to academics, an advice which I politely declined (I have my reasons of course). He still retains the energy and the drive which perplexes me as to how glorious must he have been in his youth. For us (Dual Degrees from Civil) he symbolizes everthing IIT Kharagpur stands for. The morning pumped in torrents of inspiration and points to ponder about.
The afternoon united me with the remaining old guard of HJB Hall. The shopkeeper, the mess workers, the sweepers and the people manning the cycle stand. A long discussion with Sunil 'Da the shopkeeper was on the cards as he raved about the misfortunes the hall fell to since our departure (Bad old Kgp politics again). I assured him things would be set right ultimately, the hall which we had entered as amateurs and left as professionals has accumulated enough history to inspire its boarders and I promised him that process would never stop. One day the leaves would be back and there would be joy and rejoicing all around.
How many things I have left behind, I cannot quantify. This write up probably expresses one feeling in a thousand. I have done a messy job of it but this was my best. If only I could lay my hands upon Dumbledore's pensieve. I would have gladly stayed there a month but, alas bloody professionalism was my bane. As I left the campus in a cycle rickshaw, I reminisced of what I had gained and what I had left behind. There would probably never be a reunion of that fellowship again, perchance a miracle from out of the heavens. If only time had flown a bit more slowly, If only.
(Please listen to the song "God Only Knows" - The Beach Boys")
The journey to Howrah back was much comfortable this time if the excitement of getting on to the wrong platform and almost onto the wrong train may be ignored. As I saw station after station vanish behind me, I could not help but feel the immense feeling of admiration towards Bengal, the land of Tagore. Someday this land will awaken from the limbo and take its true place in the world, Someday.
I conclude waiting for that next feeling of clairvoyance.
The title of this post is rather misleading. This was my second homecoming, the first was about a year and a half ago, but in the wake of the circumstances blinded off. This time, I took my turn to return back to the Mecca of my life, the sacred ground, my alma mater and my second home - Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur.
It's quite amusing to say this, but I had foreseen my homecoming. And yet more amusing is the feeling that occurred on the way back, that this was not my last visit to her.
The excuse to go back to Kgp was a Conference to present my work (not bad at all). Forget the comfortable flight from Mumbai to Kolkata, the train journey from Howrah to Kharagpur will remain forever confined to my memory. The 180 minute ride in a dusty congested local train to Midnapur will never escape from my cache. It was tiring to stand throughout the journey and watching over my luggage as people hopped on and off the compartment. The filth, the din and the constant coughs provoked me to despair but failed as I only realised the position I fortunately occupied amongst the millions of others in India. It was hugely contrasting to be amidst the royalty of Kolkata and then to be amongst the paupers of Bengal a couple of hours later.
All the weariness evaporated as the train crawled into Kharagpur. I could not have asked for a better weather. Good Old Kharagpur with its dusty platform and the cool breeze tickling the grasses and the weeds. The wounds of the past 18 months were healed promptly as I now taxied to the campus. For the first time I did not stand to bargain with the taxi driver and beckoned him to make the homecoming as hasty as possible.
IIT Kharagpur stood still that day, vacation time ensuring that not many people were on the campus. The Tower at Hijli however stood guard, stern sentinel standing tall and proud, warding off evil. To this day, the the sight of the sun behind the tower provokes awe and inspires me as it did for others during the days of the fight for independence.
The New Guest house struck me by surprise. The service was quick and prompt, the guesthouse does deserve its price tag, though it does need to improve on its lawns. I showered and proceeded to the next haven, the place where I met my best friends, the place where life flowered, the place where life grew - HJB Hall. It was empty and solemn as I entered it. The foyer was deserted. The place was as I had last seen it. The spacious central lawn, the flush corridors. Curiosity forced me to go up to my room. It was locked. Pandit's room to the right was unlocked. A knock on it yielded a prompt response. Soon I was surrounded by quite a few boarders, well met I quipped! Placements this year had been reportedly brilliant and the exuberance on the faces reflected this, If ours had been the batch to face the worse of the depression, I shook hands with this batch which had seen record placements within the first month.
Gautam was soon there, his bike turned handy as we later made for the Cafe Coffee Day, a luxury that did not exist at the time. With him, I first made way to JCB, the second haven for us, its canteen served us well for four years. The legendary Dipak Da had been ousted from the place which he had made his very own. The ousting of the old cavalier did reflect on the old canteen, it looked a shadow of its former self. Shantanu (A new truth discovered accidentally) had his shop running in order, as we exchanged greetings. Later, at CCD, I was pleasantly surprised by the unusually courteous waiters who took orders and delivered them efficiently. With an LCD Tv and its chic interiors, the place helps Kgp to take that additional step towards being world class. More than Students, it is a blessing to the Professors.
I had an excellent sleep, a deep sleep lain in wait for the exhaustion of a lifetime. The next morning was a busy one as I went about business registering for the conference as well as attending some thought provoking seminars. The morning was memorable by an event, I met and greeted Prof. Navtej Singh who had taken our first ever class at IIT. He was quite moved when I informed him about that. He was moved even more when I asked him about the professor who had taken our last class at IIT (This part was going to be the best of all and this itself made my visit worthwhile). Evening was always dearly awaited as I went back to HJB to reunite with a few old stalwarts.
In the afternoon, I visited the third haven, the Department of Civil Engineering. This completed my homecoming. It's a pity certain feelings can only be cherished, they cannot be expressed in words. That day as I walked down Scholars Avenue, I suddenly felt I had grown too old. It had after all been a couple of years. It felt uncanny walking down the avenue in full formals, the road which we trod in shorts and slippers. Bhaskis was still brimming with enthusiasm even in that chilly wind. Another session at CCD with Gautam helped. We went berserk that day, riding full throttle in the Kgp chill around the boundary wall road. By the time I reached my room, I was frozen. I must mention the excellent Pakoras Gautam stuffed me up with courtesy of his mother who generously prepared them so late in the night.
I will now come down to the last day of my stay. This day provided me the gas to throttle ahead in 2011. In the morning, I met Prof. Dhang who informed me about the whereabouts of the Man who took our last class in IIT and to whom we owe quite a lot of our sanity and skills. Prof. Majumdar did not take time in recognizing me (I duly consider it as the ultimate prize a student could get from his teacher) and soon we were immersed in our banter over a cup of tea at Tikkas, his favorite spot. He suggested me returning to academics, an advice which I politely declined (I have my reasons of course). He still retains the energy and the drive which perplexes me as to how glorious must he have been in his youth. For us (Dual Degrees from Civil) he symbolizes everthing IIT Kharagpur stands for. The morning pumped in torrents of inspiration and points to ponder about.
The afternoon united me with the remaining old guard of HJB Hall. The shopkeeper, the mess workers, the sweepers and the people manning the cycle stand. A long discussion with Sunil 'Da the shopkeeper was on the cards as he raved about the misfortunes the hall fell to since our departure (Bad old Kgp politics again). I assured him things would be set right ultimately, the hall which we had entered as amateurs and left as professionals has accumulated enough history to inspire its boarders and I promised him that process would never stop. One day the leaves would be back and there would be joy and rejoicing all around.
How many things I have left behind, I cannot quantify. This write up probably expresses one feeling in a thousand. I have done a messy job of it but this was my best. If only I could lay my hands upon Dumbledore's pensieve. I would have gladly stayed there a month but, alas bloody professionalism was my bane. As I left the campus in a cycle rickshaw, I reminisced of what I had gained and what I had left behind. There would probably never be a reunion of that fellowship again, perchance a miracle from out of the heavens. If only time had flown a bit more slowly, If only.
(Please listen to the song "God Only Knows" - The Beach Boys")
The journey to Howrah back was much comfortable this time if the excitement of getting on to the wrong platform and almost onto the wrong train may be ignored. As I saw station after station vanish behind me, I could not help but feel the immense feeling of admiration towards Bengal, the land of Tagore. Someday this land will awaken from the limbo and take its true place in the world, Someday.
I conclude waiting for that next feeling of clairvoyance.
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