Many Partings

This is duly owed to a certain Balachandra Suri, who kept prompting me, so better bash him rather than me.

Saw this coming a long time ago, but am feeling the magnanimity of these moments now, four glorious years coming to an end, watching our batch mates gear up for that final assault, the final endsems of our time. The four year term which we we hated, we loved, we abused, we cherished, we laughed, we cried, we poured our heart out at last has approached. KGP has indeed made men out of us boys.

Amidst the thick of this term lies a place with more sanctity than IIT itself, the place where things happened, the place which played a tremendous part in our fortunes (atleast for me), our abode where we thrived and the place which brought and united a multitude of cultures so diverse. Yes all paths lead to HJB hall at the end, the god forsaken and the most unwanted place on the campus for many, but blood and religion for us the untouchables ( as I would name us).

Second year B.tech, led into a hall with Mtechs, a vegetarian mess and no seniors absolutely to 'teach' us 'life'. Hallmarked and looked down upon by the same friends who once used to march with us. This was the starting of our culture which to the disbelief and utter disapproval of our decision as we had taken a step so outrageous that shook the very philosophy of the Btech community.

It was a great evolutionary period as we set upon to build that so called famous tempo (read as hooliganism) in our hall. Participated in almost every interhall in the autumn semester with all possible gusto. Tried all things that defined second year life in other halls. Tried to understand the philosophy behind all those things which made life in other halls so 'interesting'. But we lost and emerged the wiser. The year saw us bag gold in Product design, a team of ignorant 2nd years with some fabulous support from 'Matkas' which made the presentation at the eleventh hour. As usual 'They' couldnt tolerate it. Accusations of plagiarism followed instead of a thump on the back and a 'Job well done' compliment. Yet we carried on participating in Illumination and Rangoli ( This was a stalwart effort of 5 people over a 48 hour period, masqueraded by apprehension and utter inexperience, but we created something(quite authentic and different from those stupid montonic themes solely meant for bagging a price) which was screened on the local channel news and appreciated by the local folk. hardly did those gymkhana morons care.)

Next semester watched us being trounced in cricket, winning badminton and tennis laurels and watching our hold on tech GC get slimmer with every competition ( we were second in the tech GC before the spring semester started).

The year ended and we emerged yet wiser. Understood the Futility of it all. Thus was born the brand HJB , with a no care attitude. A mixed hall culture ensued once again, and the year ended with people parting as dear friends.

Amidst this transition time, people stood out in gold. Krishna, Nishan, Bala, Puneet, Gautam, the list will go on, who proved towards the end that they were no different a product from their counterparts in other halls. Bagged plum jobs, had excellent internships and equally (if not more) active as their contemporaries.

This is what defines HJB, the ' I dont give a damn ' attitude. We were, We are, We will be rebels. And so happily this has found its way to the newcomers who are so much like us without any orientation. Long live this transition and may HJB endure for years to come.

Great Expectations

I close my eyes. And ...
I behold the crimson sky, turning a shade pink, so liberally accommodating the meager things, the morning dear embracing all and rendering a new birth of hope.
yes I see it.

I close my eyes. And ...
I see those raindrops trickling down, the lincoln (coloured) leaf, pearls of mirth of the law that binds this world together, parching the indigo soil beneath. Reflected through those raindrops shone the Sun proud and clear, unhindered, unblemished.
yes I see them.

I close my eyes. And ...
I see the Hijli Tower, standing in all its glory, beckoning history to go ahead with it, a stern sentinel heralding a future of great hopes, great dreams and urging the need to discover new truths, to tread on paths alien to all but time.
yes I see it.

I close my eyes. And ...
I glimpse those waves, angels of fury of the ocean which hath all but bash the rocks in her fury.
I glimpse the rocks, silent witnesses to the rage which she bringeth and the cries of the sea gulls.
yes I see them.

I close my eyes. And ...
I find them beaming at me. The truth in their eyes connecting with me, the sparkle of ecstasy too precious but priceless to miss, the radiance on their faces as they behold my future, deeds to be done of greatness and nobility.
yes I see them all.

I close my eyes. And ...
I hear the rustle as the air tickles those trees so modestly yielding to the tomfoolery of the wind, taking the birds into the game, their chirps reverberating through the air.
yes I see them all.

I close my eyes. And ...
I see the ray of hope, masqueraded, shaded, impeded yet not tarnished, the ray of hope carrying the subtle truth, bearing the flicker of emotion which flags us to go ahead, the fuel on which the engine called universe runs.
yes I see it.

I close my eyes. And ...
I see Truth herself, bedecked in all her glory, graciously taking all in her sway, ..

Aww .. Hmm .. I am sorry Professor.

Vintage KGP

And I am back again, the same lousy dingbat having nothing better to do. It had been heavy bombarding of kgp in my previous post ( which has touched me from within). I guess I had been too hard on kgp. This post is thus dedicated to my love-hate relationship with KGP - My second home and ... the place which taught me how to live.

It would be the most befitting to start with MS hall of residence which was my first home in kgp. A bustling place with enthusiastic first years inducted through the hallowing IIT JEE (something which played such a massive part in deciding my destiny). First years( Alas except for me who was too doleful to take part in that marvellous celebration of life) who were extremely jubilant and eager to grind out a career out of this nostalgic place where legends have been made. It was a great place to live in with its small but snug single rooms ( a luxury which every IIT is not able to provide). Its spacious lawns and the ambience was charming ( not for me though who was befuddled being away from home for the first time in my life). I took my time finding my feet in this place. But boy when I found them I have since never looked back.

MS hall was kind of a rehabilitation centre for me. It mended out all the voids which had been so precariously concealed within me and presented me with the opening of new frontiers. It made me break the cast of that home grown boy, who had always some one near him to take care of when complications arose. Here that some one was 1000 miles away, so I learnt the first very important point of life: Befriend your neighbours ( obviously those with scruples( this itself is a very debatable word, but I have my ideas clear). I thus found solace in my newly discovered friends ( who are to remain for life). MS hall reinforced the bond and here I had discovered a new family which albeit being different from me in so many ways shared the same fundamentals which were instilled in me. Life now started rolling on and the doleful boy of yesterday moved on to start smiling(something he had not done since he had passed JEE).

It was a rigourous schedule, early morning classes meant that I had to wake up an hour early, brush, shave and bathe( something which people have taken for granted to be ignored in kgp). and then queue up in the mess( this topic has been justifiably dealt with before) to stuff up Toast bread and tea. The classes were a source of dissappointment for me. It seemed to me that I was losing my sharpness in attacking problems (something that had taken a couple of years and gala efforts to culminate). It seemed to me that the sharpness which all of us possessed was being lost out due to lethargy and also apathy from people who never pushed us far enough to go and tackle tough problems. Well, that sharpness has been lost but can be retrieved.!!.

I recall vikramshila of my first years, a complex which filled me with awe, I remember sitting in the afternoons after the class and beholding the breeze pushing the grass behind, the songs sung by the rains during sundays and also Prof TKB 's lectures. I especially recall the NCC training wherein we had to report religiously every saturday 5 minutes before time to a gruelling 3 hours of leg stamping and yelling. The NCC complex was another serene feature of the campus. I savour the moments at Tikka's when we used to club 3 rupees with our five rupee coupon( the award for patiently stamping legs and acting like robos) to purchase a bottle of 'Slice'. I fondly recall the TFS, where I watched movies ( duly censored to eliminate the last iota of skinshow). I had been ousted though for the same reason ironically ( actually I had dared to enter Netaji Audi in shorts, the most audacious attempt made to villify the sanctity of the place according to the authorities. anyways i had avoided causing any future furore by offering to change into jeans).

The examination times were always tense times for me ( I laugh when I recall them now, But those too played a part for the metamorphosis that took place in that year.)

The 10 day NCC camp was just enough to cement up my relationship with the institute for ever. It was a survival challenge to me and I emerged out of it wiser, those 10 exhaustive days of running, running and running convinced me that all a man required to get through life was patience. But then I enjoyed my time with my batchmates in that chilly kalaikunda cold. We savoured those four monaco biscuits with tea served on the dilapidated runway after a hard hour's march. The silence and the beauty of the thickets around the place astonished me, It also did proud to me that I was able to observe AIR FORCE planes which would in other cases not be accessible to me as a civilian. The evenings in the billet were all fun which used to culminate in deep slumber as we counted the days left on the camp.

I can't just believe that I have started writing how much I love kgp as a place and I have covered so many lines and yet not even started to break the crust over the mantle.

My first year went on, those saturday evenings which had mess off were another experience as we used to gobble Maggi Noodles ( Yes this comes better than what you can make at home) and tea. Springfest was another time when the same community feeling was rekindled as a croud of 7000 unanimously cheered STRINGS as they performed live in front of us. The victory feeling when kgp won the fashion show which made us erupt into tempo shouts ( seniors, juniors all together) is still fresh within me. Phew, and to think this would only be the starting of the journey which so far has always excited me.

To acknowledge your patience, I would stop here, First year ended with decent academic( though not outstanding) grades,butI had learnt my social lessons and cleared them with excellent grades. we were alloted senior halls ( though the road ahead for me was to be different) and It was a happy home journey for the summer with so much to tell my family( who still blinks when they see the amount of change in me).

A Kgpian for ever!!!!
P.S: Second year tales to follow.

Kharagpur Cuisines 'Touche'

Ah well, I am back for another bout of gibberish. It's really good to blog while you are under a shitload of work and have no idea as to how to shirk it off. Well immersed in this muck upto the neck, I am hungry and obviously thinking about Home Sweet Home. It's been almost four years now since I was introduced to the ' La Cuisines' of Kharagpur.

These defy any notion about a balanced diet that the so called nutritionalists cherish and preach with vigour. These also challenge the very basic tenets of hygiene so zealously preached by teachers in school and embedded in our primary textbooks. These would be the nightmare of any chef( who would quit cooking if he saw the lesser ones of his race conjuring up platters of dishes so eloquently named in the menus). It's time to explore the recipes I have been subjected to during my ' wonder years ' (indeed I am still wondering even now how did I end up here). Before embarking on this voyeurism I would like to claim that I am a stout vegetarian (atleast I believe so that those blasted fiends calling themselves cooks have not tricked me into eating anything illegitimate. But can I call myself a vegetarian after I gobbled up an Aloo Paratha which was roasted in a Pan which had previously been employed to make a double omlette. Ignorance is indeed a Bliss!!)

All paths lead to the Mess now. The mess ( a very fitting name for that place. Wonder who gave it such an apt name) is a hive of activity with men energetically humming on to prepare the lunch and the dinner fare. Huge aluminium vessels, rusty knives, a pungent odour enamour the mess along with the constant din of the mess workers along with the splurging of water from our very deceptive washroom. What a place for a Grand Hyatt Chef to write a treatise on " 1000 ways to avoid a messy kitchen".

Getting on to the food, Its a non spicy, non oily stuff, weighed down with potaoes( the pauper's delight) in almost all items on the menu. The Chappatis come in two incarnations, the papad one and the rubbery one or if you are destined to be lucky you could end up with a decent one. The Dal (pulses) with an alarming regularity is a suspension of fluid and solids, the latter ending up at the bottom with scores of fillers that the cooks employ to weigh down the dal. The curry as aforementioned is an unscrupulous mass of potatoes with a rare stick or piece of some other vegetables poking out( if you are lucky to get those). The rice is all but edible for a Human. When it comes to the specials ( indeed it's a rebuke as they are specially intended to make people feel once in a while), its mainly hardened paneer(read potted cheese) with some gravy intended to make a person feel cheerful. The puries ( wheat discs inflated by frying) are a manifestation of wastage of precious oil which by the way is another source of mystery for me. The solitary sweet and the chocolate complete the fare.

So much for the lunch and the dinner( I could fill an encyclopedia on these but for the scanty time I have at my disposal). We now arrive to the snacks and the breakfast which by any standards are better and more edible. As for the hygiene( its an irony to mention it) the plates come mostly wet from a baptisation in the detergent filled sink coupled with an immersion in a plain water sink. Still no casualties though..... So called nutritionists art thou listening???

Next on our itinerary comes the hall canteen, ( The JCB Hall canteen). With all due respect to the fat bellied cook( is he one??), the kitchen is one blackened chamber with save but one of Edison's inventions illuminating it. The one and only blackened frying pan churns out almost 10 out of the 15 items on the menu with amazing speed. Be it burgers( yes thats what he calls that stuff so abominably denied by the dogs) or Omlettes( quite cheap but alas I am a veggie) or Fried rice( quite decent but overpriced stuff, But is a patent in itself with those potato chips adorning it) or Aloo Parathas ( forget that you ever ate them at home if you want to savour these) or Bread Bhujia ( some stuff made up of bread, same old potatoes, oil and other organic things that grow above the earth). The sandwich is the one dish which has been villified to the greatest extent possible with guess what the same old potatoes embedded and toasted on that coal black frying pan. So much for the canteen ( Though I feel sorry to have been so concise).

More is to follow on the restaurant ( as they call themselves) world outside the hostel gate. One might be tempted to think that I am some spoilt brat who's had too much of spoon feeding, which I solemnly declare is utterly untrue. I respect Food in all its forms, but what these guys serve is not what a sane man would call food. And to think this is hungrily wolfed up by some of the most wanted lads in the world who further grow up to be leaders and managers is still loathsome.

So long then, I will be back soon with a description if the campus restaurants which they truly merit.....