Festival of Youth - ME - 3** - Episode I

That's been a year and a half since my last post. The folklore of the Three Idiots plods on.

The registration process was precisely concocted to kick out the slumber. The 30 minutes of frantically scrambling all over the place kicked out the reverie. Somehow I made the 1.00 pm deadline after which Insti Babus would have gone home for their lunch. The fees were paid, the usual stamps registered on my receipt. The spring semester began.

It took the rest of the day to lumber my belongings from the common room of the hall to my cell. In the evening, the chill set in. No geyser in the bathroom was a pleasantly tickling experience, something which was to accompany me for the next four years. The toilet was a mess, the unknown psychotic prowler had been at large for the past three weeks. 

I had visited my faculty adviser in the evening and with an expression of submission collected my grade card for the past semester. I had just managed to keep my GPA below 8.00 by 2 decimal places. Advice and warnings regarding my future followed. Back at the hostel, Puneet gleefully went about strutting with his GPA which was a couple of decimal places above 8.00. Abhinav and Daroo were the most satisfied creatures with comfortable seven pointers. Tukai had lived up to his AIR, a taboo which otherwise befalls many of the front runners. Now that we had our GPAs, we were set to be branded. Puneet was now an "Atthi" (GPA>8). I had to content myself with "Satti" while Daroo and Abhinav took special pleasure in reminding me I was in the same group as them. Babu was quite never able to comprehend how he missed "Nehli" (GPA > 9) when he had put out the quantum of studies which exceeded the sum of the entire wing. Daroo consoled him by explaining him how too much of studies have a "reverse feedback" effect.

The semester kicked off next day with a 7.30am class on Chemistry. Half the class never turned up. It was a pleasant morning with the mercury dropping below 15 degrees on the Celsius scale. It was again a folklore in Kgp that nothing pretty much mattered with the course on Chemistry. You were supposed to earn a C whether you studied or not. Once in a while, the professors used to gift a 'B' just to defeat the monotony of it. And allegedly, to keep the statisticians satisfied, they doled out 'A's. Babu was however undaunted by all this and had pledged to return with a bash. He would be discovering his delusions four months later.

The afternoon initiated with the fabled Electrical Technology Lab where professors threw your lab report in the air to express their opinion and assessment. This adventure which was set for the next four months definitely merits a separate post.

The food in the mess was trash as usual. I sought solace in the dinner tiffin supplied by a Marwari from Gol Bazaar. That kept me on for a month. Puneet and Babu relished the mess food. Tukai mostly confined himself to milk and fruits. Pandit resumed his consumption of Lays at normal pace. This was the time when rickshaw wallahs and vendors were a regular sight coming through the gates. It wasn't the parents coming to meet their wards, but they were Desktops. Almost all rooms (exceptions included me) were populated by desktops. These were essential for "studies" and "project research". The users did study and research using probably the best and most versatile Local Area Network in the World. Yes, in the World. For any movie (you name it, you get it), any song, any goddamn document etc. were located on that network. As I type, the Kgp LAN or DC++ as we knew it, grows banishing away any competition possible.

So far so good. A week had elapsed. Classes were now a routine, Labs were torture. Then in the evening we were all summoned to the foyer. What could be the plausible reason, perhaps a few knew, however the EPABX system was roaring with orders ushering us down.

There, we met THEM.

To be continued ....  

The Homecoming - II

(Am Four months late. Better late than never. Apologies again!) - March 17, 2012.

It happened again. I foresaw it. My clairvoyance in this matter has been spot on. I had been summoned to Kgp last year. By the uncanniest of chances, Kgp summoned me once again. And how was my dire need!

Duur ek gaon hain, wahan thandi chhaon hain, behti nadiyan hain, jaana hain nadiyan ke paar. Kare mera intezaar, mera bichhara yaar, mera bichhara yaar.

- Courtesy : Strings - Album Dhaani

The above lines from the sublime album by the Pakistani band sum up all the emotions of that night. As it is, when it comes to Kgp, I have always let down my guard. The flight landed at Kolkata in the night. It had been a weary day at work and I thought this time, Kgp would be arrived at in the thick of night amidst slumber. Again, Kgp showed how immature I was.

It was a magical journey from Kolkata to Kgp in the taxi. The stop at Sher e Punjab at midnight was just enough to calm me down. As Kgp weaved its magic from far off, all weariness evaporated. This was 'The' time, the lone hour journey from Kolaghat to Kgp, where I reminisced over the past year. There was a chill and a fog that night, at certain areas, the fog was thick enough to render seeing your hand in front of your face, the driver got all of us through unscathed.

We pulled into Kgp, the familiar roads being trod again. So silent they were in the thick of the night, so calm and serene, as if time had also frozen with the cold. It was then we approached Puri gate. I turned my face towards the famous Hijli tower, it was shrouded in the mist. We drove in through those gates and lo I was back.

The last time I had been to Kgp, it was more of a walk down memory lane. I had always pondered how would I approach Kgp the next time, after all rummaging through your memories is not refreshing every time. I had thought this visit to be a purely professional visit, a presentation, hand shakes and come back home.

Kgp swiftly dispelled all my preconceptions. As I walked down from the guest house to the department of Naval Architecture and Ocean Engineering, I felt a sense of amazement. With no particular emotions attached, it was complex to describe.

The venue for the seminars was none other than the senate hall. Another landmark breached, I mused. Soon, I was perched on the seats of power, cushions on which the destiny of IIT Kharagpur had been and indeed still is planned and executed. There I beheld an amazing picture. The unison of generations. Professors of the dept, professors (retired faculty) who had taught the present batch of professors, history could be visualized, as the past, present and future of IIT Kharagpur unfolded itself before me. I passed out from Civil Engineering, but was never so nostalgic as I felt on that day surrounded by members of a sister department. I have grown old I feel.

The afternoon and the evening was solemn, december always meant that there were few people on the campus. Gautam met me in the evening, it was a quiet walk down memory lane again as we sipped coffee in the swank new CCD on the campus. I went down to the department of Civil Engineering in the evening. Again the old pleasant times came back, grades of the autumn end semester exams had been pasted on many of the doors of the faculty; reminded me of the good old days.

Many of the professors were yet not in at that time of the evening, I took the walk down further to the Nescafe near VGSOM to kill the time. A walk alone, clad in formals and a tie. I have always presented myself as a detached, unemotional guy, but that walk probably broke all the
layers built up over the past couple of years. The evening broadened up my spirits, a candid talk with Prof LSR and then I went down to HJB - the place which I deem to be my second home.

The foyer was populated by three security guards who asked me which room I wanted to go. I smiled and walked away down to the place where Dipak Da used to serve us 'Veg fired rice'. The new canteen is a poor substitute for the previous one whom we considered our daily mess.

Gautam took over in the evening, Inter IIT was going to be hosted by Kgp this year and the new Gymkhana building conveyed this amply. It was funny looking at the scoreboard which had been set up. During my times, there used to be seven rows corresponding to the seven IITs. Now there was more than double the number. Jnan Ghosh stadium looked serene in the night with its floodlights. Enough nostalgia, we were famished. Hotel Park was the next stop, the food has deteriorated but we had our fill.

I will always remember the evening next day. Conference things done, I was waiting near TOAT, for Gautam to appear. He was held up by some meeting in the Department of computer science. It was late evening and I had to kill time. I walked down to the canteen near the railway reservation counter. The effect of inflation was evident, prices of the items on the menu had increased. The cups of tea at the canteen in backdrop of the patch of tress ( which used to serve as the SF arena in our times) doused out the exhaustion of the past few months. I was rejuvenated, I was healed.

The journey back home was again scintillating as we sped on NH6 towards Kolkata. I had a full armoury of songs with me this time. These combined with the sight of lush greens on both sides of the highway were the best bit of relaxation one could ever wish for.

As Gautam said (maybe in a sense of pun), 'You don't choose to go to Kgp, Kgp chooses you'. May I be chosen again soon.

I recommend a hearing of "Freebird - Lynryrd Skynryd"

ME -3** - 10 per cent

It was cold, numbing my nerves, sending a shiver down the spines. Yet the cold was not evil. A mist settled over the corn fields on the right. A cottage held against the gale which shook the very foundations of the county oak. I stood strong, staring into the gale and holding my own. Even the gale seemed friendly. A wisp of smoke rose through the meager chimney which stuck out of the cottage roof. Across the lawn on the left, the lush greens waved to the wind as I turned to face the sunset. A cup of tea conjured out of no man's land in my hand accompanied that perfect picturesque view. A short dark skinny man came up from the rear and called "Dada".

I awoke with bloodshot eyes from my deep slumber. Geetanjali express however did not feel a thing as she shot along the thickets of Jharkhand. A voice yelling 'kharab se kharab (worser than worse)' chai (tea) befuddled me. The morning sun was quite above the horizon. It hadn't been a bad dream after all. I had a solid 12 hour sleep on the upper berth which had me geared up for the rigours of the day. It was after all the day of January when I returned back to resume my second innings ala the second semester. I stopped the man and beckoned him to fill me up a cup. The tea wasn't that worse as its maker put it to be. In fact, I readied myself, Kharagpur was 3 hours away and we were approaching the station of Tatanagar.

It was amazing how the past month and half had flown past. The highlight of the past month had been the 10 day NCC camp followed by the royal treatment I received while I recovered from the rigours of the camp. MS hall management had not disappointed by requiring every boarder to empty his belongings in the hall common room before going to the camp. Endsems had been perfect as I had fired enough answers to make sure I did not have to wait in the summers.

It began as preconceived on the 30th of November a day after the endsems. We set off huddled with our bedding and luggage (dead weight of 14 kilos) to the Gymkhana gate. The travel vehicles (trucks) were ready. We set off for the Camp base in Kalaikunda another sleepy town just in the neighbourhood. I will not disclose the location due to security reasons and also the fact that it was a classified area :).

The living facilities were not five star, there were billets, twenty five of us in each. The floor and the decor was very simple and unflattering. Caterpillars and black ants crawled across the walls, the floors and even the roof. The people at NCC were dead serious about making this camp a real experience. Further then, the toilets (aarghh) were less than simple. A total of six toilets for three hundred of us. Needless to mention, bathing facilities were simple too, water arrived at three in the morning and five in the evening. It was our onus to make sure the essentials were completed before it finished. So much for the fact that the prospective future chieftains of India inc were shown that they would not get special treatment.

The camp was the most simple, all you needed to do was to follow the orders and you would be fine. Now the orders were as intelligible as the numerals 1 - 9. You woke up in the morning at 4.30 when the sentry (one of us) would be sent banging a plate with a spoon to serve as an alarm. You would then assemble, and go for a jog and excercise for a couple of hours. You would then come back, have breakfast and then go for the day's drills under the wonderful sun. Afternoon time, there used to be a quick lunch and it would then be followed by 'technical seminars'. The evening would be wrapped up by another couple of hours of excercise. Lights would be switched off by 10.00 pm, so if you had things to do, you would better equip yourself to seeing in the dark.

There were memorable instances during the camp. I particularly (and not fondly) remember answering nature's call at 3.30 am in the morning (I could be sure of water). The toilet did not have a light, so I had to assume things. The latch could not be relied upon so I held the door shut. During the process, I realised I was not alone. This sent shudders down my back, could it be a snake in the dark? Thankfully, it turned out to be a couple of frogs (perhaps answering nature's call too).

The second particular incident was about firing shots from a rifle that had been in use since the pre independence era. I had been looking forward to this and as we were led to the firing range to practice, there was a sense of excitement amongst our group. We waited as the first batch (6 guys) went to have their turn. The first shot was deafening, we hopefully enquired about ear plugs, Captain planets were having nothing of that. Their message was clear, take the gun, take the rounds and fire all at the bulls eye, Simple and easy! There was also a short lecture which instructed us about the conservation of linear momentum principle; simply put, the gun would recoil when the shot was fired, hence no nonsense attitude to make sure you and others came back in one piece. My turn arrived, I took position and fired those rounds. 9 of them went close to the bulls eye. Others had done better, some others had done worse (especially when the commanders found that there were less bullet holes in their targets than the number of rounds supplied and that their neighbours targets had more holes than could be feasible).

When I came out, it took half an hour for me to start hearing things again. It was a chastening experience as I lent my thoughts to our soldiers on the front who were facing the real thing. I saw Pandit afterwards, he had a massive ring around his right eye which was a mixture of dark crimson and blue. Apparently he had not been attentive when the conservation of momentum principle was being discussed.

The food was excellent, the short breaks consisting of tea and five crack jack biscuits were forgettable. As it happened, we were also supposed to peform sentry duty as cadets at night, guarding the mess utensils. My turn arrived and I took guard at 2.00 am in the night. The cold was inexplicably getting too my skin and even the thick army jacket was not enough to keep it out. At 4.00 am we set out for the day's purchase of rations, food for around 300 people. The Kharagpur railway market was the source for those. It is an amazingly big market, The journey to and fro was an experience. I shall remember fondly the scenes of some stunning greenery and sunrise across the realms of Bengal where the mists covered the fields. However enjoying those was not the agenda, six of us had to carry sacks of potatoes, tomatoes and the other vegetables for the day to the truck. This was a heavy duty excercise. We got rewarded for it as well, A dozen bananas! While coming back, I was amazed to count the number of temples and Telugu schools around Kharagpur. If only I had a handycam, a worthwhile documentary could have been easily shot.

After 10 days, there were remarkable changes in me (and others) following these simple instructions. My hands and legs were swollen but strangely I was not able to feel them. My face had changed colour except at the forehead due to the tan imparted to my skin during the daily drills. I must have jogged 15 km a day for each of those 10 days.

Life seemed so changed when we came back to MS hall after the camp, nice snug rooms, clean toilets and no need to wake up in the morning and run like hell. The journey home was heartening as usual. 10 percent of my IIT course had been completed, it seemed like a milestone at that time. Those ten days of camp had established a bonding among us that no other induction party would have been able to. It made me appreciate my life and all that I had.

It was 11.30 am and Geetanjali express approached Kharagpur railway station. I had arrived to start the next 10 percent of my term.

ME - 3**. Post Puja & Diwali

I have absolutely no excuse for delaying this post. (Literally proves why I have been an utter tool and idiot).

I ended off previously at the onset of Puja Vacation. What a lovely time it was, 7 days of home after what seemed such a long time. The train journey from Kgp to Mumbai had been eventful with some European Passengers in the opposite berth. Their saucy romance on the upper berth may find a mention in some other tabloid (This is about us, the three idiots, isn't it eh?). The return journey was quite morose as I tried to savour and recall each of 7 days of home.

Right back from the Puja, I had to start preparing for the Electronics Lab Test the very next day. The signs of the Old Man were uncanny and it was prudent that I atleast paid attention to the boring (depleted and unhelpful) Lab manual. Puneet on his return would have had the Old Man for company from Kgp station had he not slipped off like a squirrel. The Lab test passed off rather uneventfully and I was glad. Diwali was on the horizon and it was something which gladdened up my mood.

Babu had tuned up his fiercesome, incredible capacity to entertain. He was back (with a slightly swollen tummy). The fun started when Babu envisaged playing TT (short for Table Tennis). There were a couple of tables in the hall foyer and these were to be shared by around 400 boarders. Babu set out with a disciplined walk (without his Table Tennis bat) to the table, the sole purpose being to investigate if it was occupied. Do note that it was around a 100m of walk to and fro. Babu found the table unoccupied and came back with jubilance to fetch his TT Bat. He walked down to the table, as fate had it, there was someone playing TT there now. Babu came back again. Daroo was patiently observing this excercise and could not help wondering why Babu walked 200m when the TT room was easily visible from the ME block balcony.

Babu gave up on TT pretty much sooner. He now turned to Badminton for solace. He had an accomplice in the cunning Tukai. Babu it seemed had the conception of Badminton as purely whacking the shuttle cock as hard as you could. Yelling along with the whacking was pure satisfaction to him. Tukai it seemed was equally content with this methodology, only that he thankfully omitted the yelling from his game.

Babu thought he had struck gold at the Barber's shop (To visualize this, you will have to see those wild west movies of Bud Spencer or Clint Eastwood where there was a similar setup). Now the barber had been playing the songs of Mohra (Akshay Kumar, Raveena Tandon & bla bla flick) which had been more than a decade old. The song "Tu cheez badi hain mast mast" bowled over his intellect and in a flash he bought the audio cassette (Thankfully available at that time). The next few days were spent in admiring the melody and the 'grace' of those elder days!

Babu however was obstructed with another event. Diwali was drawing close and it was time for Illu (short for illumination). The event was (and is) the hallmark of Kgp where all the halls battle it out for coming first and thus bagging the bragging rights for the year. It involves stringing thousands of earthern diyas on bamboo mats (called chattais) and illuminating them. Every hall bases this on a central theme. MS too was in it though we were the under dogs being freshies. The theme of MS was "The role of science and technology through Indian history". Thousands of Diyas were required for this and all needed to be strung by metal wire which was the medium of binding them to the chattai. Each of us needed to participate for this by doing atleast 50 a day.

Now being in the fresher year (and still hallucinated by ideas of rocking the world and futile study) not many were eager to do this labor. Hall council and some merry makers resorted to full use of the EPBAX system (intercom in simple terms). There would be announcements regarding the fine that would be imposed through mess dues on a named boarder should he not turn up within a specified time (mostly a minute or two). This system did not last long, as some concerned and alert freshers summoned up the energy to go and query the Dean of Student affairs if this was admissible. EPBAX system was never resorted to after that.

After a week, only a few continued to labour on (we were not amongst that few). Daroo was amongst that few, and it had probably become the goal of his life to see the work finished. Their gallant efforts paid off and with the help of all the boarders in the final couple of days, MS was ready to show off its stuff.

Now the process of exhibiting the chattais is quite formal (I shall put it as succintly and precisely as I recall, additions and corrections are welcome). The chattais are kept ready with the diyas and wicks in their places. The 'Dry test' is conducted (multiple times). This implies burning the wicks and then just dousing them. This makes the tip of the wick easy to light at the time of the competition. Tables (from rooms) are already in place and each boarder is assigned a portion of a chattai (and a candle) to make sure his territory is well lit up. Once the signal is given (typically when it is learnt that the judges are just going to inspect the previous hall), all of the boarders start lighting the Diyas. Some of them have to climb up to heights well above the first storey. The lighting of diyas goes on, there is a monitor who watches the progress and goads the lads on. Updates about the positioning of the judges are given. Once all the chattais are lit, its clearance time. All the tables are quickly pushed away and carried into confinement. This is a very fast process ( I have seen people literally leaping from the tables and others pushing that very table out to be hidden from the sight of the judges). All boarders then take up their places within the dark area where they would be out of sight of the judge.

The procession then arrives with the judges, with them are eminent people like the Director of the insitute, their families and other student reps. All lights of the hall are turned off. Only the diyas remain as a source of illumination. It is impossible not be awed by the bliss of the moment. The procession is welcomed by the committee of the Hall, a group of people who express the theme of the illumination, and show them around. The procession passes, inspects the chattais, the rangolis and the other miscellaneous objects (a very coarse word). Photographs are taken, words of intrigue, wonder and compliments are exchanged and then the procession passes off. The boarders await this moment. No one can stop them now. Watch around 400 dark, greasy, grizzly guys smelling of sweat, who have not bathed for the day. They come out and deliver the characteristic Tempo Shout. They have labored for this very moment. More than a month of preparation and sleepless nights have been the background for this moment. The Tempo shout can be heard half a kilometre away.

The general public is now allowed to enter the hall and marvel at the handiwork of 400 guys. They glance with awe at the creation of art by students who have been the creme de la creme of India. The boarders are to ensure smooth conduit of these people and play the good host. Only after this can they go to their rooms, wash up and then go out to watch the work of their fellow friends in the other halls.

There have been debates (and will go on) whether this is warranted. But Illu is synonymous with Kgp and probably the only college event of its kind in the world (This statement is open for correction). The team spirit and the jubilance developed for those few minutes of explosive joy probably makes the event worth the sleepless nights and the hard work.

Well, it turned out to be an excellent night for MS, photogenic views and also the pot of rasogollas as the prize to savour. We made out to take the round of various halls and watch their creations. Kgp street lights are also turned off and the streets are full with people from and outside the campus, carrying back tales of wonder to their homes.

We went out into the night, virtually the whole ME block. Hotel Dreamland was full and we had to wait for a couple of hours till midnight to snatch the first morsel of food. But the night was cold and worth it. The long walk back to MS was exciting as usual, the stray dogs made it eventful by barking their heads off at us in the cold. It was the first time, I thought I started loving Kgp.

Endsems however began the next week. There were no marks for pulling off a great illu. One day rest and we had to get back to mugging process.

So much for now, Adieu.

ME - 3** - September 2004

Back after a long time. It took time to rummage through the memories and piece incidents together. I am finally ready now.

It used to be five packed days of labs and lecture. You might be forgiven for misconstruing that we had two peaceful days of weekends which we could relish with slumber. We had neither. Saturday mornings were frantic due to an 'extra academic course'. We had to get up, shear off our beards and dress up in filthy clothes to report to the NCC unit on the campus.

Must have been some pervert or masochist who must have suggested this to be a part of curriculum. This activity meant yelling and stamping your legs for three continuous hours. To make things worse, the instructors imagined themselves to be Captain Planet cronies. We had our main commander demanding us to be at the unit to report at 0755 hours (as he put it :)). The part that used to follow was amusing. People of all sorts (tall and short, thin and fat) used to display their parading skills. Yogi bear would have been amused for sure at this. Captain Planets used to observe us as if their life depended on it and any mistake would lead to the prolongation of the ordeal. It was painful indeed as our shoes seemed to be made out of iron and were demanded to be stamped on a rigid concrete pavement.

Amidst of all this was one particular Captain Planet who stood out. We used to call him 'Gaandu Shikari' and he probably knew it as well. He was Captain Planet with a dark side, boys loved him because of his double meaning and 'you know what' jokes. I remember him smacking Babu on the bums for parading as if he was showing off at the Paris Fashion week. (And Babu subsequently squealed as if he had an orgasm.) There was a 10 day camp dedicated to NCC so I will save the incidents for that in a separate post.

Meanwhile, midsems were on the corner so Professors tormented us by taking class tests. I never understood their philosophy, the portion to be studied was almost the same as the midsems. It was as if you were appearing for the midsem mock ups. Daaru however was unaffected by all this. He used to turn up about 15 minutes late for such tests (of 30-45 mins duration). He had friends everywhere and he had an amazing sense of vision which could bend, diffract and even somersault around objects so that he could easily view the solutions from anybody sitting around him. Daaru fared well (by his own standards) in all the exams leaving Babu at pains to figure what was wrong with him.

Meanwhile It was a couple of weeks before midsems on a lazy sunday. A short dark man knocked at my door. He asked me "Do you believe in God?" I replied "Yes!" Poor guy never expected me to agree so easily. He was at loss for words. He then flashed out a book with featuring a gun and with a title " Do you want to die? (or something similar to that)" He realised soon that I was not interested. He knocked on the next door and Puneet came out. Again the same questions. But Puneet was seduced by the look of the gun and probably thought this was some James Hadley Chase novel. He bought it and has not completed reading it uptil date. The person gave up on Puneet soon, he understood this was the only way if he wanted to cling on to God. Tukai on the other hand proved to be a handful and even corrected some of that person's fundae regarding the Gita. Hence Tukai was not disturbed further and declared an outcast.

Next on the line was Pandit. He did not buy the book rather he opened up his room for Satsang. Yes, the short dark man was an ISKCON agent. Soon the next few sundays would go with people gathering up at Pandit's room and looking at projector slides depicting heaven, hell or god. 'Haramkhor' Pandit had nothing to do with devotion and had least to do with God, rather he was playing with those people's emotions as they used to clean his filthy room every time they came. Thus Pandit enjoyed free cleaning of his room and free Kheer every sunday and probably used to sleep off during the Satsang. Anyways they soon picked up his emotional cheating, so they moved to uhmm say more greener pastures. Pandit had never complied with their wishes on getting up early in the morning and taking a bath!

The midsems were finally there. I remember the first paper, English for Communication. Babu procured well written notes from somewhere and was busy stuffing them in his memory. Puneet was doing the same. The paper was straight forward enough, but Puneet showed his decduction skills in that :). It had happened that we had the play Tughlaq by Girish Karnad as our weekly reading. Puneet managed to cook out spicy relationship between every pair of characters in that play (which included some illegitimate relationships and orientations). He painted relationships between the Stepmother and Tughlag, Tughlaq and Barani, Stepmother and Barani etc. He used phrases like 'Father is suspicious of Daughter'. We (Pandit and me) would have willingly paid a fortune to just photocopy that answer paper as relic for our memories.

After that came Mechanics paper, which was the worst paper I wrote since IIT JEE. None of the questions led to answers the magnitude of which seemed to instill confidence. It had put me into a trauma for the weekend. However, most of junta screwed up on that paper providing me some relief. Tukai however had been the star of the show scoring second highest amongst our batch and clearly asserting why he was AIR 45.

The remainder of the exams passed without any mentionable event. Classes started and Babu went back to mugging and Daaru did his best to make him do the opposite. I remember the English paper evaluation, it was the quickest. Puneet and me had to go to Sassy's office to catch a look at our marks. I had modest marks, Puneet meanwhile saw a classmate getting his marks increased by a bit of pleading and diplomacy. Encouraged, Puneet went ahead and thumped his paper on the table with a 'come on increase my marks old man' look. Sassy had a look at the paper for 10 seconds and then brawled "No way".

The next on the line was the Puja vacation - A welcome relief for me to go home and grab some chow. The train journey had been interesting, but Puneet had an even more interesting journey. Would be a welcome contribution from him!

ME - 3** - The Commons

A weary time it was, classes and labs throughout the day. But we did manage time for ourselves in the evenings. Bengal gets its fair share of rains in the monsoons, the sky was largely overcast and poured down though not intermittently.

Tukai had brought with himself a dilapidated audio casette player, which might have sounded pleasant in the times of Marconi. Puneet, in a jiffy procured the latest audio tracks. They happened to be from Fida, the Shahid Kapoor, Fardeen Khan and Kareena Kapoor flick. The torture then started for me. It used to be those doleful songs daily and repetitions of those within a day. To make matters worse, Puneet would also contribute in chorus with the already honked out player. No wonder, my grades in the semester were screwed up :) It also led to Pandit dragging himself to Gol Bazaar and purchasing a Walkman, which in my view was to shield his ailing ears from the din. An attempt doomed to failure.

Meanwhile Babu was in his antics again. I remember that Sunday Evening just before the dinner was to begin. Daroo was casually wandering round the circular corridor trying to net some catch before the dinner. He found Babu. Now Babu had a queer habit of roaming around in a towel without undergarments. No matter of worry for him, but we were under an ever looming threat. Daroo started up the talk of seductive light romance. Soon he had an audience gathered up, names of B-Grade films started propping up. Amidst those names, one in particular held up Babu's attention. The name was 'Reshma ki Jawani'. Babu went hysterical on hearing this, He laughed as if he had been dosed with nitrous oxide. All of us were stumped, there was nothing so funny about this name.

Finally Babu calmed down, before we could ask him the reason for this laughter, he started on again. It later came out that Babu was utterly ignorant about the functioning of the reproductive system. According to Babu, reproduction was a very trivial thing, an simple issue of hugging tightly (The end product according to him resulted as the trigger of an automatic process). Daroo was never so happy and eagerly offered to educate Babu. We were never in doubt about Daroo's expertise on these issues but feared for the version which he used as a medium of education. For instance, he taught Babu to frequently use the word 'masturbate' while playing cricket. This, Daroo explained was a verb derived from the batting style of a Master batsman (Babu perhaps misconstrued the spelling). Babu never spared the opportunity to announce the word in his sentences (astonishing neighbouring wingmates) when he used to bat (which was hugely pathetic). The Guru Chella relationship was blooming between Daroo and Babu.

The other members of the wing were hugely quiet (or maybe uninterested). Hark, there was one member of our wing whom I missed in my previous posts. He was a coal black dog with a sheared over stump for a tail. He was probably half mad and frequently brawled at Pandit, including chasing him as he entered the wing. Pandit resorted to cheap and cruel revenge by pouring water on the unsuspecting dog as he passed by the floor below. The dog apparently was a distinguished guest of the MMST scholars on the floor below us. Hence Pandit understood his limitations soon and made peace with the dog. Which is to say that he tolerated the barking of the dog all the time.

Babu never disappointed with his ways, which diversified and multiplied. The only respite for him was Tukai to whom he kept conversing in Oriya and taking him into his confidence (If only he knew Tukai the Devil well).

Coming next ... ME - 3** - The Chess.

The Class - I

Well, to get rid of the mundane topics as fast as I can. A description of our first classes at Kgp would be ideal. Classes at kgp are like classes anywhere else, boring and sleep provoking (Except certain Structural Engineering lectures). But, the first classes were ahem ahem, something different.

Strictly speaking, our official first class was on Friday, 30th day of July, 2004 in Vikramshila complex in V3. I don't recollect the name of our English teacher (Yeah, it was an English for communications class). But from her looks, expressions and talks she would have easily given the opera singers in Milan and Rome a run for their money. The 50 minute lecture started with the teacher trying to adjust the microphone. A lean spectacled man intervened and got it working finally. Finally she was satisfied and then it was Introductions flying around and a redundant discussion on how English was important for Engineers and moreover how important communication was (as if we didn't know). I was observing our section (read as class). Most of the guys had no interest in the teacher, rather were hungrily measuring the few girls in our class. The remaining confined their attention to staring all over the room. V3 had its own grace as one of the most modern classrooms in Kgp.

The next class on Monday was the actual herald to our Engineering career. It was a Mechanics class. This time the classroom was more filled up and People were expecting the professor any time. I remember, I was seated in the fifth row with the first two rows empty for keeping safe distance. A short man walked down the steps. He was unshaven, bald except for the hair at the side of the scalps. He was clad in a half sleeved shirt and trousers. Both required ironing. The shirt had a blob on the front pocket, presumably from the tip of a pen which must have been fixed without it's lid on. Footwear was even more simple in the form of Bathroom Slippers. Unshaven, He probably must have been straight out of bed.

We all ignored him. Most of us thought he was there to clean the board before the professor made his entry. But.. He settled on to the stage, didn't do any cleaning. Instead, He questioned,"How do you define a Vector? Or rather, what is a Vector ?"I am sure the whole class thought him to be mad for no one seemed interested in supplying in an answer. I was befuddled, did sweepers in IIT speak English and also know Vector quantities. I realised the ridiculousness of my thoughts and shook them off. Since he got no answer, He shouted," Don't any one of you know what's a vector? How did you pass the damn exam?"

Now it was getting serious. It then dawned upon us, this fellow was the professor himself. Phew, some start to the morning. He was or rather is from the Aerospace Department. I don't deem he requires to be named, for Kgp folks would recognize him any day from the above description. Anyhow, someone (A big fat guy from Manufacturing dept., who was to be Puneet's Physics lab partner, has his initials as BR) mustered up some answer. The lecture went ahead with trivial discussions on Scalars, Newton's laws and bla. Barely eventful, compared to what was to come next.

It was our first lecture on Electronics and it was one professor taking class for 4 sections, which means around 300 + students. We were shifted to an even larger class V2. The fun began next.

Prof. TKB descended down the stairs, How do I describe his gait ? You must have seen archives of the Presidents of the US descend from Air Force One and wave to the paparazzi. It was exactly the same here, only that Prof. TKB did not wave at the end. But, the 300+ crowd was in exuberance with a standing ovation for him (And this went on all the way till midsems) and ofcourse Tempo Shouts and hoots. He was overwhelmed at such a reception (Probably did't get the pun of it all). It didn't end here. Next the shutters rolled down to display a white sheet on which he was to project his lecture notes. Exactly, as it happens at the cinema hall when the curtains are rolled back, the audience didnot spare the chance to applaud and make a din.

He too took his time adjusting the collar microphone and giving looks as if he was addressing a White House meeting. Good God, He almost pulled off the same. His way of talking, his gestures, He might have been the President after all. He too clamoured on the importance of Electronics, this was falling on deaf years with people mostly indulging in chats and paper arrows being flung at the girls. At the end, he passed on an attendance register for us to sign our names. This was a futile effort as he realised later, as a mob attacked that register and would soon have decapitated it. He later was to adopt a strategy of random selection which too failed pathetically. One of his favorite dialogues was." you look it up in Sedra, you will find it". So much for him.

Perhaps classes at Kgp were not as boring as I have projected. Puneet later used to sit beside me and keep growling, wailing, yelling at the top of his lungs at Prof. TKB. This was really putting me in a predicament. It was amazing as to how diverse sounds could be produced by us.

The memories are endless and undoubtedly hilarious. But there are other matters of importance. IIT life lies not in the classes but outside them. I end this topic here, and delve into my pensieve prying for topics in my day to day hostel life in the first year.

The Lab - I

Now, Now I arrive on to one of the favorite parts of my IIT Kharagpur (Hereafter abbreviated as kgp) life.

Labs! We had four fucking labs in our first semester (I have omitted the NCC training.) It goes without saying, how enthusiastic I was (and the remaining two gits) about labs. Puneet and me were more or less serious towards academics, Pandit G was a renegade who probably would have abolished labs (or atleast the tradition of writing lab reports).

So it turned out that the first afternoon of my first academic day at kgp turned out to be an electronics lab. In the morning, Prof TKB had lectured on the prospects of Electronics (Geeky stuff mostly, I distinctly remember him speaking about some medical injections for diabetics to be controlled by sensors planted in the Human body, Yawn). Stuffed up with the trash served in the mess, I was already skeptical about my chances of remaining awake in the lab. But, it was the first day, first lab. So what if this was IIT, humans study here after all and are taught by humans. Who would start a lab on the very first day, with the students knowing next to nothing about Electronics. I expected to be back in my room within half an hour. I was miserably mistaken.

A bald man with a crown of scanty hair diminishing with his age, was our professor for the lab. The serenity on his face camouflaged all his other 'angry' features. He was accompanied by his two cronies with spectacles who stood as sentinels on the either side of the lab door. He began writing on the board with gusto. Phew, I thought, So it would be another bout of lectures. He completed his writing and turned to us. He gave us 5 minutes to form groups of three people. I hadn't met Puneet yet, so he had formed his group with two bongs. I had my fortunes connected with those of two biharis. Anyways, I was convinced that this group forming ritual being completed, we would be set free to go to our room and snore.

Mr. Prof. had other ideas. He pointed out to the first two experiments on the board and yelled, "you have to finish them today and you have got less than two hours left." I seriously thought he was joking, much to my chagrin, he wasn't. He yelled at two girls (the rare few and the endangered species), something about how we had to stop being spoonfed. Old Man was serious and meant business definitely. We were to be graded on today's performace apparently.

I looked to my left, Daroo was in the next group. Next to him was Puneet, trying to put his point across to the two bongs (who sadly were missing it). Daroo was obviously undaunted and pulled out a sheet of foam (how did it get there ?) under the table. He sat on it relaxed as the pied piper of Hamelin. I focussed on the task at hand, the first was about a multimeter and the second was about ahhh, yes Thevenin's theorem. Agonizingly simple topics, if someone knew them beforehand.

We had never touched a multimeter in our life, but it appeared simpler than Thevenin's theorem (some jerk had named a simple obvious law after himself as it appeared). I glanced at our table, We had a circuit board, an oscilloscope and lots of wires. So for the next half an hour we kept crossing them here and there on that damned board. No answer so far, the Prof. was now coming down our way. I nudged Daroo and he immediately made the foam vanish and stood up trying to knock a nerdy aura to his style of imitating the same combination of wires on my board.

Old Man, understood we were fooling around and did not make an attempt to hide it either. We were given a dressing down which cost us another fifteen minutes which left half an hour on the clock for us to complete both tasks.

Now, Daroo had this habit called 'jugaad' and whatever he knew or didn't know, he knew how to 'jugaad'. Soon we had the multimeter bit wrapped up and were showing off our recently acquired multimeter skills to the girls opposited our table. From where Daroo got his 'jugaad' remains a mystery to this day. Old Man realised we had enough and mercifully banished Thevenin to the next class. But.... He ordered us to come with a lab report with our 'independent findings'. Now that was another caveat to make sport. Some guy dared to ask him how to write a report and was answered," Write your autobiography, but write something and come".

Old Man with his cronies barged off. I on the other hand leaned against the table and sighed. Was this going to be our Monday afternoon for the next 12 weeks? Thanks to Daroo who was always an example to behold and think, this guy will always give company! Puneet was still busy over wires and his two bong pals (who always waited for him to finish and leave so that they could work in peace :))

The very first lab at kgp, and this is all real! Five years down, we endorse the Old Man, who made us learn the hard way.

More to follow.

ME - 3**

Apologies for my lethargy. May the story roll on.

Since that fateful day, it had been a topsy - turvy life. Classes had started full throttle and suddenly life was full of tasks and classes. It was full of forms as well, as we filled out form after form for our Identity cards, library identity cards, hall identity cards and well .... whatever.

I don't recall much of the classes in my first year. I never found them stimulating or thought provoking except for the Mathematics tutorials which always had a nice unique flair to them. The fact that those were arranged in the G.S Sanyal School of communications helped as the classes were quite modern and had a nice view out of the window where one could stare on for ages. Vikramshila complex was awe provoking with its air conditioned auditoriums equipped for seating quite a lot of people. Life was trudging on, we had about 5 odd subjects to study (discounting English for communications and NCC).

It was almost a week since Papa had left, I had managed to drag myself on, constantly goading and motivating myself and keeping myself occupied all the time. But somehow life was too boring and the grey skies did all their bit to keep my mind dark. I was yet to gel with my neighbours in the hostel. Abhinav kept mostly to himself. I knew a person from Bombay, I had met on the train. He was the only other company. It was then God smiled and introduced me to some of my very good friends.

I had come back from the mess after having an evening snack. It had been a terribly long day with lectures from 7.30 in the morning till about a couple of hours after lunch. I dropped on to the cot, lousy and sullen. And then I heard someone singing (used for the technical sense of the term. No sane person would label that as singing, but ). However pathetic that song or wail was, the singer sure seemed to be happy. He was screaming/braying at the top of his lungs. "Now who is this", I pondered. The voice seemed to be coming from just outside the space people call as a balcony(it was shamelessly small to be called one). I opened the door and was just able to fit myself in it. I glanced around, it did'nt take long to discover the source of the brays.

He wore spectacles. He had a round chubby face with a fair complexion. He saw me and stopped singing (or screaming). I wondered how could he be so happy in this godforsaken place. Time to start the introduction I thought. "Hi, I am Karan", I started. He followed and the conversation flowed after which we knew our respective departments, courses and our sections (which turned out to be the same). "Good", I mused. There is someone who will help me with the tutorials and the exams. We came out of our respective balconies to the much better relative comfort of the corridor. May I take the pleasure to announce the Third Idiot of the group. Puneet Jain (aka PJ, Puneet 'G', SAAND, Sylvester and ...... a certain unceremonious word) a native from MP(We used to pull his legs a lot over this). With him, our trinity is completely defined. We were all in consecutive rooms. I was in ME-305, followed by Puneet ME-306 who was in turn followed by Abhinav.

Now it is not that we three were recluses. There were other animate beings in ME too. The first who comes to attention is 'Tukai' aka Bandar. I would dearly award him the epithet of being the fourth idiot (unfortunately I can't). He was AIR-45, which made us look at him with awe (though it soon evaporated). He was queer, I shall say. He was (?) an ardent devotee of Sri Asaram Bapu, with all the devotion wares present in his dirty and filthy room. He was a vegetarian (uncommon for a Bengali, I thought). He was and is a very good friend and so will feature regularly in our exploits.

Next to his room was the toilet(aha, this hath it's own tales). Next to the toilet lived a 6 feet giant called 'Kaal'. He was a quiet guy and kept a bucket of water in his room all the time. I confess I had few conversations with him so this is all I can churn up.

Next to him lived 'Babu'. Now this is some character who genuinely stumped me when I met him first. I remember the Saturday evening, when he first knocked on my door and gestured to a problem in Shantinarayan's text on calculus. He told me he'd tried a lot but wasn't able to get through. I nodded and told him I would surely tell him if I solved it. 2 minutes later, I was in his room explaining him the solution. Now, I don't attribute it to my brilliance, I attribute it to the fact that he was a moron. But he was a good guy at heart and frequently the object of our torment. He loved flaunting his buffalo like body curves moving around clad in a towel. But we reformed him later.

Next to him lived Sakya, a Bengali from Kolkata. He used to remain holed up in his room or his friends'. He spoke hindi with difficulty with a heavy Bong accent. I used to enjoy seeing him and Puneet converse.

Next were we three. After that lived 'PC' the person with the first personal computer of the wing. He was a happy go lucky dude, who too remained holed up in his room and killed Abhinav due to passive smoking. He had the maximum amount of visitors to his room. Quite popular I thought, with his obsession for strumming the guitar and playing 'Summer of 69' at the slightest opportunity he got.

'Unknown Citizen' lived in the next room. He is named after a russian poetry in the textbook of our english course. Much about him still remains unknown, even after all these years. But so was he.

'Gabbar' lived next. He was followed by another personality known as 'Daaru'. He was the mischief monger of the wing. He'd decided he would have another crack at JEE. His room was also known as the entertainment room. The guy never disappointed when it came to that. It was the best to watch at the time of exam, when all of us splattered our ass on the course notes and he used to peacefully watch a film or come and give us Gyan. He was the one who rechristened Abhinav as 'Pandit G'. Overall a good hunk but lousy when it came to taking bath. More will follow on him.

'KKR' was the last. He mostly kept to himself. Below us resided Doctors (real ones) who were pursuing MMST. They were mostly reticent and made sport of a Black Dog, with a stump for a tail, who used to frequent ME. ME was directly above the mess, so for a year, I was plagued with the stench and the din associated with it.

Introductions over. I spent my first year in this wing and fondly think of it. A lot of memories are associated with it and I hope to pour them out. At last, I was sprouting roots. Kgp didn't appear too terrible now. Puneet, Daaru, KKR and me shared the same section which helped(mostly Daaru, as he copied our laboratory readings with leisure).

I am now relieved. Tales of tomfoolery and moronics to follow. I only wish I could relive that time again.

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.

The Shock

July 7th, 2004. 10.05 am.

Ashutosh Kale called me and announced, "You have been allotted the Dual Degree course in Civil Engineering". Nothing unusual in that, I thought. After all I had consciously filled in my preferences and Civil Engineering stood quite ahead in the list, preceded only by Aerospace. Structural Engineering quite appealed to me, though I was not the best in mechanics but I was always fascinated with tall gigantic structures.

And then Ashutosh added "It's at Kharagpur". Time froze at that moment. Perhaps my heat skipped a beat or three. I grew numb. Something similar to an explosion. It's just like those moments when sometimes you cease feeling life. Did I feel dead ? worse than dead I suppose. It's exactly like one of those times you would gladly like to retake. Neither could Ashutosh have anticipated the tenacity of the blow he had unknowingly inflicted. I hung up the phone soon.

People would have rightly thought me mad. Two years I had prepared for JEE, I got through thanks to my heroics in the Mathematics paper(The paper which maximum junta screwed up). Now when the prize was on offer, I was unhappy. I was amongst the lucky mavericks who got through in the first attempt. Papa saw me and understood my mind in a glance. He cooly offered me a deal, " Son, you can either do it all over again and try keeping yourself in Mumbai. OR Let me book the tickets now, We've got to leave in less than three weeks."I nodded. He had been brave to make me an offer to quit. But I accepted my destiny, it was more of a rhetoric affirmation. But I respect him especially for that day.

The tickets arrived that night, Papa and I were to leave on the 25th for Kharagpur. Papa was happy and content(or so he pretended to be). I being a pathetic actor put on the veil of the forlorn patient who sees death coming, for me 25th of July, 2004 was going to be death.

And I died on that day.

Prologue

It's time I did this, In July, 2004, Three Idiots entered the hallowed portals of IIT Kharagpur. Two of them were forlorn. One was excited about this new journey. Five years changed them. Their lives were never the same again. It's now time I (one of those idiots) write about the time. Herein I inaugrate the travails and accounts of that dream journey of life.

More to follow :)