The alma mater had turned fifty and she beckoned.
The ride from the airport set the tone for the rest of the
holiday. The old, warm, solid, reliable, gently drawing out memories , some
shared, some hidden and the new, full of
hope, energy and promise. Old friends, the warm envelop of their affection, the
continuity of the connect. Old landmarks, Ghorpudi, Prince of Wales Drive,
Empress garden, Wanowrie – a snatch of conversation remembered, a walk, a
weekend jaunt. The new – friends’ children, young and restless to live their promise, their parents appearing
suddenly in the eyes, the walk, in that tilt of the head. The new buildings in
the college, defined mostly by negatives – not musty, not gray stoned, not
having corridors or arches unlike the ones they replaced, and luckily, not so
many.
The two days went by in a whirl. A quirky quiz that was meant as much for the
funny bone as for the gray cells. Nostalgia on the dance floor, with the beat
group of yesteryears assembled – a mix of temporary duties and major effort
including a guitarist who flew down from the US. Solemn homage at the Martyrs
memorial. Lunch at the spacious cadets, mess, a far cry from Papa Thomas of the
“mustard tadka in baigan bharta” of the girls hostel. I wonder – do they still
do those early dinners, rajma et al, on
movie days? Talent on display at the
variety entertainment program. The debate that allowed the young to be risque, presence of gray hairs in the audience notwithstanding!
The oldies sang and danced with a zing that
was infectious. Friends, batch mates, room mates and hostel mates, some
unrecognizably portly and some inspiringly svelte, gathered for photographs on
the much remembered steps.
And not the least, a long and lingering meal, with the
fraternity and the sorority , in the lawns outside the main block, the lights and
the mood and the music and the camaraderie – a magical warm embrace.
Cant wait for the diamond jubilee.
