The Last Question

It is July 2003 and the hot, dry North Indian summer is resplendent in all its glory. A drop of sweat makes its slow, meandering way down my forehead. The sharp and bright light of the mid-noon sun lends a surreal quality to the landscape, accompanied by an almost unnatural silence that one only witnesses during summer afternoons. It is my first day in college and after the mind-boggling dose of advanced mathematics and physics I am trying to sleep away my apprehensions. Lying in the bed and staring at the elderly fan fighting a losing battle does not seem to help me ignore the sweltering heat which is driving away my sleep. On the opposite side of the room, Himanshu is tossing and turning in his bed, also unable to fall asleep, seemingly searching for a magical posture which will render the heat ineffective. The eerie silence is broken only by the fan's groans as it reluctantly continues on its unending journey, occasionally interspersed with sounds of hammering and drilling, signaling that construction work is going on somewhere just outside the hostel. Himanshu turns towards me, notices that I am awake and vents his frustration by exclaiming "B*******d, kitni garmi hai!". I snap out of my reverie and ask him something that I was idly wondering about during the lecture.

"How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"

Himanshu looks at me for a second like he fears for my sanity, then just shrugs and says, "Abhi bahut time hai be", before turning away to resume his futile quest for sleep.

It is a cold morning in January 2005 and a bone-chilling wind is blowing across the deserted corridor. Aayush and me are crossing a particularly cold section of the corridor, surrounded by open space and where broad leaves of the huge mango trees keep away the feeble sunlight. Both of us shiver at the perceptible drop in temperature and start walking faster to reach the relative warmth of our rooms before we succumb to frostbite. Barely able to control his shivering, Aayush swears loudly at nobody in particular.

As we turn the corner and come within striking distance of the room we make a run for it...bursting unceremoniously into the room which feels gloriously warm after our cold forage outside for breakfast. Aayush immediately jumps into the bed and entombs himself in the multitude of quilts lying on the bed. KP is not there in the room, perhaps gone out for one of his torturous trekking prep camps, so I feel free to wrap the quilts lying on his bed around me. While Aayush tries to maneuver the mouse and keyboard without having to force his hands out of the safety of the quilt, I think about how relaxed life is. It reminds me of the thought I had a long time back and I ask him, "How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"

He pauses for a moment as if to think about it, then says, "Jab hoga tab pata chal jayega, abhi to 2 saal hain." I nod in agreement, though I am not quite sure that he is looking in my direction because his head is tucked deep inside the bowels of the quilt. He starts watching Snatch which I have already seen thrice so I decide to leave.

It is an overcast afternoon in August 2006, and Mehra and me are returning from a unbelievably boring lab session. After staring at the confusing gauges in the stifling heat of the Mechanical lab for over 2 hours, the refreshing breeze blowing across the large, open space next to the library feels amazingly good. Wanting to enjoy the view afforded by the dim sunlight resulting from the heavily overcast sky, we walk slower than usual. Of course with Mehra it is usually hard to differentiate between walking and running, so even "walking slowly" for him is essentially walking like somebody close to winning a marathon...someone who is tired but the sight of the finish line is driving him to go for one last burst of speed. We pass a couple of peacocks pecking hopefully at the ground. The peacocks in our campus must be special because somehow they rarely seemed interested in dancing in the rainy season. A dazzling flash followed by a rather loud report of thunder gets us walking a little faster; neither of us is keen to get soaked again after the morning dash to LHC while braving a heavy downpour. By the time we reach LHC it has started raining again. We decide to wait out the rain this time, after all we can sleep to our hearts content once we get back to our rooms (oh how I miss my college!). While standing under the dreaded L6 Mehra expends his frustration by chastising the lab assistant in his usual fashion, using words that most guys stop using after 4th standard.

"Wo saala TA! Meri readings 3-3 baar check kar raha tha, kutta kamina kahin ka!"

I laugh, both at his language and the gesticulations that accompany it. After a bout of silence I decide to ask him.

"How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"

"Le, bahut khushi hogi, aur kya", he replies and follows it up with a description of what his celebrations on that day would consist of.

I suppose it is better than a nonchalant reply, although I am pretty sure it will not be a happy day for me or for a majority of batch-mates. However, Mehra's indifference bordering on dislike for the campus life is well-known to all of us and so the answer does not surprise me. I mumble something to show that I am listening while I think how would the prospect of leaving behind a relaxed, enjoyable life with close friends surrounding you 24 hrs a day sounds. The day we leave will unquestionably be a sad day for most of us...but I was curious to know how would it feel, how would I look at things that I have grown used to seeing every day and probably will not see again for a very, very long time (if at all); how would I feel when I wave goodbye to people with whom I have spent four of the best years of my life!

It is a warm, sunny morning in June 2007 and the sky is a beautiful light blue. It is too early in the day for the full brunt of the summer heat to be unleashed, but it is already sweltering hot. The hostel is quiet, with a majority of parents having left with the students after the convo. After a couple of days of hectic activity...meeting and greeting parents of friends, packing, attending the rehearsal and actual convo...I feel drained as I carry my sole remaining piece of luggage to the hostel gate. Himanshu is walking beside me and is uncharacteristically quiet. We both look around, hoping to see someone to whom we did not say goodbye yet, but there is nobody to be seen. The hostel wears an abandoned look, with the long corridors almost silent, the only sound being that of the currents of warm air swooshing through them.

The wide, clean road (so unlike roads in Kanpur city) is almost devoid of any traffic. Sunlight, filtering through the leaves of the numerous, overhanging branches, makes a continuous, criss-crossing pattern on the road. Sitting in the rickshaw, I take in all the familiar sights as we move leisurely past them...the academic area, SAC, Shop-C, Park 67. I know now how it feels, the final parting, and I can guess from his mild expression that Himanshu is experiencing a similar feeling. The last question remains unasked, but I finally have the answer...

A bloody mess indeed!

Everybody who has ever lived in a hostel knows that the most painful part of hostel life is the mess food. Since I had barely survived the chow doled out in the hostel mess at IITK (with severe psychological and physiological scarring to show for it!), I was really apprehensive about the 'delicacies' that I would be subjected to in the mess at IIMK. Add to it the fact that this college was nearly 2,400 kilometers from my native city and, consequently, located in a totally different gastronomical belt...to say that I was dreading my first meal in the mess would be an understatement. Here's how it unraveled...

Day I
Typical North Indian fare!!! I was pleasantly surprised...even appreciated the meal, reasonably palatable. And a nice dessert to cap the meal too, maybe life here won't be so bad after all!

Day II
Hmmm...what is this weird dish on the menu today? Lemme try it...
Aaaarggghhhhhh!!!

Day III
OMFG...do they have leftovers from yesterday??? They must have some left, they MUST!

Day IV
Why didn't I die before trying this!?
.
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Day VIII
How the hell did I LIKE this on Day I! F**k...
.
.
Present day
F**k...

P.S: Let us take a moment to thank the greatest establishment in (almost) every campus, the eternal savior of the famished, the disgusted and the late night vigilantes...the CANTEEN!

The Anomaly

Adi almost fell off his chair. Rohi had to stifle a cry of amazement. Himan hardly moved a muscle, yet his eyes betrayed the emotions of shock and pure incredulity rising within him, forcing his brain into a state of wakefulness. Guls, on the other hand, stared at "The Source" with his eyes wide open, mouth agape. Others seemed too far away from consciousness to note "The Anomaly"...however, the intensity of it all was too strong to be ignored. All around me, people were stirring, disoriented and numb, as they returned from their foray into the Land of Nod. A slight rustle filled the room, one that accompanies a large number of bodies either stretching or striving for more comfortable resting positions."The Source", meanwhile, continued with the propagation of "The Anomaly", apparently unaware of the sea change occurring around him. It was good that he remained ignorant of his surroundings...because had he glanced at the multitude of half-open eyes staring at him in amazement, he might have stopped dead in his tracks.
Eventually, someone articulated the thought crossing everybody's mind, albeit in the form of a whisper..."What the f**k, he asked a question in a MIS lecture!!!"

I'm going to K!

I had a feeling that the day was going to be good. Woke up nice and fresh (nearly 9 hours of sleep...bliss!), went through the daily rituals of getting ready for office, reached office in a good mood! Logged on to IIMC's website to check the result. After a wait of 10 seconds or so..."Your name does not appear in the list of selected candidates or the waitlisted candidates."
Heartbeat quickens, but still sure that I made a mistake in entering the details, I go back to the previous page and enter them again, more deliberately this time. Again the same dreaded message!
The world slows down around me...heartbeat rises further, mind goes numb..."Jeez! What now?"
I check the result at least 8 times that day, hoping against hope that there had been a mistake, I must have done something wrong earlier.
Eventually look at other results, no go in IIMA (as if I didn't know), waitlisted in IIMI, got through IIMK! Something to ponder about...
I went at 11 PM, feeling confused and a little insecure. Probably one of the most important decisions of my life (right up there with "whether to buy a PSP!") lay ahead...join this year or wait for next year.
Over the next several days, asked loads of people about joining that year or not...got mostly positive opinions, along with the profound but practically useless statement - "Ultimately it is your own decision that matters!". Tried to sit alone at home and think; tried visiting the mall and sitting among the milling (or mall-ing, whatever) crowd..waiting for the mythical bolt of enlightenment to strike me. No success...
How did I finally decide? Hard to say how the decision was made, may be the fact that I did not want to go through the horrible GD/PI phase again was drilled in my subconscious...but what happened was perhaps akin to the Kekule and Ouroboros incident! Still undecided, I went to sleep one night and woke up the next day with a crystal clear thought, "I'm going to K!".