Just another dream, Sharma jee aur unki ek aur Sabha, Neta and me. We are listening to some weird stuff and ideas from Sharma Jee-the great director, thinker and the ultimate doer. We are discussing something very intently like most of our after-tea evening talks sitting in front of Sharma’s computer. The computer which has produced such geniuses in terms of Sharma production videos, taken on the might of Rohit Vats in the intense battles of AOE and sometimes a dear friend for Sharma in his private moment. Just another lazy evening in a city in northern India…
Suddenly I woke up, its 10:15 am. Oh shit! I have a class and I can’t afford to miss it otherwise a grade cut awaits me in SBM. Its funny when I reflect how I have managed to reach in an IIM. In engineering if it was Kapil, now its Axat who has taken the responsibility of waking me up!
Just to give some statistics, I have missed some three odd classes; all of them had class timings different than that of Axat. To add to that, I missed another whole day of lectures to just watch Sehwag bat. So I can’t afford to miss this class. Defying all the kinematics I brushed my hair, wore the jeans and Tee and rushed towards the class. It is on times like this when I really utilize my height and long strides. Only five minutes late for the 10:15 class, not bad I would say.
Today, the date is December 09, 2009. After ten minutes of listening to the lecture (or basically pretending to do so), I relax a bit, the cool AC air above me helping a lot in the cause. Today seems like a different day; I want to remain awake in the class. I am not feeling like playing cards as well and my laptop is also not with me. So inadvertently my thoughts wander towards the dream I was having before rushing to the class. A series of thoughts rush in my mind... The Raman hostel inner circle, Limbdi corner, bills running to more than Rs. 100 in a Rs. 2-chai-stall, Raj-corner’s chole-kachauri. Amid all these my thoughts rush towards the most important part of them all- my batch-mates and college friends.
Today, the date is December 09, 2009. Some 30 months past my college days. But in this jet-age a lot has changed in this 30 odd months. People have left jobs, people have changes jobs, some went to Belgium, and some just returned from a foreign assignment in the States, others have decided to settle in the States. Some have joined another college for higher learning; some have just completed their two-year courses and landed themselves in classy jobs. Neta is having a party at Murti’s place. And Sharma, well Sharma, and the enigma he is; he is living the dream with a nice pay-cheque every month.
In all these tumultuous and chaotic period with so many transformations nothing remains same. Once upon a time all the night-outs were not sufficient to spend time with one another. When the unit of time was measured not in minutes or hours but the number of beer bottle still left to finish. The pace of life was as smooth and obstacle-free as the free-flowing Ganga at Shivala Ghat. Now the online community posts have dried and catching up means an occasional ‘Hi’ on messenger. So much has changed when one never thought in all those four years that life would ever evolve in any other form.
Today, the date is September 21, 2009. I have just de-boarded the flight coming from New Delhi and hired a taxi to my hostel. The phone rings. I was actually expecting a call from Jhansi (not place Jhansi but my friend Jhansi, yes that is his name). So finally I am going to meet the Civilians, some of them for the first time after college life. Just to make sure I won’t miss the meet I scheduled and rescheduled and then again scheduled my travel plan to be in Indore on the morning of Sep 21. This was the kind of start I was looking for my second-term, and what a start it is. The occasion: Jhansi’s engagement and as usual we have a blast.
In retrospect I think what if Baba and Munnu were not there in the wedding. As in all these I must admit one thing, Baba has not lost any of his charm and antics. It’s a pity that I was not able to attend his wedding. So he kept us quite engaged with his trademark statements and his self-proclaimed dada-giri to say.
I never thought it would be this way. Probably I was being a bit irrational when I thought it would continue in the same manner. I thought that all would always remain the same, wherever they might be, the situation will remain same. I could not have been much wrong. Probably I had taken those four years too seriously. A phase comes when things drift apart.
Today, it is some random Saturday evening: In a flat in Salt Lake, Kolkata, and the year is 2007 or 2008, I don’t remember exactly. Fourteen IT-BHU guys in one single room, surprisingly none of them drunk, because it’s the Adarsh meet. The image flashes like a recently taken photograph.
Another Saturday night, the landlord calls me:
“Tarun, please ask your friend to not make so much so much noise.”
I am too intoxicated to make any meaning of what he is saying but still I am in his good books, and I have to maintain that. So I come back to explain my predicament to Mangal. In the meantime Bhaiya is puffing away his Chilam filled with Bhole Baba’s Prasad.
If you got to do something, do it right. That seems to be the motto for Bhaiya.
He has been on a diet of Ganja since the time anyone remembers so he can put to shame all of us taken together with just his single puff. Mangal, Barood and Gaur are again involved in some seemingly serious discussion, about the person who lives inside our brain. He, who manages the plates! Plates, which separate one thought from another, good from bad, evil from angel.
Talk about globe-championship, give me a chilam filled with Ganja and I can give you the OB toppers.
Meanwhile Bihari has just puked for the nineteenth time, without realizing it and he is content in his own world. Kholu, unaware of all this is wandering around, talking over his cell-phone, the mannerism truly indicating a girl on the other end.
Another random evening, all of us have returned from the office frustrated and happy to see each other’s faces. So the beer bottles open and the suit of cards are arranged. It is one of those days I am going to remember for my entire life. This is going to be the day when I will enforce a score of 2 on my opponents at the game of 29 in cards. A historic day for me, a great victory for me, so Mangal and I rejoice, not so much in our victory, but at the audacious idiocy of our opponent.
Today, the date is December 09, 2009. I am sitting in the class, not dozing off surprisingly, because I have been thinking. So, really, was there any purpose at all, of the entire dream. Why is it that life moves on? Why is it that changes are so hard to accept?
I am yet to find the answers.
For the uninitiated: Sharma, Neta, Jhansi, Baba, Munnu, Murti, Barood, Mangal, Gaur etc are the actual names of some of my friends. I don’t know what had these people done to their parents to deserve such fate…
