Watching Eucalyptus adorning Rishikesh hills passing by the train window, with Gilmour and company humming the chords reminds me of the boulevard of mango trees cutting across spawning BHU campus, of unending nights invested in listening to psychedelic, of treats given by seniors( though sometimes reluctant and compelled). As nostalgia starts haunting me, its cobwebs strangling me, I often get into the deep thinking what a scholar say of life after college. Past one year, since passing out of BHU, has brought many changes in life.Now, I don’t need to think twice before buying a pair of jeans or can of beer, but somehow I realize I don’t cherish them as much as I used to during the frugal academic years. Hundred Rupees spent on dinner seemed more but fruitful than spending 2K at discosques. Corporate life has brought its own disciplines with it and life has been restricted what we call a Time Table. As Gilmour sings A great day for freedom, I realize no other song can be more apt in depicting my unrequited need (which seems a wish now), of releasing me of the corporate strings tying me and dragging me down at this moment.
Waking up on rainy days, weathering heavy storms, as I reach my office I can’t stop my self thinking of IT days of clinging on to my dilapidated bed in my web covered sweet room. As I face my boss looking like a devil in a prada shooting a flurry of questions inquiring my by-default habit of coming late to office, then seemingly monstrous professors with fleet of their viva questions seems kind and amiable. Sitting in front of TFT screen with lines of infinitely long incomprehensible codes blazing in front of my eyes makes me think of sweet mushy movies I used to watch on my Master-driven system. Jovial, belittling and loud conversations have now been replaced by dry and humorless and often sarcastic whispers. Sense of camaraderie (shown especially during end semester) has somehow lost in ugly and dark competitive corporate world. Gone are days where a talk started from a cup of tea and ended on America, now we talk only about our Leads and onsite.
Orkut and Gtalk have become only mean of clinging on to your past. As I suddenly realize my friends with whom I used to hang out 24 hours a day have suddenly become my past and I haven’t met most of them for a year and may not be able to meet ever, tears drip down my moist eyes.
Watching kids playing cricket from train window reminds me of gymkhana grounds, of Adel in our very own Rajputana grounds and Spardha, which can beat the charisma and enthusiasm of an Olympics any day any time (Chinese can learn a bit of sportsmanship from us). Sitting in front of client trying to answer his intangible queries takes me to LC hangouts during eve of a periodical and then begging GMAT’s for class notes at night.
Lonesome dinners at home (mostly Maggi) reminds of the mouth watering Dhaba delicacies (especially awesome chilly chicken) followed by liters of beer.
My longing for college life didn’t seem to end, rather keeps on intensifying with time. With twilight fading away, sun setting down for a new rising and Waters finally playing Wish You were here I wish my BHU would return just for once with all my friends and even foe which would take me back to heaven named IT-BHU. But Truth and reality of so called Professional life make me realize the sweetness of those “old” past.
