February 25, 2007
During this mid-semester break that starts today, I plan to go to a part of Himachal that stil remains less explored. This week I would be without a internet connection, a mobile (that I don’t have), TV and all other means to connectivity. This week I plan to look at “no screens”! The only things that I plan to carry for this break are some books, a diary and a camera to capture briliant hues of nature.
I am looking forward to experience life in a remote part of Himachal!
An eighteen years old boy, coming all the way from a remote place in Tamilnadu, stands at the Chandigarh Bus stand waiting for a bus that will take him to Hamirpur, his destination. What is the problem? A common scene at any bus stand where passengers wait for buses, you might say. The problem was that he didn’t know Hindi, it was his first visit to any part of
North India, the next available bus would bring him to Hamirpur at 2-30 AM, and he was carrying a big amount of money as well. Now don’t tell me that an 18 years old boy should be capable of handling all such problems.
This was how one of the students of my class, many years back, related about his first experience about the people of Himachal. It was an answer to an assignment that I had given to the class. He wrote, “I felt lost.”and “All the courage that I seemed to have, vanished in thin air” and reflecting upon how and where he would spend the night at Hamirpur made him look like a venerable young boy instead of a confident young man that he was hitherto had been posing as.
“The worst was the language problem” admitted he very honestly. “I could speak neither Hindi nor, for that matter English, properly”. He stood bewildered at the Chandigarh Bus stand unable to decide whether to board the bus or not. Then he decided to buy the ticket and start his journey for the destination, Hamirpur. “Throughout the journey, I kept on thinking about where would I spend the night?” Those were the days when mobiles were not at all heard of. He could not contact any other boy from Tami Nadu till he reached the college!
The bus reached Hamirpur at 2:30 AM and everyone got down, He, too, got down but thad no clue, whatsoever, that where could he stay for the night. NIT campus was at a distance of 3-4 Kms. from the Bus stand and the road was lonely and dark and moreover he didn’t know the way to the campus. “You can come and stay with our family” a voice from behind made him look back and he found a woman, his co-passenger in the bus, standing behind him. This woman had traveled from Chandigarh to Hamirpur and had heard the young boy ask about the whereabouts of NIT campus. “Come with me and tomorrow morning I would send someone to escort you to the campus” said she.
“I was in dilemma” acknowledged the boy later n in my class. “I was taught all the while not to trust any stranger” He confessed. But here he had to take a decision between staying in a hotel or this woman’s home and the fact that he carried a big amount with him made him all the more worried. “I decided to go with the woman”. He could not sleep for the rest of the night as he still could not trust the people and waited for the morning. In the morning he was asked to have a bath and a hearty breakfast was served to him by the affable family. The father of the lady escorted the boy to the campus and saw to it that the state seniors of this boy could be contacted and left the campus only when the boy was in th safe hands of his state seniors.
Relating the incident this boy from South India felt genuine gratitude for the people of Himachal as he learnt to have faith in the basic goodness of human nature. Whole of the class sat silently when this boy gave an account of his experience, though in smattering of English, and applauded. It was the genuine gratefulness in his account that held us all in awe. “This is my tribute to the people of Himachal” he finished this acount with a choked voice.
February 21, 2007
Cannot even curse you
To suffer till infinity
Like Ashwathama
You would fill the universe
With painful existence
As more you live
Not joys and happiness
But pains would you give
To all who love you,
As you are born to suffer
And cause sufferings
To those around you.
Drona would have not
Suffered humiliation;
The jeering laughter
Of his friend Drupad,
Had it not been for
His love for the hungry son
Craving for milk
That poor he could not
Get for him.
Became a Rajguru
To earn and fill
His son’s life with
All the pleasures
Wealth and money
And the royal friends
For a company!
A Rajguru remained mum
A Dharma knowing
Bestowing teacher
Watched a young woman
Disrobed and humiliated
All because of his son
Whose future rosy and glowing
Was all that he craved!
Sided with the Kauravas
Though knew it well
In his heart
But could not tell
The dharma was with
The Pandavas!
But his son
His Ashwathama
A precious part
Of his being.
Did he achieve
All that glory and fame
That his poor father
Had worked hard to gain?
Had Drona known
The future of his son
Roaming the limitless universe
Injured forehead
Stinking and bleeding
Living till eternity
To suffer his ignominy
Would Drona sided
With the unjust?
Or had taken the side
Of those who wanted
Him to speak at least
As was he not a witness
To all that transpired.
The mute and mum
Teacher who taught
Morality and values
To all who came to learn
And when it came to practice
Chose to remain quiet and mum!
His true feelings
The unanswered dictum
The unspoken words
The unopened letters
Remain hidden
Under the dust of time
Making many more
Dronas and Ashwathamas
How can I
The one who can see
And realize the pain of
Ashwathama
Can curse you to
Live till infinity
And to suffer ignominy
As I still carry
The fragrance of our
Togetherness and
For old times sake
Bless you to live
And confer whole heartedly
My blessings and good wishes.
The Myriad Colors of NIT Hamirpur
They Danced for Your Glory…
The Batch of 1986 and 1987
Looking back at the old pictures, pictures of various events related to the making of NIT Hamirpur as you see it today, I reminisced about a number of happenings. Some brought smile on my face and some a rueful tear. But as they say life is a combination of the both so why to grudge? I thought of writing from my memory about some events that the old pictures refurbished.
To my astonishment I found that each picture had the ability to trigger a unique reference point, a story hidden in each of them. A story that seems to urge to be written about, to be shared with the present generation who despite having the best still rue for small things that they might lack!
The year was 1988, if I am not wrong. The then Governor of Himachal, His Excellency Vice-Admiral R.K.S. Gandhi was to come to our campus to lay the foundation stone of Civil Engineering Block (?) and the preparation for the same were in full swing. I was asked to get the girl students prepare some cultural dance item to be presented on the occasion of his visit. As we had only very few girl students at that time as we were running only two batches so almost all the girls had to participate in the event.
Those were the days when the girls would dance to the tune of local songs and not the popular beats of some filmy song. So half the girls were put in the dancing group and the other half in the singing group! We had some real talented boys who played harmonium and Tabla and provided the musical component to the song.
The first thought that invaded the mind of our girls was—“What would we wear for the dance?” We really needed proper dress for the dance and I remember how I scouted almost all the schools of the town to arrange for a proper dance dress. We were lucky that we got the colorful satin dresses for girls. At least one problem was solved.
The girls practiced hard and the harmony between the song and the action was just marvelous. Everything was set. The D-Day was sunny and bright and as the function was to be held in the open it really was a blessing. The girls needed a place to get ready but there was no building nearby except a make-shift store of Construction cell that was used as a “Green room” by the brave stalwarts. The presentation was announced by me as I was handling the announcements. Walked in the pretty damsels and stood on the floor mat waiting for the singers to start with the song. “La-a-a-a….” started they and the dancing group cam in action. Suddenly one of the girls in the singing group giggled and Lo—all of them started giggling—gigging right on the microphone. The spectators were surprised. I was angry at such display of indiscipline but they would not stop despite my icy stares. The Chief Guest, Vice-Admiral R.K.S. Gandhi, had a queer expression on his face. He never would have witnessed such a function ever before, I am sure. The girls stopped giggling after a while and all this time the dancing troupe stood bewildered in front of the spectators! The song resumed as did the dance also.
Why did your girls laugh???
It was the time for getting some prizes and I, too, was given one memento (the only one that I have till date 
).When I went to receive it from the Governor, he asked me, “Why did your girls laugh?” I was taken aback as I had not expected this question from him. I looked at him and asked, “Did you mind it?” “No, I didn’t” With an affable expression on his face replied he. “To amuse you, our girls wanted to amuse you” laughing aloud said I and he laughed with a guffaha. Everyone was laughing suddenly. These were the ways how dignitaries conducted themselves—openly and amicably—and not putting stiff and gruff expressions on their countenances. Life was simple and honest.
The Governor’s reaction saved the girls from the wrath that would have been unleashed on them that day by their warden; that was me!
By the way the picture has one very familiar face that you watch everyday—try finding it out! And don’t forget how these students danced in borrowed dresses, on the ground covered with a mat, and open in the sun, so that you could have an auditorium today!
Cheers to the Batch of 1986 and 1987!
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