Showing posts with label Meerut. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Meerut. Show all posts

The Meeting

Português: Nova Délhi (Índia) - Desfile do Dia...As we leave school, we are very eager in keeping in touch with or class mates and we do that quite often. Some also attend the same college and keep alive the memories of the school-days. However, in my case, most of my class mates were from quite afar, some even children of army personnel. Surely but slowly, we all drifted away, lost touch with each other as we found new friends in college, new acquaintances, new faces new atmosphere; all new. The adjustments, the comprises and the new style of studying all occupied our time and soon with the flow of the sands of
English: Photograph of an East India Company e...
Roorkee
 time, memories of our school mates drifted away.We kept in touch very little and with the job placements, we were once again faced with new adjustments, new faces, new environment, everything new. Yet at the back of our minds the school friends flitted in and out once in a while. Those we were close to, shared naughty tricks in school, bunked classes, talked about sex and girls, went for mass masturbation, cheated in exams; those we remembered more than others, We move from place to place and so do these memories. This is what happened with us Gabrielites of the 68/69 batches. It was the first English medium school for boys, hence we had attitude;and how !
The army was the in thing those days. The China War of '62 and the Pakistan war of '64 aroused a sense of patriotism in all of us and most of my classmates joined the Indian Army. The rest went into their family business; the farmer sons joined their fathers and so on. We all lost touch with each other; lost in the maze of life.
Then in the past few years came the computers, followed by the social networking medium. We did not realize the potential of this medium. Later,the importance of this medium of contact/communication struck us.
English: Bullock cart in India
The Bullock-Cart of yester-years
English: Rajiv Gandhi and R.L.Lakhina
 Rajiv Gandhi and R.L.Lakhina
 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The computer was nothing new for most of us. We had been keeping tabs on this new and silent revolution happening across the globe. India was introduced to this during the rule of Rajeev Gandhi, he being the first young man to lead India into the modern age. We jumped onto the bandwagon. We are from that generation that had seen the age of the bullock-cart. The era when cars were a rarity in rural India. To get one, we had to book it and wait for maybe 5-10 years to get the dream-car which was either a FIAT or the good old Ambassador.The telephone was a luxury few could afford; one had to wait for a period of 5 years to get the connection ! and that too a land line. That was the India that my classmates and I grew up in. An India that was growing and shaking off the British shackles of slavery, though the hangover was still visible.
Time passed; marriage, kids followed. Still most of us hardly kept in touch with each other. However, only those who were close (geographically) kept in touch, like my classmate and a farmer by profession, Satya Kumar Tyagi and I. We were for the past many years in Roorkee and together for these years. The rest of the classmates were getting in touch with us now and then. The mobile was another medium which helped us to get together. Finally, we really started getting in touch with each other regularly.
A couple of my classmates I had not met for the last 45 years ! That was quite some time not to see each other. Shocking ! All had changed, all. We had grown older, faces were wrinkled, children were settled (most of them) and most of us were leading a retired life.
Then came the surprise of surprises ! My class mate Rajeev Berry, from Dehra Dun motored down to Meerut to meet me. Now, that's what I felt was the urge and the impatience to meet. That too after 45 years. Earlier, the other classmate Pradeep Singh drove down from Delhi to meet me. That was something. It was quite something. I have no words to describe the experience. We stared at each other (politely) hugged and stood back to look at the impact that age had on us. We jabbered and jabbered about that part of life we had missed, brought each other up-to-date on each other's lives.
This meeting long lost friends is a strange experience. One's mind races back to the days of childhood when we were young. We look at each other, trying to replace the last look with the look that you see now. The change is drastic. The sense of meeting is heightened, the loss in years is gained, and the years roll back when we talk about the life in school. Once again we are young and back in school. The years had passed and we were looking back upon our former selves, the remembrance of whose emotions had been a solace in adversity and added zest to the enjoyment of the meeting. By recollecting the pleasures we had formerly, we renewed them, enjoying them a second time while we laughed at the remembrances of troubles now past, which we no longer felt now. Over a cup of coffee and sandwiches the three of us traveled into the pages of our shared history. The cool comforts of the cafe enhanced our travel. We delved into the antics of our batch, many names cropped up, many memories flooded back, revived by each other with some prompting from one corner or the other. This day was heavenly for us.
I am still wondering at the day even now. School mates, especially the batch mates, always hold something important. It is the moment that one forgets the huge gap of time and contracts time into a capsule, a capsule that can be expanded when and where one wants. Such wonderful memories; one that cannot be easily forgotten, ones that remind us that we were young once, ones that help us to make life more richer and meaningful.Such are these meeting with batch mates, school mates. It is truly said, "A child's learning is a function more characteristics of his classmates than those of his teachers." How true.  I realized I had grown old at this meet for I  became aware that "Middle age is when your old classmates are so grey and wrinkled and bald, they don't recognize you."
I shall always cherish this meet, always. Before I sign off, so go through the links below and as they say in latin: Vale donec deinde tempore (goodbye till we meet again)
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The Home-coming......the Waiting

Basilica of Our Lady of Graces, Sardhana,  Mee...
Basilica of Our Lady of Graces, Sardhana, Meerut, India  (Jitendra Singh : Indian Travel Photographer)
Boy, it is always good to be back home....The memories of Mussoorie shoot across my memory screen and I feel very very homesick even today..Getting down at Delhi, my son looked neither left nor right, went straight to the bus departure site, without refreshing ourselves hopped onto the first bus to Meerut. Both eager to reach home. And within no time (it seemed) we reached home. 
 St. George's College, Mussoorie
St. George's, Mussoorie
In typical movie istyle, I remember the good old days in Mussoorie. My brothers (three of them), at the term end, would trek fr
om St. George's , pick me up from Hampton Court and all would troop down to the bus stand and catch the empty bus to Dehra Dun, where Dad would be waiting to pick us up. The most exciting part of the trip was the rolling of three empty coca cola bottles as the bus rolled downhill to the Doon Valley below and us singing the latest we had learnt in school. Those days (in the late 50's) hardly anyone traveled much to the hills. Reminds me of a song by Roberta Flack,
The Very Best of Roberta Flack
The Very Best of Roberta Flack (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
 "Those were the days my friend......" Anyhow, the home coming was quite an affair: the welcome, the breakfast and the general jabber, the questions, the answers of the kids and the family members,,,Excitement was in the air and it was pretty kool inspite of the hot weather. Settling down to the changed routine was not very easy. But settle down I did. Our daughter and son were extremely excited to be joined once again with their parents. However, the exam results are near and the waiting was quite a task. It is with great impatience that the result for the CBSE secondary and senior secondary is awaited. Four kids in the family are waiting for their results.
Waiting......its a horrible phase of time. Somewhere someone is always waiting.....waiting for a lost love to return.......waiting for something to happen......waiting at the doctor's clinic.....waiting in line for the daily dole at the mandir.......waiting for the results of the exams given.....all these spaces of time are a nail biting experience for waiting is really painful, very painful. But the wait has to be borne with a smile, then it is a lesser burden and knowing that there are thousands of others gives some sense of relief. The trick is to make sure that one doesn't give up or die while one is waiting.
So also while waiting in the classroom, our hands are not idle (so our tongues!), and some of us take to doodling. While waiting for the bell to ring, that gong that tells us that lecture is over, the hand starts doodling on any paper on the desk, it might also be a text book of the subject. The doodling here must have been done at such a moment. The hand with the pen must have started on its inky journey on the text book itself. The pen just guided the hand that drew this. Wonderfully penned on the text book itself. What art, what style, what sense ! So much so, and as I wind up waiting for the CBSE results to be declared, here are some links to try out. Till then.......enjoy the links.....

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