Saturday 21 February, 2009

K by night...

As I sit it out the night at the amphitheatre; the massive, yet beautiful and defining structure of the academic hill at IIMK, the surreal atmosphere engulfs me and rejuvenates me. For someone who spent most of his life in the din and smog of a metro, this is heaven.

When darkness descends, K springs to life. In the dying moments of the twilight, numerous joggers and fitness freaks descend down the hill to the lakeside and meet with the footballers replenishing themselves at the Amul store after a long day's play. Those untouched by the fitness craze wake up groggily from their afternoon siestas and sitcoms, rub their eyes and rush to the Night Canteen for a quick bite. Sleep does make you hungry around here. Mails start getting sent and mailboxes start ringing like cash registers at an Udipi restaurant in downtown Mumbai. Meetings are called and assignments are delegated. And before you know it, its dark and the moon has risen high in the sky. Those who eat at the mess have already done so and the others wait impatiently for 10pm. Post-dinner the meetings are held - Amphi, Harvard steps, B-block and the more popular Cross-roads get their share of attention. This time from 8pm till 2pm sees the most activity on campus. Then the night begins.

As people retire to their rooms to get past the ever-piling stock of movies and sitcoms, a new-found creed springs to life. Donning their new T-shirts, the Counter Strike players storm the LAN network with cries of "Go Go Go". Then the campus goes to rest. Or atleast pretends to.
Its 4am and I walk out of my room to the Moonlit Grove and pretend to study the stars. This place has personal memories for me. This is where I held her hand and gazed at the stars and the moon. Even then it was 4am. The feeling seems so distant now. As I search for the moon, I see a tiny sliver of orangish hue towards the eastern sky. I smile and walk on.

The sole light at the top of the Watch Tower sets the tone for the architectural beauty that surrounds me. Rows of columns in the A-block play hide-n-seek with the light and shadows. The library stands strong and robust like General of the Panzer division at Normandy. Its mere presence is assuring. An airconditioner from the Computer Centre hums away in the distance, much like the bees in the beehive that flanks it. A cricket calls out in the distance. And then all is silent. What remains is just that majestic, surreal feeling that wouldn't let me sleep, that says,' Why wouldn't anyone want to be here?'

I am reminded of Amir Khusrau...
'Agar firdaus bar roo-e zameen ast, Hameen ast-o hameen ast-o hameen ast.'
(If there is a paradise on earth, It is this, it is this, it is this)