Coming Home ... From Home

Bunking 16 classes in 3 days and liable to get a medical certificate for it, I ate lunch under constant envy. The three busiest days of the last term at an IIM and I was going to get away with sleeping in my room and watching movies. Envy is not what you expect after 3 days of 'malaria-like-symptoms'. But life's not fair. 25th, 26th and 27th of December. A major festival, my parents' anniversary and a close cousin's birthday - all spent sleeping. I had had enough. I was bored of bunking classes, of watching movies and of getting envied for it. And then my past caught up with me. A few days ago, I and Sanket Bhale had planned to go home to end the year. We'd even gone a step further and booked tickets.

As I sat in the auto taking me to the railway station with barely minutes to catch my train, I so joyfully exclaimed - I'm going home! So much for the classes, so much for the globe and so much for the envy. Home was where I was headed. Finally, after an inspired run across almost the entire length of each of Kozhikode's railway platforms, I finally sat down and let the sweat and the thoughts pour.

Calicut, or Kozhikode, as I know it, had been home to me for the past 18 months. Every time I went to Mumbai in a term break, home meant Kozhikode. Kerala, the lush green country, the backyard economy where the easiest way to have coconut water was to climb a tree with an axe. Where a two-laned road that could barely accomodate your bike and the oncoming bus was called the National Highway. And where you would get fined for overtaking on a right turn but not for having 2 pillon riders. That is what home was. Now, something was changing. Mumbai was home again.

Kozhikode was special. Everytime we returned, we'd laugh at the arbitrariness of the shops. Chit funds had proper offices. Some were Hilarious, literally. Chit funds being what they are, based on trust and the fear of social stigma, 'Hilarious Chit Funds' seemed like a very audacious name to give to your company. But over 18 months, it had only grown if nothing else. Kozhikode, where everything lay on one road, so you were either going towards your destination or directly away from it. Villages would pass by on such journeys, much like two rows of houses on either side of the road, like somebody forgot that you could build perpendicular roads. Bylanes were a rarity and driving skills ever more so. Where the Highway Patrol actually patrolled and the Traffic Police would rather find an excuse to let you off than accept a bribe.

Coming home from Mumbai was always an experience you didn't want to miss. The airport had thrice as many international flights as domestic ones. The houses, resplendent in their violets, mauves and bright yellows, always managed to stand out against the tropical coastal vegetation (which is mostly coconut tree trunks). So did the long queues in front of what we thought were Government Ration Shops. It only took one trip to shop for liquor to correct us.

It was a different home from the one I'd grown up in. But the short while that it was home, it was a solace to return. On this afternoon of 28th December, this journey with Bhale and Saxena, from Calicut to Mumbai, is different. I'm going home, from home.

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)

You have a visitor...

Unannounced, he showed up at the door. And thanks to the open door policy that I follow, he came right in. It was just a stroke of luck that I looked up from my work and saw him. After all, these creatures are known for their stealth.
Yes, you guessed it right - It was a snake. I am not an expert on snakes, but by its movement I could tell that it was a sidewinder. A sidewinder!!!... on a hill... in coastal Kerela.... aren't they found on desert sand??.... Yeah right!!! When you have a snake in your room 5 feet from you, you aren't really wondering if it belongs to that part of the country. You don't wanna know how it came in?? All you are worried about is how you are going to get it out. And when it roams proudly between you and the door, you don't even bother if it dosen't wanna leave; if it takes over the room. You only want to get out - let the damn thing stay! And, with your eyes fixated on that 'creepy','scaly' 'thing', you are only praying that the electric supply hasn't chosen that very moment to ditch you.

Well, that was what I kinda went through just past midnight after a relaxed Saturday evening which included a nice Grand Dinner in the mess and some cool songs by RJ Khadoos on K-dio. Our friend, who I still believe was a sidewinder (though Kalal sahab says that it was definitely a Krait), was 6 or 7 inch long, probably a kid looking for his mom(I am very glad she didn't come looking for him in here!), happened to wander into my room sometime around 1230am while I was busy working away at an Ethics assignment. So from a semi-drugged state, one sight of our friend put me into hyper-alert mode. Girls would die to have that effect on a guy. Who knows, our friend might have been a 'she' (killer looks... hmm...)

I had always believed that I didn't fear anything, but life at an IIM has other plans.

I finally did manage to get out, call the hostel 'chetta' and reclaim my room. Like they say in the ads, "Darr har kisiko lagta hai, muh har kisika sukhta hai(Everybody is afraid sometime, everybody has a moment when his mouth dries up)" and "Darr ke aage Jeet hai (There's always victory beyond your fears)".

Note: My only grouse is that I couldn't click a photograph as our friend chose to roll itself around my study table leg in one dark corner before it was removed. (All the animal lovers out there - our friend was not hurt or killed - it was just taken away :-) )

Had written these earlier and posted them elsewhere... posting them here....

Somewhere towards August end....
9 weeks and counting... ... Things are beginning to settle down. People are beginning to settle down. But the dust has just begun to cloud the atmosphere. The questions of India, of language, of movies and summers and exams keep us awake when we shouldn't be. Or should we....
A lot is happening... a lot is being said, and a lot is being heard. They know we sleep in class. They know we dont want to attend lectures. They know that all we want is fat pay packets. And they know that they have a job to do, a responsibility to fulfil, a goal to achieve and a name to live up to.
We know they know. A fine balance. IIM K.


Around July mid.....
3 and a half weeks on Kampus and one thing is for sure - Success dosent come easy.
Decisions at every step, deadlines every hour and an overload of opportunities when you wake up. At IIMK, the server never sleeps. If you check your mail 3 times a day, you're not an internet addict, you're left behind. 'Do it more often.'

This close-to-a-month here has taught me the meaning of relativity. Ability to do your work is relative. The speed at which you do it is relative. The number of hours you have in a day is relative.

IIMs don't teach you how to manage people. They imbibe in you how to manage yourself.
Every single day, a reminder: SELF-DISCOVERY