I always worried that I would go back to campus after a few years, as a prestigious ‘alumnus’ of the institution, where people would address me as Sir, serve me coffee in the Placecom waiting room, and herd me to presentation rooms and guest houses. When all I wanted was mess chai and walks on the ring road. I worried that by the time I would go back to glean memories, I would be just a ghost, with hajjar memories of the place where no one would know me.

But just then.

Had this opportunity to go back to campus this month. I went to L to tell my juniors about my role and my company. To review CVs, to talk about career choices. To just talk. And it was just fantastic.

The trip was interesting at many levels. On my trip from Singapore to Delhi, I met a sardarji on the plane, who couldn’t speak much of English, and wanted help with his menu, his seat belt, talking to the airhostess etc. Turns out this paaji is a farmer in Punjab, and, the Sarpanch of a village in Jalandhar district, has already toured Sydney, Brisbane, Canberra, Singapore and London. We talked as if we had nothing to do (we didn’t); him chatting me up incessantly in his chaste Punjabi, me replying in Hindi and at the same time trying to make sense of what he was saying. Have had a similar experience once before in my summer internship when I landed in Amritsar. But this was funnier :) (especially when he started talking about which MLAs he was chuddi-buddies with).

Then spent just 10 frickety fricking hours in Delhi Airport (trying to sleep in all sorts of poses in the insanely uncomfortable Delhi airport chairs) because of fog. Reached Lucknow just in time for my presentation (which went pretty well, I think). Then talked and talked with all my friends, about career choices, interviews, companies et al. And ate missi di roti and sarson ka saag in the mess. Then dinner with all my IIC juniors. Bhai, maja aa gaya.

Then the crazy Delhi-Gurgaon story. Had a one day stopover at Delhi on my way back to Singapore. Met with five friends, my aunt, my uncle and my cousin in half a day. And ate Delhi chat at Om Sweets in Sector 14 of Gurgaon. And did I mention the bike ride in the nut-crunching cold without winter clothing? I’d rather not.

Anyhoo. It was a week of meeting old friends, eating good north Indian food, and saying stuff like “are you fuckin’ kidding me?!” while driving past run-down Gurgaon buildings, hearing about prices of matchbox sized flats (1.5 crores INR wonly). Week well spent, I’d say.

(1 votes, average: 3 out of 5)

 Loading …