Requiem for a Dream

[I penned this after watching an exceptionally brilliant PAF at IIT Bombay. I have always been averse to vers libre; however, I wrote this as the words came to me, and there was no other way I could write it.
Dedicated to Anirudh Rao, an IITB 2008 silver medallist ~ my elder brother. Only he knows how much he misses his alma mater.]

I miss IIT.

I miss waking up at 8:15 for an 8:30 lecture; and that too, after my door is nearly brought down by a wing-mate continually banging on it, and screaming my name- my early morning wake-up call, without snooze.

I miss opening my closet, putting on whatever smells fine, stuffing my books in a satchel, scurrying to the mess, grabbing a couple bananas, a glass of milk, and hitching a bicycle ride to the main building- with 5 minutes to spare.

I miss the professors.
I miss the lectures, and miss missing them.
The courses, the labs, assignments, deadlines.
And yeah, I miss missing the deadlines too!

I miss competing with the 9-pointer muggoos.
I miss competing with the 5-pointer huggoos.

I miss studying alone, in groups; the end-sem stress busters, night tea; the night-outs- last ditch efforts to save semesters.
I miss the oddly-timed exams: In the afty, at twilight, Sunday morning, midnight: No bad time for a bad paper.

I miss the results, which very shockingly were announced the very next day.
I miss scoring AB’s in subjects I loved.
I miss scoring BC’s in subjects I didn’t.

Oh! How I miss the acads at IIT!

I miss the PAF’s.
I miss the acting- the emoting; the cheering, the jeering- the anti-cheering.
The plots, the prod, the music, the lights, voice-overs.

I miss Mood Indigo.
The events, the pro-nites, the after-nites.
I miss organising it, and learning more about management than an MBA could.

TechFest, e-cell and Zephyr as well.
I miss InsIghT. I miss reading it, heeding it, contributing to it. I miss the Valfis!

I miss the Inter-IIT badminton matches. Basketball. Cricket, and tennis too.
I miss swimming about the Insti pool, and jogging about the Insti campus. I miss the campus!
The main building, the lawn; trekking up Sameer and watching the dawn.
Main gate, market gate, YP gate, the grounds.
Infinite corridor, semi-; seminar hall, convo.

And how can I forget the ubiquitous lingo?
The enthu, the fundoo, the fart, the fight?
Dayaa, junta, God, give-up?
Arbit, breaker, nbd, pain?
The pondy. The scope. The sorry rahega dost !

Oh! I miss-max the lingo at IIT!

I miss my room- my home away from home.
The mess in my room.
I miss the mess, the food; the TV, TT.

I miss my wing, and everything
about it: Wingies, anti-wingies, with their under-thingies, hung out to dry.
Bathrooms with banners- propaganda for posts. Gen Secy,
Hostel, Soc, Lit, Sports,
Canteen, Maint, Mess.

And yes,
Nine different rooms playing nine different songs.
Nine different people trying to sing along.
And yet when a wingie plays his guitar,
They all gather ‘round him, enthralled as they are.

DC++, the LAN, the LAN-ban.
All the wing,
in an all-night
movie-viewing.
Naruto. Downloads. CS.

The kick-ass
Birthdays, when you get your greets
From your friends’ feet. The wing treats
At Shera’s, Domino’s, BTC, Smokin’ Joes.
Goldflakes, Marlboros, smoking away the woes.
Whiskey, vodka, beer, talli.
Oh! I miss the chaddi-phaad holi!

Standing outside H10, looking at my watch;
A daily dose of coffee and sometimes butterscotch;
Canteen, shack, juice centre- Bhawani;
Huma, Kanjur, Hiranandani.

Oh! How I miss the life at IIT!

I see Padma reading this over my shoulder,
I see, in her eyes, some feelings do smoulder.
She reads it again, and when she hath read,
She tells me- bewildered, and shaking her head:
“But you weren’t in IIT- now just wait a minute.”
I nod my head, “And that’s why I miss it.”

They roll down my cheeks, they are her tears;
Of all that I’ve missed, I miss those four years.