scribblings

This afternoon, i had the (mis)fortune of lunching in what people call as the erstwhile narmada mess. I wish to take objection and still prefer refering to it as, Narmad Mess. It is still part of our hostel and the Taramani House has occupied it.

While sitting there for about half an hour, the place doesnt look one bit what it was in those days. In those 30 short minutes, i had a full recollection of most of the events, all the way from my first ever roll call. With a little effort, i could even recollect each meal i ate there.

The iron-stairs which take one to the mess from 3rd wing directly was over used by us in those days. The breakfasts we ran for, the lunches we ate over all the talking, the tea we drank at the stage, the dinners we ate for all that it was worth, they all came back. The day when we all left our dinner plates outside, the day when uncooked rice was served, the day when raw chicken curry was made, they day when plastic bags were found in mattar paneer curry, they all came back in a moment's time. The innumerable fights with the mess staff, the mess council meetings, each guy's face came back to memory.

All those discussions and GBMs we had there, the fights among junta, the ambiance and models we made for various things in that hall, each chart that was painted, each drama we had practiced, each nut that was bolted, each day came back to my memory. I could even remember all those days when the hall was used as a carpentry for all the doors we have in our rooms.

Well, they all remain memories now. They will remain as memories. Such once-in-a-while lunches and dinners, to which one gets invited, makes one feel nostalgic. else, having grub there regularly is a distant probably an impossible dream.

I hope, we get back this hall, after Taramani House builds its new kitchen.