Back to the roots: NBMC Visit
I made a brief visit to my college. It was a 19 hour stay, brief and to the point, but turned out to be touching in more ways than one. As I have duties to answer for in Kolkata, revisiting the campus is easier said than done. I had to get a paperwork done from the college office this time. I chose the Shatabdi Express because of the comfortable ride it offers and its afternoon timing. I had the good old Dr. Sap waiting with his bike at the station to receive me. After I had rested and updated myself of the recent campus happenings, we met Dr. Basu at a tea stall for a cup of midnight tea. The hostels looked eerily familiar in the night, only the faces new. Sap suggested having dinner at a truck dhaba and the two of us sped on his bike in the dead of the night. 100 kmph at 3 am on the rain-washed highways with the cool North Bengal wind hitting the face brought memories of college days back. You can never go wrong with hot piping dhaba food, it tasted heavenly! I found Dr. Basu in the wards giving a round of his patients in the wee hours of dawn, first year of surgery residency is keeping him busy for sure. I took the keys of his room and got my shut eyes for a few hours. Basu woke me up the next morning and treated me with a hearty breakfast in the hostel mess. I did get my paperwork done alright at the college office, no red tapism! While going to the hospital from the hostel, I walked along the hospital corridors. It is really touching how every inch of the college feels so known to me. It is as if only yesterday I was a student there! And although friends from my batch have all left, I felt immensely glad to see the few who are now there. It was also good to see our Super at the helm of affairs, going strong in his second stint. Lunch was courtesy a senior, who had invited me to their new house at Uttorayon – it’s a beautiful bungalow house tastefully decorated with a rustic and close-to-nature look. His driver dropped me off back to the hostel, and after I had said goodbyes to Dr. Basu, reached me to the station as well. The sight of the Darjeeling Mail whistling on the platform didn’t fail to bring back old memories, once again.