Flashback@Presidency

I was in Calcutta for a day and decided to make a trip to Presidency College where I spent my graduation years. I landed in the midst of familiar chaos at College Street – narrow footpaths cramped with bookstores selling old books, hawkers, buses, trams and rickshaws all jostling for space on the road. As I arrive at the college gate, I can’t stop grinning – a Che poster welcoming the freshers greets me on the portico wall. Quintessential Presidency! For a lot of outsiders I have spoken to, the Presidency environment seems highly politicised and somewhat inimical. For me and I guess a lot of other Presidencians as well, it is an integral part of what Presidency is – a virtual melting point of everything. From the moment you step into the college, it throws you into a vibrant chaos with no inhibitions. You may end up spending your college days slogging it out at the lecture theatres, sloganeering as a leftist leader or discussing philosophy in the canteen high on grass for all you know. The college does not promise a textbook education, it lets you choose (no archaic attendance enforcement rules exist), makes you question why and yet lends everyone a space for individuality.
Each department in the college had it’s place in a percieved value chain born out of past history and the college grapevine. Eco was quite high up with a certain element of glamour ( I am not sure why, probably the girls :), I wouldn’t believe if someone told me it was because of the guys, except for two batches senior:)). Batch sizes were typically small and an incredible student teacher camaraderie existed. Sadly enough, the college has been a victim of the state’s poor education policy, a reason why it falls short of good infrastructure and fails to retain the best faculty.

I turn left from the portico.I notice Derozio has been coloured a disappointing blue and stands a tad incongruously now. Inside the department, things are pretty much the same except for a new computer lab which occupies part of the erstwhile office. I stand around in the corridors for a while , how it just seems like yesterday!! The library looks better organised. I meet Balmiki da, our favourite assistant librarian and saviour to many an errant student. He tells me most of the old faculty has left and laments at what many think Presidency needs the most – good teachers. There is a new lady librarian in the EPL library. She looks up to me and asks “ Ei, first year? Library card nebe?”( First year?, looking for your library card?). I nod, murmur a soft no and walk out. There is something I must absolutely check before I go back. I walk into one of the lecture rooms, where a couple of young students are vociferously discussing Harris Todaro. I wave a hi and walk straight to the last row. My eyes look searchingly for that one last bench. Ah, there it is! I run my fingers on the rough inscription on it: “This bench is dedicated to the memory of those who died waiting for the bell to ring”. I look around the scores of names till I find mine etched somewhere in the corner. Atleast somethings in life remain just the way you remember when you left them last:). I smile to myself and walk away.