A Feeling called Mumbai

The final objective test of the year was over, and the moment had finally come when I could say that I had completed twenty percent of my journey as an IITian. Others say-'I am 25%
engineer' or 'I am 20% scientist', but I disagree. After all, this was only the first-year, and we have hardly started studying courses that actually pertain to our branch....

Anyway I return to my room, to start my preparations to leave KGP. It had been an eventful year for me here. Though I had mostly turned away from the extra-curricular after a shockingly low GPA of 7.25, I cannot quite say that I had spent my 2nd semester as a goody nerd 'maggu', which is what one has to be, unfortunately to get a respectable GPA of more than 8.5. I was sure that I had done better than the last semester (or at least could say that I was about get better grades than what was assigned to me) but who was to say that God would not send down a bolt from the blue, and get me all red over my not-so-golden gradesheet.

Enough of that; moving on. I came to my room, and spent the next few days alternatively packing my many belongings and packing up my 160 GB hard drive with goodies-softwares, their tutorials, movies, songs and all those stuff that one requires to survive. Once I was loaded and locked I set out on an epic journey to the Civilised West from the Wild East, a journey that would take an not-so-adventurous young man to his destiny-a well earned three month break from academic life, where one was free to pursue a course of life as one wished, as one always wanted...

And where exactly was one going?

Mumbai-largest, populous, popular and glamourous, with its lights, big buildings and fantastic hang-out spots, seemed too far away from here, IITKGP, which was everything I have mentioned about Mumbai, but in a not-so-awesome way, which can't be explained...

I have come along way since I used to be small, innocent and, possibly, likeable. And now, I was at a juncture of my life when people take one look at me and mutter with a frown, 'Teenagers!' Being a target of stereotypes was something we teenagers had come terms to with our own way-ignorance.

I sensed my fellow passengers' trepidition when I sat down at my seat. As if I would jump at their luggage and start shredding their valuable into little pieces in front of their eyes. Just one-an old lady struck up a converstion with me.

'Where are you headed?'

'Mumbai', I was honest to say the least.

'You are in shipping business here?'

I was taken aback at that question, but cottoned on soon, having faced with similar absurd questions before.

'No, I am at IIT Kharagpur, first year, actually.'

I didn't look around at the others, though I was aware of their eyes on me - I had learned a long time ago how to avoid being a conversation about how IITs would lose their sheen soon, and how IITians were contributing to brain drain.

'Excuse me.' I said and climbed up to the top berth. It was 10:00 PM anyway.

Seat No. (something) , Third A.C. coach, A2, Geetanjali Express -my address for the next 36 hours. Well I had a few friends on the same coach, but I had decided to spend my time on the train doing one thing I was quite good at-sleeping. Being awakened unceremoniously by the men-in-red-uniforms-who-served-food-on-a-train was probably the worst part of the journey, followed closely by the quality of the food they served.

The 'epic' journey came to an end, just like all bad things do (yeah, they do!), and I set foot in the station floor, breathed in the station air, and immediately coughed: change was in the air. Change is good, but it'll take time to befriend it.