Of Good Times






My new job requires that I complete a transcript validation. That made me call up my father to send me the syllabi of courses that I had taken in ancient times. He spent two or three afternoons in the sweltering heat of Bhubaneswar in making trips to the University, colleges and educational institutions that I attended many decades back. According to him the syllabi were literally archeological excavations from the mounds of dust covered paperwork. He spent a few thousand rupees to DHL the stack of papers to me. I spent a day looking at them, then another day looking into them. As I leafed through the sheets, I could not imagine we could have amassed so much information in such little time. I bet I could never do it now, I thought. Algebra, Trig, Calculus, Real Analysis, Schordinger's wave equation, Spectroscopy, Reaction mechanism, Group Theory, Cholorophyll, Daffodils, Simon's Papa, Dear Departed.....Wow!! I was proud of myself! I could actually digest all that??

Pages from the Masters syllabus took me beyond class rooms of the University. Friends. I have been more in touch with my school friends than with after school. Guess that's always true as you are with the same people for at least 10 years of your life. I still dream of my school classroom. Ms Nalini's class. I can see most of my friends sitting in their seats. I can smell the corridors and feel the excitement of having a new teacher. But I have mostly forgotten my college and University friends. We interacted much less and were together for fewer years.

But some have lasted the memory-wash. Like Aparna. He had a huge name. Aparna Shankar Prasad Mishra. ASP Mishra he was called. A slim fellow, chewing paan most times, a swager in his voice, Aparna attracted most as a leader. He had a different specialization in Chemistry than I did, but we were together in the same classes most of the first year of Masters. In his leadership role he said "tu" to me and I liked that very much. Aparna wasnt much of an adviser to me because there were times when I could do with some (!) but his short statements put a lot of restraint into my actions.

The hostel boys had a way with tea. I have never been a tea drinker. Or for that matter any beverage. But some chilly December afternoons, Aparna would be drinking tea with the other guys. He would ask us girls if we wanted any. I would say 'yes' because it seemed very grown up. As luck would have it, I would take a quick big gulp from the small tea glass and burn my tongue. Seeing me wince, Aparna would joke, "Dont try it. You havent reached that standard yet". That joke stuck. Everytime he would catch me failing at something, he would say "You havent the standard". I liked his way of chidding. Among some of the rowdy hostel guys who took pains to trouble me for some reason or the other, I always hid behind Aparna's skinny frame.

We took our yearly exams together. We took the national level tests together. Aparna visited me at home. He sent me new year cards. He said he liked my handwriting. We went for picnics together where I would sing my lungs out in the bus. Aparna also lead a truant class on a weekday to see the circus. I cannot recollect why, but one day I had a fight with Aparna. I wasnt talking to him. That day as I quickly walked past the seminar room, I suddenly pulled a calf muscle. It is a terrible pain when you have a cramp come up suddenly as an uncontrolled contraction. I bent down in pain. These cramps usually last a minute or so but it seemed interminably long. Aparna came sauntering from somewhere and ordered me to sit on a chair. I did not want to take orders from him at that moment but I couldnt help sit. He bent down with his usual swager, took the leg and rubbed it quickly muttering, "You havent the standard".

Amidst many eventful days, I fell in love with a senior. Aparna was many times my silent supportful pillar during the emotionally stressful days. Two years of Masters and we parted ways. Aparna left Bhubaneswar and found a job. I stayed on with my studies for a year longer, married (my senior) and left Bhubaneswar for Delhi. Aparna and I wrote each other inland letters. He said he copied my handwriting. But I thought he had a good hand himself. Aparna kept in touch with my parents and our other classmates from the University. Sometimes he filled me in on updates on who got married and who had kids. He remained a good friend in every sense of the word.

Many years later my second child was born. I named her Aparna. Minus the Shankar and Prasad.



(Picture: 1991 Puri beach. Aparna is on the right. I am in black and yellow. On the left are Priyabrata, another good friend and Nilakshi a junior in Masters).