Having being living in hostels almost my whole life, I wasn't scared about being away from home, on the contrary, I preferred it. What scared me a little was the course of MBA. Presentations, projects (a lot of them), CP, NCP and I had even heard about ACP and DCP. Being an engineer my Kryptonite was public speaking and more embarrassingly, I was one of those for whom speaking at all, to anybody, was a task in itself.
Well, there was nothing I could do about it. Having not secured a good enough job, MBA was the option left and thus here I was in E-405, getting dressed up in formals to leave for class. My first task of the day was to locate Mess-2. Pulled up my socks and on my way I went. Asking any human like figure I could find, I crossed H block, took the turns on maal road (didn't know it was called that then, but could justify the name later) and reached the mess. Now, after living in Tamilnadu for 4 years, if you're offered idli, AGAIN, for breakfast, you must think your life sucks. Mine did too, and I left for class directly hoping to get better lunch. Once again, through some aid, I reached acads block and found my class, LT-F. The letters 'LT' made me think I was in some Harvard or Oxford where there would be all serious and extremely studious students sitting alongside me and a teacher with a gazillion degrees who would like to call himself an academician more than a simple teacher, would enter and begin teaching right away. C'mon, I loved introductions class where no would teach or study and you get to know the names of girls/guys you would like to be...err..friends...yes friends with. But to my good surprise, a few students sitting in the class didn't seem how I had thought. They looked like normal Indian kids waiting for a teacher to come start teaching the daily math and science. I found an empty seat, away from everyone, and occupied it. I found they were all chatting but not sitting together, why? Wait, does the number 65 signify something? Is it my seat number? Perhaps, because there are numbers written in front of the tables. So, I occupied the seat number 65. To my left sat a chubby girl. But we didn't talk. In fact I didn't talk to anybody in the class much.
The classes started and I realised it was no Harvard. It was a normal college trying to imitate Harvard and well, not being able to. But it had its ups too. The projects in all the subjects gave me amazing friends, the chubby girl with whom I had had a real conversation only because an exercise in PEL made us do so and through that exercise we got to know a lot about each other. Destiny's way of bringing people together. And today she's one of the most important friends in my life but she's not so chubby anymore. The people sitting around me then, became my best friends and I think they always will be through the ups and downs we've had and may have. Met people through all the classes, we all had something in common. We either liked cursing the teacher and/or the subject or would just like each other. The way we wished to be in the same class at the end of first semester and we actually ended up together (From section B to M), with a few exceptions ofcourse. Then started the frenzy over seat numbers. I had got 9 after being in 65 the previous semester. God, I invented some new cuss words over that. I never failed to blame my seat number for getting bad grades. And eventually, I learnt to live with them, so much that all I wanted in all the tests was a C and getting a B called for a celebration.
Then the first year ended with the beginning of the internship. The era of mini placements where some of us were pushed into some internships forcefully by 'u-know-who'. I guess all of us escaped that too? How we missed the college during the middle of our internship and then missed the internship during the middle of college. The talks about presentations, guide visits, then the grading system they followed would always be remembered. The grading criteria was epic!
As the second year began, so began our specializations and the big daddy, PLACEMENTS. MBA became like another year in engineering where we bunked classes at will, seldom thought about CP and NCP. DCP and ACP were losing their sheen and so was our attendance. Having more than 85% attendance became a new taboo. Projects were done solely because we didn't want an F. Our way of preparing for presentation had taken a complete u-turn. Remember how we used to meet a week in advance and even spend a few days rehearsing the presentation? Atleast I did. And now, all I needed was an hour to collect the data I had to present. I would have no idea what others would be saying, and in one instance I didn't know who the other presenters were. That's how IBS transformed me. I learnt public speaking. I learnt that fear is just a state of mind and if you present the same project for 2 semesters in various subjects, with the confidence of Arnab Goswami, you're well on your way to becoming a smart manager. But more than academics, extra-curricular activities played an important part. Nobody knew who I was untill I joined Xpressionz as a script writer. Well, my script writing didn't do any wonders, but being a member of Xpressionz I was offered a role in Suits, the biggest hit of IBS till date. I played Minor Moon and that's what I was called henceforth by all. Facing Major Chand became a problem though! Biggest thanks to the whole team for that.
Gradually, everything passed, I got placed, many of my friends got placed, we partied and realised our time was coming to an end. Our actions and inactions were now driven by that fact. Many acquaintances became friends, some friends became acquaintances but that's how life has always been and will be. We need to go along with everything and that's what we did in the last few days in IBS, Hyderabad. 17th Feb was the last day I visited the city, the usual places. And as I was coming back, I realised, this is the last time I'm going back to IBS from the city, the last time, I'm ENTERING the campus, the last time the security guard's gonna frisk me and the last time I can be inside and be a student for one more day, just one more.
On the last day, 18th Feb, I had to leave by 6.30. So I began my tour of the whole campus. But this time it was not for all the beautiful girls I could check out, but capture the memories of the place for one last time. To check out what I had not untill now or even if I had, I had not really appreciated it. The hostel buildings with ancient lifts, the area in front of ABCD block, G block area, clinic area and the area beyond that. The last stretch of road at the end of the campus joining the acads block. The reading room and the library - a first year's second home in IBS. I have a lot of memories there. Nothing would be forgotten, the dhabas, Narender, peacock, loventilla, nothing at all. Not even Shankarpally, our Hyderabad city when we felt lazy and financially weak or needed a short quick break.
I stood outside the main gate, waiting for the bus to Mehdipatnam, for one last time. I knew I had to move on to give meaning to my time spent in IBS. I had to move on to show the world why I missed IBS and no matter how it is, it teaches you how to live and that life is one in a million. But still, before the bus could arrive I turned and looked back at the campus. There was a different world inside and I wasn't a part of it anymore. I kept capturing every detail I could untill a little drop of tear fell below my eye and a big lump chocked my throat.
I got the ticket to Mehdipatnam for one last time.
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