A (Really) Restored Emotion

It was a typically humid day at the seaside town of Vallabh nagar. Not a leaf moved, and the sun shone down relentlessly on the streets and on the National Institute of Technology, the VNIT, the pride of the town.

Nakul, seated at the main office counter, was drowsing in his chair when he was woken up by the loud ringing of the phone. "Good afternoon, VNIT Admission and Information section, how may I help you?" He had been trained to be extremely polite, since potential students could even be from overseas, and so every step had to be ensured so as to not miss an opportunity of admission.

"Hi, I'm Srinivas Rao, of the '95 batch", said the voice at the other end. Nakul sat up. He was quite used to getting calls from students of the '80s and '90s, either planning reunions or enquiring the whereabouts of the professors who taught them. Nakul himself was a young man in his late twenties, so all these personalities seemed slightly ancient to him, nevertheless he had a file with all relevant information by his table for just such occasions. On finding that Srinivas Rao was intent on organising a batch reunion, Nakul began to rattle off his oft repeated list - the auditorium was now equipped with state of art facilities and a wide screen, a banquet hall was now available for dining and drinks; and in winters, outdoor seating could be arranged too. He was cut short though, by Srinivas, who said that they preferred to have it in the old hostel building.

"The old building, Sir? But that's really…old. I mean, it's quite small and dull, if you know what I mean…"

"It's all about sentiments, young man. It accommodated us all, an entire batch of students, comfortably. We have memories invested there. Food shared, midnight parties, booze, cigarettes, long talks into the night. The mess food was not so great but we had some amazing discussions and banter. We would definitely prefer it to the new fangled auditorium and banquet hall. Which reminds me, we would like to eat at the mess hall, but please arrange for the best food and drink. We will cover all expenses. I have spoken to the Director, Mr. Srivastav; he will be speaking to you shortly. Since he's travelling at the moment, I thought I'll give you a heads up." 

The Director phoned a few minutes later. 

"Nakul, did you get a call from Mr. Srinivas Rao? Listen, nothing but the best to be arranged for this particular batch reunion. Mr. Rao is the CEO of a software company, and has kindly offered a complete revamp of the Computer Science department; especially the Robotics section. You take the help of Mrs.Sen and together you make sure all boxes are checked … food, seating, also entertainment if needed. Report to him regularly and copy it to me." "Yes Sir", replied Nakul as he sprang to action.

Srinivas Rao, Srini to his friends, took off his shoes and sat cross legged on his study chair; a habit of old, one that he still did while alone or in the presence of family and friends. He sipped his strong filter coffee slowly as he went through the day's agenda. The WhatsApp group had been throbbing with excitement ever since the date for the reunion had been announced. Flights and rooms were being booked, and many were planning to meet up in groups and travel together to Vallabh nagar. 

For the 1995 batch, the 25th year would have been a grand get together in the year 2020. It also meant that they would be meeting again after a gap of five years, having had a reunion in Delhi in 2015. This special occasion was to be held at VNIT itself, and Srini had planned an elaborate event titled '2020-In Hindsight'. Unfortunately though, the world came to a standstill as the pandemic took over. To add to the misery, they lost three of their batchmates to the dreaded virus. The entire group rallied together and immediately set up funds for the three bereaved families. This year, everyone was hopeful that things would go as planned, without any hitch.

Srini, Amit (known as Lambu for his height) and Rohit (famous as Macchar) were the trio of their batch. Actively involved in most events, it was unanimously decided they take up the mantle again for this special year. The theme was to gather at VNIT and recreate the days of nostalgia; as such, the hostel would be the centre of attraction. The idea was to spend a good few hours in their rooms and culminate the day with some fine dining at the hostel mess room.

Nakul had been dutifully sending in details regarding the preparations. But one thing puzzled Srini. He reached out for his mobile to clear it.

"Hello, Nakul, great going with the arrangements, but I noticed that you haven't put in the charges for the catering? Amazing menu by the way!"

"Thank you Sir," replied Nakul, "and the food is on the house, Sir. The chef said not to charge for it, he's honoured to be catering to your batch."

"Really? I mean, that's fantastic!" But we shouldn't really be taking advantage of his gesture… who is he? I would love to speak to him myself!"

" He is Executive Chef Rahul Singh, Sir. He is in charge of the entire preparation, planning, supervision and arrangements of food and drinks. It will be of five star standards, he assured us. And he absolutely refused to charge anything. Apparently he's an alumni of VNIT." 

"An alumni?" exclaimed Srini. "Young man, do you realise what you're saying? It's an engineering college! How can a chef be a past student?"

"With all respect, Sir…career changes do happen."

"Yes. Yes, of course, that's absolutely logical. Please convey our thanks to him, and I'll meet him in person as soon as I land in Vallabh nagar. Keep up the good work!"

Srini couldn't believe his ears. His coffee was left unattended as he was lost in his thoughts. Rahul. Rahul Singh. Could it be…? No, impossible. Yet…maybe it was him? 

The only Rahul Singh their batch knew was their immediate junior, a swaggering third year student with connections to the local goons. He was primarily the reason why their final year Student Election had quickly escalated to a full blown fight on the college grounds among the students and the local gang, complete with rods, cricket bats and hockey sticks; and could have ended with serious consequences if not for the timely intervention by the Principal.

But this guy, a highly qualified Chef, an alumni? No way, no way there was any connection. But then again, Rahul was a name quite popular at the time - (Naam toh suna hoga?), so it could be someone else. Anyway, we'll know soon enough, thought Srini.

             ******

Amit Sharma, Lambu to his friends, was seated at the boarding gate for his flight when he spotted a familiar face at the next row. An elderly gentleman was reading a newspaper propped on his knee, and by what Amit could see, he felt strongly that it was their college Principal, Professor Shastri. Only way to find out, he decided, as he made his way to him. 

A few minutes later, a delighted Professor Shastri and Amit were having coffee and cake and reminiscing about the good old days. "Are you in touch with your students Sir?" asked Amit, as he passed on another cake slice onto the Principal's plate. "No," sighed Prof. Shastri, " I used to email some of them initially, but now everyone is on Facebook and other such places, and I'm not really comfortable with all that. But I do bump into someone or the other, like now!"

"Your batch, my dear boy, was one of the most unforgettable batches our college had," smiled the Principal, "I'll always carry fond memories of you all." 

" Some not so fond memories too, I guess, Sir?" Amit couldn't help asking.

"Ah, the election scenario, you mean? We've seen worse, believe it or not. Let's be honest here Amit, you yourself must be a father to kids of nearly the age you were at the time. Think about it. Young blood, they can get carried away. But for the one in charge, being the more mature and experienced person, the only way is to handle it calmly, explain the consequences, and trust them to realise their mistake. I never believed in punishing just because I had the power to do so. It was important for me to see my students learn from the experience and do better. No, the ugly fight is not what I remember you all for. I remember your batch being one of the best when it came to standing up together for each other. You stood up against ragging and bullying. You formed the Anti Ragging Committee. You guys shared a bond that was strong, really strong. And now, by what I hear you say, you are all still in touch with each other, and on sadly losing some of your friends, the entire group stood by to offer support to the families. That is what matters. That is what you take away from your college life. The education, the results, the medals won, that help of course, but it's these qualities that you all have that will get you through life. Proud of you, my boy." 

"Sir", queried Amit, " hopefully you are free this month end?" 

             *******

The reunion was planned on a Sunday, so they had the whole college to themselves. The old hostel had been spruced up for the occasion. The men turned into young boys, excitedly running across the corridors to their rooms, sitting at the study tables, and lying down on the beds. Photos were clicked at various places - a favourite nook here, a fond memory there; every inch of the place bringing a rush of memories. "Here's where we smoked while you told me about your heart break!" "Remember the carrom matches?" "Hey look, the grill gate still doesn't shut fully!" "The bathrooms are so much better now! Lucky kids nowadays!" Happy chatter filled the air, as each one of them recounted many memories of long nights spent in completing their engineering drawings, of making wild holiday plans that never happened, of dreams and crushes. 

The mess room looked vastly different from their days, of course. Everyone pleasantly observed what a far cry it was from the good old days. The dull tables and dreary menu were replaced by an extremely elegant arrangement, with a bar and buffet corner, each with welcome drinks already in place. Waiters in uniform glided silently around, replenishing drinks while they served the starters. 

A feast awaited them. Kebabs and fragrant pulao, soft naans, koftas in creamy sauces were among the numerous flavourful dishes, topped by a rich choice of desserts.

Between the food and drinks, Saurabh Shukla, their champion singer, entertained them by singing songs on demand. Here too, the nostalgia awakened as they realised that the movies they had watched in their college days had gone out to become evergreen films, each creating records of their own, like DDLJ, Hum Aapke Hain Kaun, and 1942 A Love Story. The fondest memory, though, was of the movie Rangeela, which the entire batch had watched together, booking nearly the entire seats of the Navrang movie theatre for the occasion. 

Once desserts were served, Srini stepped up to address the group. "Guys, I hope you enjoyed the lavish spread," he smiled, and was answered by a thunderous, unanimous 'Yes'. "I would like you all to meet the amazing chef who created today's menu. I met him just a few hours ago; before I introduce you to him, may I also inform you that he bore the expenses of the entire celebration meal." The audience gasped. Srini continued, "He is someone who we know, and he would like to say a few words on this occasion. Gentlemen, please meet Executive Chef Rahul Singh!"

There was a sudden silence. Everyone was trying to comprehend what they just heard and what they were seeing. Rahul Singh stepped up, in chef attire, and looked at them all.

"Friends," he began; "I owe you all an apology, big time. I hope I have made it up in my own small way today. To be part of your celebration is an honour. I spoke to Srini today, and want to share my story with you all too, if you don't mind." 

Everyone continued to look stunned as Rahul continued, "I'll keep this as brief as possible. I am originally from Lucknow, UP, the same as Macchar, as you all know. Lucknow is a cuisine lover's delight, and I was always fascinated by the dishes and also what went into them, specifically. All I wanted to do was immerse myself in those spices and seasonings. But my father would have none of it. Mera koi beta bawarchi nahi banega! He was very clear that I get an engineering degree. The reason? It would fetch us a good dowry! Get a degree, marry, and sit back and look after the family property. This was his plan for me, and he could see nothing wrong in it. I was furious, I protested, but I was...what…an 18 year old completely dependent on my father for everything. I had absolutely no say in the matter. My Class 12 grades were excellent and so I landed up at VNIT. But I decided that since my father had made my life miserable for me, I would now make life miserable for everyone around me."

Rahul paused to take a deep breath. "The day of the fight. When our Principal stopped our fight, I, the main person responsible, was nowhere to be seen, right? The general view was that I had slipped away and a staff member reported the activities to the Principal. Well, that was partly true. I slipped away, yes, because I suddenly realised that things had gone completely out of control and I seriously felt this was going to end in bloodshed. I slipped away, went straight to the Principal Quarters and blurted out to him about what I had caused. He calmly told me to sit in his study room, and not move, while he went into action immediately by calling the police. Once the situation subsided, he returned, asked his wife to get us both some tea, and asked to be left alone with me.

We had a long, long, talk. I spoke to him about my father, my fears, my anger. He was extremely patient with me. He pointed out that I was aimless, and that I needed to channelise my energy into becoming a better person. He guided me, advised me. We talked well into the night. That talk changed my life. I kept to myself for the next few weeks, thinking, rethinking. By the time my final year started, I had made progress in clearing most of my backlogs. I worked like hell in the last year. Managed to pass out with a decent percentage. 

The day I received the graduation certificate, I got it framed. I went over to my father, bowed to his feet, and handed him the frame. His face lit up, of course, but I had news for him. Before he could say anything, I told him to hang the frame in his room, since that was what he had always wanted. I told him my duty is done. I informed him that I had enrolled in a Hotel management course and had obtained a study loan from the bank to cover my fees. No one could now come in my way. To cut my story short, my friends, that is how I reached where I am now. My only regret is that I have not been able to get in touch with our Principal, to whom I owe my gratitude. The college could not provide me with clear details, and he's not the type who will be on social media. If any of you know his email or phone number, please do share it with me."

"I think we can do better than that," grinned Lambu, as a taxi stopped at the entrance and Principal Shastri stepped out. 

A loud cheer greeted him as he stepped into the hall. Rahul's eyes brimmed with tears as he moved forward to clasp his mentor's hands. Prof. Shastri softly ran his hand over Rahul's hair, blessing him. He then turned around and greeted all his students. As he made his way to the chair offered to him, he exclaimed, "Vallabh nagar's humidity is still going strong, I say! But why are the fans not running?" he asked, as his eyes moved upward. 

"Just give it a few minutes, Sir," said Rahul, "we just switched on the AC."

"AC chalu hai Sir," he said again, winking broadly at the others. And instinctively, the whole room called out - "Toh idhar ghooma na!"

Amid the loud laughter, a toast was raised. Cheers! Cheers to a wonderful reunion!