CIRCA 1958: I had just finished the pre-engineering course at Delhi University and had already secured admission in BITS, Pilani; Mining College, Dhanbad and the Marine Engineering College, Calcutta. But the big bridge was yet to be crossed.Even though IITs were nowhere near as hot as they are today, it was still the preferred destination. Soon the agonising wait was over. The interview call from IIT, Kharagpur—the only IIT at that time—arrived. Overjoyed, I bought a third class rail ticket in black. Hectic preparations followed. I was to travel on my own—perhaps for the first time. Advice poured in unsolicited—on clothes, food, ragging, the tough curriculum, and so on.Finally, it was time to leave. The whole family came to the station. More instructions: Be careful; no food from strangers; bag and shoes under your head.A day later I was at Howrah station and then onward to Kharagpur. A series of interviews followed and finally my name flashed on the magic list!I was on top of the world. It wasn’t only the heady feeling of going to the best engineering college in the country but also the ecstasy of that feeling of independence. There were apprehensions of course but, on balance, it was a great feeling.Since there was still time for the session to start, I began to explore the place. Barring aloo-parmal for lunch and parmal-aloo for dinner— with some watery dal and rubbery rotis—life was exciting. Nice airy class rooms, big auditorium, well-equipped labs, friendly people—especially the Anglo-Indian girls at the South Eastern railway colony where we went to play badminton. Everything seemed perfect.A few days had gone by when I received a letter from my father. It was a sentimental one. They were missing me. Even my grandparents missed me. My admission into the Delhi Polytechnic had come through and if I were to come back, it would be nice. I could stay at home. The last line was the clincher: ‘‘It would also save the family Rs 200 per month!’’ Obviously we had yet to recover from the partition crisis and two hundred rupees was a large sum.On receiving this missive, I immediately booked the first available third class seat to Delhi. It was only on the next day that I broke the news to some friends and a few professors. They were aghast. They berated me for not having discussed the issue with them. There are many scholarships, they pointed out, and something could have been done.But my mind was made up. My family wanted me back so I had to go back. Besides, my father would never let me accept a ‘merit-cum-means scholarship’. He was too proud for that.Besides, things were a lot different in 1958. You didn’t discuss and argue with your parents. You just did what they said, even what they wished without saying.
