The Legend of Tata Patna

"What is Science ?" the voice reveberated in the lobby that winter morning as I was climbing the stairs to second floor where classes for first years are held.I was already late for the class."Be careful with your chemistry class" is what my senior had reminded me the previous evening.My watch showed quarter past Nine,the lectures begin at Nine which meant I was late by Five minutes.I kept my watch Tem minutes ahead of normal time but somehow the fact that my watch was Ten minutes ahead of time was always there at the back of my mind so I ended up doing things at my own sweet pace. "Shouldn't have ordered another Paratha ! " I thought thinking about the breakfast I had just had .Cursed the mess boy for taking ten minutes to bring one simple paratha.So the mess boy or "Butroo" as we called them was to be blamed for my delay and not me.I cannot say this to proffy though.Deep within I knew it wasn't my fault.It was a reassuring feeling with lot of unease.Unease because in moments I would be confronting the deadliest,cacophonously vociferous legend of our college fondly known as "Tata Patna" amongst students.Me preyed on young innocent minds,he was a tormentor."Tata Patna is an interesting name wonder how he got that name " I thought for a while as I was walking .."This is not a good time to think about this " quickly shrugging it off my mind.I had to quickly think of a reason read excuse with a proper explanation incase he asked.It had to be better than an excuse it had to be a master excuse if ever there is such a word."Got up with fever" wouldnt work."My roomie wore the only undy I had" sounds interesting but wouldnt work."Forgot my way to class" is a daft excuse ."Woke up with Amnesia in the morning ,have just regained memory" wouldnt work either."I'm a dead man" was the next thought "He will eat me alive for his Breakfast" I prayed his wife had given hime a good breakfast ."Seniors caught me on my way to class" Hmmmmmmm could work.we were the oppresed,we were gullible and hold up was not new to college .There was an unwritten protocol in college "Blame it on seniors but never ever in eternity mention their names".Nothing better than tried and tested it wasn't a time for creativity to flow,anyways I am never at my creative best so earky in the morning. "He just rapes you if you are visible in class" said one senior some time back.I did not know what he meant,how can some be invisible in class yet be present ? What a daft question ,I know a guy who could do it ....Mr India but he existed only in movies.I wished I had the invisibility band of Mr.India,just use it for entering the class and regain visibility once inside.How did he get named after a Train ??Tata Patna is a daily express train running between Tata and Patna.Is it the speed of his speech which makes him akin to TP or is it the sheer noise he makes or does his face resemble the Locomotive with all those round edges and a big fat nose."Tata Patna always leaves at 9" I remembered someone saying this as he referred to punctuality of the train."Tata Patna" my mentor is never late to class.There it was,a plausible exlpanation behind this little naming connundrum.I took a bow to my self for this feat,there was a sense of elation and my face was gleaming with pride but I had no time to celebrate."Tata Patna" was one of the finest professors in the college.He had an esteemed reputation and was revered among his fraternity.Revered by a bunch of old wrinkle faced world bashing oldies doesnt mean he his genuinly liked by all but this wasn't the time to be honest there was a larger peril looming over my head.My survival depended on it ."Yes You at the back !!" I heard his crisp voice loud and clear as I neared the class room.It was like rattling of a sten gun.I felt a bit unease in stomach "Damn those Parathas !!".The unease grew stronger and I could feel the guts of my stomach churning out extra juices which made me sick."I'm not well " I thought and there was the escape route.what if I didnt go to his class at all that way I could easily escape the torment.Why did I not think of this earlier.I did not have the keys to my room that was another problem .I couldnt just wander in the college as that would mean even more danger.Danger of falling prey to seniors waiting in anticipation like a pack like hunting dogs near canteen.They feasted on freshers who drif away from their pack.All of a sudden I could visualise the scenes often repeated on Nat Geo,the ones in which wild dogs hunt in pack,suddenly serengetti didnt feel that far .I decided to take a chance with seniors.what if they have an important lecture to attend or are simply not in the mood for a fun session .I turned back to leave where at a distance I saw a lowly figure standing and watching me.He looked familiar , I had spoken to hime recently.Holy cow he was the warden and I had spoken to him in morning about quality or the lack of it ,of food in mess.He walked up to me and inquired about the issue."Got late in the mess sir" I replied honestly ."Whose class is it ?"came another question. "Tata....." came the instant reply followed by long pause trying to remember the real name of Tata Patna "err..Chemistry class sir.." I replied ."And where were you going ?" bang another volley, he could have been a ace interogator. "I'm not feeling good sir,must be something I ate " I said with a convincingly feeble voice holding my tummy. "Tata Patna does that to lot of guys "said the warden with a grin."Get your ass inside the class and dont you dare run away " came next dictat ,smirk wiping out the grin.
So I turned back again to take my ass right back to where it should have been fifteen minutes back.I stood at the door,there inside the class he stood with his back towards me shouting at peak of his voice "You guys do not know what is science and you have come here to become an Engineer".Talk about perfect timing. "Can I come in Sir" I said with the feeblest of voices and after taking a long breath.There was a silence as all heads turned towards me,his wa the last one.He turned slowly towards me.He was an old man with medium height in late fifties with almost bald head but for a few remanats of silver.He wore a brown blazer and a sweater over his shirt.His face had more wrinkles and scruples than railway line on India's map.He wore thick soda glass lens.You could have made a crate full of soda bottles out of them.I stood there in silence ,waiting for him to lash out at me.Whole class waited in anticipation too .I would be a butt of jokes for days to come."What have I done !! no more extra parathas ".
"You have paid fees in this college and you have all the right to enter the class without my permission" he said reiterating each and every word with slight pauses so that it is fully understood by those inside the class and the entire world outside and he did well. Message taken but I couldnt move my feet,I was waiting for his expletives but they never came . As I glanced towards the class the guys at the last bench were gestering me to come in.The first benchers as usual went back to scribbling each and every word coming out of TP's mouth.As I walked in slowly I heard a voice "I hate to be interrupted so please bear in mind" I knew the message was directed at entire class.I saw some guys even scribbling it down.May be it was his off day,may be his wife had prepared his favourite breakfast or may be he had lost a bit of steam with age.I couldn't believe the let off I just had.God did listen to prayers at quarter past nine.I walked past all the rows till I could walk no further,there at a corner I took my seat at the last row quietly trying to be invisible.I had survived the legend of Tata Patna without much damage .The demon had been exorcised.


~GOA

Tribute to Smoking

RIT taught us many things in 4 years span and one of them is smoking. I think many of us tasted "Sutta" for the first time in RIT. Some tried once and never tasted it again. But some tried.. then quit and then tried to quit. Sutta brought many unknown faces together in 1st year and they remain together for rest of college life at least for sole purpose of “ek kash”.
I remember some people even preserved butts of burnt sutta for later use (mostly at month end when our SBI account balance were nearing BIG ZERO).
I found a very interesting “Tribute to Smoking” blog on a site and thought of sharing with you all.
Here it is …


With A cigarette in my hand I felt like a man-Few years back listening and watching this snippet from social ad campaign would have certainly discouraged every smoker in India but unfortunately nothing much happened except few of those who somehow managed to quit smoking, and for others like us, we took it as a song dedicated to the manhood of every Indian. Fortunately womanhood too had an up rise with little alteration to the words of this song. This little white stick has had many “avatars” in India. Call it a “Bidi” or “Chiroot” or “Chillum”, or our legendary “Hookah” every form has not only been appreciated but comfortably adjusted in our daily customs and rituals from ages. If “Chillum” was a ticket to wisdom in Hippy era., “bidi” is symbol of rural folks Hookah being related to ruling class of India and then came our very own “cigarette” which broke all class barriers. Every one suddenly graduated to cigarettes from bidi’s but chillum and Hookah survived and is occasionally offered in Lounge bars to signify “bonding to the roots” ideology of Gen Ex in India. Study of history of cigarettes in India is inseparable from the history of cigarettes in totality. No one knows when they were born or to be precise “made” but historians believe cigarettes were born out of cigar buts “butted” by “gentlemen” in Europe and their generosity gave birth to revolutions and rebellions in the past. The very birth of cigarette is testimony to breaking the class barrier, what was discarded was adapted by those who couldn’t afford the “real thing”. In India cigarettes never existed instead there were Hukka’s and chillums and most celebrated bidi’s. No one knows when we Indians learnt this exquisite art of rolling Virginia in tendu leaves but sure this was exemplary and today bidi’s with different flavours and names can be found all around Europe and US of A. Though we Indians still cherish our old brand “Ganesh Chhap” ( and guess there is a huge Hue and Cry over Ganesh Brand Beer in US of A by NRI’s a classic case of selective amnesia). Every Indian sometimes or the other in life graduates from a bidi to cigarette and if unfortunately he doesn’t, either he is the most downtrodden and suppressed or he is our own bollywood Actor Jackie Shroff. And for those who graduate to cigarettes we have different brands to chose from, courtesy ITC Ltd and Godfrey Phillips Ltd. Brand names of cigarettes have a lot to do with Indian psyche. A 555 B&H in your pocket has more appeal than a Charminar or Panama. In fact it is more of the outer casing that matters rather than the sticks, only if you chose not to offer a single stick to those around you. Brand names are synonym to the regions of India if north goes for Capstan, south India appreciates Charminar or Bristol. Then come different forms of Cigarettes. Self rolled, Filter Less, with filter, navy cut, king size, lights, regulars and even mints and cardamoms and what nots. For those who believe cigarettes are not their kind they have varied choices of Cigars, king Edwards, Prince, Havana Etc but again these are less common because they symbolise a certain age group apart from the class and incomes. It hurts every smoker in Delhi univ. when someone talks or takes out a demonstration against smoking within the campus. Cigarette has been great healer and bonder especially for those living in hostel barracks. It’s easy to recall how a single stick passes lips like Merlin Monroe kissing with her skirt on fire. All sense of caste and creed blow up in the smoke and socialism thrives. Many a time’s cigarettes have resolved mess bill and room change issues late nights in hostels. Cigarettes with a bottle of vodka and boiled eggs have been celebrated on every farewell part in chilling days of January winters in Delhi. Imagine how easy it is to knock on a fresher door to ask for a match stick knowing he doesn’t smoke and how he is welcomed to the cartel with the first puff he takes. Not only the class and caste barriers are lost even the age barrier is shattered. Delhi University sits down at “pundit ji’s” dhaba opposite KMC main gate and behind Hindu over a cup of tea and navy cut. And how many theories have been born for development of India next to D-school and FMS. How can someone even think of closing down Chai wallah within D-school offering 4 Squares to would be Amartya Sen’s and Manmohan Singhs ( and hay Sardars smoke too…I can bet on that). Cigarettes are not only great unifying force but tobacco has saved world on great occasions, and if you happen to ask me how? Remember Winston Churchill with a cigar in WWII… or Present Day Fidel Castro or Sherlock Holmes with a pipe or our very own Rajani Kant blowing up the whole godown with a single bidi ?... imagine what if these people weren’t smokers…won’t the world be lot unsafe than ever… and if that’s not enough remember George Bush when he decide to “smoke” Osama out of his caves… well no one knows what smoking this intellect of universe was talking about but I am sure Osama is still “smoking it out” in his hide outs. Some people believe smoking helps them concentrate and stay awake late nights and make India hop and run on the road to prosperity. Though it has been time and again proved that apples keep you awake more than a cup of coffee or a pack full of cigarettes but then it seems there is lot flesh to it…how else can you stay awake if it were not coughing and spitting blood late nights. In a country like India where condom use is still scarce as an ass’s horns there seems no other feasible family planning method other than smoking… it not only plans your family without a smoker but also makes sure the smoking couple is “smoked out” of the world sooner than later (still wonder why sanjai Gandhi took up compulsory vasectomy and tubectomy in emergency days?) besides providing much needed revenues to counter the huge budgetary deficit. Cigarettes are a symbol of Freedom and Independence to Gen Ex and especially to females who had always been taken in for feeble sex. Though a woman visiting Vishno devi and wearing vermillion in her hair partings with a mangalsootra round her neck very well defies the notion of freedom from cliché’s and chauvinism. India has always been liberal when it comes to smoking in women. Rural woman have always been smoking bidi’s and though they are looked down upon as behenjis or mata ji’s but metropolitan females are same with a little variation… no leaves but a paper. (And guess what… we call them educated and modern woman) this is in spite of the fact that it has been proved to be more harmful to the fairer sex ( hay it smells bad when you kiss a girl who had a bidi or fag stick…doesn’t it?). But then again… who cares.. One can give life to be free isn’t it? So much said and written the bottom line still remains and proved beyond doubt, for us Indians smoking is in our blood. We have lived through the ages listening to songs like “dum maro dum” and “main zindagi ka saath” besides “smoke on the water” and “the wall”. Not only us but even the “white skins” have been born with this peculiar trait in their characters. At least there is somewhere we can match their wits, we have time and again outnumbered and outshined them when it comes to finding new ways and methods to smoke and make this habit acceptable not only to the society but also make it a part of our religions whether that’s through “bam bam bhole” chants or “salaam wale qums”. And to end it all, none of us is to blame for once Marilyn Mansion sung this song which went “I don’t like the drugs but the drugs like me”…and sure the fag stick loves and adores us.

~Saurabh