'Aesay mae thori si ankhein bhar ana...'
Fatima Akbar Shah
5-10-2013
They say places grow over you. I could never comprehend this clichéd clause until last night when it jeered across my head and heart while the vice chancellor gave his farewell speech:
“This is the evening which is going to be none other……wherever you go drop a line to us…..you will always be our part. Thank you for being us”
Did it really end? Why so early. It was just now that I had developed an intimacy with this place.
“They say places grow over you”. It has rubbed onto me.
Suits, cameras, macho poses and clicks. With puffs, bangs and spikes there were even those whose seldom visits to the lectures would arouse the suspicion of being outsiders.What were they all feeling: happy, sad or…
‘Throat choking fear of sir Akram.
Mam Attiya, ‘first year or second year mae no baat. Third year, khulli chutti. (bechari mam)
‘Any intelligent in the class’
Turkish rock and roll.
‘***** kay bacho you will see the consequences in the prof’
‘one twenty, one twenty onehhh, thooo, threeeh,a guy ‘phresnthh’. Claps! (that was the first lesson that clapping could do a magic at KE)
Sarrhis, maxies and hair dos, cameras and clicks. Hugs and kisses. (Why so formal?) It was the courtly, coveted and always awaited annual dinner (ever since first year we would see bajis at final year annual dinner as dukesses attending a magnificent ball).That evening my eyes would take a while to recognize those beauties who stayed camouflaged under coats and covers over the time.
‘Oye khotya uthay nae ithay waikh’
Qiamet-e-sukhra
‘I can see through the eyes of my heart’
‘tm nay to socha tha meri patango ki dukan hoti’
Ball thrown. Batsman makes a hit. ‘Result lag gaya’. Rushing to the notice board.
Angels and Demons.
Janday janday cha pani denday jao.
CR and GR were knocking their heads in and out of the hall. There was indeed a red carpet welcome for all the professors. Paradoxical that attending their lectures was taken as the most godforsaken damnation but when departing all are dear, worth remembering and worth a photo with.
‘Speed do bhai speed do. Larkiyon ki bus sae agay’
‘Uncle aik minute and darwaza band right before you nose’
Inspector Poppa
Halloween
Bahhoot aalaa
A silver haired, energetic man dashed in and was densely thronged by the boys. It was the legendary and aura-of-mystery-around vice chancellor. Girls were fretting over not getting a chance of photo clicking with him- that his highness walked into the girls half, halted at each table, ‘Welcome ladies. It is a pleasure to see you. Lovely, you all’. It was the gesture of the millennium, amiability personified and etiquettes of formality standardized. It left ladies bumping hands over wide open mouths!
‘aray bacho abhi to btaya tha, just abhi mainay btaya…..koi nae sun raha tha’
Youth Revolution
Thakk Thakk. ‘ko'on’.’Tmharay abbay ki class hae’
‘You bought four apples from the market. Three are rotten. Now would you go back to the rehri wala?’
'Sir, bassssss. bassss'
Dairy milk treats.
Though, class events were presumed to be a rare entity of batch ’13 but a specific group of guys would always step ahead to add a tinge of festivity. I would once curse myself for not being able to remember the names of all the class fellows over half a decade- three hundred is a number quite huge to be borne by my decaying neurons. It was KE where kings of brains live. Zeeshan headed the rostrum and whipped crem’e de nam’e of the girls……….Sheeren or masooma kalsooma jazbat…KE ki feeza ko bam-e-aooj peh pahnchaya…tayyeba khawahishat ko sidra tu muntaha tak pahnchaya…… (Indirectly it was a sheer offer to all the class mates to consult Zeeshan for naming their sons and daughters in the near future).
'Inni khang. Banda puchay tussi dacter hegay kai TB dye mareez'
Dr. Goraya........Shahi fort visits, food street dinners.
'Mae azad ho kar kam karna chahta hun. Yeh mike lga kar aeasy lagta hae jesay kuttay kae galay mae sangli bandi ho'
'Jawani to bacho phir dewani hoti hae'
'Ap jahan kahin chalaen jaen in dino ki yadain hamesha ap kae sath rahain gi'
'O Alma mater you really matter'
The end was drawing near. I reflected at how a girl and guy talking would generate a scandal, I reflected at how petty matters would end up as facebook battles and I thought of the events planned and cancelled at the last moment. I remembered how we all resented over the class not showing unity and unanimity. Never mind! It was callowness of youth. For those whose sole aim is to get into and get through KE, a longer time and experience is required to break into a healthy social life. This time the turnout was two third of the class. It showed their boiling emotions and gloom of segregation. One last evening together and all would whirl away with the wind-smiles, jokes, pranks and misty eyes of this evening left echoing through the domes of KE.
The lyrics at the end of a sentiments stirring presentation shot a pang of woe running down my spine,
‘Kaash hum juda na hotay……..’
Has it ended?
No more a student?
Never to sit on stairs?
No more proxies, tests, lecture puns, ward classes….
No KEMCOL, KEDS and KELS….
Once in second year while chatting with a friend she said, ‘at the completion of five years would we be as blissful as today a doctor was after completing his four years course of Ph.D’
Tip.Tip. Wanted a tissue. Looked around. All fingers to the eyes.
Smiles!
“This is the evening which is going to be none other……wherever you go drop a line to us…..you will always be our part. Thank you for being us”
Did it really end? Why so early. It was just now that I had developed an intimacy with this place.
“They say places grow over you”. It has rubbed onto me.
Suits, cameras, macho poses and clicks. With puffs, bangs and spikes there were even those whose seldom visits to the lectures would arouse the suspicion of being outsiders.What were they all feeling: happy, sad or…
‘Throat choking fear of sir Akram.
Mam Attiya, ‘first year or second year mae no baat. Third year, khulli chutti. (bechari mam)
‘Any intelligent in the class’
Turkish rock and roll.
‘***** kay bacho you will see the consequences in the prof’
‘one twenty, one twenty onehhh, thooo, threeeh,a guy ‘phresnthh’. Claps! (that was the first lesson that clapping could do a magic at KE)
Sarrhis, maxies and hair dos, cameras and clicks. Hugs and kisses. (Why so formal?) It was the courtly, coveted and always awaited annual dinner (ever since first year we would see bajis at final year annual dinner as dukesses attending a magnificent ball).That evening my eyes would take a while to recognize those beauties who stayed camouflaged under coats and covers over the time.
‘Oye khotya uthay nae ithay waikh’
Qiamet-e-sukhra
‘I can see through the eyes of my heart’
‘tm nay to socha tha meri patango ki dukan hoti’
Ball thrown. Batsman makes a hit. ‘Result lag gaya’. Rushing to the notice board.
Angels and Demons.
Janday janday cha pani denday jao.
CR and GR were knocking their heads in and out of the hall. There was indeed a red carpet welcome for all the professors. Paradoxical that attending their lectures was taken as the most godforsaken damnation but when departing all are dear, worth remembering and worth a photo with.
‘Speed do bhai speed do. Larkiyon ki bus sae agay’
‘Uncle aik minute and darwaza band right before you nose’
Inspector Poppa
Halloween
Bahhoot aalaa
A silver haired, energetic man dashed in and was densely thronged by the boys. It was the legendary and aura-of-mystery-around vice chancellor. Girls were fretting over not getting a chance of photo clicking with him- that his highness walked into the girls half, halted at each table, ‘Welcome ladies. It is a pleasure to see you. Lovely, you all’. It was the gesture of the millennium, amiability personified and etiquettes of formality standardized. It left ladies bumping hands over wide open mouths!
‘aray bacho abhi to btaya tha, just abhi mainay btaya…..koi nae sun raha tha’
Youth Revolution
Thakk Thakk. ‘ko'on’.’Tmharay abbay ki class hae’
‘You bought four apples from the market. Three are rotten. Now would you go back to the rehri wala?’
'Sir, bassssss. bassss'
Dairy milk treats.
Though, class events were presumed to be a rare entity of batch ’13 but a specific group of guys would always step ahead to add a tinge of festivity. I would once curse myself for not being able to remember the names of all the class fellows over half a decade- three hundred is a number quite huge to be borne by my decaying neurons. It was KE where kings of brains live. Zeeshan headed the rostrum and whipped crem’e de nam’e of the girls……….Sheeren or masooma kalsooma jazbat…KE ki feeza ko bam-e-aooj peh pahnchaya…tayyeba khawahishat ko sidra tu muntaha tak pahnchaya…… (Indirectly it was a sheer offer to all the class mates to consult Zeeshan for naming their sons and daughters in the near future).
'Inni khang. Banda puchay tussi dacter hegay kai TB dye mareez'
Dr. Goraya........Shahi fort visits, food street dinners.
'Mae azad ho kar kam karna chahta hun. Yeh mike lga kar aeasy lagta hae jesay kuttay kae galay mae sangli bandi ho'
'Jawani to bacho phir dewani hoti hae'
'Ap jahan kahin chalaen jaen in dino ki yadain hamesha ap kae sath rahain gi'
'O Alma mater you really matter'
The end was drawing near. I reflected at how a girl and guy talking would generate a scandal, I reflected at how petty matters would end up as facebook battles and I thought of the events planned and cancelled at the last moment. I remembered how we all resented over the class not showing unity and unanimity. Never mind! It was callowness of youth. For those whose sole aim is to get into and get through KE, a longer time and experience is required to break into a healthy social life. This time the turnout was two third of the class. It showed their boiling emotions and gloom of segregation. One last evening together and all would whirl away with the wind-smiles, jokes, pranks and misty eyes of this evening left echoing through the domes of KE.
The lyrics at the end of a sentiments stirring presentation shot a pang of woe running down my spine,
‘Kaash hum juda na hotay……..’
Has it ended?
No more a student?
Never to sit on stairs?
No more proxies, tests, lecture puns, ward classes….
No KEMCOL, KEDS and KELS….
Once in second year while chatting with a friend she said, ‘at the completion of five years would we be as blissful as today a doctor was after completing his four years course of Ph.D’
Tip.Tip. Wanted a tissue. Looked around. All fingers to the eyes.
Smiles!
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