Well, Ramjas in mid-sixties was a bit formal as well as forbidding! May be the fault lay with me as I inhaled the first fumes of famed English Literature after sprouting straight out of a school’s Science labs with physical balances encased in glass-houses and beakers emitting torrid acid smells. Having failed to meet the rigors of science, I accepted the sage advice to try my luck with literature. Admission to a college like Ramjas in the heart of North Campus, now a feat in itself, was not as formidable then. We were a class of eleven, six boys and five girls who sat straight in segregated rows and stared at the ‘know-all’ faculty unflinchingly.
Most would remember Dr. Devendra Kohli with his golden spectacles & the elderly, elegant Mr. Chopra, who explained in his silvery voice Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’. You couldn’t but be attentive since teachers knew all of you by name! While hearing how Satan fell from heavenly heights, you could find your name squeezed in, once your sight strayed, regardless of whether you had colluded with the devil or not. There was the fatherly figure of Mr. Mathew whose gentlemanly demeanour would disarm even the most rebellious. I recollect vaguely how the boys sat impatiently to see how he explained the lines in a Spencer’s sonnet comparing parts of a woman’s body with flowers. But he neatly skipped the lines leaving them flummoxed. Ramjasians of that era also remember with nostalgia Mr. Vinod Sahai clad in his crisp cotton and uttering crispier one-liners before he exchanged places with Dr. A. Jha of Patna. The handsome Mr. Gondal (we wondered if he owned the Gondal’s Press in CP’s inner circle!) & Mr. Prashant Sinha, a tiff with whom earned me my first and only suspension in life. That’s not counting the additional fine of Rs. Fifty-you could ride to college on DTC for four months with that princely sum.
‘The English Seminar’ could boast of inaugurations by the likes of Nirad Chowdhary. He was actually brought from his ancient abode in Mori Gate to point out how few Punjabis could name the five rivers flowing though the State. The valedictory function was addressed by Prof. Swarup Singh (Photo attached) who rose to become the VC later. ‘Anand Parvat’, the college magazine was much sought by those blessed with creativity and maintained excellence except when it gave space to my contribution in its Hindi section. Govind Vyas, a contemporary, often regaled the students with his hasya-ras. I also recollect vividly the college auditorium resounding with rock music as many bands converged and drew enthusiasts from across the North Campus while courting couples cooed on its periphery.
Ramjas had a closed-shelf library in those days. You had to tell the man at the counter which book you were looking for. Things, however, changed before we left its portals out & you were allowed to look at the spines of books including volumes of ‘Shakespeare Survey’ lined in a row. There was a section upstairs for the ‘seriously inclined’-the wooden partition in the middle enabled the couples to whisper sweet nothings till they were silenced by others. Girls’ Common Room was securely located next to Principal’s Office-both guarded by a Gurkha Bahadur. The corridors were cleared by the principal, Dr. P.D.Gupta himself, with burly seniors running ahead and announcing the arrival of ‘Committee’. The Canteen was more welcoming with its countless teas, bread-pakoras, gossip & cigarette fumes. I willingly picked up the stick & the habit, which took 28 years to kick!
Once Ramjas shut its gate for the day, there was a Panditji across the Gate selling pan & fags and a Chacha’s khokha at Maurice Nagar’s Chowk with its steaming hot bun-omelettes & garam chai before you headed home.
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