Musings of a Delhi Boy

Just as happens in the life of an individual, there are events and incidents in the history of nation states and societies which are and which should never be forgotten. They keep on raising their ugly head, from the depths of a graveyard, like a gruesome sepulchre, to remind us that what happened once should never be allowed to happen again.

But while there are lessons to be learnt from these sad incidents for the country and society as a whole, for an individual there is mostly an underlying odour of burnt desire and aspirations which linger long after the incidents are over and done with.

The recent statement by Dr. Manmohan Singh about the 1984 anti-Sikh pogrom in Delhi has reignited a storm over the horrendous events of biblical proportions which gripped the nation and inflicted indescribable misery and hardship on countless innocent citizens. Over the years reams have been written about the events that shook Dilli like never before, but sadly, in all this hullabaloo, stories of individual aspirations, desire and hope, have mostly been overlooked and overshadowed. But these sagas need to be told, whenever they can be.

As a young boy I nurtured a career goal for myself-to study engineering from the prestigious Delhi College of Engineering or DCE, then situated in a decrepit building in Kashmere Gate. In retrospect, it was not due to any love for engineering but a fascination which had set its place in my heart as I admired and hero worshipped my elder sibling and his colleagues as they earned their spurs in this elite institution. Although I reckoned that my academic level might not get me a place in the haloed portals of DCE , it did not look entirely impossible either. Admissions were based on marks scored in the all important PCM- acronym for Physics, Chemistry and Maths in class 12 -which were the board exams – and in a way represented the most difficult phase of any school going kids life. Despite having an overriding penchant for the social sciences, specially History and English, and having scored exceedingly well in these subjects in my class 10 th board, I chose PCM for class 12 th, to pursue my dream of a seat in DCE.

While I was quite good in Chemistry, Physics and Maths were the subjects where I needed to pull up my socks. Nonetheless, I was cruising along quite well till the half yearly exams, which were conducted in September. My teachers also expected me to give a good performance at the holy grail of Indian education system.

But then, on 31 st October of 1984 the nightmare imploded in my face. My studies went for a six. For five days my family had to seek refuge in the safe sanctuary of benevolent neighbors , after which we were rescued and had to stay in my uncle’s house for another ten days before we could return to our own house, which, by the grace of God had escaped the rioters’ wrath.

When I rejoined school, after about three weeks, my hair shorn, I realized that the physical transformation was the least of my troubles. While most of my friends and teachers were elated to see me safe and sound, and even commiserated at what I had gone through, expectedly there were some who passed snide and nasty remarks. But worst was the state of my studies.

With barely three months left for the boards, I was a nervous wreck. I used to get nightmares at night, sweating profusely. All the love and counseling of my parents, neighbours and friends failed to resuscitate my fast depleting confidence. The imaginary war-cry of approaching rioters would pierce my ears, driving me crazy. It became difficult for me to commute by the school bus , although it travelled by the usual pre-riot route, as a I imagined rampaging mobs burning whatever came their way- people and materials . I could hardly focus on my books for a few minutes at home. The attention span was a tad better in school. The notorious December Dilli cold gave me sweats, as I could sense my dream of a lifetime slowly slip from my fingertips.

Of particular concern was Maths, where my already tenuous grip seemed to be weakening further. In a desperate attempt to stem the rot, for the first time ever, my parents arranged extra classes for me at home, sometime towards the end of December. Although I continued to suffer bouts of acute fear and anxiety at what I had undergone and seen all around me only a few weeks ago, my levels of concentration were bolstered to a certain extent and at the time of the last pre-board exams in January , I had gained sufficient ground , to an extent that there was still a flicker of hope, which might have kept my childhood aspiration alive.

As usual, the board exams commenced in the 1 st week of March, at the onset of spring, after the brutal winter is over. I am a student who is quite adept at estimating his performance after the exams are over and am able to predict my marks to a great degree of accuracy. So, by the time the PCM was over, the declaration of actual results by the board remained a formality as far as I was concerned. I knew that I had missed the bus, albeit not by a large margin, and my aspiration, which just a few months ago had looked within my reach, was now only a mirage.

Nevertheless, I had performed sufficiently well to get admission in some other engineering colleges, but by then my fascination had worn thin and I settled to pursue graduation in Physics from one of India’s supposedly best, but most overhyped college. This, in hindsight, was another fatal mistake, as more than three decades after graduation I have not utilized anything I learnt in college. So much for me and our education system.

A lot had happened since then, I have achieved several beautiful personal goals and maybe a few professional ones too, but I still wonder what would have happened had destiny not intervened so brutally to put spokes in my aspiration…..this is something which will forever remain condemned in the realm of speculation…..