A bit lengthy but too good ...

Grandmother was pretending to be lost in prayer, but her prayer-beads were spinning at top speed. That meant she was either excited or upset. Mother put the receiver down. "Some American girl in his office, she's coming to stay with us for a week." She sounded as if she had a deep foreboding. Father had no such doubt. He knew the worst was to come. He had been matching horoscopes for a year, but my brother Vivek had found a million excuses for not being able to visit India, call any of the chosen Iyer girls, or in any other way advance father's cause. Father always wore four parallel lines of sacred ash on his forehead. Now therewere eight, so deep were the furrows of worry on his forehead. I sat in a corner, supposedly lost in a book, but furiously text-messaging my brother with a vivid description of the scene before me.

A few days later I stood outside the airport with father. He tried not to look directly at any American woman going past, and held up the card reading "Barbara". Finally a large woman stepped out, waved wildly and shouted "Hiiii! Mr. Aayyyezh, how ARE you?" Everyone turned and looked at us. Father shrank visibly before my eyes. Barbara took three long steps and covered father in a tight embrace. Father's jiggling out of it was too funny to watch. I could hear him whispering "Shiva shiva!". She shouted "you must be Vijaantee?" "Yes, Vyjayanthi" I said with a smile. I imagined little half-Indian children calling me "Vijaantee aunty!". Suddenly, my colorless existence in Madurai had perked up. For at least the next one week, life promised to be quite exciting.

Soon we were eating lunch at home. Barbara had changed into an even shorter skirt. The low neckline of her blouse was just in line with father's eyes. He was glaring at mother as if she had conjured up Barbara just to torture him. Barbara was asking "You only have vegetarian food? Always??" as if the idea was shocking to her. "You know what really goes well with Indian food, especially chicken? Indian beer!" she said with a pleasant smile, seemingly oblivious to the apoplexy of the gentleman in front of her, or the choking sounds coming from mother. I had to quickly duck under the table to hide my giggles.

Everyone tried to get the facts without asking the one question on all our minds: What was the exact nature of the relationship between Vivek and Barbara? She brought out a laptop computer. "I have some pictures of Vivek" she said. All of us crowded around her. The first picture was quite innocuous. Vivek was wearing shorts, and standing alone on the beach. In the next photo, he had Barbara draped all over him. She was wearing a skimpy bikini and leaning across, with her hand lovingly circling his neck. Father got up, and flicked the towel off his shoulder. It was a gesture we in the family had learned to fear. He literally ran to the door and went out. Barbara said "It must be hard for Mr. Aayyezh. He must be missing his son." We didn't have the heart to tell her that if said son had been within reach, father would have lovingly wrung his neck.

My parents and grandmother apparently had reached an unspoken agreement. They would deal with Vivek later. Right now Barbara was a foreigner, a lone woman, and needed to be treated as an honored guest. It must be said that Barbara didn't make that one bit easy. Soon mother wore a perpetual frown. Father looked as though he could use some of that famous Indian beer.

Vivek had said he would be in a conference in Guatemala all week, and would be off both phone and email. But Barbara had long lovey-dovey conversations with two other men, one man named Steve and another named Keith. The rest of us strained to hear every interesting word. "I miss you!" she said to both. She also kept talking with us about Vivek, and about the places they'd visited together. She had pictures to prove it, too. It was all very confusing.

This was the best play I'd watched in a long time. It was even better than the day my cousin ran away with a Telugu Christian girl. My aunt had come howling through the door, though I noticed that she made it to the plushest sofa before falling in a faint. Father said that if it had been his child, the door would have been forever shut in his face. Aunt promptly revived and said "You'll know when it is your child!" How my aunt would rejoice if she knew of Barbara!

On day five of her visit, the family awoke to the awful sound of Barbara's retching. The bathroom door was shut, the water was running, but far louder was the sound of Barbara crying and throwing up at the same time. Mother and grandmother exchanged ominous glances. Barbara came out, and her face was red. "I don't know why", she said, "I feel queasy in the mornings now." If she had seen as many Indian movies as I'd seen, she'd know why. Mother was standing as if turned to stone. Was she supposed to react with the compassion reserved for pregnant women? With the criticism reserved for pregnant unmarried women? With the fear reserved for pregnant unmarried foreign women who could embroil one's son in a paternity suit? Mother, who navigated familiar flows of married life with the skill of a champion oarsman, now seemed completely taken off her moorings. She seemed to hope that if she didn't react it might all disappear like a bad dream.

I made a mental note to not leave home at all for the next week. Whatever my parents would say to Vivek when they finally got a-hold of him would be too interesting to miss. But they never got a chance. The day Barbara was to leave, we got a terse email from Vivek. "Sorry, still stuck in Guatemala. Just wanted to mention, another friend of mine, Sameera Sheikh, needs a place to stay. She'll fly in from Hyderabad tomorrow at 10am. Sorry for the trouble."

So there we were, father and I, with a board saying "Sameera". At last a pretty young woman in salwar-khameez saw the board, gave the smallest of smiles, and walked quietly towards us. When she did 'Namaste' to father, I thought I saw his eyes mist up. She took my hand in the friendliest way and said "Hello, Vyjayanthi, I've heard so much about you." I fell in love with her. In the car father was unusually friendly. She and Vivek had been in the same group of friends in Ohio University. She now worked as a Child Psychologist.

She didn't seem to be too bad at family psychology either. She took out a shawl for grandmother, a saree for mother and Hyderabadi bangles for me. "Just some small things. I have to meet a professor at Madurai university, and it's so nice of you to let me stay" she said. Everyone cheered up. Even grandmother smiled. At lunch she said "This is so nice. When I make sambar, it comes out like chole, and my chole tastes just like sambar". Mother was smiling. "Oh just watch for 2 days, you'll pick it up." Grandmother had never allowed a muslim to enter the kitchen. But mother seemed to have taken charge, and decided she would bring in who ever she felt was worthy. Sameera circumspectly stayed out of the puja room, but on the third day, I was stunned to see father inviting her in and telling her which idols had come to him from his father. "God is one" he said. Sameera nodded sagely.

By the fifth day, I could see the thought forming in the family's collective brains. If this fellow had to choose his own bride, why couldn't it be someone like Sameera? On the sixth day, when Vivek called from the airport saying he had cut short his Gautemala trip and was on his way home, all had a million things to discuss with him. He arrived by taxi at a time when Sameera had gone to the University. "So, how was Barbara's visit?" he asked blithely. "How do you know her?" mother asked sternly. "She's my secretary" he said. "She works very hard, and she'll do anything to help." He turned and winked at me. Oh, I got the plot now! By the time Sameera returned home that evening, it was almost as if her joining the family was the elders' idea. "Don't worry about anything", they said, "we'll talk with your parents."

On the wedding day a huge bouquet arrived from Barbara.

"Flight to India - $1500.

Indian kurta - $5.

Emetic to throw up - $1.

The look on your parents' faces - priceless" it said.

It will hurt like hell

As I lay down on my bed last night, I was recounting the moments I had during the fest this year. All of a sudden, there was a jerk in my thoughts …. It was my last fest. It’s not that I didn’t know but I suddenly got conscious. The last day of these four years in IIIT Hyd is close, very close. I have been in a similar situation earlier too while leaving my school after class VIII. It was a residential school far from cities, deep inside the nature, in Samastipur district of my home state. We had spent a few long years together there. Every single day we cursed the hostels, the food, the exams and above all the strict rules and the agony of being confined to the same old campus. We felt like prisoners at times. Often we wished we could get out of that damned place. I remember even just two days before the final day; we were celebrating the end, our forthcoming freedom. In the evening before the day, there was a short meeting of all the students and our warden. At the end of the meeting, everything changed. I heard people weeping. It soon changed into a session of mass hysteria. Some were crying like lunatics. The much awaited last day, the day of celebration got transformed into a day of shedding tears as people started leaving. It was not really feeling sorry for losing close friends. It was different. I walked around the campus, hugged and cried with people I hardly had ever talked to. The final hours in the campus got us closer than what we were in the last few years.

The scenario in IIIT is not much different. Here also we often get frustrated with the place. The absence of city-life, the scarcity of girls, 8:30 classes in winter, awful mess, the worst attendence policy, the howling of the profs specially the guide …. The list can go on and on. But no matter what, we definitely love this place. I don’t know how people will react on the final day. I don’t know whether 23-year-olds will cry like 14-year-olds did. But I can guarantee you something ….. It will hurt ….. It will hurt like hell.

The Neem Sapling Planting

Before the farewell, we planted a neem sapling, adjacent to the volleyball court in the ground. Though it was just a neem sapling, a feeling of "us" has been attached to it so emotionally, that I felt like I am leaving behind something very very important in the form of this tree.


As if the young tree was speaking to me ...at the end of a goodbye walk your arms may be empty, but you are full of things to take with you - feelings and sights tucked deep inside you, memories to keep ...and lots more. And I'll always be here whenever you'll come to see this place later to make you remember these beautiful times ...Promise me that you'll come to see me soon ...won't you ?


Standing there, I was like talking to myself ...I promised from the bottom of my heart !! I'll come to see you little sapling ...I'll come for sure.


And I moved towards the farewell ceremony ponderously...

The Hilarious Farewell Speech

By Imran on 30th march ...

I first saw IIIT when I was in school and I just knew that I have to be here. It was a dream come true for me. I not only got into IIIT but also in one of the best batches ever. I couldn’t have asked for more.

Now, talk about coming to the right place at the right time!! Things were really HAPPENING in IIIT. And of course, we were there to witness the institute grow. First came the DEEMED UNIVERSITY status, our own version of “Independence Day”, independence to be autonomous. And WE were there.

It was our batch that actually “COMPLETED IIIT”. For the very first time, IIIT had all the four years of its BTech program and we became the only batch ever to actually KNOW all of it’s alumni that passed before us.

We were the ones who saw IIIT grow, not only IIIT as a matter of fact, but also the surrounding places like all the S/W companies coming up in our vicinity, ISB and we also saw the building of the now, “Land mark of Hyderabad” the GMC Balayogi Stadium. But you should know that we know these places from the time when their address read “Besides IIIT” and not vice-versa.

Our batch was also the trendsetters in its own rights. It was actually from our time that IIIT saw all its cultural festivals in the form of Amalgam and of course FELICITY. And who can forget the first ever inter house sports competitions.

We can also boast of being the only “Truly Nomadic” society of IIIT. For two years, we were always on a run. Running from this hostel to other, from one room to other. That was the time when we never unpacked our luggage for, we knew that we wont stay long in one room and change was on cards every moment. The newly built 3rd floor of OBH as well as the newly constructed NBH were actually “gdit2k1 hostels”. Also we know the problems ,All those “TEAM BUILDING” exercises truly bonded us together as one entity.

We can also boast of having the best talent in IIIT, be it in programming, sports or music and who can forget the best dancer of our batch (look at patke)….

As SPIDERMAN once said “ With great powers, comes great responsibilities”. Our batch is also responsible for some of the major policies in the institute. Because of our perseverance and hardwork, IIIT is the only institute throughout India with “ZERO RAGGING”. We welcome our juniours with open arms. Maybe, the institute’s policy of taking freshers in huge quantities might have helped the cause here ;)…

Well speaking of institutes’ policies, let me tell you what happened in our first holi, which was quite an “indoor event” at that time. We thought that the colours of hostels were a bit too drab But I don’t know why but the faculty didn’t like our new paint job. And we ended up celebrating holi, for the first time in IIIT, for 2 days… first for colouring and then cleaning. And hence forth, holi became as you know of today a strictly “an outdoor affair”…

Of course we were the bonds of all the “state of art” technology. But we also believed in DIVERSITY. We took upon ourselves the challenge of building the IIIT’s formidable gaming industry. We just have to go to the other colleges to just collect the prizes they offer and in the mean while taking a shot or two at the sitting ducks they try to pass off as our competitors J.

You might be thinking that we know just about everything there is to know about IIIT from my speech so far, but you just mistaken!! We are still trying to figure out the “AC effect” in our labs. The moment the lab “cools” we are in some other “hot” destination in some corner.

But now, it is really sad and difficult to comprehend that our 4 years have come to an end. From now on, all our classmates will sport a small subscript under their names which will read “B. Tech. CSE, IIIT-H”………

Let me remind you, once again that we were those people who joined IIIT not because of its now reputed “B. Tech” degree or the 100% placement record. There was nothing at the time when we joined, not even this AIEEE. We joined this college because we were passionate about this place and like myself, for many people it was a dream come true. In part, we can boast of being a part of IIIT in it’s growing phase, and have contributed our share in it’s growth. I will always remember this clean and green 62 acres of land for the rest of my life……

And now, my dear juniors. I know that you all are about to cry at your great loss which I might add is quite understandable. But for being - what I can now conclude safely from my lengthy speech – a LEGENDARY batch, we still think about our beloved juniors. It will be too great a blow for you to recover if we were to leave this institute in entirety.

We are leaving behind our representatives, the pioneers, in the form of MSBR, PHD students and even future IIIT professor for your benefit. Yes, the faculty might think that they are here for doing “State Of Art” research and development work, but I think we share a secret here J. They are here to fill in that great “void * main” and will always be there for you.
And now, as the past has been saved, the future generations of IIIT in safe hands, I can now safely bid good bye to you all….and may God bless IIIT.

Thank you all the professors for teaching us and our juniors for this farewell party.