I...I am @ IIM Lucknow

  After hanging up my boots and a short holiday back home, I am inside the coveted gates of an institution, one of the strongest brands, education in India can have. I …. I am at IIM.

            The PGP students call it the gates of hell. Their professors tell us that they do go through hell. Before coming here, six years back, I too had my experience with this 'gate to hell" phenomena, when I entered the gates at OTA. Those gates were different and my hellish experience was gruelingly different. I guess it’s the way you look at hell.. !!

            Anyways, landing in Lucknow after a two hour flight from Bombay felt just like getting back to base after leave. This time though, there was no change into uniform and no transit camp to go to. The small size of the totally empty airport tarmac and the pre 1990 construction of the partly dilapidates airport terminal, didn’t shock me as it does, to many who travel from India’s Metro’s to “small town India”. I have already had my share of “shocks” earlier, kudos the army.  Well, Lucknow is the Capital of the most populous state of the country and the Nawab of the Hindi speaking belt, though managed and administered by the most corrupt politicians India has produced. A dilapidated, ancient airport is definitely not an eye sore here.

            I picked my bags and booked a prepaid cab to the campus. I’ve realized, through the course of my travels  around the country, that the word “pre-paid”  gives me a  great sense of security and every time I land in an “alien” airport, I  look for the counter. I feel the worst part of travel, is to haggle with the cab guy and feel fleeced. The additional fare in “pre- paid” is probably, the price we pay for feeling secure.

            The cab driver received me outside the terminal and took the trolley from me to push it to the waiting cab. No sooner did he take it from my hands, did another guy come and take it from his.  This guy earned his grub by providing this sort of “escort service”, sounds a little cocky but I can’t find a better JD for the guy. He diligently walked to the cab and carefully, I noticed his deliberation, placed the bags in the trunk. Unlike Bombay, where once I had to squabble with the same sort of "escort service" guy, who forcibly took the bags and then demanded a “bakshish”, this “escort man” was more polite. Lucknow is known for its tehzeeb and respectful use of the Hindi/ Urdu language and the guy though disappointed at me, for handing over three rupees in coins (the only change I had), still smiled and even opened the door for  me. I apologized for the unavailability of funds!! Tehzeeb is infectious..!!

            The drive to IIML wasn’t as pleasurable as I had expected it to be. We went from one by-pass to the other and totally by passed the city. I wondered, whether I did land in Lucknow. After about 30 minutes of driving, which is long, as per Lucknow standards, I reached the “Gates of Hell”. It was already post sunset and my eyes hadn’t adjusted well, so I wasn’t really able to figure out the hell factor, through the well manicured landscape around and inside the gate. Well, entry into OTA was the same, just after sunset. Again I couldn’t figure out the hell factor at the time. It was, of course explained really well, later on.

           A quick registration check at the gate and I was directed to Hostel 15, which as per the guard was at the end of the road and which was “ peepal ke ped ke paas”. I am yet to find that “peepal ka ped”. In the army, we are used to all sorts of sign boards, for practically everything. Over here, though the layout seemed like a cantonment, the lack of sign boards made the difference. It took me about 10 minutes to find my home for the next six months, which was just a Km from the gate, through a straight winding road.

            I was among the last to arrive. The room allotted to me was on the third floor. The 25 k strolley would’ve been the worst torture the temporary attendant would have borne, trying to lift it up six flights of stairs. While he did that, I was busy chatting up my long lost course mates. I guess he must’ve forgotten his tehzeeb that time.  I caught up with him, on the third floor, unaware of the pain he must’ve gone through and took charge of the strolley to roll it to my room. I am sure to have got a lot of curses  at that moment.

            The rooms here are basic, yet not as basic as those in the army. Single room with a balcony and a common bathroom for the floor, is I guess a luxury for a student in hell. I can’t even compare it to the rooms in my hell. I got on to set my room and get used to the environs, more so, meet the 26 of my batch mates. The timetable for the whole term was already on the notice board, I read the still unknown acronyms for subject sessions and after a quick grub at the mess across the football field, I returned to call it a day. My sojourn in the place of dreams, hell for many, Brand IIM,had just begun.