My early years in JNU

I was born into a family of academics. My parents had met while pursuing their doctoral degrees in a city then known as Leningrad and in a country that no longer exists - USSR. After spending five years earning their PhD, they returned to India and were married. Such a marriage was a first for both families at the time, my mother being a Bengali and my father a north Indian who was born and raised in Lucknow. And with surprising lack of opposition from either side - especially considering that this was middle class India in 1970. Soon after my birth, at the tender age of 2, I was diagnosed with severe bronchial asthma...which perhaps led to my mother giving up her professional career and devoting her life entirely to my well being and upbringing. Till today, I consider that the academic world lost a talented lady.

My father then joined Jawaharlal Nehru University to teach modern European history and we moved into the beautiful campus, which in those days was still an upcoming institution comprising a small number of clustered buildings. These included the academic block, hostel accommodations for students who came from far and wide, living quarters for the teaching staff...and 400 acres of wild open space! I say wild because that is exactly what it was. JNU is situated on hilly terrain at the southernmost tip of the Indian capital and is amply endowed with nature's bounties - both the flora and fauna. It has a forested feel with thick shrubs and dense foliage. And lots of animals. As kids, we saw all kinds within the campus. Like the majestic peacock dancing to herald rain early in the morning. Or the stately Neelgai (asian Antelopes known for their blueish colour) who would get startled and disperse if you chanced upon them. Sometimes there were packs of foxes, and in our early years we heard wolves howling in the night. We have seen large monitor lizards. These reptiles are known for their distinctive ability to get "stuck" to surfaces. I am told their services were called upon by the fierce Marathas who would scale walls of fortresses by tying ropes around the lizards and climbing up behind them...a unique form of guerilla warfare in those days! And of course there were snakes!! During my growing years, I got to see them at close quarters. It was not uncommon to chance upon one while strolling along a secluded path. Once my dog, a brave little dachshund named Zulu, kept guard against a cobra in a barking and hissing battle that lasted over three hours. It is said that these snakes go in search of their dead mates. This one had slithered into our house a month after its mate had been discovered by the same trusty friend in our garden. Unfortunately for them, both were executed by gardeners who were adept at handling such situations. Once we even had a black scorpion scampering across our corridor.

Set as it was in such beautiful natural surroundings, and cocooned from the big, bustling city...yet it never felt far enough for one to lose touch with cosmopolitan realities. On the one hand I came in close proximity to nature. On the other, I grew up amidst learned academicians. Simple people with surprisingly strong views. Views ranging from the far left (JNU was a socialist bastion in the 70's and 80's and may still be to some extent) to the liberal...and at times even the far right! Many an evening were spent listening to debates on matters concerning the nation, the economy, and of course everyone's favourite - politics! As the evening would progress, so would the decibel level with everyone vociferously holding forth their points of view!

Growing up in JNU has had a profound effect on me...and memories of my childhood and teenage years are deeply engrained. It has now been a decade since my father retired and we left the campus. And almost everybody I knew there has since moved on and are in different corners of the planet. The university has also grown - both in prominence and in size. Buildings have sprouted and there are fewer secluded spots around the campus. Yet, I scarcely need to close my eyes and am transported back to the tranquil environment of my childhood. I vividly recollect every aspect of life on the campus. The rock on the park outside my house where we spent countless hours playing and chatting. The lovely smells that would emanate from trees during rains. And the winters!! Waking up in the morning and peeping out of the window in anticipation of a cold, foggy day. Long walks along the road that encircled the academic block, with hands thrust deep inside the jacket. And the new year parties when my friends and I would go around collecting firewood for the bonfire... Even today, my visits to Delhi are incomplete without a drive into the university campus. I go there to spend a few quiet, solitary moments...driving on the same roads, walking the same paths. On my last visit, I went and sat on the rock outside my old house, maybe after 20 years. It was strange how it now seemed much smaller. Either I had outgrown it, or somewhere it had assumed larger than life proportions in my imagination.

Is this an escape from current reality? Am I craving a life long gone? Of a chapter closed forever. Maybe it epitomises an existence that I seek and have not yet achieved? Or does the past always seem glorious in comparison to the present?? I do not have answers to my own questions. What I do know, however, is that I have been truly privileged to have spent my formative years in such a wonderfully charming, warm and cosy world, the likes of which I might never experience again...