Remembering Lucknow
It is over 45 degrees. The mid-day sun bakes the helpless earth, the blue seas the only salve. When the wind blows, there is little relief, rather a hot gust of summer scorches us further. Standing under the compassionate shadow of an eucalyptus, I feel heavily drained of energy, but my mind receives a sudden jolt, and all the stupor dissipates away. I remember instantly of the one place in my experiences where a similar dry summer was everyday life - not Kolkata with its humid extravaganza or Mumbai with its seaside smile, but northern India, more particularly, Lucknow.
Summers in Lucknow were a simulation for a blast furnace – the blazing sun, the angry loo, the desiccation in the air were stifling. I remember assiduously pouring water in my water cooler – an old contraption of a motor that would spray water on a curtain of straw, which in turn would be blown by a fan – though scientific, it added little respite. If summer had a version of ‘When it rains, it pours…’, well, this would be it! I distinctly remember my next-door neighbour splashing the same water instead on the steaming floor and even the walls. Now that was respite, perhaps…
Every movement – from hostel to mess, or admin block to classroom – was an effort indeed. But thanks to summer, every student would end up visiting the centrally air-conditioned library. Some nights would even take festive proportions with the huddle of large groups, creating that collective energy that only closely united friends can. Now, whether they would be investing that energy in finishing assignments was an altogether different question. Then there was the added respite of Guptaji’s store delivering you a dose of chilled Thums-up or a sikanji at every beck and call. Summer had its share of fun. And even those rare experiences – such as that of the Jacobin Cuckoo.
An avid bird-watcher, I had in my first few months identified, snapped and catalogued all the birds that could be spotted on campus. It was in late June though that I happened to hear a strange call that I couldn’t decipher. Well, the MIS presentation could wait, I had to find the new bird on the block. I stepped onto my balcony and after a few moments, discovered a new black and white jay like bird. I took a few difficult pics and failing to identify the bird, sent it to my zoologist brother-in-law who texted immediately with the answer – the pied cuckoo or the Jacobin cuckoo. A bit of Google, and out poured the revelations – it was the legendary chatak bird that waited for the rains to quench its thirst! The more scientific explanation was the migratory bird from Africa following the monsoon winds into the heartlands of India. And guess what, the monsoon rains arrived just a couple of days later!
If the summers were unforgiving, the monsoons were as benevolent. The rains would arrive and the campus would turn into an emerald green oasis. What joy it would be to walk or cycle in these downpours through boulevards of jade, sometimes with only the peafowls for company. And away from home, there were no limits to get wet in the rains, any time of the day. I have gone for midnight walks in the rain for a bit of rejuvenation, as much as I have completed night-outs prepping for exams or assignments, only to start the day with a walk in the rains. Of course, it was a lesson, like so many others from the alma mater that taught so much to survive in the thoroughfares of life – the harder the struggle, the sweeter the reward.
But perhaps the bigger lesson was the lengths to which man can and will adapt – if you had to sit through 46 degrees to finish your mid-term preparations, you would do it – and often, even come out with flying colours. If you had to go through searing heat in summer, then winter would arrive nearly grazing a 5 degree bitter chill, not to forget, getting up in time for a 7am exam. It was then, never about being the superhero you already were, but the willingness to raise your frail human self to face and win the adversities that a mortal otherwise wouldn't. Just as it was never about earning knowledge, but facing challenges that would help you realise wisdom. Such as all pilgrimages should be.
And the result? A mind-set that anything is bearable in life, if you have the reason to withstand the pain.
There are no rains here today. The cloudless sky radiates even brighter shades of blue as the sun keeps clambering up and up.
My colleague complains it is very hot. But I glance at the cyan blue waters, the beautiful greens of the reserve and the golden sands and smile instead, thinking of my alma mater – it is still bearable, nothing is too hard. Somewhere far away, a city remembers, a campus reassures, and a Jacobin cuckoo nestles in, bringing in the monsoon winds of salvation….
29th November, 2020
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