The journey before the Journey

The eighteen days after my last day at work went in a flash and it was time to pack my bags for Goa. I was going alone to a new place where both the cultural and the social differences from that of my native place were easy to sight. My parents were tensed about my journey to the Management Institute rather than being tensed about the ‘journey’ after this. They left me at the Bhubaneswar airport an hour earlier than my scheduled flight departure.

After my checking in formalities, I decided against having lunch at the airport or during the flight. The decision was pathetic. I was hungry when I was landing at Hyderabad airport for a switch of ship. Here I couldn’t restrain myself from the delicious delicacies and broke my promise like I never made it. My next flight was miserly delayed by about fifteen minutes but that was enough to trigger the panic button to many of my fellow passengers. I realised the importance of time from these self made bureaucrats who just wanted to have the attention of a few pretty faces. There were a few others who followed their ‘Leaders’ just like they had followed our lovable ‘Anna’ and then the home grown ‘Yoga guru’. I thought, had it not been a private airlines, the words that were shot at the hosts during the flight would have been enough to start another of the famous ‘strikes’ that makes the lives of thousands miserable in India just like the one that happened only a few days back.

During this flight to Goa, I didn’t miss an opportunity to take snaps of this most enticing place on Earth where millions come to witness the wild in the city. As I was on a propeller plane, the height that it flew at was optimum for my soul-sprouting photography. The way the outlines of the Western Ghats mingled with the rivers and how the rivers got drowned into the back waters of the Arabian sea compelled me to make another promise: To account the journey in writing. This promise, though, I didn’t break.

I went to the Ribander campus straight from the airport only to find empty buildings dangling aside a few ferry docks. I had to board at Panjim which was quite near as the other campus at Sanquelim was about 60km away and it was already getting dark. I found my room which was decent and most importantly it was in the heart of the city. Actually the city didn’t even had the slightest blemish of the shape of an heart. Rather, it was cluster of a few concentric polygons where you always get lost and yet you always find your way back.

The one thing that I almost forgot was to talk about the rain. That’s because ‘rain’ has become a permanent entity in my life from the very moment I landed on this place. The rain is not heavy but it continues for days. I have witnessed rain since the past four days without a break. It has rained so much that within this short time, we are made to believe that life is rain and we all need an umbrella!

After a day and a half in Panjim, I took a taxi to the Sanquelim campus in the early hours for which I burnt a hole in my pocket. The roadway was upbeat, not like the other ghat roads you normally come across in eastern India. The car was making a rhythmic beat all its way to the exotic mountain top campus of Goa Institute of Management as if singing to the tunes of the snoring mountains and the hissing rivers on both sides.

I reached the institute and found rain accompanying me all the way up the hill. I completed all the registration formalities and I was asked to go for the room allotment procedure. This was particularly mismanaged by an institute of repute. I had to wait for my turn to come for nearly two hours in a room fit for two persons to live in and where more than seventy ‘GIMians’ were queuing up. There were a few who had their back packs still on their backs further burdening the homogenous distribution of oxygen in the room. I had chosen to take the risk of leaving all my baggage outside the room alongside the swarm of parents patrolling their child’s baggage. Thankfully it paid off!

I got a room mate and he got me and that was it: the starting of a new partnership which might be worth two years if not more! I was recognised as an Oriya even if I was a Bengali by birth and my room mate had this divine gift too. He was considered to be a Bengali when he was actually an UPite by birth. Friends were hard to come by specially to an ‘All doors closed’ personality like me but nevertheless like minded people flock together and they gel well. I got my share of friends and obviously hope to gain a few more in the coming days once the classes begin.

Working for the past two years, I had almost lost the feel of a student. Moreover, in IT you forget the intricacies of an hierarchy in an Organization. This would be a week link for me for the next couple of weeks in GIM. Then I would again learn to show the world, that I respect my Instructors and my Seniors. Sharing room with a ‘roomie’ is also something that I am not looking kindly at at this moment. Given an option, I would always dwell well in a single occupancy room. Highly unlikely as it may sound, I have started playing table-tennis again and I am picking up at my own pace. Carom is always a comfort zone for me and it’s wonderful to show others the repertoire of shots that I have got. It may sound like I am blowing my own trumpet but let’s state the fact: Pressure  from the expecting audience always pushes me to the next level.

On Sunday, when a large group of mates abandoned the hostel to make their souls lighter in the sea breeze of Goa, I stayed back to keep my promise: The written account of my Journey before the journey. The foundation classes for my MBA begins tomorrow and the faculties have taken an oath before us to stress us and stretch us in these two years! God be with us.