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Binu & Sivan
Everybody calls him Patta. Perhaps, like he explained to his mom when she intercepted a letter from me addressed to Patta, because he is a Pattar. He was tall, dark and handsome. OK, tall and dark; two out of three is not bad…(sorry, old REC gag). He used to sleep in a hammock, was a pioneer in electronic eavesdropping, could drum and sing equally well and was a pal.
But it was when we returned to REC as Freedom Fighters that Sivan and I became close. And mauling our Bengali Dada in Kattangal, high on Cherunni’s, is a fond memory from our re-engineering period.
After I moved to Chennai, Patta used to come over once in a way and we always had a good time – death-defying stunts on my bike, noon show in Blue Diamond, night show in Shanti, those were the days… The he married from Chennai, and stopped coming to Chennai.
But we are still in touch, and late in the evening, when I feel sad and lonely – or just plain drunk – it is always Sivan that I call, and at times, vice versa
In the beginning there was ragging. Then suspension and samaram. The college authorities refused to budge and the students decided to storm the DB.
Next scene. Exterior. REC campus. Mid-morning. Students being chased and pummelled by cops. Cut.
We regrouped in our hostels, built barricades, laid traps, locked the gates and waited for the attack…Then the cops left the campus, and the students celebrated by wrecking the workshops and labs (Sometimes, I guess there just aren’t enough rocks. Ask Forrest Gump). When the adrenalin subsided we sneaked out through B Hostel kitchen, scaled the wall, stopped a passing bus and left for Calicut.
Guess Shakeel and Sreeku were with me. Our plan was to take the night train to Cochin. A lot of time to kill, instead of hanging around the railway station – who will chat with Mech guys, anyway? – we decided to go for a movie…After we left, the cops came and rounded up all RECC-ians waiting in the railway station. Earlier, all the guys who stayed back in the hostels had been taken into custody.
We were lucky to escape on that day. But we took many years to exorcise the demons spawned that day…
Once, the night before a 3rd sem exam, when black coffee and cold showers couldn’t keep us awake, Vinu, Pattar and I tried a desperate measure – ‘dry shave’, hoping the cuts and nicks will ward off sleep long enough for us to read our portions. It didn’t work for me – FM became the first paper I ‘skooted’
For Vinu, shaving at 3 am in the dark B hostel loo was definitely a moment of epiphany – he cleaned up his act and never mugged with me again!
I was always in touch with Vinu, except for that brief while when he went back to REC (and you know what happened to him there). Over the years, whenever we jammed, we would talk about Paramu’s whereabouts – he had this habit of disappearing from our batch radar every few years.
Then two years ago, Paramu resurfaced in Chennai. It was like old times, we dropped in at Vinu’s place at midnight, woke up Paul at 2 am, partied till dawn – too bad Kathi was not around…
The more we change…
Civil Suresh, Appappan, Paramu, Babu, Vinu, Outside D-321, 1987
Chicku was my junior in college, and the photo above was snapped in his room on Non-Pol Avenue, during our batch’s final countdown.
(There is a story behind all that brown paper on the walls, do ask me some time)
We shared a passion for quizzing and movies. And during my 8th sem study leave (and Chicku’s 7th), when the whole hostel was in hyper kuth mode, we used to have these never ending movie quizz sessions (Mick Martin & Marsha Porter, Thank you!). Our other common interests included music, books, quizzing, partying and chorichil, and we had had a great time together.
Chicku always used to say RIP, and he was right.
Final Years’ Day, October 1987, Outside Audi
Sitting: Jaggu, Newton, Zulfi, Suresh, Paramu, Babu, Chudan
Standing: Rakesh, Pattar, Hari, Kathi, Jackie, Vinu, Shilen, Baby Alex, Santhosh(?)
Walking: Baby PP
The shirt that Paramu is wearing is mine
Santhosh George was our batchmate in REC. Achayan from Kuwait. Soft-spoken genius. Tall, dark, handsome (OK, he was dark).
We used to call him Appappan.
He had a fiery temper, but on a very long fuse. To my credit, i did manage to get his goat a coupla times…
In the third year, everybody except the Mechs pushed off for the senti tour. Appapps couldnt go because he was down with jaundice. I gave him company, till i too was jaundiced! We were in the E Hostel then. Later we became neighbours in D Hostel’s Non-Pol Avenue (big story alert, check back soon).
In those days we used to sustain ourselves on Kattngal stuff – Appapps voluntarily; i was chucked out of the mess. Rotis and bulls-eye were our fav dinner fare – tastewise nothing comes close to a dry roti dipped in egg yolk goo, but it is not a pretty sight. And Appapps had this skill to run through a stack of rotis without as much as scratching the yolk membrane.
The last time i saw him was some 12-13 years ago, at some valve, automation expo in Delhi. That night – a freezing winter night – i rode pillion on Appappan’s Bajaj all the way to Faridabad to meet his pondatti. A few months after that, i heard he moved to Singapore, and we lost contact.
Then yesterday, in Kochi i met Saju C. Sam along with Vinu G (Rajasthan). Saju informed me Santhosh George was some Senior Tech Director with Oracle in Hyderabad.
I Googled ‘Santhosh George + Oracle’, and found the name mentioned in Wikipedia’s REC page under notable alumni. I was a bit J (not ‘crazy jeaolus’, check out My Best Friend’s Wedding) but still called Oracle, cut through layers of bureaucracy and finally got Santhosh George on the line.
In my best Amitabh Bachchan voice, i intoned, ‘Babu Kuriakose’. Santhosh George was like, Who?
To cut a long story short – REC, Santhosh George, yes, but wrong batch. This was some kid!
The search continues…
The Chennai chapter of the REC Calicut Alumni Association is organising a World RECCAA Meet in Chennai from 28th to 30th December 2007. For more info: wrmchennai@yahoogroups.com
MC – Where we spent most of the four (or five) years…
REC Calicut
This place is a strange one. this is a college, where we spent 4 eventful years. A sort of hotel california; I know many people who have checked out but has never really left. Walk around this place and you can see them; can hear them. A place so filled up with memories, you take a turn and see someone just because all those four years you got so used to taking that turn and bumping into him. Once out here, your memories take over and it need not be reality that you always end up seeing.
(Image and text borrowed from a RECCian! Thank you.
Please check out http://motorbreathing.com/longback.html)
Babu Kuriakose 