One fine day I decided not to cross
the road until a motor vehicle passes by. This road rests in peace in the town
of Bokaro. It was a hot morning and I had free time. I thought if I was lucky,
an old rusty scooter with a retired uncle sitting on it would pass by in a minute or two in full
leisure as if it had nothing in the world to compete with. I kept waiting under
the shade of a tree and fell prey to one of my favorite pastimes here, Nostalgia.
Link for the pic source |
Bokaro Steel City is a sleepy town
based around a big steel plant. The Steel Authority of India Limited plant is
located on the outskirts, its two big chimneys standing tall as a proof of its
existence to the residents. Most of the residential buildings of the town
belong to SAIL employees apart from the small pockets occupied by
bank employees and businessmen. The town is divided into sectors with well-maintained
roads and ample space for greenery. With constant supply of electricity and
water and availability of shopping complexes in each sector, it has decent
facilities for family living. The mall culture hasn’t arrived yet maybe because
of economic or administrative constraints. But one can find recent trending items on sale
in the city center shopping complexes. The population is moderate with the
demographic composition tilted towards higher age group. There is not much the town can offer its
young generation who pass out from its schools. Like it's steel most of its boys
and girls are consumed outside.
At present the real attraction are
its schools and coaching centers. In the 90’s when the IIT JEE question papers
used to be like the actions and vagaries of a woman which meant if you could
understand even 10-20% of what they wanted you would be among the few chosen
ones, Bokaro produced some top rankers for consecutive years. Credit goes to
the students, their schools as well as some employees of SAIL who being
engineers could provide the right coaching in PCM (Physics, Chemistry, Maths). The news of its results spread
which attracted students from the other parts of Bihar and Jharkhand. In the
last 20 years coaching centres have spread like a greedy money plant
crisscrossing its length and breadth. Pasted on the walls of colonies or
garages are either the posters of movies or some Kumar or Jha inciting
the students to join their coaching class.
I remember going to school and
coaching classes with my friends on my BSA SLR Photon. Whenever we found an
empty road which was not very infrequent, we would strike hard on our pedals to
generate speed and then stand on it while the cycle continued moving with the
generated momentum. During these moments with the wind hitting hard on my face I
would feel like a king. One could see
hordes of cycles parked outside the gate of a building, a sure sign of a batch
being taught in some room above. News of an upcoming new batch by some Dr. Kumar
or Dr. Singh spread like wildfire and speculations of which batch the toppers would
join made rounds in school gossip. I was neither a clear cut topper nor a boy
of gossip. I would always subconsciously
screen the batch on the first day to check how hard the heart would beat as
algebra, mechanics or chemical composition was being taught on the board. They
used to sit on the first few benches. I still see groups of students on roads
and cycles parked outside some buildings. It seems not much has changed on this front
apart from the dumping down of the content being taught in the coaching classes
due to the flirtations of Mr Kapil Sibal with the engineering exams pattern.
The coaching classes were the real
charm for us because preparing for JEE meant no play and a disciplined routine
at home. Batches after batches went in and came out like slabs of steel coming
out of a refractory unit. Most of the infrastructure consisted of a garage
converted into a class. If the instructor had a taste for appearance, the walls
would be painted otherwise the smell of brick dust would enter our nervous
system along with the syllabus prescribed by JEE authorities. Now one can see these
classes being conducted in special buildings with library and A/C facilities.
We didn’t have these comforts. The instructors themselves were unique though,
each teaching in his own style. One of them had developed a four step formula
to trace the mechanism of any reaction in organic chemistry, a feat if proven
right could be a candidate for the Noble prize in my opinion. It was a home-made
recipe served only to the few who sat in
his class. Another used to teach the workings of radio and television even
though it was not prescribed in the syllabus along with constant reference to the
Russian book of ‘Problems in mechanics’ by I.E. Irodov and its solutions as if
he were Irodov’s long lost brother. My favourite was the teacher who rode a
bullet and you would know from far off that he was arriving. He was the dabaang sort with good wit. The first
line he spoke while starting the chapter on ellipse in a coordinate geometry class
was “ Parabola, hyperbola par ellipse
kyon nahi bola[1]”
stretching the kyon. Sounded funny
then. There were others but I can see something arriving, very slow and steady.
The sound of creaking pedals hits my ear which means I have to wait longer.
I keep sitting under the shade. There
is a field on my back called the Shakha
field because it was the place where RSS (Rashtriya Svayamsevak Sangh) Bokaro branch
used to have its shakhas (daily gathering)
in the morning. After they were done, it became the ground for conducting inter
colony cricket matches. These were one of the fiercest competitions I have
taken part in. The JEE and CAT exams would sometimes seem comparable to the adrenalin rush
one gets while representing his colony at a young age (before class 10th) in matches where there
are no neutral umpires. Half of the time in the match would go over fighting
whether the balls were wide or a no. If the ball stopped somewhere near the invisible
boundary both the teams ran to assemble and check whether it had crossed or was put to stop by the wild grasses. The umpire
belonged to the batting team and hence he was put to a stern test of his
loyalty especially when the match reached its end. If you win the toss there
was no question of bowling first because there was nothing much of a pitch to
think about the pace and bounce and also because many matches would not reach
their conclusion as the team fielding second had the leisure of calling off the
match and return to their homes to have an energizing bath and study. The only price
for such an act was that if a match was scheduled the next time with any team
of the sector, the team that reneged earlier would necessarily have to bat
second. The joy of winning a match, ohh
and the consequent celebrations and abuses thrown at the losing team have still
stayed clearly in my memory.
I get a call from home that food is
ready. I tell them that I just had food sometime back but that is of no use, I
had grown thin like most of my friends have in the eyes of their mothers and
hence I had to eat. I can’t tell them how long it will take for me to come
back. But by the grace of the steel god, a shining white car, one of the newest
brands on sale is coming towards me on the road. It passes by at a zooming
speed with a young man on the driver’s seat. I stand up, dust my trousers and
cross the road to walk towards home, eat and have a good sleep.
[1] Parabola,
hyperbola and ellipse represent three geometrical figures formed by three
different functions on the x-y plane. Bola translates in English to
spoke/speaks. A literal translation would be “Para spoke, hyper spoke, so why didn’t
ellipse speak?” One needs to see the three figures to understand what the
statement is referring to.
21 comments:
Wonderful!Even I got nostalgic reading this. And great comparison between the steel and the students!
Jabardast hai ye toh ! Loved it so totally.
:) simple yet beautiful..I liked reading it, especially the portion about your coaching profs.
:) simple yet beautiful..I liked reading it, especially the portion about your coaching profs.
Awesome!!!!! Loved it :) Too good Sunny Bhaiya!!
Thanks everybody for your good comments :)
Bahut kuch yaad dila diye aap.
poora scene sab bokaro ka flashback me chalne laga
Really wonderful post.Made me remember my days in bokaro.
Good read... i forgot times man. ! its same everywhere i guess. our coaching days :p
U made me force a whole chunk of tym ...n so I flunked office today :)
Soaked in nostalgia.
Ranjit Sir - the dabang.
Loved reading it. Do you have recent pics ? We had to leave this city 13 years back. Wish to go back someday.
Thanks again..
@Anshul: will take it as a complement..but flunking office!!!
@Vivek: do not have pics with me..was actually looking for them while writing this post..
@UV: I did not study under Ranjit sir, had his teacher in mind..
years have passed...but as in your words, bokaro seems to be still the same...loved reading it with happy tears and the adrenaline rush, it was for us too as spectators...after all pride is what matters!!!
True n well written..!! Its kind of a craze those days..even i had a BSA SLR photon. Time has separated many of us from the steel city.
Although I cannot relate to the IIT JEE coaching centre and cricket sessions you described, nevertheless a good nostalgic writing about the city I proudly call my home. Those hot , eerily silent afternoons of summer come to my mind. Well written.
Those hot eerily silent afternoons of the town I call my home come to my mind. Well written.
read it again... feels good man...
pride, nostalgia and yes hot and errie afternoons..all wld rightly describe bokaro for those who have spent their time there..nd thanks for ur appreciation..
its just nostalgic...awesome piece ,,of writtiing.
What a beauti you had explained. Mind blowing thought for mind blowing city.
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