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Dear Readers, 

                      In the year 2005, I was elated to hear the news that I have got selected for admission into a Masters Programme at the coveted CHS (Centre for Historical Studies) in Jawaharlal Nehru University or JNU, the premier institution for Higher Education in our nation. On a cool, breezy July evening soothed by a monsoon shower, I entered the lush green campus in South Delhi and the very first day, I  lost myself in the swarms of students and other people walking on the footpath along the broad roads of that campus bordered with dense thicket (JNU of 2005 was a lot more greener than what it is today with 40 percent less concrete). The air of JNU breathed freedom, I felt. 

                     A series of monsoonal showers drenched me and a classmate of mine as we walked aimlessly round and round the Ring road, sometimes all the way up to the East Gate and back to the PSR ( dear students, PSR of those days was like a huge rock standing tall in the middle of a thick jungle, something resembling a pride's dwelling in the Serengeti and it did not look like a devastated public park like it does now!). We were amused to find such a space in the middle of saadi Dilli which was so very different from Roop Nagar, K Nags or Defence Colony, the Delhi we knew so far. The walks and the showers continued untill serendipitously they extended into the wee hours of the morning. That saawan, I saw for the first time in my life, that when you look up while its pouring, you can see the looped trajectory of the falling rain drops. I discovered for the first time in my life, the exuberant aroma of tuberoses. (remember the florist around the corner). Dear friends, it has never poured like that again since the monsoons of 2005. 

                          One lazy night, when me and my friend (the same classmate with whom I walked like a kid in Disneyland) were coming back from the library, the voice of a few students shouting slogans reached us. My friend told me excitedly that it was a 'mashaal juloos' ( a protest march where students carry torches) and dragged me there against my wishes. There were better things to do on a wet, washed night of August than go and watch a student's 'protest march'. I had no idea what it meant and hated this impromtu decision for I had plans of going to PSR again and try to view the Nehru Stadium from there. Alack! My loss....what on Earth was this 'protest march', why would students protest at 12 in the night, what would they protest against? Alack, my loss!....

                                                                                                                      (to be continued).....