Modern Generation - A resurrection from old ways
Slowly, he pulled down the shutters of his tea shop with a heavy heart and trembling hands. Helplessly, we watched the pain outlined over his, otherwise bustling eyes.
It was the first Alumni celebrations ever conducted in our college. Thanks to WhatsApp, a social media platform which was fast binding the hearts and souls that has fallen apart. It was like ‘Beyond the Dreams’ coming true to Tony, who took the initiative to get us all connected. He felt, positive responses were the Thank-you note to his strenuous hardships and dedication in uniting groups long lost and forgotten, but finally re-discovered.
Eventually, the reunion day unfolded into boundless fantasies on 18th April 2019. Our college, a haven of greenery was in a festive mood. Situated beside the coastal lines of Shanghumugham beach, spread across 36 acres, lulled by the riverine breeze, its long stretch of silver sands, mould and uplift her beyond any leaps and bounds. A little ahead of the gate is the stone groove of Mother Mary beautifully sculpted with big round pebbles. Behind it is our main building. If we take a few steps right towards the main building, we can find a way to the reverberating sounds of band beats and pop music which filled the air with a mesmerizing feel. Unaware to all these happenings around, our one time all in all favourite sportive tea stall is facing its closing ceremony today.
From the stage of irresponsible and uncaring, how time changes each human being is an experience that no classroom teaching sessions can teach. Time tested experience is required to understand its sweetness and bitterness. Now it’s our time to explore each other’s level of experience. Much ahead of the time fixed, hopes and curiosity dragged our legs to the meeting place, premises of our old Alma mater.
With mixed feelings of shock and surprise, the early comers began to share pictures and videos in the group. Gone are the old and nostalgic smell of our place. Everywhere the new trend of modernism was getting blossomed, giving way to strange feel of ‘Far and Beyond Recognition’.
For me, it’s nearly a one-hour journey in the city bus, which I readily declined and hired the embodiment of modern mode of commutation,” Ola”. As I was well knitted with my classmates through Facebook and WhatsApp, my heart was thumping fast to see my favourite teachers who moulded me to my present shape as well to see my campus with its sand-covered walking paths dotted with pine trees on each side.
Along my journey, I tried hard to recollect a few faces who are warding away from FB or WhatsApp as they are still untouched by modernism. I too tried a little brainwash which ended up in utter failure. For them chatting, messaging, updating the profile pics and status every 5 min is a mere waste of time when they prefer better things to do. Hearing their laments, I thought it’s better to leave them to wander in their own identities, rather than getting misidentified with the picture enhancing Apps.
When I saw the final bend leading to the college and the long railway lines before the gate, I could listen to my heartbeats pounding hard against my ribcage. The car halted in front of the bus stop. With a bag full of emotions, I tried to collect myself and walked slowly towards the railway lines. The railway gate was closed, but as my patience is getting slackened, I crossed the lines with a quick glance on either side.
It was indeed an overwhelming joy to see our Alma mater bathed in flags, balloons and illuminating bulbs, which are yet to be alive. Inside beneath the pine trees, I saw a few groups fast chatting, laughing madly at someone’s jokes. While entering I met a few of my acquaintances studied in the same year entering the campus.
Once the introductions, shocks, and complaints subsided, we tried to explore the campus. In the special dress codes, ladies were looking very elegant whereas men seemed to be immersed in their own personal world, in their cream dhoti and kurta. Some men even came in formals.
Even though outwardly we all seem to be very matured responsible crowning the parenthood position very sophistically, but inwardly we felt we were still in those naive times and thought to give our first visit to our dear Subramanya Uncle’s famous Tea Stall.
With everyone’s thumbs-up, we slowly walked towards the place, a little beyond the library building.
Though painted with a little touch of modernism, still the place hasn’t lost the old cravings which we all wished. Climbing the few steps itself we felt something wrong. We saw a young lad of 13 sitting near the counter. On our inquiry about Uncle, he called loudly. “Grandpa, some people have come to see you.” A quick movement at the backyard, a long-lost smell of tea cakes and samosa filled the air suddenly, and we saw our Uncle standing before us. Long 20 years painted his overall existence with white hairs, wrinkled face and fragile body.
Swapna the most talkative among us said, “Uncle I am Swapna, our gang is a frequent visitor to your tea stall while studying for graduation. Can you recollect any one of us?” she paused with a naughty twinkle in her eyes.
But the blank expression we received from the other end prevented us from cracking any jokes, so rest of the conversation took a serious turn.
Suddenly Jose asked, “Do you have our old samosas and tea cakes Uncle?”
His intention was to give a twist to the grim poise reflected on our faces. Without losing the self-control Uncle said, “Even though I cannot recognize your faces, I am happy to hear that all of you once enjoyed the goodies I prepared. I am happy to hear that. Those days do you often come here?” He asked with a tone of surprise and doubt.
“Yes, Uncle,” we all said in unison.” Your goodies especially samosa with green and red chutney’s sprawled over, how much it has relieved us from our boring classes.” Jay added.
“Your place did not go for many renovations, thank God! We still think we have come back to our old college days.” Sathish said with a feeling of sadness and comfort.
While we were still in our thoughts, the young lad, which now we came to know that Uncles grandson came with hot samosas and a few tea cakes. “Will you have tea?” he asked when serving the yummies in banana leaf.
“Of course, we want hot tea also.” Tony blasted breaking the long silence he went into from the moment we entered the tea stall. He continued softly, “Uncle, from Ganesh our old security I heard that you are closing your stall today” Is it, true Uncle?” Tony’s grim face and soft-spoken words fell upon us as an unspoken reality.
From the long pause which followed we understood that Uncle is trying hard to keep his composure. Very quietly he murmured, “Yes, it is getting closed, not from my end but from management end. New generation no more enjoys my samosa and chutney’s.” he stopped.
“They don’t like oily goodies my grandpa prepares.” Vishal who was serving tea said coldly. “For the samosa made from Maida is not good for their health, instead they crave for pizza made from the same flour. You didn’t see the welcoming boards of Domino’s Pizza that is getting inaugurated today?” he ended sarcastically.
Now all the pictures slowly got dawned before our eyes. As we were stepping out down the stairs, Uncle and Vishal also came looked heavily on us, turned and started to pull down the shutters with his wrinkled, shaky hands. The middle of the shutters, it's engraved, “Closed Permanently”
Both came towards us, tears binding their eyes, our too. None of us were in a mood to talk.
Nearing the main building, Uncle and grandson said goodbye and even invited us to their home, a temporary tent house built on the shores of Shanghumugham beach. In a pensive feel, I said, before winding up from here we will surely come to your home, Uncle.” With a smile far from the happiness he nodded his head and turned to the gate while we turned towards the inauguration building.
Throughout our meeting time, I was just watching him. The deep strain on his face, I was able to read it well. I was feeling about whether he is thinking on the same lines as me? Why this sudden impartiality to our uncle, who dedicatedly served in our campus for generations? It highlights our trend to discard Indian food which we try to overlook while opening both our hands to American fast food? Are we not ashamed of ourselves? Maybe!
We are aware samosa and pizza are made up of the refined flour, samosa has an Indian progeny, while the other has a borrowed tint.
At the turn of the building, we aimlessly walked towards the celebration venue, I could see the board written.
“Warm Welcome! Launching US pizza with wide varieties of toppings.”
We watched helplessly as a group of youngsters walked past us gulping down the pizza down their throat.
I paused for a while, my thoughts began to rewind
“Our world is changing
Our tastes buds are changing
Our preferences changing.
Setting aside our traditional snacks
Succumbing to Western foodies”
Will, there be a resurrection
But my thoughts got drowned among the hilarious yelling of the modern generation dancing to the tune of drumbeats.
The seed of,the biggest would be Banyan tree has jumped out from the heart of the author, the idea and the real meaning of which could not be grasped by this poor reader as such he prays to the Almighty God to allow this author to bring out the real Banyan tree.
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