by Dilip Ahuja _______________________________________________________________

About a hundred of us attended the 25th year reunion at IIT Bombay on December 21st, 1997. Each of us came away with valid impressions. One sketchy personal account of the event follows, written primarily for those who could not make it, to convey to them some of the flavour of that gathering.

Most of us arrived through the portico in the main building. The first thing we noticed there weren’t any carps swimming where we were used to seeing them, testifying no doubt to the difficulty of maintaining a stagnant body of water in tropical climes. Climbing the stairs we came to the registration area in front of the notice boards. All of us were given white T-shirts to wear with the IIT logo, partly to aid recognition and partly for the same reason school uniforms are favoured.

All of us milled around in the area surrounding the registration desk. This provided opportunity for first contact, handshakes, hugs, questions and sometimes disbelief. The questions were generally similar, relating to career paths and families. It was remarkable how in some instances, recognition was instantaneous even when we had not thought about another for 25 years. Having been his guinea pig in an experiment on hypnotism, I was happy to see Dinesh Arya again. Recognition wasn’t always mutual. Some of us had changed much, having grayed, lost lots of hair, and more than amply replaced the loss with so much adipose tissue that recognition became difficult. Ashok Mulani couldn’t believe it was Khandekar that he was meeting, and they were once roommates. All of us missed not seeing some who didn’t make it. I had hoped to run into Vijay Kalanjee.

"Do you know what Bhaskar is doing these days?" Sankar asked me.

"I believe he is in Madras writing poetry."

Suspecting a hint of disapproval in my reply, Sankar retorted, "As long as he is happy, we ought not to be judgmental."

"Absolutely."

IIT had organized several events for alumni during the morning before lunch. Visits to the campus, to Powai lake, to IIT’s website. We were so engrossed in exchanging notes that these events were grossly under-subscribed. Later I was told that they were intended for the families of other alumni (non-25 -year ones). As at any good party, groups formed and dissolved. Someone asked Bongo (Sarin) if he was still living in the States. "No, I came back in 1975. I went there for the same reason as people who watch Baywatch. Once that was accomplished, I came back." As we were being joined by Noorjehan, looking more gorgeous than ever, Bongo chimed: "Oh there’s Noor, the object of all our fantasies." While demurring that it was not quite true, Noor did compliment Bongo on the sexiness of his wife.

The lunch was in a shamiana put up in front of the lecture theatre. The food as always was forgetful and the conversations more interesting . Professor Isaac recounted to Ashok Mulani how he once had a student who coaxed the Russian Minsk-II computer to play tick-tac-toe, not realizing it was Ashok who-done-it. Lunch was followed by the main "function". Gita flawlessly delivered a carefully scripted welcome address and Daffy was the master of ceremonies, having had the benefit of attending a similar re-union the previous year. By virtue of his prolonged separation anxiety from the Institute, he will have the benefit of attending at least three more consecutive silver reunions. As MC, Daffy was superb.

The 25-year old alumni were upstaged by the 10-year olds. The 1987 batch, flourishing mostly in Silicon Valley, first presented a cheque for a million rupees to the Institute. Their bonds to the Institute are perhaps stronger and the credit they give the Institute for their current well-being greater. The Director, Professor Suhas Sukhatme made a (fairly typical) glowing speech about the Institute’s accomplishments, potential and promise, to which Daffy had the perfect one-liner. "I had no idea that I had gone to such a nice institution."

The afternoon was a celebration of the divergent paths that boys of our batch had taken. The girls seemed to have followed had fairly straightforward and predictable patterns. There were boys from our batch who were manufacturing and selling children’s garments, fruit drinks, installing swimming pools in the middle east, and breeding race horses. (What Maclai has single-handedly done was not included in the list.) Coupled with the fact that everyone in the little group at hostel that I was a part of chose non-engineering careers (computer science, math, physics, public health) one was tempted to hold forth on recommending increasing the generalist content in IIT undergraduate curriculum. However, it was impressive how many of our batch-mates were now running engineering firms of their own. The education they had received had quite obviously had seemed to serve them well.

The highlight of this function was the result of a survey (undertaken soon after registration) of the wives who had come with their IIT husbands. The overwhelming majority felt our defining characteristic was our lack of modesty. It is unbelievable how many of us think ourselves to be God’s very own gift to the world.

After the function we were all invited to go to our respective hostels for tea. The walk to the hostels was pleasant. It was a cloudy and cool December evening. The walk seemed a lot shorter than it did 30 years ago when we felt life in IIT without bikes was unlivable. The hostels were in a much worse shape than the main buildings and it was easy to see why funds for their upkeep were required. The tea was boiling hot, still served in steel cups, and only slightly less insipid than it used to be. I found myself sitting next to Daffy.

"Is the young lady sitting next to you your daughter?" I asked him.

"Yes."

"She is really movie-star quality beautiful."

"She has been asked a few times but has turned down offers to act in films," Daffy replied, " one has to get one’s fundas straight, then one can sell shirts, build swimming pools and breed horses."

Later there was a dinner for us, which provided more opportunities for continuing our conversations. Gita introduced me to her daughter.

"This is Ahuja."

"Pleased to meet you" she said as we shook hands, "I have heard so much about you".

"That’s unlikely, there is Ahuja-the-superior from our class who is more talked about, I am the inferior one." A sheepish grin gave Gita away.

Later, while standing next to Professor Bedford in a line for dinner I said to him to start a conversation: "I believe you taught us field theory".

"In that case, tell me what is the curl of a field."

"It is represented by an ‘X’, more than that I couldn’t have told you on the day I graduated."

"I was just pulling your leg."

It was all good fun. The dinner was followed by a variety entertainment program (the nondescript variety). Several of the non-Bombay visitors were going to stay overnight in the staff hostel. As on weekends during my tenure there, I made an exit. I couldn’t help noticing that students from outside Bombay had bonded more effectively than those of us who decamped from the Institute on weekends. As I was leaving, it struck me how very articulate everyone was that day. One could have had an intelligent conversation with just about anyone from our batch, or any batch for that matter. The lack of modesty never ceases.