COLLEGE CAPERS

The exhausting traffic snarls take the wind out of you due to which I rarely visit the far flung southern part of the city anymore. It was a random occasion for my journey out there and as my car sped from Victoria Terminus towards Crawford market, my heart skipped a beat as I was passing by the iconic art college where I had studied. It stirred a whole lot of emotions and memories which leaped out of oblivion.
As I peered through the windshield, my eyes fell on the wide gates thru which the distinct promenade and majestic architecture of the prestigious college came into full view.
If one wanted to study art then this was the best college to go to. You had students from all strata of society, right from the elite to the underprivileged.I enjoyed the best of both worlds being in the golden middle. That shaped me into being very comfortable in my own skin and made me believe that it is okay to be or not to be class or brand conscious and go by the adage " to each his own".
I had a whirlwind romance with the college complete with picturesque surroundings and immersed  in the experiences and friendships that enriched me.
Much to our delight, our meagre monthly allowance accommodated two matinee movies, a substandard nail polish; never mind the fact that it got chipped off within hours; and a visit to Badshah cold drink house which was round the corner. We felt regal splurging on the above.
On our study tours to museums and art galleries in South Bombay, we would dart across to Samovar to soak in the ambience and linger over a cup of tea to gawk at the arty crowd in their carefully casual garb making a fashion statement. The walks down Colaba causeway during lunch breaks were the add-on frills to the existing fabric of the college. The roadside wares, the exquisite knickknacks on display were the highlights of window shopping.
Howard Roark was a hero and Ayn Rand a rage to suit our idyllic sensibilities.
The kolhapuri chappals were the mainstay of my college years; close to my heart, close to my heels, the complete thrill of having to take a decision on the roadside, wether to get it polished to a darker hue or to leave it in its existing splendour.
Such simple innocent decisions as against the hard hitting ones one has to take these days.
As I sped past the silhouettes of South Bombay, everything was getting blurred. I was desperate to cling to more glimpses and memories. All the landmarks stood quietly still and I realised wistfully that something was amiss. The kolhapuri chappals don't sit pretty at my feet anymore and along with Samovar, which no longer exists, my youth belonged to the bygone era too.