Meena Bhatnagar | Batch of 1996

Rewind. 15 years ago. Replay.

My brain has been playing scenes in my head for some time now; since the time we have been connecting with seniors, juniors and many others we have never met in our lives. The only common thread running through all our lives are the little words called “IHM Kovalam”…. The passion and the sense of belonging we share have been reignited with such vigour, because a handful of ex-students pursued the creation and sustenance of an alumni group. Firstly, a huge thanks to these foresighted individuals, who saw that we needed each other, much before we realised it ourselves!

Now, for a few memories that spring to life as soon as the word ‘Kovcats’ is mentioned:

  • Laughing at the face of adversity – From ‘sessions’ with our seniors to the prospects of failing a year, to getting beaten up by unfriendly local population, not getting a job….
  • Wearing a sari, or tying a chef scarf. Also washing them, ironing them and stealing whatever piece we had lost!
  • Sleeping sitting in class, standing up, heck – even with our eyes open- an art mastered after intensive training in the Samudra classrooms, especially after the challenging lunch!
  • Honing fine skills like Journal writing, scandalous chit writing, dreaming, flirting, caricature and food-tasting – all under a watchful lecturer’s nose
  • Eating fish, meat, rubber… oops beef, and anything resembling food without complaining….
  • Induction of ethyl alcohol into our lives causing many multiple personality disorders…. which then progressed into many million gallons finding their way into our lives!
  • The first time we knew what ‘fluttering heart’ meant… of course, hearts on sleeves, heart aches and heart breaks all followed in due course…..
  • The first time we put our lives (or whatever we thought was worth our lives) in the hands of friends. Fighting someone else’s battles, crying for someone else’s loss, covering someone else’s mistake, paying someone else’s bills…… we had discovered friendship!

There are so many words I would like to write about the little red brick building, and the natural cafeteria, and the many fluttering hearts that beat together in the little red building; but words wouldn’t do justice to our fond memories, would they?

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