Chapter 2 : Eyes Full of Dreams

In college, I often dreamed of becoming a lecturer like the one who taught us—captivated by the way he wrote on the blackboard with a piece of chalk. As exams approached, our home would turn into a mini tutorial college. We painted one wall of the verandah black, to use as a board, and my classmates and I would study together from morning till night. Those days were full of energy and laughter. My classmates were my students, and the lecturer in me slowly began to awaken. I would teach, and they would listen attentively; I would write, and they would take notes. From the outside, it looked exactly like a classroom.

People from the village often stopped by to watch us study, smiling as they left. Our B.Sc. results proved that teamwork really worked. After graduation, I was convinced I would become a lecturer. How innocent I was!

I applied to several universities—Benaras, Bombay, and Andhra. Andhra University, Vizag, offered me a seat in Bio-Sciences, while Bombay University (now Mumbai University) accepted me for Mycology and Plant Pathology. When I asked my lecturers for advice, they all said that Mycology and Plant Pathology was an excellent field. My elder brother and father agreed. And that decided it—my father and I set off for Bombay together!

 

Endless Tears: 

    I still remember the days when I was a student at Bombay University. I got a room in the government hostel, which was close to the university. The hostel was on Church Gate C Road, and the famous Wankhede Stadium was on B Road, just adjacent to it. I was pursuing my Master's Degree in Science from the prestigious “Institute of Science College.” This college has a great history. But I felt a bit uneasy being called a "Madrasie" (a term used to refer to someone from the Madras region). But most North Indians called all South Indians as Madrasies, as they were unaware of the different states in the South.

 

    After getting admitted to the hostel, my father left to Nandigama. That night, I realized how much I missed home. I felt like crying. I couldn't speak any language other than Telugu.  I only got average marks in English. Moreover, not many people in Nandigama spoke English. Will my dream of completing MSc and becoming a lecturer come true? I remembered the lyrics from a song written by Telugu cinema lyricist Atreya, "Kalalu kaney kallu unnayi, avi kalatapadithe neellu unnayi" (We have eyes that dream, and tears when those dreams get realised.)

As I tried to wipe away my tears, a soft knock sounded at the door. When I opened it, two seniors were there, introducing themselves as Telugu students. They greeted me with warmth and genuine kindness, immediately putting me at ease in that unfamiliar place. Though they often teased me, it was always in good humour — their laughter became the first bridge to friendship in my new world.

Under their guidance, I slowly shed my shyness and grew into a confident young man — a change I will always be grateful for. Those were the days of bell-bottom pants and hippie culture. Among my closest friends was Karimuddin, my classmate and constant companion. His support never wavered, and our friendship, forged in those early days, has withstood the test of time — we remain close even today.

Value of money:

    During my days at Bombay University, my father would send me Rs 300, every month through a money order, which would take 5 to 10 days to arrive. I had to be careful with my expenses, including hostel fees, college fees, and textbooks. I even opened a savings account at the State Bank of India to save some money every month. With those savings, I would buy toys and clothes for my elder brother’s children when I went home for the holidays.

   There was another option called the Telegram Money Order, but it was quite expensive. I sometimes wonder if my grandsons would even believe me if I told them how we used to send and receive money through post offices in the 1980s. Many of those postal services no longer exist today. Times have changed, and technology has raced ahead. Now, money travels across the world in seconds — a far cry from those days of waiting for the postman.

   I still remember one small but unforgettable incident. When I went to Bombay with my father, we stayed in a modest lodge near the railway station. We had just enough money to pay my college fees, but not enough to settle the lodge bill. Seeing my worry, my father said calmly, “Don’t worry, we’ll send a telegram home asking them to send a money order.”

I waited anxiously for it to arrive. On the second day, when I asked the postman, he smiled and said, “It’s here.” What a relief that was! We met the lodge and other expenses, and my father left that night by train.

It was during those days that I learned the value of money, the importance of saving, and the quiet satisfaction of living within one’s means.

 I had a strong desire to become a lecturer and win an award for being an outstanding teacher. I had big dreams, but destiny had its own plans. After completing my MSc, I was idle for a while, and my friend Bandaru Bhringeswara Rao suggested starting a small tuition center. However, due to financial constraints, it remained closed after a brief run of just two months. 

Despite the challenges and obstacles, I continued to move forward with determination and perseverance. Yes, life is a journey, and one must keep moving forward, no matter what comes one’s way. 

 

Foot notes:

Cricket:

 I was always passionate about cricket, though I never got the chance to play for my school or college team. During my high school days, I did play occasionally, but I was usually sent to stand far out near the boundary line — well away from the real action. Truth be told, I didn’t mind it much; I preferred keeping a safe distance from the ball, fearing it might come flying toward me!

But fate gave me another kind of cricketing experience — as a spectator. In 1979, I got the opportunity to watch a Test match between India and Pakistan at the Wankhede Stadium in Bombay. Our student group received a special concession to attend one day of the five-day match. I still remember the excitement of seeing Imran Khan, leading the Pakistan team, and Kapil Dev, captaining India — two legends of the game, right before my eyes.

More than four decades later, I found myself watching another Test match — this time between India and England at Trent Bridge in 2022. I attended the first day of the match with my son, Rajesh, and as I sat there, memories of that day at Wankhede replayed in my mind. Time had changed everything — the players, the grounds, even me — yet the thrill of cricket remained just as alive as it was all those years ago.