Flat No: D 313 Pragati Vihar

Pragati Vihar – I am sure looking at the title the reader may think, Wow! It’s like a cinema title – Ghar No. 750; Gaadi No. 412. It’s not a movie title. In the summer, approximately the month of May, 1983, I completed Intermediate examination (+2) from the AP Residential Junior College, Nagarjuna Sagar, Krishna district. I topped the then AP state. My father gave Rs. 1000, talked to his friend in Delhi over phone to whom he informed, ‘My son is coming to Delhi to take admission in the undergraduate course offered by the Delhi University. Please take care of him’.

I was told that Delhi will be cold, hence I carried woollens. In May, Delhi is burning hot! The only language I knew was Telugu…with no knowledge of English or Hindi. Rs 1000/- in pocket and a blue iron rusted trunk in hand and a second class railway ticket for the Andhra Pradesh (AP) Express which leaves from Secundrabad junction. When the train crossed Andhra Pradesh, I did not understand the languages spoken by the people beyond AP – such as Marathi / Hindi.

36 hours later I reached Delhi. Got down, as instructed, at Hazrat Nizamuddin railway station. The train stops for 2 minutes…took my blue trunk in a hurry. I never saw my father’s friend before nor spoken to him. How to recognise him? After 10 tensed minutes of waiting, a man while approaching asked ‘Gopal’? The gentleman’s name was Mr. Partha Sarathi. He was a senior officer in MMTC – Minerals and Metals Trading Corporation. From Hazrat Nizamuddin station his house is 5 minutes away. We took an auto to reach his flat. It was a nice beautiful apartment, Flat No: D-313 – Block D, 3rd floor. Mr. Partha Sarathi was a bachelor and I heard that he died as bachelor in 2015. He never married. I remember him well…he was bald at the top and has long shoulder length hair from the sides. 5’3” in height. Smiling face. Beautiful man. At peace with himself.

Half an hour later and on reaching home, he simply said, “Gopal, I am going to office. You make yourself comfortable. Rest today. Off he went! Alone, at a new place, with a heavy blue trunk!! Next day he showed the bus stop. Delhi Transport Corporation (DTC) route nos: 210, 220 and 240 – from Pragati Vihar Lodhi Road to to Delhi University.

I went to Delhi university to apply in various colleges. I also applied in St. Stephens college and secured admission. A week or 10 days later, Mr. Partha sarathi enquired:

Did you get admission?
I said ‘yes’.
Which college?
S.T. Sephens.
What?
I repeated.

He laughed and while laughing he corrected it is not S.T Stephens. St stand for Saint.
There was an imperceptible nod of appreciation in acknowledgement of my achievement. As it was a Sunday, he asked ‘What would you like to eat?’ I said whatever you make sir. He made pesarattu. Pesarattu is like Dosa made of grinded green gram (moong dal). I never ate Pesarattu before. Actually, he grinded the gram paste with his hands on the stone mortar and pestle grinding. We enjoyed and celebrated my admission. He said do you know what St. Stephens means? It means 50% of becoming IAS. I simply stared at him…without comprehending.

38 years passed. In February 2021, I visited D-313, Pragathi Vihar. Same rooms. The dining table, I recall very vividly, is the same. The sofa set – the cushions changed on the teak sofa set but it is the same. I could feel it with my being. The same balcony. 38 years ago I stood there and stared at a girl in the opposite balcony! How can this be possible? Now standing there, in the same balcony, I searched for the non-existent girl! Tiles are changed in the bathroom, but the bathroom is the same. Kitchen remained the way it was. I slept for 2 weeks in the same place where I slept 38 years ago. I stood in the same balcony where I stood 38 years ago. Am I crazy? Is this a hallucination? Is it a coincidence? Is it a divine design of God? Have I grown old?

The resident and my host of the flat asked ‘Are you sure it is the same flat?’. I replied affirmative. How can I be so sure? When I got admission to St. Stephens, my father sent Rs. 3000 through TMO – telegraphic money order. On one fine afternoon the postman, whose face I cannot remember but I can recall the dialogue I had with him, asked ‘what is your name?’ I replied Raja Gopal Reddy. Which flat do you live in? I remember my reply D-313. Are you expecting a money order? I said I was expecting Rs 3000 from my father – which in 1983 is big money. Thus, I remember the entire conversation and the flat number too. Having satisfied himself, the postman asked me to sign for the receipt of money. This dialogue is very vivid in my mind. Therefore, I cannot be wrong about D-313.

Have I grown old? No. I can grow old only when I accept time as divided by the society – past, present & future. I do not accept time. I am the same man, standing in the same flat looking at all the corners of the flat. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change. I agree that the existence must have willed that I should visit the flat after 38 years. Purpose? When I find it out, I will let you know.

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