“So how was it?’
Asked my Dad, as he drove me out of the PJ Gate.I looked back at the College for the ‘final glimpse’ and found a plethora of emotions welled up inside me.Irealised that my own school would be seen differently by me now....it’ll not be the same and that is exactly what happened..it seemed my Dad’s question wasn’t so easy after all.My almost moist eyes were an amalgamation of feelings of being joyous and poignant..Yet I couldn’t guess why the four letters RIMCmeant so much to me.
RIMC or The Rashtriya Indian Millitary College(original name was The Prince of Wales Royal Indian Military College but re-named later) is a prestigious institution for boys
situated in the beautiful Doon Valley of Dehradun .Taking only 25 cadets in the six month term and with fixed admission of only 1kid per state, the school enjoys a great tradition as a feeder institution for the National Defence Academy and subsequently the Indian Armed Forces. Rimcollians, the name by which alumni of the RIMC are usually denoted, have gone on to hold the highest ranks in the Army, Navy and the Air Force.
My Dad a fighter pilot , currently a serving officer in the IndianAirforce is a pass out from the RIMC. Dad o’ways talked with great passion about his school which I could never relate to since I wasn’t all that passionate about mine.I used to rather find it funny when at random parties he would meet a stranger and after conversing with him realise that he was aRimcollian and then he would not be a stranger any longer.The camaraderie these rimcos share is amazing and now I too enjoy every iota of watching them celebrate!
Attending the passing out ceremony and talking to varied cadets taught me something..
This small journey had been an eye opener for me as I discovered myself.After meeting these cadets I learnt the joy of pushing and pushing myself’and then the satisfaction of ultimately emerging victorious.Ihad learnt to challenge myself beyond limits.
But in their journey what made it all the more invaluable for these guys was the memories of the special people they shared them with.Standing on the other side now iwould like to tell you that these cadets have been divided into 4sections and practically their lives our divided by these sections..
The pearls of sweat with the juniors and seniors alike on the grounds,the dorm bearing a silent testimony of these precocious cadets, the gates of their innumerable CB’s, the euphoria of winning a Cup with section mates as well as taking defeats in their strides--everything like a family ..
And above all what made it all the more interesting were the people who taught each other the unwritten values of friendship and accepted each other for what they were-‘course mates..’ Their never ending ‘lotteries’,their kitroom adventures and the rolling on bajri-- was a journey for these termers from “Greenhorns to Gentlemen”.
Well one thing I was sure of, that these memoirs are my philosopher’s stone turning every obstacle into an opportunity only for that quitessential spirit called RIMC.
Perhaps I now had the answer to my Dad’s question .I said “Thanks Dad…”
Cheers RIMC
Signing off
Archita Ahluwalia
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