Finding Clementina

I would call her Clementina. A name that struck me at first sight. Fourteen years ago. Engraved on the tomb where the real one was laid ; in the graveyards of B E College campus.

Seldom would one find a graveyard bang at the centre of a college, that too within a premier engineering institute in the country. B E College has it by virtue of its 148 years of anglicized heritage. Crowned with gothic structures, laid with verdant verdures and filled with careless whispers in the lanes and bylanes that lead to the 13 hostels at our point of time. The graveyard existed nonchalantly on our way, between the Pandya Hall and the classic Clock Tower-the college emblem, and beside the main throughfare within the campus. Never did it invite a glance, though Clementina and the others had been lying there for almost a century now. Unattended and ensconced by her imposing neighbours , the two biggest landmarks of the campus.

Not till it all happened. The need to search for a place to hide the treasure-hunt jackpot . A perfectly confidential spot ; the stakes being pretty high. On a chilly wintry December night therefore, a day before the college festivities were to begin, I set out on a sortie for the coveted point. Alone, with heavy woollens and a torch.

As I approached the Clock Tower, chill in the air intensified. It had to do with the air from infamous pond where Bidisha was found, I thought. I was about to take a detour towards Pandya, to avoid that haunted lane. Then it all struck , like a brilliant idea ! The ghostly stretch of hedges and bushes that laid at the crossroads within the confines of a small boundary-wall. The graveyard.

Fog descended as I approached. Visibility was low, except for the few streetlamps that were hardly lit in those wee hours. It was pitch dark at the boxing ring. The nightguards whistled faraway from the ‘lovers lane’.

I stumbled at the first grave . It was too open and almost in ruins. Not the right place to hide, I reckoned, for a smart crack. As I went deeper inside the bushes grew thicker beneath my feet. The torch could rarely flash on a tomb now; there were a couple of movements spotted instead. Snakes I guessed. Negotiating my way forward, I crossed Richardson, Macdonald and Wolfenden – now donning hostel names.

I found Clementina after a exhausting survey, in a secluded area of the graveyard, relatively free from encroaching bushes but a pretty difficult approach way. The moment the torchlight flashed on the idyllic fonts of her name I had decided my spot. Catching up my breath now, I caressed the engravings to remove the mud and dust that had taken the sheen out of her beauty. Impending darkness around ran a shiver down the spine as I tried to relive the day in 1907 when she was laid to rest .

The treasure hunt did not end at the graveyard. When frantic search-parties began turning the graveyard upside down, I had to quietly slip out the jackpot from the chamber beneath her structure and place it on the tree beside the canteen. A last minute change to give her the peace and tranquility she’s used to all these years. The jackpot was easily found thereafter.

There was something in the name that brought me back to her tomb again and again in the four years that I studied there. Always during our late night sojourns. The uncanny sense of belonging somewhere, the thrill of feeling haunted and above all the beauty of the name drew me to her grave time and again.

Today, as I begin to narrate the story of one of the memorable phases of my life that began around the same time in the same campus, Clementina would be her name, as ‘she’ remains with me – now and forever !