They started the academic year in Khanpur in June. My father had left his family village and was there on a scholarship, but they only had liberal arts and no sciences. He wanted to study science.
Some fellow students told him about Aligarh. They said he should go there and study science. And Aligarh started in October, so he still had time.
My dad decided to leave Khanpur, but it was evidently a delicate thing. His cousin had to send him a telegram that said to come home and to bring all his things.
The math department chair heard that he was leaving and offered him a larger scholarship. My dad said he wanted to study science at Aligarh, and the chairman understood. You see, he went to school at Aligarh.
So he left Khanpur and in the fall enrolled at Aligarh.
He told me this, my father did, sitting in his living room a lifetime later. He was sitting across from me, and I was furiously scribbling notes on paper and watching him talk.
He got a distant gaze in his eyes.
Maybe he was remembering those few days in Khanpur. Or maybe he was remembering his classmates there. Or the math department chair. Or his cousin. Or maybe he was remembering walking onto the campus of Aligarh Muslim University the day he first arrived.
“Oh those days,” my father sighed.