My first brush with computers was in Allahabad, during the first year of my graduation in the late 90s. The exposure to a giant, greasy pale yellow machine at that time seemed to be a delight.
At the agriculture university where most classes discussed lifecycle of crops, primary constituents of milk or best practices of feeding piglets, computer classes were like a picnic.
The powerful moving visuals, air-conditioned ambience and the excitement of checking your Yahoo mail in the lone desktop powered by mostly dysfunctional dial-up connection, it was fun.
Most of us never got more than a few minutes to touch the black, almost broken key boards, but it was pleasure anyways. The computer session also saw the unlikely pairing of people who were desperate to share a computer overcoming all earthly distinctness.
Like the always fighting conservative Malayali Christian boy and equally conservative Bihari Brahmin, the sophisticated chiffon clad Lucknowi girl and the rustic paan chewing Jaunpuri boy.
Years of differentiation, cultural egos and heartfelt irritation melted for a short while every Saturday at 12 P.M Indian Standard Time, when the computer classes began. The vivid memories of the computer classes come back as I discover more of my graduation tribe on the Facebook or Twitter.