As I travel on the reverse path to the period of 1967-1971 of the last century, when I was a student of College of Agriculture, Dharwad, I am overcome with indescribable feelings, thoughts and emotions. After all, man is basically an emotional being; and emotions add colour and spice to human life. Bereft of emotions, life seems to be dull, lifeless, and barren to a human; in fact, life is simply unlivable and unbearable.
I am the same old K.V. Venkataramana Gowda whose I.D.No. was A 168, while studying in the College of Agriculture, and after a gap of 38 years, I am still the same person as far as my affection, intimacy, courtesy, and respect are concerned with regard to my fellow-classmates, teachers and members of the non-teaching staff.  I still remember many of the names of my teachers and friends.
Dr S.W.Mensinkai, who was our first Director of Instruction of the college (and now, alas! he’s no more.), still rules my consciousness as I transport myself to the student-days of my college life. He had taught us not only Botany, but also elegant English (though not as a regular English professor); all students and members of the staff loved to listen to him with rapt attention as he shared his inspiring thoughts with us, and motivated us, when he addressed us on numerous occasions, in his impeccable English. I still remember what he had said in a class, when we were in doubt whether 12 O’clock in the day should be referred to as 12 A.M. or 12 P.M. (He said 12 O’clock should be mentioned as 12 noon.) On another occasion, when one more test had to be conducted for the students of our class in his subject, as many could not take the previous test, we had requested him to consider the score of “the best of the two” tests for our internal assessment. Dr. Mensinkai then corrected us promptly with a “the better of the two”. As he was educated in the U.K., he had a perfect mastery over the English language, and wanted his students, too, to speak and write flawless English .
Every year Dr. Mensinkai used to address us on the occasion of Independence Day and Republic Day after unfurling the national tricolour. He used to read out his speech, running to more than ten pages, in a clear well-modulated voice, which contained lots of statistics, culled from various sources, pertaining to the progress the country had achieved in every sphere of activity till that period; a cyclostyled copy of his speech was displayed on the notice Board the following day, for the benefit of students and staff, which remained there until the next Republic day/Independence day, when the text of his latest speech replaced the earlier one. I think the texts of his long speeches that were delivered during those years (1967-71), if brought out in a book-form now, would make a wonderful reading of great historical significance. Let me humbly salute his hallowed memory, on this occasion!
In July 1967, when I joined the college, it was the monsoon season. It used to drizzle off and on, every day, rendering the soil sodden and sticky. During winter, weather used to be chilly; but in the summer, weather was extremely pleasant, and the cool breeze in the evenings was refreshingly invigorating.
In those days, during our first year, four students were accommodated per room in the hostel and all the students had to take cold-water bath to which many could not adjust, as there were no water-heaters. However, when we were into the final year, our hostel had a new building (block) added to it, and hot water facility was provided to all students for their bath; by that time, our warmth for one another, too, had increased.
How I feel I had enough time and space to recount my experiences of my college life! Yet, I wish to narrate here only two incidents pertaining to my two professors. The first was in the year 1979 when I was working at Syndicate Bank, Haliyal, as Rural Development Officer. I had been to Sunticoppa, near Madikeri, on a brief holiday, to bring back my wife and child, three months after my wife had been delivered of a baby girl. On our way back, we travelled to Mysore by car and, from Mysore to Alnawar, we travelled by train, Alnawar being the nearest railhead to Haliyal. As the train left the Mysore station, I was pleasantly surprised to see Dr. K. Krishnamurthi, who was the Associate Professor of Psychology in our college, seated in front of us on the long wooden seat, in our compartment; my wife and I were seated opposite to him, with our child sleeping in a corner of our seat. I could (and did) recognize Dr. Krishnamurthi who was one of my most beloved professors in the college, and who also took a lot of interest in my academic progress; he made it a point to attend all the elocution/debating contests held in the college, regularly, and often sat on the last bench, just to listen to my speech as if to encourage/applaud me (he used to disappear soon after my turn of speaking in the contest was over). I think he had a special liking for me after he came to know through Prof. Balarama Gupta, the then Assistant Professor of English, that I had scored 98/100 in English subject in one of the trimesters of my first year. But, somehow, for some strange reason, (maybe because I thought he would not be able to recognize me after a gap of 8 years since I had left the college, or, perhaps, I was basically a shy person who felt it uncomfortable to talk to my professor in front of my wife and child, I did not greet him, nor took the initiative to converse with him.
After 29 years of my meeting him on that day, I rue my folly of not talking to him, on that occasion, in spite of the fact that he had been my friend-philosopher- and-guide during my student days. I only crave his indulgence now, for my grave lapse, wherever he is now.
The second incident pertains to the year 1986. I was working as Agricultural Development Officer at Zonal Office of Syndicate Bank, Mangalore. I had been to Madras, as a delegate, to attend the 1X World Congress of Poets, organized by World Academy of Arts and Culture, USA, which was inaugurated by the then Vice-President of India, Sri R.Venkataraman. On my return journey, I stayed at Bangalore, in my friend’s house, and the next day morning, I was walking on the overbridge near Kempegowda Bus Station, when, suddenly, I encountered Prof. S.C.Hiremath, who had taught me Agricultural Economics in the college. I greeted him smilingly, and introduced myself to him, in Kannada, thus: “I am K.V. Venkataramana Gowda, your old student. I graduated in 1971.” Prof Hiremath was happy and surprised to see me, and exclaimed: ”Oh! I still remember you; only two days ago, I had quoted your name to my students and told: ”There was one Venkataramana Gowda in our college who used to take part in debates on Cooperation at the Inter-collegiate as well as at the Inter-University level, and won several prizes in the contests.” My joy knew no bounds when I heard his remarks, for I had never ever thought earlier that my achievements in college, as a student,  would leave such an imprint on his mind. This incident, hopefully, reflects the love, affection and attachment a teacher has for his beloved pupil, even after 15 years of a student walking out of the portals of a college, while the previous incident, sadly, reflects a student’s failure, for whatever reason, in openly admitting to his professor that he was his (professor’s) student in his college days, after many years of his graduation, or when the professor is unable to remember his student with the passage of time.