When the Old And Beloved becomes New And Banal

This piece has been written by Avanthika Venkatesh (B.A.,LL.B. Batch of 2028) and the picture has also been taken by Avanthika. It seeks to express what the OAB (Old Academic Block) felt like to students like her who've had the fortune to experience the comfort and peace it had to offer, before its partial demolition and redevelopment.

“It physically hurts when someone says ‘OAB redevelopment’”, my friend said as we walked out of the building after our last class in the Old Academic Block. I didn’t think we would end up nostalgic about the OAB while we were still at NLS, but here we are. When we come back the next trimester, it won’t be the same anymore. About 40% of the OAB will be demolished, and the rest will be “upgraded” to ensure more “meaningful use” of the block and the space around it. But perhaps, one might think that the students who use the OAB know what meaningful use of it truly is.

At the outset, I belong to one of the batches that witnessed the downfall of the block. From wondering what quad parties looked like before joining NLS, to getting kicked out of the OAB at 7pm on the day of our Fresher’s - we realised that it wasn’t the same anymore. And yet, the OAB had its charm. With its “sarkari-college” vibe, it stands majestically with its signature red and off-white walls though now faded, the uneven grass on the quad, and the lush-green trees planted by scholars and politicians all around.      

The block is also uniquely mysterious yet calming- it took me about three days to figure out all of its entrances when I first came to NLS. Just in my second year, I discovered that it had a mini-conference room – who knows what else the block holds hidden in its nooks and corners. I have my favourite classrooms too: OAB 104 tops my board, with the pretty mural right in front of it, the view from the window to the basketball court, and the picturesque greenery outside. OAB 101 is nice too, with the newspaper stands right in front of it. These classrooms are also not shaped in the traditional square and bare manner; their signature pentagonal shape has always been, to me, a symbolic way of the OAB making me think beyond the four walls to the fifth. But it’s not that we don’t hate parts of it; I have not heard a single person say good about classrooms like 202 and 302. Well, I must say, the chairs are indeed unbearable.

The OAB quad requires an essay of its own - having witnessed everything from the respite that people feel coming into the quad during the 10 minute breaks, casual hangouts, quad parties, the innumerable fests, celebrations, univ weeks, nls balls, flash mobs, and whatever else happened before I came into this university. The canteen, with its sweet staff checking on you every time you go up for a coffee, creates a feeling that nothing can beat.

Yet, we have seen that even the OAB has gone through changes.  New classrooms were made, the manual bell that signed the relief when class ended was replaced with a screeching mechanical one. All events held in the quad earlier started being held in the amphitheater. Every big lecture used to happen in Krishnappa Hall; now, the fancy and “accessible” NAB classrooms are preferred over it. Yes, alright, the NAB has better chairs, mics, and so on. But to be honest, even the NAB feels lifeless and monotonous - lacking colour, familiarity, and a sense of belonging. If being in the ‘new old academic block’ would mean anything close to what the NAB feels like, I pity those who have not enjoyed the comfort that OAB gives to one. The asymmetric benches and tables with their tapered edges reassure that not everything in life has to be straight and upright – you are allowed to be imperfect. They are placed closer together too – something very minute, but for me this means one more conversation and one more friend you can make with the people who sit near you. The faded red and off-white walls give a touch of colour to the university – it ensures that not everything life has to be black-and-white; and that often, we wander somewhere in the  grey. These classrooms and quad are the spaces where the mind is truly without fear.

I remember walking up the stairs at the entrance for the first time. I read the words “NLSIU” - and at the end of my second year, I can still say that every time I’ve entered the OAB, I’ve been overwhelmed by feelings - starting with achievement, which over time transformed into gratitude, and now into nostalgia. Apparently, convocations used to happen in the quad until 2001 - now one can only imagine the number of luminaries who graduated from this university, who walked the same corridors as us, and graduated in the very quad that will no longer remain the same when we return next month. It is not just the building that is being reconstructed. The university life of all these alumni that lie silently as the walls of the OAB store them in memory for us. Soon, they will break into pieces and perhaps be replaced by the curse of minimalism.

I am not sure if I will see the OAB in full again in my three years left here, it hurts to even think that the bricks that make up this graceful building would be destroyed and rebuilt. Development is inevitable - my only hope in writing this is that the OAB is retained in institutional memory for what it meant to all of us. Dear OAB, you shall be missed.