The joke goes: Only those who were not sick, insane or criminally inclined survived the trip and got an education in one of the best institutions for higher studies.

Some of the women who survived that tonga trip, the partition and the ups and downs of life, are now packing their bags to visit their alma mater once again. Alumni in India are going to take a trip down memory lane when they walk through the corridors of Kinnaird and participate in old students' day celebrations, starting February 26 in Lahore.

As the OAKS, which is what the alumni are called, prepare for the trip, out from the boxes come memorabilia, old photographs, the college magazine, letters and nostalgia.

``This is the picture of the cast of the production Barrets of Wimpole Street,'' recalls Jamila Verghese. ``We had a remarkable theatre group and this play was staged in 1947. In fact, this was the first time we did the play in purdah, which meant that it was not open to men. This decision was taken in the wake of the political turmoil then, just before partition.''

Recalling bitter-sweet memories of life in the Kinnaird hostel, Lalita Narain says: ``Rati (Bartholomew) was our senior student (head girl) and her room was two-three rooms beyond mine. I would often get into trouble for singing loudly or whistling a tune.'' Bartholomew promptly points out that at Kinnaird, the teachers expected their students to be responsible. Narain agrees, adding that Bartholomew would come up to her later and tell her that the tune she was humming was nice.

The banter continues as the gathering of ladies in the Verghese residence go through old pictures, reconstructing their collective past. ``The teacher- student contact at Kinnaird has always been a cherished memory,'' says Krishna Gupta, Honorary Secretary of OAKS (India). ``Miss McNair would often call us all to her room for coffee, cookies and music. Miss Porter would read Browning to us.''

The group smiles in collective recollection. ``Remember how enthusiastically we sang in the college choir every morning,'' asks Priyo Batra. ``We did it as enthusiastically as when we were required to recite the Granth Sahib. There was no animosity and religion was never an issue in Kinnaird.''

Prem K. Krishnan adds: ``In fact, when there was all this talk about Partition, I remember we had heated debates. We found the very thought that Partition would mean some of us would have to go to India crazy. The fact that we would require a visa to visit Kinnaird sounded absurd then.''

But Partition happened and many of the 200 students studying in Kinnaird came to India without completing their course. Later this month, some of them are going to go back, to relive the memory.

Chandra Malhotra, who has visited Kinnaird since Partition says: ``The college now has a swimming pool, teaches Science courses also and has expanded. But the spirit is the same.'' Narain penned down these feelings in a poem she wrote sometime back -- from describing their teacher Sera Thomas' bun to the hymns Miss Simons taught them. A poem which has now become an anthem every time OAKS meet and puts into words what they all cherish in their hearts -- the ``happy, carefree days at Kinnaird''.

Sadiyon puran apna yeh bandhan, kaise na aayein jab koi apna pukare Narain recites, explaining the ties that still bind all OAKS to the Kinnaird College for Women in Lahore.