As an engineering student in the university of Pune, one is expected to appear for five theory papers each semester with two semesters constituting a year. After the first year the subsequent three years see you appear for an additional three practical or oral examinations each semester. So in order to progress from the preceding year to the next, one is expected to clear at least seven theory and four practical examinations and in addition, a backlog from the alternate preceding year is not allowed to be carried into the next progressive year. Thus, unless you plan on spending a whole year by going on a long vacation and effectively utilizing it on something productive like a world tour you had better take your education pretty seriously!
Me of course had to disbelieve the wise advice from my seniors and learn my lessons the hard way. Sound advice really doesn’t make it past my eardrums and for some reason I tend to treat it more in terms of sound rather than advice. Not that I regret it, I have forged some strong friendships and learnt some important lessons, which have made me a much smarter (?) and stronger (?) individual. So, after having gotten my first taste of freedom in the first year, the second year began with total abandon. A large part of the year was spent in bunking classes, playing cricket and most importantly- exploring the banks of the Khadakwasla Lake!
The year started off with all my friends suddenly deciding on leaving the hostel. It was a rather rude shock because I really did not expect them to be packing off and leaving for the lures of city life. With all the trouble we had gotten in the first year, I really could not comprehend what they intended to find away form the hostel. I mean where else would you be able to wake up five minutes before the college bell rang and still manage to reach college in time for the first lecture? (which was a rare case anyways cause at the hostel you generally got up five minutes after the college bell rang and would be lucky if you made it ten minutes before the first lecture was over...but lets not get there!) Certainly they couldn’t be thinking of leaving all the troubles and tiffs we were having with the hostel staff and especially not after we had managed to drive the rector out of the hostel to take up a more relaxing position as a faculty! It was disappointing to learn that as the days progressed, people were seriously thinking about running away. Well anyway, what could I do? After all everyone has a choice and loves to live life on their own terms.
I guess the reason they were all in a mood to take such a decision was probably that none of us could tell for sure whether or not we would progress to the second year… ah well, so be it I thought, at least they would have to wait for a couple of weeks till we got our results. (Just to clarify their stand, let me fill you in on a few details: Of the group of fifteen, six did not make it into the second year, barring two, all the others managed to scrape through by the skin of their teeth with at least two papers for backlogs.) Right, so now that you have the other side of the story let me clarify mine. The first year was more fun than a barrel full of monkeys!
Ok, ok... so I am not justified but that’s not the point here. Anyway, so began the second year. I had a lot of money in my account for the hostel fees and as the expenses for the semester. So would I be the good boy and pay the fees or could I indulge in some shopping with all the money in my hands? I got the answer soon after.
Once in a lifetime a situation turns up when you really wish that you could go back in time and change just one little incident that could have altered the outcome of some of the most pivotal moments of your life if not possibly your entire life from that moment onwards. It was an accident in my case, which I do not wish to be different for my case but for someone else’s -viz. the victim’s. I wish I could wash my conscience by saying it was not my fault but I believe it is never one persons fault. Well I wont divulge the details but I can tell you it cost me a whopping ten thousand which I paid for from the money supposed to be set aside for the hostel fees. Incredible, the way things work sometimes!
I did not inform my parents and quickly worked out my finances to conclude that I could manage my debt by curbing a little of my expenses. (Alright... many of my expenses.) I paid my fees in installments saving upto two thousand every month from an allowance of about three, which included one and a half for my mess. As you might have guessed, I did not pay my mess fees and spent about six months living like a pauper. I ate meals irregularly but ensured I ate a lot when I did afford a meal. I survived on things like pulses- the good old chana. I used to boil chana, which I had been given by mom for supplementing my diet with protein rich sprouts. Little does she know that it had been my staple diet for a good part of those first few months in the second year!
But I am not one to lie down without a fight. You can't let one incident bog you down. I had to move on, I had to study and make it through engineering with flying colours. (Yeah, those were definitely my thoughts, honest!)
Well the truth cannot be hidden though, can it? I was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. I was deeply shaken and not having enough money to muster a meal only made matters a lot more worse. I owe my survival through that period to a very special girl and her very adorable mother. If it wasn’t for the love and support from them, I could not have survived through those testing times nor have been the careless fanatic you see before you today. It took a better part of three years for me to finally forget that one incident and get a move on in life. Her mother is the best cook I have known, second perhaps only to mine. If it was not for the lunch I received from her in SH’s tiffin everyday, I would have surely lost my mind.
In that period immediately after the accident, I confined myself to a cocoon I spun around myself. My conversations were largely limited to those with S and with A and both were few and far between. SH did not like conversing with me in college and we almost exclusively spoke to each other outside college. I had to travel about 20 kilometres to talk to her and with my limited budget you can gauge for yourself how difficult and irregular that must have been. (well you are wrong if you think it was rare. I put myself on the brink of a financial disaster traversing the distance as oft as i did.) AB moved into town with his sister and meeting him too grew increasingly difficult as the days passed on.
Do you know what is worse than being physically ill? It is when you are mentally ill. Nothing compares to the turmoil you can put yourself through by just thinking about something. If you can win the battles with your insides you really have nothing to fear. I did not do anything consciously but I had drifted miles from what I used to be. I grew increasingly conscious about my actions and words and grew undoubtedly aloof. For the first time I had trouble making friends and keeping them. But for RA, I truly would have been a lost cause. For some weird reason he persisted with trying to get to know me when I found every reason to stay away. Good man.
I started living outside the hostel at a flat my friends had rented under the garb of missing them unduly. It was just an excuse to avoid being around the hostel and meeting them. I preferred staying alone than in a crowd. Strangely though, I soon discovered that in a crowd you could lose yourself and disappear. It is like being in an uninteresting lecture ('boring' sounds better than uninteresting though doesn't it? Well let's just give the teachers this little lee-way for now, shall we?) when you are present only physically and not mentally. I was living in a world totally cut off from everyone else. It is the worst thing for anyone to do- condemn yourself. If you cant fight back from such a situation life is not worth living. You have wasted a privileged opportunity by not living it to the fullest. I realize now that anyone can make a mistake and the best course of action is to get up in the morning, let bygones be bygones and make a fresh start. Life is only as beautiful as you might want it to be. There is always a reason to live with vigour no matter how bleak the situation might seem. I found mine too- GUILT!
That semester I did not care enough to study a word. I had missed most of the lectures and had no a clue as to what the subjects were about. I had a backlog from the first year and did not study seriously even for that subject knowing well that next time around, the proverbial sword would be dangling on my throat and I would have to work my socks off to get to the next year. I had given myself up to fate and had accepted failure even before it had come. The condition was so bad that I had not even bought some of my books!
Things only went downhill from there. During the math paper, my identity card did not have the principals signature at the reverse stating my class and year. No it was not just me, it was the whole college. I guess when things are not going your way, they just are not going your way. The internal invigilator came around on his rounds and saw the mistake on my card so he took it along with him and told me to meet him after the paper. Oh but that is not the end of it. The external invigilator comes around on her rounds and asks me for my card and guess what? Obviously, I don’t have it! I tell her that it lies with the internal invigilator i.e. the vice- principal and what does she tell me? She tells me to get a letter from him. I go running to search for him and finally when I catch up with him he tells me to wait near the exam control room. He returns after having announced in every class that students are supposed to have their I-cards signed from the principal indicating their roll numbers and the year they are in. I ask him for the letter and he lectures me on how I do not study and have the time to take long strolls in the evenings on the highway but not the time to get a small signature. (Yes, I know it was my fault and I would have got the signature if I alongwith the rest of the college would have been aware of such a rule.) Moreover, I had an exam in progress, which had not been stalled while all this was going on with me and of course they were not going to give me any additional time to finish the paper now were they? I was supposed to be solving complex mathematical problems and this eccentric old man was lecturing me no end. If I could only tear every strand of hair from his head. (And I would have too had he not been bald!) Thankfully, our HOD came along and rescued me from the whims of that crazy old man. Needless to say, after half an hour of his nonsense I did not feel I could solve the paper to the best of my abilities and so went to the exam hall, packed my belongings and left. Yes, I flunked.
If I was not stirred up within before, I was now and did not study a word for the next two papers. AB came along one day and he saw I had not bought the book for my next exam and instead, was calmly sleeping my head off. He rightly abused me. Thanks to his kick in my butt, I managed to scrape through that subject and the next.
The fun though did not start until the next semester. In the beginning of the semester, my HOD wanted to talk to my dad and he knew about the accident cause I had told some of my friends who in turn told him and things were really getting out of hand now. I knew that my HOD would be talking to my dad about nothing but the accident and I really would not want my father to find out from a third person. You can imagine my spate. I was petrified, of dad on one hand and of the consequences of him finding out through my teacher on the other. I could have ducked out by giving some silly excuses and avoiding the call but I really did not want to. The man had put out his neck to defend me all through the previous semester against the rest of the staff since he was the only one with the privileged information.
Finally, I mustered up the courage to call dad and tell him what had happened. A little too late cause I had already managed to pay the hostel fees by then. He was shocked to say the least and I suppose a tad disappointed at my misgivings. Most of all though, I think my parents were simply hurt by the fact that I did not have the trust to confide in them about such a massive incident. To make matters more complicated, a week later, the results were declared and I had backlogs by the dozen. There was no way I could have told my parents what had happened. They would mortify me. Moreover, I wouldn’t be able to study with moms constant cribbing over the phone and so I decided the wisest thing to do would be to conceal this little event from them. So I told them I was all clear!
Any way, they were not going to see my result until the next semester and by then I would work hard to clear my name. It almost worked until…
My dear friend AN’s sister was going to get operated for a cyst in the lower back. Poor guy had just had his own hand operated and since the two of them and their eldest sister were living by themselves in Pune, I thought I might lend a helping hand. I drove down to the hospital with my friend Ro to see if we could be of any use. After reaching the Military Hospital, we searched the premises for an hour trying to locate the operation theatre. Discouraged and bored from the vanity of our efforts, RH suggested we go back. I did not want to quit having had travelled so far so I told him to take the bike and that I would come to the flat with AN. Big mistake.
When we had shifted his sister into the ward after the surgery, me, AN and his sister left the hospital in a ric. We had to drop her off at her hostel first. On the way, thanks to the impatient nature of some people, a scooterist jumping the signal crashed into the side of our ric which was turning at the said location. It turned turtle and I was crushed under the weight of the rickshawalla, An, his sister and the damn rickshaw. I suffered a dislocated shoulder.
This time though, I called up my parents. They in turn called up my local guardians who came rushing to the hospital. Aw, my cursed stars. Not my fault if I might emphasize, again. What can I say except that I was at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Deeply concerned with what I was getting myself into, my folks decided a short trip to Pune was called for. I was so in trouble. Now how would I avoid showing them the marksheet?
So it happened. They arrived in Pune and were going to spend about a week. Oh ho, my goose was going to be so cooked. I took a deep breath and awaited my impending doom. By the time they arrived, my hand was out of the plaster but not quite upto full strength. (I guess it had something to to with my wise decision to skip the physiotherapy for rehabilitation, though I am not quite certain about it yet!) I guess by now even you would expect that to be a rather obvious event, would you not? How do I get myself into these muddles?
Anyway, while they were here, for the first five days they did not even mention college in the conversations that we had. I pushed my luck a bit too far though. On the fifth day, dad asked me to get the marksheet from the hostel and I said fine. They were going to leave the day after so I figured I could find some way of putting it off for just another 48 hours or so. I really could not come up with anything that appealed to me as being a good reason. That 6th evening, I got a lift from my friend AV. I had gone to his place to get a couple of games for my bro. He came up to meet my parents and was drinking water when my mother asked me if I had got my marksheet. I do not know why but for some reason I heard myself say- “AV, I left it in your file at your place!” Poor boy almost chocked on that last gulp of water.
Dad said it was alright and that we could collect it the next morning before he left for college. Now what? He of course did not have it and at this point of time nor did I. That night we went out for dinner with one of dads colleagues and so atleast one evening was going to be safe. The next morning we drove up to his bus-stop only to see that the bus was just leaving ahead of us. But no, dad is not one to give up easily. He figured the bus would stop further ahead and so we could board it at the next stop and then collect the dreaded marksheet from AV. At this point I considered telling him the whole truth but could not muster the courage and decide to wait and watch as the events unfolded. Poor guy, for my sake, (and he is a tall fellow- all of 6’2”,) crouched down in the two feet of crammed space under the seat and the others covered up by saying that he had missed the bus and was probably driving to college. Holy crap, I was getting away with it! I could not believe my luck.
Well I did slog it out that semester and managed the unthinkable by clearing 13 papers at one go! It was no mean task, trust me. For an entire month, I was in some exam or the other almost every alternate day. It was a hectic schedule and I suppose the only reason I could make through it was the fact that I did not have time to think and take stock of how busy I actually was. It was thanks to some serious counseling from RA that I made it out with my teeth still intact.
When the results were announced and I called up home, I told my mother that I had given thirteen papers in the last semester. Without hearing the rest of the news, she cut the phone. Five minutes later, dad was on the phone consoling me and telling me that dropping a year was not all bad and could be used constructively. I stopped him mid-way through his lecture and told him I had cleared them all he almost had a fit. I think that has been the most carefree roll of laughter I have ever heard from my father. I was warned never to attempt such a feat ever again. (Like I needed to be told!)
It is all in the head. I could have gone either way. Somehow I managed to pull through and I tell you, had it not been for the fact that my parents had come around and that I had lied so big, I would never have pulled through. Funny how far guilt takes you. By the way, we discovered months later that AV’s father and my father had been classmates and really good friends in college. When they finally met each other after a gap of 30 years and me and AV narrated this incident, we all had a good laugh. (AV had lost his funny bone the day he had met my parents though, and I can assure you of that!!!)
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The Great Escape to Goa
How do you feel when you have appeared for fifteen papers in a single semester, hidden the fact from your parents and then finally learnt that you have cleared them all at one go? Satisfied yes, more importantly though- sapped of all the energy and your batteries in a state of total discharge. At that point of time, you want to put your feet up and relax for a few days at least. (If not for a few months!) Yet, with the pressing schedule of college to look forward to, you do not get the time to do as you wish. After the results were declared, I experienced an immense relief soon followed by a feeling that I was down and out and could not take any more of college or engineering. Had it not been for my friends, AV, SA, AP and KP, I surely would have gotten back into the rut of backlogs again.
After the results, AV suggested that we head down for a mini vacation to Goa where his father was working on the Sky-Bus project. That way, we could get a break from the tiring schedule of college and get to learn a few new things at the experimental project mooted at the time to be the future of urban transport. It was supposed to be a long weekend due to a few holidays piling up close to mid-week. We reckoned we could bunk a couple of days of college and have a weeklong trip to Goa. It would be the first time that all of us, with the exception of AV of course, would be visiting Goa.
For those who do not know, Goa is an experience in itself. Sun, sand and surf. The beauty of the place is simply exalting. Anyone who loves the sight of beaches (and I am sure there are no exceptions) would fall in love with the place at first sight. I am, by my own admittance, a loner and am very selective about the kind of people I would like to hang around with. So, the fact that we were to visit Goa at the fag end of August when there were to be no crowds expected on the beaches, was the icing on the cake. I love water and any water body always has me itching to take a plunge in it. I find it hard to resist the temptation of jumping into the water before tearing off the outer layer of clothes I am wearing. I lose control when I am around water as the four of them soon discovered. It was not always this way though.
Paradoxically though, I have had a near death experience in a pool when I was around nine years old. Funny, because I nearly drowned during a swimming class and that too when I was regarded as the best swimmer in the batch! I shall make the situation a little clearer. It was just after the 1st grade that I had enrolled for swimming classes during the summer vacations since I have had a profound love of water ever since I can remember. The coaches were fantastic and good teachers. I had learnt how to float in the first day itself. By the end of the first week, I was lapping the breadth of the pool propelled forward by my feet alone. Then tragedy struck. For some reason, the coaches were replaced and a new coach came into the fray. When he saw the tremendous leaps I had made in the period of a week, he deemed it would be an unfair waste of my talent by not learning more than just the free-style of swimming. He started teaching me the breaststroke once I had finished with the free-style. To discourage me trying to swim into the deeper waters he told me that there were plenty of sharks and jellyfish in those waters and would devour me if I ever went in there because I was so little. (I really don’t see the point anymore, because I was swimming in five feet deep water and my feet did not reach the floor anyway, so how would it be any different from being in ten feet deep water?) I am stumped; I guess I will have to ask the coach someday if I meet him. So that was the way it was all through the six weeks of the class.
Except the last day of the class. For all this while, I had always been swimming the breadth of the pool in five feet deep water. Never once had I even contemplated swimming the length of the pool because the sheer thought of the creatures lurking in the deep waters could scare me stiff (and I am not kidding, I mean stiff!) My father had never once come to see me swim before this day. Impressed by what the coach had to say to him, he was eager to watch me swim the length of the pool. I was not going to have any of it though. I was petrified of the sharks thanks largely to national geographic. The notion that they maybe lurking in the deep was enough to keep me away from its territory. The coach tried his best telling me that the sharks had been removed for the day so that I would be able to swim but I would not listen to any of his arguments. Eventually my mother came over and immensely frustrated by my squeamish attitude, slapped me right across the face and told me to get into the deep. I think that was the first and last time that my mother had slapped me.
Scared but also humiliated by the slap, I eventually ventured into the forbidden zone. I reached the end of the pool and hurried to climb out. The coach told me to get back inside and that I could leave from the other side of the pool and never have to come back again. Young children can have profound imaginations though. The power of the mind is great and could have you do the dumbest things you can think of. On the way back, someone who was swimming underwater passed beneath me. The sight was enough to frighten me into believing it was a shark. I have told you I would get scared stiff just at the thought that there might be creatures lurking in the water so you can imagine what must have happened at the sight of something under me. I simply froze and before I knew it, I was in the hospital. I regained consciousness a day later in the hospital and it was a whole week before I could begin to comprehend exactly what was happening.
Apparently, I had stopped paddling with my limbs and sank straight to the bottom. The poor coach was mortified by what had happened and dove straight in to pull me out of the water. It was just in time too because I had already begun breathing water. I have no memory of what happened next and all I know is that I was hospitalized for a whole week. Even when I returned home, I was inflicted with typhoid and missed about a month of school. Thanks to that one incident, I did not dare to swim waters where my feet would not touch the floor with my head at the very least, a foot clear of the water for the next eight years. I finally managed to get into six feet of water after my friends had pushed me so far with insults about being yellow that pride eventually overcame. I am an expert swimmer now (weird? Yes.) but I still fear deep bodies of water and am quite content to play in the shallow. I do love the water though, so long as it does not get deeper than necessary!
Back to Goa.
The journey was fantastic to say the least. Just the six of us in the jeep was great. We were cracking jokes, singing songs and in the true engineers way cracking sardonic jokes generally aimed at each other. The only trouble was the fact that we had left at four in the morning and I am not what you might call a morning person. In fact, I am not even a night person. I need to sleep by around 11 and I wake up around eight. Yes, 9 hours of sleep and it never is enough. Given the opportunity, I would not wake up at all. Well anyway, I was woken up at 3:30 by SA (poor fellow, must have had the worst experiences waking me up in the two years he had the displeasure of having to bear me!) and somehow, we managed to leave that early in the morning. As soon as we were in the jeep, I was sleeping like a log all over again. By the time I woke up, we were in the ghats snaking our way through the mountains. Those are the scariest roads I have seen. Deep ravines on one side and stony walls on the other, the sights are eerie and somehow at the same time very beautiful. If you can get over your fear of heights, the sheer beauty of the place will overawe you. Since it was the fag end of the monsoons when we were journeying, the Sahyadris are at their flamboyant best with the flora in full bloom and not a single patch of brown on the mountains. The peaks are green and on the steep slopes, you can see innumerable water falls gushing down the mountain, carving a way in the mountains like snakes. The canopy of trees overhead on the road suddenly opens up to give a glimpse of the grey skies overhead. From the slopes of the walls, you can see the water gush down onto the road and scurry off the other side just as quickly. Although most of the sides are well channeled, the drains are not quite adequate to carry away all the water that the skies bless us with. The beauty of the journey overwhelmed me and I could not even begin to fathom what the beauty of Goa might be like. I was eager and expectant, itching to get there as soon as possible. In fact, the main reason we were visiting Goa was the Sky-Bus project which had already occupied its place on the back burner for all of us!
The journey through the plains was not as exciting as the roads mainly passed through rather barren lands. The saving grace for us was Mallu. That boy is as much fun as a barrel full of monkeys. If you are going out on a long trip or vacation and if you expect it to be a long journey, you need not carry music, need not carry a pack of cards, just make sure you pack in Mallu and there shall not be a dull moment in your journey. His comments are hilarious more so because they are opinionated. He has an opinion about everything and not one of them is in the slightest term, dull. He recently got a job and started working 9-to-5 in a rather serious work environment. I asked him how he was doing and he said he was having a difficult time. His colleagues are all serious and he has a difficult time keeping a straight face. He says he wants to scream out at them and tell them he is not made to be a serious person, that he would rather laugh and crack jokes but the poor fellow continues in misery with a straight face. I can imagine the poor fellows plight. Back in college, I sat behind him in class and for the duration of the entire day, the whole row would burst into laughter at intervals of every ten minutes in the least. In the first year, we had our share of fun (and trouble) with all the teachers, none more than him. For some uncanny reason, the teachers loved picking on him and he was not one to shy away. His responses were quick and rapt, loaded with such dry satire that he had the whole class in splits every single time. (Poor chappy.)
After traveling for around thirteen hours, we reached Goa. It was lunchtime and we were hungry as horses. AV’s parents had a wonderful meal prepared for us and we dug in. I will confess though, that I was looking forward to trying out some of the famous prawn curry that is so fabled. Yet that was not possible because it was still Ganesh festival and meat was off-limits for another day. The food was still delicious. They had prepared veg pulao and in typical Hyderabadi style which was lip smacking delicious. You may gauge the genuineness of my praise from the fact that it has been years since the event passed and I can still savor the taste in my mouth as if it was yesterday! In fact, almost every single day of the three that we spent in Goa, we had meals that were lip-smacking, finger-licking delicious. After lunch, we went out to immerse lord Ganesh’s idol in a well and on returning headed off to one of the nearer beaches.
You guessed it, no sooner had I reached the beach, I headed straight into the water. No, I did not enjoy being in the water though. The waves in Goa are strong, they could pull in an unsuspecting fool like myself. When the waters recede back towards the ocean, they literally sweep the ground under you. It is like having the carpet pulled from under your feet and if you are not careful and venture too deep, you will be swimming with the exotic aquatic life of Goa! I was cautious but was among people more scared of the water than I (I had never dreamt it possible for such a species’ existence but I stood corrected!) and was the most adventurous person on the beach that evening. The beaches are simply magic though. The sand is what could literally be termed as golden and if you take the time to notice the beauty of the whole scenery especially during the sunset (this is the west after all!) the whole package of sun, sand and surf is complete in all respects. I had not enjoyed watching the sunset as much anywhere before in all my life. My best friends next to me as the sun slowly began dipping into the ocean with the sound of the waves lashing against the sea wall and the sight of the surf breaking as the waves swelled closer to meet the land made for the perfect spot for the perfect getaway. Is it a wonder then that one of the best teen movies of Bollywood set itself in the beautiful locales of good old Goa? I think that evening was when I had almost the perfect conversation with those guys. Amazing how sometimes the best conversations are had by listening and not talking!
Well, we had dinner at a beachside restaurant at another beach and after dinner were squatting on the beach when we saw the biggest crab anyone of us had ever seen in our lives. We spent the rest of the evening talking to each other about myriad things that I don’t think we have ever spoken about again. We went home late at night and took bath in turns to get rid of all the sand stuck in all the wrong places. Then after a nice soothing bath, I sat down talking to AV’s mom and somewhere during the conversation, drifted off into a deep sleep.
I was the last one to wake up the next morning of course and though we had planned on getting up early and making it a point to visit all the beaches possible in a single day, there was a spanner thrown in the works because they couldn’t get me to wake up and I suppose after a very few feeble attempts they must have given up. They know better than trying to wake me up!
So we ended up visiting some of the more popular beaches and as soon as we had gotten to the first beach, we learnt that the next beach was also connected to it and although we could drive there, we decided to let the car drive down there as we walked along the shore. One of the decisions that truly make your vacations memorable. We ended up burying me in the sand along the way. Walking barefoot, the heat of the sand truly troubled our feet and to escape the heat when we walked in the water, we discovered how truly dangerous and aggressive the waves were. A slipped step here, a careless foot there and we could have ended up being pulled under the waves. My love for the water though kept tempting me to try and walk through the waves. We walked together chatting endlessly and collecting all types of shells and conches. Occasionally, when a crab would leap out from under the sand and rush towards the water, we would all run behind it. We were having fun, by the buckets.
As we reached the other end of the beach, we were welcomed to the sight of a beautiful house hanging over the edge of a cliff that marked the end of our walk. After playing in the water for a little longer, we walked away towards the car. Lunch was one of those meals I will not forget, period.
We had some wonderful prawn curry that tasted like it had been bathed in the best of tomatoes and the most exotic condiment of spices. I licked my plate clean, literally. I ate more than I had intended to and although I was expecting a whopping bill, I was pleasantly surprised to see a rather modest amount, considering all of us had eaten twice the amount we would have otherwise.
Bellies full and with sleep drugging our eyes threatening to wreck havoc on our plans for the afternoon, we contemplated out next stop. It would be unwise to get into the water given our present conditions and so we decided to visit the Fort Aguada. We walked around the perimeter of the fort for the rest of the afternoon exploring the structure or what was left of it, clicking pictures and running around. The view of the ocean from the watchtowers of the fort was spellbinding. Soon, it was evening and time to head back.
We still had not visited the Sky-Bus project, which was the reason we had arrived in Goa in the first place! The plans for a token visit to the site of the project were put in place for the next day. So, the evening was once again spent at Colva beach and we had a blast climbing into one of the angler’s boats lying at the end of the beach. Needless to say, I spent most of my time in the water. Dinner was again fabulous at the beachside restaurant and another day had ended.
The next morning, we were unable to go to the project site due to some meetings that uncle had to attend. However, we did reach the site late afternoon and the project was indeed fabulous in it’s execution. The long stretch of the mile long test track and the two buses literally hanging off the over-way. A wonderful piece of engineering, which could prove to be a boon in cities, like Pune where availability of land for expanding the existent roads is a thorn in the leg. Moreover, the buses are automated so the need for drivers is eliminated and the room for passengers is maximized. The other safety features made it seem to be a truly tempting option if only it would escape the red-tapism of Indian bureaucracy. Once again, we clicked many pictures and marveled at the engineering genius of the men that were responsible for the inception of the idea and its further development. It would be wonderful to be able to work on a project of this magnitude, or would it? The Indian Railways funded the project and obtaining funds for development work in a nation like India is a painful task. The project had run into its share of trouble with the Indian bureaucrats soon and the development slowed.
We left for Pune the next morning accompanied by AV’s mother. The journey was once again a lot of singing and cracking some rather sorry jokes. All in all, the vacation left me recharged and although I had missed quite a few days of college (like it really was going to make a difference), I had enjoyed myself thoroughly! I felt wonderful when I arrived back in town and was ready to face the surprises that another year of Engineering held in store for me.
After the results, AV suggested that we head down for a mini vacation to Goa where his father was working on the Sky-Bus project. That way, we could get a break from the tiring schedule of college and get to learn a few new things at the experimental project mooted at the time to be the future of urban transport. It was supposed to be a long weekend due to a few holidays piling up close to mid-week. We reckoned we could bunk a couple of days of college and have a weeklong trip to Goa. It would be the first time that all of us, with the exception of AV of course, would be visiting Goa.
For those who do not know, Goa is an experience in itself. Sun, sand and surf. The beauty of the place is simply exalting. Anyone who loves the sight of beaches (and I am sure there are no exceptions) would fall in love with the place at first sight. I am, by my own admittance, a loner and am very selective about the kind of people I would like to hang around with. So, the fact that we were to visit Goa at the fag end of August when there were to be no crowds expected on the beaches, was the icing on the cake. I love water and any water body always has me itching to take a plunge in it. I find it hard to resist the temptation of jumping into the water before tearing off the outer layer of clothes I am wearing. I lose control when I am around water as the four of them soon discovered. It was not always this way though.
Paradoxically though, I have had a near death experience in a pool when I was around nine years old. Funny, because I nearly drowned during a swimming class and that too when I was regarded as the best swimmer in the batch! I shall make the situation a little clearer. It was just after the 1st grade that I had enrolled for swimming classes during the summer vacations since I have had a profound love of water ever since I can remember. The coaches were fantastic and good teachers. I had learnt how to float in the first day itself. By the end of the first week, I was lapping the breadth of the pool propelled forward by my feet alone. Then tragedy struck. For some reason, the coaches were replaced and a new coach came into the fray. When he saw the tremendous leaps I had made in the period of a week, he deemed it would be an unfair waste of my talent by not learning more than just the free-style of swimming. He started teaching me the breaststroke once I had finished with the free-style. To discourage me trying to swim into the deeper waters he told me that there were plenty of sharks and jellyfish in those waters and would devour me if I ever went in there because I was so little. (I really don’t see the point anymore, because I was swimming in five feet deep water and my feet did not reach the floor anyway, so how would it be any different from being in ten feet deep water?) I am stumped; I guess I will have to ask the coach someday if I meet him. So that was the way it was all through the six weeks of the class.
Except the last day of the class. For all this while, I had always been swimming the breadth of the pool in five feet deep water. Never once had I even contemplated swimming the length of the pool because the sheer thought of the creatures lurking in the deep waters could scare me stiff (and I am not kidding, I mean stiff!) My father had never once come to see me swim before this day. Impressed by what the coach had to say to him, he was eager to watch me swim the length of the pool. I was not going to have any of it though. I was petrified of the sharks thanks largely to national geographic. The notion that they maybe lurking in the deep was enough to keep me away from its territory. The coach tried his best telling me that the sharks had been removed for the day so that I would be able to swim but I would not listen to any of his arguments. Eventually my mother came over and immensely frustrated by my squeamish attitude, slapped me right across the face and told me to get into the deep. I think that was the first and last time that my mother had slapped me.
Scared but also humiliated by the slap, I eventually ventured into the forbidden zone. I reached the end of the pool and hurried to climb out. The coach told me to get back inside and that I could leave from the other side of the pool and never have to come back again. Young children can have profound imaginations though. The power of the mind is great and could have you do the dumbest things you can think of. On the way back, someone who was swimming underwater passed beneath me. The sight was enough to frighten me into believing it was a shark. I have told you I would get scared stiff just at the thought that there might be creatures lurking in the water so you can imagine what must have happened at the sight of something under me. I simply froze and before I knew it, I was in the hospital. I regained consciousness a day later in the hospital and it was a whole week before I could begin to comprehend exactly what was happening.
Apparently, I had stopped paddling with my limbs and sank straight to the bottom. The poor coach was mortified by what had happened and dove straight in to pull me out of the water. It was just in time too because I had already begun breathing water. I have no memory of what happened next and all I know is that I was hospitalized for a whole week. Even when I returned home, I was inflicted with typhoid and missed about a month of school. Thanks to that one incident, I did not dare to swim waters where my feet would not touch the floor with my head at the very least, a foot clear of the water for the next eight years. I finally managed to get into six feet of water after my friends had pushed me so far with insults about being yellow that pride eventually overcame. I am an expert swimmer now (weird? Yes.) but I still fear deep bodies of water and am quite content to play in the shallow. I do love the water though, so long as it does not get deeper than necessary!
Back to Goa.
The journey was fantastic to say the least. Just the six of us in the jeep was great. We were cracking jokes, singing songs and in the true engineers way cracking sardonic jokes generally aimed at each other. The only trouble was the fact that we had left at four in the morning and I am not what you might call a morning person. In fact, I am not even a night person. I need to sleep by around 11 and I wake up around eight. Yes, 9 hours of sleep and it never is enough. Given the opportunity, I would not wake up at all. Well anyway, I was woken up at 3:30 by SA (poor fellow, must have had the worst experiences waking me up in the two years he had the displeasure of having to bear me!) and somehow, we managed to leave that early in the morning. As soon as we were in the jeep, I was sleeping like a log all over again. By the time I woke up, we were in the ghats snaking our way through the mountains. Those are the scariest roads I have seen. Deep ravines on one side and stony walls on the other, the sights are eerie and somehow at the same time very beautiful. If you can get over your fear of heights, the sheer beauty of the place will overawe you. Since it was the fag end of the monsoons when we were journeying, the Sahyadris are at their flamboyant best with the flora in full bloom and not a single patch of brown on the mountains. The peaks are green and on the steep slopes, you can see innumerable water falls gushing down the mountain, carving a way in the mountains like snakes. The canopy of trees overhead on the road suddenly opens up to give a glimpse of the grey skies overhead. From the slopes of the walls, you can see the water gush down onto the road and scurry off the other side just as quickly. Although most of the sides are well channeled, the drains are not quite adequate to carry away all the water that the skies bless us with. The beauty of the journey overwhelmed me and I could not even begin to fathom what the beauty of Goa might be like. I was eager and expectant, itching to get there as soon as possible. In fact, the main reason we were visiting Goa was the Sky-Bus project which had already occupied its place on the back burner for all of us!
The journey through the plains was not as exciting as the roads mainly passed through rather barren lands. The saving grace for us was Mallu. That boy is as much fun as a barrel full of monkeys. If you are going out on a long trip or vacation and if you expect it to be a long journey, you need not carry music, need not carry a pack of cards, just make sure you pack in Mallu and there shall not be a dull moment in your journey. His comments are hilarious more so because they are opinionated. He has an opinion about everything and not one of them is in the slightest term, dull. He recently got a job and started working 9-to-5 in a rather serious work environment. I asked him how he was doing and he said he was having a difficult time. His colleagues are all serious and he has a difficult time keeping a straight face. He says he wants to scream out at them and tell them he is not made to be a serious person, that he would rather laugh and crack jokes but the poor fellow continues in misery with a straight face. I can imagine the poor fellows plight. Back in college, I sat behind him in class and for the duration of the entire day, the whole row would burst into laughter at intervals of every ten minutes in the least. In the first year, we had our share of fun (and trouble) with all the teachers, none more than him. For some uncanny reason, the teachers loved picking on him and he was not one to shy away. His responses were quick and rapt, loaded with such dry satire that he had the whole class in splits every single time. (Poor chappy.)
After traveling for around thirteen hours, we reached Goa. It was lunchtime and we were hungry as horses. AV’s parents had a wonderful meal prepared for us and we dug in. I will confess though, that I was looking forward to trying out some of the famous prawn curry that is so fabled. Yet that was not possible because it was still Ganesh festival and meat was off-limits for another day. The food was still delicious. They had prepared veg pulao and in typical Hyderabadi style which was lip smacking delicious. You may gauge the genuineness of my praise from the fact that it has been years since the event passed and I can still savor the taste in my mouth as if it was yesterday! In fact, almost every single day of the three that we spent in Goa, we had meals that were lip-smacking, finger-licking delicious. After lunch, we went out to immerse lord Ganesh’s idol in a well and on returning headed off to one of the nearer beaches.
You guessed it, no sooner had I reached the beach, I headed straight into the water. No, I did not enjoy being in the water though. The waves in Goa are strong, they could pull in an unsuspecting fool like myself. When the waters recede back towards the ocean, they literally sweep the ground under you. It is like having the carpet pulled from under your feet and if you are not careful and venture too deep, you will be swimming with the exotic aquatic life of Goa! I was cautious but was among people more scared of the water than I (I had never dreamt it possible for such a species’ existence but I stood corrected!) and was the most adventurous person on the beach that evening. The beaches are simply magic though. The sand is what could literally be termed as golden and if you take the time to notice the beauty of the whole scenery especially during the sunset (this is the west after all!) the whole package of sun, sand and surf is complete in all respects. I had not enjoyed watching the sunset as much anywhere before in all my life. My best friends next to me as the sun slowly began dipping into the ocean with the sound of the waves lashing against the sea wall and the sight of the surf breaking as the waves swelled closer to meet the land made for the perfect spot for the perfect getaway. Is it a wonder then that one of the best teen movies of Bollywood set itself in the beautiful locales of good old Goa? I think that evening was when I had almost the perfect conversation with those guys. Amazing how sometimes the best conversations are had by listening and not talking!
Well, we had dinner at a beachside restaurant at another beach and after dinner were squatting on the beach when we saw the biggest crab anyone of us had ever seen in our lives. We spent the rest of the evening talking to each other about myriad things that I don’t think we have ever spoken about again. We went home late at night and took bath in turns to get rid of all the sand stuck in all the wrong places. Then after a nice soothing bath, I sat down talking to AV’s mom and somewhere during the conversation, drifted off into a deep sleep.
I was the last one to wake up the next morning of course and though we had planned on getting up early and making it a point to visit all the beaches possible in a single day, there was a spanner thrown in the works because they couldn’t get me to wake up and I suppose after a very few feeble attempts they must have given up. They know better than trying to wake me up!
So we ended up visiting some of the more popular beaches and as soon as we had gotten to the first beach, we learnt that the next beach was also connected to it and although we could drive there, we decided to let the car drive down there as we walked along the shore. One of the decisions that truly make your vacations memorable. We ended up burying me in the sand along the way. Walking barefoot, the heat of the sand truly troubled our feet and to escape the heat when we walked in the water, we discovered how truly dangerous and aggressive the waves were. A slipped step here, a careless foot there and we could have ended up being pulled under the waves. My love for the water though kept tempting me to try and walk through the waves. We walked together chatting endlessly and collecting all types of shells and conches. Occasionally, when a crab would leap out from under the sand and rush towards the water, we would all run behind it. We were having fun, by the buckets.
As we reached the other end of the beach, we were welcomed to the sight of a beautiful house hanging over the edge of a cliff that marked the end of our walk. After playing in the water for a little longer, we walked away towards the car. Lunch was one of those meals I will not forget, period.
We had some wonderful prawn curry that tasted like it had been bathed in the best of tomatoes and the most exotic condiment of spices. I licked my plate clean, literally. I ate more than I had intended to and although I was expecting a whopping bill, I was pleasantly surprised to see a rather modest amount, considering all of us had eaten twice the amount we would have otherwise.
Bellies full and with sleep drugging our eyes threatening to wreck havoc on our plans for the afternoon, we contemplated out next stop. It would be unwise to get into the water given our present conditions and so we decided to visit the Fort Aguada. We walked around the perimeter of the fort for the rest of the afternoon exploring the structure or what was left of it, clicking pictures and running around. The view of the ocean from the watchtowers of the fort was spellbinding. Soon, it was evening and time to head back.
We still had not visited the Sky-Bus project, which was the reason we had arrived in Goa in the first place! The plans for a token visit to the site of the project were put in place for the next day. So, the evening was once again spent at Colva beach and we had a blast climbing into one of the angler’s boats lying at the end of the beach. Needless to say, I spent most of my time in the water. Dinner was again fabulous at the beachside restaurant and another day had ended.
The next morning, we were unable to go to the project site due to some meetings that uncle had to attend. However, we did reach the site late afternoon and the project was indeed fabulous in it’s execution. The long stretch of the mile long test track and the two buses literally hanging off the over-way. A wonderful piece of engineering, which could prove to be a boon in cities, like Pune where availability of land for expanding the existent roads is a thorn in the leg. Moreover, the buses are automated so the need for drivers is eliminated and the room for passengers is maximized. The other safety features made it seem to be a truly tempting option if only it would escape the red-tapism of Indian bureaucracy. Once again, we clicked many pictures and marveled at the engineering genius of the men that were responsible for the inception of the idea and its further development. It would be wonderful to be able to work on a project of this magnitude, or would it? The Indian Railways funded the project and obtaining funds for development work in a nation like India is a painful task. The project had run into its share of trouble with the Indian bureaucrats soon and the development slowed.
We left for Pune the next morning accompanied by AV’s mother. The journey was once again a lot of singing and cracking some rather sorry jokes. All in all, the vacation left me recharged and although I had missed quite a few days of college (like it really was going to make a difference), I had enjoyed myself thoroughly! I felt wonderful when I arrived back in town and was ready to face the surprises that another year of Engineering held in store for me.
MEETING ANI
For the first week, I commuted to college from home mainly because my mother was having a hard time letting go and did not wish for me to leave home. So, for whatever reason she could think of, she kept delaying my departure. In the one week before I entered the hostel, I had already created quite a stir among the hostelites by getting into an argument with the rector and reminding him of his responsibilities. To be more specific, as I said, I was a little late in moving into the hostel though my belongings had already made their way to my room. The rooms were triplicate sharing and I having been an early bird, had booked the bed near the window in the corner-most room.
My room-mate though did not seem to appreciate the fact that my stuff cozily occupied the bed while I was at large and so made a consistent attempt to move my belongings onto one of the other beds. I kept a check on the status of my belongings and for a few days kept moving my stuff back. A few days later, I informed the rector about the misgivings and asked him to kindly issue a warning to the offending party. When the practice did not stop, one fine day when I seemingly had gotten off the wrong side of the bed, I talked to the rector and reminded him of the situation. He politely told me that he was not a policeman to keep a check on my belongings. Ticked off, I took the matter up with the vice-principal and had a huge argument with the rector in his cabin. The verdict did come in my favour but I knew, life was going to get difficult once I moved into the hostel.
News or rather gossip, spreads like wild fire and it was not too long before the whole college knew what had happened. Obviously enough, people were eager to know what kind of weirdo would take up such a step. Soon the day dawned when I had to make the shift into the hostel and even before I had entered the gates, I had the whole hostel talking about me. to make matters worse, I had heard from a few class-mates, that ragging was prevalent in the hostel. My first evening was jittery because I really am not a very fiery character and would rather negotiate tacky situations with guile and tact rather than brute aggressiveness. This one incident was perhaps the only exception and at that point I really wished would rather have not been!
Expecting a rather feisty welcome from my seniors, I decided it would be best if I spent the evening unpacking in my room. In fact, it would be a good ploy to lay down low for a few days and clearly send out the message that I am a timid character and let things calm down. My plans were shattered when there was a knock on my door and a rather well built, stocky young man stepped into the room. He was dressed in a pair of track pants and a tight shirt which did well not to rip of its seams under the bulge of his arms. I am a two dimensional figure in comparison and was really intimidated by his presence. I was now getting myself mentally prepared for a session of good old fashioned ragging from my seniors.
He asked me my name and I meekly obliged. He asked me where I was from and I offered him my explanation of being a localite and shifting to the hostel so as to be able to study better and save on traveling time. Then when he said that he had heard about the incident with me and the rector I thought I was going to be up for a good wallop.i think he sensed I was trying to avoid a conversation with him and so he said he thought it was quite brave of me to stand up for myself.
I was perplexed. Here was a senior who I assumed was here only to kick my sorry butt and yet was trying to strike up a conversation. Something was definitely amiss. I took a gamble then, I asked him which year he was in and had he been a senior, I would have had it. It would be travesty to disrespect a senior and I might get myself more punishment than I already elicited. I prayed for my sake.
Boy was I relieved to hear him say that he too was a fresher and came from Jaipur. I told him I thought he was a senior and so was avoiding a conversation for fear of an intense ragging session. He broke into a bout of rolling laughter. He said that I was in no danger of being ragged simply because the seniors did not wish to rake me up. Who would want to mess with a person who did not hesitate to bust open his rector in front of the vice-principal. There could be no telling what this lunatic would do to his seniors for ragging him; after all, they were mere students! We talked for the rest of the evening and at the end of it, he really could not believe I was capable of taking such drastic steps. I made a good friend that day.
Anirudh, is a very jovial, light hearted and fun loving individual. He is one of those rare people who are the heart of every party. Conversations with him are laced with rounds of such rollicking laughter that by the time you are done talking, your stomach invariably cramps in all the right places. His I-don’t-care attitude switches to the damn-I-do-care mode the instant he recognizes a situation related to his academics. He loves getting into trouble with his teachers though and has utter disdain for authority. These facets of his personality though will be clearer as the tale makes further headway.
My room-mate though did not seem to appreciate the fact that my stuff cozily occupied the bed while I was at large and so made a consistent attempt to move my belongings onto one of the other beds. I kept a check on the status of my belongings and for a few days kept moving my stuff back. A few days later, I informed the rector about the misgivings and asked him to kindly issue a warning to the offending party. When the practice did not stop, one fine day when I seemingly had gotten off the wrong side of the bed, I talked to the rector and reminded him of the situation. He politely told me that he was not a policeman to keep a check on my belongings. Ticked off, I took the matter up with the vice-principal and had a huge argument with the rector in his cabin. The verdict did come in my favour but I knew, life was going to get difficult once I moved into the hostel.
News or rather gossip, spreads like wild fire and it was not too long before the whole college knew what had happened. Obviously enough, people were eager to know what kind of weirdo would take up such a step. Soon the day dawned when I had to make the shift into the hostel and even before I had entered the gates, I had the whole hostel talking about me. to make matters worse, I had heard from a few class-mates, that ragging was prevalent in the hostel. My first evening was jittery because I really am not a very fiery character and would rather negotiate tacky situations with guile and tact rather than brute aggressiveness. This one incident was perhaps the only exception and at that point I really wished would rather have not been!
Expecting a rather feisty welcome from my seniors, I decided it would be best if I spent the evening unpacking in my room. In fact, it would be a good ploy to lay down low for a few days and clearly send out the message that I am a timid character and let things calm down. My plans were shattered when there was a knock on my door and a rather well built, stocky young man stepped into the room. He was dressed in a pair of track pants and a tight shirt which did well not to rip of its seams under the bulge of his arms. I am a two dimensional figure in comparison and was really intimidated by his presence. I was now getting myself mentally prepared for a session of good old fashioned ragging from my seniors.
He asked me my name and I meekly obliged. He asked me where I was from and I offered him my explanation of being a localite and shifting to the hostel so as to be able to study better and save on traveling time. Then when he said that he had heard about the incident with me and the rector I thought I was going to be up for a good wallop.i think he sensed I was trying to avoid a conversation with him and so he said he thought it was quite brave of me to stand up for myself.
I was perplexed. Here was a senior who I assumed was here only to kick my sorry butt and yet was trying to strike up a conversation. Something was definitely amiss. I took a gamble then, I asked him which year he was in and had he been a senior, I would have had it. It would be travesty to disrespect a senior and I might get myself more punishment than I already elicited. I prayed for my sake.
Boy was I relieved to hear him say that he too was a fresher and came from Jaipur. I told him I thought he was a senior and so was avoiding a conversation for fear of an intense ragging session. He broke into a bout of rolling laughter. He said that I was in no danger of being ragged simply because the seniors did not wish to rake me up. Who would want to mess with a person who did not hesitate to bust open his rector in front of the vice-principal. There could be no telling what this lunatic would do to his seniors for ragging him; after all, they were mere students! We talked for the rest of the evening and at the end of it, he really could not believe I was capable of taking such drastic steps. I made a good friend that day.
Anirudh, is a very jovial, light hearted and fun loving individual. He is one of those rare people who are the heart of every party. Conversations with him are laced with rounds of such rollicking laughter that by the time you are done talking, your stomach invariably cramps in all the right places. His I-don’t-care attitude switches to the damn-I-do-care mode the instant he recognizes a situation related to his academics. He loves getting into trouble with his teachers though and has utter disdain for authority. These facets of his personality though will be clearer as the tale makes further headway.
HOSTEL LIFE
I have always had this knack of burning my boats with my own hands and I am so dumb, I manage to burn my hands while at it too! One such misadventure landed me at ‘Rajarshi Shahu College of Engineering.’ At the time, it was not too famous a college, as a matter of fact, it was one of those colleges that was just developing and unless you had inside information which said it was destined for greater things, you would not be found wanting admission here. I had no such information. I was here because I had no choice.
The college is so far away from where I used to live that my parents decided it would be best if I moved into the hostel. It would save me a couple of hours of traveling and possibly give me a chance to grow up into a mature young man. (Hehehe...needless to say, that didnt quite help much!) I for one, readily agreed because I thought it would give me some time to think about where my life was heading and possibly get a grip on reality. Talk about wishful thinking!
If you do not believe everything happens for a reason, I suggest you might want to rethink your line of thinking. After all, had it not been for those fabulous three odd years that I spent in the hostel, I would never have gotten enough material to write about. Life as a hostelite is a great experience. It does a lot to define you as an individual, gives you a great perspective on life. When you step into a world where you have to take care of yourself and be accountable for your actions, you had better appreciate the gravity of the situation else you end up learning your lessons the hard way. (Or then again you might not learn any-like me.)
When you step out of the protective realms of home, the first thing you take note of is the freedom. For someone coming out from a conservative middle-class family, the fact that your mother cannot watch over your every movement gives vent to your rebellious nature. For the first time, I could decide whether or not my clothes could be deemed dirty enough to be washed, whether or not I wanted to get up at six in the morning and take a bath and most importantly, whether or not I wanted to get up and go to college or instead just sleep late and walk over when I am ready to wake up! The freedom is exhilarating. It does carry a price though.
The sudden break away from rules and regulations can get to your head. Sometimes, you make decisions that you would have preferred not to had you been thinking clear but then you go ahead and do it because you can. Before you start deducing faster than Sherlock Holmes, let me make it clear, I am not talking about smoking, boozing, doping or getting a tattoo. The only reason I could stay away from all of those was probably the security I found in myself from my bloated self-confidence. I am talking more in terms of decisions like sneaking into the girls hostel, locking the rectors door from the outside forcing the watchman to break open the lock and other such weird misadventures that ensured life was always a bit more fun than should have been. But then, that is another tale altogether.
The most important lessons that hostel life teaches you are how to wash your own clothes, how to gulp down food that had you been home you could have snubbed and how to manage your finances so as to be able to watch plenty of movies and go out on innumerable dates and at the end of the month, end up having nothing but empty pockets so you can be thankful that you paid your mess bills (if the money has not already been spent in buying her a gift!) Ah! The pleasures of hostel life!
Hostel life spanned three years and each year saw an influx of new friends into my life. I think it would be advisable to divide this narration in the three distinct years. Some events though roll over because they have a direct bearing on previous events. Obviously enough, we shall start at the first year.
The college is so far away from where I used to live that my parents decided it would be best if I moved into the hostel. It would save me a couple of hours of traveling and possibly give me a chance to grow up into a mature young man. (Hehehe...needless to say, that didnt quite help much!) I for one, readily agreed because I thought it would give me some time to think about where my life was heading and possibly get a grip on reality. Talk about wishful thinking!
If you do not believe everything happens for a reason, I suggest you might want to rethink your line of thinking. After all, had it not been for those fabulous three odd years that I spent in the hostel, I would never have gotten enough material to write about. Life as a hostelite is a great experience. It does a lot to define you as an individual, gives you a great perspective on life. When you step into a world where you have to take care of yourself and be accountable for your actions, you had better appreciate the gravity of the situation else you end up learning your lessons the hard way. (Or then again you might not learn any-like me.)
When you step out of the protective realms of home, the first thing you take note of is the freedom. For someone coming out from a conservative middle-class family, the fact that your mother cannot watch over your every movement gives vent to your rebellious nature. For the first time, I could decide whether or not my clothes could be deemed dirty enough to be washed, whether or not I wanted to get up at six in the morning and take a bath and most importantly, whether or not I wanted to get up and go to college or instead just sleep late and walk over when I am ready to wake up! The freedom is exhilarating. It does carry a price though.
The sudden break away from rules and regulations can get to your head. Sometimes, you make decisions that you would have preferred not to had you been thinking clear but then you go ahead and do it because you can. Before you start deducing faster than Sherlock Holmes, let me make it clear, I am not talking about smoking, boozing, doping or getting a tattoo. The only reason I could stay away from all of those was probably the security I found in myself from my bloated self-confidence. I am talking more in terms of decisions like sneaking into the girls hostel, locking the rectors door from the outside forcing the watchman to break open the lock and other such weird misadventures that ensured life was always a bit more fun than should have been. But then, that is another tale altogether.
The most important lessons that hostel life teaches you are how to wash your own clothes, how to gulp down food that had you been home you could have snubbed and how to manage your finances so as to be able to watch plenty of movies and go out on innumerable dates and at the end of the month, end up having nothing but empty pockets so you can be thankful that you paid your mess bills (if the money has not already been spent in buying her a gift!) Ah! The pleasures of hostel life!
Hostel life spanned three years and each year saw an influx of new friends into my life. I think it would be advisable to divide this narration in the three distinct years. Some events though roll over because they have a direct bearing on previous events. Obviously enough, we shall start at the first year.
SOME DAYS JUST STAND OUT
Could college life be complete without some really oddball classmates? A rhetorical question, don’t trouble yourself over it, I am sure you agree. These were my four mates who were not the worst of the lot but more importantly, the most consistent factors of my life in engineering. Every college incident in the first year had their influence and their blessing. There were some hilarious incidents with them at helm of these situations. Rather than describing these young men, I think it would be best to let the incidents bring out the colorful aspects of their pleasing personalities. Do not be misled by my praise of these individuals, to some, their descriptions and behaviour night seem to be repelling but in first person, their eccentricity is endearing. I suppose I say so knowing fully well how eccentric I am! Well anyway, let us start in reverse order.
SSS, a surd. I am narrating this in a lingua that I am sure would be considered offensive by the community but I cannot stop myself from making those comments about this single individual. I would urge you to take this tale as a narrative relating solely to SSS and not in anyway link it to my views about the community. SSS hails from Delhi. As most Delhites, he too was an airhead. (You Delhites can argue all you like but this stands!) He is one those incredible people who could not complete a sentence without comparing Pune to Delhi and hammering down a point that proved Pune was but dirt as opposed to Delhi. Irritating is it not when someone does something of the sort? Well yes, provided you are not Bikram Snehi. Twisted as I am, I always love adding fuel to fire and never missed an opportunity to instigate a comment from both him and KU on the topic. KU too was an airhead, uh sorry, a Delhite. The two of them had a love-hate relationship. Before you conclude that the hate came from my wicked mind, let me clarify that the two of them could not stand each other. Had it been left to them, they would not have spoken beyond the first week of college. I was the part that ensured there was love between them! (Which couldn't have been a good thing either but...)
Tell me, what person could watch two individuals simply turn their backs the minute they see each other? It would be blasphemy to let them continue in that fashion, a terrible loss of an opportunity for them to network and be friends. I mean after all, they were from the same city so obviously enough in foreign lands, they would be best suited to get along and adapt together in the new environment. Besides, what good would it do if they did not crib and taunt and be at each others throats with the kind of rivalry that was potentially there for us to exploit? But hey, I was not the sole perpetrator of this crime. My allies were NN and SA. It was me that showed them how much they had in common and could share with each other. It was me all along that made sure they had some points to highlight in every conversation. It was me also, who always made sure that there was contradiction in the matter which they spoke about. To be more specific, the two of them loved being at each other's throats. While KU was always too eager to lend us an anecdote that us Puneites knew to be definitely false, (we live in a city too, Pune is not as backward as the two of them assume it to be,) SSS made sure that once Kunal was out of the picture, he gave us the ‘BARE’ facts of the actual situation. As soon as KU was off to attend to a phonecall (always from his mother at the rate of two an hour) he would snicker and admonish his claims! What do we know though? They both could be right and both had the right to know what happened behind their backs right? So who would tell them? The three of us who else?
It was always in good fun, never in distaste and always good humoured. Our way of bringing out the truth would be to quote SSS only stating it as something we had head from one of SA's friends from Delhi. Very soon, the tale would become fuzzy and suddenly the confident KU would be seen struggling to remember the exact details.
SSS is brilliant. To illustrate the point, let me narrate an incident at the canteen. In the first year, the five of us used to go to the canteen together during the short recess. The tea was better than most places (though I wouldn’t really know, I haven't tasted tea yet...) and I believe so was the omlette. Anyway, SSS was as usual in his cranky mode and was cribbing about how everyone makes fun of him because he is a surd. In his view, surds are generally smarter than the others who make fun of them. He said that a friend of his back in Delhi, loved cracking sardar jokes. In his words-
“My friend was telling us a joke. He said that he once asked his sardar friend the time while the sardar had a cup of tea in his hand. My stupid friend too was holding a cup of tea and he spilt the tea all over him while telling us the joke. Stupid fellow did not even realize that he was going to spill his tea all over himself if he turned his hand over like this…!!!”
Yes, he spilled the tea all over himself. Not just SSS's friend but SSS too- while narrating the incident! We were in splits and shameless as we are, we did not even hide our rolling laughter. We were all over the canteen floor holding our stomachs! He had us in splits. Could you believe the guy? He actually went ahead to say it could happen to anyone…
Anyway, some days just seem to stand out with brilliance! To get to the point, the previous night, me and AN had stayed awake all night long completing some drawing sheets and although he was coping well, I was dazed right through the day. All was well till after lunch. The food that day was the best I have tasted throughout the course of my three years at the hostel. I still remember, we had been served eggs for the first time at lunch and the cook had made awesome egg-masala! I had so much rice that day that I was full right upto my tonsils. Big mistake.
The first lecture after lunch was that of Elements of Civil Engineering. It was Prof. Joshi’s lecture and with due respect to him, the most boring lecture that I have had the displeasure of attending in my life. I think the fact that I was groggy only made things worse. To add to my misery, I have been a certified last-bencher throughout the four years of engineering. Me and SA had been bench-mates in the first year and had a very notorious reputation too. Reputations apart, staying awake during the length of his lecture, was an enormous task in itself and given the situation on that day, things were only getting worse.
I do not know how or when but sometime during the course of the lecture, I drifted off into my own sweet world of dreams. I think I was asleep for about half an hour. When I woke up, SA was standing up and the Professor was letting him have it. I couldn’t really comprehend what exactly had happened. I was the one that was sleeping and the guy next to me was bearing the brunt of the proffessor’s wrath. What a weird world I thought! I sat up straight from a position where I was sprawled all over my desk and the whole class burst out laughing, the Prof. inclusive. I was dazed and could not make head or tail of what was going on.
Prof. Joshi then proceeded to telling the two of us to freshen up, take a nice walk to the canteen and then return to the lecture. When we walked out, SA told me that I had been sleeping for well over ten minutes before he too had drifted off. When the prof. noticed, he shouted out our names and screamed at us to get up. SA had woken up immediately and the had frantically begun to wake me up. After both him and the prof. had tried for a good five minutes or so, they gave up and decided to let me lie. SA however had to face the brunt of the prof’s wrath and had been getting a good long lecture. When the prof. had calmed down and asked SA to go and freshen up, I had suddenly woken up with the most dazed expression anyone had ever seen before. That was the point when everyone burst out laughing. (I do sleep like a log don’t I?)
Well we washed up, walked down to the canteen and sipped some cold drinks and when there were just about two minutes left of the lecture, walked shamelessly back into class with the silliest of grins on our faces! What a day, maybe I should start writing a book about my experiences in engineering!
SSS, a surd. I am narrating this in a lingua that I am sure would be considered offensive by the community but I cannot stop myself from making those comments about this single individual. I would urge you to take this tale as a narrative relating solely to SSS and not in anyway link it to my views about the community. SSS hails from Delhi. As most Delhites, he too was an airhead. (You Delhites can argue all you like but this stands!) He is one those incredible people who could not complete a sentence without comparing Pune to Delhi and hammering down a point that proved Pune was but dirt as opposed to Delhi. Irritating is it not when someone does something of the sort? Well yes, provided you are not Bikram Snehi. Twisted as I am, I always love adding fuel to fire and never missed an opportunity to instigate a comment from both him and KU on the topic. KU too was an airhead, uh sorry, a Delhite. The two of them had a love-hate relationship. Before you conclude that the hate came from my wicked mind, let me clarify that the two of them could not stand each other. Had it been left to them, they would not have spoken beyond the first week of college. I was the part that ensured there was love between them! (Which couldn't have been a good thing either but...)
Tell me, what person could watch two individuals simply turn their backs the minute they see each other? It would be blasphemy to let them continue in that fashion, a terrible loss of an opportunity for them to network and be friends. I mean after all, they were from the same city so obviously enough in foreign lands, they would be best suited to get along and adapt together in the new environment. Besides, what good would it do if they did not crib and taunt and be at each others throats with the kind of rivalry that was potentially there for us to exploit? But hey, I was not the sole perpetrator of this crime. My allies were NN and SA. It was me that showed them how much they had in common and could share with each other. It was me all along that made sure they had some points to highlight in every conversation. It was me also, who always made sure that there was contradiction in the matter which they spoke about. To be more specific, the two of them loved being at each other's throats. While KU was always too eager to lend us an anecdote that us Puneites knew to be definitely false, (we live in a city too, Pune is not as backward as the two of them assume it to be,) SSS made sure that once Kunal was out of the picture, he gave us the ‘BARE’ facts of the actual situation. As soon as KU was off to attend to a phonecall (always from his mother at the rate of two an hour) he would snicker and admonish his claims! What do we know though? They both could be right and both had the right to know what happened behind their backs right? So who would tell them? The three of us who else?
It was always in good fun, never in distaste and always good humoured. Our way of bringing out the truth would be to quote SSS only stating it as something we had head from one of SA's friends from Delhi. Very soon, the tale would become fuzzy and suddenly the confident KU would be seen struggling to remember the exact details.
SSS is brilliant. To illustrate the point, let me narrate an incident at the canteen. In the first year, the five of us used to go to the canteen together during the short recess. The tea was better than most places (though I wouldn’t really know, I haven't tasted tea yet...) and I believe so was the omlette. Anyway, SSS was as usual in his cranky mode and was cribbing about how everyone makes fun of him because he is a surd. In his view, surds are generally smarter than the others who make fun of them. He said that a friend of his back in Delhi, loved cracking sardar jokes. In his words-
“My friend was telling us a joke. He said that he once asked his sardar friend the time while the sardar had a cup of tea in his hand. My stupid friend too was holding a cup of tea and he spilt the tea all over him while telling us the joke. Stupid fellow did not even realize that he was going to spill his tea all over himself if he turned his hand over like this…!!!”
Yes, he spilled the tea all over himself. Not just SSS's friend but SSS too- while narrating the incident! We were in splits and shameless as we are, we did not even hide our rolling laughter. We were all over the canteen floor holding our stomachs! He had us in splits. Could you believe the guy? He actually went ahead to say it could happen to anyone…
Anyway, some days just seem to stand out with brilliance! To get to the point, the previous night, me and AN had stayed awake all night long completing some drawing sheets and although he was coping well, I was dazed right through the day. All was well till after lunch. The food that day was the best I have tasted throughout the course of my three years at the hostel. I still remember, we had been served eggs for the first time at lunch and the cook had made awesome egg-masala! I had so much rice that day that I was full right upto my tonsils. Big mistake.
The first lecture after lunch was that of Elements of Civil Engineering. It was Prof. Joshi’s lecture and with due respect to him, the most boring lecture that I have had the displeasure of attending in my life. I think the fact that I was groggy only made things worse. To add to my misery, I have been a certified last-bencher throughout the four years of engineering. Me and SA had been bench-mates in the first year and had a very notorious reputation too. Reputations apart, staying awake during the length of his lecture, was an enormous task in itself and given the situation on that day, things were only getting worse.
I do not know how or when but sometime during the course of the lecture, I drifted off into my own sweet world of dreams. I think I was asleep for about half an hour. When I woke up, SA was standing up and the Professor was letting him have it. I couldn’t really comprehend what exactly had happened. I was the one that was sleeping and the guy next to me was bearing the brunt of the proffessor’s wrath. What a weird world I thought! I sat up straight from a position where I was sprawled all over my desk and the whole class burst out laughing, the Prof. inclusive. I was dazed and could not make head or tail of what was going on.
Prof. Joshi then proceeded to telling the two of us to freshen up, take a nice walk to the canteen and then return to the lecture. When we walked out, SA told me that I had been sleeping for well over ten minutes before he too had drifted off. When the prof. noticed, he shouted out our names and screamed at us to get up. SA had woken up immediately and the had frantically begun to wake me up. After both him and the prof. had tried for a good five minutes or so, they gave up and decided to let me lie. SA however had to face the brunt of the prof’s wrath and had been getting a good long lecture. When the prof. had calmed down and asked SA to go and freshen up, I had suddenly woken up with the most dazed expression anyone had ever seen before. That was the point when everyone burst out laughing. (I do sleep like a log don’t I?)
Well we washed up, walked down to the canteen and sipped some cold drinks and when there were just about two minutes left of the lecture, walked shamelessly back into class with the silliest of grins on our faces! What a day, maybe I should start writing a book about my experiences in engineering!
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