.:: Circa 2000 ::.
IX Block, Manipal
..:: It was time for a final cleanup and I really didn't seem to be worried about the fines this time. There were more important things on my mind, the thought of never being able to participate in any of those midnight bashes, never having to deal with attendance fines, never having to say 'sorry' to all the profs, never feeling upset about grades, never waiting for that monthly draft to arrive and never drinking cheap whiskey with nal ka paani. Atleast I was glad for the last part. Life would go on even if Sigma lost one of its loyal customers, I thought as I picked up my things to pack. My eyes fell upon a piece of paper that had some familiar names written upon it, starting with 'Deepa Sharma, 11th Dec Delhi Electrical'.
::.. 'So, you like long hair, eh?', spoke this burly guy who called himself Jack the Ripper. I wondered if the title had anything to do with his dislike for long hair. 'Just go to Regency and ask for a fresher's cut and meet me at nine at Mayas for the initiation '.
There were twelve guys in all, some of them barely clothed. 'So this is it', I thought. Luckily I was let go rather easily but only after I cleaned up their bikes, spoke a bit about Manisha Koirala, my interests etc. The introductions soon followed but I learn't that they would be termed void if I forgot any names. 'So, did you get that list I had asked for?'. I nodded as I handed him a piece of paper that had names of all the girls in my class. Perusing through it, his eyes gleamed as he spotted 'Deepa Sharma, 11th Dec Delhi Electrical'.
So, did hostel really teach me to be bold?To speak bravely to people I never had met before, to do things I couldn't have imagined before. Definitely !
..:: I rummaged through my belongings. There were definitely many that I wanted to keep with me especially for the memories. I decided to have some water, a luxury in those days. Walking towards the table, I stumbled over something. It was that thing again, my old bucket without a handle.
::.. We were three of us, too bad I thought. Absolutely strangers to start with, I found them a bit weird as well. Taran had absolutely no sense of hygiene and Vikas just kept meddling with my stuff. I didn't like the idea of sharing my things in the beginning but slowly got used to the practice. Gradually I began to look beyond their minor flaws and started enjoying the company of my room mates. The first year passed away sooner than we thought and it was time to move into our own rooms. I remember Vikas coming back to return all my stuff faithfully. I was happy at first but couldn't digest one thing. 'Now, what am I supposed to do with this, a bucket without a handle ?'
So, did hostel really teach me to adjust?To live with three people who were anything but compatible, to deal with situations that I never anticipated before. Definitely !
..:: I had a lot of unwanted stuff in my room too and had asked the room boy to visit me in the afternoon. I handed him some plastic bottles and some old clothes. While clearing some of the stuff , my fingers rolled over something, which I began to examine. It was a white marble stone shaped like a heart.
::.. We were the new seniors on the block and felt refreshed by the new found freedom. We had a choice of people we wanted to hang out with and go wherever we pleased. New friends were being made and parties in hostels became frequent much to the discomfort of hostel wardens. People who couldn't see eye to eye on anything earlier were turning out to be best friends. There was a strong bonding among us and we seemed to do everything together. On one of our trips, she came to me and said,' You have been a wonderful friend, I just wanted to give you this thing as a token of our friendship'. It was a small white marble stone shaped like a heart.
Did Hostel teach me about friendship? To have had a shoulder everytime I needed it, to have rejoiced at each others joys, to have known more about my friends than they themselves did, to just be there. Definitely !
..:: I had asked a junior to come to my room and collect some old notes. I was getting restless every minute since I wanted to catch up with my friends before I left. He was there finally and I handed over a big stack of papers. 'Hey, What is this?', he asked handing me A bill for Rs. 68.75.
::.. It was the end of the semester and suddenly the hostel seemed to have a different kind of atmosphere. People I had never seen in the class were to be found by the dozens requesting notes, old question papers etc. The endless study sessions to make up for the lack of work during the semesters, being friendly with those Library junkies etc. Not being the most punctual student myself, most of my money was spent collecting and duplicating notes. The photocopier was suddenly my most wanted man on campus and definitely a lifesaver. However, one fine day I decided enough was enough and barged in demanding an explanation for the hike in charges, 'What do you mean by this? A bill for Rs. 68.75?'
Did hostel teach me anything about Collective effort?To have had to study together, to have had to depend on others during exams, to have worked on common projects, to have given proxies in class,etc. Definitely !
I was almost done with my packing and visited a few inmates of my hostel for the final adieu. Some of them, I was aware that I may never get to see again. It started getting all weird as I began to wonder about the beauty of hostel life and how much I was going to miss it. I had become bold, made the best friends, had the best time in my life, learnt the art of working together. What else?
Something started dawning upon me. All this while I was surrounded by people and yet I was on my own. There was a sense of discipline that I had picked up, of sticking to the last penny till the next draft arrived, of taking care of myself, of making sure my room didn't make me fall sick. There was a sense of pride that I attributed to self confidence, of taking on the world when I got out. Was it the hostel ? Well, Could be !!
Itook a last look around the room. It was a magical moment as if I was floating in the sea of memories. It finally sunk in. This was it. As I placed all my packed items in the car, I reached out into my pockets, pulled out a piece of paper and smiled.
It read ' Deepa Sharma, (my yahoo id) 011 423 3211 '
Life moves on !
