CHAPTER EIGHT : SECRETS OF THE BOYS’ HOSTEL

SECRETS OF THE BOYS’ HOSTEL


In spite of being small and helpless, for all offspring of any species, a day comes when they start facing the world on their own. When birds start flying, they suddenly see the whole world beneath their small wings. As they fly, they see they can control their own journey.

Same happens to students like us, when suddenly we find ourselves in hostel environment, far away from protected world back at home. The freedom and sovereignty comes sudden and abrupt.

How would you feel when you find only yourself from your school entering a new college? What would you do when you find yourself being complete stranger to whole herd of new boys and girls of your batch? There were many students like me, which faced challenges of suddenly starting new friendships and relations. But as we all have experienced, any new stress helps in building new relation quicker. I was lucky enough to have room partners like tapasvi and biren. to my fortune, they were my good friends from day one. Hemant, jasmine shah, samir, bhargav, biju, prakash were other angel sent friends for me. There were two hostels and we were in the main boys’ hostel. Since the main hostel was c shaped small hostel at that time, many of my batch mates were provided accommodation in the old nursing hostel.

Free man! To our delight, we found, We were free to roam and no one was there to check when we were coming back to hostel- may it be 10at night 12 mid night or even later than that! No one was to ask weather were we studying in the library or busy in an open air movie theatre at karamsad
or eating at some dhaba near vallabh vidya nagar. We had full control on our own world.

The hostel was kept pretty clean by the management. To take bath was a real joy. We had many bathrooms and bathroom singers. My name was amongst the worst cacophonics. I remember, I had habit of singing gazals at top of my maximum possible volume in our ground floor bathroom. At one such good afternoon shower, setu, a ranker from our senior batch, had to come leaving his reading from top floor to appeal - “hey neh ! May I request to please cut down your volume?”

Setu also had habit of murmuring English songs in the bath. He was a good singer. His songs were simply beyond my comprehension. “pa ra pa pa pa” were the only words which I understood from his songs, I guess.

Many of my friends used to enjoy banging the bath door from out side just for fun.
“Hey man, cant you hurry?” they would shout “get out or I will screw you!!” My good friend like samir would throw cold water from above the open wall in the bath, only to get the same back from inside! Thus the cold water war would begin! Joy fight lasted till the time for college!
(Fortunately, latrines were enough and I do not remember any one shouting for his bowel’s sake!)
A happy day would start. Some would go to mess for the breakfast and tea but most of us ate at hostel room.

Our technique of heating the milk in the plastic pouch of amul was one of its kinds. We used to use coil to boil water in bucket. The milk was ready as soon as the water. How? We just immersed the pouch in the water bucket at the time of starting the heater coil.

When we returned from the college, entire world looked tired and hungry. At that time, we had very limited choices. There was no kaveri hotel and mess used to give breakfast only in the morning. Also, it was costly for our pocket to buy the breakfast every day! So again some dry eatable or occasionally,as a luxury, we could buy a puff or a costlier cake from a kaka which used to come from karamsad to serve us the extravagance. One cheaper choice was to buy tomatoes and cucumber from a kaki usually sitting at the door of the ladies hostel.

Studious would go to library immediately after the college while average students like me would find some excuse for not reading and doing some more important work – discussing ‘studies’ with friends or going to karamsad to buy some important and useful item!

the Night of the campus was beautiful. Since our campus was surrounded by farms on one side and vast plantations of eucalyptus on the other, we had luxury of having eternal silence around the hostel. Since we were far away from polluting city environment, our sky was always bright and stars were shiny.

However the silence would perish in hostel. Sounds of chatting boys, noise of tape recorders playing fast English songs at their full volume would make your ears feel – oh! this was a boys’ hostel!

Once or twice in a month, some of our seniors had attacks of banging the hostel furniture to make maximum possible clatter. One boy would start it and soon others would join. Some would enjoy the orchestra shouting maximum possible absurd words (gaalis) along with! The friendly exchange of such words would occur from one floor of the hostel to the other. The episodes usually ended with either breakage of the furniture or a small quarrel. can you believe? i do not remember any one stopping this or even making an inquiry as to who broke the furniture!

There were some other funny things happening in the hostel at nights.
“tapasvi, can you hear this sound??” I heard a mysterious sound one night.
“Trrrrrrrrrrrr…………”
“Probably some one is pouring water from the top floor.” Tapasvi guessed. Meanwhile, the sound stopped.
“But why at mid night?” I still was not convinced.
“ha ha ha..” biren laughed “what water,chaps? Some one was having luxury of releasing his pressure from top floor directly to ground floor!” he cleared all the doubts!

One of my good friends had habit of doing ‘pressure release’ just in front of our room’s door to tease us. He was specially coming for the process from his room at mid night. This was repeated again and again despite our opposition.
“aah, I simply enjoy this! Tapasveeee… are you listening? I enjoy this!” one night my good friend shouted to irritate us.
That day he got tapasvi’s nerves. Tapasvi rapidly opened the door, rushed out side and immediately gave a kick at a specific place when he was half a way completing his ‘pressure release’.
“Abe yaar!!” my good friend was forced to jump because of the sudden unexpected kick from behind. Not only he had to save himself from falling in the dirt created by him, he also had to pull his trouser to save his shame, not mentioning the pain of stopping the pressure process in between!
Expectedly, that was the last time he attempted ‘pressure release’ in front of our room door!

CHAPTER NINETEENTH: A PIECE OF CLOTH ?

A PIECE OF CLOTH ?

At one age the world is black and white for you. Your heroes are clear and so are the villains. The confusion starts as the age advances. The thickness of gray belt in between the black and white world increases ultimately to engulf most of the black and white area as you grow. When you are young and tender, your definition of patriotism would also be black and white. Thus it was our firm belief - If you are a true patriot, you must hoist your national flag with due respect.

When we found out no one was going to hoist the national flag on 15 august in our college, it was shocking to most of the batch mates. For all of us, doubtlessly, the dean office was black

“How is this possible?” I exclaimed. “Ours is such a big medical college, still, the college authority has not even cared to make a pole for the purpose!”

“We must do something for this” supported tapasvi.

“Not possible, yaar! Today is 14. It will not be possible for us to arrange everything in such a short time”

The fact was exposed just on the 14 august. There never had been any flag hoisting before. The dean office perhaps never thought of celebrating the event. And possibly no one from our senior batches demanded the celebration.
An immediate meeting of our batch was called to crack the matter. Almost all agreed to do whatever possible to hoist the tri color Indian national flag.

Kapil, vimal, bimal, tapasvi, biren and all other friends were very zealous and fanatical for flag hoisting.

“Let us rush to khadi gram udyog to buy a flag” suggested kapil

“Damn it! It is already evening and the store would be closed. No flag - no hoisting!” said vimal looking at his wrist watch, expessing his anger for being late. We were hopeless. We did not have pole at first place and now even not the flag!
“I have one idea...” suddenly a spark flashed in bimal’s eyes. “Let us get the tri color cloth from the market and we can ask any tailor to make a flag for us”
“That is good idea. But what about the ashok chakra?” vivek had doubts.
“That we can draw with our own hand!” suggested ketan finally resolving the problem.

“So boys! Let us run…!”

The over zealous boys made teams and all took different responsibilities. One team rushed to anand to fetch the tri color cloth. Another one went to karamsad to ask the tailor to open his shop in emergency to join the cloth to make the flag. The girl’s team started inviting the seniors and the teachers.

I and tapasvi went to dr. shishir Gandhi, asst. prof. of medicine and head of student’s committee.

“Is this so?” dr gandhi was really surprised “are you sure? Do we not have even a single pole to hoist the flag in our college?”

“Yes sir. But now we want to hoist the flag tomorrow. Kindly install one pole in emergency” we requested from the depth of our heart. Looking at the young enthusiastic boys, dr. Gandhi probably realized the urgent need for pole.

“ok.ok. but can you suggest the place? I can immediately ask workers to install” he assured.

“Yes sir .the easiest and most feasible place is just on the top of the college entrance.” We suggested. Dr Gandhi saved our hearts. He immediately sent a worker along with us.

We jumped on the top of the college entrance and showed the place. The work started immediately. – Hurray! What an achievement!

Next step was to invite some proper person to do flag hoisting. Since the dean was out of the station, we requested dr. mazoomdar, head of the deptt Of physiology, to hoist the flag.
“Sir you must wear Gandhi topi to salute the flag”

“GANDEE topi? Yes. I will arrange for that” sir spoke with his atypical speech agreeing to our demand.

In mean time our friends back at hostel got the tri color cloth sieved from the tailor (tailor’s house and shop was just beside sardar patel’s birth place, karamsad). They had other problems.

“Can any one tell me? How many lines are there in ashok chakra? 18? 22? 24?” bimal was confused. “If the flag is not properly made, we can not hoist such a flag. It would be rather an insult to the nation.” He expressed fear. We had to search our memories back to school days.

“I am sure the number is 24. I surely remember our text book of the ‘nagreek shashtra’! ”asserted kapil confidently and the work started. Bimal and the team worked al most over night and made a beautiful ashok chakra in the centre of the flag. The flag was ready late at mid night. Every one was tired but no one was feeling so. Finally the flag was shining – even in our tender hearts. We all were amazed as how beautiful our national flag looked. Was it because we made it by our own?

The next issue was how to fold the flag so that it opens properly at the time of hoisting. I had some idea. But we rehearsed the process to avoid any fiasco in the morning.

Now everything was ready. All of us really felt we have done our best to see that their beloved mother land is duely respected in our college on the Independence Day.

Thus came the auspicious morning of the first 15 august of the college. Every one- teachers, seniors, juniors, clerical staff - gathered in front of the college gate. We did not have loud speakers, decorative materials, costly flowers but we definitely had the zeal and enthusiasm to respect the motherland, amounted more than any thing that money could buy.

The ceremony was completed in a few minutes. A few of the people like kadri did not turn up. Later, he gave his clear opinion that weather to come or not for flag hoisting could not amount to his patriotism.

Hemant, my close friend and a real patriot, was out of station on the 15th august. When he returned from his home and heard the entire story, he really felt unhappy.

“Did you make the flag with ideal measurements? No. damn you fools! The flag must be of proper size. Otherwise it is not the national flag at all! You have hoisted only a piece of cloth!”

“But hemant. Just look at the way every one worked together overnight. Look at the emotions attached to that piece of cloth made by us. It makes that cloth as precious as the national flag.” But I never could convince him for this. Perhaps till today!

CHAPTER NINE : OUR PROFESSORS

GUJJU-ANGREJ

“Do you know? you feel like a doctor only three times in your entire life ”explained dr.hemang acharya professor of medicine and my jijaji, when I got admission to PSMC “first, when it is your first day in your college, second, when you wear stethoscope in 2nd MBBS and third when you join internship!”

True. Really, how can you continually feel like a doctor when you are continuously and mercilessly bombarded by professors, tutors, exams and vivas? I mean, they just blast off your head with loads of information, that too when it is simply too hard for you to understand it. For instance, I remember dr. arya from deptt of psm tried to teach us clamydia, an organism somewhere between the bacterial and viral world, when no one from us even properly knew difference between virus and bacteria. that too, of course, in the very first lecture from deptt of preventive and social medicine!

Most of us were from gujarati medium and that too was the one of the problem. However I learnt English well before my entry to medical college. A bit proud about it, I remember, first time when I searched to tapavi’s home in ahmedabad, i asked about his address to a local young boy in English .he seemed annoyed, asked from where I came, and gave me proper guidance. After walking about a kilometer, ultimately I found out tapasvi’s place.

After a few days, in our hostel room, we were talking about gujarati angreji.

“You know neh, those who know little English behave like a fool some times. A few days back, one gujarati boy asked address of my house un necessarily in English to my younger brother Nimitt. I do not know who that comedian was!” not knowing the incident, tapasvi expressed his genuine views.
Oops! That boy i asked the address happened to be tapasvi’s brother! and comedian? Naturally-me!

“You are right” I said avoiding eye contact!

Most of the teacher professed in English as it was the language of instruction. However, every one had some peculiarity about their speech. For instance. Dr. mazoomdar, prof. of physiology, used to speak English keeping his lips tightly pursed. Initially for us, it was difficult to find from which part of body the sound was produced! He was fond of asking questions.

“Yes neha! (As he used to call me in the classroom)” and “kkhommon sense!” still ring in my ears

Dr haridas was teaching biochemistry. he was one of the best teacher i ever have met. No student could sleep in his lecture even at last bench.his speech was very much pressured one and he used the speak like a popcorn machine! –Phossphofrrructokhi nase……!

From anatomy, we had dr. danger wala, she had very good habit of going to root of medical terminology, explaining how easy the terms were. (umbo..etle shu?gada na paida na ara jya wachche bhega thayne, e upselo bhaag! Now you compare the central part of ear drum...). she used to teach histology and in journal she used to check the position of nuclei in the cell also, apart from other details. Naturally most of the students had to re draw the figures. From her teachings it became clear, English, as medical terminology was perfect. The Sanskrit professors, in fanatic try to convert these words for gujarati medium student made the same words more clumsy, messy and beyond reach for students to understand .I remember a name of a bone from my 12th std text book as parshwa pashcha kapali purkarnasthi! !

“Underline thousand times!” were the words heard thousand times from anatomist dr bhatiya. In viva, he used to ask the student to hold the specimen not only in anatomical position but also at the same height of the part in question in the student’s body. So one had to hold lungs near his/her lungs, kidney near his /her kidney and so on…!

Dr. raibaghkar from deptt of anatomy was a kind of good audio tape player. He had good collection of many tapes on the subject which routinely started at the start of his lecture and ended without any interaction at the end of the lecture. Occasionally, he used to stop the tape and asked question to us, may be because he might be suddenly realizing the whole herd of students sitting in front of him or to get some time to re arrange the tapes. Usually it was difficult to satisfy him with the answer.when no one could give answer he used to ask his favorite second question:

“Any one from senior batch?” this to usually followed by eternal silence from the audience made up of dumb students like me. most of the times he used to give the answer and sometimes not. but his tape would start exactly where he stopped!

How can I forget dr Nishith? Tall, fair, handsome speaking only needed words in the class, never giving more than 50%- 40% in vivas. Usually his lecture followed that of dr mazoom’s . mazoom sir never used to clean the black board at the end of his lecture.

Annoyed, dr nishith used to comment “this is like not flushing the toilet after using it!"

CHAPTER FIVE : BAD BOYS OF OUR HOSTEL

See? My mind is still so occupied with our experience of ragging in the college, I altogether have forgotten to write about our introductory lecture at the college. It was so un impressive, I remember that event only faintly.

The introductory lecture was arranged in our big lecture hall. All my batch mates filled the hall. I hardly knew anyone! The stage was not decorated. The chairs on the stage remained empty for some time. First person, who appeared like a pune to me, climbed the stage and to my surprise, sat gently in one of the chairs!

The dean of the college was dr gulati, a pharmacologist and a very serious looking man. He sat in the centre. He welcomed us in extra serious speech unlike any hindi film to which all of us listened very silently. Then he introduced the heads of different departments of the first MBBS. dr haridas was head of the deptt of biochemistry. Dr shrivastav head of the dept of anatomy , for whom my eyes were searching, was absent. The man that looked like pune was the head of the dept of physiology. Ouch!

All The heads delivered small speech about their subject. The heads were known as eminent personalities of their own field. However, I remember nothing from their speeches!

It was difficult for me to understand why no one spoke about the burning issue of recognition process of our college by the MCI. But because of hon. shree h.m. patel, that issue was not perceived at all.

H.M. patel was probably sick and could not welcome us in very first lecture.

Our curriculum was to start immediately. For me, it was like a sudden sprint from lazy sleep of grand vacation after 12th std. Naturally no teacher or the dean spoke about the ragging going on in our lives. Every one offered us unconditional help for “everything”. I really do not believe they were un aware of what was going on in the hostel. it was not a big issue for them and mostly was perceived as a part of the culture of the medical college!

The game was simple for all. it was nothing to be bothered about.

But the worst part of this senior junior game was yet to come on us.

One evening we were asked to go to a room in ground floor.we were not grossly tense since this was now a routine. again, it was me and tapasvi. the ragger's room was just a few steps away from our hostel room. the door opened silently. it was full of smoke, yelling about the nature of the occupants. As I and tapasvi made entry through the smoke, we saw a fair skinned man awaiting us.he looked like an ugly fox to us.he was sitting on his cot, supporting himself with both of the hands behind.his eyes were blue.he looked at us to probably decide what best could be brought out from dumbs like us.

From his appearance it was clear that he had cooked some great idea for us. There were few others also. though it was not new, but our hosts had extra grip on bullying.the welcome speech was full of some new bad words we ever had heard.

Looking down to floor, we helplessly stood in front of them trying to block our ears form their welcome words.after that we told our names on inquiry.

“ so...neh and tapasvi... do you know how to dance?” playing with smoke and cigarette, fair skinned man asked. Some one told us, he was amongst the worst chronics of the college.

dance? i never attempted in my life ! even not at navaratri times at bhuj. while some of my friends were champions, i had a great hesitation in doing garba in public. this was one of the similarity between me and shanti, my best friend and claasmate at bhuj. both of us used to remain spectators at garba.

“NO. I never ever have danced before” i replied. tapasvi did not say anything but from his facial expressions, it was clear that he also never had danced before in his life!

“Good. Then boys! Let us teach you!” they laughed. If you remember, tapasvi was very tall RAAJPUT and I was hardly 5.5’ft. i looked at tapasvi. he seemed grossly stressed like me.

"what you fools are waiting for? hold your hands like just married couple !" the order was out. damn ! i wished i could oppose. but many a times in life, you find yourself weaker than a hero you think you are ! tapasvi took his big hand on my back and held my one hand loosely.i also put my other hand on tapasvi's back. our seniors started clapping to give us rhythm. we really danced hating each of the steps of dance. laughing and bullying was going on as a routine.

All of them really enjoyed two obedient juniors at their command. Both of us were sweating and our hearts were beating fast in attempt to sustain the humiliation and agony.soon the dance was over.

“Speak some good Gaali yaar! Don’t you speak any?” asked the fair skinned fox throwing his ciggerete on the floor. this was shocking demand for both of us. while vulgarity and bad words are part of routine boys and gentlemen, it might sound strange to many but i never speak any bad word even in company of my best friends till today. tapasvi also is like me though being true raajput !

“No I never have spoken such kind of word in my life” said i hesitantly.

“ so what are you waiting for? start speaking now!” applause and laugh from small audience. Probably they thought they were doing us a great favor by making us speak gaali - an essential tool of communication especially in college! It was kind of baptism in college life.



We were silent. searching our souls for power to resist. but miserably, both of us simply had given up.

“What do you think of your self? some kind of saints? Speak up NOW!” the group got angry.


Neither mentally nor physically it was possible for us to resist them. We felt like killing our souls. But no way….we had to speak at least a single word of their desire. That was first and last time for both of us in life.

For me,a student from small town like bhuj, this was a completely head blowing experience. How can one feel good making the fellow beings pitiable? How can one enjoy other’s helplessness and agony?



After this episode, we heard of a hero…amim kadri.. he did something that we could not !He refused to speak any gaali at any cost at the time of his ragging. he was from our senior batch…a real RANCHO!