Chapter 5

Fortunately, my room was on the southwestern Indian side. The room was located on the third floor, and my sweat streaked every space that it could find. I opened the door, tossed my belongings and crashed onto them. The three beds were placed at three corners, two on the window side, one on the inner side. I took one of the window side beds as it seemed clean.

The initial days at the hostel were cruel as the incessant ragging by the seniors rendered me teary-eyed. I still remember when Zaid came into the room with his baggage how relieved I was. We shared the same grief for the first semester. Once while fetching my lunch from the mess as I was afraid of the insidious behaviour of some bullies. Instead of going into my room, I accidentally entered some other place. When I opened the door, I could see all the windows wrapped with blankets. The music, playing in the background was soft, and the smoke-filled every space in the room. I wanted to backpedal as I sensed my mistake. Suddenly a voice from within called, "What is in dinner?" I was confused when I got down it was lunch, how abruptly it changed to dinner. I said nothing until I saw one of the boys coming out of the room. He rapped on my head and said, "introduce yourself, and come inside the room." I stared at his face as I was already in his room. What was he talking about I couldn't understand. He came out of the room, sat on the floor in the corridor, and offered me a seat too. "Relax, just make yourself comfortable."

I wanted to say, dumbass! This isn't your room; it is the corridor. But given the state of mind, he was in I preferred not to speak. Another senior came out after some time. They ate my food as they were starving due to weed high. "Don't forget to shut the door, when you leave," they said in unison, and I had to remain in their stinky room for two hours until they came out of their dream world.

That experience changed my outlook regarding professional colleges. At home, parents feel proud of their children being educated at elite colleges; instead, they are getting high. I hated the people who smoked or drank, it felt like the pungency of their evil deeds followed them.

I was wrong as I came to know about them. Having a girlfriend seemed a heinous crime to me when I entered the hostel. We called them 'night operators'. The boys in a relationship would converse with their girlfriends in a loving tone on their phones. They would not be found inside the room as the disturbance of expletives and slurs from roommates ruined their moods. They would roam parks and corridors, smiling and kissing their filthy phones which in the mornings were stuffed under their asses. I could never understand what happened to their tone when their parents called them.

A week later, after Zaid, Vivek joined us. It was fun ragging him in the first place as he had no idea we were all in the same batch. It felt weird to meet total strangers and get along them. Zaid had a girlfriend, he smoked and drank a little. Vivek, like me, was a religious guy. I can say Zaid always acted as a buffer between us when we had some discussion regarding our beliefs. When I asked Zaid about his religious views, his answer was surreal, "I do believe in God until I'm poor, when I will be rich, God has to believe in me." I never understood this thing. I categorised him as the anarchist who would ruin the future of generations.

The Monday mornings brought with them the gloom to end the lethargic weekend. Initially, I was a morning guy. That didn't last long as late-night stays made me an owl and forgot the chirps of the morning bird. The classes usually started at ten, and I, fortunately, woke up at around ten. The only problem I suffered at that time was no water and a rebuke from my class teacher. My friends would spice up my wounds by busting my every lie and calling me a lier in unison. The teachers would note my roll number which belonged to Nihal Singh who couldn't make it to this hell house even after paying the fee.