The First Day of Chaos
Date: July 20, 2009Time: 9:45 AM
Location: Jadavpur University, Kolkata – Mechanical Engineering Department
The morning sun hung lazily over the sprawling Jadavpur University campus, casting a golden hue over the century-old brick buildings and lush greenery. The campus was alive with the sounds of footsteps, honking from cycle rickshaws at the gates, and the occasional frustrated shout of a student realizing they had walked into the wrong building.
Unlike private universities, where the first day meant anxiously sitting in front rows, ready to impress professors, JU's Mechanical Engineering Department had a different energy. The students moved at their own pace, some heading straight to the classrooms, others casually chatting on the lawns, already planning their first mass bunk.
Aritra walked toward the second-floor classroom, his notebook under his arm, his steps unhurried. His mentally 30-year-old self had no anxiety about what was coming, but he could see it in the faces of his classmates—some eager, some confused, and some already regretting their choices.
When he entered, the classroom was half-empty—only ten students out of nineteen had bothered to show up.
Vikram, his ever-complaining friend, was already half-asleep in his chair, his bag barely opened.
"Bro… remind me why we're here?"
Rakesh, flipping through his Engineering Mechanics book, sighed. "Because it's the first day, and skipping on Day One feels… wrong?"
Sumit, chewing gum lazily, smirked. "Nah, bro. We're here because we still think classes matter. Give it two weeks, and we'll all be in the canteen instead."
Aritra smirked but didn't respond. He had lived through college once before—he knew exactly what was coming.
And right on cue, chaos entered the room.
10:00 AM – 12:00 PM: Engineering Mechanics (Statics) – Professor Surya Prasad Banerjee (40, 6ft Tall, Speed Demon)
The door swung open sharply, and in strode Professor Surya Prasad Banerjee, a 6-foot-tall, 40-year-old man in crisp white and grey formals, his clean-shaven face carrying the aura of a man permanently disappointed in students.
He didn't introduce himself. He didn't acknowledge the class.
He picked up a piece of chalk and started writing.
The blackboard erupted with equations and diagrams at inhuman speed, filling with Newtonian physics, force vectors, and Greek symbols before anyone could even open their notebooks.
Silence.
Vikram, still adjusting his bag, whispered, "Wait… what's happening?"
Rakesh flipped through his syllabus frantically. "I don't know! He didn't even introduce himself!"
Sumit, already confused, muttered, "Are we supposed to… learn this?"
Aritra just watched the chaos unfold, amused.
Banerjee turned, chalk dust in the air. "Define equilibrium."
Silence.
Someone coughed.
Sumit, hesitating, answered, "Sir, it's when forces acting on a body are balanced?"
Banerjee nodded once—a sign of approval—before launching into rapid-fire questions.
"Difference between static and dynamic equilibrium?""Define force-couple system.""If a beam has a non-uniform distributed load, what happens to its bending moment?"
The silence was thick, suffocating.
By the time he finished covering:
Newton's First Law and Static EquilibriumFree-Body Diagrams and Support ReactionsMethods of Joints & Sections for TrussesFriction and its Applications in Statics
Half the class looked like they had seen a ghost.
Vikram leaned back, whispering, "Bro… I think I just had an out-of-body experience."
Sumit let out a low whistle, closing his book. "Well, guys, that's it. College was fun. Time to drop out."
Aritra smirked but said nothing. They had survived the first class. Barely.
And this was just the beginning.
The Engineering Mechanics class had left everyone in shock. Some were furiously scribbling down notes, trying to reconstruct what had just happened. Others simply sat staring blankly at the blackboard, unable to process the last two hours of pure academic assault.
Aritra leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. He had expected nothing less from Banerjee. Professors at JU were known for their speed and lack of mercy.
Vikram groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Bro… I think I need to lie down for a bit. My brain is overheating."
Sumit sighed dramatically. "Forget lying down. I need spiritual healing after that class."
Rakesh looked up from his book. "You guys do realize we have Mathematics next, right?"
Sumit's chewing slowed. "...Who's teaching?"
Rakesh adjusted his glasses. "Dr. Priya Sharma."
Vikram blinked. "Wait… Sharma ma'am? The PhD scholar? The one people say is too strict?"
Aritra smirked. "You'll find out soon."
The bell rang, signaling the end of their brief moment of relief. Mathematics awaited.
Mathematics (Riemann Integration) – Dr. Priya Sharma (27, PhD, Intelligent & Intimidating)
The classroom for Mathematics was slightly smaller than the previous one, but it had better ventilation—not that it made much of a difference when students were already sweating from Banerjee's class.
Aritra casually walked in, taking his usual seat.
And then she entered.
Dr. Priya Sharma.
She was young, probably in her late twenties, dressed in a simple yet elegant saree, her sharp brown eyes scanning the room like she was memorizing every face. Unlike Banerjee, who acted like he didn't care whether students existed or not, Sharma made it clear that she expected discipline.
She placed her books on the desk, adjusted her glasses, and without wasting a second, picked up a piece of chalk.
"Good afternoon, students," she said in a calm yet authoritative voice.
A few students mumbled weak responses.
She didn't wait. She turned to the blackboard and wrote in crisp, neat handwriting:
Riemann Integration
"This," she said, underlining the words, "is one of the most important topics in Real Analysis. You might have done basic integration in school, but here, we take it to a deeper level."
Aritra nodded slightly. She wasn't wasting time. Good.
Vikram, meanwhile, leaned toward Sumit and whispered, "She looks serious."
Sumit, not even pretending to open his notebook, muttered back, "And she's kinda hot."
Rakesh rolled his eyes. "Can you two focus for once?"
Dr. Sharma turned back to the class, adjusting her glasses slightly. "Integration is not just about finding areas under curves. It is about approximation, limits, and precision. We begin with the definition."
She wrote:
"The Riemann sum of a function f(x) over an interval [a, b] is given by the sum Σ f(xi) Δxi as the partitioning of the interval becomes infinitely fine."
"Can anyone tell me what this means?" she asked, turning toward the class.
Silence.
Sumit nudged Vikram. "Say something, bro."
Vikram shot him a look. "I'd rather get eaten by wolves."
Dr. Sharma waited five seconds before continuing. "Fine. Since no one seems to know, let's break it down."
She started explaining with graphical representations, drawing rectangles under a curve, explaining how the sum of their areas approximated the integral.
Aritra, of course, had already studied this before, but he listened carefully. Even if you knew a topic, how a professor taught it could give you new perspectives.
Halfway through the class, she called out, "You. What is a partition in Riemann Integration?"
Aritra looked up, realizing she was pointing at him.
He casually replied, "A partition is a division of the interval [a, b] into subintervals, used to approximate the integral. The more subintervals, the finer the approximation."
Dr. Sharma raised an eyebrow, nodding approvingly. "Good. Seems like at least one of you has studied before."
Sumit turned to Vikram, whispering, "Bro, our guy is flexing."
Vikram chuckled. "He's built different."
Dr. Sharma continued, moving quickly but efficiently, making sure that at least some students were keeping up. By the time the bell rang, most of the class looked drained.
Sumit rubbed his eyes. "I understood about 40% of that."
Vikram stretched. "Better than 0%."
Aritra smirked. "She's tough, but fair. Not bad."
They had survived another class.
One more to go before lunch.
1:00 PM – 2:00 PM: Basic Electronics – Professor Bose (57, The Nostalgic Storyteller)
The classroom for Basic Electronics was slightly different. Older, dustier, and the benches creaked if you sat down too hard.
And then Professor Bose walked in.
He was nothing like the previous professors. Instead of rushing into equations, he slowly placed his books on the desk, adjusted his glasses, and smiled warmly.
"Good afternoon, students," he said, his voice calm and measured.
The class responded weakly.
Professor Bose chuckled. "Ah, I see. First-day exhaustion already? Don't worry, I won't overload you with theory today."
Aritra leaned back. Finally. A professor who wasn't trying to kill them.
Instead of diving into diodes and resistors, Bose spent the first ten minutes talking about his own college life.
How Engineering was "better" in the 1970sHow he met his wife in a resistor labWhy Analog Circuits were superior to Digital
Vikram, halfway through, whispered, "Bro, are we in a lecture or a TED Talk?"
Sumit chuckled. "I'm not complaining. This is a break."
Rakesh sighed. "We literally learned nothing."
Aritra just smiled. They would learn electronics eventually. But today… today, they got a free story session.
And honestly? He wasn't complaining either.
The bell rang, signaling the lunch break.
Vikram exhaled dramatically. "Food. Now. Or I die."
Sumit stood up. "Let's go before the entire university takes over the canteen."
Aritra stretched his arms. "Let's go. We earned this."
And with that, they made their way toward the chaotic, glorious world of the JU canteen.
The canteen at Jadavpur University was a melting pot of emotions—relief, exhaustion, hunger, and silent desperation. It was not a fancy food court with polished counters and overpriced lattes. Instead, it was a chaotic sanctuary of steel benches, wooden tables covered in years of scribbled names and phone numbers, and the never-ending scent of fried snacks and over-boiled tea.
Students crowded around the counter, their tired eyes scanning the menu that hadn't changed in a decade. Some first-years clutched their bags, still recovering from their morning lectures, while seniors, battle-hardened and immune to academic stress, sat in clusters, casually laughing at the suffering of their juniors.
Aritra and his group claimed one of the wooden tables in the corner, the familiar creak of the bench barely audible over the chatter of the crowd.
Vikram stretched his arms and sighed. "I swear to God, that Mechanics class just took five years off my life."
Sumit nodded, scanning the menu board. "I didn't understand a single thing Banerjee said. I think at some point, I just started writing random equations to make myself feel useful."
Rakesh adjusted his glasses. "Banerjee is like a Formula 1 car, and we're all driving cycles on the highway. The guy doesn't slow down."
Aritra smirked. "Welcome to JU, where the professors expect you to be born with engineering knowledge."
Sumit sighed dramatically. "Forget classes, man. Right now, all I care about is food."
He turned toward the counter. "Four chicken rolls, one tea, and an iced tea."
The canteen worker barely looked up, jotting down the order with practiced efficiency.
Vikram leaned back, rubbing his temples. "I have a feeling this chicken roll is going to be the best part of my day."
Sumit grinned. "That's because food is the only thing that makes sense anymore."
Rakesh shook his head. "You guys are way too relaxed. We still have classes left, you know?"
Vikram sighed. "I don't want to think about that right now. Just let me enjoy this moment before reality hits again."
As their food arrived, the group fell silent for a moment, each taking their first bite of the warm, crispy, spicy chicken rolls.
Sumit exhaled. "This… this is why I came to college."
Aritra chuckled. "Not for education?"
Sumit shook his head, mouth still full. "Nope. For moments like this."
Just then, two familiar faces walked over—Arun and Rohit, two students from their class, looking completely defeated.
Arun slumped into the seat across from them, his tray untouched. "Banerjee ruined me. I don't even have the energy to eat."
Rohit nodded in agreement. "I saw my future flash before my eyes in that classroom, and it wasn't good."
Sumit grinned. "First time?"
Arun groaned. "I thought I was ready. I really did. But no amount of preparation could have saved me from that."
Aritra smirked, sipping his iced tea. "The sooner you accept it, the easier life gets here."
Rakesh, ever the rational one, sighed. "Honestly, the only way to survive is to study in groups. Otherwise, we're all doomed."
Vikram leaned back. "Or… we just show up for labs and exams and ignore the rest."
Sumit pointed at him. "That is the JU way."
They clinked their chicken rolls together like a toast, sealing their silent pact of survival.
Outside, the sun continued to burn over the old, chaotic campus, where students from different backgrounds and dreams clashed, collaborated, and occasionally gave up halfway through the semester.
And yet, despite the madness of the first day, Aritra couldn't help but smirk at the sheer absurdity of it all.
This… this was going to be one hell of a four years.
Engineering Drawing – The Chill Professor (2:30 PM - 5:30 PM)
The classroom for Engineering Drawing was different from the lecture halls. It was spacious, filled with large wooden drawing boards, T-squares, set squares, and drafting sheets neatly stacked on the side tables.
Aritra and his group walked in, still chewing the last bites of their chicken rolls, and found seats near the back.
A few minutes later, Professor Ravi Iyer walked in—a 35-year-old man dressed in casual formal wear, carrying a coffee cup in one hand and a stack of papers in the other.
He placed his papers down, stretched his arms, and without any formal greeting, said:
"Alright, students. Draw a straight line."
Silence.
Half the class exchanged glances.
Vikram leaned over to Sumit. "Is this some kind of trick question?"
Sumit shrugged. "Bro, after today's classes, even a straight line feels complicated."
Aritra smirked, grabbing his pencil and ruler. "Relax. This is the one class where they won't try to murder us."
The professor, still sipping his coffee, casually walked around as students fumbled with their instruments, adjusting their drawing boards and set squares.
"Let's see how bad your line-drawing skills are," he said, glancing over at the students' first attempts. "Most of you will make a disaster out of something as simple as this."
Sure enough, some students had shaky, uneven lines. Others somehow managed to make their 'straight' line look like a wave.
Professor Iyer sighed. "Well, at least no one managed to draw a perfect circle instead. That has happened before."
Vikram, who had drawn a very wobbly line, muttered, "This is embarrassing."
Sumit nudged him. "Better than the time you tried to draw a rectangle and ended up with a parallelogram."
Vikram groaned. "Don't remind me."
For the next few hours, they practiced simple geometric constructions—lines, angles, circles, and orthographic projections. The professor moved around the room casually, helping those who were struggling and occasionally cracking jokes about how half the class might fail if they didn't learn how to use their T-squares properly.
By the time the clock hit 5:30 PM, Aritra sat back, stretching his arms.
Vikram closed his notebook. "Finally, a subject that won't try to kill us."
Sumit exhaled, packing up his instruments. "Yeah. Just let me draw some nice, straight lines, and I'm happy."
As the students filed out of the classroom, the campus was already bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.
Outside, students from all departments were scattered across the lawns, some heading to the canteen for an evening snack, others sitting under trees finishing up their drawings.
Aritra looked around, watching the life of JU unfold before him.
"One day down," Vikram said, stretching, "A thousand more to go."
Sumit yawned. "If every day is like this, I might actually become religious."
Rakesh shook his head. "You guys say this now, but by the end of the semester, you'll be the ones skipping classes and freaking out the night before exams."
Vikram grinned. "That's the tradition, isn't it?"
Aritra smirked as he walked with them toward the exit. College had truly begun.