Hey!
After all the "ragging" and weekend fun, we finally resigned ourselves to the fact that we will have to attend SOME classes, if not all. We consulted with our seniors and they unanimously said, "Don't create a bad impression in DADH". We heard them, nodded our heads, and decided that we'll just go and see what transpires there. Tuesday was the next class, and we, like the "good" guys that we were, decided to attend class. We got into the practical hall, four tables, 40 chairs and a big table where five, and i emphasize FIVE professors were sitting and eying every single one of us as if judging which one to crucify first.
I was least bothered by all this and was happily downloading songs on my mobile phone, even while sitting at the table closest to the professor's table. By some unfortunate stroke of luck, my roll number was 13, and i would rue the day that i was cursed with the unluckiest of unlucky numbers. Class was normal, nothing out of the ordinary, no excessive scolding or dressing downs. This gave us the impression that this department wasn't so bad, maybe its over rated, just a figment of people's imagination. I decided, "well, fuck this, I'll attend when i want to" and thus the saga of bunking classes began in earnest for me.
The rest of the departments, namely Anatomy, Physiology and Biochemistry were a joke. every Monday morning, we would sit in the anatomy practical hall, beside a dozen corpses and spend our time shooting the bull, taking photos and keeping a count of how many people fainted each day. Lectures were spent dozing in the last bench, keeping up an impression of utmost concentration while dreaming about unmentionable things while the professor droned on and on. Believe me, the professor would start dictating notes at the beginning of each class, and would go on without a break for an hour. At the beginning, everyone would be writing, then some people would miss a word, and stop, then some more people would follow suit. By the end of the class, only the front benchers were keeping up with the professor's steady stream of knowledge, while the rest of the class dozed, played games or stared glassy eyed at the professor's face.
The rest of the day was uneventful. When we returned to the hostel in the evening, we were all summoned to a room adjoining the manager's office. When we entered, we were greeted with the sight of an empty chair and table with a flowerpot and a register on it. We stood around the table in silence, all of us, around 100 people, waiting with bated breath for the person who had summoned us there. After about ten minutes of waiting, a guard ushered in a guy, more like THE GUY, six feet tall, muscular and a perpetual annoyed expression on his face. This was our hostel warden, and i thought that no one else could fit the bill so perfectly. His first two questions to us were, "who smokes?", and "who drinks?". As expected, no one had the courage to barefacedly admit that they indulge in those vices. Complete silence. After a bark from the warden, some of us nervously raised their hands, including S, J, A1 and A2, (I was a good guy back then, though good is really a matter of perspective). Immediately, it felt as if all those "brave" people were in the glare of a spotlight. As soon as the warden looked at each of them and asked them their names, they wilted, and i mean literally wilted. After the interrogation was over, and after heaving a huge sigh of relief, we thought finally that the worst was over. But the Warden had one final card up his sleeve. Just before leaving, he said, "For all of you aspiring as well as accomplished troublemakers among you, just remember, There Is Only One Goonda In The Hostel, And That Is ME!" These words didn't just wash over us, they were branded onto our minds and we learned one thing, "This guy is trouble personified".
After our "enlightening" meeting with the Warden, we went to our rooms. I went to S' room and found them blowing clouds of smoke. Of the five of us, only me and A2 were non-smokers. The rest of them were akin to chimneys. As soon as me and A2 entered his room, they started telling us to smoke along with them. I vehemently refused(at first), but gradually gave in to the temptation. The first puff of a cigarette, the first shot of nicotine into my system sent me into a tizzy. The room started spinning and i had to take a time-out while becoming the laughing stock for the rest of the evening. Pretty soon, i was smoking along with the rest of them, though on a much smaller scale, and here i stand, three years from that day, a two pack-a-day man. Two life changing things experienced in a single day, taking DADH for granted and taking up smoking. Two things i would rue ever considering for the rest of my life. That's enough sentimentality for one day, I'll trouble with more of my experiences and problems later.
Peace out, bro.
After all the "ragging" and weekend fun, we finally resigned ourselves to the fact that we will have to attend SOME classes, if not all. We consulted with our seniors and they unanimously said, "Don't create a bad impression in DADH". We heard them, nodded our heads, and decided that we'll just go and see what transpires there. Tuesday was the next class, and we, like the "good" guys that we were, decided to attend class. We got into the practical hall, four tables, 40 chairs and a big table where five, and i emphasize FIVE professors were sitting and eying every single one of us as if judging which one to crucify first.
I was least bothered by all this and was happily downloading songs on my mobile phone, even while sitting at the table closest to the professor's table. By some unfortunate stroke of luck, my roll number was 13, and i would rue the day that i was cursed with the unluckiest of unlucky numbers. Class was normal, nothing out of the ordinary, no excessive scolding or dressing downs. This gave us the impression that this department wasn't so bad, maybe its over rated, just a figment of people's imagination. I decided, "well, fuck this, I'll attend when i want to" and thus the saga of bunking classes began in earnest for me.
The rest of the departments, namely Anatomy, Physiology and Biochemistry were a joke. every Monday morning, we would sit in the anatomy practical hall, beside a dozen corpses and spend our time shooting the bull, taking photos and keeping a count of how many people fainted each day. Lectures were spent dozing in the last bench, keeping up an impression of utmost concentration while dreaming about unmentionable things while the professor droned on and on. Believe me, the professor would start dictating notes at the beginning of each class, and would go on without a break for an hour. At the beginning, everyone would be writing, then some people would miss a word, and stop, then some more people would follow suit. By the end of the class, only the front benchers were keeping up with the professor's steady stream of knowledge, while the rest of the class dozed, played games or stared glassy eyed at the professor's face.
The rest of the day was uneventful. When we returned to the hostel in the evening, we were all summoned to a room adjoining the manager's office. When we entered, we were greeted with the sight of an empty chair and table with a flowerpot and a register on it. We stood around the table in silence, all of us, around 100 people, waiting with bated breath for the person who had summoned us there. After about ten minutes of waiting, a guard ushered in a guy, more like THE GUY, six feet tall, muscular and a perpetual annoyed expression on his face. This was our hostel warden, and i thought that no one else could fit the bill so perfectly. His first two questions to us were, "who smokes?", and "who drinks?". As expected, no one had the courage to barefacedly admit that they indulge in those vices. Complete silence. After a bark from the warden, some of us nervously raised their hands, including S, J, A1 and A2, (I was a good guy back then, though good is really a matter of perspective). Immediately, it felt as if all those "brave" people were in the glare of a spotlight. As soon as the warden looked at each of them and asked them their names, they wilted, and i mean literally wilted. After the interrogation was over, and after heaving a huge sigh of relief, we thought finally that the worst was over. But the Warden had one final card up his sleeve. Just before leaving, he said, "For all of you aspiring as well as accomplished troublemakers among you, just remember, There Is Only One Goonda In The Hostel, And That Is ME!" These words didn't just wash over us, they were branded onto our minds and we learned one thing, "This guy is trouble personified".
After our "enlightening" meeting with the Warden, we went to our rooms. I went to S' room and found them blowing clouds of smoke. Of the five of us, only me and A2 were non-smokers. The rest of them were akin to chimneys. As soon as me and A2 entered his room, they started telling us to smoke along with them. I vehemently refused(at first), but gradually gave in to the temptation. The first puff of a cigarette, the first shot of nicotine into my system sent me into a tizzy. The room started spinning and i had to take a time-out while becoming the laughing stock for the rest of the evening. Pretty soon, i was smoking along with the rest of them, though on a much smaller scale, and here i stand, three years from that day, a two pack-a-day man. Two life changing things experienced in a single day, taking DADH for granted and taking up smoking. Two things i would rue ever considering for the rest of my life. That's enough sentimentality for one day, I'll trouble with more of my experiences and problems later.
Peace out, bro.
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