The Hostel All-Tell

If I said that I fell in violent and irrevocable love as soon as I stepped about a year ago into the large, bustling building that is Sharavati Hostel, I would be making a laughable (not to mention: wholly unbelievable ) attempt at a gigantic falsehood.

 I was perhaps not unlike one of those pitiable little scared-out-of-their-wits mice you imagine caught squealing and kicking in a trap (that appeared as if out of nowhere!) so entirely unknown to them. Quite irrationally, I was wildly accusative toward my parents for unceremoniously kicking me out and dumping me into this (gulp) strange, unfamiliar territory full of so many intelligent, intimidating, and (if rumours were to be believed) rare creatures: girls on campus.

                Of course, about a week into my stay there, I was having the time of my life (really, it was as if the mouse had been freed into a private heaven made wholly of cheese).  The oft-mentioned, cheesy, clichéd saying of hostel life being the most memorable time of your life, I was firmly on my way to whole-heartedly acknowledging to be true.

A series of ‘interactions’ were destined to signify the commencement of my life here. These were completely innocent and as angelic as the seniors I had these singing-dancing-gen-fun intro sessions with (I was definitely not told to say that)! Every lost little fresh(ie) face became a fast friend, and we were already running head-on into night-outs full of laughter and heart-to-hearts. Predictably, adjusting to life on our own was different from the mummy’s-kids treatment we were used to, but seeing as pretty much everyone was in the same boat left us admirably unconcerned.

In this first year, we lived three or four to a cramped room, officially that is. Of course, one of these was always chosen as the general, unmentioned hang-out location. It was left only for a bed at night, a giggly brushing-session with at least five others, a hunt for an unoccupied, working, clean bathing stall, or alternatively, a washing-machine of similar description.

We lived in envy of the seniors who lived one or two to a room, and in awe of their all-knowing, or so it seemed, presence. They pretty much kept us afloat and saved us from sinking into a storm of new information. They also gave us our first lessons in insti lingo. “Gen putting peace” is now indispensable to us.

Hurrying five floors down to fill up our water bottles, mumbling to ourselves of the inconvenience of every dispenser on every intermediate floor being extraordinarily empty, and chatting with the security lady once there is a routine in Sharavati. As is scouring for movies, songs, lectures, notes, papers, every heard-of thing in existence on the LAN we cannot live without. DC++ is dearer to us than our dearest friends.

Granted, the lizards took some getting used to, but I love all the other creatures I met there! Food is common property, and I’m not talking about among us humans alone. Monkeys feel themselves entitled to barging into our rooms and snatching our dearest eatables, often just as we are about to taste them. Brooms transform into the deadliest weapons in our fearless hands at such opportunities to display bravery!

The notice board of announcements right opposite the ground-floor dispenser is the most visited place in the building (the full-length mirror next to it may be instrumental to its popularity). It is our window to opportunities in the institute, be it robotics, chess, dance, music, theatre, sport, literary or any other event. There is something for everyone on that beloved black board!

The colourful way Holi is celebrated here I will not forget. Election time sees extensive campaigning as we choose the most eligible leaders to manage affairs in their third year at Sharavati. Exam time sees extensive cramming, and is largely a combined freaking-out session, often lasting all night. Inter-hostel competitions are even more assiduously prepared for, with multiple night-outs. There is always something happening at this dear place (pun intended)! And a year into my stay, I can now safely say: I am most violently (and irrevocably) in love with the wonder that is my life in Sharavati Hostel.