For the college magazine

Uninteresting as it already is with all the variety, salad was missing from the menu.

Considering the peaceful geographical locations where most of us hail from, it was a sensation! The street across the hostel being featured on national television, smoke bombs, silence penetrating the corners of the city, screeching rescue vans zipping the isolated roads, local casualties and trauma centers flooded with patients, calls from worried folks, etc. With the university exams just around the corner and a legitimate reason for missing posting, getting safely locked up in the hostel seemed like an ideal circumstance. Little did we know what else the curfew had to offer.

It is amusing how might is always right and there is no place for logic in mass mentality. Seeing gargantuan amounts of man power directed towards atrocities and trivial fights is depressing.

If you are the kind who likes to roll eyes, ridicule and laugh at others, lot of situations were lined up. Day 1 was relatively smooth. Most made productive use of the available time. Though the mess mostly served only rice and plain salted dal, people ate sincerely and certain ones with cautious foresight even stored some in bottles and mugs. (Situation #1) Towards end of day 2, junk food was getting exhausted, air was stale and there was monotony. The adversity had begun to flush off Fido Dido’s “Normal is boring” cool fad and restlessness had settled in.

With empty stomachs, panic struck grandly. On day 3, LPG got over. Breakfast was two slices of bread. Most miss breakfast on bread-days unless eggs interest them. But that particular day, there was a long queue in the mess. Girls quietly collected their share. Although, there is no campus, the sultry weather deserves 150 words of abuse, some toilets have non functional flushes, there is no ‘metropolitan life’, this place is home now. There are some who don’t agree. The type who complain. Even they were in the queue, picking up the end slices also. (Situation #2)

Old furniture was burnt to make lunch that day. That evening the queue to the tuck shop extended till two floors for 100 ml tea and glucose biscuits. However as it had hardly progressed a couple of yards the rare commodities were exhausted. For me, that was precisely when my spirit broke. (Sensation/adversity/national news, remember? & situation #3)

More than anything, it was the uncertainty that was disturbing. We were bored, hungry and frustrated. De-stressing techniques included playing peek-a-boo with policemen from rooms facing the main road, knocking on a grouchy senior’s door and running away, etc.

Two hours relaxation period was announced on day 4. Hysteria followed. Not that we were allowed to cross the gate, but the different rule in boys hostel was enough to make a difference. Every girl was talking over mobile phone and within minutes the front of the entrance was buzzing with activity. The excitement of reunion, sighs of relief and interwined fingers through the gaps of the railing completed the picture. Romance was in the air and the forcefully controlled emotions surfaced like toothpaste upon suddenly uncapping a compressed brand new tube. Knights in shining armour, and saviours walked towards the guard (mediator) with goodies laden polythene bags. Some had parked the bikes far on purpose to make the ramp long and have more moments of fame. (Situation #4)


Every room was loaded with milk, instant noodles, biscuits, chips. Neighbourhood restaurants were taking orders. Never had the sight of food made me so triumphantly joyful.

When the intensity of bonding is assessed by the size of an Archies card and what you buy for someone depends on what you had got from the same, the curfew was a superb excuse to avoid buying birthday gifts.

News was that next day onwards, it would be ok to attend postings. However just to be safe, we were locked up for one more day. We got the terrace opened and acted like it was liberation day.