Reflections : My Journey as a SIMC student

Chapter 2

Room no 556

Having feeling better being consoled and comforted by Parag, I headed back to my new abode, Room 556. It was a hard time looking for it. For one I wasn’t in the frame of mind as I entered with mom and dad, nor in the frame of mind now after they left, to even consider the concept of DIRECTIONS to play in my mind. Taking the help from the hostel guard thankfully, I found my way out.

The moment I stepped into the corridor, another realization dawned upon me, our room was the ONLY junior room in a corridor filled wid seniors! “uh oh” blurted my mind but entering a 3 seater room can be a comforting thought at the same time. The room is large, spacious enough to even play a miniature gully cricket!  3 beds—evenly spaced wid a study table and chair each. Shelves dedicated to pile ur books, puja ghar, food whatever, a cupboard each and a separate washroom and a separate bathing room, and your ready with your ghar grihasti !!

I was greeted with the warm smile from Pooja, who sat on the right side of the room on her bed doing some “khichir pichir” on her laptop (her usual habit that Im now well versed with! ) To my surprise I was greeted with another smile to the girl on my left. She sat there wearing a spaghetti and shorts and before I could ask for her introduction, she smiled and said , “Hi am Mansi”—Mansi Bagga , my roomie no 2.

My first impression about Mansi, was that she was confused with life and am not saying this on the basis of her Hi’s but before she made an appearance. As I was arranging my bed, I saw the two sides who I’ll be spending my 2 years with—while Pooja’s side was neat and clean, Mansi’s side witnessed cyclone Katrina---suit case opened, hair iron lying promptly like a cherry on a cake pile of clothes. However, as time passed the living habits between my 2 roomies interchanged!

Our room was unique for various other reasons---

• Mansi was from PR, Pooja from AD and me from Journalism
• Mansi was XS, Pooja was M and me..well L
• Pooja hardly spoke and when she did we could hardly hear, Mansi had her spurts of talking but I know for a fact she can’t stay without it, and me non-stop bakar party!
• Pooja and Mansi were the only 2 NRI girls in our batch, Pooja was from Dubai, Mansi from Bangkok and Me ..LOLOL who cares I have 2 FOREN maal’s wid me now!!

Together we formed the TERRIFIC trio! And Im glad we continue for round 2 this year again J

My phone buzzed with another message. This time it was another classmate I met on the FB page, Mohnish Bose. He had heard from Parag about my arrival and willingly wanted to take me out on a Campus tour. Considering a sweet gesture I tagged along. We passed by the mess and walked straight to the academic block and I see 2 girls giggling away amongst each other. Mohnish introduces the two as Poonam Nanaware and Reshma Raju Emmatty. For me they are like Romeo and Juliet now, who thought they were meant together but circumstantially separated.

These two, though one of them has now moved on , were the 1^st friends I had here at SIMC. In a way I thank both of them for making me less mellow about my separation with mom and dad.

They took me to what I consider heaven on Earth--- they took me to the amphitheater. In the darkness of the night, I saw the city of Pune gleam from high above like one million fireflies – A view one only recalls seeing as a flight takes off and the city reduces to a Lego toy on a shelf and men reduce to ants.

Sitting high above while the world stands below your feet gives a different high all together, for once you feel like Jack Dawson of Titanic, opening your arms stretched wide open and shouting “am the King of the world” *in this case I’m the princess*. My tears evaporated and my frown inverted I thought to myself “I will make it here” and silently smiled.

We reached the mess around 8:30 ish to have my first meal at SIMC. There is depletion of resources and there is abundance of resources and then there’s SIU mess—a perfect mix of the first to points. But then again as my senior Danny points out “you can eat crappy food every day alone..or you can eat eat crappy food every day in the presence of beautiful women” and FRIENDS if I may add .

Another SIMC ritual was realized as we ate---the power cut ritual, bringing out the beast in all of us as the lights in the mess went kaput for a short time, and where u hear people howling, whistling and doing the  “ooga mooga’s” at high decibel levels till the lights came back on and people behaved as though nothing happened. For the first time in my life I bizarrely wish that power cuts take place as frequently as possible at nights! But, oh the efficient management of SIU!

The deadline to enter the hostel I was told 12 midnight…

"sheesh I had come into a fairytale, the Cinderella deadline was there to prove it now” I jokingly thought to myself and smiled. 

As we walked down, the hostel roadway reminded me of Mamta Banerjee’s meetings on the Esplanade Metro roadway---it was filled people…well sitting down on the roads and the leader of the pack was this tall plumpy looking fellow with the ultimate weapon of war----the  GUITAR!!!

The people, sat there singing to this guy’s tunes, a guy called Vidyadhar Raghvan AKA Viddu, a true gem who wants to be like AR Rahman someday and considers Music and food as his “Fuel” *paradox* for life ;). They say Music heals all wounds and clears all sorrows and for a moment I was actually having fun.

Time flew and the clock struck 12—the crowd dispersed like fluttering pigeons, I enter my room. I see Pooja already fast asleep and Mansi on her laptop. I switch off all lights to call it a day, when I hear Mansi squeal like a small innocent child 

“Am scared of the dark”

Smiling sweetly I turn on the night light and retire for the night. 

My first night in an alien world, in an alien room, no back ups but still a faint hope as to everything being allright……..

What happens with me the next day?

Read on to Move on …..

Reflections : My Journey as a SIMC student

Chapter 1- New Beginnings

They say sunsets bring out the philosopher in a person. It’s not really true- wherever u are and whatever u do the key catalyst to reflect your thoughts down on a piece of paper is MOOD. Be it in the baking sun, or a bad day at work, if u have the mood to write u can churn out quite a few masterpieces (it did work for J.K . Rowling on a moving train didn’t it).

The weather in Calcutta at the moment is every romantic’s delight. The cold wind gushing in, and the little droplets of water spraying on my face through the window, will make every girly girl out here want to be with someone special, holding hands and getting drenched in the rain. For me, the weather works as what works during sunset by the sea side- it’s bringing the philosopher me, out.

As the rain gushes down the streets, I sit and reflect the journey of my life gone by in this one year.  This one year has taught me the art of survival, something that was long overdue in this cocoon called HOME.

The thought of hostel life scared the hell out of me since childhood. I used to consider it a means of doing something really offensive to mom and dad to attain this punishment—sort of like being  a criminal and staying in jail for so and so years. Mom and Dad on the other hand used these “hostel” threats to make humans out of me and bro.

Studying in a Christian missionary school and a Convent  College didn’t help either, rather it lead to conservation of thoughts towards life. I mean if u had teachers and missionaries male bashing in the name of “value education” what do you expect??

Getting a call from institutes like TSJ, TISS, ACJ, XIC, Christ University and SIMC were a sigh of relief . After numerous personal issues, I really required a break from this city. City of Joy didn’t seem joyous at the moment. Narrowing down to SIMC seemed a pretty good decision at that moment. Staying on a hill isolated from the hustle bustle of city life was just what the doctor ordered.

Who knew what I was about to encounter was something more than the idea of “getting away from it all” would do.

Joining SIMC PUNE GROUP 2012 was the first step---made quite a lot of friends  starting with Parag Gopale, whose 1^st interaction wid me was on my FB inbox was whether I was getting a Dell or an Acer laptop. He later on became my eyes and ears of SIMC mentioning all the happenings at campus till my arrival—from the boys hostel madness to just the weather.There was Chintan Buch who enlightened me with the fact I shared a room with a guy in the Boys Hostel and enjoyed this fact more than I could digest it! Kingshuk Dutta , my proposed roomie who I now wish every day of my life to be my roomie.

Joining a week later than the others , had a different flavor to it all. For once u feel like a shiny new toy on the shelf who others die to grab hold of. There were texts, wall posts, inbox messages from people who I didn’t even know from college updating me about every little details of what happened in and around SIMC. Kinda gave me a superior feeling for the first time in my life.

Apprehensions, excitement, sadness all seem to imbibe together in this weird sort of mixture on my mind. The 4 hour flight from Calcutta to Mumbai; and an additional 4 hours drive on the highway to Pune, added fuel to the fire.

I remember the excitement and weirdness felt at the same time when mom and dad sat there in my allotted room no 556 and arranged my stuff. Kinda felt like getting married or something and settiling in my new home *bleh*, when suddenly enters this curly hair chic wid specs, dawning a formal shirt and pants. Pooja Udaikumar was her name, she smiled and greeted me to the room with utmost warmth brimming from her 2 inch smile- my roomie no 1.

The time had come for mom and dad to go and leave me behind. We sobbed, we hugged, we promised to look after ourselves and ultimately we had to do the most crucial thing---- we had to let go. I was now beginning to understand how young Ishaan Nandkishore Awasthi felt when his parents and brother left him fending for himself in the hostel at New Era School, Panchgani. The “ma” song played in the background, as the Indica left the campus, leaving me, more than just teary eyed---wailing buckets.

I sat outside the recreation centre crying as if punished for doing something insanely wrong when a FB notification buzzed on my cell . 

It was Parag and it said “hey ..where are u? u were supposed to come today right? Waiting to see u buddy”

The reply  : “Im outside girls hostel crying..missing ma and pa already”

Meanwhile outside the hostel stood a girl who had been watching me mope like a sad puppy.

“Hey, everything ok?” she asked.

“No, Am sorry its my first time at a hostel, kinda home sick already”, said I.

“Aww I understand, I felt the same when my parents dropped me here..” and before she could say anything further , I felt a warm embrace around me like Munnabhai’s Jaadoo Ki Jhappi. Till today I share a special bond with that angel everyone know as Madhuri Joshi.

“Dunworry, Im in room 625, if u need anything at all” she smiled and left.

Enters Parag who looked as jubiliant as in his FB dp.

“Hey why are u crying? Ur a strong girl ya..dunworry, once u meet new people u feel fine “said he.

Indeed I did encounter many individuals, some I got along well, some not really, some who annoyed me, some who I annoyed.

The next few episodes will showcase how truly adventurous my life at SIMC is. So what if Im a silent observer who seems cut off from the rest,  yet annoying the crap out of some! 

Read on to Move on ;)