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 1st 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 …..
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