Today, as I walked from my hostel towards our college canteen to have a cup of coffee, I saw a boy and his mom hugging each other firmly and crying profusely. The father, I presume, was consoling both of them and asking them not to create a scene. And a few feet apart from them, I could see another family holding hands together and crying silently (probably a family from a richer background!).
These were scenes I had gotten used to in the past two years I had seen new guys and girls being left at their hostels by their parents. And so, this time was no different from those. But these scenes never failed to bring a gentle smile on my face looking at the unsaturated affection of the parents on their kids. They also unconsciously brought to my mind the day three years ago when I stood in a very similar way, pleading and begging my mom to stay a few more moments, despite the security guard of our hostel continually shouting at the two of us that it was already half an hour past the time allotted for the parents to stay with their kids.
I still remember even the clothing I wore that day - an orange t-shirt over a dark-blue jeans. Even while entering the college premises with my mom, carrying more luggage than a boy would require even if he is left stranded on the Antarctic islands, I had not realized the magnitude of the situation. I had guessed that it was going to be very difficult being separated from home after having been showered limitless affection for the 17 years I had spent in it. But that moment, as my mom stood a few feet away from our hostel entrance and lifted her hand to wave me good-bye, it seemed as if my world had come to an end.
It had all seemed so normal earlier.
We had entered the hostel and as a few volunteers helped us identify the room that had been allocated for me, my mom had quickly entered the room and had taken a good look around. None of my other three room mates had arrived. She had immediately looked at where the windows were, where the shelves were, where the tube-light had been fixed and had immediately placed the luggage on a cot that was according to her, the best one with the ample light, the ample breeze and closer to the shelves. My poor mother didn't know then that in hostels, your bed is not just your property but it easily becomes the property of every one of your friends.
Anyways coming back, she had started to take my things out of my bags and spreading out old newspapers on the shelves, she had started arranging the things - the highest shelf belonged to the respectful idols of Gods, the second shelf was filled with daily-used products like oil, comb, etc. with the lowest shelf provided to my clothes, which had two more newspapers covering them once they had been arranged neatly, to protect them from dust. She had then started giving me instructions, for the seventh time since the day I had got an admission to my college and it had been confirmed that I had to stay at the hostel, about all the things to do and not-to-do at hostel. Even now, whenever I think about all those instructions that my mom had given me, I just can not help laughing as none of those instructions seem possible at a hostel - like for instance, the most important thing she stressed upon was for me to go to bed early by around 10 pm and wake up everyday by around 6 am. Now, after all these years at hostel, even for a single night, when I try lying down and pulling my blanket over my head at any time around 10 pm, the first thing my room mates ask me - "Are you not feeling well?"
It is an unwritten rule in hostels that the sleeping time starts only after 12:30-1 am and anytime you sleep before that, the people around automatically assume that you are not feeling well. And when a person wakes up anytime before 7:30 am for the classes that start everyday by 8:40, he is considered an insomniac.
But my mom did not know all these unwritten rules about hostels then and she had kept giving me instructions in length. I had kept nodding at every pause she gave between each of the instructions. As she had finally ended her 'instruction' session after about 20 minutes, arrived one of my room-mates. The parents had greeted each other and had started exchanging their working and residing details. I had looked closely at the guy who was going to be my room-mate. With his hair cut to its shortest, rectangular spectacles resting over his nose and a wide grin, he had looked the picture of innocence and obedience. I had forced a smile upon my face and shook his hand lethargically. "My son is a very good boy. But this is the first time he is going to stay away from me. So, you must also take care of him a bit", said my mom to that boy. "That guy himself looks like he needs to be taken care of. And you want him to take care of me?" I had asked my mom after we came out of the room. "Don't talk like that. You are going to stay in a hostel and you need to change this arrogant attitude. That boy seems like a very nice fellow. His mom also told me that he is very studious. So you better become good friends with him and both of you start helping each other out in your studies once the tests begin", she had said. I had not wanted to oppose my mom and become a victim of another of her advice sessions and remained silent. But I had not had even the slightest idea then that I would go on to become very close friends with that guy and spend most of my time at hostel, bunking classes and watching movies with him, to my mom's horror later. As my mom and I had slowly descended the stairs from my room to the hostel entrance, I had slowly felt my heart becoming heavier.
But it was only as I realized that my mom was going to leave my side in a few minutes and I had to spend the next month and a half before the 3-day holiday to visit our homes that I felt my entire body trembling. I quickly grabbed my mom's hand. She looked at me and looking at my face that had begin to sweat, she understood my panic and patted me saying that it would be alright soon. I had little confidence in her words and we walked silently to the entrance of the hostel. The security guard near the entrance shouted to my mom that she had to leave as it was past the allotted time. My mom gave him a nasty look and gave me a quick recap of all the 'to-do and not-to-do at hostel' instructions (eighth time!). I was not in a mood to nod to her instructions as the feeling of loneliness had already started to sink in. I just kept looking at her, my eyes ready to open their tear-gates. My mom once again comforted me saying that it would become a very liked place by me soon and handed me a few hundred rupee notes and her ATM card, saying that she would deposit further cash in her account. I couldn't understand how my mom could be so clear-headed even then. Wasn't she undergoing any kind of emotional turmoil inside? Did she consider it a relief to be separated from me? A lot of questions kept bouncing around my head as tears flooded my eyes. I had told myself earlier that I was going to be a man and not shed any tears but at that moment, it seemed impossible.
"Aren't you going to cry?" I asked my mom, who kept patting on my shoulder trying to console me. She was a bit taken aback by my question and let out a chuckle. A few minutes later, as the security guard started shouting very harshly at my mom asking her to leave, she kept forward the steps that marked our separation.
As I unknowingly smiled remembering all these that happened that day three years ago, I looked at the guys who were crying holding onto their parents and thought to myself that they too would soon be smiling some time later remembering the incidents that happened on their first day of hostel life.
After all, a hosteller might forget even his last day at hostel but he would never forget his first day there.
These were scenes I had gotten used to in the past two years I had seen new guys and girls being left at their hostels by their parents. And so, this time was no different from those. But these scenes never failed to bring a gentle smile on my face looking at the unsaturated affection of the parents on their kids. They also unconsciously brought to my mind the day three years ago when I stood in a very similar way, pleading and begging my mom to stay a few more moments, despite the security guard of our hostel continually shouting at the two of us that it was already half an hour past the time allotted for the parents to stay with their kids.
I still remember even the clothing I wore that day - an orange t-shirt over a dark-blue jeans. Even while entering the college premises with my mom, carrying more luggage than a boy would require even if he is left stranded on the Antarctic islands, I had not realized the magnitude of the situation. I had guessed that it was going to be very difficult being separated from home after having been showered limitless affection for the 17 years I had spent in it. But that moment, as my mom stood a few feet away from our hostel entrance and lifted her hand to wave me good-bye, it seemed as if my world had come to an end.
It had all seemed so normal earlier.
We had entered the hostel and as a few volunteers helped us identify the room that had been allocated for me, my mom had quickly entered the room and had taken a good look around. None of my other three room mates had arrived. She had immediately looked at where the windows were, where the shelves were, where the tube-light had been fixed and had immediately placed the luggage on a cot that was according to her, the best one with the ample light, the ample breeze and closer to the shelves. My poor mother didn't know then that in hostels, your bed is not just your property but it easily becomes the property of every one of your friends.
Anyways coming back, she had started to take my things out of my bags and spreading out old newspapers on the shelves, she had started arranging the things - the highest shelf belonged to the respectful idols of Gods, the second shelf was filled with daily-used products like oil, comb, etc. with the lowest shelf provided to my clothes, which had two more newspapers covering them once they had been arranged neatly, to protect them from dust. She had then started giving me instructions, for the seventh time since the day I had got an admission to my college and it had been confirmed that I had to stay at the hostel, about all the things to do and not-to-do at hostel. Even now, whenever I think about all those instructions that my mom had given me, I just can not help laughing as none of those instructions seem possible at a hostel - like for instance, the most important thing she stressed upon was for me to go to bed early by around 10 pm and wake up everyday by around 6 am. Now, after all these years at hostel, even for a single night, when I try lying down and pulling my blanket over my head at any time around 10 pm, the first thing my room mates ask me - "Are you not feeling well?"
It is an unwritten rule in hostels that the sleeping time starts only after 12:30-1 am and anytime you sleep before that, the people around automatically assume that you are not feeling well. And when a person wakes up anytime before 7:30 am for the classes that start everyday by 8:40, he is considered an insomniac.
But my mom did not know all these unwritten rules about hostels then and she had kept giving me instructions in length. I had kept nodding at every pause she gave between each of the instructions. As she had finally ended her 'instruction' session after about 20 minutes, arrived one of my room-mates. The parents had greeted each other and had started exchanging their working and residing details. I had looked closely at the guy who was going to be my room-mate. With his hair cut to its shortest, rectangular spectacles resting over his nose and a wide grin, he had looked the picture of innocence and obedience. I had forced a smile upon my face and shook his hand lethargically. "My son is a very good boy. But this is the first time he is going to stay away from me. So, you must also take care of him a bit", said my mom to that boy. "That guy himself looks like he needs to be taken care of. And you want him to take care of me?" I had asked my mom after we came out of the room. "Don't talk like that. You are going to stay in a hostel and you need to change this arrogant attitude. That boy seems like a very nice fellow. His mom also told me that he is very studious. So you better become good friends with him and both of you start helping each other out in your studies once the tests begin", she had said. I had not wanted to oppose my mom and become a victim of another of her advice sessions and remained silent. But I had not had even the slightest idea then that I would go on to become very close friends with that guy and spend most of my time at hostel, bunking classes and watching movies with him, to my mom's horror later. As my mom and I had slowly descended the stairs from my room to the hostel entrance, I had slowly felt my heart becoming heavier.
But it was only as I realized that my mom was going to leave my side in a few minutes and I had to spend the next month and a half before the 3-day holiday to visit our homes that I felt my entire body trembling. I quickly grabbed my mom's hand. She looked at me and looking at my face that had begin to sweat, she understood my panic and patted me saying that it would be alright soon. I had little confidence in her words and we walked silently to the entrance of the hostel. The security guard near the entrance shouted to my mom that she had to leave as it was past the allotted time. My mom gave him a nasty look and gave me a quick recap of all the 'to-do and not-to-do at hostel' instructions (eighth time!). I was not in a mood to nod to her instructions as the feeling of loneliness had already started to sink in. I just kept looking at her, my eyes ready to open their tear-gates. My mom once again comforted me saying that it would become a very liked place by me soon and handed me a few hundred rupee notes and her ATM card, saying that she would deposit further cash in her account. I couldn't understand how my mom could be so clear-headed even then. Wasn't she undergoing any kind of emotional turmoil inside? Did she consider it a relief to be separated from me? A lot of questions kept bouncing around my head as tears flooded my eyes. I had told myself earlier that I was going to be a man and not shed any tears but at that moment, it seemed impossible.
"Aren't you going to cry?" I asked my mom, who kept patting on my shoulder trying to console me. She was a bit taken aback by my question and let out a chuckle. A few minutes later, as the security guard started shouting very harshly at my mom asking her to leave, she kept forward the steps that marked our separation.
As I unknowingly smiled remembering all these that happened that day three years ago, I looked at the guys who were crying holding onto their parents and thought to myself that they too would soon be smiling some time later remembering the incidents that happened on their first day of hostel life.
After all, a hosteller might forget even his last day at hostel but he would never forget his first day there.
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