Once the entire blueprint was drafted using our fingers on the dusty coat on the shelf of room number C6 of Jeevan Villa Boys hostel, me, Anuj, Vaibhav and Gourav , the 4 scumbags , left for the biggest pursuit of our night : to swipe away the bread and butter out of the hostel mess and share the rewards with the hungry fellow mates who had shown this immense faith in us at 3 AM in the midnight. Inspired from scofield and T-bag, the mission was a success and we ended up celebrating with bread and butter with a feeling none less than what Robinhood would have had at his first rendezvous with success.
That’s how it began. 17th September 2008, my first day at this place.
What followed was one heck of an year! It was beyond my expectations and way beyond anyone’s comprehension and also above any 18 year old’s appraisal.
Jeevan Villa boy’s hostel can be described as the laboratory of Dr Heidegger. It was an old cemented structure which was never renovated once affected by the Chernobyl disaster and once you step inside the gallery that contained the washrooms, you’d realize it wasn’t renovated after the Bhopal fart gas tragedy either! The rooms had plasters coming off from the walls and ceilings which leaked consistently. It was painted green, giving it more of an appearance of a Dargah (which was also applicable because of the piles of bedsheets collected in the center of it). the roof-top mess didn’t have a shade. Moreover the improper lights made it absolutely impossible to detect if the pigeon sitting on the window upstairs had ‘dropped’ his blessings in my dal that was prepared by this fat black vest-and-lungi wearing guy whose one hand never stopped scratching his crotch.
Having said that, no prizes for guessing that the place was mostly inhabited by mice and cockroaches. ( we had our own PJ running there that there are more cockroaches and less cocks here in the building).
Now, don’t blame the framework and the management. I mean that was very well expected out of the authorities. But, here comes the problem. Remember what they say about women? That she can beautify any gross venue and can make a paradise out of it. its 100% true. (no pun intended). Which is what I realized when I came here. Because no matter how much a woman denies that shes not into household chores and cleanliness stuff, she’ll never beat men at unhygienic and nastiest avenues. I mean seriously! Respect! We, the dalits of humanity and the social outcastes of cleanliness especially in our later teens , when we say ‘we can manage’ it means ‘we can go without it’.
For instance,
‘we can manage bathing’
‘we can manage washing clothes’
‘we can manage the neatness of the room’
‘we can manage hostel food’
‘we cannot manage porn’
‘we cannot manage sleep’
‘we can never in the wildest dreams manage sex’
I mean if I were to describe you an average 18 year old engineering student. It would go like this:
He stopped hitting on Indian women at some point. She instantly assumed him to be sleazy anyway. He had reputation to protect. Given such poor practice with making conversations with the unknown of the opposite gender, his skills got considerably worse. When he does try his luck now, once in a while, the possible openers get odder still: “You smell really nice….” Creepy! She looks away. He goes back to his drink.
The times you must hang out with other men, just men, is when you’re at a quasi-gay joint celebrating old boys’ reunion of a frustrated boarding school. There are mostly men around at places, which allow men. The topic of conversation is the woman still. This is terrible.
And what adds to the frustration is the impact that the past resentless relationships have had on us. I mean, its ok the chick was ugly, but whats not ok is that SHE left ME! I mean dude! No women can ever LEAVE/DUMP/ABANDON me!
Why>? Because I’m a man! I have this ego! I am a restless bastard! I am a sexist!
I’m getting away from the point here! I decided to write a post on how we survive in engineering, or a hostel, or in a bachelor’s pad, or if nothing, in an off limit world. And I ended up explaining how we survive the nights.
You know what they show in movies ,
At a discotheque? Yes. That would be an ideal place for the lonely soul, seeking a happy ending: a night of casual, naughty nirvana. It’s a large, dimly lit psychedelic dome singularly structured around eyeing men and women, since there’s precious little they can see of each other, through their beer goggles, under a shiny disco-ball. Loud music takes away the awkward discomforts of acquaintanceship. Burden of conversation safely lies in the lyrics of the songs. Akon sings, “I wanna love you.” Snoop Dogg adds, “I wanna fuck you.” Bodies move to booty calls. Eyes meet. The point’s made. Nobody need ask, your place, or mine. Maybe that’s there in the song words as well. Deal’s struck. Booze is expensive. Night’s young. So are you.
What we end up doing:
At a discotheque? Yes. In that phase of shiny balls (pun intended), one of the very few nights where we even bothered to take a bath, wiped the dust of that old hair gel bottle. Ironed the shirt well and borrowed your roomate’s jeans. Now there we are, giving green looks to the nerds who didn’t pay for the stag entry as they came with remarkably hot chicks ( this had always been the biggest mystery of our lives until a few years back). Now somehow at the corner of the club, my eyes do meet with this girl who might have/ havenot been willing. The first thing I do there is i turn my head in the opposite direction. But then, its so easy to motivate others than oneself. All my guys around me are like ‘Ja na! dekh rahi hai tujhe’. And I go like ‘achchi nahi hai’. (while inside I’m like ‘Dude! She’s the one!’) somehow overpowered by this ego wala thing, we never made a move. Crazy days!
Dear Girl at Orca,
If you’re reading this. I’m sorry for that night. I know I should have made my move! If you’re still willing, add me. ;)
To be continued….
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