College Flashback (Sulekha Challenge)

My college absolutely rocked because…I had the best education of my life here. As clichéd as it may sound, I hasten to add, when I say education, I don’t mean academics. The ‘stand-out’ places where one received the best education in my college are in the following places:-

1. Indian Coffee House. There is a wonderful edition of the Indian Coffee House (or the popular acronym ICH) on campus. I have spent long hours on Table no.2, wistfully watching people coming and going in pairs. I had to wait for atleast three years before a girl joined me on Table No.2. Simi Joseph was a pretty no-nonsense girl who insisted on buying her own ‘fresh-lime soda.’ She migrated to Table no. 4 in less than three months (Apparently I didn’t insist enough that I buy her fresh-lime soda). Jijimol Mathew was the most beautiful lady to have ever graced ICH. But she wore blue and white rubber slippers. That wasn’t a big turn-on. She flitted in and out of tables before settling on table no. 7, the one at the left corner. Jose was a good match for her, but he wasn’t sure she was interested. We convinced him of the affirmative. Jijimol Mathew showed all the signs, especially the tell-tale one when she crossed her left knee over the right and kept slapping the left slipper loosely on the sole of her foot. Anyone who has read The Dummies Handbook to Reading Love Signals knows what that means.

2. The Library. Rows and rows of books lined wooden shelves on three stories and a basement of our library. I have spent many hours in the library over four years and I don’t recall the title of a single book I have read. However, what I do recall is the scent of Maria,sitting next to me and lecturing on college politics. It was a heady mix of coconut oil, toddy and banana chips. Very intoxicating…terribly so. Sitting next to Maria, was like sitting on a boat, gliding through the backwaters of God’s Own Country – with all the sights and smells served on the pages of an open Machine Design book.

3. The Auditorium. Our college auditorium was forever a cauldron of bubbling talent. My good friend, Royson, once registered to compete in the ‘Wind Instruments’ category. Unfortunately, due to an unkind hand dealt by fate he was deprived of his harmonica on the prescribed day (actually he loaned it to his drunken roommate who probably left it at the toddy shop). Royson, being a man of character and absolutely the ‘thickest’ epidermis, went up on stage and played Mera Joota Hai Japani with a Cadbury’s Éclair wrapper held adroitly between puckered lips. He brought the house down with that sterling performance. The judges, unfortunately, did not validate Royson’s talent. Royson is currently a battle-hardened banker who plays the Éclair wrapper for his five year old son. However, he is having issues playing the Dhoom Machale track.

4. The Ladies Hostel. This is a favorite on any campus. The visitors timing is however a big wet blanket. Simmering passions are often doused with the Hostel Warden’s curt call for Closing Time. Many saddened hearts trudged back with leaden feet when the gong announced 7 p.m. But the sun sets only to rise another day. A fresh day for fresh liaisons. And liaisons form sometimes, even in the absence of a spoken word. Like the case of a budding athlete who used to run past the Ladies Hostel every day…until he spotted a particularly long haired angel tending to her tresses on the terrace of the hostel. After that fateful day, he ran past the hostel thrice every day, stealing glances all along. It was a win-win situation. The girl’s tresses flourished and the boy bagged four gold medals in the Inter-University Athletics Meet. The couple, now have a three year old son, who looks like a baby Jesus and runs like the devil.

5. Room No. 63. This was our adda. It belonged to Sudheer Panicker. When we were freshers, we were ragged in the very same room. In our senior years, it was used or abused as the case may be. More often than not, it was the place where we congregated and got tipsy over cheap rum served in plastic cups, accompanied by antiquated radio-active lemon pickles from the Mess, which no one in his right mind ever partook. But then we were never in our right minds. Atleast not after drinking Black Bull from Lanka Wines (if you haven’t heard of it, I am genuinely not surprised). We would then proceed to discuss Simi Joseph, Jijimol Mathew, Maria and other pretty girls, until an inebriated Honeymon (please don’t laugh, that’s a name) would strip down to his undies and dance to the call of the wild. Sudheer Panicker, the generous host that he was, would then play along along and pour another stiff one for Honeymon. That used to be the signal for us to disperse, because Honeymon would soon proceed to roll down the elastic band of his briefs. I never, ever stayed to see the moment and I am glad. Honeymon is ofcourse now happily married, but stays away from College Reunions. Why does he? I don’t know, because he’s not the one with the nightmares.