CHAPTER TWO
MECHANIC ‘ALL’ ENGINEERING
‘Why did you not pick Modern College of Engineering?’ my dad questioned as we walked towards the Boys’ Hostel.
‘The hostels at Silicon Valley College of Engineering are much better and it’s the only top college which is in the heart of the city,’ I quickly responded to his question.
‘We should have put him in Modern. Now that he’s joining Silicon Valley, I’m sure we’ll find him on Brigade Road every other evening,’ my mom cut in. Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
‘Mom, I have come here to study. I do have a lot of my friends here, but I know my limits,’ I assured her.
‘I wish there was an NRI quota in the IIT’s. I would have gotten you a seat in IIT Mumbai,’ my mom said and drew me into a hug.
‘Mom! We cannot afford an NRI quota seat in IIT Mumbai even if there was NRI quota.’
‘Why can’t we afford it? I can buy anything for my son.’
‘Anamika, can we stop this drama now? We’ll miss our flight,’ my dad interjected, looking at his watch.
‘Take care of yourself. How much pocket money do you need every month?’ he asked, pulling out a thousand rupee note from his wallet and handing it over to me.
‘I need a little more than a thousand, dad!’
Thousand? seriously? Did they really expect me to survive on that much?
‘What do you need so much money for?’ I couldn’t think of a convincing reason.
‘Okay. You call me and tell me your monthly expenditures and I’ll transfer that much into your account every month.’
Yes! My dad expected me to follow his value system on life, money and family. The basic principles which he had taught Nidhi and me during our childhood were to be put into practice - starting today. Principles that included - respecting people regardless of their varied culture, caste, creed and status... and no ‘bad habits’ (this was the code word for smoking, drinking and flirting with girls). Even though my friends felt that I was really lucky to be a son of a newspaper writer, I didn’t second that because newspaper writers have weird value systems which only the family would be aware of, the rest of the world saw only his perspectives and opinions on topics, not his assertion on things. He never bothered us about having to study well. That had always been my mother’s department. She seemed desperate to have us excel in our studies more than anything else. My dad was our pillar of strength when times got rough. My mom lowered her car window to kiss me on my forehead.
‘Take care and do not get into any sort of fights,’ my mom whispered and I could see tears that were now making their way down her face. ‘Anamika! Stop crying; you’ll be seeing him every month,’ my dad said. Obviously, showing emotions wasn’t his cup of tea.
‘Armaan, be careful.’
I watched the car pull away and watched their faces fade in the distance. I had never stayed in a boarding school before. I was going to miss my folks a lot. My mom’s face lingered in my head. Don’t cry, I told myself. But it was too late.
‘Oye sale behen chod, kyon ro raha hai?’ someone screamed.
I turned around to see a six-foot something guy in tiny shorts and a vest, staring at me.
‘Why are you crying behen chod?’ Did he think that an English translation was necessary?
‘Stop abusing me. Who the hell are you?’ I asked.
‘Madar chod, you will know very soon,’ he snarled and walked towards the Men’s Hostel.
“For those who don’t understand HINDI-”
“Kyon ro raha hai?”- “Why are you crying?”
“Behen Chod”- “Sister Fucker”
“Madar Chod”-“Mother fucker”
He was probably a senior. I remembered Nidhi asking me to be careful with my seniors. She had said that ragging was the best part of college and that it would unite the students and build a sense of ‘family’ among them. I couldn’t stand the idea of some random person calling me “Behen Chod” and “Madar Chod” though. I walked into my room (# 103) on the ground floor. I had chosen Silicon Valley solely because of its hostel and the campus. I couldn’t care less about the faculty. The construction of the whole college was beautiful. It had an indoor stadium, a football ground, a canteen, a lawn tennis court and four main buildings. Each building had its significance. The first block had the Bio-Technology, Electronics, Civil Engineering, Telecommunication and the Information Science departments. Then we have the building consisting of Computer Science Engineering, Medical Electronics and Electrical departments. Amidst all these buildings, is the building that is home to the “gutsy”, “brave”, “raw” and “united” - Mechanical boys. This was a three-storied building. The first two floors belonged to the “dreadful” Mechanical department and the third floor belonged to the “creative”, “hot” and “unique” architecture department. The girls in the architecture department made this building the hottest place on campus. The urge to get a glimpse of these hot girls made it customary for every guy in the mechanical department to press 3 in the lift. A habit that had spread like plague among the Mechanical students due to the 50:1 male to female ratio in the class, although, many would argue that the male to female ratio was actually 51:0. All the hostels were constructed within the campus itself except for the Men’s Hostel (Special single rooms for 4th year students) which was separated from the campus by a road. The girls’ hostel was attached to the mess and the hostel administrative block. The boys’ hostel (double rooms) was fifty meters away from the girl’s hostel, not as close as we’d have liked, but close enough to point lasers at their windows, in the night. The International Hostel was constructed opposite the boys’ hostel. The coolest fact about the IH (International Hostel), was that the girls and guys stayed in the same block - a fact that troubled the boys’ hostel residents as they stayed up the whole night watching all the ‘real time action’ that happened there at night. The ‘Big Daddy’, Suresh - warden of all the hostels, stayed in a comfortable den in the basement of the boys’ hostel.
[Knock knock]
Someone was at the door. On opening the door, I found a funny looking guy with long, curly hair.
‘Hi, I am Ashwin Ram from Cochin,’ the guy said. His accent is weird, I thought.
‘Hi, I am Armaan Rodriguez from Bangalore,’ I said and shook his hand.
‘I came here to tell you that we have to wear Paragon slippers, a formal shirt and trousers from today as soon as we step into the hostel after attending our classes. We have to carry a condom and a list of all our batch mates in our wallet. These rules have to be followed until the freshers’ party,’ he announced in a trembling voice. The guy seemed a little frightened.
‘Okay.’
‘Every time you walk past a senior, you have to wish him “good morning sir” or “good evening sir” depending on the time,’ he continued.
‘Okay.’
‘All the 1st year students have to assemble at 7:00 A.M, 1:00 P.M , 4:00 P.M and 7:00 P.M at the entrance of the boys’ hostel and go to the mess for breakfast, lunch, snacks and dinner respectively, at exactly these times.’
‘Hmmm. Oh... one more thing - we cannot use the T.V rooms, gym and the college grounds till we get clearance from the seniors (2nd, 3rd and 4th years). You have to go to each of your batch mates’ room and make a note of their names, the place where they have come from, their hobbies and their phone numbers, and carry that list with you always without fail,’ he said.
‘OKAY!’ Would he just shut up and leave!
‘Just tell these rules to your roommate when he arrives,’ he concluded and left the room. Finally!
‘Done,’ I muttered and shut the door behind him.
[Knock knock]
Now what!
‘By the way, this stuff is not ragging; it is known as student interaction, and since you’re a localite, you would not undergo too much of ragging. Try finding out all your seniors’ names at the earliest.’ I went to each and every room to find my batch mates’ details. A lot of them had strange names that reflected their varied cultural backgrounds. Some had fascinating hobbies which included “watching porn” and “playing lock and key with hot girls”. They came from places that were all over the Indian map. I finished with the introductory ceremony and went out to buy my paragon slippers and a condom.
‘Which one?’ asked a wiry man at the medical shop. I had never bought a condom before. I had seen posters of Kamasutra condoms at pharmacies when I went to buy medicines for my mom though. ‘Kamasutra sports,’ I declared, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing.
‘1st year is it?’ the chemist asked, grinning at me.
‘Yes,’ I replied, sheepishly.
I paid him and walked back to the boys’ hostel, feeling pretty smug about having accomplished that particular task. On my way back, I passed the men’s hostel and remembered the tall guy in the vest. I was counting on never having to meet him again. My room had two beds, two cupboards, two study tables and two windows. We were provided with a couple of ports for the internet facility. It was a nicely furnished room- much better than the hostels of the other top colleges I had visited with my dad. Our hostel had three wings - each wing consisting of ten rooms.
‘Hi!’ There was a guy in my room.
‘I am Varun Rao from Hyderabad, Mechanical Engineering,’ he announced.
‘I am Armaan Rodriguez from Bangalore, Mech,’ I said as I latched the door.
‘So, you are my roommate?’
‘I guess so. I have been allotted this room too,’ I replied.
I told Varun about all the instructions the curly haired guy had given me. The first night at the hostel went by peacefully, contrary to what the curly haired guy had led me to believe. “Strict senior-junior interaction” he had said. I set my alarm to six o’clock and went to sleep. I had to wake up early to get to the mess at 7.00 A.M for breakfast.
‘Good night Armaan,’ Varun said and buried himself under his blanket.
[Alarm on my phone: “I never really knew that she could dance like this
She makes a man want to speak Spanish
Como se llama (si), bonita (si), mi casa (si, Shakira Shakira), su casa
Shakira, Shakira”]
‘Shakira Shakira,’ I mumbled in my sleep.
‘It is six o’clock, wake up. There is no Shakira here,’ I heard Varun’s voice say.
I woke up with a jolt. The image of Shakira belly dancing was still fresh in my head. I loved Shakira. She had the moves to make any boy go la la la. I finally got myself out of bed and made my way into the long queue in front of the common bathrooms and then joined the queue to the mess. I was standing behind Varun. Finally, we got to our tables and had our breakfast. The warden was staring at us. He had probably noticed how frightened we looked. We sat at the extreme right corner of the mess. We could see our seniors munching corn flakes through the corner of our eyes. No one dared to look up for more than a second. The orientation ceremony for the 1st year students was to commence in half an hour at the main auditorium.
[Main Auditorium]
“Today, we are here to welcome the new bunch of talent into our family. Every year thousands of graduates pass out of this esteemed college and get hired by the top Multi-National Companies from India and abroad. Our college in the near future would be ranked the best college in Karnataka which is solely dependent on the hard work of…blah…blah…”
[Phone Beeps]
Message [Farhan]: Whr r u?
Message [me]: Main Auditorium.
Message [Farhan]: Come to the indoor stadium.
Message [me]: Whr is that?
Message [Farhan]: It is behind the administrative block.
Message [me]: The orientation and the Chief Guest’s message?
Message [Farhan]: see you in two minutes.
[Applause: parents and students]
I got up and started walking out while the Chairman was busy talking about the institution and its vision for the forthcoming years. I walked up to the banyan tree to find my class mates from School - Abhay, Rakesh and Farhan.
‘So, we are back again,’ Rakesh said pulling me into an embrace.
‘I am so happy,’ I beamed.
Farhan had also chosen Mechanical Engineering. Abhay and Rakesh chose Electrical. I was the only one staying in the hostel though. It felt great to be with them again.
We had just entered the Mechanical department when Farhan asked, ‘How is the hostel?’
‘Hmmm, people in the hostel are very abusive.’
‘I wish there are some hot girls in our class,’ he said as we entered our classroom.
There were about a hundred guys sitting in the classroom, waiting for the professor to enter. I could spot three girls sitting together on the first bench and “hot” was definitely not the word that came to my mind. I saw Varun and the curly haired guy sitting together on the last bench. Farhan and I saw two vacant seats beside Varun and seated ourselves there.
‘Do we have class now?’ I asked Varun.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied.
‘Farhan, this is Varun - my roommate.’
‘You both are from the same school?’ Varun asked Farhan.
‘Yes, we did our 11th and 12th grade together at St. Marley’s Boys’ High School, Bangalore,’ Farhan said, with a hint of pride in his voice.
‘Where are you from?’ Farhan asked Varun.
‘I am from Hyderabad, I did my 11th and 12th grade at Narayana College,’ Varun responded.
There were a lot of groups in the class. The hostelites sat together and the day scholars had their mini groups based on the schools or colleges they came from. A short guy walked into the class with Gutka in his mouth and announced that classes would start from the next day and we were done for the day. One of my classmates told me that the short guy’s name was “Shampuri” and he was the personal secretary to the Head of the department of Mechanical Engineering. I walked back with Varun and the curly haired guy (Ashwin) to the hostel and changed into my “student interaction” uniform. It was time for lunch, so we formed a queue and entered the mess. The mood in the mess was quite unnerving. Later, we walked back to the hostel to rest in our rooms for a while. After my lunch, I decided to step out of the hostel for a movie. I badly wanted to watch the movie Dev D since the past week. I very well knew according to the student interaction rules that I was not supposed to be stepping out without the senior’s permission, but I decided to do so anyway. I met Farhan at the Inox Cine hall at Garuda mall. The movie was splendid. Anurag Kashyap would have surely changed the outlook of Indian Cinema with this masterpiece. It was 7:00 P.M when I checked my watch. I headed towards the entrance of the hostel to check whether my batch mates had already left for dinner. I did not find anyone. I ran towards the mess. I walked straight across the room and reached the mess hastily. People were staring at me as though I had committed a hideous offense. I took a seat beside Varun and Ashwin.
‘Where were you?’ Varun asked. His voice was barely audible.
‘I went for a movie,’ I replied.
‘You cannot go outside the hostel after 6:00 P.M without informing the seniors,’ Ashwin said.
‘What kind of a rule is that?’ I grumbled in indignation.
‘You are screwed baby! By the way, which movie did you go for?’ Ashwin asked, grinning at me.
‘Dev D.’
‘Just wait for your booty call tonight. You are going upstairs in a while, DEV BABU,’ Ashwin remarked. Varun seemed to find this humorous.
‘I’ll tell them that I went with my local guardian for a medical checkup,’ I reasoned as I walked back to the hostel with them. Ashwin always acted like he was the experienced guy in the whole “student interaction” scenario. We were sitting in Ashwin’s room when my phone started ringing.
‘Booty call?’ Ashwin asked. He looked at me and laughed. Why was this funny?
‘Be careful; just tell them the truth,’ Varun advised.
I picked up the call.
‘Good evening sir.’
‘Come to room #413,’ said the voice on the other end. I walked to the lift and then I remembered that I wasn’t allowed to use the lift. I climbed four floors in about a minute and stood in front of room #413. The number had been engraved in bold black font on the door. I took a couple of minutes to catch my breath and knocked.
‘Come in,’ I heard a rough voice.
I entered with my head bent and hastily wished everyone. I must have said “Good evening sir” at least ten times. I couldn’t tell exactly how many seniors were there in the room at that moment. All I knew was that there were a lot of them. I heard the words ‘Madar Chod’ thrown at me from all corners of the room.
‘Give your intro,’ ordered a surly looking guy who had his hands on my collar.
Ashwin had trained me on how to give an intro to a senior.
‘My name is Armaan Rodriguez. I studied at St Marley’s Boys’ High School, sir. I am from Bangalore, sir. My hobbies are writing, playing cricket and football, sir.’ My words had a deliberate cadence to it that made my introduction sound like a song. I ended up giving my “intro” twelve times to the same person that day for he felt that I wasn’t doing it right. I kept my head lowered the entire time. I could see a lot of cigarette butts and ashtrays on the floor. I tried staying calm. I knew this ordeal would end in a couple of minutes.
‘You are too boring; do something interesting to entertain us,’ I heard a voice from across the room.
‘Lift your head,’ said another voice. I looked up to see twelve of them in that room, staring at me. They all burst into laughter.
‘Do you know who I am?’ asked the guy sitting on the study table on the right.
‘No sir,’ I mumbled.
‘Find out fast Behen Chod, within two days,’ he said.
‘Okay Sir,’ I replied.
[Phone beeps]
It’s probably a message from Ashwin or Varun, I thought. I wondered if it was a good idea to check my phone in front of them. I couldn’t possibly wait to find out, reasoned the voice in my head. I pulled out my phone and read - ‘How is the booty call?’ It was Varun. I looked up; someone slapped me across the face and threw my phone down. I lost my cool. Something stirred awake inside me. Before I could contemplate the stupidity of my next move, I punched the guy on his face with my right hand, and with my left hand, I struck him near the abdomen. He fell to the floor. I picked up my phone and walked towards the stairs.
‘Arey Behen Chod, where are you going?’ I heard a voice.
All hell had broken loose. I could hear nothing but - ‘Catch that bastard’, ‘He hit a senior’. People were shouting and banging on doors. I ran like a dog - faster than I ever thought possible. I darted towards the football field. It was 9:00 P.M; the only person I could think of calling for help was Ashwin.
‘Hey I hit a senior,’ I yelled into the phone.
‘What?’
‘I hit a senior because he threw my phone.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I am at the football ground,’ I said and heard the phone click.
I saw a group of two hundred people running towards me with all kinds of weapons in their hand. I turned behind to see Ashwin and Varun behind me along with all my batch mates. Ashwin hit me on my head and cried, ‘What have you done?’
I was relieved to see them but not so much to see Varun’s face. It was his message which had prompted me to pull out my phone in front of the senior I had hit.
‘Don’t worry, we are with you!’ one of my batch mates yelled.
‘Yes, they are going to kill you as well, Mr. Banerjee!’ Ashwin retorted.
‘I am going to talk to them and you are going to keep your mouth shut,’ Ashwin instructed.
‘That bastard hit me! I am going to kill him!’ yelled the guy I hit. He darted towards me. Ashwin stepped forward attempting to hold him back.
‘Listen, he was stressed out and he will apologize to you,’ Ashwin said.
The mob of seniors made their way towards us. ‘Hit all of them and break their bones!’ they cried. My batch mates, frightened by the threat, made a run for it in all directions possible.
I looked behind to see that Varun and Ashwin had not budged.
‘I will complain to the warden,’ was my feeble last attempt to save our asses.
‘Go, complain after we kill you,’ they shouted.
‘Say sorry,’ Varun whispered.
‘No, he won’t say sorry,’ Ashwin declared, looking at Varun.
‘Kill those two bastards also!’ they yelled.
‘I am warning all of you, if anything happens to my friends, I will kill you all,’ Ashwin threatened.
‘My father is a District Commissioner; touch them and tomorrow morning you will all be in jail,’ he continued.
Ashwin’s threat seemed to have had some effect on the mob. They had lost the murderous rage they had come with. They tried to reason with Ashwin on how it was my fault. But Ashwin did not relent. ‘You could have warned him once, sir; you should not have hit him,’ he argued.
‘I am sorry sir,’ I told the guy I had hit.
‘It’s alright; we are like your brothers and I am sorry too.’
‘We do not mean to hurt you. Just respect your seniors,’ said another. Soon, the crowd of seniors dispersed and they returned to the hostel.
‘Losers!’ Ashwin yelled, glaring at our batch mates who had tried to flee from the scene.
‘Our batch mates ran away! Unity, my foot!’ he cried, visibly annoyed.
‘You need to stop watching action movies, Jackie Chan,’ Varun grinned, looking at me.
I looked at Varun and Ashwin. I tried to think of something to say and all I could come up with was ‘Thank you!’
We walked back to the hostel together. I made two great friends that day.
Ashwin: The curly haired guy from Cochin.
Varun: My lanky roommate from Hyderabad.