When I created this blog I thought of writing something that somehow connected to India and off-course the Youth (as the name of the blog suggests). Well I couldn't do that for some time, so I thought why dont start with a small tale of adventures or mis-adventures of my gang ... my MBA days .. living in Punjab University Hostel....... For You guys.......
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The drums started getting louder…. Yes, it was drums beating somewhere distant. It wasn’t even that distant or was it…, the drums were getting closer and louder… or was it something else…..
“What the f***….” It isn’t drums; I could realize that getting out of my sleep…… “Coming,” I screamed ….. It was my door about to be brought down… what time is it? May be 2 or 3 in the night…..
I went to the door and somehow managed to open it in semi-consciousness. It was Tolu, standing there (well it was one of the few famous names he has acquired ... he had quite a few). “Get your ass moving, we are going to Shimla,” Tolu said in his typical style……
That’s how I describe best days of my life…… living in Boys Hostel No-1 of Punjab University, Chandigarh …..
“What the f*** you are waiting for,” he said looking at me strangely.
“Let me get dressed up atleast,” I said, trying to shed webs of sleep out and coming to terms that I will not get back to bed for atleast tomorrow night.
“Who the hell you wanna dress for anyway, no girl looks at you…. waise bhi abhi raat hai aur andhere mai tu dheekta kaha hai?” he said loudly at the top of his voice for the half the hostel to listen in his signature style, which could be best described as a lethal mixture of Rambo, Arnold and a dozen of Hollywood and Bollywood stars. He was joined by Gabbar and Debu with a few choicest words of their’s.
So I was almost dragged out of my room into the corridor and I was just in my shorts, T-shirt and Hawaii chappals. Getting down the stairs from my room on the second floor to the main corridor, I can see the rest of the gang already assembled there…. Taran, Nitin, Bengali, Shrinu.
So we boarded the bikes, some single, some piggybacking with others. And I found myself again sitting with Tolu on the rear wheel of his bike. I didn’t know why I was there, I didn’t have any insurance and that was not even a ripe age to die, as it was the second most dangerous thing to do (the first being to attend Bawa mam’s class unprepared)…. to ride with Tolu “the ghost rider”
“Let’s eat something first bhai log….,” Gabbar’s voice echoed and was nodded upon and agreed unanimously, as usual… so we rode out of the University’s main gate to the PGI canteen, just across the road, to fill our tanks as well. I can atleast surely say of one thing that if PGI canteen wasn’t there and opened all night, half of us either would have starved or would have been the poster boys (read as models) for malnutrition. After one round of omelet-burgers and shakes we were ready to hit the road.
“Oye, tussi Bawa mam ke test ki tayyari kar li veere?, have you prepared for the Bawa mam’s test tomorrow,” asked Debu trying hard to speak in Punjabi plus Haryanvi accent. Debu had somehow come up with a cunning idea in his quest to speak Haryanvi (with a hint of Punjabi). The crux of idea being to say each word as loud as possible and put a few typical word and phrases in each sentence. Just imagine this all on top of his native Orriyan accent. The result being a language and accent that could have been from Pluto. I guess from his real honest attempt to be Haryanvi, God must have been really pleased with him, as his first job posting was in rural Haryana. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was put into overdue loan collections by his Finance Company, as part of training and job rotation policy. We still find it hard to imagine how he survived’, speaking in his invented Haryanvi accent and meeting JATs of Haryana for collections…but lets keep that story for some other time.
So we started out for Shimla, riding through windy road of Panchkula-Shimla highway. And as unexpectedly expected, we took a detour midway to Kasauli. It was like a race in which you touch the target and get back as soon as possible, but that was the way and anyway the whole fun was in riding on that road rather reaching somewhere. And then we were back on the highway.
It was almost dawn when we arrived in Shimla. As Shimla was about to wake up, we were riding through the empty streets of Shimla. With first rays of sun filtering through the sky, we were standing at the ridge on Mall Road, marveling at the breath taking beauty of the surroundings. It was one of those experiences where you wish the time to stop. You want to soak it all and wish it never goes away. The whole trip and effort was worth it and now looking back, I wish we had more of those trips.
As Shimla awoke, it found a few youngsters roaming around, almost all in shorts and chappals, and searching for a restaurant for the breakfast. We finally found a dhaba and had a wholesome breakfast of aalo-parathas and tea and soon were on our way back to “the city beautiful” Chandigarh. We had time just enough to get back to the hostel, have a quick bath and to reach the class for the test just in time.
Few hours later, we found ourselves in the class, with dizzy eyes, holding question papers and trying to make a sense out of it. I looked around and was meet with faint smiles of those who were brave enough to muster a smile in that situation…. I could simply nod and smile back ….. May be next time, next time…. will prepare for the test anyhow, I promised myself…. But deep inside I knew it was the same promise that we made to ourselves after every test… and followed it up yet again on the next…..
“What the f***….” It isn’t drums; I could realize that getting out of my sleep…… “Coming,” I screamed ….. It was my door about to be brought down… what time is it? May be 2 or 3 in the night…..
I went to the door and somehow managed to open it in semi-consciousness. It was Tolu, standing there (well it was one of the few famous names he has acquired ... he had quite a few). “Get your ass moving, we are going to Shimla,” Tolu said in his typical style……
That’s how I describe best days of my life…… living in Boys Hostel No-1 of Punjab University, Chandigarh …..
“What the f*** you are waiting for,” he said looking at me strangely.
“Let me get dressed up atleast,” I said, trying to shed webs of sleep out and coming to terms that I will not get back to bed for atleast tomorrow night.
“Who the hell you wanna dress for anyway, no girl looks at you…. waise bhi abhi raat hai aur andhere mai tu dheekta kaha hai?” he said loudly at the top of his voice for the half the hostel to listen in his signature style, which could be best described as a lethal mixture of Rambo, Arnold and a dozen of Hollywood and Bollywood stars. He was joined by Gabbar and Debu with a few choicest words of their’s.
So I was almost dragged out of my room into the corridor and I was just in my shorts, T-shirt and Hawaii chappals. Getting down the stairs from my room on the second floor to the main corridor, I can see the rest of the gang already assembled there…. Taran, Nitin, Bengali, Shrinu.
So we boarded the bikes, some single, some piggybacking with others. And I found myself again sitting with Tolu on the rear wheel of his bike. I didn’t know why I was there, I didn’t have any insurance and that was not even a ripe age to die, as it was the second most dangerous thing to do (the first being to attend Bawa mam’s class unprepared)…. to ride with Tolu “the ghost rider”
“Let’s eat something first bhai log….,” Gabbar’s voice echoed and was nodded upon and agreed unanimously, as usual… so we rode out of the University’s main gate to the PGI canteen, just across the road, to fill our tanks as well. I can atleast surely say of one thing that if PGI canteen wasn’t there and opened all night, half of us either would have starved or would have been the poster boys (read as models) for malnutrition. After one round of omelet-burgers and shakes we were ready to hit the road.
“Oye, tussi Bawa mam ke test ki tayyari kar li veere?, have you prepared for the Bawa mam’s test tomorrow,” asked Debu trying hard to speak in Punjabi plus Haryanvi accent. Debu had somehow come up with a cunning idea in his quest to speak Haryanvi (with a hint of Punjabi). The crux of idea being to say each word as loud as possible and put a few typical word and phrases in each sentence. Just imagine this all on top of his native Orriyan accent. The result being a language and accent that could have been from Pluto. I guess from his real honest attempt to be Haryanvi, God must have been really pleased with him, as his first job posting was in rural Haryana. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was put into overdue loan collections by his Finance Company, as part of training and job rotation policy. We still find it hard to imagine how he survived’, speaking in his invented Haryanvi accent and meeting JATs of Haryana for collections…but lets keep that story for some other time.
So we started out for Shimla, riding through windy road of Panchkula-Shimla highway. And as unexpectedly expected, we took a detour midway to Kasauli. It was like a race in which you touch the target and get back as soon as possible, but that was the way and anyway the whole fun was in riding on that road rather reaching somewhere. And then we were back on the highway.
It was almost dawn when we arrived in Shimla. As Shimla was about to wake up, we were riding through the empty streets of Shimla. With first rays of sun filtering through the sky, we were standing at the ridge on Mall Road, marveling at the breath taking beauty of the surroundings. It was one of those experiences where you wish the time to stop. You want to soak it all and wish it never goes away. The whole trip and effort was worth it and now looking back, I wish we had more of those trips.
As Shimla awoke, it found a few youngsters roaming around, almost all in shorts and chappals, and searching for a restaurant for the breakfast. We finally found a dhaba and had a wholesome breakfast of aalo-parathas and tea and soon were on our way back to “the city beautiful” Chandigarh. We had time just enough to get back to the hostel, have a quick bath and to reach the class for the test just in time.
Few hours later, we found ourselves in the class, with dizzy eyes, holding question papers and trying to make a sense out of it. I looked around and was meet with faint smiles of those who were brave enough to muster a smile in that situation…. I could simply nod and smile back ….. May be next time, next time…. will prepare for the test anyhow, I promised myself…. But deep inside I knew it was the same promise that we made to ourselves after every test… and followed it up yet again on the next…..
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