So, there we were, living together in the A. N. Jha Hostel in Allahabad (now known as Prayagraj), navigating the labyrinth of adulthood in the most unexpected yet beautiful ways. The legendary art of 'Jugaad' became our daily mantra - the only way to add a sprinkle of excitement and comfort to our hostel life.
But you know what the magic ingredient was? It was the unspoken camaraderie among us, friends from different walks of life and academia. We weren't bound by classes or departments; we were bound by something deeper, something more genuine. There were no hidden agendas or ulterior motives; we were just a bunch of students trying to make our way through the maze of college life.
Let me share a little story that encapsulates our time there:
Six of us, an eclectic mix of history buffs, law enthusiasts, chemistry geeks, and economics aficionados, decided to shack up in adjacent rooms. Not because we were studying the same thing, but because we genuinely enjoyed each other's company beyond the confines of lecture halls.
Now, our mess hall was generous enough to serve us lunch and dinner, but breakfast was a different story. Each morning, our trusty handyman and part-time washerman, Ambelal, would swing by, collect some cash, and set off to bring back our breakfast. It was usually a simple affair - 'bun omelette' and tea - with the occasional demand for idli or vada or a dosa.
Here's the kicker: one of us would pay for this breakfast everyday till his funds lasted. When his funds ran out, someone else will start paying for breakfast from his funds. It didn't matter who ate what and who got more funds or and who got less from home every month. When someone's breakfast fund was about to dry up, another musketeer (as we fondly called ourselves) willingly stepped in. It was a seamless cycle of generosity with no questions asked. What mattered that we had breakfast together everyday.
I am not sure who amongst us had read The Three Musketeers of Alexandre Dumas but when it came to practicing the one immortal teaching of that book, none was found wanting: Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno! One for All, All for One!
Once in a blue moon, our combined pockets would echo with emptiness. On one such occasion, a fellow musketeer suggested a unique solution. He could call his father stationed at the Jhansi cantonment, and the much-needed funds would be arrive by courier the next day.
Now, this brilliant idea struck us around 11 o'clock at night. This being the era of the landline and public phones were available mostly at post offices. The only post office open at that hour was the General Post Office (GPO), a good 3 kilometers from our cozy hostel.
Here's where the story gets interesting. We decided to take a rickshaw to the GPO, but the rickshaw puller we woke up from his pavement slumber had a different idea. He was too tired to ride, and in a surprisingly generous gesture, he handed us the reins (quite literally) of his rickshaw. Now, for the uninitiated, riding a cycle rickshaw isn't exactly a walk in the park - it takes some skill and practice to pedal it in a straight line.
Two of us were seasoned rickshaw riders, thanks to experiences in Durgapur and Bijnor. The third musketeer, however, was a rookie. Nevertheless, we pedaled our way to the GPO, where two of us made the crucial phone call, while the third attempted to master the art of rickshaw riding outside.
Exiting the GPO, we encountered an unexpected hiccup. Our rickshaw and its novice rider had attracted the attention of two policemen, accusing us of attempted theft. Negotiating our way out without a dime in our pockets, we offered a couple of cigarettes as a peace offering. The rest, as they say, is history.
We returned unscathed, and the much-needed funds arrived the next day, delivered by an army courier.
Those nerve-wracking moments negotiating with the cops are etched in my memory. We were scared out of our wits, yet, at 21 years old, we somehow kept our composure and talked our way out of a sticky situation in the dead of night.
Much later, when I shared this incident at home, my parents were confident that I was not just surviving but thriving in the chaos of college life.
And here's the thing - today's parents could take a leaf out of our book. Allowing your children to make mistakes and face challenging situations is the surest way to help them grow. There are no shortcuts in this journey.
Comments