THE APPREHENSION
It won’t be long till it’s my turn to post my experiences of college life. I am not certain what the circumstances will be then for me to take time to do an impromptu write-up. So, I am starting it now. Although I have been thinking about writing down my thoughts for a while, there seem to have been four things to do competing for every moment. Finally, there is some peace and quiet and a good chunk of time all coming together today to start my ramblings. So, bear with it. Now, how to transfer what I am going to write as a link to post for my friends to read? No idea. Have to figure out how to do it. So, if you are reading this, I have been successful in posting this.
READY, SET, GO……
“If you don’t study well and get admission to a professional college, I will get you married away. “
It was supposed to be a threat. Or that’s what my father thought. A quiet chuckle inside me. Really? For the circumstances then, if there was any chance of a kid in the extended family of becoming a professional, it was me. So, marrying away this only chance…no way. Not an ounce of fear in me that this threat would come true. Just as everyone one else, I was also indulged full time in cramming the contents of books, going to tuitions, taking model exams and trying not to watch too much TV. My family moved when I was in the eleventh standard, which instantly took me out of all my time pass (time waste) activities. No park, no friends close by, no club, no shuttle courts, no library, no novels, no nothing. Even the voltage was too low in the power lines to the new house, so no TV either. Hence, out of sheer boredom, I studied. What else to do? Twelfth exams were done .Results came in. Marks were ok. Will I get into a good college? Don’t know. Entrance exams were done too. Now, there was not even the time pass of books that I had to read. I would sometimes just sit on the sofa doing nothing, just sit and stare at the wall. Even my father was concerned about what had happened to his daughter. I remember him asking me a couple of times if I was okay. My answer was too simple I suppose. I had nothing to do.
Then it was time to fill out application forms. Sat with my father to fill them out. I had chosen Group I in my XI and XII standard and hence was eligible to apply to engineering as well as medical colleges. We did not seem to give much thought to other fields then. You were either an engineer or a doctor. Time to rank colleges of choice on the DOTE I application. Without hesitation I said REC, Trichy for my first choice. Surprise. My father called out to my mother. ‘Look, your daughter does not want to go the local college. She wants to go to a different city.’ Why not? I wanted to get into the best college I possibly could. Without too much resistance, my parents let me pick my choices and rank them. Applications were done. Results came in. I was wait listed for a medical seat. But was very happy that I got into my college of choice at REC, Trichy. My father quickly found out that one of his colleague’s daughter was also studying in the final year there and felt a little more at ease sending me there.
Next few days were gone in a frenzy getting ready for college. A list of things we needed for college and hostel came in the mail and we were busy getting them ready. A few new dresses. The list asked for a khaki pant and shirt. It was the lab uniform. Never wore one before. When we went to the shop for the material, they seemed to know exactly what we needed. Got it stitched. All ready and packed and off I went accompanied by my father on the bus to Trichy. Very excited inside. We reached Trichy bus stand and switched buses to Tanjore. The college was located in the outskirts of Trichy on the route to Tanjore.
We walked in through the main entrance gate. Inside the compound wall, parallel to the outside main road was another long road. On the other side of this road were multiple buildings one after the other. Each one was a department with a lawn and garden in front. At the end of this long road was the girl’s hostel. After all the admission formalities were done, a group of us girls with our parents went to the hostel and were assigned our respective rooms. There was one store in the campus where we went to get some necessary stuff like buckets, notebooks, pencils etc. Pencils – yes, I did not know that there were different kinds of pencils till then. What is the difference between a 2HB pencil and an F pencil and what not? Anyway, it was evening by the time all this was done. Back at the hostel, our parents said their good byes and left.
The hostel was a square building with 3 floors. The rooms were on the outer end of the square and opened onto an open corridor on the inner end. When we stepped out of our room, we could see the whole square and all the room doors. In the middle of the square was an open atrium with a stage on one side. The mess hall was huge, located in the first floor behind the stage. There was one pay phone in the hostel. When parents called, they would leave a message and would call back in 5 minutes, by when we were notified in our rooms and would wait by the phone for the call. There were mail boxes at the entrance to the hostel on the wall with our names on it and all incoming letters would go there. The warden’s office was by the entrance. She lived in the hostel. We all had to sign in at 10 pm every night and had to notify the warden in case we were going home.
Hostel life was a new experience. That first month of college experience, even better.
There were students from all different backgrounds there. Due to the admission process for REC, there were students from all over the country. While exposure to people from other states was not new to me as I grew up in a central government colony, the exposure to different types of personalities was new. The classroom was a gallery type with benches and chairs and the landing had a stage for the professor. Professors came and taught classes and we were given fat books that were known by their author’s names rather than their subjects. Most of the subjects were new and things being taught seemed to go right above my head rather than into it. Whenever the professor asked a question, even before I could start thinking about it, ten people would have blurted out the answer. Seemed like anybody and everybody who had prepared hard for IIT and did not get in were sitting next to me as competition with all their bitterness. But still, liked it.
And yes, there was ragging. There were strict rules in place against ragging though. We were warned to walk to and fro from college in groups and never alone. Since the campus was huge, many of our seniors rode bicycles. So, although there were hundreds of students, it was an easy give away that you were a fresher if you were walking on that long road to the hostel. Couple of senior guys would sometimes catchup with a group of girls in their bicycles and walk along pushing their bicycles engaging the group in small talk. Mostly it was a fact finding mission for them. Trying to know where we were from and making connections with those from the same native. Mostly they made us laugh. Trivia questions and brain teasers were asked. Later I realized, these were also recruitment missions for new members to their respective clubs. There were about half a dozen clubs at least like the student wing of the Rotary club and Lions clubs etc. and competition among them seemed to be intense. All of a sudden, the senior guys would briskly pedal away. They would have spotted a professor at a distance and did not want to get into trouble for ragging. Professors lived on campus in their quarters with their families. The whole campus was a city in itself.
Back in the hostel, there was ragging too. It was common knowledge to stay away from certain seniors. All the freshers were grouped at night in the center of the square and asked to do some talent shows, sing and dance. I still remember a couple of them who sang exceptionally well. Again, it was recruitment for upcoming culturals. Food there had another dimension. As expected, everyone had anything and everything bad to say about mess food. But, secretly I liked the food. I was not exposed to restaurants or much outside food till then. So, the variety served was new, tastes were new and it was a period when I was discovering my own likes and dislikes.
One friday, it was announced that the following Monday was a holiday. An unexpected holiday. So, a group of us decided to go home for the long weekend. It was not a weekend I was expected to come home. So, when I reached Trichy bus stand, I called home and informed that I was coming home. It was about 5 pm. It’s a four hour bus journey from Trichy to Salem. I had travelled this route back home a couple of weeks back and felt comfortable. My father would wait at the bypass road around 9 pm and take me home. For the ride, I had brought along a novel which was part of the English syllabus. I started reading it after settling in. It was a Jeffrey Archer novel involving the KGB and Kremlin. The only reason I remember this is because I was teased heavily by a couple of college age boys sitting in the seat behind me. Checked on what novel it was now- ‘A matter of Honor’. It was hard to control smiling and laughing at their comments. That particular day, along the way there was a detour due to some bad road condition. On the detour route the bus had a flat tire and the journey was by now a whole hour behind schedule.
It was 10 pm by the time the bus reached Salem and due to the timing it went straight to Old bus stand instead of through the bypass road. I had to ride a town bus now to go home and walk about half a mile from there to reach home. It was dark and there were very few people on the bus. One of the persons who had rode on the Trichy bus approached me and enquired where I had to go. He offered to accompany me and walked with me all the way home. Yes, there are good people around us too. When we turned onto my street at about 10:45 pm, all the neighbors along with my family were on the street with anxious looks. My father had waited long enough along the bypass road and went home and everyone was tensed about my whereabouts. Relieved on seeing me, they thanked the stranger who accompanied me immensely.
The weekend passed quietly. All the laundry was washed and I went back to college. A few days later, on a saturday morning, I was in the hostel and I was called out saying I had a visitor. I went to the waiting room. It was my father standing there with an envelope in hand. He handed it to me. I took it and read it. It was an admission letter to GMKMC, Salem. I was instructed to get ready quickly to go to the college office to get my TC. There was no choice offered. I had to leave. I went back upstairs, tears in my eyes, not certain if what was happening was a good thing or not, or if I even wanted to become a doctor or not. I quickly got ready, wrote a letter to my roommate who had gone home for the weekend, set it down on the table and left. We went to the admissions office and were given a relieving form to get signatures from all different departments. As we approached each one, many asked my father if he was doing the right thing and to give it a second thought. But, my father was steadfast in his decision. There was no doctor in the family. I would be the first one. How could this opportunity be allowed to pass by? Moreover the trauma of my recent late night arrival was still fresh in his mind. I quietly followed him along, packed up and went home leaving behind what probably would have been a whole different life altogether if I had continued on there…..
THE ACCEPTANCE
I should have known. Anything that I had started on time had not lasted. I always started later than the first day of class. Started fifth standard in a new school because we moved late. Started eleventh standard late because Xth CBSE results came in much later than State Board results.
Once again accompanied by my father, I went to GMKMC for admission. It was a month late after classes had started. There was nothing new about the location for me. For two years, my school bus route included the bridge overlooking Ponni Super Market and for the past year it had been converted to the new Government Medical College. So, nothing to expect or get disappointed about.
Just as all the admission formalities were getting completed, I was waiting outside the vice principal’s office, when one of classes seemed to have been done and out came all my would be classmates. Some familiar faces among them. A couple of school classmates and a few familiar faces from the entrance coaching classes. All the girls were dressed in sarees. That was the rule. A couple of classmates whom I had known from school and always had seen in school uniform were now clad in a saree. How different they looked. One of them stopped by to talk to me. She talked about anatomy, physiology, embryology and biochemistry classes. Here we go again, I thought. Stuff that is probably going to go above my head instead of into it. She mentioned that the chapter on clavicle was done and they were going to start a new chapter. Clavicle? What is that? What did it mean?
And so started my first memories of GMKMC.
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