If anyone was ever asked to example-ify the antonym for ‘hunky-dory’, they should catch hold of my pensieve (only Potter fans will get this one
) and fish out the summer of 2005. As if it wasn’t enough that I was flunking every engineering entrance exam that existed within the Indian borders, had just broken up with my first this-could-last-forever boyfriend and was devouring a year’s supply of a Third World Country’s rations for a single meal; some Bloke Up There with a weird sense of humour decided that I should be sent to Chennai to study architecture. And just so that I can justify it to every Tom, Dick and Subramani when raised eyebrows questioned my decision to trek across the country for a college education, He ensured that I scored a super All India Rank for an exam I studied only half a day for. Meh.
Thankfully, the time lag between ‘You’re going to Chennai!!!’ and ‘Bye Ma, I’ll miss you *sobs openly at airport*’ was too short for the implication of having to live the prime of my youth (heh..) in an alien city, to really hit home. Between extreme retail therapy, earnest goodbyes and promises to keep in touch forever, I barely found the time to panic or feel sad. There was also this excitement of being able to have dosai and medhu vadai for breakfast, lunch and dinner and it seemed to justify leaving home. Completely.
The first few days in Chennai were a series of ‘Whoa!’ moments. It started the minute Baba and I exited the airport and were bombarded by taxi-drivers/ auto-wallahs who all looked like they’d jumped out of a Zabaan Sambhaal Ke episode. It continued on the ride to the guest house where we were to stay. Nobody spoke Hindi, including the RJs on Radio Mirchi. So! Many! Billboards! And WHERE were the malls?! *gasp! horror!*
Having checked-in, I settled down to relax with the one activity known to mankind that is a foolproof way to kill time – channel surf. Sun TV. Jaya TV. SS Music. Vijay TV. Raj TV. Where was Sony?! Zee, Star, Zoom? And where, oh where, were [V] and MTV? The first commercial I had the patience to watch in its entirety was for a brand of ghee. It involved a very, very healthy Jyothika exercising and I feared for the treadmill. Joy.
Baba and I went for admission the next day, to my soon-to-be college. The campus was deserted. The lawns did not have random boys and girls sitting together and laughing, flirting, studying. Isn’t that what college was supposed to be like? I’d seen Kuch Kuch Hota Hai 6 times, for chrissake! Funnily, none of the girls wore jeans, everyone’s hair was tied and they all walked in same-sex groups. Not a problem, I thought, I’ll be the cool girl from Delhi. Yay! This looked promising. It was only later, much later, when I walked into the girls’ hostel that I realized something was wrong. The warden looked at me up and down, in a way not even a Delhi auto-wallah had dared to and took in my indecency – I was in capris and a sleeveless kurta.
W: You don’t know the dress code?
Me: Huh?
W: Why are you not in the dress code?
Me: What dress code?!
W: They didn’t tell you?
Me: The AIEEE brochure does not talk about any dress code *smug, self-important, all-knowing tone*
W: Salwaar-Kameez, no sleeveless, no tight fitting, kurta till the knees, pin the dupatta in a ‘V’ across the chest, no open hair.
THAT was the first time, I think, I wanted to run away. It was a feeling that was to stay on for the next five years. The warden refused to allot me a room till I bought and showed her atleast 3 sets of salwar-kameez. I wondered how my wardrobe had any connection with me getting a room in the hostel. Little did I know then, that your business is always their business. That evening, I went down for attendance. Apparently, all girls had to be within the hostel premises by 6 in the evening, the warden then took attendance and the front gate to every wing was then locked. Yes, very jail-like. I had the audacity to wear Bermudas and was blessed with a look from the warden, 5 full seconds of hateful scorn when I said ‘present!’ while she raped my name. She pulled me aside soon after and said ‘such presence is not allowed here’, while I gaped. I was wearing knee-length shorts in a room full of girls!
And that was just the first day.
17 responses to “A Recipe for Disaster, Tadka Laga Ke”
Gaurav
April 8th, 2010 at 08:48
Entertaining, even though I’ve heard this story before. The Govt of Chennai is going to sue you if they read this one
nancy
April 8th, 2010 at 08:54
ha ha ha gin nice one…keep it goin
by de way ur still in chennai…if u say anythin bad abt my place ill come nd kick de life out of u…mind it!!!!*muhahahaha*(de evil laugh)
Shikhar Singh
April 8th, 2010 at 09:51
dai.. yenna da?? thum waphas dillai nai aana ko chahta khya??? waiyse.. humkho puraane dhin yaad aa ghaya.. aphna nai bewakhoof.. ladkhiyon ka.. cilaas ki…
surajit
April 8th, 2010 at 09:58
wow…actully u should have been a journalist/feature writer or something….btw i fig out the title of the book u should write ” half a decade in the land of idly vada”
…waiting to know abt the rest of ur ordeal.
UD
April 8th, 2010 at 11:41
so politically incorrect and at da same time pretty effusive of ur so called chennai rant….in short enjoyble.!!..i luv it:).
vika
April 8th, 2010 at 12:22
N-A-B-A-M-I-L-K-A!
this is how that female pronounced ur name, anyways loved the post! brought back all the five yr old memories, I still vividly remember seeing you in your trademark capris and white tee trying to explain what thirumangalam is! Remember we used to miss attendance talking? and that i was APA-RUBA( Rhyme with dilruba
Maybe MGR was doomed from start, but see we met because of it and thats a good thing
ahundredindecisions
April 8th, 2010 at 14:39
@Gaurav, Nancy, UD: the beauty lies in it being politically incorrect


@Shikhar: lol.. chalo, kuchh toh achha nikla isse!
@Surajit: Arre na.. I’m not that good at it. Thanks, nevertheless
@Vika: MGR gave us so much, at the cost of so much more.. Most of all, fodder for much blogging
Buntypehelwaan
April 8th, 2010 at 15:23
Ale ale.. no ang-pradarshan allowed?
I am wondering what the warden wears in her home. Raising my hand FOR her pictures in shorts
Wonder whys I like Thunder Thighs!
Hey, if you are still in Chennai, gift your Bermoodass to her. Will set her hubby’s mood.
Taher
April 8th, 2010 at 15:27
Against the pious laws of your current lowekeshan and unwaxed warden, I officially prounounce thee – Cool.
*hands pighla hua ice-cream trophy and throws imaginary hat in air*
Athar....M
April 8th, 2010 at 15:28
Koi “like” button nahi hai??
Appu
April 8th, 2010 at 16:50
wow.. this just reminded me of MY first day at college and the hostel.. nice writing gin. keep it up.
*hug*
ahundredindecisions
April 8th, 2010 at 17:13
@Bunty: YOU need a shrink. No, really.
Are you now prepared for my thank you speech?
@Taher: awwww
@Athar: Thank you hai
@Appu: Again, you’re such a doll
joel
April 9th, 2010 at 03:31
damn… i never knew gals hostel would hav been so boring… damn these bas**** they made both the outside and the inside boring!! * at least now learn frm this guys u’ll not find heaven behind that wall!! don jump, it’s a waste of time
*
aishu
April 9th, 2010 at 07:33
nice blog…. good work dis time also….gini this is chennai….. how cud u expect channel v and zoom??????? its like expecting to have curd rice wid pickle in japan….. i will join nancy in kickin u if say anythin bad abt dis place…. (its ure first and final warning……ure excused dis time.) lol…. anyways… great work girl keep goin…..
Sayantan
April 9th, 2010 at 18:34
tumi na thakle sukumar ray gamcha golaye khobor porto!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ahundredindecisions
April 10th, 2010 at 16:12
@Joel: A girls’ hostel being heaven-in-disguise is just a myth :/
@Aishu: I’m scared! I’me vewy scared!
@Sayantan: aebaar maane ta o bujhiye din :/
Roshan Toshniwal
April 11th, 2010 at 09:12
sounds very exaggerated though quite convincing. These incidents were quite possible in Satyabhama but I have my doubts about MGR. I think the college was quite liberal about lot of things, there were instances where a classmate of mine use to come drunk and sit through the class. I had started the tradition of bunking classes in the very first year of the college, although there were hardly any and was caught by Shankar and Ravindran two of our faculty just outside the gates. Reading your memoirs of the college days, sounds more of brooding about your stay and I don’t deny that I was equally negative about the college but we must take positives and highlight them. Write some good memories of the place to keep the residents happy.
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