A period of my life stands unmistakably lucid in my memory. It was the summer of 1997 that I enrolled in REC Calicut for four years of harrowingly memorable college. To be fair enough, there were good things and there were an equal number of bad things. Good or bad, all one could do at that point of time was take things in one’s stride and face it with a grin.
First came the language factor. Its not a pleasant experience being the only North Eastern girl in a bunch of malayalis in the hostel and not understanding a word being jabbered about. The endless streams of Malayalam got exchanged back and forth, while we poor minorities from the northern part of the country looked at each other’s faces and rolled our eyes! But all that became history when I met my best friend Anju. She’s the sweetest girl in the whole wide world, my teacher through 4 years of college to whom I truly owe my degree. She taught me the basics of the language. Then came much needed help in the form of mess chechis. (Chechi = elder sister) Slowly and steadily, I learnt the language and was soon the newest sensation in the hostel, the college and pretty much the town. I became this chinky female from God only knows where, who suddenly understands Malayalam and speaks it too. It was truly one of the finest moments of my life…
The college was just like any other semi-urban one, boys dominating the population and fighting over which girl would have the good fortune to be their girlfriend. Evening trips to the Happy Valley and Sorrow Valley (a.k.a. the Couples Valley) ensured constant romance in full bloom. Rumours spread faster even than wildfire and sometimes I think the general populace got wind of probable link ups even faster than the two main people concerned!
The problem with these romances was that unfortunately the profs’ houses used to line the Valley to Hostel route. Those dirty old geezers used to give us even dirtier looks as if to say wait- till-the-sessionals-come, you-people-are-in-hot-soup. But being the typical rebel, I usually gave a damn. Looking back makes me wonder how it was I ever passed their tests, esp that horrid, cranky old Fluid Mechanics prof who had made me his pet peeve.
I almost wish I didnt have to mention the grossest part of the 4 years… But like life, Calicut also has its dark side, without which the story shall remain incomplete. The college was a good one hour bus journey from the city. A mere 7 bucks was the fare, although the crowded buses rarely were empty. An interesting concept prevalent down south is the “ladies seat” at the front of the bus. Even then, some male would invariably have parked his butt there and it was always a pleasure to see sharp ladies deliver their comeuppance and eject them out from the privileged seat!
More often than not, these buses used to commute perverts and creeps, who’se fave pass time was to feel up girls. This trait was not only isolated to buses but the main city, walking amidst crowded frustated men… still sends a shiver up my spine. I recollect a belligerent moment of slapping a creep in a crowded bus plus delivering the choicest of Malli gaalis I could possibly think of, that I’m sure left him wondering if he’d felt up the wrong girl… I’d also like to take this moment to publicly enlighten the Kerala government that your ladies seat still doesnt guarantee safety of the women occupying them!
Calicut was my home for 4 years. In this short duration, I inculcated a love for malayali food, some of which I still make in my home and I must say have a new found respect for the multi-talented coconut. I love the beautiful backwaters, the spectacular beaches and also learnt to live with the hot, humid weather. It was a 4 years well spent and all my learning experiences has made me what I am today. So no regrets whatsoever….never did that, never will either. Since I’m all grown up now, I’m truly less in denial now than before. I’d say it was a time well spent, a life lived to the fullest and will blessedly continue till I live. Cheers!
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