H FOR : HOSTEL LIFE
“ " where you can give the world a damn
where a lad turns into a man”
On my first day in hostel I was a little bit disappointed. The hostel looked like a god-forbidden place for me on the first day. It was a square shape single storey building with the appearance of a ‘bhoot bangla’(home of ghosts).
The walls were boasting of imaginations of the emerging literally talents in erotic literature. In the middle, there was a yard bearing a couple of Neem and Coral trees. It was a bhoot bangla but the ghosts were no one but the hostelers. I cursed myself to have chosen this under-privileged place to live in.
As I was inquiring who looked after the hostel, a policeman came roaring his jeep to the entrance.
Police were like an ill-omen for the students like me who come to study in city from their villages. In villages police was the rarest sight. In my village they would either come to arrest someone or to beat someone badly. So the news of policeman’s entry in the village was the surest remedy for the children who wouldn’t come home early in the evening. ‘Come home on time otherwise police will catch you’ was like a death alarm to us. The overall effect made those creatures in khaki a horrible sight for me. So the policeman had come to show the hostel where he had lived the golden years of his life. He was lost in the nostalgia. He was smiling all the while. His face was brimming with a new light. His age seemed reduced by a decade or two. I felt at that time ‘what’s so memorable in this old and pale building?’
Now as I am away from the hostel, I feel an urge to visit that square-shaped place and a strong desire to live those intoxicating days once again haunts me the days which have given me the most important lessons to crack this exams what is called as ‘life’