My Hostel Stories - A roller Coaster Ride

I was piling things up, collecting food, clothes, photos and a lifetime of memory I spent at my home. I knew I would never be the same when I came back home the next time. Apprehensive and cheerful all at the same time, I was breathing heavily. And with all the fake smiles I could deliver to my parents as an assurance, I left for my new Journey. A journey that demanded a better me, a greater me, and probably the best version of me!

It’s my first ever day in Hyderabad. New city, new expectations! The autowalas here were a bit different though Helpful and comforting! “Gachibowli chaloge?” - I asked. “Bilkul Chalenge”, he answered in a sweet tone. They are so nice to people here. I get down at the destination to look for a maroon colored hostel that goes by the name Happy Homes. Not as happy as my first home though, I laughed out.

I’d heard that wardens were a pure mess! They were frightening, enraged and surly. Hopefully, this didn’t seem to be the case with me. I was confronted with a tall man, seemingly of my age, who smiled to greet me at the gate. He must have been informed of my arrival. Believe me, my parents never met me this way! My aura felt so royal that single moment.

The warden let me through a couple of vacant 3 sharing rooms and gave me the freedom to choose any from the options. I decided to shift into one on the third floor, with two other boys of my age and much importantly, of my kind. It was the best thing that could happen to me. We’re best friends now and the bond doesn’t even seem to break!

I was never good at sparking conversations. I waited until the person at the other end wanted to ask his heart out. And when I would mix up, I would never stop narrating conversations with them. I would speak them to sleep, one thing they would’ve hated. We were 40 boys spread across 15 rooms and 3 floors. We were so diverse and different from each other, yet so identical and indistinguishable in our own ways! We talked about almost anything in our free time. Politics, science, social issues, you name it!

The warden was so nice to us all. Every 1^st of the month was bliss for us. He received his pay on that day and so he used to get us a lot of eatables. It was joy more than food. I never felt away from home. He’d never scold us when we played cricket in the space that was meant for parking. We would hit the ball across the hostel boundaries and that is when the neighbors weren’t nice to us. They hated to see us play. They feared we would do damage to their things. But we never took things seriously. We assured them this was the last time and we forgot everything by the start of the next day.

The best part of hostel life was birthdays. Friends were more excited for my birthday than I was. Because I had to bring them food and drinks and all they would’ve to do is eat, sing and rejoice. We would count days and hours and minutes and even seconds for our best friend’s birthdays. Everyone turned into a party animal at birthdays. But not as happy as it seems, every birthday earned us a complaint from the neighborhood and owner went mad at us the next day. But we never stopped!

I have no idea how a couple of years slipped out. And it was time we travel our own ways. I couldn’t imagine I would get close to someone so badly that I would never miss a call from them. Yes, we separated. But we collected memories enough to last for a lifetime, and even beyond! I wish I could travel back in time and relive all the ecstatic memories my hostel gave me. But if that’s not a valid option, I always get nostalgic recalling my hostel time. High like a roller-coaster ride!

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