There were numerous “newar beds” with mattresses. There were white sheets and lumpy pillows in white too.
Each bed had a small locker too, which had some personal efects of the last occupant.Mine had half a tube of Boroline , a used train ticket and a half smoked joint of i-dont-want-to-know-what .This was supposed to be our lodgings for the next year and half. But ebullience won over .
I remember pillow fights and delicious gossip sessions during the nights. I also remember raiding others suitcases , for paltry snack packets ., without any qualms of conscience.
Morning we had to queue for the loo and everyone with a person behind was in the danger of having her back smeared with toothpaste foam . Gross! Not to mention throwing of soap suds over the short walls to your neighbouring shower stall, to be met with a volley of abuses.
To race to the dining hall , so that one is not the last one to have breakfast, in which case, you’ll get broken boiled eggs, hard ,cold toast, and no butter/jam. Even the tea could turn cold if one was not quick enough.
This is where I learnt to bolt my food.
The beds doubled as dining tables when the need arose to snack in between meals and classes, which was frequent. The beds also were de facto study desks . Lots of assignments were written , love letters drafted and projects completed on them. Morning they would also hear the crinkling of newsprint for the diligent few , who really read the paper, every morning picked up from the newspaper display board in the dorm , before leaving for assembly grounds.
Those pillows have also soaked up tears and dreams and laughter, and scorn and anxiety. `the mattresses are heavy with age and memories . Those beds were uncomfortable but great. One hardly noticed the discomfiture. You could blame it on the blinkered enthusiasm of the youth .
Each bed had a small locker too, which had some personal efects of the last occupant.Mine had half a tube of Boroline , a used train ticket and a half smoked joint of i-dont-want-to-know-what .This was supposed to be our lodgings for the next year and half. But ebullience won over .
I remember pillow fights and delicious gossip sessions during the nights. I also remember raiding others suitcases , for paltry snack packets ., without any qualms of conscience.
Morning we had to queue for the loo and everyone with a person behind was in the danger of having her back smeared with toothpaste foam . Gross! Not to mention throwing of soap suds over the short walls to your neighbouring shower stall, to be met with a volley of abuses.
To race to the dining hall , so that one is not the last one to have breakfast, in which case, you’ll get broken boiled eggs, hard ,cold toast, and no butter/jam. Even the tea could turn cold if one was not quick enough.
This is where I learnt to bolt my food.
The beds doubled as dining tables when the need arose to snack in between meals and classes, which was frequent. The beds also were de facto study desks . Lots of assignments were written , love letters drafted and projects completed on them. Morning they would also hear the crinkling of newsprint for the diligent few , who really read the paper, every morning picked up from the newspaper display board in the dorm , before leaving for assembly grounds.
Those pillows have also soaked up tears and dreams and laughter, and scorn and anxiety. `the mattresses are heavy with age and memories . Those beds were uncomfortable but great. One hardly noticed the discomfiture. You could blame it on the blinkered enthusiasm of the youth .
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