The Hostel Chronicles

It had been years, but today, out of the blue, a vivid wave of nostalgia swept over me — memories of my student life, especially those unforgettable days spent in the hostel.

Oh, what days they were!

For the first time in my life, I was away from home, living in a hostel, surrounded by newfound friends. The thrill of this newfound freedom was exhilarating — except for one thing. One major thing: the hostel food!

It all began when I secured admission to Ranchi Agriculture College and was simultaneously allotted a room in the college hostel. The campus was grand, and the hostel building was no less majestic.

On the first day, after getting settled in our rooms and arranging our things, a small group of nervous freshers gathered to discuss how to avoid ragging. This was a big concern for the newcomers to college.

It was a new experience for me, and every moment felt exciting. After a busy day, we were hungry and ready for dinner.

With a few new friends, I went to the hostel cafeteria — a large hall with wooden tables and chairs. It seemed inviting, and we sat down, eager for our first meal in this new part of life.

Soon, the food arrived.

And just like that, our hopes crumbled.

The “dal” (pulse) resembled yellow water, and the “aloo-gobhi” (vegetable) was lost in a bland curry. One of my witty friends lightened the mood with a sarcastic comment:
“How am I supposed to find potatoes in this soup? I can’t even swim!”
Everyone laughed, easing the disappointment a bit.

Then came the rotis(Wheat Bread) — each one a masterpiece of imperfection. Some were half-cooked, others were half-burnt, and a few bore curious handprint imprints. It was clear that our health might soon become a casualty of this culinary assault.

But wait — something else was served. A plate of what appeared to be my favorite: parwal (pointed gourd) bhujia! My taste buds rejoiced. I eagerly scooped up a mouthful and shoved it in.

Disaster.

Turns out it wasn’t parwal, but kundri (ivy gourd), and not just any kundri — it was bitter, overcooked, and revolting. I spit it out immediately, and since that traumatic day, Kundri and I have been mortal enemies. Our war continues to this day.

Anyway, hunger knows no pride, and we ate whatever we could.

Being an agriculture college, many of my hostel mates came from rural areas and had big appetites. I, however, could hardly finish two rotis. Others had no limits. I still recall my friend Anil, who ate twenty rotis in one sitting and still seemed hungry.

Our gluttony caught the attention of the hostel mess contractor, who approached our table and, half-jokingly, half-panicked, declared,
“I can’t feed you guys like this! If each student eats 20–25 rotis, I’ll go bankrupt!”

That was it. The simmering resentment over bad food boiled over.

Students, especially when in groups, can be explosive. Anil, already fueled by frustration and flour, lifted his steel plate and flung it at the contractor. Thankfully, it missed his head. But chaos erupted.

Soon, word spread across the campus — the freshers from the first trimester were a force to reckon with, most of them hailing from the so-called “dabang” (fearless) districts of Bihar like Nawada, Bihar Sharif, and Jehanabad.

This reputation unexpectedly worked in our favor. From that day on, no senior dared to rag us. Without enduring a single hazing session, we rose to legendary status in the hostel — the “gentle goons,” as someone once called us.

Even now, whenever I think of those early hostel days, a smile automatically graces my face. The friendships, the laughter, the youthful chaos — they remain some of the most golden moments of my life.

But as for kundri bhujia?
Let’s just say — some wounds never heal. 😊

BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE

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Categories: मेरे संस्मरण

Tags: #happiness, #HostelLife, #Memoire, #StudentLife, #Travel, #Travel Blog, asia, featured, solo-travel, thailand