Daily writing prompt

What colleges have you attended?

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Hello dear friends—I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood too.

Today’s writing prompt, “What colleges have you attended?”, appears deceptively simple. At first glance, it feels like a routine question—one meant to be answered with a list of names, locations, and degrees.

But when I paused for a moment, something unexpected happened. Memories from my college days erupted all at once.

Yes, the question transformed. It opened a door to nostalgia, identity, and the subtle yet lasting ways education shapes who we become.

Now, in what I fondly call my golden age, this prompt is no longer about institutions alone; it is about revived memories, lived experiences, transitions, and the many classrooms—formal and informal—that quietly leave their imprint on our lives.

When we think of the colleges we’ve attended, our minds may rush toward official details.
Yet memory rarely works that way. Instead, it offers fragments: the smell of old library books, the nervous excitement of the very first day, the comfort of a favorite corner between lectures.

A college is not merely a campus

Yes, a college is not merely a campus—it is a season of life. It is where many of us first learned independence, responsibility, and the courage to ask questions without guaranteed answers.

For some, the answer to this prompt includes just one college—a straight, uninterrupted journey from admission to graduation.

For me, it is a mosaic: a community college followed by a university, transitions across places, returns to education after pauses, and even chapters left unfinished.

Each path is valid. Each tells a story of circumstance, resilience, and choice. The beauty of this prompt lies in its inclusiveness—it invites us to honor all journeys, not just the polished outcomes.

A sudden wave of nostalgia.

For me, this question triggered a sudden wave of nostalgia. Out of the blue, memories of my student life came rushing back—especially those unforgettable days spent in the hostel at Ranchi Agriculture College.

Years had passed, yet in an instant, I was there again.

Those were the days when I lived away from home for the first time, sharing space with strangers who soon became friends.

The thrill of newfound freedom was intoxicating—except for one unforgettable detail: the hostel food.

After securing admission and being allotted a room, I remember being awestruck by the grandeur of the campus and the imposing hostel building.

On the very first day, a small group of nervous freshers gathered in hushed voices, discussing strategies to avoid ragging.

Fear and excitement walked hand in hand during those early hours.

That evening, hunger led us to the hostel cafeteria—a cavernous hall echoing with clattering plates and nervous chatter.

Long wooden tables stood in neat rows, bearing silent witness to generations of students who had sat there before us, hopeful and hungry, just like we were.

We chose our seats eagerly, hearts light with anticipation, convinced that adulthood had officially begun.

The aroma in the air promised sustenance, if not delight. Plates were served one by one, and as the food settled before us, so did reality.

The dal(Pulse) was thin enough to pass for tinted water, and the aloo-gobhi seemed to be playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek.

A moment of stunned silence followed—until one of my quick-witted companions broke it with a grin,
“Is this dal, or have they just boiled optimism in water?”

Laughter rippled across the table, dissolving disappointment into camaraderie.

In that instant, I realized something important: college life wasn’t about perfection—it was about learning to laugh together when expectations collapsed.

Then came the rotis(Wheat Bread)—each one a unique experiment. Some were half-cooked, others charred beyond recognition, and a few bore mysterious handprint patterns, as if the cook had left behind a signature of surrender. 😂

Health concerns were briefly discussed, then promptly ignored. Hunger, after all, is a persuasive negotiator.

Just when morale was at its lowest, a vegetable dish arrived that looked suspiciously like my favorite—parwal bhujia. Hope surged. I took a generous bite, already tasting comfort.

And then—betrayal.

It wasn’t parwal(Vegetable) at all, but kundri. Bitter, overcooked, and utterly unapologetic. I spat it out without hesitation.

From that moment on, kundri and I became sworn enemies, locked in a silent war that continues to this day. Some rivalries are born not of choice, but of trauma.

Yet hunger humbles everyone. We ate what we could, laughing, complaining, bonding. Being an agriculture college, many of my hostel mates came from rural backgrounds and possessed heroic appetites.

I struggled to finish two rotis, while others treated the meal like a competitive sport. My friend Anil, in particular, consumed rotis by the dozen—twenty in one sitting—and still looked around as if searching for more.

This spectacle caught the attention of the hostel mess contractor, who approached our table with visible alarm. Half-joking, half-panicked, he declared,
“If all of you eat like this every day, I’ll be bankrupt before the semester ends!”

That comment lit the fuse. Weeks of suppressed frustration over watery dal and deceptive vegetables finally boiled over. Anil, powered by hunger and indignation, lifted his steel plate and hurled it in protest. It missed its target—but it struck fear.

Word spread like wildfire across the campus

Chaos followed. Word spread like wildfire across the campus: the freshers had arrived, and they were not to be trifled with.

Most of us hailed from the so-called dabang districts of Bihar—Nawada, Bihar Sharif, Jehanabad—and suddenly, a reputation preceded us.

Ironically, that reputation became our shield. No senior dared to rag us. Without enduring a single hazing ritual, we rose to mythical status in the hostel corridors—the “gentle goons,” fierce in legend, harmless in truth.

Yes, friends, today, when I reflect on the colleges I attended, I realize it was never about classrooms alone. It was about moments like these—shared meals, shared laughter, shared rebellion.

It was about friendships forged over disappointment and strengthened through humor. Education, I’ve learned, happens as much at the mess table as it does in lecture halls.

And as for kundri bhujia?😂😂
Some lessons stay with you forever. Some wounds… never quite heal. 😊

BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE

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Categories: ##Memoire

Tags: #Life, #Travel, college, dailyprompt, dailyprompt-1806, education, featured, writing