Gaiety and Gloom for the Hostel Warden

Way back in 1978 when I moved to stay in IIT hostel the young adolescents in the batch were told by the authorities warmly and reassuringly, “This is your home away from home”. Subsequent one-month ragging prevented the freshers from taking the welcome message seriously and it did not really sink in.

The hostel warden was Godlike – not because he was benign or all powerful but for the reason that he was simply there but was never seen by us. Unlike the connotation that his designation implied, there were almost no restrictions imposed by him that would interfere with our daily life- or whatever of it was left after the grueling classroom sessions, tutorials and lab work.

Occasionally we went for late night film shows and returned sometimes by 1 A M with no one breathing down our necks. This blissful state of affairs continued till one fateful day God decided to act as a common mortal. Egged on by the institute’s administration all hostel wardens in the campus were instructed to implement the new rule: all students were to seek warden’s written permission if they wanted to leave the hostel after 9 P M justifying the reason for it.

Obviously, this diktat was not taken kindly even by the docile student community who was mostly otherwise chained slavishly to its books and assignments. The student union- we hardly knew before that it even existed- decided to protest. Interestingly, the warden was also taken in confidence and was informed in advance about the one-night protest against the new rule. The strategy was simple: all the hostel residents were persuaded to call on the warden individually at ten- minute interval throughout the protest night with a request to allow them to go out of the hostel to make the rule appear ridiculous and unimplementable. Cooking the reason for seeking the permission for going out at that odd hour was left to our individual creativity.

I recall that my turn to call on the warden for his permission that night came around 11 P M. I saw the plump and harried warden sitting on a sofa in his drawing room in his residence adjoining the hostel. He was already wearing off by the incessant flow of uncalled visitors but he still put up a jovial smile asking me, “Yes, what is your emergency?” I mumbled something lamely about a severe stomach ache and the necessity of going to the campus hospital. He waved me off gently and I returned to my room glancing at the long queue of mobilized students who would be pestering the poor warden for a couple of hours more.

The happy outcome of the symbolic protest was that the draconian rule limiting the outing hours of the students was withdrawn from the next day itself. I wonder today whether all the wardens of other hostels in the campus also followed a similar strategy to apprise the Director about the implementation issues of the new rule.

The day of reckoning came for me when I was made the hostel warden in Indian Institute of Forest Management (IIFM), Bhopal, in 2010. I realized that probably the chickens had come home to roost though I believed sincerely that my past karmas as a student were not all that bad to make things difficult for me in my new avatar. Fortunately, as against three thousand students in IIT campus, we had hardly three hundred in IIFM. However, the reduced number did not, in any way, lessen the spice of my experience.

As hostel warden I was usually flooded with requests for change of rooms by students seeking more compatible partners in dual sharing rooms. The reasons justifying the change of room partners varied from routine to bizarre though I treated them alike- by rejecting all such requests summarily.

One student complained that his room partner was very social and there were many friends visiting him at all odd times because of which he was not able to study. Another student had a grouse that his partner drank a lot and consumed weed and he wanted to get out of the negative vibes of the room. There was yet another student who informed me that his room was stinking because his roomie was averse to taking baths and even his soiled socks were causing nuisance just at the door entrance.

I recall one student, V, an engineering graduate from National Institute of Technology, Bhopal and pursuing MBA in IIFM. He was of average height, fair and he always carefully combed back his wavy brown hair. Apart from his interest in theatre he had one distinct trait. He was fond of cosmetic makeup! He would apply powder on his face and probably light lipstick too. All these attributes would be evoking mild entertainment for all other students but his roommate, Hari Prasad Chaurasia from Bihar, grumbled that V, while applying makeup in front of a mirror, always sang an old Hindi song looking leeringly at him. The song was, ‘सजना है मुझे सजना के लिए’ (I need to deck up for my lover).

I can say that umpteen number of requests and reasons came before me during my wardenship tenure. The students and I showed a consistent behavior- the students never tired of making an attempt and I always stood like a rock. I never yielded in this regard admonished them to learn tolerance that would be needed later in their personal and official life.

One year we had a differently abled student in the campus who had difficulty in walking normally. He was quite short and wore leg braces or some contraption under his pants. Nevertheless, he could always be seen with a broad smile on his face. Somehow he had picked up the art of wielding nunchaku- a martial tool one can see in Bruce Lee movies. During a cultural evening after the orientation program of his batch, he gave a demonstration of his proficiency with nunchaku and he went one step further by doing one round blindfolded. Naturally, everyone in the audience was impressed and applauded heartily.

I was therefore surprised one day shortly after the commencement of the course when the room partner of nunchaku expert approached me with the usual request for the change of roomie. I went in to a sentimental monologue advising him that he should get inspired by his partner rather than asking for a change. He then told me that he was worried about the physical safety because the expert practiced with nunchaku in the confined space of the small room. I laughed it off by suggesting that he could maintain a safe distance while his partner practiced. At this point the student looked at me sullenly and told, “Sir, I am worried about his physical safety! I do not wish to witness any mishap if he injures himself while practicing in the room”.

The bizarre requests were not biased by gender. I used to observe two girls always sitting together side by side in every class while cozily chatting even during the lecture session. It so happened that they were room partners too in the girls’ hostel. I did not know about it till one of them approached me requesting for a change of room partner. When she divulged the name of her partner I asked her with a puzzled look, “But you two are so friendly with each other that you are always seen together even in the class”. She replied, “Yes sir, we are friendly but she has an annoying habit. She sleeps late and while I am asleep she keeps the lights on and frequently opens the steel wardrobe that makes a lot of sound and disturbs my sleep”.

By this time I was already seasoned and I thought I had come across all variety of reasons. I was definitely wrong. One holiday I was at my residence that happened to be just fifty meters away from the student’s hostels. I was surprised when half a dozen girls came to me with sheepish smiles and anxiety juxtaposed closely on their faces. When I asked the reason for their visit I was informed that they wanted to complain against another female student, N, in their hostel who was practicing black magic!

For an instant I could not believe my ears. I responded accordingly, “What nonsense you all are talking?” They heard me patiently and reported that N was frequently chanting mantras, casting spells and threatening them to use magic against them. The ultimate provocation that day was the appearance of blood like drops leading away from her room door in the hostel. They all pressed me to come immediately and see for myself if I did not believe them.

I was still unconvinced and asked, “How can you be sure that the so called blood has been spilled by N and not by a female housekeeping staff that visits to clean the rooms? I am more likely to believe such things are done by uneducated and illiterate women rather than by any one of our educated students”. When all the girls still repeated in unison that they knew it was N who was doing all the mischief, I had no option but to accompany them to the girls’ hostel.

I was taken to the corridor where N’s room was located and indeed I saw the drops of ‘blood’, or something similar, on the floor as complained by the group earlier. In order to avoid any embarrassment to N and also any chance of confrontation between the group and N, I asked the girls to disperse so that I could talk to her alone.

 I knocked at N’s door that was promptly opened. After the usual exchange of pleasantries, I told her, while still standing at the door, regarding the complaint by other residents against her about the use of black magic. N denied vehemently which was anyway anticipated. When I persisted in my inquiry by pointing to the floor where the red drops were glistening prominently, N immediately started sobbing loudly. To my utter horror and discomfort copious tears started rolling on her cheeks .

I cursed myself for being alone in that situation- a wailing young girl in the presence of a male warden, that too inside the girl’s hostel in front of her room, with no witness around. I realized that I was in a more vulnerable situation compared to her. I was so puzzled that I could hardly hear the explanation she was offering. I advised her softly that public opinion was also important and she should work on her PR even if she was not at fault. Somehow I wriggled out of the situation – less shaken by the black magic but more jolted by the tears.

One late evening I returned to IIFM campus from Bangalore where I had gone to interview the students for selection in our Post Graduate Program. As I was tired I went to bed by 10 PM after dinner. Within half an hour I was woken by the door- bell. A security guard at my gate informed that two students riding on a motor cycle met with an accident and were seriously injured. The motor cycle had swerved off a steep curve within the campus throwing them off the road and on the hill slope with vegetation. Apparently one boy’s head had hit against a tree while skidding on the slope. When I reached the spot with the security guard, there was nobody there but the motorcycle was lying unattended and ominously on the side of the road.

I directed the guard to accompany me and we went to the nearest hospital but we were informed that no new patient had come to them that night. I contacted the Students’ Union President who informed me that they were already with the injured students at a different hospital and gave me its location.

When I reached the hospital I saw the two boys in the emergency. The pillion rider had escaped with minor injuries though his thick glasses were shattered and he could barely see anything without them. However, the student who drove the motor cycle, Manish Jha, was very badly injured and his skull had a serious wound with his shirt covered in blood. He was strapped to the bed to prevent him from moving but he kept on hurling heavy abuses continuously in his pain because he was in not in his senses due to the combined effect of trauma and alcohol. The doctors were busy pumping out oozing blood with syringes so that it did not block his trachea or flood his lungs.

I asked the doctor about the chances of his survival but I was told that they would need to wait till his CAT scan for which the hospital had no facility. They arranged for an ambulance and we took him to another center for the scan. It was 1 A M by now. I was anxious for the students’ welfare but angry too. It was a case of drunken riding. After a heavy bout of drinking in the hostel, four students intended to ride to a nearby restaurant. Though Manish was fully sozzled he chose to drive assuring his friends, like a typical person who is drunk, that he was in his senses. The inevitable happened just within one kilometer from their hostel.

Not certain whether I should alert his parents at such an odd hour, I fought an internal battle. Late night we brought him back to the earlier hospital after the scan. The doctor assured me that Manish would survive and he also informed me that this was a daily routine for him; one or more students from some professional institution in the city would be brought almost regularly to the hospital with serious injuries after drunken driving. I ruminated how reckless one could be in putting one’s life at such a grave risk with no justification at all. It was true for all things: we do not value something that we get without putting any effort though it may be most important to us.

 Fortunately, Manish and the other student were discharged after five days in the hospital though the treatment lingered on. The curve of the road in the campus where their motor cycle had swerved off was christened ‘Anda Mod’ instead of ‘Andha Mod’ (blind curve) because Manish had a bald head and he had a nick name Anda - bald as an egg.

Life was moving at a gentle pace for me in IIFM till one day I was struck by a bolt from the blue. I was on a morning walk in the lovely campus along with another faculty member, Dr. C S Rathore. Suddenly a security guard came running to us and shouted that one student was drowning in Kaliya Sot, a reservoir just beyond the campus boundary wall. Initially we started running towards the spot in panic but we realized that it was about a kilometer away from our location. We rushed to Dr. Rathores’ nearby residence where he picked up his car and we drove in a tearing hurry.

It was easy to identify the spot as we could see that a few students had already gathered on the bank of the reservoir but there was a deathly and anxious silence in the air despite the small crowd. Dr. Kinhal, Director, IIFM, was already in the reservoir swimming weakly to locate the student, Sandeep, who had jumped in the reservoir earlier for a swim but was no longer seen anywhere. On inquiry it was revealed it was almost forty- five minutes since Sandeep was seen above water.

The likely outcome written on the wall was scary and unpalatable but I implored Dr. Kinhal to come out of the deep water as he himself was nearing sixty. I got busy on my phone and contacted the deep water divers informing them about our location. Two divers arrived shortly at site and asked the probable spot where Sandeep was seen last. His friends pointed out the approximate place and the diver reached there in no time because it was hardly fifteen meters away though water there was deep on account of the sloping ground.

By this time almost all the campus residents were standing there looking vacantly at the reservoir that was known among the general public for many drowning cases in the past. It was the most distressing sight for all of us when the diver went under the water for the third time and fetched out the lifeless body of Sandeep and brought to land pulling him by his hair. The students were stunned and I could hear many girls crying at such a tragic event just a day before Diwali. I was completely dazed too but unpleasant jobs had to be attended on priority. A hostel staff approached me and requested my permission in a whisper to bring a sheet from the store to cover the dead body.

Sandeep was from a rural background in Haryana and his father was in the ranks in a para military force, CISF. I gathered Sandeep’s parents’ phone number and called his home, quivering all the time about the impact of my news that would be brought on the unfortunate family members. The phone was picked by Sandeep’s uncle who also told me that the father was posted in another state and not in Haryana and he would be intimated immediately about the tragedy. Next I directed the security staff to report about the incident to the nearest police station because postmortem would be performed as it was a case of unnatural death. After the necessary police formalities at site, the dead body was taken for postmortem.

Sandeep’s father arrived on the next day by noon and he was taken straight to the government facility where postmortem was being conducted. By that time the postmortem was over and as suspected there was alcohol in his stomach. After the completion of all legal formalities Sandeep’s body was put in a vehicle so that it could be taken for the final rites at his home. It was then that I saw his father, who had maintained a somber silence till then, breaking down in tears.

My heart wrenched in pain by the waste of one precious life and also by the grief that was caused to that outwardly tough man. I found the heaviness around the mortuary very oppressive. Many students had come to bid a final good bye to Sandeep. Two boys from Sandeep’s village offered to go with the body accompanying his father to his native place for the final rites.

The institute’s bus with the students followed the vehicle carrying Sandeep’s body for some distance as a mark of respect for the departed soul before we returned to IIFM. For all of us back in the campus it was an empty and mournful day followed by the blackest Diwali night we had ever seen.