Yet Another Chopter
© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆
It started out as another winter morning, foggy and cold, with a layer of fresh dew all over the grassy and grimy areas, dirt piles swept into corners, over vigilant stray dogs, and huddled street people. The neighborhood bhadralok were all bundled up, scanning the morning newspapers with steaming mugs of chai, prior to getting ready for the daily sabji market stroll. I muddled through my morning routine reluctantly without my usual lukewarm water since the others had used most of it, and I didn't have time to heat up some more. Finally, I made it out of the house, traveled about two miles, and entered the cavernous halls of learning, aka, my junior college.
Imagine if you will, an imposing building designed and built by stern Jesuit missionaries, with spartan amenities and no regards to any comfort in mind. Built to impart knowledge, efficiently, ruthlessly, without any frills. Huge, cold classrooms, high sunless windows with bars, hard wooden benches like church pews. Besides the strongly military industrial fortress look preferred by these educators, there was one other strong theme that was apparent. The entire interior architecture was designed by Catholic martinets with a firm belief in keeping the sexes apart.
My freshman batch was divided into three sections, a mix of Science, Arts and Commerce streams. Section C was all Commerce, all boys. Section B had about 150 teenage boys, with high collars, long-haired, thick sideburns, bell-bottoms, etc. Think about a wiggling barrelful of monkeys, and you get the picture. Section A, which happened to be my section, was graced by some civilizing influence - there were something like 25 young ladies among the 150. All the boys were enchanted by the sheer blossoming during the summer months between the secondary school exams and the start of junior college. These young ladies were suddenly free from the constricting, shapeless school uniforms and seemed to have acquired extraordinary clothing sense with a riot of colors. The Catholic nunsense were unable to kill their fashion creativity, and I, for one, was quite pleased with their sense of style on display. Mind you, it was all quite demure, we were all still under our parental strict control at home and that of the Jesuit missionaries at this institution.
Did I mention the theme of "keep 'em apart" being the pervasive and dominant motif, There was a total of less than 150 young ladies, all sections and years combined for a place that offered undergraduate degrees and had an overall population of about 1200 students. The Girls Common Room was another smaller fortress-like building a few hundred feet away from the main building reputed to be stocked with comfy sofas and chairs. (I will have to ask my sisters, the reality may have been different than our imagination).
The Boys did not have any such space, and only could enjoy the vast open area on the west and south sides of the main building, no matter what the weather. There were no benches or other places to perch except dirt and grass. Oh, and there were some neighboring paanwala shops right outside the gates of the entire complex where some of the boys gathered, enjoyed camaraderie between puffs of cigarettes and an occasional paan or two. There was a "softie" ice-cream place about half a mile away and a Madras Cafe House, which was frequented by kids bored with classroom shenanigans and money jingling in their pockets. The softie was 1.25, I think, and a plain dosa was 1.50. The rite of bunking classes and partaking such forbidden delights could only be enjoyed rarely, alas. The Professors each took attendance prior to their lectures and had extraordinary sense to distinguish the actual corporeal presence vs. some friend doing their buddies a favor surreptitiously shouting, "Yassir!". One fellow classmate got into huge trouble with a Prof Mitra of Math dept. That guy didn't even lift his head from the attendance register, but singled out the hapless dude, and expelled him from the class. Academic instructions were not for the faint of the heart, apparently.
The only other place that could offer up some sanctuary to the Boys was an underground library, with many hard benches and cafeteria style tables between the unpainted concrete support pillars of the structure. The books were kept in a separate room guarded by a white-robed desi Jesuit Brother. That junior monk was disdainful and mean, having had plenty of experience with boys over the years who had not taken kindly to his diminutive stature or skin color, scrawling derogatory names in his beloved books.
Me and my small group of friends were lounging in the library one day, mind you, very discreetly between classes when Fr Proost, the principal, was making his rounds. This gruff, bearded man could strike fear in anyone's heart and often did so - students and parents alike. He observed us, saw no open books or any other study material on the table, walked over and growled, "Should I order some chai or coffee for this table?" We made an immediate and hasty departure with our books and other things.
Back to the "segregation by design" practices apparent for the place - there were two staircases connecting the three floors. One for Girls only. The other for Boys. Some authority figure would be parked near the stairs on one of the floors to ensure that there was no comingling. I went back to visit that place and met my Physics Prof. Fr de Brouwer twenty plus years after I had left, and that routine with two staircases was still firmly in place.
There was another reminder of our rigid social order - that of the College Canteen located at the other end of the huge lawn towards the back of the property. They made passable attempts at chai and decent Veggie Chops and assorted items like pakodas, among other things. Occasionally we could get steaming Samosas still dripping oil fresh from the fryer and some ooey gooey Jalebi's as well The Boys could go there whenever they wanted, but strict, unwritten protocol was in place for the Girls. Chhotu was the runner - he would run to the Girls Common Room, take orders to the Canteen, and run back deliver the snacks when ready. No Girls, apparently, had walked to the Canteen across the lawn which doubled as sports fields and parade grounds in the history of the place, to the best of my knowledge acquired through folklore. Until that fateful day.
One of the fellow classmates, this young lady with a rebellious streak, gathered a few fellow ladies and determinedly marched the few hundred steps to visit the Canteen. I happened to be in the vicinity and distinctly remember the horrified shout by Chhotu alerting everyone to this extraordinary event unfolding before our disbelieving eyes "Ladkiyān āa rahi hain!". The warning was heeded by all who ogled the spectacle with their mouths open as the ladies arrived and ordered some snacks. The smirking short-order cook, now somewhat recovered from the shock just enough to prepare the snacks while shaking his head about what the world was coming to, and Chhotu served them their snacks on the same grimy benches in the Canteen. There was some uncomfortable squirming about the cleanliness but after a few half-hearted swipes of Chhotu's less than clean towel, the then version of the gulabi gang settled down to enjoy their snacks. For once, it seemed that the Canteen was filled, more with rule-breaking glee and the girlish giggles instead of the usual raucous singing and rowdy laughter following the rude, crude, and socially unacceptable jokes.
The earth kept revolving around the sun following this, and the "incident" was investigated by the proper authorities. It wasn't repeated for the rest of my time there so the ladies may have been admonished about proper "lady-like" behavior by parents and educators alike but more likely the "forbidden" Canteen didn't quite turn out to be the place of their dreams.
I don't know if there is another Chhotu reincarnation is in place maintaining the equilibrium of the universe these days, running between the Canteen and the Girls Common Room carrying Veggie Chops and Samosas, or the library is being managed by another junior monk with a dour demeanor to match his sour outlook on life. Pretty sure that the separate Boys & Girls staircases are still in place. Sadly, both Fr Proost and Fr de Brouwer since have departed this earth.
These Veggie Chops are surely a great memory booster! Highly recommended.
© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆
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