I could have been maimed or killed.....

I could have been maimed or killed …. This happened when I was doing my Teacher’s training in Lucknow Christian College and it is an incident I will and can never forget. Lucknow Christian college, affiliated to Lucknow University, is situated in an area called Gola Gunj – and by what I had heard earlier – it was quite a notorious area back in the day. It was in the old part of the city so it had narrow winding roads, a few tree lined lanes, plenty of shops and was quite noisy and dusty due to the large volume of traffic. There was always a traffic jam at the intersection near the college. I arrived at Lucknow railway station early one Saturday morning, a few weeks after the Academic year had begun & proceeded to the hostel in a cycle rickshaw with my possessions, which comprised a large steel trunk , a small bag and a guitar without a case. I must tell you that I travelled overnight , without a ticket and reservation , in a passenger train from Allahabad, my hometown. The journey itself was rather uneventful, except for the fact that the bogey I travelled in was reserved for army soldiers and If one wanted to travel in this compartment , it was possible, by paying a small sum of money to those within – no ticket was issued or asked for and no one came to check either, so it was a small saving too ! I was a trifle apprehensive as it was the first time I was going to reside in a hostel and by what I had gathered , it had all types residing in it and although ragging was officially banned , that was on paper so to speak . There were two main hostels on campus – OC and C L Bare. OC was supposed to be the better of the two where the to be teachers were allotted most of the rooms. CL Bare on the other hand was supposed to be rather notorious & the rooms there were allotted to those doing courses in Physical education. I was allotted a sharing room in OC Hostel & I was to share the room with another young man from Allahabad. I was pleasantly surprised on arrival to see that I also knew a friend’s brother who was in the adjoining room. Rumour had it that the ragging in CL Bare Hostel was very bad and in the past boys had been suspended for the same. Introductions over, hot tea was prepared on the small electric stove (although this was banned) sleeping arrangements were sorted out, I unpacked my trunk and started to make the tiny hostel room feel like home! I had a two in one cassette player with a few old cassettes and se we put on some music – life was good! We had a one-year course ahead of us so there was excitement in the air. The three of us being together made us feel secure and gave me a little more confidence than when I entered a few hours ago. The toilets and bathing cubicles were at the end of the corridor and when I examined them, I was not thrilled, but they were not too bad either . What did strike me as odd was that firstly there were no geysers for hot water and secondly, rather that bathe inside the cubicles, boys were bathing outside and using the sink to fill water and substitute as a bucket! Now, to enable you to understand as how this incident happened let me attempt to enlighten you on the specifications of the building. There were two floors, with rooms in a rectangular building approximately fifty meters long and thirty metres wide. In the centre was an open courtyard which we had to cross to go out of the hostel for meals etc. An open corridor ran along the length and breadth of the building. Our room was on the first floor which was nice as it was bright, and airy & we could come out on to the open corridor and look down on the courtyard below. Not sure what we ate for lunch, but I remember sleeping in the afternoon and then waking and sitting with our mugs of tea in the corridor outside our room. As expected, I was asked to bring out the guitar and play. I loved doing that and needed no second prompting. The playing, the clapping along and the singing continued till around eight pm after which we decided to go for dinner. The restaurants or rather “dhabas” were just opposite the hostel gate, so locking the door, we proceeded for dinner. We crossed the courtyard, went through an archway of another building, exited the gate and were soon tucking into a yummy dinner comprising chunks of meat floating in thick red , spicy gravy , green salad and hot chapattis and pickle . Just for information- the meal, per person, cost two rupees and fifty paise – the gravy and the chapattis were unlimited! We ate our fill, planned what to do about breakfast as money was not plentiful but we nevertheless felt good about ourselves! We caught up on news about Allahabad and I told them how I had travelled ticketless and we decided to do that as often as possible. That done, we stood around beside the “dhabba” surveying the scene. Cars, scooters, cycles, buses, dogs, cows all jostled for place. It was the weekend and hence it seemed everyone was out. We then decided to get back to our hostel as we had planned to go to church early the next morning it being a Sunday We entered our building and rather than cross the courtyard, we strolled along the corridor passing all the rooms. Suddenly all hell broke loose and several things happened in very close succession. The doors to two or three rooms were suddenly flung open – about eight young men came rushing towards the three of us from within , shouting and abusing - my two friends ran off as fast as they could and I was dragged into one of the rooms followed by about seven or eight of these students . There was a bit of a scuffle, I was roughed up, someone smacked me, someone else kicked me and I was held down on a bed. Then from all angles there were questions flung at me. “Where was I from”? “When had I arrived “? “Did I live in this hostel”? “Which course was I doing”? “Why was I playing the guitar when I knew others were studying”? “Was I acting smart”? “Did I want to fight anyone and prove who I was”? “Why wasn’t I acting smart now”? To say I was terrified would have put it mildly. I was literally petrified and very shaken, but I kept my wits about me. With folded hands I begged for mercy & forgiveness, said I had made a huge mistake as I did not know that others were studying and I had disturbed them , said sorry in every way I possibly could – both in English and in Hindi and then added in for good measure and what it was worth , that I played in a band and was a part time musician ,guitarist and singer . Suddenly the whole atmosphere in the tiny room changed. The leader of these so-called goons ordered them to let me sit up and asked me if I could teach him to play the guitar. He was built like a wrestler, sported a thick beard, had beady eyes, and had a hockey stick in his hand which he banged menacingly on the ground! One or two others had hockey sticks as well. I did not see any ball ! On agreeing to do so, there were smiles and handshakes and a few of them apologised for what they said was a total misunderstanding. My ears were still stinging from the smacks I had received, and my left arm felt as if it was dislocated after being twisted. My backside felt sore as hell but I was not complaining – I was thankful as it could have been worse and oh yes – I was alive ! Just then there was a loud banging on the door. My friends had run to the house of the hostel warden to inform him of what had transpired, and he had arrived with two security guards. The hockey sticks were hurriedly hidden, and no one knew what to expect. The door was opened, and I saw the warden, two guards and my friends all standing outside. Quite a crowd of students had gathered as well. The warden who was a tall , tough looking , well-built gentleman then asked me what exactly had transpired – who all had threatened and beaten me and said that he was going to make a police case to get the students expelled from the hostel and the university. To everyone’s surprise and to the utter astonishment of my two friends I said that nothing had happened and the whole thing was one big misunderstanding. I added that these students had asked me to come into the room and we were talking about music. On being asked if they had roughed me up or beaten me, I answered with a vehement no! The warden looked disgusted as he knew I was lying but I stuck to my story despite all the interrogation and assurances that nothing would happen to me if I told the truth. I did not budge Everyone then dispersed and I went up to my room. My friends were there, and they told me how I had made them look so foolish. A few minutes later, the students who had attacked me entered. They apologised and thanked me profusely for not telling on them, and the leader asked me when I would start teaching him to play the guitar (That is another story but to be brief let me tell you that he was tone deaf and never learnt to pay a chord) However, that day onwards I was a mini celebrity in the hostel as the goons were now very respectful friends. Other boys looked at me, nodded and smiled. My friends enjoyed the same status too. I played my guitar as, when and wherever I pleased. While the general ragging was going at night, we would walk by with impunity knowing that we had the “backing” of the big dads as was the term used in the hostel. Like others, I bathed outside the cubicles and was always offered a space, never having to wait. It sure made me feel good. I guess at times one must swallow one’s pride, use common sense and live to fight another day. I am scared to even imagine what could have happened if I had been stupid and tattled that day. I must say the year went by very peacefully thereafter and in fact I enjoyed my stay. As they say – All’s well that ends well.