Part.1

Ragging is a Criminal Offence

There are three kinds of students: ones who are sure what they want and

achieve it, ones who know what they want but never achieve it, and

finally (the kind that I am) those who don't know what they want.

After completing my schooling from Rihand Nagar, Sonebhadra, UP, I

was like all the others who took the age old path of engineering. There was no

decision making involved in the choice; those who took maths would appear

for the engineering exams, so I too joined the rat race.

I joined a coaching class for the IIT entrance exam. I wasted two years in

the hope of gaining admission into an IIT. Being a brahmin by birth, I had

always prayed to God at the top of my voice, considering him deaf. This time,

the prayers were centred on just one thing.

"God, please let it be IIT, please let it be IIT."

Sadly, IIT and IERT sounded alike to God and in this confusion, he gifted

me IERT. It seemed as though God used BSNL operator services, which go

down during the rainy seasons, and with the sounds of thunder around him,

God heard IERT instead of IIT.

And so I landed up at IERT and finally realized that it was what I wanted.

Nevertheless, I was not disheartened and accepted the same with love and

respect. I was full of respect because when all the colleges had shut their

doors, only IERT had accepted me.

August 2003

IERT (Institute of Engineering and Rural

Technology)

Allahabad

I joined the IERT hostel on the second day of college and my father and I both

received a warm welcome from the hostel warden at the reception.

"Welcome to one of the finest engineering colleges in the country," he

said with a sense of pride and achievement.

I looked at my father; his chest had swelled with pride at the warden's

warm welcome. My father and Sachin Tendulkar suffered from a similar

disease: the 'nervous nineties'. But in my father's case, it was his weight that

was always swinging between ninety and ninety-nine kilos. He certainly

scored a century then as he watched his son entering the Rural Technology

Institute. I was the first in the Pandey family to study engineering. My father

had another reason to be happy. Finally, I had got admission into a college,

which would mean an end to money grubbing by coaching institutes.

"Sir, is ragging a big problem for freshers?" my father asked the warden,

concerned.

"Pandeyji, you don't have to worry as the Supreme Court has declared

ragging as a criminal offence."

The manner in which he said this seemed to indicate that he was

personally in touch with the Supreme Court judge who gave the verdict.

"Are the seniors staying in the same campus?" Papa asked in the same

concerned tone.

"Yes, but their building is a different one," the warden answered.

After sometime, when Papa had settled me into my hostel room, I sensed

one of his 'gyaan sessions' was about to start.

"Sonu, you have to study seriously. You are at a very crucial juncture of

life, as you have to handle everything by yourself from now onwards. No

cigarettes, no alcohol, no bad company, and no girlfriends! We belong to a

very middle class family, and you are our only hope."

He sighed.

Sonu is my nickname. I was surprised by my father's remarks. He had

never had an opportunity to study at a professional institute. His words made

me feel emotional but at the same time I felt overburdened by my family sins.

Suddenly, I didn't know why my hopeless family was searching for hope

through me.

"Ok Papa," I nodded, although I knew I would not follow any of his

instructions. But I said this to stop him from repeating his old refrain. That

day however, he was unstoppable.

"Now all the family glory is in your hands and lastly…" I felt relieved on

hearing the word 'lastly' from him, 'Remember, beta, you are my brave son."

With those inspiring words, he left for Rihand Nager.

His last words bewildered me. Why would he call me his brave son?

❖

That evening at around eleven, I entered the common room to find many new

faces. I met Arvind.

"Hi I'm Arvind Chaubey, computer science. I'm from Rihand."

"Hello buddy, I am Ajay. In electronics, from Rihand Nagar, NTPC

colony," I replied.

Arvind frowned, "Just Ajay?"

"Oh it's Ajay Pandey."

In a place like Allahabad, surnames matter a lot. People may forget your

first name, but not your surname. We both exchanged a half hug, or to be

more precise, a manly hug. The sense of belonging to the same place seemed

to have brought us closer instantly.

Before I go on, let me introduce all my hostel friends since their names

will come up time and again:

Arvind Chaubey: We both came from the same town. He was a very simple,

but often irrational man. Love and girls were all Greek to him. He was heavy

set and we thought of him as a clone of Salman Khan.

Gaurav Singh: My roommate. He was cheerful, talkative, confident and

confused at the same time. No one dared to talk to him as it meant only

listening for the other side.

Dipendra Singh: I hate to say it but, he had been my junior at take to next line

St Joseph's School and he was a master at analyzing girls. I can't even bear to

mention the kind of things he would find out about them, things Google itself

would fail at. He was a master at talking to girls with no hesitation.

Sometimes, I felt he might have committed suicide if IERT was a 'boys only'

institute. He was almost six feet tall, thin, smart and, yes, handsome, too.

Because of him, I realized that looks matter a lot.

Sorry friends, but that is my description of you guys. If any of you are going

to file a case against me, please remember: all the above characters are

fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely

coincidental. Now I'm free to tear your undergarments, but you know the

truth – I love you all.

At 11:30 p.m., I was lying in my boxers and was about to fall off to

sleep. Suddenly, a group of half a dozen gregarious men started pounding

heavily on every door, shouting like military men.

"Everyone assemble in the corridors! Move! Now!"

The shouting was very scary, but seeing everyone moving towards the

corridor, I followed. We stood lining the walls of the corridor while the

seniors stayed in the middle. They seemed like dacoits and we shivered like

poor villagers.

"Third button! No eye contact!" one senior shouted at me. I hung my

head like a war prisone

The introduction had a set pattern: full name, branch, and place of origin.

We did this in a flash. Then one senior shouted in a horrible voice.

"Lights off," he instructed one of his friends. I was a bit at ease and I

raised my head a little, but it was just the calm before the storm.

"Remove all your clothes," one senior shouted.

Everyone, including Gaurav, took off their clothes. I could make out their

nude bodies even in the dim light. I could have never imagined such a sight

even in my wildest dreams. Now I understood why my father had called me

his brave son.

They switched the lights back on. Manav Bahadur and I were not a part

of the exhibition, yet. We were still wearing our boxers since we had joined

on the second day of the ragging.

"Do you need a special invitation?" one senior shouted at Manav.

"It is not possible, sir," Manav said.

Five seniors jumped on him and forcefully took off his boxers. They

started swinging his boxers in the air with pride, their laughter echoed in the

corridors and our ears. A rape scene from an eighties Hindi movie flashed

across my mind. By the time they had turned to me, I had taken off my boxers

and was standing nude, hiding my family jewels with my palms.

Manav's dark ass had also joined the group of nude freshers. I mentally

pleaded with all the known gods, hoping at least one would listen. My turn, I

thought. I was once again reminded of my father's words, our family glory is

in your hands.

I thought to myself, I don't know about the family, but yes, my glory is in

my hands.

"Give your introduction again!" a senior shouted.

"Ajay Pandey, Electronics from…" I was interrupted.

"Landey, he is also a Pandey. Handle him," the senior said while looking

at one of the half dozen seniors. A creature with dark brown eyes and dozens

of pimples on his face approached me. I had guessed his name was also

Pandey. I was in a state of shock. What if tomorrow my classmates start

calling me Landey?

While I was busy mulling over Pandey versus Landey, he neared me and

started touching my chest. As his fingers inched towards my glory, I pleaded

Oh God, please don't let him be gay! And please have mercy! Hope he

belongs to the same caste.

"Please, Pandey sir," I begged. Thankfully the Pandey saga worked and

he released me.

One senior shouted, "Juniors raise your hands." We obeyed; now our

glory was visible to everyone.

I learnt a very important fact that day: one's glory is inversely

proportional to one's build.

"Juniors, you have to scream in unison, 'Hammam me sabhi nange hain.

We were all nude.'"

I was puzzled but consulted with Gaurav who was standing very close to

me. "What is 'Hammam'? God?" I whispered.

"Shhh! 'Hammam' means bathroom," he whispered back.

I felt humiliated again, but we shouted, with our glory hanging and our

hands in the air.

"Hammam main sabhi nange hain."

It felt like we were provoking the enemy.

"Listen juniors. Yesterday, we explained the rules and today we are

adding some more. No one is allowed to close their room doors before 2.00

a.m. Till then, you have to wear formal shirts and pants. No casuals are

allowed. Whenever any senior calls you, you have to be as quick as a tiger

and form a queue."

What crazy people! First they want us to behave like tigers and then like

sheep, I thought to myself.

"Today we're leaving you a bit early because tomorrow you have to

report thirty minutes earlier for class at 8:30 a.m. You have to grab a seat right

behind the girl you like the most. She'll be your 'maal' for the future and the

rest of the hostellers will help you. If there is any confusion or conflict of

interest, bring it to our notice and we'll resolve the same. Understand punks,

day scholars should not have access to any maal, they should belong to the

hostellers."

We smiled mischievously. Our nude state only the word 'maal' could

make us smile in such a terrible state.

"Any doubt, juniors?" one senior questioned.

"When will the ragging end?" Manav asked.

A senior came to Manav and caught his neck shouting, "This is ragging?

You think this is ragging?"

"Explain to him why this is not ragging!"

The seniors pulled at Gaurav, but he remained silent.

"Listen, juniors, this is not ragging! It is training! We're training you to

make you stronger and smarter, and the training will end after the freshers'

party."

His philosophy went over our heads. I was about to faint.

"Dress fast and start using deodorants," the same senior screamed,

covering his nostrils. "You guys are really rustic. Please make sure that you

are clean shaven from now on," he added, "including your faces."

❖

Gaurav and I both settled into our room. I checked my watch; it was 1.00 a.m.

"This is early? Are they idiots?" I cried in frustration.

"What happened?"

"It's one o'clock at night and this is early for them! Moreover, we have to

reach before nine tomorrow and choose a 'maal'! Is this what we have come

here for?" I shouted but Gaurav kept silent.

He ignored my questions and sank into his bed.

I closed my eyes and lay on my own bed, missing my school days and

school crush, Ragini. Her short, cute hairstyle and smiling face were running

through my mind. But when you are going through a tough time, even your

roommate will add salt to your wounds. Gaurav jumped on to my bed.

"What happened?" I asked, scared, wondering if he was also interested in

taking my glory away from me.

"Yaar, Manav's nude, black ass is flashing in front of my eyes."

"So?"

"So, I can't sleep. Please help me lighten up with a joke, so that a bit of

today's humiliation can be forgotten."

Now I understood why a talkative person like him was silent. It was

damned Manav's black ass!

"You want me to crack a joke at one at night?" I asked in frustration.

He nodded, and said "Please."

I thought for seconds and said, "You know the biggest joke at IERT?

Ragging is a criminal offence." We laughed.