The Rituals

The Rituals:

You cannot sleep during the study hours.

That was an unspoken rule in Pala House. At night it was until 10. But if it’s a holiday, naturally a hard working boy (like me…) may prefer to have a nice small nap, amidst the back breaking labor (to the eyes, of course). And the timings maybe just after having breakfast or lunch. Those are the times when Manjesh sir is either busy eating or gone elsewhere.

But our peaceful retreat is often disrupted by the evil sleep buster, Biji sir. He would come round anytime, whenever he feels a bit exhausted. After all, 80 students have sacrificed themselves for the sake of his entertainment na…

“Ravile irunnuranguano niyokke. Enitte enitte. Poyi purathu ninnu padikke.”

When our half opened eyes gaze at him, he would try hard to suppress a laugh.

Now am standing in front of the main entrance of Pala house. The outstanding personality of the hour. I am not alone. Usually I may be carrying my heavy NCERT textbook or any question bank. And I may be witnessing many a laughs from other inmates. From ground floor, from first floor and from my own top floor. I still remember Ranjan with his 32-toothed grin pointing his nasty finger at me. I would mutter to myself.

Don’t worry assholes. Laugh when you can. Next turn would be yours.

But being there is a kind of fun actually. Once Biji sir is back in his den, I can just go around anywhere in the ground floor. I mostly tour to Gohul’s and Praveen’s room. Then to Nikhil’s room. There mostly he must be scratching his head with a piece of paper in hand (supposedly his lecture notes). Ambu, Amod and Sen must be roaming in the courtyard. Of course they are the ones you should be afraid of. Like any other savage primate, when taunted, they will throw stones at you. Even at Balu in the top floor study room, they threw their stones at. Amod had a fairly good aim. So whenever there is a showdown in the making I may nicely slip off the scene and let them be on their own. I may quietly go into Hari’s room. He must have got some of his mixture or chips or biscuit left.

Munching in the snacks in my hand I make my way to my former position, where I was destined (I mean by Biji sir) to be and study. Of course everything other than study occurs.

There is also an interesting routine we practice in Pala house. Its much like taking a break. We may take some clothes (Oru perinenthelm…), soak I in water and take them to the terrace.

Fact File: The Terrace:

Pala house had a terrace so splendid that it almost always looked like it is kissing the skies. A long deep wet kiss. There was a constant breeze which may mesmerize anybody who enjoys it for a minute. Despite having some unnamed underpants hung from one of the line near one end, it was great scenery looking from there. The steeples of the new church of St. Jude, Kizhathadiyoor, was visible among the trees as a white cone fallen from the skies.

It was the favorite spot for late night gatherings. After everybody’s asleep we used to stand over the sides of the terrace and pee down on to the sides of the building (usually in the morning somebody would report an episode of a light drizzle..:D)

Its beauty increased at night, when the stars shimmered overhead. I still remember lying there at night with Hari narrating his life’s story. You feel like the stars are hearing you too. And that they are twinkling in response to what you are saying. Soon I will narrate that wonderful night. That was the only night I ever saw a halo, a full circular halo, around the moon (Boy that was worth a watch).

We also got enough peace of mind sitting there and studying. So in every way the terrace was a small time paradise.

Some nights were a bit busier than others. There won’t be enough people around the TV during the dinner. Guys would be talking less and rush back to the hostel after quickly finishing the meal. Those were the days which usually fell around the end of every week. Those were the days when you can find more people in front of Manjesh sir’s room than in front of the coin Pay phone (Usually the most popular place inside Pala house, for every one among us felt it necessary to inform our parents that “mum, dad. I am still alive”)

Those were the days when you have to ask him permission to go home. And that in this case my friend, is harder than getting a parole.

I myself don’t go well with my family that they celebrate every day of the year I was away. But that wasn’t the case with others. Everybody wanted to go some day or the other. Some people made it once in a week. For going home, you got to sing in a register. And overlooking this register would be the eagle eyes of Manjesh sir. When in the queue everybody thinks of the most heart wrenching reason to go home. But once in front of him, it’s not the same. Many of those poor souls walk out of there with sunken eyes and cursing hearts (I guess it’s because of their curse that Manjesh sir got married the very next year).

But those who do make it, comes out victoriously waving the victory fingers, as if they just conquered mount ‘Manjeverest’, the hardest mountain made out of flesh and blood.

When they are away, it’s like being given a shot of some soporiferous medicine. You sleep through the whole weekend. During my Reference days, I go to the college and sleep it out there. Why testing the tolerance level of other inmates, right?

Always incomplete, it was, without having everybody around. When Balu and Rahul goes home, the whole top floor goes into hibernation. Without any one among us, the life in Pala house was a misery. We were what you call, one single organism. And these days when there isn’t any restriction to what to do and what not to do, life seems drab. That one year despite all those pressure and tension, was worth living.

Nights in Pala House

Hari paranju njan englishil ezhuthunnath karanam feel porenne. I am trying to incorporate some demonic Malayalam in between. Spare me brothers…

So this piece of crap is dedicated to my fellow crapper…..

The Night at the Pala House: (As in ‘the Night at the Museum’)

Each night at Pala house was one of its kind. The fun was never ending. Precisely at 7:30 we would get orders to ceasefire and go back to our rooms. And the crowd in the courtyard would dissolve like morning dew (Or our wardens were made to believe so.). The first step of a deliberate plan is to see what Manjesh sir is up to.  In our study room, there are two benches located at the two ends of the room. So we would sit face to face with somewhat 5 feet in between the benches. Any life form transiting through the room would pass right through the middle of the room, in front of us.

My usual position would be near the window (It was one hell of a window, by the way). There is a 5 inch space between the wall and the window. I will get stuffed into this place in a way that the entire study room comes under my field of vision. Balu would have been seated exact opposite to my position. Nidarsan used to come by our side only after 8 or so. Mathew would be present round the clock, unless or otherwise he had some fight with any of us, which was the usual scenario (To see Mathew leaving the room, cursing us was worth a site. I now think that, his innocence was what we always put to test). Njanum...

Those were the days when our hostel owner Joy had deliberate plans to siphon in more money from current bill (10 rupees per unit. What is this??? Cucumber city???). My first two current bills were approximately 50 rupees, I guess. And such a huge bill can even make Vijay Mallaya weep. So I turned off the fan in my room. And the light too. Without light and fan, how can I study sitting inside my room?

There is a fan and a tube light in the study room. Verenthu venam? So I quickly changed my shelter from my room to study room. Under that fan and tube light I spent time 24*7. I was the scum that the study room never got rid of. Instead of using my fan and paying foolishly to that ruthless hostel owner, I made him pay something extra. Study room was my second home to be precise (only thing that did go wrong was, that I made study room like hell for others).

Back to the “story: life” (3:1 hehe).  Manjesh sir would go out on7:45, to our canteen. A very brief time to celebrate. As soon as Manjesh sir’s shadow passed the wall, we all rise from our positions and stretch ourselves a bit. Stretchy stretchy njn Nidarsante room vare ethm. Directly opposite his room was the room of Kesavan. Next to Kesavan’s room was a small space in between the walls (There were other places where there were spaces in between wall.  Only we and the god knew what all we used to hide in those crevices. I mean, necessity is the mother of invention right??). Through that, we could make out our hostel wardens dining inside Royees canteen.  

The stage: study room.

The actors: Balu, Nidarsan, Mohammed, Rahul and myself…

The Play: Pala Charitham 3aam khandam

The audience: Amal, Jassim, Chandu and Sibi

And every moment was history. We played cricket there (Plastic bottle became bats and weekly test question papers became balls). We debated on anything below the sky about which we didn’t have even the slightest idea. Katrina Kaif’s figure and Hrithik Roshan’s vigor and Sehwag’s power, almost everything was a topic for discussion. We chorified and therified each and everyone present in the room. We gossiped about all those hot cargoes back there at Brilliant. We played nasty pranks on every padipist in our floor. We danced and yelled like wolves and fooled all around there. But one rule was prevailing although nobody needed any prior mentioning. All this should be over in 15 minutes.

If Manjesh sir ever found out what the hell was going on the top floor he would have put our heads under the guillotine. But thanks to the eye of third floor (Ahem ahem… none other than the humble narrator), nobody got caught. I would have my eyes fixed on manjesh sir’s whereabouts as I watch him like an eagle circling over its prey (If he ever come to read this blog, I want to certify that my death is not accidental).

But then, even the best times got to end someday. That day was not very far. I once got caught spying on Manjesh sir. It so happened that I was sitting in the corner with my shoulder at the edge of the window. Enik cherinju nokkiyal Manjesh sirnte room kanam. So on a particular night the sound was a bit over the cut off. So he came out and was standing outside his room surveying all three study rooms (It seems like the whole world has gone mute when Manjesh sir was around). I was leaning forward onto my shoulder and was keenly watching him. I thought he couldn’t see me through the corner of the window. But alas, there was he looking right into my eye and giving out a scary nod. Oru 5 minutes inakam Manjesh sir top floor study roomil ethy. The rest you know, na. I was suspended from study room for 1 long week. God, it was awful. But then, for that week my rank was somewhat ok (the current bill was not ok). So I begged him to sit and study in the study room. The 3 feet tall lean lion agreed.

Like Arnie announces in Terminator, “I am back”, I hit the study room. And we made our timings to extend after the sleeping hours. Balu and Rahul and Sibi would be awake long after our terror warden dozes. We will put off the lights in the study room and gather on the floor. The discussions will continue ad infinitum. And even if the sound goes a bit high, nobody cares. I would be standing guard of the place so as to remind other amigos of any threat.

Balu, the man from Ranni. I kinda worshipped that jock. He was masculine, bright and so much full of energy; nearly every other life was lit up by his presence. Everybody was his friend. Our late night talks were all concentrated on his life experiences (Look at us god, we have not even touched 20, yet we had experiences worth narrating, that’s what we call generation gap). There were stories about his place, Ranni, stories about his schooling, his friends and all those beauties whom he was after (He presently studies in AFMC, a batch with only 4 girls. And that rotten rascal has hooked up with one among four…).

And there was Nidarsan, the guy from Kottayam, as lean as a pencil and as happy as a king, he was.  this guy, was a walking talking amusement park. Always cracking jokes and always getting self goals. At nights he too had those tear dropping tragic loves stories to narrate. How his dad would always back him up and used to train him at the Kottayam stadium, for making him an athlete. His words always had a special flavor of being at home.

Coming to Sibi, another night talker, the quiet one I may say. Sibi was the hardest working guy in the top floor. Yet his ranks were never really bright. We say god is fair. But in his case, if you ask me, god was being a son of a bitch. Never giving him what he deserved. At night when he would finally exit the room, he would be having his old cricket matches and school fables to narrate to us. Balu , Rahul and Sibi were in the same school after 10^th. So they know quite a lot about each other. so it was always fun to hear them narrating each other’s thepp stories and poking each other.

Sometimes we would have guests also. Mostly it would be Hari, from ground floor. But his expeditions would rather be risky, during the wakey wakey hours of Manjesh sir. And once he got screwed up too. hope he mite be narrating that story for you some day…

I guess the midnight hour is close at hand. So we would disperse to our rooms, bidding each other a ‘good night’ or a ‘Screw you’. For a second the lights in our rooms would flash and then go out. I mean perfect darkness. I would have my windows opened so as to let in some fresh air (and a lot of mosquitoes too). It helps me save my current bill by not turning my killer fan on.

As I begin to doze, my righteous conscience would ask me.

“Eda pulle, ni innu vallom padicho??”

And I would answer it back. “Mindathiri. Entrance exam naale ravile onnum allalo. Pathukke padichalum mathy”