Tribute to our Sankar

My stint with RIT started on a Sunday evening when my father dropped me in a “hostel”; a house named Kochuvadakekkara (KV). I had first  joined Adoor engg college and got transferred to RIT after two months as per the options I indicated at the time of interview.

I was greeted by an Ammachie and Achayan (owners of the said ‘house-de-hostel’) and other guy named Anwar, a budding civil engineering student of S1S2, who came from the northern side of Kerala. I was told that there were few other house mates, who had gone their native place on the weekend not in the spirit of seeing their parents but to evade the grooming sessions called ‘ragging’.

I was trying to get acquainted with the new surroundings and gather more information from Anwar on the ragging sessions in RIT.  Just then the door bell sounded and we moved to the foyer to open the door thinking that it could be one of our house mates on their return from home. When I opened the door, I saw a tall, handsome guy with a sports bag on his shoulders. Along with him was his father, a well built, tall personality, seemed like a politician with a high degree of command. Also with him was his mother, a sweet and caring lady carrying a bag probably the luggage of this guy.

Yes a new entrant to our house! We took them to our landlord. His name was Sankar S, Mechanical Engineering, from the capital of our state, Thiruvananthapuram. Just before the parents left, his mother warned him of bad friend circles and advised not to indulge into any bad habits such as drinking, smoking etc. She also advised me and Anwar that since we are away from home there are chances that we may fall into such traps. When Sankar went to see them off to the Nedunkuzhy bus stop, I could see an obedient guy, walking just behind his mother nodding to everything his mother said. Yes Sankar could be a ‘Moms baby’, I thought. His looks told me the same too.

After some time Shankar came back saying “Machu, you got a matchbox?”

I could see a white long cigarette on his lips. We dropped our jaw in gape. Shankar was smiling and searching for a matchbox inside the kitchen and other rooms. As he was lighting the cigarette, there came the next question.

“What a place is this? How can I treat my friends here?”

“What happened?” Anwar asked in an innocent and surprised voice

“No, my friends from Thiruvananthapuram wouldn’t like this place. Machu, how can I invite my friends to stay in this place”? Shankar asked.

“Do friends come so often, that too from TVM?” Anwar couldn't see the point.

“Yes. You know, I am a party guy and cannot leave without them”. Hearing this reply I felt I was from another world. As for me, I couldn't think any of my friends from my native place that was closer to Kottayam than TVM would come to party with me at this place, not even once in a year.

“Forget about boys, what about the girls..!! They are ready to come here for a two day bash once I got a house to stay in” Sankar said.

Anwar stood silent, mouth wide open.

Did I forget to tell that Sankar resembled a chocolate hero in Bollywood may be like Fardeen khan!! Yes, for him girlfriends cannot be just a mirage like it was to us. I was somewhat thrilled with the joy of staying with him especially when girls quite often pay visits and hang around for parties. But for Anwar, it was something dreadful, for he was sure such a guy who will attract seniors and cause a miserable life. Two days after, Sankar left KV to stay in ‘White house’ another ‘house-de-hostel’ more tidy and neat than KV, near Nedunkuzhy and later to ‘Wall house” another ‘house-de-hostel’ hundred times messier and lousier than KV.

But there were no girls and not even boys,  as I imagined in many of my initial nights in KV. Not even a single party like what he claimed on his first day!

That was Sankar.

A guy after joining Whitehouse was caught by locals alleged of using a binocular (you know for what) and became well known among locals.

A guy who stood with his spine straight and declared that he will not be an SFI, inviting attention of all seniors who were in SFI that time.

Who got admired by the girls of our batch, on account of a mockfight and other such activities in class.

Who smilingly admitted to the principal that he tried to ‘copy’ for the series test and accepted a suspension with happy face becoming a hero for his batchmates.

Courageous enough to go up and talk to any girls (no matter junior or senior), who comes in his way.

The first one in RIT to use a cellphone

The only one in our class who enjoyed the ‘present’ by living each moment in its full joy.

One guy who was always happy.

One guy who could chat up any person and impress them, and leave a pleasant awe about himself - of course who often referred to himself as Awesome Sanker.

Sankar left us 11 years ago this day: 06 Sept 2001.

MAY HIS SOUL REST IN PEACE

A Fight

It was just a couple of months into our long RIT journey. We still were not acquainted with every body in class. One of my first friends was Sankar, because we traveled together from Trivandrum. There were other guys from Trivandrum, like Pothen, Pichathi and Poocha but they had to sit through the long journey listening to Oolan's 'Quarters' stories and vegudu was always getting ragged by mostly our batch mates and girls.

One day I and Sankar was walking to college and saw a couple of our friends trying to fight, like its done in films. One person was swinging his hand a mile away from the other persons face and the other would sway his head in the direction of the hand and cry out. This was supposed to look like a real hit to the face and I cant explain their facial expressions as they were repeatedly acting out the oldest trick in films. We walked on and saw a second group doing that. By the time we reached our block we saw many such groups. Every body was busy practicing the trick, in class, in front of the labs and a select few, even in front of the electrical class to impress the girls. We went to the nearest group and asked what this was all about. Somebody told us about how Oolan and one of his senior friends did this trick during freshers day and fooled every body. He told me that oolan is still going around teaching his newest trick from 'Quarters'.

On our way to class Sankar told me “ Da we will show them what a real fight is like. Its time we stop Oolan's Jada”. When we reached our class there was about 10 or 15 studious members of our class and Makru. Sankar looked at me and said “Lets start”.I pushed him on to the front desk were Makru was sitting. He fell over the desk. Every body was startled with the sound. Makru shouted and ran back. Sanker got up, jumped over the desk and pushed me over the teachers chair. I picked up the chair and threw it at him, but made sure that it fell far away from him. I threw him on the black board and it broke off from one side. Foul language and threats were exchanged all through out. In about 10 minutes a good crowd had gathered around the class, almost all the classroom furniture was in disarray, the black board was broken and Makru was crying. I was trying to hit him with a broken piece of furniture. He got hold of it and whispered to me “Da I think its enough, its better we leave now, professors may come soon”. I pushed him to the floor and stormed out of the classroom. Later we met up at Hobnob and laughed almost for an hour. We were happy that we fooled every body and this time it was better than oolans filmy trick.

The next day I got ready, caught the college bus and went straight to the hostel. (classes were obviously not the first in my agenda) . As soon as the I entered the hostel, a couple of 8^th sem Mech's caught hold of me and started asking me about the previous day's fight. I told them all the lies I could make up within that short period. Then as I was walking into a room, some other guys came to me and introduced themselves as Jesus youth members. They started advicing me on the importance of controlling my anger. I was fed up of all this and went to Hobnob for a cigarette. A couple of second year Mech students was there. They were trying to convince me that I should join Solidarity party and they needed people like me to take on SFI in the campus.

The excitement of the previous day had worn off and I was confused. I was sitting there alone and still smoking when Sanker walked in. He seemed happy and excited. He asked me how my day went and I replied that I was getting fed up with all the advices and we wont even have the fun of fooling any body now, since nobody is going to believe that it was a joke. and I asked him why he was so happy. He told me “ If advices come from the right places you can actually enjoy it”. He continued “ You should learn to cash in on opportunities. You are a fool, you went to the men's hostel after such a show and what more did you expect. I asked him “ where were you? He said “ I took a couple of rounds by the electrical class and the advices I got, was from those beauties. I am already friends with some of them . He continued “ OK I am leaving, have to meet ----- near LH. I hid my disappointment and said “ Ok good for you”. On the way out he said “ Da I am planning to continue the counseling sessions for a couple of days more, so we’ll not let anybody see us together for the time being. 'Pinne' u don’t have to get disappointed. Even if you had come to college today you wouldin't have got as much attention as I did”. I asked “ Why” and he replied “ninakku ente athrem Soundaryam illallo”. I wanted to kick his ass, this time for real, but by the time I got up, he was half way down the road to LH.

Meeting with a Junior

Road in front of MH leading to canteen and mech workshop was the one of the most scared pathway for us when we were in S1S2. There were numerous occasions when loud calls for “Attention”, “Fire” etc were heard from MH and we had to stand in attention and use our mini drafter as AK 47 guns to fire towards the mens hostel. Sight of MH was frightening and we never had a neat look of MH till we had our first year university exams.

Year 2000 witnessed some of the beautiful girls join RIT. Lured by this fact I and Jerry went to Civil block to see some of the girls on their first day at RIT. By the time we reached Civil block, it was lunch time and the classes were stopped for lunch. There were no classes for seniors and we were the only seniors in Civil block at that time. While we stood near the steps, somebody put his hand on Jerry’s shoulder and asked “Ethu Brancha...” It was a fresher moderately built, taller than both of us. I could see Jerry was about to explode on him.

Suddenly I intervened and said “Mechanical. Nammal interview inu kandayirunnu ormayille…?”

Jerry understood my intentions and he told “Njyan Jery… Jery Panalell. Thaan Ethu Brancha..?”

“Ohh !! Interview inu kandayirunno? enikku ormayilla.. Ente peru Nishad. Electronics and Communication Engineering. Jyoli kiitan ippol scope ithinaanu”. Fresher introduced himself.

“Alla Mechanicalum athra purakottalla. Athu potte entha peru?” Fresher was eager to meet us.

“Joseph Alex” I tried to copy the mannerism of Mamootty in the movie King as I told this name.

“Evida Veedu”

“Pampadiyil” Jerry answered.

“Randu perum?” Fresher inquired.

“Alla ente veedu pangada -ill aanu. Ee College inte backil aayittu varum”. I told him. There was a toddy shop in Pangada and we used to refer pangada shaap as our ‘tharavaadu’.

“Oh appol ningal Locals aanalle..? Ethayalum ragging ine pedikendallo..!”

“Hey ivide bhayangara ragging aanu ennanu kettathu. Localsineyum veruthe vidilla.” Jerry told

“Enthonnu? Nammal strong ayittu ninnal mathi. Ente tharvadu Kottayathanu. Venamenkil njyan aale irakkum.!. Nammal orumichu ninnal seniorsinu nammale onnum cheyyan pattilla.” He seemed confident in his words.

“Ningal locals support cheyyanam. Nammukku ella Juniors inum orumichu nadakkanam. Appol seniors onnum cheyyilla” Fresher chocked out the strategy.

“Njyan lead cheyyam. Enikku ivare onnum pedi illa” Fresher informed his readiness to be the leader.

“Athupotte evide poya lunch kazhikunne” I asked.

“Ningal alle locals.. ningalku ivide okke ariyamallo. Nedunkuzhiyil onnum nalla hotels illa” Fresher said.

“Ivide thazhe oru nalla sthalam undu. Homely food aanu. Angottu pokaam” Jery told.

We started walking towards the hostel. Fresher told us how he tackled his seniors in SN College where he joined for BSc last year. We really felt impressed. Slowly we came near MH

“Ithu MH alle” fresher inquired.

“Athey, nammukku athinte sideiloode pokaam” Jery told.

“Alla athu veno? Senors aarenkilum nammale kandalo?” fresher seemed nervous.

“Athinentha, ente veedu athinte purakilanu. Pedikenda”. I tried to console him.

After some time we reached in front of MH. Fresher seemed slow in walking. We pulled him towards the MH.

“Nammakku sideiloode pokaam. Nere poyal MH il ethum.” Fresher told

“MH ilekku poyale alle food kittuu” I told him

Fresher’s face became pale. He realized that we were seniors and the saddest part was that he was now in front of MH.

“MH ile food vendenkil nammuku Thampi chettante kadayil pokaam. Pakshe nee cash kodukkanam.” Jery put across an option.

Thus he became the first one of his batch to treat his seniors. Needless to say, we both had a superb lunch with fish fry and beef curry discussing his other heroic deeds in SN College..

First meeting with the mother of machines

May I have the single honour, double pleasure, triple satisfaction with multiple ejaculation in knowing your good, great, gracious name sir? Please…

Every fresher at that time would have written this imposition hundreds of time. This was how we should ask the name of a senior, if permitted to ask. Along with this, there were Newtons laws numbering till 10 and certain ‘Slogams’ which had to be byhearted to get exempted from the ragging sessions.

One day myself and Kuttachan were going to the society store operating in the ground floor of admin block for buying pencils. As we reached near the store, we were caught by a few seniors. Upon knowing that 4 seniors in that group were from Mech department Kuttachan gave each of them a royal “Mech Salute”. Seeing what my partner did, I too jumped to the maximum height possible and when reached the highest point, used my left hand to hold my balls and gave them a Royal salute with my right hand, same way Kuttachan did, exactly how a Mech Salute is to be delivered. Giving four such salutes took away all the energy I had.

Seeing our obedience, the seniors asked us to go. When we were about to move, someone from the group asked us politely whether we could buy a thing for him from the store.

“What do you want sir?” Kuttachan asked

“Buy one lathe for me”. My mouth felt dry as the senior told this. How much will this instrument cost?

A drafter cost approx 200 Rs. Will this instrument cost more than that..? I looked at kuttachen. He too seemed perplexed. We have not heard about this instrument yet. We were asked to bring scales, drafter, pencils of various grades (H, 2H, HB and B) big set of compass and A3 size papers for the drawing classes. Now comes lathe. We thought that this lathe is a big brother of the drafter and should be used in our higher semesters.

“Take this and don’t forget to give the balance 5 Rs when you bring the lathe.” Saying this, the senior took a 20 Rs note from his pocket and handed over to us. Thank god.. we sighed a relief. “What a good senior..!! He is ready to pay for the instrument. Thank god, the Mech salute really worked”. We thought ourselves.

Store was crowded that day. I asked in my loud voice “Chetta, oru lathe tha”. Everybody in the store gave us a perplexed look. Some started laughing.

“Ividilla, mech workshopil poye chodikku...” answered the store keeper.

“Stock theernu poyathano chetta..?” Kuttachan was eager to know. Everybody in the store laughed. We didnt understand anything. We decided to reach the mech workshop asap. The seniors were not seen when we came out of the store. We marched straight to the mech workshop.

“Eda avide vere store undo..? avide stock undakumo..?” Kuttachan was full of doubts.

We reached Mech workshop. Seeing a senior I asked him “Sir, ividuthe store evideya?”

“Enthina” his reply was fast

“Oru lathe venam”

“Aarka”

“Oru senior ina” Saying this I took the 20 Rs note from my pocket.

“Ethu type lathe venam?” such a question was not expected from him.

“4 jaw veno atho 3 jaw ullathu mathiyo?” he asked. We stood puzzled. Finally we decided to go back to the senior and ask him which type he wanted. We bunked the next hour and after roaming around the campus for 30 minutes we found him and asked which one he need.

“3 jaw is enough. Get me the lathe in another 10 min. If you are late, bring the lathe to my hostel, Mathathil buildings in 8^th mile after 8 pm.” This time his sound was rude. Going to his room at 8 pm was beyond imagination.

“It’s dreadful to go to a senior’s room at 8 pm.” Kuttachen said. I too thought the same. We ran towards the workshop and saw the senior there.

“Sir, please show us to the store. He want 3 jaw type lathe”. Kuttachen requested. I stood beside with the 20 Rs in my hand.

“Self centered or independent?”. he asked.

I felt my head spinning. Going back to the senior without the lathe will be fatal.

Seeing our desperate looks the senior said. “Self centered will be enough for him”. We felt relaxed. We felt a deep sense of gratitude for this senior.

“Thankyou Sir” Kuttachen expressed his gratitude.

“Sir where is the store” I asked.

“Go inside and take it. These are the lathes”. Saying this he walked away.

We entered the workshop and looked in the direction he showed. Mighty machines were fixed on the floor.

Our first meeting with the mother of machines.

Flirtoragg

Ekalavya is a fascinating character in Mahabharatha who was asked to cripple himself by Drona for embarking self-study to learn the art of archery in the presence of a clay image of Drona. Unruffled by the demand and with due humility, he cut his right thumb and placed at the feet of Drona as a 'Gurudakshina' thus sacrificing the immense success he could have achieved as a skillful archer.

Those who possess status symbols had gained a definite edge over the others in college, like the one in our class who owned a bike. From the very first day, he and his friend came to campus together in bike and we called them 'Biker Boys'. They were welcomed by unruly political scenario of RIT campus and it took two years to settled into their grooves.

Beautiful fresher girls were at the receiving end of their newly found freedom. It was only an extension of their flirting which had dated back to first year and we named it 'flirtoragg', the combination of flirting and ragging. The girls from our batch had managed to escape the flirting with some lame excuses, but freshers were forced to suffer the 'kathi'. The general perception among others was that eventually the girls will complain to HOD or principal. Our college had strict rules against ragging and we waited for something disastrous to happen.

Contrary to our expectations, they fared well in flirtoragg and there were no complaints. Many credited that to their friendly mannerisms and good looks. Their popularity grew manifold. Fellow students looked up to them in awe and referred them as masters of flirtoragg. I was one among them.

I had tried my hand in flirtoragg with most of the sessions ending either with the girl crying or I getting frustrated. These unfortunate results prompted me to learn the art of flirtoragg from the masters. That day I finished my lunch and went to first year classes. I saw the Biker Boys standing in the corridor and I placed myself on their side. They were least bothered by my presence and got into their usual business. As a bunch of fresher girls passed by, they called the gorgeous one. I truly admired that choice.

The first question "Did you finish your lunch?".

The girl was tensed and answered "Yes".

Next question "What was special for lunch"?

She started describing the lunch in detail. Biker boys listened carefully encouraging her to continue. Slowly her apprehension made way for candor and they were into flirtoragg in full flow.

"Brilliant!". I told myself.

After 15minutes long session, biker boys finished the conversation with the punch line "It was so nice to know you more". I could see the girl smiling all the way back. That's the way to execute a successful flirtoragg. As I turned to leave the scene, I saw another girl. Her hair hung in delicate curls around her white shoulders. She was talking to other girls and the dimple in her face made her smile so cute. The moment I saw her there was a rumbling in my chest and mouth was as dry as a desert. She really fit into my particular favourite type of girl.

She was the next target of biker boys. In my enthusiasm to see her and know more about her, I went close to biker boys and stood there.

As usual they started: "Where your father is working?"

"He is in gulf", she answered

"Mother?" enquired one of the Biker Boys .

"She is in Trivandrum".

The girl was getting comfortable. I started to feel left out and in an impulse to join the party I asked "How could it work?"

Biker boys were surprised by that question and burst into laughter. The girl was taken aback and started crying. Before I could explain my innocence, a hand fell on my shoulder. I turned around and stunned to see our HOD standing there.

He took us to his office room and warned us against ragging. After asking biker boys to leave he said to me in his monotonous voice with little variation in pitch and tone "If you go near that girl again, I will suspend you". It shattered my hopes of going to her and making me clear on the issue. As I left the office and moved back to hostel I could see biker boys standing in the corridor and in serious flirtoragg with another damsel.

The severity of Biker boys actions were diluted by my comment and forced HOD to issue only a mild warning enabling them to continue with their flirtoragg sessions. All his anger was directed to me and I ended up giving the ultimate 'Gurudakshina' to Biker Boys for learning flirtoragg ; comparable only to the one given by Ekalavya, my favourite mythological character.

Sunny morning, lazy minds, a catalyst and a parker pen

We the 8 semester students and inmates of top floor of RIT mens hostel were still in bed, lazy n cozy when we heard someone shouting at a sight which was never seen there before.

A well dressed man, could be a Bank manager or an Officer in Govt service (as inferred from his appearance) was coming towards the hostel with his ward, a boy of 17+ years old, neatly dressed in tucked in shirts, full sleeve an expensive leather belt and black formal shoes and a parker pen on his pocket.

Let me first say that no juniors were permitted to enter the premises of men’s hostel. Rather, they didn’t have the courage, even to look to the side of MH while they were in the first years of college life. Now a boy ushered by his father (that too just after filing an application) was coming to evaluate the hostel and its facilities (which could be a part of the evaluation program that included labs, classrooms, library, quality and make of machines / instruments installed in labs etc) so as to decide whether the college equipped to fetch him a BTech degree and fit for him to live his next 4 years.

For us this sight was really enterprising. It turned out as a catalyst which triggered our ‘seniorist’ instincts and we jumped from our bed and darted towards the lounge. There, we found them asking our juniors, 4th semester students, about mess timings, mess workers, cleaning schedules and quality of food etc. The much annoyed interviewees were rejoiced to see us marching towards to them to take control of the situation. They retired and peacefully settled in the big news paper reading table which served as their gallery for the forthcoming events.

We got split into two groups. While one group stayed with the father and answered his questions, other group took the boy to a corner. The group with the boy, made guesses on the brand of the shirt and in order to confirm he had to remove his shirt and show it to all. To make guesses on the length of his belt, the same was also taken out. While removing his shoes, the fathers’ eyes fell on his ward and came for his rescue. Bit tensed on this sight, he advised us to consider him as our younger brother and reminded us of our duty to protect, guide and help him realize his dream of becoming a ‘strong’ and ‘powerful’ engineer.

Soon our colleague, an intellect who scores 80+ in all university exams but 50- in all internals and to whom calculator was a luxury, rose up and told them that, to master engineering one should unlearn all what he learnt earlier. The pride earned when he got selected to a premier college has to be shed out. Praise which fell on his ears while he ejaculated his CEE rank to his family members / friends has to be forgotten. Competitive spirits which helped him secure a good rank has to be buried and capability to gel with his colleagues shall be practiced.

Father and son thought that, what happened was “the unlearning activity” and left the hostel in peace. But to us the real fight started as we were to find out who became the new master for that parker pen.

The Underdog

The table was dealt for 4 people. Achachan, Weral,Machu and I.Players took their cards and 'keech' started.

Folklore is that the Keech,the most famous card game in RIT hostel, was originated in Weral’s village. He used to watch and (as he later claimed), became a legendary player in Keech. When he joined RIT, financial shortcomings due to his extravagant lifestyle forced him to find other sources of income. After successful stint with seasonal activites of income like ragging and selling old books at exorbitant prices, he was in search for a permanent source of income. So keech was introduced in RIT hostel and it enjoyed immense success and popularity due to its simplicity and huge money involved (as per RIT standards then).Weral's winning keech strategy was to mark the back of the cards with his long nails and identify them during the distribution for getting a fair idea of opponents cards.

Achachan mastered the art of Keech and was a regular player with an untarnished reputation in Keech circles. Being an ardent fan of Keech, he was too keen to popularise the game and used to explain things that happened during the games to friends, bringing his strong analytical skills and the probability theory with skillful narration.

What to say about me!. The story goes like this.The keech is played in pothan's room and my room was at the other end.The games end only after midnight and by the time I reach my room all the people in that floor used to wake up by the sound of coins I carry after winning the games.It was only a matter of observing the playing styles of opponents for me.

Machu was a late entry into college as he came 3 months late after getting a transfer form calicut university.First year proved to be difficult for him and resulted in 'supples' which followed him for two more years.By the time he got away from supples, others had gained considerable expertise in keech.That day marked his entry into keech.

3 cards were dealt for each player.Initial betting amount was 50 Ps. After viewing his cards the player can either place an additional bet or fold and leave the game.Triple 'A's are the highest hand followed by triple 'K's,'Q's and 'J's.Then comes 'TIN',in which A,K,Q will be of different types.Then 'COLOUR',i.e the cards of same types followed by double A's & K, double A's & Q and so on.Player holding the highest hand wins all the money.

I was happy for getting triple 'J' and observed others reactions.Achachan was deep in thought, presumably a less hand.Weral had his trademark smile,a high hand for sure but not the best.Machu was worried,sweat dripped down his face and seemed disappointed.I felt sorry for him, he is going to loss a lot of money today. First round went with everybody placing additional bets.It went for one more round.

Third round; weral doubled the betting amount.Achachan followed,so did machu and I.It went for 5 more rounds.Well, I began to get a little concerned about it.As per the rules of the game the play continues till two players remain and either of them asking for a showdown.I went on to loss Rs.10 and finally I backed off.After folding my hand I went to achachan who was holding triple 'Q's .Achachan was in full spirit as his probability theory predicted very less chance for either Machu or weral holding 3A or 3K. After losing 10 more rupees he folded his probability theory. Together we went to weral. Weral was holding triple 'K's.

Weral was very confident because he had noted that the 'A'' s marked by him were not distributed and chances of 3'A' was impossible.After couple of rounds and betting on Rs25 Weral asked for a showdown, and to his shock, three aces emerged from Machu's hand.Weral was heartbroken as he failed to identify the right markings on the back of the cards. I asked Machu about his reaction on seeing the hand and he told "I WAS STUNNED". I got it all wrong, neither achachan's theory nor weral's tricks worked .What a way to lose money!. I was only happy for the fact that both Weral and Achachan lost more money than me and the story remained underground.

Reputation does matter!

Hobnob Uncle and Rumboys

Hobnob – the not so modern yet the only decent coffee shop near RIT was our frequent hangout place. Be it after class, end of a ragging session or after a boring lecture we fell onto Hobnobs’ ambience to unwind ourselves with the coffee, puffs and wills served there.

Hobnob was managed by a man of about 50 years old (I forgot his name) and his son roughly of our age. Though friendly with us he never allowed us to take juniors to his shop and never promoted our ragging affairs in hobnob. He was a typical old man with lots of ego and self esteem that sometimes he forgot that we are his potential clients and the very reason of his existence. He never allowed us to raise our voice beyond a particular decibel and such atrocities of this man made the college union decide to put ‘ban’ on the use of hobnob. This caused us not to avail hobnob facilities but its ambience and the taste of coffee took us to hobnob after two weeks of all such ‘ban’.

Though we returned to hobnob lured by its ambience and coffee, we were longing for a chance to repay him for all his bestial deeds and all the think-tanks of our batch were weaving out plans to make it true. Nonetheless we wanted to do the biggest prank we ever did, inside hobnob.

One day at around 4.00 pm, we were at hobnob with the usual wills, coffee and puffs. Oolan put in the topic on how to retort on our Hobnob uncle. Though everybody contributed positively, Kurumadi wrapped in his short white shirt and golden lined white mundu (dhothi) resembling a ‘Nair groom’ fall into the side of our enemy uncle and advocated for him. According to Kurumadi, all our uncles’ actions were justified with his intention of maintaining the decorum and ambience of his coffee shop and to establish a title of “ragging free zone” for his shop. Moreover Kurumadi opined that though uncles’ behavior hurt us, it should be nullified by his generosity in giving us credit for more than 30 days and keeping all our accounts till the bill is paid.

Though there was a point in what Kurmadi said no one was ready to agree with his views. Moreover, all vengeance we had towards hobnob uncle got channeled towards Kurumadi also. Everybody gave disapproving and fierce glances to Kurumadi. Suddenly Poocha jumped from his chair, advanced towards our uncles’ advocate, caught his mundu in his right hand and ran towards the exit door of hobnob. All these happened within a fraction of a second and even before kurumadi knew what has happened he was deprived of his mundu. All of us got the plan. Even though the plan was not briefed, we all knew what our part was and how to execute it.

Poocha threw the mundu as high as possible into a nearby tree. We all started walking towards the volleyball court as if nothing has happened. Our puzzled uncle peeped into the shop to see his advocate sitting in the corner chair with hands between his two legs as if to stop something from falling down. While we reached volleyball court we could see the old man with a long stick trying hard to take the mundu from the tree. Mundu unlike his master displayed a high degree of loyalty towards us and preferred to stay at the top.

It was the peak business hour for hobnob as the students and teachers came out from college after class and our poor uncle in the midst of his efforts to take the mundu down, need to stop his other clients from entering hobnob. This continued for 10 minutes and Oolan standing at Volleyball court offered free coffee from hobnob to all he met in the road so as to make this drama continue. Seeing the flow of students to hobnob and the uncompromising stand of our loyal mundu, uncle yelled for his wife and asked her to bring a mundu from his wardrobe and handed it over to kurumadi to end the drama.

Though all were happy with what we did at hobnob, everyone was sad on the fact that none could see the pose of kurmadi sitting inside the shop. Uncle later told us that though he was angry that day, he laughed a lot whenever he thought of karumadis’ posture in that corner chair.