He was drunk but wasn't under the influence of alcohol : Part I
Thursday, 29 November 2012
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He walked in with dreams to walk out with a future,
In an institute that was premier and high in stature;
He initiated a voyage with an intention to explore,
The intricacies of life, the surprises it had in store.
Life unfolds a plethora of events as it progresses,
exposing an individual to a litany of obstacles, drowning him/her into a
delirium of ecstasy or sorrow. These memories, both bitter and sweet, leave an
indelible mark on the mind of a person who mourn or cherish them in life. It's
comforting to know that you can always count on your own abilities to help you
recover from any setback and solve any problem.
This is the saga of a young boy who aspired to give
wings to his dreams and become a successful engineer but eventually succumbed
to the ordeal he suffered in the name of ragging.
01 August, 2010 : It was a bright
sunny morning , the sky was lit up with the flame of new ideas. The air was
redolent with positive energy and the birds were singing paeans of the epochal
reorientation of life. In an environment that had harnessed such positivity,
SiddharthOberoi (18) landed in the engineering college of his dreams.
Amazed to see the lush green campus spread over
several acres, he was filled with enthusiasm. It was as if he was standing on
the top of a high pedestal in the kingdom of his dreams and the entire universe
was awaiting his arrival, beckoning him to take over this glorious world. What
a splendid day it was!
The first few days of college life are full of
surprises for the freshers.
The first session of interaction with the vice chancellor and the first few lectures and lab sessions with the professors were more or less similar to each other with everyone showering motivational words of wisdom upon the students and dictating their respective curriculum to them. As the day progressed, the freshers were acquainted with the canteen and library rules and were informed about the various cultural and technical societies. The biggest surprise awaited them at dusk. After verification of his credentials, Siddharth was allotted a hostel room, ‘Room No. – 013, SAPPHIRE HOSTEL.’ As he entered his room in the evening, some of the self-styled guardians (seniors) invited him to the community hall.
The first session of interaction with the vice chancellor and the first few lectures and lab sessions with the professors were more or less similar to each other with everyone showering motivational words of wisdom upon the students and dictating their respective curriculum to them. As the day progressed, the freshers were acquainted with the canteen and library rules and were informed about the various cultural and technical societies. The biggest surprise awaited them at dusk. After verification of his credentials, Siddharth was allotted a hostel room, ‘Room No. – 013, SAPPHIRE HOSTEL.’ As he entered his room in the evening, some of the self-styled guardians (seniors) invited him to the community hall.
“Trump-card”,
a senior questioned.
“Pardon…I
didn’t get bhaiya (brother)”, Siddharth begged.“Introduction, I mean. Call me sir”, the senior said sternly.
“Siddharth Oberoi (18), ECE, AIR 013, 95.13% in 12th boards!” he exclaimed.
“Okay. There
are certain protocols that all the juniors are supposed to follow, lest they
invite the wrath of their seniors. I hope I’ve made myself clear to you”,
the senior said as if he was obliging him by being polite while dictating his
terms and conditions.
It is a harsh reality that even though Ragging is
prohibited by law, it is rampant in practice. Ragging is a paranoia that has
led to the outraging of modesty of innocent students by their seniors. The
seniors, both male as well as female students urged the students to be a part
of this customary tradition and the juniors were stripped and asked to sing,
dance and perform various hilarious activities.Siddharth in his turn revolted
and pleaded that he be excluded from these unethical activities. This, however,
enraged his seniors whose supremacy was being challenged by a mere beginner. He
had himself landed himself in soup and invited the wrath of his seniors by not
complying with their orders.
“Let’s teach
this lad a lesson. Why not try the nail digging act with him? ”, a senior
(girl) suggested.
“Aaj kuch toofani karte hain”
(Let’s do a daredevil act today), suggested another.
Before anything could
be decided, he was compelled to drink a glass filled with vodka to the brim and
then asked to go to the graveyard adjoining the college campus at night, dig a
nail on the grave of ‘ANTONIO GRAZA (1885-1925)’, and return with a snapshot of
the same after completing the task.
At first this seemed rather mundane to him, but the
things became worse when a miasma of fear suffused in the air following what he
read about this grave.
Antonio
Graza, an occupant of room no. 013, Sapphire Hostel, died very young as he was
in possession of an evil vengeful spirit. He succumbed to great and spooky miseries
like vomiting iron nails and oozing out blood from his eyes. In order to wreak
vengeance of this brutal cold-blooded murder, his spirit unleashes bloody
mayhem on anyone who attempts to touch his grave.
For a person who feared entering even a dark room,
visiting a graveyard at night was like voluntarily throwing himself into the
claws of death. But he had no other alternative but to abide by the orders of
his seniors, whom he had unknowingly challenged. Feeling deeply terrorised, he
shuddered at the very idea of disturbing the spirits at night for the sake of
fun of some pixilated students. Alas! With great courage, he summoned his
spirit and made up his mind to complete the task as soon as possible and return
with a snapshot of the same.
It was 11 p.m. at night; he attired himself in a
kurta-pyjama and a loose fitting cardigan and armed himself with a hammer, a
couple of nails and a lantern. Thrice he sought the blessings of the
Almighty and left his room chanting some divine words, which in common parlance
are called ‘mantras’, whose meaning he had never attempted to decipher.
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