Musings of a Delhi Boy

Barring 2020, and maybe this year too, when the ongoing pandemic has changed rules of admission to centers of higher learning across the country, in earlier years, admissions in  most universities, especially Delhi University colleges, was accompanied with over the top media blitz and hullaballoo. Each day, print and electronic media was full of news and information pertaining to the developments as they unfolded on real time basis. And once the campus reopened in July after the long summer break, and ‘fuchas’-as new entrants were fondly called- came in along with the seniors , there was a further deluge of updates, especially from the North Campus-of benign introduction taking place in most colleges.

Sadly, this was not the case in some other colleges and institutes, especially professional, and sometimes very prestigious institutes, where tough, even brutal ragging, was the norm. 

I have been privy to both these scenarios.

Having unsuccessfully attempted to secure admission in any engineering college of repute after my CBSE class 12^th exams, mainly due to acts of criminals masquerading as politicians, I joined St. Stephen’s College, Delhi, ostensibly one of India’s best colleges, for a degree in Physics. The year-1985.  Although, History and English were my favorite subjects, they had to be sacrificed at the altar of expediency, as after the professional courses, science was the next ‘In thing’. Arts was not looked upon as a premium stream, unless one was preparing for the civil services, which, anyway, I was not inclined to do. My entry in the college was greeted with mild introduction sessions with our seniors-all within the parameters of decency and bonhomie which I enjoyed, and still have fond memories about.

Sadly, I did not learn much from my earlier selection of the courses, having surrendered my interests at the altar of herd mentality. In continuation of that mindset, I decided to make one more attempt at securing admission in a professional course, and this time succeeded in getting admission in the Electrical Engineering stream of the Punjab Engineering College (PEC), Chandigarh. I was elated, and my happiness touched cloud nine, and though I had heard about the tough ragging which freshers are subjected to at some professional colleges, including PEC, from some friends, having encountered only benign, friendly banter at St. Stephen’s, I rubbished all that as the alarmist ranting of dissatisfied souls, and decided to go ahead and join the course.  As a safeguard, I did not shift into the hostel immediately, and kept it pending, for after the initial acclimatizing period was over. Instead, I decided to stay with my paternal uncle, who also lived in Chandigarh.

Classes commenced in August, and I was full of pride at joining a professional course in a college of great repute, satisfied that my dream and hard work were finally bearing fruit.

However, my happiness was short-lived, as during the first formal day in college, in the very first hour, I realized that the tales of horror narrated by my friends and acquaintances, whom I had rubbished as alarmist, were actually only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. As I entered the campus, I was accosted by a group of men, who I presumed were seniors from the college, although their behavior belied this. They took me to an isolated corner of the campus and indulged in conversation which was utterly demeaning.  Initially, I went along, but then feeling a sense of disgust, I refused to play ball.  This enraged the group further, who made me do physical exercises like push ups, until I fell down, exhausted. Infuriated, they passed comments on the sartorial habits of the yuppies coming from metros and vowed to teach me a lesson.

Harried with the experience, I reached my uncle’s house in agony, physical exhaustion and utter disgust, into the loving arms of my father, who had also come along for a few days.  While I was returning home that day, I thanked my stars for having escaped lightly, as horrors from the hostel emanated (which, now, I had every reason to believe)-  of fresher’s being stripped naked, of not being allowed to switch on the lights at night and other bestialities. 

Next morning, my father left for Delhi, but only after having a word with the college Principal, who gave a personal assurance that no physical harm would come to me. Still scared, I bunked classes that day, hoping to get over my initial shock in a day or two.  On the third day, a Friday, I garnered sufficient courage to undertake another foray into the campus.  As I reached the college gate, I encountered the same group, their threat of teaching me a lesson now seemed very imminent.  They accosted me, and took me along to their second year Electrical Engineering classroom, and made me sit in their midst on the front bench.  From there, my mental subjugation commenced, as they made an utterly ludicrous demand – to snatch the register from the hands of the professor, as he marked the attendance, and run away with it.  Initially, I thought it was only a light hearted joke. However, when they persisted, I knew they were serious.  Finding this to be grossly disparaging, I weighed my options for a split second, and then, without looking back, I bolted out of the classroom, and without looking back even once, sprinted out of the campus, on to an auto, to the inter-state bus terminal, where, from a PCO, I informed my aunt of my decision to visit home in Delhi for the weekend. I got onto a bus going to Delhi, reaching the safety of my house by 2000 hrs to the utter surprise of my bewildered parents.

That very night, I informed them about my decision to terminate my quest for a professional degree, to which they acquiesced, without asking any uncomfortable questions. Undoubtedly, they must have been hurt, but the wonderful folks they are, the issue was never raised again.  I resumed my studies at my alma mater in Delhi, from where I went on to complete my graduation and masters. I did not visit Chandigarh for several decades after that fateful episode, which left a long-lasting scar on my psyche, and even my luggage at my uncle’s house was fetched by my mother a couple of days later. 

Now, almost four decades after the unfortunate incident, when I look back, I have no feeling of remorse or regret. Life has treated me well, and I have forgiven, and certainly forgotten, my tormentors. But I wonder what could have happened, had my circumstances been different at that stage, from what they actually were, as must be the case for scores of other students.  What if I did not have anything to fall back upon? What if my parents, having spent considerable amount of money on my admission process, had insisted that I continue in Chandigarh? What if I had got bogged down in social mores? What if I had been weak? The consequences could have been disastrous, as they are in so many cases.

I was lucky, but others might not be so lucky. Through this blog, I want to give a message to all the students who would be seniors now, waiting impatiently for freshers to start pouring in- make entry into college a memorable experience for the juniors, a celebration of higher learning, by resorting to friendly activities only, to lay the foundation of a long and meaningful relationship, by remembering what they must have gone through when they first joined college and learning from it, to act as responsible torch bearers, and not as brutal, insensitive ruffians, playing with the future, and in some cases the very life, of fellow students and the hopes and aspirations of their families.

Please give it a thought.