The Police and The Hostel Trolls by Arihant Verma

That Was Weird #Entry1 (Arihant Verma, Alumnus NITH)

The Police Troll

This is a story of 2nd year ECE batch, class of 2015. Like every other batch, we were academically divided (mainly for the labs and tuts, I think it is done?) into three groups: D1, D2 and D3. I was 11401 : D1. We had this thing, that whenever 3-4 people’s birthdays would be accumulated over a certain period of time, we’d go to DT or something and have a dinner together, us boys. Girls could never join, because the plan would always be of the nights.

So this was one of those nights, we were in DT. The alcohol people were having it, other people were having dinner and talking and laughing – the usual. One of the persons who was drinking, won a bottle of rum, after successfully completing the metric of a scheme DT was the host of: to drink 60ml, 8 pegs of something(I’m not an alcohol guy, pardon me), without soda or water, back to back in a limited amount of time. So with us 24 something boys, we had a new family member, which we had to stealthily sneak into the college without being caught.

The alcohol people had drunk more than they could carry without letting their legs roll weirdly, each one of them. So we had to assign a couple of people or three, the humongous but funny task, to take care of them and make them enter the college, by the walking paths.

We, the sober people, had one trip of the car which sent 10 people first, and then the DT car came back to pick the other 10. I was in the last 10. Obviously everybody couldn’t possibly fit and sit on the seats, so three of us sat in the trunk. One of us asked the driver to volume up the speakers. Windows were open, the trunk was open, mountain wind was coming in on us and swaying our hair like it was the love of our life. Until, something unexpected happened.

We had the bottle of rum with us, so we obviously took the gate 2 route. But 200 meters before it, we heard the sound of sirens. It was very unlikely that they were of an ambulance’s, since it wasn’t Bangalore. So in those 15 secs (that’s all what we had to act, and act fast), we determined through hit and trial that it had to be the night patrol, and we were to be stopped very soon. Driver stopped the car in those 15 secs, he was smart of a chap to understand it. In the next 5 seconds, one of us was quick enough to grab the bottle of rum, run and hide in the bushes across the road. This was the luckiest thing that happened to us that night.

We were stopped by the patrol, some 4 odd man with their long latthis and the guy who later would we get to know as DSP. We were ordered to come out and answer their loud yelling voiced questions :

“Daaru Peeke Masti karte ho?!”, “Bole! Bolte kyun nahi ab?!”.

We were crap scared. We tried telling them we were not drunk, but they wouldn’t take any answer. We stood in a perfect line on the mudded, secluded, side portion of the road and were constantly fired questions and occasionally their so thick latthis, when we failed to answer any of their questions (by the virtue of the fact that they wouldn’t let us speak, which was mad!). Then all of a sudden, and out of nowhere they started punishing us, right in the middle of the night. They ordered us again with threats unbounded:

“Sab ke sab Murga bano jaldi se”.

We didn’t even have any time to search for clues by looking at each other and were forced by their hands on our shoulders to get down and do what was being directed. So we complied tacitly.

15 minutes down this classroom like punishment, when we were all consoling ourselves in our minds :

“We aren’t drunk, we eventually would be let go of”,

their latthis started charging our bums hard, and harder when we weren’t able to maintain the correct Kukdoo Koo posture, and were being dragged by gravity to the ground. Our fear went to a whole new level. We weren’t able to think straight. After 20 minutes of this disguised classroom like punishment : which turned out to be a chicken latthi charge, we were asked to hold each other’s ears and do sit ups on the count, and oh! I forgot to mention, driver was doing everything with us😀. After around 200-300 sit ups we were allowed to stand after long. They started scolding us again :

“Kya karte rete hain aaj ke ye launde, dikki khuli hui, itna loud music, upar se tez car chala re hain, kuch dimaag hai bhi ya nahi?”.

That was the peak of the loudness of DSP’s pitch, when our CR (class representative) broke. He started crying, and that is when we all felt somewhat at ease, in the hope that something good might happen now. That was the first time, I was assured to look for something good to happen by someone’s crying. That was the most service oriented crying ever. God bless that timely cry.

We were checked for signs of Daaru manually (Hawaldaars closing in on our mouths and sniffing for alcohol). When none of us were found even slightly drunk, they had no other option but to leave us at gate 2 themselves. Of course they had to hold on to something, to ensure we weren’t mad enough to file a case on them for false charging and beating without reason.

“Take care, that you don’t sit in the trunk of a car, play such loud music in the middle of the night again!”.

And while parting, DSP said apologetically :

“I’m really sorry for what happened, if you ever happen to be near the police station, come by for some tea and snacks”.

We were like : “Yeah, right!”. We were stopped at 10 pm. By the end of this drama it was 12:15 am or something. There was another scene at the NBH’s gate, when we weren’t being allowed in. Finally after that was over, we were let in, we swore not to tell this to anyone. But eventually we did, didn’t we😉 The only thing that we kept making cases of over and over was, what if we had been caught with that bottle of rum.

Midnight Hostel Chachu Troll

This too is 2nd year’s story. New Chachu recruits had been given NBH’s night watch duty after 3rd sem. Ravinder came to my room and asked everybody, if anyone was hungry. Everybody was either busy playing FIFA or surfing the internet. I said I was. The moment I covered the steps that led to ground floor, I immediately turned towards more stairs that led to basement floor, but Ravi stopped me and said :

“Ari bhai, saamne waale gate se chalte hain, chachu ko pta lenge”.

I agreed. But when I saw there were new Chachus in the house, I’d already left all hope. 10 p.m. restriction was quite something those days. And on the advent of new Chachus, it was going to be ruthless. But Ravi as patau as he always is, tried to pamper chachus, but they denied. So, the only way we were to not remain hungry was to go by the back gate, as I’d originally wanted. We were coming around from there, but as soon as we were about to reach the front gate of NBH, we saw two silhouettes. But we kept closing in, since we were unsure of if they were people or something else. As soon as we were close enough to realize that they were Chachus waiting for us, so that they could catch us red handed, we were being chased by them in the opposite direction. I jumped off the 7-7.5 feet wall that runs along the boundary of NBH on the way towards Mega Hostel (What’s its official name? Himgiri or something?). Ravi did too, but twisted his ankle given to an unstable landing. But we continued running. Now let me tell you that Ravi is the kind of person who’s so jolly good a person, one can’t remain in an un-laughed state while being with him, even for a while. So when we barged in Shivak Sir’s room, Ravi got so paranoid by the chase that he helped himself into Shivak Sir’s quilt and hid like he was a criminal on the run. It was was surprising that I was seeing Ravi do this. I was in a state of surprise for a while. Shivak Sir and I laughed so hard, he eventually got out of the quilt, completely blushing of embarrassment.

Helping Oneself Down From The Balcony

This too is a 2nd year’s incident (God! did everything happen in 2nd year only? 😀 ). This one I got to know about only when I woke up next wintry day. My roommate, as sloppy as he could get in the winters had his blabber bursting in the middle of night, but was too lazy to come out of the quilt, let alone room. He took the middle path, he went in the balcony of our 4th floor room (B 408, NBH), and relieved himself without hesitation. This cartoon that I made Adeeba make, was published in SRIJAN 2015 and was inspired by him.




11th September NIT Hamirpur

-Siddhant Gulati, First year

“Either you leave the class or I leave.”

This statement still ringing in my ear.

My worst fear

I am still in first year

But he had made it clear

“Get out of the class!!”

An interesting joke

A comic line

And next you know

“Don’t waste my time”

This is what he said

Or this is what I heard

So I went outside

Hoping not to be seen and observed.

So how do you feel, I ask myself

“Upset as hell”, says my inner self.

But now the damage had been done

And trust me, it was no fun.

My friend along side

“Proud as hell”

Says this is college life


Nothing to fear,

But the statement was still ringing in my ear,

And he had made it clear

“Get out of the class.”

Life offers a myriad of experiences

And this was one

I reiterate that

It was no fun.

I repeated the words

That, defaulters have said again and again

But have had no gain

“I am sorry and I won’t repeat it again.”