<p>My son called recently from the US to tell me about our grandson’s admission to college. When I heard about all the facilities that the college offered its students—the bathrooms, toilets, cafeterias, etc.—in the dormitory, memories of my own hostel days in 1948–49 during my Intermediate course flooded back. We had two blocks, one of which was called the Kudumi block, housing the studious types. I shared Room No. 41/42 with two others: B Venkatesh, a Chemistry Honours student, and another pursuing a Commerce course. Venkatesh was friendly, a heavy smoker, and an expert at cards. After dinner, his bed would become a card table for his friends, who all smoked heavily and engaged in heated discussions after every round of the game. Venkatesh would often tell me, “Magu, ninna paadige neenu odukoppa” (Child, you focus on your studies).</p>.<p>Every bathroom in the hostel had a large Dalda tin container, half filled with hot water, to be topped up with cold water for a quick bath before rushing to the kitchen for a tumbler of hot coffee. Lunch was in the dining hall, where a long line of Muttuga leaf plates (Flame of the Forest) would be spread on the floor with a pinch of salt and pickle on every leaf. The food was prepared by two cooks from Udupi, the Mecca of delicious meals.</p>.<p>Hostel Day was a big event, featuring a play followed by a feast. There were prizes for the winners of the carrom and table tennis tournaments. In those days, boys and girls never interacted. We contented ourselves with simply staring at the girls going to Maharanis College from our hostel balcony until someone had a bright idea. On the day our final exams started, we placed a large picture of goddess Saraswathi adorned with flowers on a bench near the gate of our hostel, and we lit agarbatti and camphor. The girls spontaneously came to the table and bowed their heads in prayer. This was the closest we got to them, but we walked on cloud nine the rest of the day.</p>.<p class="bodytext">How did my hostel mates fare later in life, you may ask? To recall a few, C N R Rao became a scientist and director of the Indian Institute of Science. Nagappa retired as a High Court judge in Karnataka after a distinguished career. M K Venkateshan retired as the CMD of ECGC while the Commerce students went on to become bank managers. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Dr Shivaram, who was our visiting doctor, became a famous Kannada writer who launched the Kannada magazine <span class="italic">Koravanji </span>with sketches by R K Laxman. He was also one of the “anchors” of playwright T P Kailasam, who turned to him for support whenever his father admonished him. Reflecting on the illustrious careers of my hostel mates fills me with pride, knowing that we once shared a simple meal of curd rice and pickle on <span class="italic">Muttugada ele</span> and a Dalda tin of water.</p>
<p>My son called recently from the US to tell me about our grandson’s admission to college. When I heard about all the facilities that the college offered its students—the bathrooms, toilets, cafeterias, etc.—in the dormitory, memories of my own hostel days in 1948–49 during my Intermediate course flooded back. We had two blocks, one of which was called the Kudumi block, housing the studious types. I shared Room No. 41/42 with two others: B Venkatesh, a Chemistry Honours student, and another pursuing a Commerce course. Venkatesh was friendly, a heavy smoker, and an expert at cards. After dinner, his bed would become a card table for his friends, who all smoked heavily and engaged in heated discussions after every round of the game. Venkatesh would often tell me, “Magu, ninna paadige neenu odukoppa” (Child, you focus on your studies).</p>.<p>Every bathroom in the hostel had a large Dalda tin container, half filled with hot water, to be topped up with cold water for a quick bath before rushing to the kitchen for a tumbler of hot coffee. Lunch was in the dining hall, where a long line of Muttuga leaf plates (Flame of the Forest) would be spread on the floor with a pinch of salt and pickle on every leaf. The food was prepared by two cooks from Udupi, the Mecca of delicious meals.</p>.<p>Hostel Day was a big event, featuring a play followed by a feast. There were prizes for the winners of the carrom and table tennis tournaments. In those days, boys and girls never interacted. We contented ourselves with simply staring at the girls going to Maharanis College from our hostel balcony until someone had a bright idea. On the day our final exams started, we placed a large picture of goddess Saraswathi adorned with flowers on a bench near the gate of our hostel, and we lit agarbatti and camphor. The girls spontaneously came to the table and bowed their heads in prayer. This was the closest we got to them, but we walked on cloud nine the rest of the day.</p>.<p class="bodytext">How did my hostel mates fare later in life, you may ask? To recall a few, C N R Rao became a scientist and director of the Indian Institute of Science. Nagappa retired as a High Court judge in Karnataka after a distinguished career. M K Venkateshan retired as the CMD of ECGC while the Commerce students went on to become bank managers. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Dr Shivaram, who was our visiting doctor, became a famous Kannada writer who launched the Kannada magazine <span class="italic">Koravanji </span>with sketches by R K Laxman. He was also one of the “anchors” of playwright T P Kailasam, who turned to him for support whenever his father admonished him. Reflecting on the illustrious careers of my hostel mates fills me with pride, knowing that we once shared a simple meal of curd rice and pickle on <span class="italic">Muttugada ele</span> and a Dalda tin of water.</p>
