MY COLLEGE

  MAHATHMA COLLEGE                                                Name       :   Mahathma College Tirur
                                        Placa        :   Tirur
                                        Course     :   Mcom
                                                             Bcom
                                                             BA
                                                             CA
                                                             BBA
                                                             TTC
                                                             Plus Two
                                                                                                                   (Commerce & Humanities)
                                                                                                                   Computer course

I learnt the meaning of freedom. Till then, my life was a regimen. Strict. Dicliplined. Enforced with a cane, kind of routine. The kind of military regimen you encounter in a public school. Wake up a 5 AM, Brush teeth-Wash face-Change clothes-And out by 5.15.

Walk in a line to study-rooms-SILENCE-Pray-“GIVE ME THAT BOOK. NO, NOT THAT ONE, WHERE DID YOU GET THIS FROM? OPEN YOUR DESK!

Slick oiled canes bite hard into the skin leaving red welts that singe. Hard wooden rulers meet harder knuckles…at times breaking it in two. The pains of growing up. Well, that’s not really true. The pains of being a brat.

So you can imagine the kind of freedom…an exhilaration when you enter the portals of a college. You feel so grown up. Big. Strong. (Ok. At least till you encounter seniors)

No more canes. Pinches are there still but of a different kind…this one is more pleasurable.

No more crew-cuts! No more uniform! No more “thought control”.

Yep, freedom! Realised why people fight for it! Wage wars for it!

I rushed headlong into it.

The first thing I did was to grow my hair long. I wanted a nice pony tail. Talk about machism.(What women can do, men can try). And I wanted to be blonde. I just loved being a dumb blonde guy with a ponytail. Yeah. That rocked.

Now I needed a fan following. That was when I first felt the craving…the need to be the centre of attraction. (Girls only). So I decided on the flashiest of clothes. Yellow shirts, mauve shirts…red t.shirts…black ones with whacky irreverent messages…un-printable here…and shoes…yeah…it had to be the ones that do it.

This was the place and time when I first tasted sin. All those sinful delights which were just adolescent fantasies became real. The first puff of a cigarette…the first kiss of a girl…the first sip of whisky…a heady mix of firsts.

It was where I learnt to beg. For attendance. For marks. For love. The professors were of the opinion that I would make a great marketer. One who could sell anything.  

It was where I learnt to steal – Notes…on days where I was busy ogling or playing. I learnt to steal hearts through well-written love poems

A sample –

Darling, you make me fall in love

And I rise every time I do

I am crazy about you

You are like the perfume I wear

You intoxicate my senses

When you come near me

They say poetry flows when you are in love. So I guess I must have been out of love.

The years flew by. The College about rocked.

I still experience the tremors and shiver when I think of those days