Journey of an Ambivert : Chapter 1

                             Chapter 1: Life in the New City

        It was the killer Summer of 2011, with the May sun blazing at its full glory. Things were changing at the speed of a Bollywood dance sequence for us boys in our small town of Tezpur, right on the banks of the mighty Brahmaputra River. All of us friends had finally escaped the clutches of our High School Board exams and were ready to kick-start the new chapters of our lives. Some chose to dive into the world of science, arts, hotel management, medicine, and other fancy stuff. As for me, I had my sights set on a bachelor's degree in Management, then an MBA and joining a Navratna/Maharatna PSU.

        Most of my buddies had scattered to cities all over India for their higher studies, while I settled on NEF College of Management & Technology to pursue my BBA degree. It was like one of those new fancy-shmancy colleges in Guwahati that everyone talks about. For me, it wasn't just about getting a BBA degree; it was about stepping out of my comfort zone and experiencing life to the fullest — new cities, new people, new adventures! 🏫🌍

        It's the scorching month of May in 2011, and I had managed to clear the online interview for the college. The next step? A visit to NEF to complete the remaining formalities. Dad decided to tag along for the ride. We hopped on a bus to Guwahati, enduring a three-hour journey that felt longer than a typical Indian wedding ceremony. Finally, we reached our destination and made our way to the college, where we met the HOD and took a tour of the Institute. Everything seemed satisfactory. I had this strange feeling in my gut that this was just the beginning of some epic adventures - My instincts, they're sharper than a well-groomed mustache. So, without further ado, I made up my mind — NEF College it was! We completed the admission formalities, and I couldn't help but feel like a hero about to embark on a glorious journey. 🚀🕺

        But wait, you see, NEF didn't have a boys' hostel on campus. Nope, not a single one. The only hostel they had was strictly for the ladies. So, the caretaker of the Institute kindly directed us towards some private PGs and hostels, and off my dad and I went on our great hostel-hunting expedition. 

        We arrived at one of the PGs, expecting a decent place to rest our weary heads. But lo and behold! The moment I stepped foot inside, my jaws dropped faster than a Gujarati snack at a family gathering. The PG rooms were like the dungeons of an ancient haunted castle — dark, dingy, and utterly unlivable. When the PG owner swung open the doors to showcase the "accommodations," I was hit by a stench that could rival the smell of a thousand-year-old rotting samosa. The walls were covered in explicit graffiti, and the room was littered with more undergarments than you'd find in an amateur fashion show. And there, in the corner, sat a dude with a cigarette 🚬 in his mouth, puffing away and blowing smoke circles like he was auditioning for a role in a circus. 

Dad, with his eyebrows raised, asked the owner, "Arrey bhai, koi bada aur accha room hai kya?"

        The owner, who looked like a pimpy character straight out of a 90s Bollywood movie with his flashy attire and over-the-top style, replied, "Haanji, hai toh. Par abhi construction chal rahi hai. Ek-do mahine mein ready ho jayenge. Aapka beta tab tak yahi room mein reh sakta hai, phir naye room mein shift kar denge."

        I was like, "Hello to the NO!" There was no chance I was going to live like a rat 🐀 in that place for a month. Just the sight of those rooms was enough to make me queasy 😖. I had zero intention of becoming the poster child for "Dilapidated Hostel Living 101." Nope, not happening! 

        Dad, seeing my distress, wasn't buying the owner's filmy promises. He looked at me and said, "Pom, why don't we do some online research and ask your friends for some solid hostel recommendations? After all, we still have a month before the semester kicks off. Let's find you a proper place to stay."

        So, we ditched the haunted PG and decided to treat ourselves to a scrumptious lunch instead. Exploring the city could wait for another day. I had seen all the famous spots in Guwahati anyway, and the scorching heat was turning me into a roasted potato. All I wanted at that moment was to go home and dive into the comforting embrace of my bed, pronto! We caught the earliest bus, boarded it like seasoned travelers, and within seconds, I was out like a light. 😴💤

Finally, we arrived home, devoured a quick dinner and plopped into bed with the promise of a fresh day of hostel hunting. 

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        A couple of weeks later, I had finally narrowed down a few good PGs and hostels in the city. I marked them all on Google Maps, planning to visit each one and select the best and nearest to the Institute. So, bright and early, I hopped on the same 7 am bus, reaching Guwahati around 10:00 AM. It was raining cats and dogs, and I, being the genius that I am, didn't have an umbrella or a raincoat with me. 🌧️😅

        As I got off the bus, I sought refuge under the roof of an ATM. Luckily, I had taken out some cash to pay the hostel booking fee. I stood there, pondering my next move. Should I hail an auto-rickshaw, buy an umbrella, or wait for the rain to calm down? Thankfully, the rain eased up a bit, and I managed to jump onto a city bus headed towards City Cozy Home — the hostel I selected.

        Now, this was my first time boarding a city bus, and the crowd inside was like nothing I had ever seen before. People were squished together like flies on a sticky jalebi. There wasn't even an inch of breathing space, yet the bus conductor kept hollering, "khaali bus, khaali bus," as if there was room for even a butterfly to squeeze in. What unfolded during the next 20 minutes of my bus journey can be summed up like this:

        An old, plump lady arguing with the bus conductor over a mere rupee, two elderly gentlemen engaging in an armrest wrestling match, old Bollywood songs blaring through the roof, a lady fiercely fighting with a college student for the coveted ladies' seat, a laborer struggling to board the bus with a bag of raw meat slung over his shoulder — the stench of which wafted through the entire bus. One lady desperately tried to cover her nose with her tiny, pink handkerchief, clutching it as if her life depended on it. And as the bus halted to take on more passengers, a portly fellow attempted to squeeze through the narrow back door, but failed spectacularly, ending up falling head-first on the bus platform, then rolling onto the road like a comical circus act. What was even more astonishing was that no one batted an eyelid. The bus simply carried on as if such incidents were part of their daily routine in the City.

        Finally, after enduring this circus for 20 minutes, I reached my stop and hopped off the bus. I walked the remaining distance to the hostel, which was conveniently located within walking distance from the main road and about 3 kilometers away from my Institute. The rain had just stopped, leaving the road leading to the hostel muddy and dirty. Little did I know that this particular area, Rajgarh, was notorious for waterlogging during the monsoon months, often submerged underwater for weeks on end. If only someone had warned me then, I would have chosen a PG closer to the Institute. Ah, the joys of Guwahati's monsoon season and its delightful floods — a story for another day, indeed! 

        Anyway, I finally reached the hostel, and the Manager greeted me with a smile. As we had previously decided, I would be needing a single room, so he swiftly led me to my abode. To my pleasant surprise, the room was quite spacious compared to the others I had seen earlier, with ample ventilation and a large window right next to the bed. I couldn't help but do a happy dance in my mind. This was it! I paid the token money to the Manager, promising to bring my belongings next month and settle the remaining payment then. With hunger gnawing at my stomach, I savored a delicious lunch at a nearby restaurant, and afterward, headed to the bus stand to catch the evening bus back to my hometown. 

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        A month had passed, and I was now 18, ready to embark on my grand adventure in Guwahati. On that fateful morning, I eagerly waited near the highway for the bus, accompanied by my dad and younger brother. My belongings were crammed into an XXXL suitcase — the largest suitcase I had ever laid my eyes on. It felt like the darn thing weighed more than me! And to make matters more hilarious, my dear mom insisted that I carry along a bucket, mug, mosquito net, and who knows what else. I couldn't help but say, "Mom, just pack the essentials! I can get the rest in the city itself." After much protest, she reluctantly agreed. 

        Around 11 AM, I finally reached the Hostel. But oh boy, what followed was a comedy of errors! It turned out that the previous manager had vanished into thin air, taking with him the rent cash, utensils from the hostel kitchen, and heaven knows what else. Talk about a grand disappearing act! The new manager couldn't find any record of my previous token payment, and to top it all off, the single room I had reserved was occupied by someone else. You can imagine the fury bubbling up inside me. 🔥😡

        In an attempt to salvage the situation, the owner assured me that a single room would be available by the next week. In the meantime, he suggested a double room that had just been prepared the day before. Another guy was supposed to join me that very day. The owner, trying to pacify me, said, "Manage kar lo, beta! It's just a matter of days." Well, I figured I could handle a week. How hard could it be, right? With a glimmer of hope, the new manager, Mr. Dhar, led me to my new room. It was clean and cozy, suitable for two people to share. There were two beds in opposite corners and a single table with a chair in the middle. It seemed that City Cozy Hostel 🏠 truly lived up to its name. 😄

        I unpacked my belongings and bid farewell to my dad and brother as they left on the evening bus. Now, here I was, back in my room, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I couldn't help but feel a bit claustrophobic. After all, I wasn't accustomed to such small rooms. Back in our hometown, we had spacious rooms that could fit a family of elephants! Just when I was lost in my thoughts, Mr. Dhar informed me that my roommate would be arriving any moment. I decided to take a quick peek at the other rooms and get a sense of the folks living in this hostel.

        The hostel had two blocks, each with four floors. Each block contained around 7-8 rooms, with two rooms sharing a bathroom. Out of the total 50-60 odd rooms, there were only eight single rooms available — those were the large ones, furnished with a single bed, chair, table, and a big window. Oh, how I regretted not being able to get the room I had originally chosen, all thanks to the thieving manager. I cursed 😠 him silently in my head as I ventured out to explore the rest of the floors. 

        What I witnessed left me even more flabbergasted. I encountered guys lounging half-naked on their beds, doors wide open, some with a beer in hand, others puffing away on a cigarette. One fellow was engaged in a heated argument with his girlfriend, hurling loud profanities at her over the phone. The rest of the rooms were engulfed in darkness, with smoke billowing out from some of them. The guys, dressed in their white undershirts and boxers, looked like bats hanging out of their cozy little nests. It was all a bit too much for my innocent eyes, and I started to question 😳 whether I should have opted for a single studio apartment instead of this bustling private hostel. 

        Thankfully, there was a Big Bazaar store a couple of blocks away in the main city square. I walked over there, grabbing some groceries, stationery items, and a truckload of snacks and munchies. Just as I returned to my room, I heard a knock on the door. It was Ankon, my roommate, accompanied by Mr. Dhar. Ankon and I exchanged pleasantries, and he immediately got to work unpacking his belongings while never removing his headphones 🎧, which were practically fused to his ears. He constantly spoke into the mouthpiece, mumbling so softly that I doubted whether the person on the other end could even hear him. 📱

        Over the next few days, Ankon and I chatted about our lives, colleges, love interests, hobbies, and whatnot. He was a fun guy to talk to, always on the phone with his girlfriend 24/7. I couldn't recall a single moment when I saw him without those old rotting white headphones glued to his ears. He wore them in the bathroom, during lunch and dinner, and even while hanging out on the balcony, resembling a live skinned broiler chicken. It seemed like those headphones were an inseparable part of his being. 

        Then, one fine evening, I noticed Ankon meticulously packing all his dirty clothes and bedsheets into a bag. Assuming he was off to the nearby laundry, I asked if he could take my clothes along as well. To my surprise, he smiled and said, "Bro, I'm not taking them to the Dhobiwala. I'll be giving them to my girlfriend. She'll wash them for me."

        I was taken aback. This guy was receiving some serious housewife-level service! He continued, "Give me your clothes too. It's no trouble for her."

        I couldn't believe my ears! There was no way I was going to burden some stranger's girlfriend with my dirty laundry. I replied, "Nah, bro, it's alright. I'll take care of my own clothes the next time I'm out."

        Ankon persistently insisted with a smile. Fortunately, his phone rang, saving me from further laundry debates. He pressed a button on his headphones and abruptly left the room, leaving his scattered clothes behind on the bed.

        "What a guy," I pondered, shaking my head in amusement. 

        Another week passed, and finally, my new room was ready. I couldn't contain my excitement😁. I packed my belongings faster than an eloping bride and let out a sigh of relief as my new room stood before me, waiting to be claimed. Ankon helped me with my stuff, carrying some of my bags down the floor, all the time still on the phone with his girlfriend. I called my mom immediately, sharing the joyous news. She mentioned a puja happening back home and informed me that Dad's driver would pick me up early the next morning. With a wide grin plastered on my face, I crawled into bed, eagerly anticipating the dawn of a new chapter in my hilarious hostel life. 

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To be continued...............