Room # 5

When I first saw the room, I thought the chechi was showing us a place to put away our luggage. Small, dusty and clattered with old furniture, what else was I supposed to think? I would have never imagined that this was the home-away-from-home they had described. Then, she said something which made me question my whole idea of moving to a different country. Apparently, I had to share it with-

“Say what? Four of us have to fit in here?” 

Of course, I knew there would be roommates beforehand. It is a universal college experience after all. I believed I was mentally prepared, but that was before I saw the the room. 

Our room was on the ground floor. We were lucky since we didn’t have to trudge up the stairs constantly and because “the store” was right outside our room. I use the term store lightly for it was a book shelf filled with snacks, stationary, and bath items. And we weren’t so lucky because we got first dibs on mosquitoes and the pleasant odor from the toilets outside. 

Inside the room, there were four beds, a shelf, two thin racks for laundry, four tables and accompanying stools. The beds were all jammed together side by side to make this one big bed. As someone who valued her personal space, I just knew this was a nightmare waiting to happen. Later on, we moved the beds around in all sorts of positions and angles (well as much as we could with the limited space we had) only to finally put it back the way we found it. It turned out personal space could easily be sacrificed for relief from the heat.

In retrospect, the relief was a pretty lousy one. The ancient fan which towered over our four beds had literally one speed and sounded as if it would spiral down on us at any moment. The original cream color was gone due to the dust it had accumulated over the years. Initially, we were probably breathing dust from 1970. We ended up cleaning it by ourselves with a makeshift ladder: a wobbly stool placed on top of a bed. Boy, did the air smell sweeter then. Unfortunately, it did not do much for the heat and we had to resort to other methods for cooling. 

The strangest thing I found about the room was a little gap from the ceiling that seemingly connected us to our neighbors. What I thought was a lack of privacy turned out to be a saving grace. We ended up sharing a lot more than a dim light that year. And that is a story meant for another day.

But the worst part wasn’t the smallness, the lack of personal space and privacy or even the creaky old fan, the worst part was an annoying morning ritual. The hostel had an interesting way of waking up students. In my personal opinion, this routine could easily rival any boot camp. I still vividly remember waking up my first morning in the hostel.

First of all, it had taken me a long time to sleep the night before because of the different environment. The heat was torturous, the mosquitoes bit through our clothes and the mattress could hardly be called a mattress. It was this long, thin cushion. I mean, I could feel the wood underneath it. Not to mention, it was small. I was one of those people who turned clockwise in their sleep (Key word: was) so I was  making a conscious effort not to bulldoze my roommates since the beds were pushed together. Remember? One giant bed. And then, my mind just would not calm down. I was nervous, excited, sad, curious- a whole whirlwind of emotions. My mind couldn’t make up it's mind.  

Exhausted, I finally fell asleep around two or three am. The next thing I know some guy is screaming in my ear “POKAM, POKAM, JEEVAN.... POKAM!”  

And I promptly fall off the bed, tangled in my sheets. Disoriented, I’m wondering if it’s a earthquake drill or something until my roommate tells me it’s the wake up call. And we were especially lucky because the speakers were right next to our windows. Although I now know the lyrics of that particular Christian devotional song from the first morning, back then, I could’ve sworn the voice was telling me, "POKAM, POKAM, JEEVAN EDUTHONDU POKAM!”  

We soon grew immune to the loud blaring and the wardens had to come up with some other devious schemes to get us up at six in the morning. There was knocking, threats, turning on the lights and the one that worked for a little while was switching off the fans. That was the worst. The heat we could get over, the mosquitoes not so much. As soon as the fans slowed down, they swarmed us. 

Despite all of this, I was surprised how quickly I adjusted. Perhaps I’m an optimist? Is that where you see the beauty in everything? Or maybe it was the writer in me? Anyway, this was certainly not the place I imagined spending my first year in India, but I am so thankful that I did. This is the place where I transitioned from a shy, gullible, ignorant teenager to a young woman who is confident, opinionated and worldly. 

I believe everyone should at least once in their lives live outside their comfort zone, live with people outside their immediate social group, travel... It’ll allow you to learn about yourself, others, relationships, class, culture, religion, and life. It’ll do you a lot of good.