Home away from Home - Part 1

Those of you who have read the last few comments from the previous post will understand why I just HAVE to talk about “Dorm life” in this post. I said it once before and I will say it again… “Me and my big mouth”. Anyway here goes…

When one thinks of a “Dormitory” one thinks of rows of beds stacked horizontally or vertically. Since I am living in a single room (one of 179 other single rooms in the same building) with just one bed, I guess the term “Residence Hall” might be more appropriate. But then, the word hall itself would seem strange for those unexposed to American universities. After all in Indian terms, isn’t a hall a large indoor space or a living room where you entertain guests? Take it from me that almost every building on a university campus in America is called a hall. If you live in it, its called a residence hall, if you eat in it, its called a dining hall and if you attend classes in it, its called… err.. umm.. just a hall. But I digress. Let me get to the point…

Around 5 pm on the 22^nd of August last year, my first day in the USA, I stood outside Babcock Hall (yup, you guessed right, that’s the name of my residence hall… Do I hear any snickers? I’m a gentle guy by nature, but any puns about the name of my beloved hall and you will see my violent side) looking up at the large imposing five floor brick building. As I walked inside I did not know what to expect. Could I live the same way I had lived before? Could I get along with the diverse population of the building. Would I feel left out or lonely? The last question answered itself almost immediately as I was met near the door by three Indians (girls I may add.. ahem.. ahem). Clearly I was not going to miss Indian girls and that was enough to make my apprehension vanish. Once indoors I was checked in to my room by a blonde girl who smiled at me more than anyone had ever smiled at me in my life. Unsure about what to do, I matched her smile for smile. Just when my mouth was beginning to pain, she handed me the key to 128 and I heaved a sigh of relief. I was now an official Babcock resident.

My first thought on seeing my room… “Kinda small”. But that was probably for the best because I am not capable of maintaining a large and spacious room. Not that I’ve maintained this small room very well. (I can find a way to mess up even a 6ft by 2 ft box if I ever get locked up in one (Don’t get ideas, guys)). It just means that I have much lesser space to pollute which is in the best interest of the universe. The only time my room was very clean was when my initial euphoria at landing in the United States propelled me to neatly unpack my two gargantuan suitcases. That first day my room looked great. I remember beaming at my beautiful room and whistling contentedly. Settling down into a routine however took some time with the kitchens and bathrooms causing me the most trouble.

Whatever little I knew of cooking I had learnt from my Mom hurriedly before I left. I took careful notes and landed here armed with a book filled with recipes for several of my favorite dishes. I would cook with the book in one hand meticulously following one step after another. Imagine a high school chemistry student performing a titration in a lab and you have the exact picture of me cooking. However, I never ever obtained the expected result even if I counted out the fragments of salt. In fact, the net result would be barely eatable leave alone tasty. By the end of a month I had taken a strong dislike to my ‘favorite’ dishes. Now, having used the exactly same ingredients used by my mom, having followed all her instructions to the letter and also having been a good chemistry student (My teacher will testify to this) I concluded that the bad results were no fault of mine. This meant of course that the kitchen was to blame according to the Sherlock Holmes principle which states that “Once all possibilities are exhausted, the last one remaining is true however improbable it sounds.” Having concluded thus, I decided to leave the kitchen alone. If I am alive today to write this post, it is because of two good Samaritans (Anu and Bhagi) who for some reason thought it worth their while to feed me and keep me alive. So if you enjoy reading this even a little bit, please don’t forget to thank them.

The bathroom problem seemed tougher to tackle at first because I obviously cannot give up taking a shower like I gave up cooking. Basically the problem was this. The damned Americans used curtains instead of doors. Didn’t they learn in school that curtains can be “drawn apart”? What I wouldn’t have given for a solid wooden door at that time… (sigh). For the first month I clutched the curtain with one hand while bathing. For the next month I just stood very close to the curtain ready for you know what. After two months passed by without the occurrence of any controversial incident, I finally realized that no one was really interested in peeking at me. It hurt my pride a bit but at least I could now shower in peace.

Having resolved the mundane issues, let us turn to more appealing stuff. The most amazing thing about Babcock is that you can have all the privacy you want and at the same time be among people. Bored in your room? Go to the lounge where a bunch of other people from various parts of the world are sitting around chatting or playing a game. (Babcock is the only international residence hall at UNH btw). Once you are fed up with the yapping around you, you can go back to your room, lock yourself in and put a do not disturb sign outside your door. This sign will keep out people from all nationalities except Indian. Note that Indians will make it a point to knock and ask you why you put up the sign. This problem is easily solved by making sure you write the reason for not wanting to be disturbed on your notice board. Mind you, reasons like “sleeping”, “reading” are simply not good enough. A good reason I’ve found is to say “I’m talking to my parents”. This reason will get you a lot of respect from all Indians alike and they will leave you alone for hours together, praising your goodness. Be careful not to substitute “girlfriend/boyfriend” for “parents” though it seems to logically follow. Extreme jealousy will make them hammer your door down before you even open it.

To be continued……

PS: I was not intending to make this a two part post but it is now 1:30 am and tomorrow is going to be a long day at work. I better hit the sack. Damn you Vidya for that deadline.... :p. Yangbai Gangtok, you should be satisfied now. I’m in the process of keeping my part of the deal. Hopefully someday you will reveal yourself to me so that we can laugh about it.

Over and out... :-)