It's been a very long time since I blogged. Sheer laziness and nothing else. In the meantime the world has been caught up in the Covid 19 scare, which, even as I write this, is taking a horrifying toll on human life and efforts. Starting in China in January this year, it has ravaged almost all parts of the world and is yet another indicator that we human beings are but insignificant creatures in Nature's scheme of things.
News around the world today is depressing and frightening. India is in complete lockdown and so are many other countries. Everything from shops and restaurants to trains, planes and buses are shut down and great social and economic tensions seem inevitable. I wonder how it will all end.
In this gloomy weather, I thought it apt to remind myself and others of happier times. So I wrote an article about some of our college pranks and sent it to the Hindu who finally published it last Sunday (29th March 2020). Some comic relief after days and days of gloom!
News around the world today is depressing and frightening. India is in complete lockdown and so are many other countries. Everything from shops and restaurants to trains, planes and buses are shut down and great social and economic tensions seem inevitable. I wonder how it will all end.
In this gloomy weather, I thought it apt to remind myself and others of happier times. So I wrote an article about some of our college pranks and sent it to the Hindu who finally published it last Sunday (29th March 2020). Some comic relief after days and days of gloom!
Here is the article:
Campus capers: just for laughs and thrills
MARCH 29, 2020 00:34 IST
When funny pranks and youthful derring-do set a campus alive
Timid in school, my mischief buds were awakened only after joining college in Delhi. My partners
in crime were Arvind, Philip and Shamsher, all pranksters nonpareil.
Our first victim
was a fellow who sold fruits at exorbitant prices on the campus. We struck at
midnight. With a
wicked-looking hook ingeniously attached to a long pole, Shamsher lifted
basket-loads of luscious fruits through the ventilator of the shop into our
waiting hands and mouths. The next day, the man was found frantically examining
the waste bins on the campus. But we outsmarted him by evenly spreading the
banana skins, orange peels and other incriminating evidence across the
residential blocks. Eventually, after a series of such raids, and much to our dismay, he sealed the ventilator.
Arvind once boasted
that he would sleep all alone at night on the Ridge, a wooded, spooky area near
the college. He placed a bet with us, and we deposited him around midnight near
the grave of a British Captain who died in action during the 1857 War of
Independence. Nonchalantly lighting up a cigarette, Arvind looked dangerously
close to winning the bet, as he cheerfully slid into his sleeping bag. As
usual, Shamsher saved the situation. He rushed to a nearby postgraduate hostel
where he had friends, and mustered three vicious-looking characters who
pretended looking for buried loot near Arvind’s sleeping place. We watched in
glee from the nearby bushes, as a shaken Arvind was rudely chased away. He
escaped leaving behind his spectacles and sleeping bag, and it was only several
months later that we told him the truth.
Honking mad
Philip was the proud owner of an
old-fashioned horn pilfered from an ancient city bus abandoned on the Ridge. He
and Arvind would go around on Philip's scooter, get close to the ears of unsuspecting
cyclists or tonga wallahs and scare the living daylights out
of them, by squeezing the rubber bulb which would then emit an unearthly
shriek. Occasionally, a water pistol replaced the horn, with much the same
results. Sometimes, the
cyclist would even fall off in fright, while the two triumphantly fled the
scene. I once tried replacing Arvind on the pillion seat, but was hopelessly
clumsy. Our target, an old tonga wallah, reacted with lightning
speed. As I squirted water onto his face, he let out an unmentionable expletive and lashed
out at me with his horse whip, resulting in painful red welts all over my back
and chest. For a long time after that, I declined to go with Philip on his
marauding sprees.
One day, a famous
cartoonist was invited to the college. The hall was full, partly because of his
reputation but also because of the exquisite chocolate éclairs which would be served during
tea. Shamsher and I, who came mainly for the goodies, had to stand outside and
watch the proceedings. As tea was being served, we noticed that SJ, a rather well-endowed batch
mate, was sitting on the window sill in front of us. He was leaning forward,
teacup in hand, anxious to take in every word of the cartoonist.
Scalding hot
As he did so, his
shirt went up and trousers slid down exposing a considerable portion of the cleft below. The temptation was irresistible! Shamsher winked at me;
I winked back and in a trice, poured a large dose of the hot, sticky liquid from my own cup into the cleavage. SJ
yelped and shot out of his seat, sloshing himself and others with tea. Livid with
rage, he turned around and spotting me, ran out of the hall and chased me down
the corridor. He would have beaten me to pulp had Shamsher not intervened.
Many years later,
Shamsher bumped into SJ at an alumni meet and reminded him of the incident.. A senior IAS officer then, SJ
mercifully bore no grudge and merely laughed it off, even as Shamsher helpfully pointed out that he was
probably the only man in the world who had tasted tea from both ends!
thommen1512@gmail.com
