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The centre of learning at our Services medical school was a tin shed. Sixty feet by forty, with a cement floor, it went under the lofty name of ‘The Institute’, as are many social centres in the defence services. Open on two sides, with steel tables strewn haphazardly to give it an avant-garde look, it was the hostel canteen. At one end was the kitchen with an oblong opening, which served as the service counter.
It was here that we learned the physiological value of vada paav, the elixir of life, a cup of sweet milky tea with bun maska, and if one was awash with funds, the high-protein bun omelette. Lung function tests were with the signature Charminar cigarettes. The global anti-smoking campaign had not gained traction, and smoking was endemic.
Adjoining the shed was a largish yard with a moth-eaten lawn. One end of
the yard was covered by the branches of a large tree that grew outside the compound. Here one learned the anatomy of love.
Most of the social activities took place within the shed. However, if one had been lucky to snag a girlfriend, then one retired to the quiet corners of the yard. With a challenging ratio of one girl to five boys, it was the elite set that were privileged to lurk in the darker corners of the yard. Come dusk, there would be a strong wave of couples moving into the murky darkness. It was here under the branches that couples whispered to each other, sang softly or proposed. Many betrothals emerged from these darkened corners.
Though essentially self-service, the “Insti”, as it was known, had a waiter called Kishore. A short, scrawny man with a mop of curly hair, he scampered around with incredible speed bearing trays of tea and eatables. Much love was showered upon him, especially by the female quotient, until it was discovered he had a venereal disease. He was dispatched forthwith. His replacement was a dour, lanky lad from the hinterland.
The high point of the season was the college elections. Since printed material was prohibited, candidates made innovative hand-painted posters. Some of the well-endowed would commission artists among the students, and one even had an entire screen carving!
One candidate short of funds wrote his name on Charminar cigarette packets. Appropriate, since he was contesting for canteen secretary. He won hands down. Soon the walls had a festive look. On the morning of the election, two anonymous posters appeared. One had a cricket groin guard with the words “VOTE AND SUPPORT YOUR CANDIDATE”. Another had a women’s upper support saying “UPLIFT OF THE MASSES”.
The author remains unknown till today.