I am back with the continuation of my hostel saga! Here goes the second part of the story! As I said before there was a danger lurking near the window of my hostel room. Want to know what it is?
Exhibitionism is an incurable psychological disorder, and there was a victim close-by our hostel, who used to jump the hostel wall and roam around freely in the premises, especially in the evenings. This made it difficult for us to freely open the windows and enjoy fresh air from outside, as we feared the ‘porno’ effect of watching a half naked man standing in front with his shameless glee, and at times throwing stones at our windows whenever he had the ‘uncontrollable’ urge to make someone enjoy the ‘beauty’ of his weak and wrinkled ‘manliness’. Our constant complaints about this were never heard and police help not sought on time as our warden wanted to ‘safeguard’ the reputation of the hostel and not us. Situations went so bad someday later, and one among the girls called police men from her mobile and cried for help. Although they couldn’t arrest the ‘porn star’, he reduced his visits to our hostel. Yet, we lived in fear and never bothered to open the windows, fearing he would come back again.Life in that room was nothing less than hell, but we were fifteen to share our joys and sorrows. Extreme heat, limited power supply, scary surroundings, and no proper food; I stopped revolting against the endless number of struggles, and instead, started adjusting myself to tackling them all to the best of my effort. Injustices were common to all and there was no one to hear our voices, which made me go subtly submissive.There’s yet another shocking fact, and that’s the unreasonable doubt that arouse in our warden’s mind whenever she saw two women walking hand in hand or sitting close by. I think she had this very bad misconception that no two women can be intimate friends unless they are lesbians. I can say this as I have heard saying this about a few girls who were pretty good friends.
I never raised my voice, but started thinking about going back home, and opting for a daily travel, which I knew was not going to be easy. But I felt travelling back and forth in jam-packed buses for about three hours every day would be much easier than living in the hostel.
I went home for a one week vacation, mainly to get my dad’s permission to shift from the hostel. I came back the next Monday and found that our warden had given my place to another ‘favourite’ of hers and kept my bed & other stuffs in a damp place, which made it a cosy home for fungus and mould to live in. When I asked her the reason why she almost destroyed my bed, she said she wanted to give me a ‘better’ room, but didn’t have a place to keep my stuffs until I reach. I couldn’t take-in anymore and vacated on the same day.