THE RAGE OF RAG

Almost eighteen years into this world and it was finally time for the eagerly awaited college life. Umm…awaited until that point all right, but when it comes to action stations then the scenario changes somewhat. Enter the fear factor. Well, let’s see; new life- adjustable; new roommates- adjustable; Mess food- yuck!, but I need to slim down anyway; new seniors- errr…excuse me? ; RAGGING- No thank you! (& he faints thereafter…)

Well, there is no such option of ‘none of the above’ in this case. So I had made a positive mindset and prepared myself for the worst.

As we stepped in to the MNNIT premises in the form of its 46th batch, there were no stones left unturned from the side of the administration to protect us from ragging. The first and probably the most comprehensive step was to impose a white uniform as in school. This was supposed to give us a distinct identity and hence protect us from getting camouflaged in the sea of seniors. Our hostel, The Tagore Hostel was already well isolated from the main campus. What else, we had 2 guards at our disposal 24X7. Two for 500 of us, that is.

As we took our first official steps into institute campus in the form of a humongous white line, it took us no time to realize that some of the stones had not been turned properly. The orientation process was pretty clean but the anti-ragging committee meeting with us was not. The committee proved to be contrary to its name. There instructions- just keep your head down(as per rule-watch 3rd button of shirt), wish every senior you come across and address them as sir and ma’am respectively, answer every question he asks, get a military haircut, keep your notebooks in an MNNIT folder and by doing all this, stay safe. Moral of the story-get officially ragged and avoid the unofficial one.

On our way back that Monday evening, we witnessed the ground reality. Thousands of seniors had lined up the path to our hostel and started a pandemonium. We heard abuses from all corners, the dirtiest of them. They forced all of us to keep our heads down and wish them. “Good Evening Sir!” We responded in unison. After that they started handpicking the defaulters. “M**********r where’s your white uniform, were you expecting us to parcel one to you?” , there was victim no. 1. “Son of ***** who asked you to look up, trying to be brave eh? You do that again and I’ll have your eyeballs snatched out.” We were just about to reach the exit gate when one of them approached me. “Where are you from bloody ba****d?” I kept mum. I didn’t even know he was addressing me. How am I supposed to, with my eyes fixed on the concrete path with grass growing through the crevices? “I am asking you, As****e. Are you deaf?” I suspected that it was me who was under the scanner. I quickly replied-“I am sorry sir”. I couldn’t quite understand his next question and hence apologized again, and guess what? He let me go. That was when I realized the power of the word sorry.

Next morning everybody was ready with white uniforms which we had outgrown. It took us some struggle, but we also managed the military cuts and were on our way. Yet again, we were greeted by those familiar abuses. But this time on, I made ample use of my new weapon. “Head down Damn It”-“Sorry Sir”… “Who will wish, idiot?”-“Sorry Sir”… “What’s your name?”-“Sorry Sir”… “Sorry’s your name, dog?”… “Sorry Sir”. It was not fool proof, but it worked as long as I needed it, i.e. Day 3- Wednesday. That was the day when one of us decided that he had had enough, and took the extreme step. We were stunned. The seniors were petrified. Though they were in the clear, the media was quick to point fingers at them.

Well, this was a blessing in disguise for us. No more abuses, no more fear and we had even started breaking the line. Our way of looking at this was that the lad had given too big a sacrifice for the rest of the batch. Although the seniors were quiet, we could tell from their eyes that this was the silence before the storm.

Things settled down to normal after a couple of weeks. The seniors started taking a few risks again and this certainly was not good news for us. We witnessed the next stage of ragging during our preparations for the Fresher’s party. We were like on the house commodities for the seniors. Anybody could catch hold of us in the auditorium and make us do anything. Some were made to act like crows and some like eunuchs. I was a bit lucky in this though. The senior who seized me, forced me to abuse his friend, who in turn returned favor. So I ended up putting them at loggerheads. Not that I was spared. I was then asked to criticize a senior dance instructor’s skills. Well, had there not been such stringent rules, I would have certainly had my first slap from a female.

The final stages of ragging took us to a higher level. Only some unfortunate ones witnessed them. It included get togethers(G.T.) of groups divided on the basis of states and cities of origin and then a group humiliation of the same. Worse than the G.T.’s were the Room Calls in which we freshers were hailed to their seniors’ rooms on a pure draw of luck or bad luck rather. After that, we were totally under the mercy of our seniors. They would make us dance, sing, interview us and grab any possible chance to abuse us for fun. I was the unfortunate scapegoat, twice.

Well, before we could realize that we were in college, a year had already passed by. The tides had pretty obviously changed. We were seniors now and the honors were ours. We had to avenge at least as much as we had ourselves faced. Such was the level of excitation regarding the prospect of ragging our juniors that we had already started practising from the end of first year. Me and one of my friends used to target the resident dog of our hostel. The poor guy was always woken up from his peaceful sleep and fled after getting irritated.

It was finally the first day of second year and about time too, as our patience had started running out. Well, our batch decided to play it safe on the inaugural day owing to all the security beef up and all those talks about a Supreme Court ruling against ragging. So on Tuesday evening a majority of our batch and some of the third years gathered near the Students Activity Centre (SAC) complex after classes, as the first years’ line took that route.

As the line approached, memories of the year that was, had started flashing. All those abuses and taunts were haunting our minds. Everybody was vigilantly scanning each and every rookie in town to shortlist any defaulter or stud or anybody who drew attention. We had started revising all the abuses in our dictionary. Please take note that anybody who knows me must have already guessed that I would not quite have been a part of the collective ‘we’ I am talking of. I was an apprehensive chicken and hence limited myself to inside my hostel premises.

It was already 8 pm and there were no signs of those who had ventured out to officially open the gates of seniority for our batch. My roommate and several of my friends were missing too. We, the survivors had a bad feeling which was only boosted up when we saw a few cars parked in front of the SAC. Well, something was definitely wrong and wrong big time.

It was almost 9 pm when they finally returned, in groups, disgusted, depressed and distraught. Most of them were had verbal abuses all over their tongues. Most of them avoided dinner and went straight to bed. We soon learnt that a really big and bad incident had just marked itself in the pages of MNNIT history.

The SAC Massacre:

There were about an uncharacteristic 150 people in the SAC that evening. Of that figure, only 33% were there with menacing intentions. Most had come for their evening tea, some for genuine purchasing and a few were just attracted to the crowd as is the case in India. No sooner than the first abuse could be delivered, a few final years forced everyone inside the SAC premises citing their safety as a reason. Before anyone could comprehend the scenario, the gates were already shut. Very soon a few cars vroomed in and in came the director, the chief warden and a horde of senior faculty members. They wasted no time and the students were asked to surrender their I-cards, their mobiles were confiscated and then started the characteristic faculty lecture. It very soon transformed into a violent scolding, then into a virtual encounter where dirty abuses and threats were soaring all around the SAC premises. There was no escape. Some tried to allure the canteen owner into their side by concealing the I-cards in his custody. But they too were caught and were looking deeper down the barrel. One of the villainous and shrewd professors also warned them of having to spend the night behind the bars. Nobody would have even imagined that they would be in tears at the age of 20. In 1919 General Dyer did it for the Britishers and unfortunately today, many a Dyers have conquered the nooks and corners of India. Happy Independence Day!

That was a night of embarrassment for many, dejection for most and furor for some. My roommate was one of the innocent ones who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wouldn’t talk and went to bed early. The drama was still not over. There were now rumours of a junior being kidnapped into a senior hostel. So the faculty members were now investigating individual rooms and abusing students for watching movies and not standing up to wish them. With two crammed into a space for one, I guess he expected us to stand on the bed or probably his damn head, a head which they claim has a lot of knowledge; huh!...in their dreams.

One thing that black Tuesday had clearly indicated was the end of the ragging era in our college. We were now scared of even looking at the juniors while they enjoyed the freedom of their lives. No sweat-soaked white dresses, no looking down, no wishing and most importantly no fear. They made the most of that while my batch mates struggled to reclaim their identities which were in those frozen cards. The guys had to hail their parents from as far as Mumbai and Chennai to face the worst humiliations of their parenthood. Well, as that session progressed, the interactions did get on way with the 2008ers, but it lacked the intensity and affability.

The world is round and it was time for yet another batch to script an influx to the top-notch NIT. Only that this time nobody jeopardized their wellbeing. We kept a special eye open to make sure that none of the second years even thought of any notoriety as they had lost their rights to do so. Encore Freshers Freedom it was, as this batch also enjoyed the new ‘clean’ environment inside the campus. The sins of 2007 were the trends of 2009. They wore woodland shoes, flaunted their a-la-mode mobiles and chatted with us like their long lost brothers. While our hostels continued to rot, thousands of rupees were drafted in to set up large anti-ragging hoardings with the infinite consequences enumerated.

As I sit about and complain, I realize that I can do nothing but this. The irony is that some of the super seniors had also said a similar thing-
“You don’t know what ragging is. All that you are facing is a mole in front of the mountain we had encountered. We had to go to the extent of stripping.”
So at the end of the day one has to accept the fact that ragging was the wrong way to the right end. It may instill self-confidence in the guy sooner or later but maybe that’s a matter of choice and need not be imposed. Hence it had been on the decline in the last few years. Criminalizing it may be a bit too harsh, but I guess if it has killed, then that is the status it deserves. So let us all bid a farewell to the pre-college blues. Finally, it seems like our batch’s’ injustice shall remain uncompensated for, i.e. we were the “raggee” but never the “ragger”. Well, we will have to take heart from the hope that there will be a time in the near future when the juniors will start ragging the seniors and we escaped that.