The friendly blanket
After getting a very low rank in IIT-JEE (equivalent to SAT) as well as all other engineering entrance exams, Mohit was devastated. Like a sheep, resigned to the butcher he had lost all hope and knew he would be like million other average, immaterial students at a local engineering institute. “Be aware of the smoking culture in colleges”, “Students in cities are drug addicts”, “Don’t waste your life further by drinking alcohol and visiting pubs”, said his father. Mohit’s father Prakash was someone he looked up, but someone he was utterly disconnected from. His father a humble, hardworking, intelligent man was the first generation to get education till tenth grade. His father came from a very small village, and like all middle-class fathers, had big dreams for his boy. But like many middle-class fathers, he was confused about where to send Mohit for college, and his guiding force was among many things was that young cities tend to corrupt young kids, and he felt “Raja Institute of Technology” a college in rural India, which he believed had much less debauchery that would allow his son to yet again, focus on his studies better.
“I served in the Navy, discipline is utmost important to me,” said the hostel warden Bhosale. “What branch are you in? where are you from?” he inquired. Mohit was the first boy who in his extended family, would be the first to complete a bachelor’s degree. Despite the poor standards, this meant, although he wasn’t sure why he got so much attention, the family felt proud of him. He replied, “computer science and engineering, Mumbai, sir”. “Room number seventeen, I'll be looking after you, but I am also watching you,” said the warden sternly, probably with his prejudice about urban boys that he shared with Prakash. He and the entire family went to his grandfathers' house, which was half a day from the college. After a hectic day, filling forms, standing in the long queues, Mohit lay on the bed, with no hope of going anywhere in life. Nothing was good, his parents would be looked down because of him, he would only burn more of their money now and he stopped believing in himself, wondering how much more shame he would bring to his parents if he does poorly from tomorrow. Tomorrow was the orientation, and only his father would be with him, he knew tomorrow was the day, his hostel days start. There was zero hope, but, anxiety due to the sheer unknowns like not knowing who your roommates are, how to take a dump in a shared toilet, how to share space with two strangers and how to not fuck up in life yet again, kept him sleepless through the night.
The first event in the orientation was awarding of scholarships to students with the highest scores in their entrance exams. The day already started on a bad note, Mohit would be in the audience and his father reminding him how he was a privileged child and yet underprivileged children from villages scored more than him. Nikita was the first one to come on stage, she was the highest among the entire batch of students across the branch. The host of the program took no time to point out how women were now at the helm and competing against men. While Mohit though how happy her parents would be, little did he know that Nikita’s parents spent a lot of money for her IIT-JEE exam as well, and were disappointed by her results. Like Mr Prakash, now they only wanted their child to be away from urban debauchery, closer to home. Nikita believed she had done nothing remarkable and was as traumatized by her score as Mohit. She put up a fake smile, collected the scholarship and left. Mohit spent the next two hours miserably. Mohit wanted to listen as little as possible from his father, he wanted the day to end, the day to end fast.
After the college had completed boasting and overselling itself, it was time for Mohit to bid adieu to his father. It would be his first semester at the hostel. Suddenly, he felt weak, vulnerable. He knew he would walk back into the hostel not knowing anyone, not even one person. His father gave him a hug, gave him some motivation, told him to focus on studies. Mohit almost wanted to break down, cry, but he controlled. His father handed him a blanket to use during the cold nights, told him to call every day, and left. Mohit cried, all his way back till the hostel, suddenly he felt an urge, he realized, his fathers love for him, he remembered how much his father had sacrificed for him. From working overtime for his tuition and hobby classes to getting him any book he demanded. His love was hard, but his love was pure. Mohit realized, even if he was a big failure, his father still had some hope, still did his best and would still support him. He went back determined to at least be sincere and to not let his old man down anymore.
Mohit reached his room, A-17. Sandy lay supine on the bed and Sid was still with his parents, bidding them adieu. Sandy lived in an all-boys military school. So far from women, that he had a heightened sense of smell around girls and paranoia of talking to them. He was finally out of prison and free. Sid, a well-disciplined, fairly rich child had all gadgets to keep himself occupied. Sandy was the talkative, happy-go-lucky and take it easy guy in the house. After a brief Introduction Mohit lay in bed, his blanket reminding him of his fathers love and dedication. As hopeless he was, he still wanted to at least be sincere in his classes tomorrow, to honour his old man.
