A Game of Rooms
A cloud of dust settles — the remains of those who have left to higher places. The victors of yesterday’s battle prowl the corridor, decked in masks and spare clothing, wielding brooms. It’s the day after the proclaimed event: the room draw.
Every year, in Pulchowk boys’ hostel, this strange phenomenon occurs. As the claws of winter start to seep in and people start realizing their rooms are actually darned cold, there comes a chance — an opportunity to change rooms or move to an upper floor. On paper the process seems straightforward, if not mundane. Write your and your roommate’s name on a piece of paper. Give it to the guards. Go in when your name is called and then it’s a lottery of the available rooms. But what comes after is equal parts biological, insane and philosophical.
See, the problems arise due to one reason — satisfaction. No one is truly satisfied, much less hostelers. Every individual’s preferences are different, but a few wants are common: unbroken bathrooms, abundance of water and above all — sunlight. Rooms X16-X19 are the most coveted for this reason, they get sunlit from dawn and even a bit at dusk. Block A used to be valuable, but the drought it faced these two months reduced its real estate value drastically. Every room also has a state of deterioration and graffiti-tation. A few people actually draw the rooms they wanted. Shocking, truly. The rest of us unlucky ones have to resort to trade.
It’s not just a solo optimization adventure, however. Politics, friendships, enmity and the acquaintances developed from repetitive nodding at people in halls all matter. Some people give up amazing rooms to be near their friends, while others do the same to get away from folk they can’t stand. Like in any (decent) medieval fantasy world, there be factions. The mechanical and architecture departments are tight-knit, maneuvering aggressively to not be broken into different floors and blocks. The civil department is subdivided into numerous factions, all with their own agendas. The electronics, electrical and computer departments are torn between staying with friends and wanting better rooms.
For such reasons, a frantic trading takes place. The room you drew gets traded once, twice, three times. A single prized rooms gets exchanged for four unwanted ones. Huge chunks of blocks exchange hands rapidly. Some rooms get promised to four different parties, and when all seems to settle down, discovery of this lie again ignites the disputes. All this happens in a couple of hours after the draw.
The next day, a few remaining trades get finished and everyone starts migrating. The whole debacle reminds one of what Darwin explained — the struggle for existence. And in times of conflict like these, what you truly value comes out into the open for everyone to see. It is also slightly poetic that our desires lead to greed which leads to a sub-optimal choice; because if everyone just sat the hell down and communicated calmly, we could actually arrive at a feasible solution that didn’t leave anyone feeling sour.
But such is the human situation. Winners and losers emerge. Those who didn’t get what they wanted compose and adapt themselves to their new home. The victors ride the dopamine for a few days before even that fades and their rooms start rearing their ugly sides. And the war lies dormant, at least until next December rolls around.
