Our Hostel Mess

Our Hostel Mess
I pursued my post-graduation at a university located about 190 kilometres from where I lived. The only option I had was to live in a hostel. I was excited when I came to know about it, even though my parents were apprehensive.
I joined the University and the hostel after completing the necessary formalities. I had a few of my friends from my college days at the university. This made things a little easier, and over time, I made many friends. We learnt that the mess in the hostel was run by a private party, even though the university and the hostel were run by the government. This meant that the students residing in the hostel had to pay for the food. The directions given to the mess in charge was he was supposed to serve breakfast, lunch, a snack in the evening, and dinner. Breakfast included items like idlis, dosa, and poori with a gravy curry. Lunch was dal, rice, and some curry. Snacks were served in the evening, and these included some items that were locally relished. Dinner meant chapatis with some curry. On Sundays, the students who ate non-veg food were served chicken and paneer, and papad was served to the students who ate vegetarian food. The students who used to eat chicken would complain that there was more bone than meat in the curry, and the students who ate vegetarian food said that 1-2 paneer pieces floating in the gravy were all they got. We often ran short of time owing to our classes and assignments, and therefore did not dwell much on the quality of the food.
Mess was the only place where we could get food in the initial days of my stay, as there were no eateries outside the hostel and on the university campus. We used to complain bitterly about the food quality on the days when we discovered little pieces of stone in rice, or when the dal served was too watery, or when the curry seemed to be half-cooked, or when it tasted bland. My mother had thoughtfully packed homemade pickle and spiced lentil powder for me and literally forced me to carry those along, disregarding my protests. She had packed some dry snacks too, as she knew that I liked to munch on these. These proved to be a lifesaver for me, and I was and am really grateful for her thoughtful ways. I had to use the pickle and the powders brought from home carefully so that they would last till I went back home for the holidays. My roommates also brought home-made pickles and dry snack items, as these were the only things that came in handy when we were hungry. We used to share whatever we carried from home, and sometimes shared our stuff with our day scholar friends. Our day scholar friends used to have lunch in the hostel mess as we had practical classes every afternoon following our theory classes in the morning. They could not go back home for lunch as the university was located in the outskirts of the town they lived in, and we had half an hour lunch break.
I can vividly recall how lively the mess was during the lunch hour. Girls would be waiting impatiently in a queue in front of the food counter for food to be served, and ask the server to hurry up, while others would be gobbling away lunch to rush back to class or to finish an incomplete assignment. A few of them did not have classes post-lunch. They would wait till it was less crowded. The girls would chat away as they waited in line, as they had their lunch, or as they waited for the crowd to decrease. They would talk about classes, lessons, assignments, dresses, their day, their parents, siblings, etc. The servers would be running around in the hall serving the girls who asked for second helpings. Sometimes the chatter would rise to a crescendo, so much so that we could barely hear the girl sitting next to us. The mess owner would step in and try to quieten down the din. His pleading would fall on deaf ears. Once, a server came up with an idea of banging the ladle against a steel tray to get the girls to quiet down. His efforts were completely unsuccessful as the chatter resumed after stopping for a few seconds. He threw up his arms in despair and went back to the kitchen!
Breakfast, evening snack, and dinner were relatively quieter times as the hostel dwellers were the only ones who ate in the mess. Chapatis and curry were the staple dinner menu. Usually one of the servers used to shout out when the dinner was ready each evening. This was how we knew that we needed to go to the dining hall. On one instance dinner was delayed and we went down to investigate. We found that the dough was ready, but the chapatis were yet to be rolled out. We stepped in and made balls from the kneaded dough, and a few of us rolled the chapatis. We asked the mess staff to cook it, and lo, chapatis were ready to be served!
Time has flown, and now my son is in a University and lives in a hostel. I relive my hostel days when my son talks about his hostel, his friends, and the mess.