As I reminisce about my Vani Vihar days, vivid memories flash with spontaneity casting a spell of nostalgia. These memories have accumulated layers of romanticism over the years, blurring the true characters and events behind them. It feels almost surreal – nothing today seems mundane or ordinary about Vani Vihar. These are stories of friends dreaming, striving, competing and laughing together. Each friend is the hero of a story, and each story is a thriller filled with excitement and intense emotions.
Let me narrate just three out of the innumerable stories. The backdrop is mid-eighties, when the political landscape was undergoing tumultuous change and the economic liberalisation was taking early roots.
Story 1: Twist in the Plot
It was early days in Vani Vihar – still time for students to meet, greet and get introduced. While bonds of new friendship were setting in, students were found in tentative groups based on their common undergrad colleges, native places or previous acquaintances. Yet some students had started gaining visibility, thanks to their smart interaction with the shy and nervous students from smaller colleges and towns. Hostel seats were still not available to the freshers, as old students had not yet vacated; their final exams were still to be held. Most of us intending to stay in the hostel were either managing with our local relatives or staying temporarily with seniors in the university hostels.
We got the good news one day – our seniors would formally welcome us in a grand function in the lecture hall. All were excited; a formal introduction session, songs and perhaps jokes were lined up apart from refreshments. Most of us were eagerly waiting for such an occasion to break ice. One extrovert fresher assured that he would deliver a well-prepared vote of thanks on behalf of all newcomers. That sounded great! Soon, the D-day arrived – the Department of Analytical and Applied Economics went into hyper activities. The wall magazine was refreshed with poems written in the freshers’ honour and the corridors were decorated with flowers and posters. The lecture hall was done up as well. Every effort was made to make us feel special.
But a big shock and surprise was waiting to unravel. Suddenly, the news spread about the assassination of Mrs. Indira Gandhi, the then Prime Minister. The country was drawing into chaos and violence. Classes were suspended, and students asked to leave the academic area. We were disappointed – the much-awaited and hyped event in our honour was never to happen.
While the spirits were low in the hostel area, one fresher planned to cheer us up. He quickly collected some money from some friends and planned an impromptu get-together slated later in the evening. He managed to get some bottles of beer, cold drinks, and salted snacks. The party that followed in the evening was set against all odds, but it helped us bond as friends forever. Of course, we sincerely mourned the death of the Prime Minister.
Story 2: Dry Taps
The second story is a tragic one. A student slipped on the staircase and died in a freak accident while carrying a bucket of water from the ground floor. As the news about his death spread, students gathered near the hostel – sad, angry, and curious. It turned out that there was no water in the hostel for several hours due to repeated power outage. Such an incident was perhaps waiting to happen – students started moving towards the Vice Chancellor’s office in protest. Some went to the superintendent’s residence in the campus shouting slogans. Even if there was no social media or internet, news spread all over and the protests swelled. By evening we had many politicians, journalists, social activists making onsite visits; there were promises, speeches and assurances. Even honourable Governor Shri Bishambhar Nath Pande visited the hostel accompanied by top government officials. He was in tears while sharing our grief. Anger of the protesting students subsided.
We knew that the ill-fated student was from a very poor family. An idea came to some of us that we would collect and donate some funds to his family. In a matter of just two days, we could collect a handsome amount from students and from some of the shop owners around the hostel area. I still remember Kartik, who owned a magazine store in front of the Second Hostel. He used to help poor students by lending books and magazines overnight free of charge. ‘Books should not lie idle inside the shop during the night, as no one would come to buy them at that time’ – he would often say. Kartik donated a big sum and blessed all of us in his immaculate style.
I was holding custody of the money along with a fellow batchmate. The problem started when several strangers approached us separately to grab the cash on behalf of the dead student’s family. Someone played his uncle while another pretended to be his cousin. Each one had a convincing story. We were confused but understood how there were sharks everywhere waiting to dig an opportunity in someone else’s misfortune. That was indeed a big learning for us. With the help of a student belonging to his native place, we could finally hand over the cash to the student’s family through a post office savings account. The ill-fated guy was not a great chum being an introvert, but his death had shaken us all. Soon life resumed its pace and so too power outage and dry taps in bathrooms.
Story 3: Creative fete
Vani Vihar was a fertile ground for all kinds of creative endeavour. There were budding poets who loved to stay immersed in deep feelings of love, spirit of revolt, spirituality, and patriotism. It was a treat to participate in the weekly literary meets. There were platforms for intellectual debates and innumerable opportunities to showcase performing art forms.
The story is about four or five students from Vani Vihar who went to Aligarh Muslim University to participate in a youth festival. I was fortunate to be a part of the group. For most of us, it was our first experience of traveling outside Odisha. In fact, boarding a long-distance train was itself a novelty. Once in Aligarh, we participated in many challenging competitions based on just not oratory and debating abilities, but on humour, coordinated communication, and logical speaking on illogical topics. The participation opened a new world of creativity before us. On our return, we meticulously planned and hosted a state-level youth festival at Vani Vihar replicating our learnings. Soon University College of Engineering, Burla also held a youth-fete on a similar format. We were happy to have successfully introduced new dimensions to creative youth engagements in Odisha.
The immense appetite for learning and adaptation was palpable in the campus. The success stories of past batches of students kept inspiring us.
The Bonus Story
The story of Vani Vihar will remain incomplete without a mention of the ‘Students Special’ buses that ran every morning and evening to carry students commuting between Bhubaneswar and Cuttack. The short bus journey everyday was a great source of enjoyment filled with meaningless banters, passive romance, and crazy group activities. On one occasion, the bus was hijacked and taken to Nandan Kanan for an impromptu picnic making the administrative authorities to threaten disciplinary action. What was more common, however, was the sudden stopovers at Pahala for Rasagola parties on our way back. There were instant funders and cheer leaders to make the Pahala affair click every time.
However, a crazy incident took place one summer morning. A Professor of Economics boarded the Students Special at Madhupatna to go to Vani Vihar. This was extremely unusual, as professors do not commute by these buses. Noticing him occupy a seat at the front, students sulked into a gloomy silence. However, the backbenchers quickly plotted a prank. As a strategy, all Economics students were silently moved to the rear end so that they could hide from the professor’s attention. And then the adventure began – few students went near the professor pretending not to recognise him and casually told him, ‘Uncle, this bus is not meant for you; it is for the students of Vani Vihar’. The professor got irritated at this disrespect from the students and shouted with arrogance, ‘What? How dare you? I am a professor – don’t you fools know?’ This is exactly what the students intended – making the professor angry. An argument followed till the bus was made to stop midway and the professor literally jettisoned. Applause and claps greeted the students, who taught a lesson to a professor, who was known to be unfriendly, rude and unreasonable in his dealings with students. The professor must have faced great difficulty in arranging a transport for himself standing in a no-man’s land between Cuttack and Bhubaneswar. To add a perspective, there was no mobile phone, GPS or internet for help!
The mood in the bus was intense, impulsive and emotionally charged. Some students felt sorry for the professor and did not think it was the right thing to do. However. Students Special was known for exaggerated expression of emotions. Few cared for a victim, if at all.
Last Words
I was lucky to attend the annual alumni gathering of our batch recently, decades after having left the campus. I could not associate many of the names of the participants with their current faces, but their sheer presence revived the vibe of our familiar companionship.
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Manoranjan Mishra 