It was the first day of college. I was scared. I woke up early in the morning, but my mind kept racing—How am I going to face the others? What will they think of me?
I called my mother. She was busy, getting ready to go to the hospital to see my father. But she still answered my call. While she was getting ready, I told her,
“Today is my first day of college, Ma… I’m really scared.”
She tried to calm me down.
“Please behave well, don’t overthink. Just go with the flow.”
After that, we spoke about usual things, but she was clearly in a hurry.
“I’ll call you later, Vinoth… I’m getting late.”
She cut the call.
I looked out the window. Slowly, students were arriving at college. I started getting ready—it took me about 30 minutes. I bathed, changed, and stepped out of the room. That’s when a senior saw me and shouted loudly.
I got scared. He told me to stop. I stood frozen as he came toward me. He was lean, had mid-length hair, and looked very confident—like someone who knew everything.
“First year?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied nervously.
“Where are you from?”
“Tamil Nadu.”
“Oh, so you’re Tamilian, huh? Okay. I’m Harshavardhan, but people call me Harsha. I’m a 4th-year mechanical engineering student.”
I introduced myself.
“I’m Vinoth, 1st year, biotechnology.”
He shook my hand.
“Superman!” he laughed and patted my shoulder.
“Where are you going now?”
“Canteen,” I replied.
“Okay, come. Let’s go together.”
I was still scared, walking beside him. Maybe he sensed it.
“Why do you look so scared, man? Chill out.”
I tried, but I couldn’t relax completely. I handed over my room key to the warden. He asked for my ID card. I had forgotten it in the room. I rushed back to get it.
Harsha said,
“Meet me at the canteen, okay?”
I nodded and hurried off, fetched my ID, calmed myself down a bit, locked the room, and gave the key back to the warden before heading to the canteen.
Canteen
I wasn’t expecting such a huge crowd in the canteen. Boys and girls were present in equal numbers. The seniors were having fun, enjoying their food.
I looked around for Harsha, but the canteen was so big I couldn’t find him. I scanned my ID card, got my token, and handed it at the counter. They gave me breakfast.
I held my plate and scanned the room for a place to sit. I finally spotted a table with two North Indian boys and joined them. As I ate, I saw Harsha at another table, surrounded by girls. I hid my face, hoping he wouldn’t see me.
One of the North Indian boys asked me something in Hindi. I didn’t understand. Then he switched to English.
“Where do we go next?”
“Auditorium,” I replied.
“Thanks, brother! Do you know where it is?”
I said yes, but I didn’t know how to explain in English.
“Wait, I’m going to the auditorium too. Let’s go together.”
After finishing our food and keeping the plates in the cleaning area, we washed our hands and walked together. I remembered the auditorium from the day before—it was about 800 meters away.
When we arrived, the hall was already full. The North Indian guys found their senior friends and joined them. I stood alone. I wanted to sit at the back, but those seats were already taken, so I chose a middle row where one seat was still empty.
The program began. It was dark. The principal gave a speech about college life, academics, and personal development. It was an interesting talk, but some seniors were making fun of him. A group of girls sitting next to me were trolling the principal and giggling.
Later, awards were distributed to the best students of the previous year. A video about the college was shown. The entire program lasted for about an hour. Finally, they announced that we should go to our respective classrooms.
The Girls’ Conversation
As everyone exited, I overheard a group of senior girls discussing their plans.
“Let’s go to the mall or hang out at our friend’s place,” one said.
“No, I’m going to class. New students have arrived—let’s go choose some boys!” another teased.
Some girls laughed and agreed, while others still wanted to go for a movie instead. Eventually, they all decided to head to the classroom.
I quietly listened and followed behind them. I took my bag, came out of the auditorium, and found my classroom easily, thanks to the AV video that showed the map clearly.
Some students were already there. I chose a middle row seat, thinking it was safest. Soon, a few Bangalore boys came and sat next to me. We introduced ourselves. One of them immediately guessed I was Tamilian.
The class filled up—42 students in total: 22 girls and 20 boys.
Our class teacher, Leelavathi Madam, entered and introduced herself. Then she asked each of us to introduce ourselves.
I got nervous watching how confidently the girls spoke.
“Divya from Bangalore, I want to be an IT engineer in the USA.”
“Sandhya from Bangalore,” and so on…
Then it was the boys’ turn. The boy next to me said,
“I’m Mithun, from Bangalore.”
The other said,
“I’m Aparajith, from Bangalore.”
Now it was my turn.
Don’t get confused. Don’t get confused… I kept repeating to myself.
I stood up. But just then, a new student entered the class. Leelavathi Madam paused and asked her to introduce herself. She did, then sat down.
I was still standing.
“Sorry! Please continue,” Madam said.
“I’m Vinoth, from Tamil Nadu,” I began.
“Where in Tamil Nadu?” she asked.
“Sivagangai.”
She didn’t know the place.
“Where is that near?” she asked.
I replied,
“It’s very close to Madurai.”
Now she recognized it and smiled. I sat down, and the rest continued.
Lunch Break
During lunch, I returned to the canteen. This time, a few girls from my class came and sat next to me. I was shocked. I had never mingled with girls before. I froze, unsure how to respond.
One of them asked me my name.
“Vinoth,” I replied.
They waited for me to ask their names, but I didn’t. They must have thought I was rude.
When the break was over, I returned to class. That same girl looked at me and gave me a strange expression. I realized I might have made a mistake by not interacting properly.
I sat in the same place. Class resumed. All I could think about was—I want to study well and get good marks.
At 3 PM, college ended. Students started forming groups and making friends. The two Bangalore boys had already bonded, but I was still alone.
Back to Hostel
I walked back to the hostel. A new guy was in my room—a muscular guy named P.V. Thilak from the Computer Science department. He looked mature, rich, and confident.
He introduced himself:
“I’m from Mysore. Political background family.”
We got along quickly.
“You’re Vinoth, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I like you, man. If I didn’t, there’s be a problem. I need my space, and I make my own decisions.”
I realized we were very different. I was someone who lived the life given to me. P.V Thilak lived the life he chose.
He spoke a lot about his life.
“My father made me come to Bangalore. I wanted to study in Mysore, but he challenged me—‘Complete your degree in Bangalore and I’ll give you a post in the political party.’ So, I came here. I want to be a politician.”
That was new for me. I had never heard anyone say they wanted to be a politician. I was genuinely surprised and curious.
Later, we both freshened up and went to the canteen for dinner.
Call to Mom
I called my mother and told her everything about my first day. We spoke for 30 minutes. After that call, I felt a lot better.
Next Episode: Understanding Bangalore and College Life