When Nostalgia Hits... (My Hostel Days-I)

The other day I was talking to my college junior. She was talking about the perils of being a hostel student. My memories drifted to my hostel days and I thought of the pleasures of being a hostel student. What a life —  mixture of pain and pleasure, cries and laughs, this and that. I still remember the first day at hostel. 
"Thendral"— the majestic name board read. I was this side and my dad was that side of the hostel gate. That was the very first day, I ever saw my father shedding tears. Oh my gosh!!! That too for me! With a heavy heart I waved my hands at him and left to the warden mam's room. 
Megala miss!!!😍 she was there with her usual skeptical eyes. Verifying my data, she mumbled 122! "What miss?", I asked em-puzzled. 
"Room no.122,miss. There... There upstairs– on the first floor – your room", She snorted out impatiently. That's more than enough for a girl who has gone to hostel for the very first time, to be offended. On that day, I didn't know that she would turn out to be a motherly figure for me in the hostel throughout my 11th standard. 
Saying a big embarrassed "Thank you,miss!", I left the place carrying all my luggage and pinky-pinky sling bag to The "Room no.122". 
It was there on the first floor (as she had rightly instructed) next to the washroom. My mother had also accompanied me since it was a girls'hostel. My mom was half tensed and half satisfied— tensed as she had to leave me to be alone for the very first time; satisfied as she loved my room and the amicable(seemingly amicable) room mates. She soon helped me sort out all my belongings on my shelves and spread my mattress on the cot allotted to me. I plastered a smile on my face, seeing my roommates which they replicated.

(To be continued....)