Engineering Hostel Classic: The 3 AM Dhaba Run

There are nights in hostel life that begin as ordinary and end up etched in memory — not because something grand happened, but because something ridiculous did.

It was around 8:30 PM in our engineering hostel room — our 'mini theatre,' where that CRT had played everything from Chak De India to Troy.

Below the book is our 'mini theatre' CRT

That night, someone had passed around a pen drive with a fresh copy of Jannat 2. I just came back from dinner and thought, 'Why not?' My roommate joined in too, saying he'd watch for 'just 15–20 minutes' before heading to dinner.

Well, that '15 minutes' turned into the entire movie — and dinner became a distant dream.

By 2 AM, Nikhil realized he was starving and our room had zero food stock, not even a forgotten Maggi packet — the kind of crisis every hostelite understands.

He looked at me with that engineering hostel emergency face and said, 'Rohan, chalo, let’s go to the dhaba near the medical college.'

The Hostel

Now, this dhaba was about 5 km away — 4 km on NH3 highway and then 1 km inside a smaller road.

At 2 AM, that distance feels equal to an expedition, but somehow, in hostel life, such plans always sound exciting.

So, we rode off into the night. Cool breeze, empty highway, and the thrill of a secret food hunt — life was simple, and happiness came fried with extra onions.

My roommate finally got his midnight feast while I sipped chai, watching truck lights fade into the distance. Life was peaceful — until karma asked for its cut.

While returning around 3 AM, Just a few minutes into the highway, the bike started coughing.

He looked down, paused, and muttered the words that can drain your soul at 3 in the night: 'Petrol sampla.'

Perfect timing!

We were about 3 km away from the hostel. Thankfully, the road tilted slightly downhill toward campus — so for the first 1 km, we coasted smoothly, powered by gravity and regret.

After that, it was manual labor — pushing the bike through the silent highway night.

Now, here’s where it got funnier (and scarier).

If we took the main highway, there was a chance patrolling police might spot two engineering students pushing a bike at 3 AM — guaranteed drama.

If we took the service road, it was home to the street dogs of doom — the real kings of the night.

We looked at each other, laughed helplessly, and kept pushing — whispering 'please don’t bark' every time we heard a sound in the dark.

We chose a mix of both — half caution, half stupidity — and kept pushing, whispering prayers and laughing at our fate.

Hiking boots!

We had no idea how descending this fort top was gonna be, eventually we realized getting on top was optional but now getting down is mandatory.

It all began that afternoon at 'Blue Airport' — our college’s unofficial waiting area, where those blue cushioned chairs had seen everything from last-minute assignments to random laughter. We were just sitting there, doing nothing in particular, when someone suddenly said, 'Let’s go to Ramshej Fort!' And as it happens in college, one random idea quickly became a solid plan.

Within minutes, we pulled our bikes out of the parking and hit the road — no hiking shoes, no water bottles, no proper planning. Just the pure thrill of an unplanned adventure. The weather was perfect, the road was open, and the feeling was that typical 'Engineering last years' vibe — when every small plan somehow turns into a lifelong memory.

We stopped at a small shop to grab some snacks — Vada pav and cold drinks — calling it 'food for the top.' The hike itself was fun. None of us were serious trekkers, but that didn’t stop us. Between the endless teasing, photo breaks, and dramatic pauses where someone would say 'Bas yaar, last 5 minutes!' (for the tenth time), we easily made it to the top.

And once we did — wow. The view was breathtaking. The wind, the calm, and that quiet sense of achievement made it all worth it. We sat there for some time, exploring the most adventurous cliffs at the top, the fort gates, and the water storage area — perfect spots for a photoshoot. Quirky photo capturing began. Clicks, poses, funny faces, and a lot of teasing — the fort top was buzzing with chaos as we went around trying to capture all the crazy shots we could.

But then came the real challenge — the descent. What looked easy on the way up turned into a slippery puzzle on the way down. The rocks were loose, the path uneven, and every step felt like it had its own surprise. We don’t know if the descent road was really that difficult or if we had just taken the wrong path, but suddenly it felt impossible. Even though we weren’t vloggers, it became such a challenge that all you could hear in the audio of our recorded videos were abusive kinda words! One small slip and you’d suddenly invent a new dance move. We held onto each other, laughing and slipping our way down like a slow rescue squad. And that’s when we realized — those fancy, heavy woodland shoes? Totally useless for sliding down a fort!

At one steep patch, we actually debated whether to sit and slide — and yes, a few of us did exactly that! Some of us even ran down, and once we reached a kinda safe stretch of the slope, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Dusty jeans, scraped elbows, and laughter that just wouldn’t stop — that’s how we made our way to the base.

By the time we reached back, our legs were trembling, our clothes were messy, and our shoes had officially retired from service. But our hearts? Full.

Engineering - Final Year

It was a training and placement meeting on a bright, hot day in May, and the clocks were striking eleven.

Students were present in good numbers — maybe they were serious about their careers, or maybe they had already started missing college. Just two days ago, we had finished our TE exams, and suddenly came the realization that only one year was left. A slight seriousness was in the air — this was the beginning of professional life. Many of us had already set our focus on projects, and everyone seemed excited to chase their dreams.

The final year of engineering — it sounds grand, but it carries its own mix of emotions. Between project reviews, campus drives, and late-night submissions, there’s an invisible thread tying us together. We knew we were at the edge of something — the end of an era and the start of something new.

The hostel at 1 AM - Engineering submission grind in full swing, deadlines turning it into a battleground.

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to be published