February 2, 2026
Student life is a beautiful blend of curiosity, friendship and growth where everyday brings new lessons both inside and outside the classroom. It is a time of discovering one’s passions, making lifelong memories with friends and learning from mistakes without fear. Free from many adult burdens, student life allows the heart to dream boldly, the mind to explore freely and the spirit to grow with hope and enthusiasm. Student life can be pure comedy – a joyful mix of silly mistakes, endless laughter and carefree moments that turn ordinary days into unforgettable memories. Here, in this piece of writing, I have put down a few of mine ...
A small word ‘MISS’ and endless laughter!
When my dad., a State Government employee, was transferred to Mangalore, my primary school life rolled on into 7th Standard at St Gerosa School, Jeppu, the class being co-educational. New place, new faces, new rules … but one old habit refused to move cities with me. Our class teacher was Flossy Pinto and every time I opened my mouth to address her, out came a confident, loud “MISS!” – the Bangalore-style greeting I was used to for years.
The effect was instant and dramatic. The entire class would explode into a roar of laughter in unison, as if someone had pressed a laughter button. My classmates found it hilarious and even poor Miss Pinto – sorry, Teacher Pinto – couldn’t help chuckling along for a few seconds before regaining control. This wasn’t a one-day special show either. It happened day after day, for nearly two months, turning my innocent slip into a recurring comedy serial. The class would go bonkers at least half a dozen times a day, all thanks to my stubborn tongue that simply refused to upgrade its vocabulary. No matter how hard I tried, the habit stuck like glue and honestly – do you get my point, MISS?
The day I accidentally killed the President (in Class):
In 9th Standard, at St Aloysius High School, Social Studies was taught by Fr Lawrence D’Souza, a priest with a teaching style so organised it could put newsrooms to shame. Every class, he came with neatly prepared charts and without fail, the first item on the agenda was “Current News.” This was our moment to shine – or, in my case, crash spectacularly.
On that day, my benchmate whispered urgently, “Say, the President of India has passed away.” Believing I had just received exclusive breaking news, I stood up in front with full confidence and announced it to the class. What followed was instant pandemonium – half the class burst into uncontrollable laughter while I stood there, wondering why national tragedy had suddenly become comedy hour.
Fr Lawrence was not amused. He looked at me with an expression reserved for students who mistook Social Studies for stand-up comedy. Only then, did it dawn on me – the news was completely fake. I had been fooled by the boy sitting beside me and I had just delivered the most incorrect headline in school history. Somehow, by sheer grace and good fortune, I survived the class, the embarrassment and Father’s glare. Confronting my classmate after the class ended, he mischievously stood by his statement, swearing he had read it in the newspaper in the morning before setting off to school, his eyeballs rolling and wondering between then and now, how come the President turned out alive?
A ‘Crow’ got me sent out of Class:
In my second-year degree at St Aloysius College, Prof. B.S. Raman taught us Accountancy – a subject he wrote books on and a classroom he ruled with absolute zero tolerance for nonsense. It was monsoon at its peak and that particular morning, it was raining ‘koalas and kangaroos.’ Our cries for a ‘rain holiday’ in front of the Principal’s Office went in vain and thus had to reluctantly, get back to attending classes. The rain hammered the hundred-year-old building; the wind howled like it had personal issues and Prof. Raman’s voice struggled heroically against nature’s surround-sound system. Everyone knew one thing very clearly: even a trifle nuisance in his class could get you evicted faster than an incorrect journal entry.
The class was already on edge, as within minutes into his lecture, Prof. Raman had ordered one distracted classmate to pack his bag and leave – just to set the tone. As if on cue, a crow somewhere in the corridor began cawing loudly, adding its own commentary to the lecture. Seated on the extreme left, right next to a wide-open door amongst the rain, the wind and the crow’s concert, my concentration drifted into a poetic trance, composing these lines mentally:
Oh crow! So wet, so dark, so bold,
Why shout your woes in rain, so cold?
Does debit pain your credit soul?
Or is this storm your profit goal?
Just as I was admiring my literary brilliance, I heard Prof. Raman’s unmistakable voice cut through the noise. Pointing straight at me, he announced that I was clearly more interested in that crow than Accountancy – and I could pack my bag and leave (of course). I obeyed instantly, exited with dignity (and speed) and spent the rest of the hour in the College canteen, sipping hot coffee and reflecting deeply about ‘a day in the life of that drenched crow,’ concluding it must have flown away as soon as I got out with one of its missions for the day accomplished.
Law, laughter and impersonators:
On the very first day at SDM Law College, Kodialbail, Mangalore, chaos had already claimed its throne. Some unknown students from other classes came into our class, stood in front, confidently pretending to take the lecture, only to disappear a few minutes later – leaving the rest of us utterly convinced we had been enrolled in a phantom class. None of them were Lecturers, for sure, but who could tell? The confusion was so complete that we were half-prepared to start taking notes from the air itself.
Amidst the chaos, the Principal was alerted and he walked in. Or so we were told later … because at first, we didn’t have a clue who this short gentleman was, though in the noise, I could read his lips screaming that he was the Principal and was conveying something. To our befuddled minds, he just looked like another fake Lecturer. The class collectively froze, unsure whether to stand up, clap or call him out for faking it too. Later, we came to know that the Principal was trying to tell us that the Lecturer who was supposed to take the class was not present that day. Comedy, chaos and confusion – first day, first impression, full marks for madness!
Remembering Fr Dr Leo D’Souza:
During my College years at St Aloysius College, Mangalore, Fr Dr Leo D’Souza was my Principal – a serious personality who seemed lost in his own scientific world. But his brief laughter of 5 seconds is still etched in my mind.
In my final year, I was the Chief of the College Wall Magazine, churning out fortnightly editions with my team from our “Co-Life Den,” a cozy Office tucked under the stairs at the extreme-left corner of the College edifice. Chairs were in short supply, so I had requested two extras for our tiny Headquarters. One evening, after College hours, I bumped into Fr Leo. He led me to a room opposite to his chamber and pointed at two freshly painted bright-blue chairs that were in an open position to have them warning, “Give it a day more to dry off completely before someone sits as they were painted this morning.” I nodded.
Balancing a few files I was carrying in my left hand, I could grab only one chair and started the roughly 300-metre walk to the Den, planning to return for the second. To my surprise, I soon noticed the Principal himself carrying the other chair, following me.
Fast forward: I reached the Den, set my files on the table, simultaneously placed the chair on the ground and – plopped onto the chair to “feel it,” in that split second assuming it was new, totally forgetting they were painted. Disaster! The paint stuck. The Principal’s outstretched hand clearly signalled “Noooooo!,” but it was too late. I scrambled up, the chair still clinging to my back for a moment before releasing itself – seeing my Principal burst into brief laughter, I couldn’t help laughing at my own spectacularly sticky misadventure.
Fr Leo, who passed away on January 20, 2026 ran an extraordinary race. May his noble soul Rest in Peace!
Looking back, the few light-hearted moments I have described capture the true charm of student life – simple, innocent and joyfully unforgettable. They remind me that learning was not just about lessons from books, but also about laughter, relationships and memories that still live on. In those hilarious moments lay the purest form of happiness, making student life a Chapter worth cherishing forever.