What makes a canteen magical?
Pavithra A
There’s a flock of people in front of the Magis block elevator, everyone rushing to catch a table at the canteen for their whole group. The music inside the elevator was a surprise to many when they entered for the first time. It’s the most common elevator music - a hint of jazz but makes it sounds melancholic for some reason. The elevator ride barely lasts for two minutes but it always feels like an eternity. One can’t say if it’s because of the crowd exceeding the capacity of the machinery or if it’s because one has barely any air to breathe. Thanks to the number of people pushing and squeezing past each other not realizing that their pushing wouldn’t result in the elevator expanding to fit their demands. And if you’re one of the people who enter the canteen to eat lunch during the 12:50 p.m. to 1:50 p.m. break, I wish you luck.
St Joseph’s University’s Magis canteen, simply referred to as ‘Magis’ by many, is like an Ames Illusion Room. Imagine standing in what one would consider a normal-looking rectangular room. If two friends go stand in the two different corners, the third person will see one of them shoot up in size while the second friend is going to shrink in size. This illusion is usually observed through a peephole and is likely to mess with the brain cells in your head. But how can one draw a comparison between the Magis canteen and the Ames Illusion Room? The size of the canteen depends on what time you decide to set foot in it. What may look large and spacious at 2 p.m. might look small and congested at 12:50 p.m.
There’s something satisfying about how the four food stalls at the Magis canteen are located. There are different stalls in each corner of the rectangular room while there is umpteen number of tables and chairs scattered in the gap between the stalls. There’s a sense of cockiness embedded in the morning shift students as we are all able to occupy the 'cleaner' tables and secure our meals before the rush hour. We avoid looking at the swarming crowd at the Dolphin Canteen, where people wait for their dosa and fried rice, solemnly staring at their plates as they might get lost in the sea of humans. But to reach this far, people have to stand in the line forming in the stall next to the Dolphin canteen – the billing area that works as a snack bar with all the packaged goods and tetra pack juices that most mothers would disapprove of.
On some days, we get to hear someone from a nearby table playing the guitar. While the talent is evident, the tune also acts as background music for someone who holds on to their plate of momos, a sign of victory after battling the crowd at the North East Hao’s canteen. I have my doubts about if the uncle at the counter remembers everyone who visits regularly. But, it only feeds into the assumption that once you visit the stall, you’ll always find your way back to the beef biriyani or the wai-wai noodles
.
While each of these stalls has its fair share of huge lines and grumbling students and teachers, Magis canteen isn’t the Magis Canteen without the messy tables scattered with food, plates, and plastic wrappers and covers, the pigeons who make it their life’s mission to excrete on most chairs, the laughter, smiles and screaming and last, but not the least, the black and white cat who seems to forget your existence when there is no food in your hand.
Once, the clock strikes 1:45 pm, you can see the crowd rushing towards the exit as many of the students in the second shift have classes to attend. The canteen is empty again, just like how it was when we walked in after our last class. The Ames Illusion Room is brought back to life in this quick moment where the canteen, which could barely accommodate people less than fifteen minutes ago, felt like the Great Hall of Hogwarts, looking bigger and brighter in every way possible!