I am the emperor of all i see

Time really flies. It seems like yesterday that Subhrangshu Mitra was walking down the hallowed precincts of one of the most reputed colleges in Calcutta, his heart beating faster than usual due to excitement as well as trepidation. His happiness at having gained admission into one of the most sought after colleges in the city was marred by one word that brings fear into the hearts of every new college entrant—ragging. This small town boy had heard horror stories of the humiliation a “fresher” is subjected to during his first few days in the college. It didn’t help matters that Mitra had to seek admission in the boys’ hostel adjoining the college, infamous for its notoriety. What followed in the next 72 hours almost forced this 18 year old to forsake his studies and return home. But this guy was a survivor. He stuck around and those very seniors who had made his life miserable are now his closest pals. Mitra passed the litmus test and is now eyed with considerable respect.
A year down the line he is sitting with a group of friends in the college portico, eyeing the first years trooping down. Some of them look distinctly uncomfortable as if passing through a scanner; some carry with them an air of false bravado. Mitra smirks. He knows exactly the thoughts that can filter through their minds. After all he had been in their shoes only a year back. And he is pretty sure that his seniors had also been scrutinizing their lot as a hunter sizes his prey. The juniors have been asked to assemble in the common room so that the seniors, mostly second years, can get to know them, so as to “break the ice”. Mitra as well as his friends know that the real fun will begin much later, outside the boundaries of the college. What with anti-ragging committees keeping vigil during the new session, stretching the limits of the “getting to know each other” session could get them into serious trouble. However being part of the ruling students union has given Mitra and his friends quite a lot of power.
Around 60 newcomers have been assembled into the room, herded like sheep by the “dadas” who are walking down the room like executioners. Mitra and his comrades enter the room and silence descends like a pall. Mitra had been watching the pretty chick with colored hair for a long time. This one did not seem as intimidated by the proceedings as the rest. He decided that this was the one who had to be taught the first commandment of college life -- “respect your seniors”. The female and another first year guy who looked like he would soil his pants any time were called upon. They were asked to dance to an extremely lewd Bollywood number. Both put up some resistance. Mitra’s friend Bhaskar took the reins in his hands and informed the duo that they would not be allowed to attend their classes if they could not cater to their seniors’ demand for some “harmless” fun. The red faces and the almost crying countenances of the two had Mitra and his friends break out into peals of laughter. More such “bakras” followed.
Its night and the seniors at different wards of the hostel are gearing up for the whole night ragging session. Bottles of alcohol have been emptied and rounds of weed and “charas” have been smoked. After all this is a day to celebrate. A year back these very “seniors” had been ragged mercilessly to provide entertainment to boys a year senior to them. Their privacy had been invaded, the sanctity of their bodies violated. And they had been able to do nothing. But now the tables had turned, the power was theirs and this power; this superiority had to be driven home. The youngsters have to be cowed down; they have to be shown who is the boss. And having survived the “grilling” last year, Mitra is the leader of the group.
The first years of ward number three have been asked to assemble in the dormitory sharp at the stroke of midnight. Mitra and his friends have had a hearty dinner and the group of about 25 “seniors” head towards the destination. He spots a guy in the last row. This one does not look as nervous as the rest. He is called upon and asked to parade the room in a pair of polka-dotted briefs. The guy refuses to oblige and launches into a lecture on the evils of ragging. Mitra knows that breaking down this stubborn “mare” would show the rest that messing with your seniors is not the thing to do. After repeated orders, threats and a few slaps the guy still does not “cooperate”. Mitra notices a few guys gathering courage from their peer’s “heroism”. He knows now that a few slaps and colourful abuses won’t suffice. He lights a cigarette and asks his friends to pin down the arms of the guy and threatens to “design” his handsome face with cigarette burns. This works and the guy walks the room in polka dotted briefs amid jeers and catcalls. Ah! The feeling of euphoria. The point has been driven home. Supremacy has been established. Any feeling of guilt? Not at all. They aren’t doing anything that already hasn’t been done. Moreover why should he alone feel guilty? Whatever is being done is being done as a group, so any sense of individual responsibility has been reduced, rather nullified. He alone isn’t enjoying the feeling of power; the other guys are also feeling like emperors of yore, witnessing the humiliation of lesser powerful fellow humans.
Now that the first blood has been drawn it is time to go for the kill. The “freshers” are asked to drop their trousers. This is the moment every senior waits for. Mitra still remembers the exact moment when he had to strip naked in front of leering seniors and in his heart he still shudders at the total invasion of privacy. No amount of insults and beatings can measure up to sexual subjugation, the humiliation of having their most intimate organs exposed to scrutiny. The seniors have devised a host of activities—the juniors are asked to simulate orgies, to measure the size of each other’s “manhood”, and to take a round of the fields stark naked. Mitra had wondered for the last one year what joy did a 19-20 year old derive by abusing the privacy of guys a year younger than them. Today he understands. As he watches the naked boys running in the fields, fear etched on their faces, he experiences a rush of power, adrenaline shoots through his body. For this one night, he is invincible, he is king.