Goodbye!

I have stumbled and fumbled through the corridors. I have scuttled up and down the stairs. I have slept in the classrooms. I have murdered size-zero in the canteen. I have slipped at the gate. I have pretended to study in the reading room. I have borrowed paperbacks of wisdom from the library. I have chatted in the gazebo. I have danced on the stage. I have hosted quizzes in the AVVR. I have faced interviews in the conference room. I have experienced the mucky politics in the student council room. I have clicked pictures in the restroom. I have gossiped in the ladies’ common room. I have sailed paper boats in the ‘quadrangle’. I have lived… a good life.

There were friends. There were foes. There were peals of laughter. There were sullen sighs. There was drama. There was inaction. There were rumours. There were songs. There was counsel. There were harsh words. There was a beautiful bond. There were petty arguments. There was the hot tea. There was the cold chocolate mousse. There was… life.

Still is. There are new happy and shiny faces. They will create their own universe in what was once our universe. Students just out of their school uniforms, like we once were.

The students will make a second home out of the college. The professors will make a college out of the second home.

Create. Repeat. Create. Repeat. Create.

Moron 1: Who do you think will be trying for our team this year, dude?

Moron 2: Guess who won’t be trying.

Moron 1: Umm, who?

Moron 2: Us, idiot. We have graduated.

Moron 1: OMG!

You deserve a better goodbye, college. I will tumble at your gate one day, the way I had, on the very first day. College, we are mad people, no?

Love’s Failed Tales And Affected Accents

I have a curse, a curse that has hitherto effectively thwarted every conscious/unconscious endeavor of anyone who wished to ‘hook me up’.

It all started when I took to making comparisons between the people I met and the people I read. Admittedly, I became more comfortable with the latter than I could ever be with the former. Initially, I pleased myself with the prospect of having two worlds at my disposal- the real and the ‘literary’. What lacked in the real world was automatically provided for by the ‘literary’ world. Every now and then, I would take small vacations to this ‘literary’ world to compensate for the disillusionment that the real world meant.

The point of stating this here is that a few days back I was casually chatting with a friend  about relationships. Of course, she is in one and was all gung-ho about it. Alternatively, I was passing snide remarks on how silly it is to think that one can love at this age. This self-assured, almost prophetic, remark has been born out of seeing many friends falling in and out of love with an acquired ease. Also from the zillion times I had thought that a certain boy is very likable, only to spot his friend and then think that he is terribly likable too. As the conversation ensued, my friend accused me of being addicted to fictional/dead men, so much so that I have always found the ‘real ones’ uninteresting because they did not match up to a certain fancy- either dead or fictional, man I like. I wanted to howl and call it untrue, except I knew that she was right. Therefore, I brushed off her statement by saying something very irrelevant like- “By the way, I need you to help with shopping for an occasion.”

It worked, unlike my zillion crushes. Somewhere I know why none of my crushes worked and none of my affections lasted. I mean, how can I ever compare any of the boys I have met/seen to Oscar Wilde or Professor Humphrey Higgins and get away with it?

Nevertheless, the fact that next year I will be graduating with a degree (hopefully), but not a boyfriend has been hailed as comical by some of friends and me. Everyone always thought that I would be the first one to fall in a relationship and all those who thought that about me, ended up in falling in a relationship themselves. Also, some fell out of it. And all this while, I stayed immune and kept on falling in love with me. Narcissist, all right.

So in sheer devotion to idolatry and because we are such incorrigible bums, a friend of mine and I made, um, a boyfriend application for me. I plan to post it here in near future. Yes, I am implying that the aforementioned curse might make me resort to such tactics. Yes, I am hoping I never resort to those tactics. Nevertheless for now, I have some more time to indulge in how there is a certain charm in T.S Eliot’s timidity toward anything female and that Maud Gonne stays unjustified in rejecting William Butler Yeats’ hotness. Also, I am currently fixating on Bernard Shaw’s Captain Brassbound. Bleh.

…

Has this ever happened to you?

Scene: A class of English literature struggling to understand why Eliot used so much of bird symbolism in his poetry. A professor, whose incorrigibility at speaking English has completely numbed the class, throwing in a word or two in his incomprehensible accent. Suddenly, the bell ends the class and the professor rises from his chair and addresses the class-

Professor- Studaynts, tomaarow we weel start weeth weeger.
A student, who probably hates the professor a lot, suddenly shaken up- Weeger? (Assuming it the name of a poet)What? How? I think we should continue with Eliot.
The professor, a little irked- Aye, weeger, weeger, you understand weeger?
The same student, all the more rebellious- I do not even understand Eliot yet. How should I understand Weeger when we have not been taught anything about him.
The professor- Aye, stupeed. I said weeger. (Spells it out) V-I-G-O-U-R.
The student- (After hearing the professor spell the word) Um, vigour? Yeah, um, vigour.
The professor, triumphantly- Yuss, weeger.

Random Excerpts From College

So an hour back, I was listening to ‘Yaaron’ by KK. It surprises me how I always end up crying when I am listening to this song. It all started four years back. On the last day of our college festival, the last song they played was this. First, the seniors who were to graduate that year started crying because they would miss the college and their friends. Then, the juniors started crying because they would miss the seniors. No sooner we could realize, than we were all crying.

It is the same tradition every year. For the past four years, we all cry on the last day when they play this song. There will be a slight difference this year. I will not be crying because I will miss me seniors. Why? Because I am the senior this time. Even more reasons for me to cry.

**********

I have spent so much on cab rides in the past four years. Seriously, I have. It is a ten-minute walk from Dadar station to my college. Now, it does not hurt anyone to walk that much. Moreover, it definitely hurt me because it is the only time in the entire day when I am involved in some kind of an exercise. However, what amazes me is that I have never taken a cab to rush for lectures. Never really. It is always like this-

SITUATION 1: (Phone Conversation)

ABC: Where are you?

Me: I have just stepped outside Dadar station. You?

ABC: At the bus-stop. We are running late for the first lecture.

Me: Hmmm, yeah. Nevertheless, I will walk it down to college. 5-10 minutes idhar-udhar toh chalta hain na. Taking a cab is silly. I do not even get to sit for a minute. Iss side se chadh kar, uss side se utarna padta hain. Waste of money. Bleh.

ABC: Yeah, you are right. We should not waste money just because we are running late for a lecture. Even I will take the bus today.

SITUATION 2: (Phone Conversation)

ABC: Where are you?

Me: I have just stepped outside Dadar station. You?

ABC: At the bus-stop.

*Me receives a message on the phone*

Me: XYZ texted me right now. They want to bunk the first lecture and have some chai instead.

ABC: Oh great. We will bunk the first lecture then.

Me: And we should not be late for the chai. I am taking a cab to college or I will be late.

ABC: Even I will cab it to college. Stupid bus never arrives on time.

**********

I have lost the count of occasions when I have said to my friends, “You are mad. You know that, don’t you?”

And I have lost the count of occasions when they have said, “Yeah, look who’s talking!”

I believe that whatever this is that we call madness often keeps us sane. At some point, we would have all lost our bearings, had this madness not been there.

It stares at us from the half-empty coffee mugs, hour long conversations, pointless text messages and all the bitching/bickering over cartons of pizza.

It is the voice that shatters the silence of the reading rooms…the silence that ensues silly arguments…the advice that saves you when your a** is on fire…the crash diets that crash in college canteens…the cold stares of a let-down faith…
this madness texts you at the oddest time of the night…it gives you 18 greeting cards on your 18th birthday…it sends you books from book-fairs…it dozes off next to you during lectures… calls you “sugar” when you are nothing like it…remembers all your silly passwords…it fights with you over hot seniors… quotes your rubbish opinions on its blog…on your bad hair day, it tells you, “but beauty is only skin deep”…!

This thing we call madness keeps us all alive…!
It stays there when other people walk in and walk out…!
Just the way Vee says, “it dances with you even after the music stops…!”

**********