It is 11 o’clock in the night; My Girlfriend is watching gossip girl on my laptop, season 4, episode 20.I downloaded it for her, so that sometimes when I am watching just another one of my many arty-farty movie, she can happily enjoy it on her laptop. But strange are the ways of god, now I am being a victim of my own medicine as she is fully into the episode and i have nothing to do but monkey around. Stupid Chuck Bass. Anyways, so what do i do??I look around my shabby dump of a room and my eyes focus on a smilie ball (ya you call it a stress ball) lying comfortably on a pile of hair (hopefully from my scalp). I start hitting the ball against the wall and catching it. As soon as the first couple of these wall-floor-catch routine happens, my neurons transmit an info to my brain and my hands automatically approach a hardbound novel sitting on the pile of books diagonally opposite to the pile of hair(though I underplay it, but aesthetics do have a major influence in my life).
So now begin the game of "let me show Rahul Dravid how to defend a bouncing ball" to"dear Sachin this is how straight drives are played(I am sorry, GOD is great)" to "this is how you move your feet to the swinging ball Sehwag" to perhaps a more appropriate "my economy is better than your’s Sreeshanth". Now, as I am practicing my cover drives and leg glances, I am suddenly transported in my mind to room no 110, connecting block. The class is semi full (read sem-eye, I work for the US now). There are the Avantika Sodhis and Dikshit Sehgals disscussing some major hypothesis in electronics, while I am still to figure out how to make a basic circuit in the lab; there are the distant chattering of the Charlie's angels (Okay, i'll officially name them here: DJ, Aastha and Preeti); looks like a very important discussion is going on there. Then there are the Ganeshs and Diwakars and Avirals who I am not even sure are in the same section as me; there are the the Divyas, the Maliks and the Mittals munching on someone else’s chapattis. But where are the rest of the guys??ohhh shit,they are all around me, just a step or two away, trying to do a one tip one hand as i try to somehow scathe past another ball using the makeshift bat.
All those appeals, cheers and jeers, little frowns, painful blows and the dangerous sprints to snatch the bat out of the last batsman's hands and shout “Oye, I am next” are just some of the most refreshing memories that I have safely locked deep-down somewhere in my heart. These are the memories that I will make my grandchildren listen to making little comic book heroes out of The Anants, The Inders, The Chubhtas, The Baniyas, The Jaamus, The Harshs, The Panjus and others and not to miss the occasional Siddhus shouting out “yaar ek over khel len de bas”. People say, get into a good college for you'll get a nice job with a fat paycheck(Ya right!!), but I say, get into a good college for the diversity of people you’ll meet and the breadth of life you can pick up from them. For these are the moments that will make you suddenly burst into a laugh while your boss lashes out at you for some very “NSITish” blunder that you would have made in your deliverable(this could very well be the beginning of the end to your MNC dream). For these are the moments that would make your heart swell on a lazy Saturday afternoon and make you look forward to the future.
Suddenly I am woken up by a loud thud. As Akshat sitting next to me says, “bach gaya saale, usne dekha nahi”, I can’t even try and explain the reason for my flushed out face and bewildered expression. Was I dreaming? Or is this a dream? I look at everything around and everyone looks just as real as ever. Before I can make any assumption, I hear Batra shout at me "Oye fatta nikaal, chal khelte hain is se pehle ki vo kamina aa jaaye".
As I take stance on the platform, I can still not fathom if I am dreaming. I decide to try the good old method. I press my hand against the nail bulging out of the piece of wood in my hand.
OOOUCH!!!
“Yaar Anant paise milaa ke ek bat hi le aate hain sector 6 se”.
