After semester holidays, I was awaiting the commencement of the second semester. Time to meet friends and foes alike!
Alas! Devi was not on my bus anymore. They had changed the bus routes and Mylapore was missed. Loneliness sunk in again,
I went to College BE CSE II sem, only to find that even my class had been shuffled. Devi was not in my class anymore. Luckily, neither was Divya!!
English, Maths, Physics, Chemistry, Digital Principles, Data Structures and the same cycle again and again and again.
I went to Devi’s class for lunch. Otherwise I was lonely. Oh, I adored it, and I made the most of this lonely time to do what I usually love doing – writing Tamil poems.
“ Nilavae, kaarirul padarndha vaanathiley eppadi nadakkindrai thaniyaaga?
Ulagin innalgalal theyndhalum, eppadi valargindrai veguvaaga?
Un nenjil vazhiyum veerathiley, oru thuli iraval thaarai enakkaga“
[Meaning :
Dear Moon,
How do you walk in the dark night through the sky?
In spite of becoming smaller from the pains of the world, how do you manage to regrow yourself?
Please lend me a small part of that courage as an offering.]
First sem exam results were published and as luck would have it, I had cleared all papers. And to add cream to the cake, my total was higher than Divya’s. Thank goodness. I can imagine what her mother would have been telling her if only it had been the other way round. I had actually got an 86%
“Mom, French classes”
“Go study your engineering subjects. We will join French classes in a few weeks”
Wow!! In a few weeks!! Amazing!!
As usual, I shut myself in my little room, surrounded by my close neighbors – books, books and books, and as usual, dreams galore!!
Whom am I staring at? ‘La belle Ferronnière’ herself!!! Unbelievable!!
Welcome to the Louvre – to the “Portrait of an Unknown Woman.”
The sitter gazes out from a dark almost black background. Only her head and shoulders are illuminated by a light from the front, she is almost lit by the viewer’s eyes. Her head turns with a twisting motion to her left and her eyes also gaze to the left complementing the sense of movement within the picture. The features are wonderfully proportioned; Leonardo has achieved an astonishing smoothness of finish in the facial tones. She wears a Spanish costume, popular at the time, and a decoration of beads around her neck. The lower part of the figure is concealed by a parapet; this gives the sitter a little extra depth.
I remember reading a small discussion on this painting in one of my French books. Is she truly a masterpiece of the Vinci himself? or by one of his apprentices? Hey lady, were you a mistress of some great French king –though lawfully wedded to an ironmonger? Were you infested with Syphilis?
Is she that stunningly beautiful? Let me take a better look for a longer angle. Hmm. May be she is, but hey you magnificence, why can’t you smile a little? Why so serious? What’s shrouded behind that severe look of yours? Did the painter ask you to look angry? Hey, say cheese ma’am!!
# # # #
One day, as I was sitting on the bus by myself, thinking of what poem to write next, a girl came smiling at me, said hi and sat next to me. She was plump, fair, beautiful and what not? She did not, in the least look like a South Indian. So, to play safe, I resorted to speak in English.
She said she was Abhinaya, same year, ECE department. Hers was the next stop after mine, and on further chatting realized that she was actually staying quite close to my place.
Just for a clarification I asked, “Do you understand Tamil?” and she burst out laughing outrageously. It took a while for her to control her giggles before she replied: “Naan Tamil dhan!” (I am Tamil)
I found a new bus mate. Abhi would chat on and on and on endlessly as the sky about absolutely anything and everything. Well, I guess some people are naturally gifted with this rare talent, which introverts like me can only dream of.
Second semester...
Only when I entered into the second semester of first year CSE A section classroom did realize that my class had been shuffled.
Lucky me!! Divya wasn’t in my class anymore, but neither was Devi. That really upset me. I was again in alien land.
Same old classes, assignments, home works, and me, not a single friend in my class.
A few people in my class:
“Kutty” Meenakshi – sometimes called ‘kutty’ or ‘meenu kutty’ or ‘kutty meenu’ as per convenience. (Her real name was Meenakshi, we called her ‘kutty’ as she was very short- may be 4ft. 5”). A person with a ‘never say die’ attitude.
Venkatasubramanium : He was a good student, spoke fluent English and was Devi’s school mate
Kokila: A girl who could do anything simultaneously, from sleeping and paying attention in class, to flirting with, and ditching 2-3 guys simultaneously. Yes. You guessed it right. She was a beauty with brains.
Uma Maheshwaran: A very meek boy in the class whom everyone teased. But his stature and height would make him look like a giant, it was nothing at all to worry about! We fondly called him “Umaaaaaa”.
There was a topper in my class. Subhashree was her name - a silent, intelligent girl who had answers to any question from any professor.
In spite of being a topper, she had no head weight and helped everyone generously. If you needed any help, you needed only to ask Subha, and she would do it for you. If you wanted to copy homework, she would share it. It you had any doubts, she would clarify it.
What a wonderful girl she was!
She was as silent as the grave, as calm as the depths of the sea. Wow!! I admired her a lot. I wouldn’t talk much to her though.
One day, Mrs. Smitha walked into my class and asked for nominations for Chess matches during the culturals. I wanted to give my name in, but I didn’t. I was anyway going to lose. Why go and insult myself? I left the matter to rest.
I knew engineering and an IT job was beyond my brain
I started writing short stories and novels when my parents were not noticing. I wrote for my pleasure, to erase the pain of comparing myself with the world, and concluding that I am undoubtedly one of the biggest failures that ever walked on earth. I did not write down my pain of being the ‘everybody’, I wrote encouraging words; words that made me forget my agony and helped me look beyond the world – deep into my dreams.
I treasured them. I knew they were only stories, but every time I read, it brought a smile on my face – not with the feel that I had written my first short story, but reading it made me forget my worries. I felt like the happiest free bird in the world, without a care, exploring the skies without any fear!! I was doing something different from what the crowd is doing. The thought made me feel like God.
One day, I was in a hurry to catch my bus, so, I politely requested Subha to get a printout for me, as she was a hosteller. OMG!! She bluntly refused giving some lame excuses. I was shocked. She never spoke that way to anyone.
Then another day scholar came and requested the same to her, and right in front of me, she politely accepted!
I didn’t understand why she detested me. I had never spoken to her before. I had never hurt her as far as I knew. Then why was she rude to me? Despicable Me!!
To add fuel to the flame, she replied to me in Brahmin dialect. I do not know why she hated me. But, I definitely found a reason to despise her.
Once again, after a week’s time, again, Mrs. Smitha came to class begging people to join in. This time, I thought, “Fine, if no one else is going, lets give it a try”. And I enrolled myself for the match.
Weeks became months… A semester passed by, still no updates on my French. Everytime I asked my mom, she would say, “Oh, I will allow you to join French classes next semester. That’s a promise”.