The alarm bell rings at 7.45 am to stir me up for the morning Maths lecture at 8.30 in the college. Sometimes, I switch it off to let the pirates (in my dream) conquer the crammed ship. I ask for a five minutes extension but, that somehow multiplies to thirty minutes. Then, I brush. I wash my face. I comb. I do not bathe. I sprinkle the Axe deodorant all over my body believing in their advertisement. I stuff one register into my bag and leave. As soon as I lock the door of my flat, I pray to Sir Usain Bolt (the fastest man on earth) to give his strength for the next five minutes. I run as if I am on the track to win gold in the Olympics. The gatekeepers in the college ask for the I-Card and I show to them with an attitude of an Investigative Officer and enter the college of high heel girls and built up muscular guys. Breathe. I run again to reach the class which is unfortunately on the second floor.
8.45 am.
‘Ma’am, May I come in?’
‘No. You may not. You are late.’
And, then I wished I could have slept for that half an hour more and enjoyed the invasion of the pirates in my crooked dream. The day would have been much more pleasing! Then, the canteen’s tea and samosa calls me in for the breakfast. The round little brown samosas are the savior for my morning hunger. I see my friends in the corner table fighting over a plate of Chowmein. They discuss about some assignment that is to be submitted in the next lecture and which I have, obviously, failed to complete. I console myself and searched for an excuse.
‘Sir, I had an appointment with the doctor. I was ill.’
‘You seem all hale and hearty. This excuse won’t even work in 1980s. Out.’
‘But, Sir?’
‘2015, Out.’ He pauses. ‘I said, OUT!’
And, then, I felt sorry for the pirate in my dream whose adventures were far more interesting and engrossing than the ‘Fiscal and Monetary Policies of the RBI.’
I come back from the college after all the boring lectures and society practices. Midway to the world of my afternoon nap, the door bell rings.
‘Bhaiya! Newspaper ka paisa de do!’
'Kal le lena. Abhi nahi hai.’
And I shut the door pitying over ‘The Hindu’ which I never manage to read. As I take a step forward for the cosy bed, the door bell rings again. I open it.
‘Bhaiya! Khane me kya bana doon?’
'Dal aur sabji’
‘Bhaiya! Sabji toh hai nahi.’
‘Le ke aata hoon.’
Unlike the other days which go by ignoring the lunch, I stuffed my wallet in the pocket and ran to get the vegetables. I get all the vegetables required for the week. It costs 150 bucks. I search for the money in the wallet and realize that, the beer last night had eaten up the junk. I rush to the ATM. Get the money. Give it to the vendor who gives me a wicked smile. I smile back and rush. I reach the flat and give the vegetables to the chef, who with a decorated smirk, taunts that I had disrupted his planned schedule.
The day goes by, restless, twitchy and agitated. Sometimes, I run after the DTC Bus to get in. Sometimes, I fail to get down at the desired stop in a DTC Bus due to overcrowded population. Sometimes, I reach late for filling forms of a gas connection. Sometimes, I sit on the floor of the metro and get caught by the security guards. And, many a times, I fail to manage my finances due to more night-outs and increasing house rents and bills.
When the weather is breezy, I walk in the park in the evening. I wish for my mom’s agonized taunts that used to wake me up for the morning classes during school days. I wish my dad could see the doctor for me and get my medicines so that I could complete my assignments. I wish I knew the reason behind the wicked smile of the vegetable vendor who has probably charged me more. I wish to be at ‘my’ home, lay lazy with Jason Mraz music and enjoy the luxuries. I wish to munch Grilled Sandwiches and Chicken Curry instead of samosa and dal as my staples. I wish for the free flow of funds that I enjoyed in my hometown.
8.45 am.
‘Ma’am, May I come in?’
‘No. You may not. You are late.’
And, then I wished I could have slept for that half an hour more and enjoyed the invasion of the pirates in my crooked dream. The day would have been much more pleasing! Then, the canteen’s tea and samosa calls me in for the breakfast. The round little brown samosas are the savior for my morning hunger. I see my friends in the corner table fighting over a plate of Chowmein. They discuss about some assignment that is to be submitted in the next lecture and which I have, obviously, failed to complete. I console myself and searched for an excuse.
‘Sir, I had an appointment with the doctor. I was ill.’
‘You seem all hale and hearty. This excuse won’t even work in 1980s. Out.’
‘But, Sir?’
‘2015, Out.’ He pauses. ‘I said, OUT!’
And, then, I felt sorry for the pirate in my dream whose adventures were far more interesting and engrossing than the ‘Fiscal and Monetary Policies of the RBI.’
I come back from the college after all the boring lectures and society practices. Midway to the world of my afternoon nap, the door bell rings.
‘Bhaiya! Newspaper ka paisa de do!’
'Kal le lena. Abhi nahi hai.’
And I shut the door pitying over ‘The Hindu’ which I never manage to read. As I take a step forward for the cosy bed, the door bell rings again. I open it.
‘Bhaiya! Khane me kya bana doon?’
'Dal aur sabji’
‘Bhaiya! Sabji toh hai nahi.’
‘Le ke aata hoon.’
Unlike the other days which go by ignoring the lunch, I stuffed my wallet in the pocket and ran to get the vegetables. I get all the vegetables required for the week. It costs 150 bucks. I search for the money in the wallet and realize that, the beer last night had eaten up the junk. I rush to the ATM. Get the money. Give it to the vendor who gives me a wicked smile. I smile back and rush. I reach the flat and give the vegetables to the chef, who with a decorated smirk, taunts that I had disrupted his planned schedule.
The day goes by, restless, twitchy and agitated. Sometimes, I run after the DTC Bus to get in. Sometimes, I fail to get down at the desired stop in a DTC Bus due to overcrowded population. Sometimes, I reach late for filling forms of a gas connection. Sometimes, I sit on the floor of the metro and get caught by the security guards. And, many a times, I fail to manage my finances due to more night-outs and increasing house rents and bills.
When the weather is breezy, I walk in the park in the evening. I wish for my mom’s agonized taunts that used to wake me up for the morning classes during school days. I wish my dad could see the doctor for me and get my medicines so that I could complete my assignments. I wish I knew the reason behind the wicked smile of the vegetable vendor who has probably charged me more. I wish to be at ‘my’ home, lay lazy with Jason Mraz music and enjoy the luxuries. I wish to munch Grilled Sandwiches and Chicken Curry instead of samosa and dal as my staples. I wish for the free flow of funds that I enjoyed in my hometown.
In the night, as I sit at my study desk to study for my test the next day, I flip the two hundred pages of John Garle’s ’Rise of Capitalism.’ Suddenly, I look at the Superman T-Shirt I was wearing. It read-
‘I Ain't SUPERMAN. Lemme Sleep!’
I close my book and go off to sleep wondering about the adventures of tomorrow. I set my alarm to 7.45 am which would probably be a useless attempt but gives me unknown satisfaction. As I close my eyes, the pirates invade!
May the odds be ever in my favor.
Night.
- A DU Outstation Student
University Express
‘I Ain't SUPERMAN. Lemme Sleep!’
I close my book and go off to sleep wondering about the adventures of tomorrow. I set my alarm to 7.45 am which would probably be a useless attempt but gives me unknown satisfaction. As I close my eyes, the pirates invade!
May the odds be ever in my favor.
Night.
- A DU Outstation Student
University Express
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