Yesterday marked the end of my first
month away from home and hence, ideally, yesterday is when you should
have been reading this. However, that is how life is in denizens.
It's implausible, if not entire impossible, to stick to a Sheldonian
schedule here.
As I write this, there is a freshers'
party scheduled for our batch tonight. We've been instructed not to
carry our cameras along. Things are expected to get a bit naughty.
If you are an introvert, a B School is
the last place you would want to see yourself in. Every event, every
activity, is aimed at squeezing out the last remaining shreds of
personal space that, you think, is entirely yours. Every Professor
(Prof, as they call them here), brings along a teaching assistant
whose sole purpose is to ascertain and adjudicate how vocal you are
during the lecture. You have to speak. And that is what most of us
do. During our induction, the Admission Chairperson gave a mantra
which is probably on the top of every pin up board in all hostel
rooms: 'Underestimate everyone, but never underestimate your
batch-mates'. One month later, I have begun to understand the nuances
of his statement. You might score 13 out of 14 in a quiz, yet, in all
likelihood, may find yourself lowering the class average. During a
lecture, you might say something really ingenious, yet end up
chagrined with the long forgotten sheepish smile following suit. Yet,
outside the class, you discover among your classmates, some of the
best people you have ever met during your lifetime.
Before and after, comes the hostel. For
some reason, your towels and innerwear always hog the balcony
railings; the pair of Jeans that you wore to class last to last
morning, this morning, and by the looks of it, tomorrows morning,
always finds a nice little spot on your chair; your bedsheets are
always in need of botox, your socks' permanent address bears the name
of your Adidas and Hush Puppies; your formal shirts and trousers have
been out of your closet for at least a week, and finally, the study
lamp in front of you has been facing the side walls since the last
time you turned it on.
Besides, some of the theorems, which
you thought were axioms, have indeed been proven wrong. The water
bottle on your table doesn't get automatically filled overnight. If
you fall asleep on your chair, you do not find yourself in the bed
next morning. And if you do lie down on your bed, and the mercury dips
during the night, the folded blanket remains inertial till the next
morning. If you are getting late for breakfast, the paratha and the
glass of milk would not automatically zero down beside your bed. If
you leave your clothes in the bathroom, they remain there till the
next day. The floor does not get cleaned and mopped automatically.
Your wallet broke up with the mystery benefactor long ago. 9:40 comes
and goes, yet you hear no car approach, no footsteps, no doorbell.
You see faces, lots and lots of them.
You look at them and you smile. Yet, the absence of faces that you
looked at and grinned is conspicuous.
It's good that we have a party this
evening. When the clock strikes 9:40 tonight, I think I will have
enough faces around to let my mind digress to cars, footsteps, doors
and doorbells.