Professor Sridhar- Part 1

Yes, I fell in love with another professor in the same college where I fell in love with Vinod ‘Sir’ (Sridhar story happened way before Vinod’s).

There were times when I used to be late to college. One such time, I was under the impression that there was no session because the concerned lecturer was on leave. But when I walked into the class, I saw a really smart-looking man taking a lecture. He saw me at the entrance of the door and asked me to come in. For no reason at all, I was super shy.

His class was excellent. It was interactive, humorous, and engaging. We then had an ‘interview’ session with him (it was supposed to be a faux interview, where he was Yediyurapa and us – the class – were the interviewers). Whatever question I asked him, he refused to answer, and I was soon losing my patience. He noticed my impatience and quickly told me, “Hey, don’t take offence, this is all part of the act.” I gave him a wide grin.

Then came his next session. I was late as usual, but as I was hurrying in, he said, “Aww, I was missing you. Glad you could make it.” I think that was the first time I blushed so much in my entire life. That’s when it all began – the undying love. I was keen to keep in touch with him. Every time we had our computer class, I would log into Gmail, and start chatting with him on Gtalk.

By his next session, we had all taken him for granted, we weren’t listening to him, and he lost his cool. He gathered his stuff and walked out of the class. We were all shocked. I think of the lot, I felt the guiltiest. As soon as I had access to a computer, I pinged him and apologized. He asked me not to worry about it, and then we soon started sharing personal stories. He told me he was a divorcee. His wife was pregnant, and she did not intend to let him see the child. He was sad; I was worried.

Soon I became his confidante, and we spoke every day. Post-grad was coming to an end, and it was time for me to go to Mumbai for my internship. The day before I was supposed to leave, he gave me a call and said he was coming home to meet me. I was flustered. I panicked. I thought I’d had to invite him over to my home, but when he reached, he asked me to meet him at the end. I was ecstatic. We spoke for a few seconds, and then he gifted me some magazines and a bunch of chocolates. He told me that was how I could while away time during my train journey. He also handed me the train schedule and told me I could track the stops through that. I asked him if he’d like to come home, but he declined my offer. We said our goodbyes, and he left.

I still remember that feeling with which I walked back into the building and my home. All I was thinking about was what a gentleman he was. He was courteous, thoughtful, and generous. Little did I know that rascal (I say ‘rascal’ in a pleasant friendly manner) knew precisely what he was doing and was well aware that he had successfully planted his plan in my mind.

#men will be men

11th Grade

When I completed 10th grade, my brother infused a lot of excitement in me about the great advent of the unforgettable college days. I honestly didn’t care much back then, because, for me, the college was just 5-odd years of studies. It didn’t make that big a difference. I had another problem – clothing. I didn’t have much, and I was embarrassed. Nevertheless, the college years began.

And it was awesome.

I know this may sound weird, but I feel like the weather through 11th grade was terrific. It was always pleasant and gay. It felt surreal. It smelled of freedom because that year was one of the best. We were the first ARTS batch in the college. Since there were very few of us, we were given a small room on the college’s terrace. But we loved it. It was almost like we were studying out in the open. The trees around made sure that every time we stepped out of the room for a break onto the terrace, we were welcomed with cool breeze even through the hot summers.

The best part of it all was that we had only four hours of classes—morning from 7.30 to 11.30. But I told my mum that the classes ended at 3.30 pm. So I had a whole 4 hours of fun every day before I got home. Our break time was 9.30. It was a short break time – just about 15 minutes. During the break, we would all try to run down five floors to the basement, ordering vegetable-grilled sandwiches and choco pies.

The run-down used to be funny. We would push, nudge, and try to meander through the immense crowd to ensure that we return to class on time. Often, the group was so thick that we were moved from floor to floor, just floating in the thrust of the crowd. Our feet would honestly not even be on the floor; we would be moved around like invisible angels carrying us from floor to floor.

I had taken up History, Economics, Political Science, and Sociology as the four arts subjects. And man, I did well in them all. I also made some excellent friends. We had such good times that I wish I could go back to those days and stay there in limbo.

#When will someone create a time machine?

When Your Blood Group Is B+ But You Just Can’t Be Positive.

We have people all around us harping about the importance of being positive. If you are down in the dumps, be positive. If you are going through hell at home, be positive. If you don’t have a job, be positive. If you are ill, be positive. If you are struggling at work because your teammates suck, be positive.

But does that work? The answer is a big hard NO.

Even the ones who yak about being positive go through massive phases of negativity. Because that’s what negativity does. It seeps through those little crevices of apprehension and creates havoc. Then gradually hell opens up and your mind is ablaze with self-doubt, loathing, and you know the drill.

So yeah, telling someone to be positive is just not the right thing to say, because you will never know the troubles the person is going through, just as no one will know the hardships you have gone through in life.