As she sat beside me, I could notice heads turning now and again and envious guys’ faces reddening like burnt coal…or lava or magma erupting out of a massive volcano. I wonder how they could run after every pretty damsel. One should have a single aim in mind- and the word “aim” here is replaceable with the word “girl”. You try catching two boats and you’ll drown for sure. But I was aimless, in the context of girls am talking now. Yes aimless since Varshaan left. It had almost been 3.5 years. If you ask me whether I still had feelings for her, I won’t deny. It’s a big Yes! But mind you, the feelings weren’t of love but of HATRED! Immense Hatred! If my feelings of hatred were a tower, they would beat the Sears Tower of Chicago; had they been an ocean- Pacific Ocean could not compete it. If they were nothing but a shameless pop-dancer, Britney or Madonna or Rakhi Sawant would feel abashed. If they were a cruel mother-in-law, they could out-compete Bhoomi’s mother-in-law and murder Bhoomi in a more brutal manner than that Sindhi old woman. Now you would be wondering why I’m making such insane comparisons! But that’s how insane I turn when the thought is about HER! My heart excruciates even at the thought of her. Not only do I hate her, I hate all the things associated with her. I mean I hate all girls clad in suits(she belonged to a strict Muslim family and couldn’t even shed her dupatta); I hate her fav colour :pink ;her favourite ice-cream flavour :Butterscotch ; I despise the extra fair-complexioned (she was whiter than milk and her green veins were visible); her sun-sign: Taurus ;the letter V; the month of May; the date 18 (18 May – her b’day date); Muslims….. I disdain Science students, GSIT-ians, IIM-ians…..I hate them all…coz I hate her..JUST hate her…
‘Excuse me,do you have an extra pen? Mine stopped working.”-said the pretty girl. And thankfully she drew me outside the pool of hatred just in time. “Yup, have this” and I gave her my 2-rupied Saino Silky pen without any feeling of embarrassment. Being poor is no crime. I strongly believe in this conviction.
“Thanks a ton…ehhh”
“Thanks Niket. Am Mitali Mittal. Friends?”
“Friends!”, said I as we shook hands. Evidently, she was a newcomer here and deliberately wanted some good friends. As I didn’t pay much heed to her (how could I provided the hatred pool of Var…no won’t take her name again!), she was impressed and made the initiative for friendship. Strange philosophy of girls- If you run after them, they’ll run away from you. But don’t pay much heed and they’ll come after you. I noticed her. Thank God, she wasn’t extra fair but somewhat wheatish.
The lecture was boring and I could clearly hear some loud snores. “ Huh, neendein nikali jaa rahi hai”, muttered Sir Waseem as he taught AAS 9-Using The Work Of an Expert. The class burst out in laughter and the snoring ones looked up in amazement as if they had just arrived from a different world.
Then there was Business Ethics batch with an imported faculty, that’s how Waseem Sir had introduced him to us. Ladies and Gentleman, hold your breaths. Presenting you the imported faculty from UK(or US OR Canada may be) , tan tana tini ni ni ni ni(the typical Hindi movie background music): Deepal Mooli. “Deepal – that’s a girlish name. You know that Aar-paar song girl
Deepal Shaw? I wonder if he could dance like her”, Mitali chuckled. I nodded. This girl is too talkative. And I was always shy of strangers, at least on the first meet. But she didn’t have the audacity to refer to Deepal Shaw as an item girl, though it seemed she had wished to!
Now we were with Deepal sir as he continually spoke about his audit experiences abroad. He had this cute habit of starting sentences with “Aap aur Hum jab audit pe jaate hai, aap aur hum jab formally communicate karte hai…..”… “You like this AAp aur Hum faculty?”-there she spoke again as she chewed her semi-sandwich and offered me one. I couldn’t deny it. I was damn hungry. And that sandwich smelt yummy too. “Yup, he’s teaching well.”
“ And the fact that he is almost our age makes the class more interesting and interactive. He’ll be taking up AS too”-she added. And this made me think about Manoj Fatafat Sir who taught us Cost accounting. We both chewed the delicious cheese sandwiches bending a bit down so as not to be caught. “You’ve joined Cost batch?”- and Congratulations! Niket Mukherjee at last spoke.
“ Tum bolte bhi ho! ”, she said with a cute smile and two dimples lit her face. “ Well , I’m not a localite. Came from Hyderabad just yesterday.. So no Cost batch as of now.”
“ Oh…you must attend Fatafat Sir’s batch once for a good laugh. He is a good human being, no doubt, and he teaches exceptionally well. But his tone…it resembles a Vividh Bharti radio jockey…so boring that one could instantly fall asleep”- and now I’d finally opened up with the stranger girl.
“That’s funny. Which chapter is he teaching right now?”
“ Reconciliation. And yesterday, we all laughed heartily until our cheeks ached. He made one of his palms a cost book and another a financial one. And there he kept explaining the concepts, moving his palms so funnily that he appeared to me like a drowning man, yelling for help.”-I giggled.
“Oh…I’ve missed the scene”- Mitali
“Don’t worry, a friend of mine has recorded it. I’ll show you after the class.”
“Fatafat Sir also teaches audit at some Marrier Classes. Should we try there too? I mean which one is better?”-Mitali
“Both are good. And it’s ultimately we who have to study, classes are just for guidance. I find Waseem Sir’s teaching methodology more interesting.But Fatafat sir has a good habit of rewinding his tape-I mean he repeats the previous day’s lecture everyday in 1st 10 mins .So you can revise the things in the class itself- less burden at home then…I mean less burden at hostel then for you!”-said I, adding “And I seriously like his serious tone, the way he addresses us- Bachcho….”
That was my first meet with my sweetheart Mitali, the girl I am soon going to marry! I tell you there’s something very magnetic in her. I was so lost talking to her that I forgot the world, forgot I was in a class and forgot Var…even if for a few mins.. Can you believe it : we were scolded thrice by Deepal Sir for not paying attention! And a melodrama that had ensued! He left the class in anger as he spotted us talking again. Everyone glanced at us with It’s-All-Your-Fault looks. We were feeling guilty. So Mitali, I and the entire class descended downstairs to say sorry to Mooli Sir. He agreed after much emotional drama and blackmailing.
What happened next? – Well, curious readers, Mitali and I exchanged cell numbers after class. I showed her Fatafat sir’s MMS (it was circulating faster than the DPS mms) and from strangers, we became friends- good friends.