With great difficulty I got up early next day as per the guidelines and went for jogging with the other boys. It was so hard to wake up until I woke up and then it looked so damn easy. This is the law of Inertia, the same law that Newton had discovered, the same inertia that compels us to wait till the end of our lives for the "right time" to work on our dreams, to make them come true .
We decided to take the longest route from the back of our hostel. Along the sides of the road, there were flame trees with bunches of red flowers. The early morning breeze was pleasant; The sky was faintly gold; Everything was transfixed, only we moved. I felt a deep silence and an absolute clarity of perception. I realized that morning is the best time for making a conversation with self.
We ran across all the eight boys hostels and took the road adjacent to the football ground. We stopped for some time at the NCC building for the smokers had to take some rest and refill their lungs with more smoke. The Girls Hostel was just in front of us.
Utpal was thoughtfully looking at the girls hostel with the cigarette burning between his fingers. Looking at him, I also turned towards the hostel. Gradually, all of us were looking at the girls hostel. That's common in boys, we sometimes do things because we don't know what else to do. Our thoughtful looks actually had nothing inside.
'Today we're going to meet them. Are you not excited?' Utpal asked to break the silence.
We all agreed. His question was as blank as our obvious answers.We were enjoying the blankness of our thoughts in a peaceful morning.
Jahnu however had something else to say: ' What to get excited about? I hate to talk about girls all the time.'
Batuk looked at me with a mysterious smile. I smiled back to acknowledge his smile & the meaning it carried.
After taking some rest we resumed our jogging. The road splits in two at the NCC building. The straight one goes to the girls hostel but we had to take left, towards the college building. From the college building the road again splits in two. Right one could take us out of the college, but we had to take left, towards our hostel.
As scheduled, we got fresh, had breakfast and went to the college together for our first day classes. We were all very excited. All of us went into the respective sections, we belonged to. Nuraz and Utpal were in my section. We sat together in the third row. Soon the class was filled with boys from different hostels. All looked identical - excited, little tensed, in full shirt - pants & a pair of shining shoes and most importantly, they all had the same hair style. We all had to get our hair cut so short that there was nothing to grab onto. It was called "First Year Cut", a part of the induction process followed across all the hostels.
But, we were still waiting for the girls from Hostel#IX. And our wait was finally over with a surprise. Few girls came inside the class. All of them were dressed up in salwar suits, hair soaked in hair oil, big red hibiscus casually put in their hair and most amusingly all of them had different English alphabets written big and in red color on their foreheads.
The entire class room remained silent for a few seconds and then gradually started to murmur. The girls silently took their seats just in front of ours. When few boys were making jokes on them, Nuraz & Utpal told them to remain silent. I was impressed with them for what they did.
Beneath their make up, they were like the other girls who would have loved to dress up beautifully. Even before they came to hostel, they might have thought about what to wear for the big day today. They might have brought their special ladies bags in which they carried mascara, nail polish, shampoo, conditioners, lipsticks and all other items possibly available in the market. They might have thought about matching colors and so they perhaps bought an extra pair of shoes thinking of a particular combination. They might have thought through numerous questions - How should they do their hair? Should they simply let it down or tie into a pony tail? Should they draw their eyes? Should they put on some light color lipstick which wouldn't catch anyone's eyes and yet would do the magic? Which pair of ear rings should they put on? Should the nail polish match with the shoes or a contrast would be more appropriate? Those never ending questions might have boggled their minds and didn't let them sleep. Just when they were partially sure on how to get ready for today, this is what they had been instructed to wear by their seniors.We can never understand what pain they are going through, I thought.
Meanwhile a fellow from another hostel moved from the last row and sat beside Utpal. He introduced himself as Manojit.
'The black board was not very visible from where I sat earlier.' Manojit said to Utpal.
'Oh! I know, this is the best place to look at the board,' Utpal said with a smile. This made us laugh. Manojit had smiled too, but he turned little red.
Suddenly, the class was again silent. A young man had just entered the class. He looked about the same age as our super seniors. Though his appearance looked like a student, his attitude was clearly of a teacher. He dropped his bag on the table and started writing on the black board. We were trying to understand his gesture and just when we began to realize that he had actually started taking the most awaited first class on Electrical Engineering, he had omitted a part of his writing to make some space for writing more. We were wondering at the way of his teaching. I referred the book, it had the exact same thing as what he was writing on the board. We didn't bother to jot down anything like few others did. With every minute of his silent writing, our dreams were breaking down. At the end of 45 minutes of writing, he took out his attendance file and started calling the roll numbers. It was the first time he spoke and made us very clear that he is really serious about attendance. In his words, anyone who regularly misses his classes will curse the day he was born. There can't be any excuse.
'This is bullshit,' Nuraz said. 'I expected our Principal or any Senior Professor would come and give an inspiring lecture followed by wonderful lecture on the subject by an expert who would give us examples from his diverse experiences. I was hoping to learn.' Nuraz sighed. So did many of us. He was right, our very first experience was not even mediocre. Our teacher couldn't inspire us, nor he had something to demonstrate, neither he explained anything and he even didn't bother to tell a word. He just wrote what had already been written.
Gradually the day was moving ahead. Our expectations were low after the first class, so mediocrity had become good for us and good had become great. Expectation can sometimes be painful, it's not the same as hope. We were hoping to gain better education but we were not expecting to receive it from anyone anymore. We knew, one can't expect anything in a desert. We were hoping to educate ourselves.
During the day Manojit got friendly with the girls. It is from him that we got to know that the alphabets they wrote on their foreheads were actually the initials of their names.
'The girl with the letter "P" is beautiful.' Utpal said.
'Yes, She is very pretty,' Nuraz agreed.
However, I knew that they were actually not referring to the same girl as Utpal was looking at the girl on my right while Nuraz was looking at the other "P" tagged girl on my left.
Manojit said: You should see "K", "B" and "A" .... They all are perfect.
Manojit had surely noticed all of them.
The entire class was talking of alphabets that day. As if, alphabets had never been so beautiful.
Even while going back to our hostel, we talked about all the alphabets that appeared on the foreheads across all the sections.
to be continued...
We decided to take the longest route from the back of our hostel. Along the sides of the road, there were flame trees with bunches of red flowers. The early morning breeze was pleasant; The sky was faintly gold; Everything was transfixed, only we moved. I felt a deep silence and an absolute clarity of perception. I realized that morning is the best time for making a conversation with self.
We ran across all the eight boys hostels and took the road adjacent to the football ground. We stopped for some time at the NCC building for the smokers had to take some rest and refill their lungs with more smoke. The Girls Hostel was just in front of us.
Utpal was thoughtfully looking at the girls hostel with the cigarette burning between his fingers. Looking at him, I also turned towards the hostel. Gradually, all of us were looking at the girls hostel. That's common in boys, we sometimes do things because we don't know what else to do. Our thoughtful looks actually had nothing inside.
'Today we're going to meet them. Are you not excited?' Utpal asked to break the silence.
We all agreed. His question was as blank as our obvious answers.We were enjoying the blankness of our thoughts in a peaceful morning.
Jahnu however had something else to say: ' What to get excited about? I hate to talk about girls all the time.'
Batuk looked at me with a mysterious smile. I smiled back to acknowledge his smile & the meaning it carried.
After taking some rest we resumed our jogging. The road splits in two at the NCC building. The straight one goes to the girls hostel but we had to take left, towards the college building. From the college building the road again splits in two. Right one could take us out of the college, but we had to take left, towards our hostel.
As scheduled, we got fresh, had breakfast and went to the college together for our first day classes. We were all very excited. All of us went into the respective sections, we belonged to. Nuraz and Utpal were in my section. We sat together in the third row. Soon the class was filled with boys from different hostels. All looked identical - excited, little tensed, in full shirt - pants & a pair of shining shoes and most importantly, they all had the same hair style. We all had to get our hair cut so short that there was nothing to grab onto. It was called "First Year Cut", a part of the induction process followed across all the hostels.
But, we were still waiting for the girls from Hostel#IX. And our wait was finally over with a surprise. Few girls came inside the class. All of them were dressed up in salwar suits, hair soaked in hair oil, big red hibiscus casually put in their hair and most amusingly all of them had different English alphabets written big and in red color on their foreheads.
The entire class room remained silent for a few seconds and then gradually started to murmur. The girls silently took their seats just in front of ours. When few boys were making jokes on them, Nuraz & Utpal told them to remain silent. I was impressed with them for what they did.
Beneath their make up, they were like the other girls who would have loved to dress up beautifully. Even before they came to hostel, they might have thought about what to wear for the big day today. They might have brought their special ladies bags in which they carried mascara, nail polish, shampoo, conditioners, lipsticks and all other items possibly available in the market. They might have thought about matching colors and so they perhaps bought an extra pair of shoes thinking of a particular combination. They might have thought through numerous questions - How should they do their hair? Should they simply let it down or tie into a pony tail? Should they draw their eyes? Should they put on some light color lipstick which wouldn't catch anyone's eyes and yet would do the magic? Which pair of ear rings should they put on? Should the nail polish match with the shoes or a contrast would be more appropriate? Those never ending questions might have boggled their minds and didn't let them sleep. Just when they were partially sure on how to get ready for today, this is what they had been instructed to wear by their seniors.We can never understand what pain they are going through, I thought.
Meanwhile a fellow from another hostel moved from the last row and sat beside Utpal. He introduced himself as Manojit.
'The black board was not very visible from where I sat earlier.' Manojit said to Utpal.
'Oh! I know, this is the best place to look at the board,' Utpal said with a smile. This made us laugh. Manojit had smiled too, but he turned little red.
Suddenly, the class was again silent. A young man had just entered the class. He looked about the same age as our super seniors. Though his appearance looked like a student, his attitude was clearly of a teacher. He dropped his bag on the table and started writing on the black board. We were trying to understand his gesture and just when we began to realize that he had actually started taking the most awaited first class on Electrical Engineering, he had omitted a part of his writing to make some space for writing more. We were wondering at the way of his teaching. I referred the book, it had the exact same thing as what he was writing on the board. We didn't bother to jot down anything like few others did. With every minute of his silent writing, our dreams were breaking down. At the end of 45 minutes of writing, he took out his attendance file and started calling the roll numbers. It was the first time he spoke and made us very clear that he is really serious about attendance. In his words, anyone who regularly misses his classes will curse the day he was born. There can't be any excuse.
'This is bullshit,' Nuraz said. 'I expected our Principal or any Senior Professor would come and give an inspiring lecture followed by wonderful lecture on the subject by an expert who would give us examples from his diverse experiences. I was hoping to learn.' Nuraz sighed. So did many of us. He was right, our very first experience was not even mediocre. Our teacher couldn't inspire us, nor he had something to demonstrate, neither he explained anything and he even didn't bother to tell a word. He just wrote what had already been written.
Gradually the day was moving ahead. Our expectations were low after the first class, so mediocrity had become good for us and good had become great. Expectation can sometimes be painful, it's not the same as hope. We were hoping to gain better education but we were not expecting to receive it from anyone anymore. We knew, one can't expect anything in a desert. We were hoping to educate ourselves.
During the day Manojit got friendly with the girls. It is from him that we got to know that the alphabets they wrote on their foreheads were actually the initials of their names.
'The girl with the letter "P" is beautiful.' Utpal said.
'Yes, She is very pretty,' Nuraz agreed.
However, I knew that they were actually not referring to the same girl as Utpal was looking at the girl on my right while Nuraz was looking at the other "P" tagged girl on my left.
Manojit said: You should see "K", "B" and "A" .... They all are perfect.
Manojit had surely noticed all of them.
The entire class was talking of alphabets that day. As if, alphabets had never been so beautiful.
Even while going back to our hostel, we talked about all the alphabets that appeared on the foreheads across all the sections.
to be continued...
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