Memoir

Day 1

I rushed to the cell-phone to call him up, but as I opened the flap of its cover, “11.55” glared at me on the face. Bloody Blundaleomite, what now!?

George – my childhood buddy and my best friend – We were always there for each other. He would do absolutely anything for me even at the darkest hour of night, and I had no shame in exploiting that right. Yesterday too I called him up at 11.30 pm to ask if he had read any review of “Happy New Year” and we ended up conducting a 2 hour virtual convention of the history of “SRK Cinema – How it fares against the rest of Bollywood”, accompanied by guest lectures on “How to succeed even if you have no talent” and “Why you fail even when you are bloody talented!” Yeah, the talk was a vulgar waste of time – But! the point is that I can use him like how an Iphone owner uses Siri. Well, the consequences did follow today morning.

My class starts at 6 am. I woke up at 6.10.

I remember very little of what happened today morning, just a few fragments of memory. Like, I remembering running outside my house and slapping my forehead when I reached the main-road – only then did I realise that I hadn’t brushed my teeth that morning. I also remember jumping, Literally Jumping into the first auto rickshaw that came my way, shouting “Mylapore! Quick! Take whatever you want!” Trust me, the most stupid thing you want to tell an auto-rickshaw driver in Chennai.

But from the second I reached class, each memory is as clear as crystal – unmarred by even the lightest finger-print. I stood outside the door peaking inside to know where I could find place to sit. Classes are usually full by 5.55 itself – Translation, “I was DOOMED!” I tenderly walked inside the classroom, squeezing myself between the desks, looking for the slightest gap in farthest corner and finding absolutely no luck. Within 4 minutes I had completely run the teaching faculty off his patience. A shockwave passed through my body as I heard, “Aye! YOU!”

Slowly, helplessly, I turned to face my guru – not such a good sight. But he was a nice man, before I could come up with a story he shouted, “What do you think you are doing disturbing the class and spoiling my lecture! Settle down!” As if I didn’t want to. I looked around frantically, Somebody? Anybody? Help?

“Aye! Come…” Oh no! “Come and sit here.” He directed me to the chair that was literally under his nose. A drop of tear ran down my cheeks… the last time I cried before that was when Dad refused to buy me a water-gun. And if sitting in the front bench, in front of the entire class that stared at me continuously for 5 minutes as I walked to the front and settled down, wasn’t bad enough, I also had to listen to a lecture – not the normal ones, but the really Angry ones, the ones you don’t want to hear. A lecture that ran for one full hour about being “On Time”. I felt a thousand fingers point at me for each word he said.

Today morning I had learnt, the hard way, that I cannot afford to stay up a minute after midnight and swore to repeat it never again. Until the clock ticked to 11.55 pm. I had to make the call…

I stared are the cell for 4 minutes. I had my classes, I had a promise to keep, a reputation to hold, an embarrassment to wash away – there was no way I could be late again.

But… but… the clock struck 12, and I made the call…

To be continued…

Love