“The moon would never be visible from here.” He said to
himself and went in to check the bathroom. It was clean and properly lit. After
washing himself he simply put the suitcase in the almirah and locked it up. The
new life had begun. It was plain, limited, but the beginning of Mannu’s career.
He called Mrs. K, Mr. K, answered their impatient queries in a relaxed manner
and went to sleep till he heard the knocking on the room.
“Are you Mannu?” Asked the boy. He was plum, dark and tall.
He wore a Reebok cap, track suit and shoes of the same brand and had a very big
electronic gadget in his hand. Mannu became nervous. His mind started comparing
his condition with the boy.
“Yes...I’m Mannu from Lucknow. And you? Come in please. Are
you staying in this room?”
“Boss boy. Call me Raghav Boss. I’m your senior. Don’t you
wish your senior?”
“Good...Good evening Sir. Sorry Boss. Good evening boss.” replied
Mannu, leaving the handle bar of the door and facing the senior in an alert
attitude.
“Reach the playground in 5 mintues. T shirt, shorts and
black formal shoes.” And he went to the next room. Till Mannu could understand
what had happened, time had already started ticking. He opened the suitcase and
quickly took out the shorts and T shirt. It was an embarrassing combination,
but it was the order for the evening. Mannu locked the room and went out. There
was silence in the corridor. After a while he saw a boy coming downstairs. He
was wearing a kurta pyjama on running shoes. Like Mannu, he too looked horrible. This came as a jolt to both
of them. And exchanging greeting only through smiles they reached the
playground, which seemed covered with circus artists or better recognized as
the first year.
Running rounds in formal shoes was not an easy task, nor was
it was it easy to play volleyball in kurta
pyjama. It was even more difficult to play football in a blazer, that too in the summers and it was very tiring
to play leg cricket in plated trousers. And the seniors were having a good
time. It was the start of spring for them. Commanding a group of fresher’s they
were sitting, watching the circus go on and the whole college was lined up on
the play ground boundaries. Mannu was hurt. The new shoes had started biting
him, but stopping or retiring was to be punished by an extra round so he never
dared to do so.
“Welcome to your new life. As you finish the order of your senior,
line up in front of the mess.” An announcement, from some corner, was heard. And
the same followed, almost mechanically. Queues were made. Again, separate for
girls who were giggling and passing smiles at the boys. The mess was near
hostel number 2. In strict discipline the evening snacks were offered. The
seniors had occupied all the benches. Thus the show went on even in the mess.
No interaction could follow among the fresher’s. Sipping tea and gulping the aloo pakoda all were asked to go back to
respective rooms.
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