“Hey...I’m Vipul. I’m from Delhi.” He was Mannu’s room partner.
“Mannu... from Lucknow.” The letter V was following him.
Mannu smiled and started unpacking the suitcase.
“Did you come today?”Vipul asked Mannu while changing. He
was in formals over bathroom slippers.
“Ya...feeling very tired yaar...”
“Hmmm..You must be. Take some rest. Catch you later buddy.”Vipul said and left the room. Mannu immediately
checked the mobile phone. There were three missed calls from Pia. But all he
could do was to wait for her to call again.
Introducing himself
in front of the seniors six to even fifteen times in an hour, Mannu’s face, his complete
body and even his hanky had become a store house for sweat. The
style of introduction was unique. The fresher’s had to say their name in English, their father’s name in Hindi. Walking on the ladder
of English and Hindi, the first year tumbled on every step and each time one had
to start from the beginning. Mannu as well as the other boys couldn’t figure
out the real motive of this ‘introduction act’ from the faces of the seniors’ aka the real BOSSES of the college. One thing that Mannu could actually realize
was that he was nothing except the five letter name. Repeating ‘Mannu’ times
and times again, he doubted why and how did he exist for so long? Oh momma!!! He
never wanted to be see-n-ear a senior.
As a usual routine they had to be dressed in formals the
whole day, lined up straight like the Qutub
Minar even to fill their stomachs. One wouldn’t mind not wishing the
faculties, but no fresher could escape the bosses without a ‘Good morning
Boss’, ‘Good evening Boss’ or sometimes why not a ‘Go to hell Boss!!!’ Stand by
their permission and leave by theirs. One had to kill his free will to survive.
Mannu and similarly the other boys were missing home and on the way to the mess, home delicacies were eagerly
remembered. Mrs. K had cooked biryani,
but Channu had informed Mannu that she didn’t eat and even cried on the table.
Mannu had become so busy that he could not talk to her, hours after the knowing
that she cried. He knew the cause. He also knew the solution, but he was kept
occupied in silly activities and mobile phone was to kept back at the room.
Missed calss from Pia had become more frequent. The melodrama ended by late
night which left no scope to call back either at home or to Pia. Mannu had to
sleep with guilt. Life had shown its second phase. Everything here was dipped
in the lake of change.
The two seat, two almirah and two tabled room number 510 was
his new hideout. God had had some petty on him as Vipul, was also from the same
branch, Electronics and Communication. Vipul, had a flat long nose and only his
French style beard could support it. They both had same music interests,
literary interests and they were even of the same height. Sitting in the
corridor, they listened to only one song, but for hours. The whole corridor was
mostly filled by the ECians. Mannu was named Slash by everyone for his guitar playing.
Evenings passed but Mannu found few minutes, without forget,
to talk at home. They were concerned about the meals, the health and safety of
Mannu. They were missing him more than
he was missing them. Only Mannu knew the pain he had buried in his heart. But
there was the brighter side of life. Pia was much happier of his being in
Jaipur. Now Mannu had no fear of mummy
and her daily questions ‘Kiska phone
tha?’, but the time to talk was unavailable.
He was the interview by taking maths as optional
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