The Comeback

REST REST REST

After three days I was back in business. The fever didn’t last for two days. But the whole mood of homesickness made me stay back for another two days. Friday I boarded a train to Pala. A new energy was inside me. I was confident to show to Manjesh sir and the rest of the world what a kid dynamite I was. Thus on my return trip I made certain strategies to please him.

In the mean time there were some drastic changes occurring in Pala House. Some people who couldn’t tolerate the toil vacated the hostel. In the vacancy some new faces came. Thus along with the new refugees came Vijesh, Hari and Amod. Vijesh was nested near Kesavan. While Hari and Amod were in the ground floor at the two edges of their study room. Room numbers 12 and 12-A.

All these days my life was more or less solely based on one single idea. To impress Manjesh sir. Somehow the second weekly test made me look like a bit stable. I jumped up big. From rank 70s to 20s. oh I was in cloud number nine for the following week. When Manjesh sir came to sign my progress, I didn’t  forget to smile at him. His facial muscles were all tense, refuting my smile. Before he passed to next room , he made another stab in the neck.

“Ippo kaanicha improvement eppozhum undavanam”

The next week my rank was in the early hundreds. I fell through quiet a good height. And the fall was back breaking. That week sir noted all those who fell from promising ranks. Of course I was not the only one who fell. But I can’t argue with that when Manjesh sir came to my room to slit my throat. Literally he did slit my throat. He just shut me up. Khallaas. So from that point I started two new practices.

I started to go to library and I started to sit for Reference (Secretely I started another practice. I made rendezvous to all other rooms during the night…. :))

Fact File : The Reference:

The whole phenomenon of going for reference is based on one gross idea. Self help is the best medicine. Of all the amenities we enjoyed at Brilliant, I think the most profound and benefitting one was the presence of a vast library. There we could sit till six and read any academic books. The reference section had many colorful books and the mere sight of them could enlighten us (A bit exaggerating….eh?)

So after a day’s class we would stay back at Brilliant and using our Library card we could borrow reference books, go into some classroom and sit there till night and study. This whole practice was branded under the name of Reference. A sir was always in charge of our reference. He used to issue us library books and when we were in place reading, he used to make rounds to see that law and order was in place. The sir, whom we saw exclusively on reference time, had a dark complexion (We couldn’t rule out the resemblances to singer Jassie Gift… Hence we called him Jassie).  Jassie sir was pretty serious and gritty, that even the mere sight of him, befell with pin drop silence in the classrooms (When he was not around it was Thrissur pooram). But in a matter of weeks all his rendezvous routes were understood by us, and more or less he was cleverly outplayed. We used to turn the place upside down when he was a way. But if we smell him near, everyone turned mute, as if we were practicing Buddhism. So in the matter of a few weeks the references were nothing but child’s play.

Evenings at reference were dry like parippuvadas. Nights were usual. The usual night routine is getting described in a coming article... so wait for that guys.

Everything lighted up at the canteen. We would crowd before Royichan’s TV set, watching Mtv or 9xM.

The times when Singh is king and Yuvraaj  hit the TV sets. We would almost always end up in disputes over changing TV channels. I would scream at the top of my voice when we go past some good song or movie scene. But it’s not always rewarding. The Hindi guys at the canteen (Hindi song lovers, to be precise), included me, Hari, Nidarsan, Thoufil, Renju, Richard and some others. Our chubby Nikhil.S fitted into the amphibian group (Hope he is not cursing me, reading this). Amphibians representing everything from Tamil, Malayalam, Hindi etc (later, we all were amphibians). Being a diehard fan of Harris Jeyaraaj, he was more like the publicist of groovy numbers. Any time in the canteen you could find him drooping over a plate of Masala dosa and humming  “Anbe en anbe” from Dhaam Dhoom or the Rahmaniac  “Ennavale  adi ennavale” swapping between the channels.

There were other clans also. The “Molluscs”  were hard shelled creatures for whom nothing but Malayalam songs (That  too “Lajjavathye” type…alas) went in. this included Amal Philip, Rohn Sam and others. Some had a palate for comedy programs only. Balu, Sen, Kiran (Moopan), Rahul (kazhappan) etc were neutral in channel disputes, except in days when there were cricket matches. Sibi, Mohammed, Jerin etc had a taste for any channel (I still wonder, if Sibi will dare to watch channels like Lok Sabha if it was being put).

The Time is now 7:30 in the night. The slow drift of a crowd from Royichan’s canteen to the Kizhathadiyoor Church.  All of them with bottles. Apart from waking us up in the morning (somebody is laughing and singing right now), the church gave us water to drink.  There was usually a pixel crowd in front of the cooler (Thank god it was Church’s property. Our hostel owner Joy was so much bill crazy, that he may charge us for every mouthful of water we drank, if he had a chance to).

Within a minute’s tussle in front of the cooler everyone would be back in the fortress named Pala House. Hari normally had two bottles in his hand and he used to juggle with them (Every time he tosses a bottle full of water into air, I pray to god that he catches it intact. 5 bottles per month, was the usual death toll). I hope by the end of the course each one of us had a circus trick learned, and Hari’s was his famous (rather notorious) ‘Water-Bottle-in-the-air (It was never ‘Water-bottle-in-hand’. It was either ‘in-the-air’ or ‘on-the-ground’, and the latter was not catchy at all).

There were times when we have to stay out at night on the verandah, punished by Biji sir for getting late from the canteen. Those were never the times of toil. On the other hand we simply enjoyed being the ‘outstanding’ person of the day. Rather than cursing Biji sir for such a punishment, we would secretly slip out into the canteen, to get a soda or lime juice, and be back in our standing position, and reain there. When sir shows up before us,  to scold us, we would be staring at him as if god had manufactured us as deaf mute.

And if we manage to get back into the rooms on time, we were almost ready to begin our night routine.

Believe me, every night was history…

First week fast forward:

Life went on without much change for the first week. I was not making much public contact those days as I met with a bitter incident on the second night itself. So somehow survived the first wave. Actually it was me who misunderstood Manjesh sir’s wrath. Later Amal told me something about his character. Manjesh sir never tolerated arguments. So if you happen to come across his wrath, its best to keep quiet. Otherwise he will just destroy you. I just got incinerated…

Speaking of Manjesh sir I just forgot to mention another name. There was another terror at palahouse (I mean another warden), named Thomas sir. We used to hear scary stories about him. Legend has it that Thomas sir made ghost visits to rooms and busted “uzhapyfying” students and made them stand outside the hostel all night. There were also rumors that he used to practically throw students out of their rooms, if they were caught violating the rules of Pala house. Luckily he got engaged when our batch got into the hostel and Manjesh sir became the chief warden. Another sir also had the charge. Biji sir. But he was restricted to ground floor. Moreover he was kinda fun. Biji sir who moved around with those very famous dialogues “Do do do do do, nna paripadi…..padikkanonnum illae???” was an all time favorite to all of us.

Pala house after a week’s analysis was the worst of my nightmares coming true. Day after day after day I came to hate that place. But all these desperate times I made some great companies. The trio from Pathanamthitta, Balu B Nalukettil, Rahul Raghav and Sibi B Abraham, occupying the rooms 64,65 and 66 respectively. The three were quiet a great company. Their rooms were across the study room. My room (Room number 61) was the room overlooking chief warden’s room. All evening Manjesh sir and Biji sir was stuffed inside that room watching TV. This was the time when we used to do all our errands to other rooms. First week was the only week when I made minimum contact with other rooms. In other words first week was the only week with me inside my own room. It was also the only week that I turned on my fan.

My routines were also very straight forward. The day started with me in the bed. Later me in the bathroom ( I used to bathe during those days). After that, me before the payphone calling home. The time when I had to complain about anything and every thing here at Pala house. A trip to Royees canteen. Gobbling up a couple of dosas and here I go again to brilliant. There a hectic 8 hour schedule. Before noon all my battery would go empty. After a recharge from the canteen again back in class. Evening, there was a small tea break before we departed for the hostel. After that we would hop into the bus to Pala house.

The situation at Pala house was not so yielding for the first week. The more I restricted myself to that room of mine, the more I came to hate the place. My room overlooked the warden’s room in the 1^st floor. So out of of boredom if I ever come to open the windows, I found myself locking eyes with Manjesh sir. It made me suffocate with shame and guilt. If he came round by my room at night, he found me on the bed, with a book in my lap and my eyelids weighing down. He used to groan in disgust and went past my room. The more I tried to be obedient and harmless, the more I irritated him.

Pala House also had this custom of weekly meetings after every weekly exam. We would assemble in the courtyard and Manjesh sir would preside over the entire session. On the first week, he called upon a meeting just to reinforce the hard and past rules of pala house. He talked about the results in Pala house in the bygone years and the level of discipline that is maintained in the hostel. And he listed out all our shortcomings. When he was pointing out the mistakes we made in this short span of 3 days, he used small instances to justify his point.

“Kurachu perund. Pandu schoolil padikkunna kaalathu combine study cheytha ormayil study roomil poyirunnu discussion. Avar avarude time kalayanatho potte. Baaki studentsnem kudi distract cheyyunnu. Oruthane njn pidichu chaadichittund. Athu ningalkkellam oru paadamaakatte. Ini melal study roomil discussion kettu pokaruth…”

I knew he was referring to me. It was like salt over wound. “Damn, he doesn’t like me”, I thought.  

And he didn’t stop with that. He also referred indirectly that top floor was the most careless floor. It made me look like an idiot among my new found friends. I prayed hard for this to be over. I was cent percent homesick. I was cent percent claustrophobic.  Pala house also had the system of politely abstaining you from going home often. If you wanted to go home, you should convince Manjesh sir that if you don’t go, the whole world would fall apart at home. Even that won’t convince him. So naturally being a doofus, this humble narrator of yours, never had the courage to ask permission to go home for that weekend.

Saturday went without much hustle. sunday morning I found myself  curled under my bed sheet shivering with a fever. At last, all my inner toil showed up as a nasty fever. Luckily my dad showed up at hostel. He might have come by to review how his loyal son was thriving in the new universe. But he found a sick son, shivering like a cold turnip. So he took me to the hospital nearby (‘Cherupushpam hospital: you got a fever, drink this and eat this. You got a stomach ache, drink this and eat this…… and if you don’t get well, then go to hell….)

The next day, Monday, was the very first weekly test for us. And here I was down with a good old fever. But my courage didn’t die (You know nothing, all you have is courage, right?…. Which means you can face the worst result without fear…)

I wrote the exam in turbo speed. Scribbled and bubbled and tossed the paper to the invigilator. Didn’t wait for another soul to get out of the exam hall.  Dad was waiting outside. I just ran to Manjesh sir, somehow blurted out that I was ill and wanted to go home. I never knew what his reply was. I didn’t wait for that. I boarded a train and was home before afternoon. Of course I got an injection from the hospital, but at that cost, I was relieved. I was happy. A ‘pause and reflect’ moment for me. Of course nothing was wrong with me that I shall discontinue the whole thing. I needed to move forward. Before this fever went away and I was alright and back in that lousy room of mine, I needed some hardening. I needed some thought provoking……….

Saga 1 Continues:

The morning light was painful to my eyes those days, as my morning started only after 11. So being in a new place, that too with terrible loss of sleep the previous night made the morning  wearier.

But hurray….I should be feeling happy. For it was the first day at brilliant (I didn’t like the whole idea. NOT ONE BIT…). So I chewed up my words and put up the best smile I had and departed for the college.

So with a freaky blue colored folder, I was inside the campus of the prestigious Brilliant study centre.

Primarily, before evaluating any place we have to get some of its most inevitable features. The first feature that caught hold of my attention was the ‘Gents Toilet’. Boy, they had one in each floor. That was kinda cool. If anyone can judge a man by his shoes, then definitely a firm can be judged by the quality of its toilets.

Fact File 2: Gents Toilet  A.K.A  Tharavaad:

Gents toilets at Brilliant had a very significant role in shaping its students. It was neat and civilized, but those were not its highlighting features.  First of all it was the pinnacle of all those intellectual thinking, reasoning and accountability displayed by the students. There was a unique relationship building up between every student  and the Tharavaad (coined by none other than Harimohan..). every Monday before going for exams we went to the tharavaad just to get some blessings (literally we peed in the toilet before peeing onto the answer paper). We had a variety of topics to discuss inside the toilet. From screwed up lecture classes to Avogadro’s number, everything under the sun was a discussion topic. I still remember us gossiping about IIT bigwigs and egoistic Venuses, inside the toilet, facing the wall. After giving tributes to the godfather ( :) ), we made our way to the sideward wash basins. Still those memories are fresh inside my head.

So I did my first visit to the Tharavaad and went to the class assigned to me. It was G1, and I didn’t know the a,b,c,d… of G.  And it was kind of a ritual to get lost in a new place like this. So after getting lost a couple of times there I stood before a well ventilated classroom with somewhat a 100 students inside. It took a minute’s preparation to enter the classroom as I was analyzing the worst case scenarios.

Ok here I took the small step for Ajith and the giant leap for…….(practically none at that time). I was confronted by many a familiar faces. Some from Pala house, some from the old school and every eye gazing desperately at you. I quickly spotted Amal Philip, whom I befriended the other night at Pala house. Beside him, I sought asylum from all the onlookers. For the next half an hour we were discussing about the Do’s and Don’ts at Brilliant. And then came our class teacher Mr. Lijo George, a small plump little man, carrying a long list of refugees (I mean students).

He started to call out the names in a flat husky  voice. It took him a while to finish the entire list. And before he departed, he gave out another list of instructions for the survival (of the fittest, though) inside Brilliant campus.

Followed by him was this one hell of a hilarious class by Sanal sir. The class was about Magnetism. But the man was a genius at cracking jokes, that after 2 hours of class all we could note down was a few anecdotes.

Boy this place was crowded as a carnival. The lunch break came quickly. And everybody was running towards the canteen. People who had mess facility at hostels were messing up bad to get out on time. There was this system of Tiffins, wherein you can pay for Tiffin and it was brought in your own Tiffin boxes. Girls mostly depended on this Tiffin system.

And here I was ‘Tiffinless’ and ‘messless’ staring into the infinity as if god almighty is going to drop a food platter onto my hands. Well after enough staring Mohammed dragged me into another relief feature of Brilliant. The canteen.

Fact file 3: The Canteen:

Brilliant had a well furnished and well run canteen. There were all kinds of trifles and soft drinks available and there was some sort of love-the-place-at-first-sight atmosphere. The food was normally ok and occasionally wonderful. The people running the place were friendly and kind. All those Chechis at the canteen with their gracefulness made us feel at home. Along with all those Dosas and porottas on our plate they poured in lots and lots of care and love. It was their presence which drove us there at least once every day.  We had the liberty to discuss anything with them. From family matters to bad ranks, these Chechis at the canteen were more like a grievances cell for us. At those points of my life I was particularly grateful to these people who made my life worth anything. Never in my one year of life have I felt out of place when inside the canteen. Even with a not so good rank in those cursed weakly exams, a cup of tea and a vada could fix all the melancholy. After all who can cry when our “Ammachy”(as we called her) pouring us tea smiles at us? She was more like a mother to all of us (And occasionally we got extra banana fries as the tokens of her love)

Another attraction was a television which occupied a balcony position in the canteen and can be viewed even from outside the canteen. This television was our only link to the outside world apart from the occasional newspaper reading. If there was a cricket match or news bulletin you could find a huge audience inside the canteen. There were evenings when you could find yourself eager before that TV, watching some movie climax or a thrilling cricket match with partially opened mouths and mechanical hands holding tea and banana fry and a mesmerized mind roaming alongside the sprawling hero or the devastating batsman.

The food was not tasting so good. My mind was roaming somewhere far from the plate.  Somehow I managed to finish my meal and get back to the class.

Let us cut the details and jump into facts. Altogether the first day at Brilliant was not very brilliant one.

When I got back to hostel, I had this strange drive to study in the study room in our floor. Being the top floor, I found it to be irresistible to discuss and study. The room diagonally opposite to mine along the corridor was occupied by our warden Manjesh sir. I saw him a couple of times on the previous day. A short statured boyishly looking man with absolutely no facial hair.  At first site I mistook him to be a fellow student.  When I first saw him, I thought of throwing my arm around his shoulders and have a friendly chitchat (a bit informal to a hostel warden…..eh?). Luckily Mohammed pulled me back and saved my butt.

Ok…back to the story. So here I was in the study room for the first time discussing the periodical table with Kesavan. We were practically screaming at the top of our voices at that time, that we didn’t notice the short shadow by the wall at the end of the corridor. Fortunately and unfortunately I was the person who happened to talk at that very exact moment when that apparition came into the study room.

Have anyone of you ever been stung by a wasp, the pain is excruciating and you feel burning like a furnace. Well I was stung. Not by a wasp, but by Manjesh sir. When he drowned me in his anger, I was feeling terribly out of place. Damn it…Why it has to be me?

I still wonder how anger emitted out of Manjesh sir’s small form. He practically ate us up with his wrath and none had the guts to disobey him. So this poor narrator was shredded into pieces , for the crime of talking  in the study room. Manjesh sir ordered me to return to my room and remain there for the rest of the day.

I was inside my room and he was inside his. Did I cry that day? I really can’t remember. 

But I sure as hell remember telling to myself “ I am not going to make it. I am in the wrong place”