new post friends......

I’m having a petty fever. It’s Monday and our college is hosting something like a cultural night. And this cruel ruthless badass fever is making me stay back. Well there are other reasons for me wanting to go to that function, which is why I can’t enjoy fever this time. Gosh, my back hurts. My head hurts. So guys, am unleashing my feverish wrath upon you all. Spare me for this crime.

The Hard Way

Since prehistoric times, the word ‘exam’ has been proving in itself as something quiet of a catastrophe to young men and women. When girls hear it, even god can’t predict what sound comes from which part of the body, but surely can sense the impending danger.  Boys, well they see the lighter side of everything till the night before the exam. But the final 12 hours will even take the bravest of brave wet their pants. You don’t have to face exam every week to know that fact. But by some vague twist of fate, you are in a stature to go through the same turmoil once in every week. Come what may be, it’s Monday morning, and exam is right above everybody’s head.

Well after all that ‘burning midnight oil’ sessions in the night, we may manage to get a couple of hours of sleep (breeze-less sleep so to say, as I am too hesitant to switch on my fan fearing a monstrous electric bill). So with half open (or half closed) eyes we stand beside the road waiting for the bus to come. My empty stomach might be making funny noises, but its cries shall be answered only after reaching brilliant.

Only good thing during the bus journey in the morning is to get some cool morning dew which I suppose, is a unique feature of Pala. But the fun is short lived as our favorite ‘Ummachan’ would switch on his godforsaken MP3 player. “Ishq ada hai Ishq vada hai” it starts to sing. It seems that this particular song has earned its status as an unwelcoming exam special. Every exam day when we would be praying for favorable questions to come, this cursed song plays as if god is bullying us poor human beings.

“Pandaram. Ingerkku veroru pattum kittile keppikkan. Ayalde ##@@$$%% (censored for minors)”

We reach the brilliant campus by around 8. The whole place has certain energy on exam days. Numerous girls would have already flocked in front of the small tea shop to buy paper or phoning their parents. We head straight into the canteen fight furiously for two or three dosas drowned in sambhar(By that time the chutney would have been wiped clean).  Having eaten an unsatisfying breakfast we rush to perform our ritual before heading into the exam hall. What ritual??? Forgot??? Visiting our own tharavaad…

Myself, Hari, Vishnu and Sen would be pouring out our worries and hues before any exam. Seeing our worries washed down the drain, we get an uncanny confidence. “Don’t be afraid even if you have returned a virgin OMR sheet; all is well that ends well”.

                                                            ******

It’s been 15 minutes since the bell rang. 15 minutes left for the bell to ring. I look into my watch and return to my answer sheet. Jesus Mary Joseph! , only 7 questions answered (3 among 7 are wildest a guess can be. “Karakkikkuth” as we say). I start to panic (It’s nice to panic when you don’t know the answer. It’s double the fun when the topic is what you read last night :D). Now I turn to the last question. Let’s see what it’s like from the bottom. Hopeless, the last question is something I haven’t even heard of. I jump to the 15^th question, and I start to sob. That would possibly be from the topic I left out last night thinking that it won’t be asked no matter what.

I look into my watch. Another 5 minutes has whooshed past. God, why does time run so fast when you are writing an exam (and phoning somebody…). There is no way am going to complete this paper. So I start to play some of the old trial and error method. I start answering from the 27^th question. 3 questions in a row, below upwards. Then starting again from question number 10 and going three questions downwards. A little there, a little here, I somehow manage to give a “not so bad” look to the answer sheet.

Now there are two minutes to finish. So I look into my answer sheet. Some 15 to 20 bubbles are darkened. “Wow that is great progress, last time you managed hardly 17 only, lad”  I console myself. But the work is still unfinished. A-B-C-A-B-C-D-A-B-C-A-D-B. Now that gives it a more classic pattern like look. It won’t fetch you mark for sure. But it’s at least eye candy, right? (You won’t hesitate to think such futility, when in my stature). The bell rings. I hand over my paper.

“Angane ee examum kaivittupoyi. Aah. Aduthathenkilum padich ezhuthanam.”

Now I am outside discussing the questions with some big gun, most probably Kasavan or Sooraj. It’s a rare sight to see my smile fading question after question, hearing that it’s actually an A rather than D (In this case, my answer would most probably be that D). These are the rare moments when you pray with full heart to change that answer to D (who hears your prayers?? Even god is busy screwing up lives of poor Iraqis and Israelis).

The next set of cries comes during the evening when the marks are put in the notice board. Of course it’s being read to us by our Lijo sir back in our classroom. But standing amidst the crowd, staring into that big notice board for hours as if we are using our telekinetic power to change our rank to a better one, is surely a relishing experience (the experience is even more relishing if the vicinity is full of girls eager to know their hard earned rank :P).

During the early days, I used to search for my name from the top. Name after name, with a heavy heart, usually I will find solace in the last 20 ranks. Later on I would directly start from the bottom, knowing that the journey from top downwards is rather painful than bottom upwards when it comes to rank lists.

After knowing my not-so- hard earned rank I would be sharing the sorrow with other fellow compatriots (the so called unlucky pricks, who also joined the boat hoping to make their parents proud, but unfortunately getting nowhere). When we reach canteen, there would be a mixed up emotion altogether. Some may be laughing. Some may angry and some may real sad (I mean jumbo sad. There are honestly working people unlike me). Vishnu and Ajax (Both of them looked like twin brothers. And both of them were jolly good company) would be easing up the pressure with their slapstick humor and anecdotes. When Hari joins me, it makes a mutual pair of shoulders to cry on. So after a few senti dialogues about broken promises and unused study hours, both of us would be back in our old ‘Who-cares-if-world-ends-next-minute’ attitude.  After all we have another week to make wrong things right (it’s easy to say every single time).

Boarding the bus back to Pala house, we may encounter one or two good songs, which lay to Ummachan’s mercy. All of us had plenty of time to waste during exam day evenings. Nobody kept any regulations that particular evening. So we might be spending longer than usual time before the TV inside Royees canteen. I would have already called home to tell that I screwed up this time also, and I am not giving up and I will be in the first 10 next time (in the first 100 that may prove, but only time can tell..:)). I may be blaming the question paper or the topic for getting low rank (you can’t always tell the truth to your parents. Of course it worked with George Washington and Gandhiji, but it may not work with you). after enjoying one or two lime juices from Royees (an excellent laxative it usually turns out to be) or devouring a precious piece of pastry bought from the Pala bakers, we might go in for a small nap in the evening.

The night would have another bundle of surprises waiting for you. There will be hostel meeting at night, right???

Always, the meeting nights have been the mopst memorable among the nights at Pala House. All except two…

reference round ups !!!

 The Rituals Continue:

What is boredom?

If you ask me, I would say that it is the reference days during weekends. Time would be world’s slowest snail creeping second by second with incredible sluggishness that you feel that you are not born in an inhabited planet. The effect is pronounced in the forenoon session. There would be none patrolling to see whether we are asleep. There won’t be any familiar faces around you. Till 10:30 you will drag yourself between an incomplete sleep and a nerve wrenching problem from the GRB. Usual reference machaans were I myself, Bribin, Rahul, Vijay Baby and Nuwais. I still remember Nuwais running for the bus in the last minute with a half buttoned shirt and partially clad trousers and badly made up hair.

Oh!!! Before we start off for reference, let me describe one particular incident that occurred in connection with our bus. Ours was a bright olive green bud with white stripes on it (or vice versa, I don’t remember). Our driver was a man in his mighty 50s. We don’t know his name actually. We used to call him Ummachan(consider those infinite permutations of that name, hehe). So our dear Ummachan used to nag us with every possible trick he had. One of his favorite tricks was to play a song for almost a thousand times. Brilliant had no hesitance in spending money in fitting good quality audio systems in the buses (mostly, a Sony Xplod or Pioneer. But whatever it may be, it still was never used for the right purpose). So what this guy did was, he had certain odd favorites among the songs played (we gave him almost three CDs, but those three never really appeared in the player. Still it remains a mystery). All the time it used to be a “Theyn theyn theyn” from Kuruvi or a head ache from the film Ada. “Ishq vada hai, ishq vada hai…”it went so on and so forth (the ‘Vada’s in the lyrics is sponsored by Hari, of course) and the most hectic of them all, a Tamil song, “Kaathoram lolakk…” (We used to curse him with the lousiest dialect, yet what he only did was to increase the volume to make it more unbearable). Going through all this toil we were shipped back and forth between the college and hostel.

So on this particular morning, when we were waiting for bus (most of us. some of them always came after the bus was there). The time was almost 8. So this guy Ummachan started to growl his engine so as to make the late comers hasten. It was Richard, Sen and Vishnu who were running towards the bus. As soon as they came yards close to the bus, he stepped on the gas and the bus started off. Richard and Vishnu were running behind the bus like wild hogs. They tapped on the bus, but it didn’t stop. But instead, that wicked driver slowed it down, so that he can make them run a bit more. Finally when he stopped the bus to let them in, it was almost half a mile from the stop.

Richard as soon as entering the bus unleashed his rage onto the driver (He even called every one of that driver’s family members. Boy what a swearing…). There was a brief confusion before the bus started again.

When we reached college, this man Ummachan got out and grabbed poor Vishnu by his collar, mistaking him as the one who cursed him. he started muttering “Ninakkenne ariyilla. Njaney chavakkattu karana. Ennodu kalichaal niyokke vivaram ariyum.” Poor Vishnu got scared like hell and was begging “Njaanonnum cheythille, enne veruthe vidane…” (I am not quite sure he cried then…). The matter reached Stephen sir and from there it reached Manjesh sir. Ummachan was called upon to testify. That evening it was the turn for Richard’s hearing, in the Pala House. But instead of hearing anything, Manjesh sir started firing him. Some sort of a pin drop silence was fallen over the hostel that night, so that every word from Manjesh sir from down below, came clearly to us in the top floor. But that day we were all unanimously supporting Richard n his stand. He was the only one who had the balls to ask against the atrocities of that cunning Ummachan. Of course he got all the beating for himself. But that night Manjesh sir too was pretty reasonable with his argument, since his words too made sense. If such a thing was happening against us, we could have told Manjesh sir about it at the first place rather than going on retaliating against it head on. But that problem was over that very same night itself. Because of that however, one positive thing came into being. No more “Kaathoram lolakk…”

Back to reference guys. We would reach the college by 8:30 or 9. Every eye inside the bus would be searching hungrily on the roadside for eye candy sights in front of biological hotspots namely ‘Alphonsa’, ‘Assumption’, ‘Sacred Heart’, Shanti’ and the fanfare walking to the college from ‘Little Flower’ and ‘Vandana’ (For those who are not familiar with these names, they are those ladies hostels, where the oceanic masses of girls in pursuit of a professional degree seat are nested). Even if we didn’t catch a glance of any of them, we are still not disheartened, since there is plenty more time to mouth-look inside the campus.

Our Stephen sir knew the catastrophic chemistry of containing boys and girls altogether inside one building (there were some real bad repercussions too...). So he didn’t place girls anywhere near boys while on reference. Boys and girls were in separate rooms. We boys would usually go to the top floor of the building, much more like a thatched rooftop pantry car; it was too hot and dark. But who cares, if it makes a great place to sleep.  I used to take a short nap of about 2 hours before the morning break. And a small 1 hour nap afterwards. All these times I may be having a gigantic yet Arihant (Gibberish) or GRB (More gibberish…) in front of me. Yet not bothering to look into it, I would doze off. After the break I would go near the earthen water pots, to get a recharge. Of course those pots have been the occasional sight round every corner in every floor, and has been playing pivotal role in my brilliant days.

Fact File: The Earthen Pots:

Brilliant never made you thirsty to dead.  So there were earthen pots filled with water every 10 meters in every floor to ease up the “vellamkudippikkal” process. It has been very refreshing to take a sip of that water, when you are already being bombed by killer MCQs and wrenching exams.  Those pots were also markers for “cargo” location. As Hari once mentioned, we were two vayinokkis standing near the coffee shop on the banks of the drainage leaning against the wall with coffee in our hands looking at those beauties standing near the earthen pots. “The blonde girl near the pot to the left of zoology staff room or the white salwar clad girl near the pot on the third floor…” and so it went. Those pots were the unmistaken cornerstones of the Brilliant landscape.

Afternoons were fairly jolly compared to forenoons. We would comfortable reassemble ourselves in new and convenient positions so as to meet the basic requirements of chitchat.

After a round of heavy discussions, finally my eyes go down onto those books. Oh, my god. It’s like the whole purpose of dragging those books weighing two tons from their shelves for absolutely no purpose, makes me even more sober (Ennalum padikkila. Nombarapettond rikkan oru sukham allae..:p)

By the time I ran through the first line of the page lying open in front of me, there rings that sweet bell of tea break. Padikanath pinnem aavaam. But vaazhakkappam pinne kaanathilla.

So here I am, devouring my banana fry as if it’s the most delicious delicacy. Tea time will end soon, and then we found ourselves again in front of the reference books, a whole lot of new books now.

When I am in the bus back to Pala house, carrying my Porotta and curry (And most probable the Porottas and curries for those at hostel too…), its nearly 7 in the night. After reaching the room, my interest is diverted to the usual night routine.

Balu, Nidarsan, Rahul and Mathew would be there in the study room waiting for me… sometimes for their Porottas and curry. But most of the times it would be for some other reason.