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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”.

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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…