The Story of a week gone by

‘When you want something with your whole heart, the entire universe conspires to get it for you...’

Or so I thought. The story of a week gone by...

It’s criminal to lose 10 marks out of 100 over something as stupid as attendance. From now on I am going to attend each and every lecture no matter how useless I feel it is! 

My resolve was unshakeable. That’s the best thing about resolutions; they make you feel like the greatest achiever in the world without having to feign the slightest struggle with gravity.

 I’m feeling good about myself. I've attended two lectures and managed to stay awake through both! A couple more and I’ll be done for the day! ... my phone is vibrating. It’s my sister calling from London.  

 ‘Hi Hari, I have great news. I am coming to India tomorrow! It’s my birthday and I thought I should surprise mom and dad. Plus I can help them move into our new house! Just pick me up at the airport at 4 pm tomorrow and we’ll go home together. Ok? I’ll mail you the flight details by evening. See you soon!’

  Yeah right!! Call me to pick you up from the airport whenever you feel like making an appearance! After all, I AM the chauffeur nature provided for pickups to and from the airport... 

 I am a little ashamed of my initial reaction. Yes, I really wanted to attend all the lectures in this semester, but I can definitely afford to miss one for my sister. And even though I am sure that her presence won’t make an iota of improvement to our collective efforts on moving day, there’s no denying that my parents will simply be thrilled to see their first born on her birthday.

Ok, I'll accept it. I envy my sister a lot. She’s the caring daughter who’s always flying down from wherever on this earth she may be, just to surprise her parents and spend time with her loved ones while her self-engrossed brother hardly gets time for his parents even though he stays in the same city!

 Calling me to pick her up! As if I have nothing better to do...

 I came back to my room a bit more cheerful. I’d checked my time table for the next day and saw that I had lectures till 3.50 pm. My sister’s flight was scheduled to land around 4 pm (Yes, I checked my email during the subsequent lecture; God bless wireless internet). If I could find an auto quickly, I could attend the lecture and still make it to the airport on time!

 My spirits soared.

 ‘Do you have to pay Rs 600 to the Placement committee? They say it’s for the admission brochure’ My room-mate Parth enquired. 
‘Rs 600 for a brochure! That’s ridiculous man! These Placement guys are just ripping you off. Does the college donate your fees to charity?! Seriously yaar!’

 I’d always felt that these Retail Management students were subject to step brotherly treatment by the college management. They didn't have the best of faculty, they had a separate Placement committee and even their fresher’s party was held at a separate venue! I still remember how this last bit of injustice was unanimously and bitterly criticized by all the guys in my class...

 There was another reason for my outburst though. I was a student now and money was always hard to come by. My sister coming home on her birthday meant that my monthly budget would go for a toss. My wallet was stolen a few days ago and other than the obvious losses, the replacement fees for my driving license, debit card, credit card, ATM card and all the cards I never even knew I owned were quietly bleeding my bank balance.

 Anyways, I’d never had second thoughts about spending money on my sister and this year too, her gift would be grand!  

A friend helped me pick out the gift(s) for my sister. I felt as if I’d hired a consultant because when it comes to shopping, women take their job very seriously. After labelling the entire line of Shoppers Stop garments as ‘tasteless’ she finally picked up a top and a wallet. The acquisitions were duly inspected by other consultants from SIMSR girls hostel and approved by chants of 'Wow' and 'Mast hai'!

 I suppressed a grin..... my friend couldn't. God bless her.

 The next day started as usual; the only exception was that I was carrying a heavier bag. I had packed to go home directly from the airport. Minutes away from lunch hour, our IB professor interrupted the lecture.

 ‘Students, you might remember me missing a lecture last week? I’ll be conducting the same at 4 pm today...’

 My mind failed to register the rest of the sentence. I heard sighs and groans of protest but my tormentor had left by then. A couple of friends who knew of my predicament offered looks of sympathy; somehow it only made things worse. I was trying hard not to show any emotion but my insides were burning with rage.

The next time someone tells me “God helps those who help themselves” I am going to punch him in the face!

One of those friends, (lets call her Elizabeth) was going to fly home the following week. The same professor interrupted our lecture to announce that he wouldn't be taking his regular lecture! Elizabeth tried valiantly to mask her delight but its difficult to keep secrets from friends. I simply smiled at her. You see, after a while you can almost see it coming.

 I took heart from the fact that I would be seeing my sister soon. After a 100 rupee auto ride to the airport I realized that I was in for a long wait. I sat on a bench wondering how a lot of the payments I made these days were round figures... 

Roses!

 We have a little tradition of gifting four roses, one from each person in my family, for every birthday celebration at home. I picked out four roses from a florist and waited for the change. None came. ‘Sir you need to pay twenty rupees more, its thirty rupees per rose’.

The words took time to sink in. I wondered if I had somehow been transported into the future because the last time I went shopping... I could buy an entire rose plant for thirty rupees! WITH ROSES GROWING ON IT!!!

 Anyways, I was determined to maintain the family tradition and no gift could be expensive if it were for my sister. I made the payment and walked away.

 I saw my sister a few minutes later. After the customary exchanges of ‘Oh my God! How fat have you become.. did you EAT London?!’ and ‘Shut up, you moron!’ we took a cab home.

 A little boy (chubbier than us both) greeted us at the signal, begging for money. Eyeing the roses in my sister’s hand the boy pleaded with her.

 ‘Didi, if not any money, please ek rose hi de do’ 

‘How sweet!’ screamed my sister and promptly gave him one of her roses.

‘Hey! Are you going to sell it to the florist or by yourself?’  I was curious.

 The boy simply grinned and ran.  

 The next morning I left home halfway through the house warming ceremony. We only had a couple of lectures and it was tempting to stay back given the long bike ride which lay ahead of me but the new lecturer was really good and I was determined not to miss any more lectures this semester.

I set out for college at 9 am.

Halfway through the journey, I saw a sight I’d only seen in Bollywood flicks. Four traffic policemen were standing bang in the middle of the highway with one hand raised over their heads signalling for us to stop. Five bikers, including myself had to hit emergency brakes to avoid running into them.

One of them asked me to park my bike aside and show him my license. All of us had apparently jumped a signal and would have to pay a fine.

‘This is a duplicate license. Where’s the original?’

 ‘Sir my wallet was recently stolen and my license was in it. I have lodged a police complaint and applied for a new license...’

 ‘My dear boy’ the policeman chided me. ‘If I go to a grocery store and tell him “See, I have a Xerox copy of a 100 rupee note, please give me some samaan, do you think he will oblige?”’

 ‘Yes sir, I completely understand. But the license copy clearly states that my license is valid till March 2018. So the document isn’t really that useless, is it?’

 The smirk vanished from his face.

 ‘Listen to me boy. Rules are rules and it is my duty to follow them. The fine for breaking a signal and driving without a valid license is 700 rupees. Either pay the fine or I’ll have to confiscate your bike and you can collect it from the RTO office in Malad after paying the fine’.

 This conversation wasn’t going the way I wanted it to.

 ‘Sir I am a student and I don’t have that kind of money on me’ I lied. ‘I have to attend a lecture at Vidyavihar and I need my bike to reach there on time. Please consider my case...'

 The policeman’s features softened a little; so did his tone.

 ‘Hmmm... I don’t want to harass you son. Do one thing; just give me 200 Rs and you can go. You see, I want let you go but I am answerable to the others as well...’ He gestured towards the other traffic policemen. They seemed to be wondering what was taking him so long...

 I did not have the time for negotiation. I made the payment and got on my bike.

 ‘Drive carefully! And watch out for the signals!’

I reached college with ten minutes to spare. I was sweating profusely so I took a quick shower and rushed for the lecture. The new teacher had been clear that she would not entertain latecomers. A couple of students were standing outside the classroom when I reached.

 Ma’am is already inside and she’s locked the door! One of them shouted.

 I quickly glanced at my watch.

 ‘But it’s not 12 yet! The wall-clock in our class has always been fast by 5 minutes. Everyone knows that!’ 

 I peeped into our classroom. The prayer had just begun. The numbers outside the class had multiplied.

 ‘Surely, she’ll allow us to attend; she hasn’t even started teaching’ I said to no one in particular.

  ’It’s not like we are disturbing anyone’ I tried to reassure myself.

 ‘But we were on time!’ someone shouted from behind me.

 I knocked on the door once the prayer was over. But there was no response from the lecturer. Our friends inside the classroom gave sympathetic looks but moved their heads sideways indicating that she wouldn’t listen to anyone. Someone continued to knock on the door.

 I stormed away as she continued to ignore us. It was one thing to be asked to leave a classroom because you were insincere... but this.... I felt like punching my fist through the classroom wall. If only I were Rajnikanth...

 I tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end it doesn’t even matter...       
I had to fall, to lose it all... But in the end, it doesn’t even matter...

I hadn't heard myself sing in a long time.

I attended the remaining lecture and sped back home. It was going to be a long weekend given that we would be moving all our worldly possessions into our new home. And as I struggled with cartons and furniture over the next two days, I sure wasn’t disappointed.

 I left for college again on Sunday evening. The sun was still beating down but the roads were relatively clear of traffic. Not a bad day to ride a bike I thought.

 Deja Vu!!!

 This time it was 3 traffic policemen. After exchanging the initial pleasantries we got down to business. I was a veteran now and was able to get an additional student discount of 50 rupees over my earlier transaction.

 I reached my room and called home to say that I’d reached safely. Dad told me that my new licence would be ready in a week’s time.

 The fee for re-issuing a stolen license?

 Five hundred rupees.

 Lectures started at 10.30 pm on Monday morning and I was in class before time. There was some commotion around the black-board on which I saw something scribbled.

 ‘For all those who were away this weekend, kindly note that you have to pay 800 Rupees to the Placement committee towards the expenses incurred for the placement brochure...’

 The picture of a grinning Parth flashed in front of my eyes. When was the last time I’d made a payment which wasn’t a round figure?!... I found myself wondering again...

This story is based on true events…on a week in my life. Sadly, things haven’t changed a lot since. I received my laptop from the repair shop a few hours ago, my mobile phone couldn’t survive a laundry incident, my birthday is around the corner and I am almost as broke as the US economy. I am sincerely grateful to Miss Piya Mukherjee for encouraging me to post this as a blog  (this was originally a submission in her Business Communication class... she is also one of the characters in my story ) and to a friend who writes really well. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it and I look forward to your comments and suggestions.


Thank You