The unexpected

At 6 the programme started. A lamp lighting ceremony then a hymn to Goddess Saraswati by the pretty girl in a Half saree, followed by lengthy speeches by all sorts of people with all sorts of titles attached to their names. The performance by the Orphan Children was the most entertaining. They danced to  “ Raindrops on roses” quite gracefully, and ended the show bumping into one another when a child dressed as a  tree lost his balance and stumbled on the bee.

A humorous applause was followed by the prize distribution ceremony. Everyone quite eagerly watched the proceedings on stage but we were amusing ourselves with the proceedings around us.

I betted 5 dairy milk bars that a particular girl’s name was bound to start with ‘Sri’, for whenever the anchor used sri(an honorific prefix used before masculine names), she would almost leave her chair in excitement. There was another girl in a dark Harper Green Salwar who looked as if she had witnessed an accident. Still another girl in a Red churidaar with long plaited hair rose with much indifference, when the name Pallavi was called. She did not as much as smile when they announced a second prize while her friend, Ashok was bouncing about. A tall, dark boy was the only other boy who showed as much indifference to the proceedings on the stage as we were showing, but he was busily chatting with a cute girl beside him. We were did restrain our laughter at the “Black and White” pair when we heard a faint “TEJASVI” from the mocrophone.

My eyes wide of astonishment looked into Tejasvi’s no-less wide eyes in disbelief, perharps there were more than one Tejasvis in the auditorium to be sure of which we waited with baited breaths, staring at the stage. The microphone boomed again clearly mentioning our names and our college name, we were dumb struck. A third time our names were pronounced and no one else stood up, we took to our heels. We sprinted past the girl whose name was probably “Sri” then past a couple of boys, over the stairs and took, rather snatched, our certificates. We quite disbelievingly were checking whether the certificates contained our names or not when the a rough voice said “photograph”. Sporting our distorted faces with a confused smile we got it done. Quite leisurely we descended down the stairs, the pretty girl in the Half Saree was smiling and waved a congratulation.

We took our seats still in a state of delirium a dozen rechecks later we were sure we somehow did win it. Not sure how.

A speech followed by a vote of thanks and everyone started vacating the room. We were no exceptions.

At the door Puri ordered us to wait near the main entrance.

At the main entrance we stood trying to figure out what made us win with half an hour preparation. A group passed congratulating us, our chests puffed out we were elated. Then the girl whose name was probably “Sri” grudgingly congratulated us never lifting her face off the ground. She had taken another step that we heard a silent sob;

“pApam rA!(an expression used to express sympathy)”, I  said.

“Guess she prepared for more that half an hour.” Tejasvi added.

  A boy who was seated on the stone bench under the bamboo groove, with no sign of his female friend, congratulated us cheerfully. Then came a sweet, cute, “ Congratulations” in a sing song voice, whose owner was the girl in Yellow georgette Salwar Kameez, Puri , along with her friend Vydehi, the beautiful girl in violet T shirt. Puri asked Vydehi to reserve a seat for her in the college bus, who obediently departed.

Puri, whose oblong face now seemed round and fuller, showered us with a string of congratulations and then started a conversation which Tejasvi till now wishes he should have terminated.

A series of nostalgic jokes and laughs and smiles, the conversation was wonderful, till the moment she made a mischievous comment.

“Why don’t you change your name it is so long and difficult to pronounce”, Puri commented with a giggle. Tejasvi let out a laugh.

“At least it is not edible as yours “, I joked. Tejasvi grinned.

Girls perhaps lack a sense of humour or are not sportive enough orperhaps a combination of both.

Whatever may have been the case Puri’s face changed it was no longer full and round, it had returned to its oblong shape perhaps it was a little more long than it should have been. Her nose nolonger retained the tanned look but had instead adopted the shade of a tomato. Her eyebrows ascended over her forehead, almost touching her high hairline. Her eyelids stuck back. And her eyes no longer twinkled bu instead  glared at me. She mumbled a haute, stern, monotonous good bye and left instantly. I was confused and Tejasvi aghast.

* The words from Indian languages with the exception of proper nouns are spelled according to the Harvard Kyoto convention for romanisation.

“It is the same story everywhere”

Tejasvi was furious, quite expectedly he removed the slide of human eye, which we had planned to explain in detail and instead gave a leisured pause on the slide of surgery which we had initially planned to give brief attention. He grinned and winked to my baffled looks.

I do not precisely remember all the stories that we cooked up to the questions of the judges but we managed to make a mark, though we were not sure whether it was a good one or a bad one; but new it must have been terrible either way.

4:30, and we were out of the hall and roaming around the college garden this time. The garden was landscaped and well maintained. There was a large lotus pool in the centre, we could see a school of gold fish swimming in the clear water, and there were a couple of catfish lazily grazing at the bottom of the pool. Lush green Hyacinths with their violet flowers occupied a far corner beyond a group of water lettuces. A lone frog sat on a large lotus leaf beside a beautiful blue water lily.  The pool was lined with granite and in the middle, an arch bridge rose. From where we stood we could not see the origins of the bridge which had a thick bamboo groove at one end while the other end vanished behind a bower of Jasmine. We followed the cobbled path to the bridge which had wreaths of periwinkle and laburnum growing on either sides. The brigde as we could see was most tastefully built with a voluptuous, sandstone Yakshi on either side under large fully blossomed temple trees. A lantana creeper clung to the railing which ascended with the ascent of the bridge and curved over granite benches placed under the shade of the bamboo groove to arch over the lake.  I felt the expected singe of a furious glare from Tejasvi, when we discovered some of the stone benches occupied by people of either sex chirruping away excitedly. To avoid a confrontation I squealed at the nth Kingfisher perched upon a reed. Though I could not achieve my goal but the squeal managed to frighten the Kingfisher, which flew off and turn a few startled heads on the stone bench.

As we neared the other end of the lake, suddenly Tejasvi grew cheerful. Evidently the stroll over the beautiful lake had a therapeutic effect upon him or perhaps it was the cheerful banter of the children which was growing louder by each step. Beyond the Jasmine bower was a large hall, there were children all over. Some screamed, some ran about, some were arranging balloons while other struggled with streamers and glue. They were not alone; there was a flock of girls, evidently from the college, helping them. We stood on the thresh hold, I was amused at the patience of the girls and was annoyed at the noise, Tejasvi was quite cheerful evident from his thunderous laughter. All of a sudden a small boy darted from amidst a pile of chairs to behind a heavy curtain screaming; “I won’t ! I won’t !”

From the same pile of chairs came a disgruntled figure, almost sprinting, with knickers in her hands, “kannA! Please! Please wear this……” she was pleading.

Upon seeing us she stopped. Tejasvi was grinning, I was disgusted, and she hid her timidity behind a startled laughter.

“Are you omnipresent!!!”, I remarked, having found Tejasvi’s source of happiness.

“Ohh! The presentations are almost over and these orphans would be performing next and as you can see they are not yet ready.”, Puri replied, while hiding the knickers behind her.

I opened my mouth to say something when my cursed phone rang. I excused myself and headed towards a vacant stone bench next to a thick bush of reeds, behind the Jasmine bower.

15 minutes later I, having tucked my hot cellphone in my trouser pocket went to the hall. They were not there. I searched the stone benches with no luck. Annoyed I went back to the hall. By now the children who resembled overgrown bugs were moving in a file with a couple of girls leading them. I went to a pretty girl in a half saree and asked for the whereabouts of Puri. She was perplexed for she never knew any girl with the name “Puri”.

“Obviously”, I thought to myself “she must have kept her pet name a secret”.

I then took her ‘Official Name’ and posed the same question.

“She went to the auditorium along with the boy.” The girl replied.

“I did not see them pass the bridge.” I protested.

“There is a shorter way through the cloister” she smiled.

“Could you please direct me.” I asked

“Why don’t you come along, we are going there” she said.

More than being pleased I readily accepted the offer.

“So you guys call her ‘Puri’ !” she smiled.

“just do not get me into trouble” I added.

We walked all around the hall. We passed what looked like the green room and then a few other rooms. Just when I thought we had reached a dead end, the girl took a right into a small, almost hidden alley. It led to a cloister which was well concealed behind a Casurina groove. The cloister led us to the doorstep of the main building where we had got ourselves registered in the morning; though now there was no trace any of the morning’s apparatus.

“Puri! He was looking for you guys”, The girl next to me shouted upon reaching the auditorium.

I was aghast.

“Did you tell her that?”

“It was an accident.”

“I will come to that later, first clarify this. Which of the following is correct?” Puri rattled out.

“XYZ is on the phone attending a call.”

“or”

“XYZ is at the phone attending a call.”

“It is the same story everywhere.” I thought to myself.

Obviously they were talking of me when this particular sentence might have sprung up. But the source of the sentence was least of my worries. I just did not want to end up with a grammar lesson and that too with a friend’s girlfriend. Thus I shrugged my shoulders, knowing well that when one answers such questions one always ends up being wrong.

Luckily for us, Puri was called before she could comment upon my naivety and an evidently annoyed Tejasvi helped me find seats in an already full auditorium.

* The words from Indian languages with the exception of proper nouns are spelled according to the Harvard Kyoto convention for romanisation.