While most of you might kill to go back in time to your college days, I would rather die than go back to it. A bunch of people who were far from being anywhere near the wavelength as me were my batch mates. As a result I had no other deviation or entertainment I could turn to, just to place a blame for my declining marks, so I found studying as a way to overcome adverse effects of this pathetic species on my otherwise blooming youth.
So there was this person, let’s call him Ken. Although he was in a different department, he was f
amous notorious in college for more reasons than one. He also had
a very famous affair with one of the girls in the hostel. This girl, let’s
call her Ms.Weirdo, was weird even before she fell in love with him.
Calling her weird would be an understatement, as ever since this guy had got into her veins, she’d been aloof from her own friends. Although she was in a different floor at hostel one could see her heartthrob’s name carved and written on her pillows, walls, ceiling fan and on every surface on which pen could make a mark on. However, Ken made it a point that he ridicules her when she was not around, so that the general public knows that he wasn’t serious and the affair was just a prank. Even the studious and insignificant me knew this. However Ms.Weirdo was in a different world altogether and was oblivious to everything around her. No one would dare open their mouths about Ken in her presence.
One of those days Ken, who looked quite drunk on a study leave evening, even insulted me and my friend by passing a derogatory remark as we visited the college canteen for snacks. I never had any reason to hate him before, but after this incident, like every other female in the campus I hated him too. (Ms.Weirdo was not considered as a part of the female community).
Anyway, I graduated from that college and started living a life. Ms.Weirdo was a junior so she must have been there a few years more, I don’t know.
I was finally back home for good, and CV-printing, job hunting, interviews, group discussions, aptitude tests and the like started. Six months went by, and I landed a job at my own home town. The pay was small…but who cares. I was staying with my parents- so food and accommodation free. Whatever meager salary I got was used to buy clothes, shoes and to recharge my prepaid mobile. The initial six months at my new firm was a training period, during which we had to do a project too. We burnt the midnight oil for getting this project done, and I stayed at a working women’s hostel a couple miles from my office, with a friend for around a month.
Now working women’s hostel is the new definition for hell. But our super busy schedules made us stay most of the time at office itself. Arriving at midnight to the hostel and leaving early saved me the energy to kill cockroaches and rodents which were permanent unpaid tenants and added to the misery of us losers who have no other option but stay in this building. There were three girls in a dingy room which could hardly accommodate one. My friend, me, and a stranger. Lets call this stranger Ms.Despo.
Ms. Despo was desperate for love. As soon as it is morning, all she can talk of is about her boyfriend. We figured that out anyway because this woman never slept and talked on her mobile all night in low voice under the blanket. In such a small and closed room, one could even hear the footsteps of cockroaches, when this disgusting female would whisper sweet nothings on her mobile all night. Either she wanted us to vacate the room or she thought that we were deaf.
One Friday, as I was getting ready to go home, Ms.Despo asked me:
“Anita, which college did you go to?”
“Oh its XYZ. Why?”
“My boyfriend went there too. He knows you”.
I noticed from the corner of my eye that she was blushing at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’, but I was rather focused on wondering which guy it was.
“Whats his name?”
I was stunned initially but extremely amused within a few seconds.
“He wants to talk to you”
I took that mobile, whose keypad was hotter than KFC chickens due to overuse and placed it gently near my ear and I said,
“Anita, this is Ken here. I am sorry, really very very sorry for whatever I said to you at college, please don’t tell anything about Ms.Weirdo to Ms.Despo. I am serious about Despo and “might” marry her also please”
He finished that in a fraction of a breath. I tried to pinch myself to stop the roar of laughter brewing within me. I am not sure what he meant by “might” and “also” in that sentence. I got goosebumps and it felt like a Bollywood climax when this once self assumed Don, Ken begged me to not spill the history of his wayward life to his prospective bride.
I replied nonchalantly “ Okay..hope you’re doing good” and ended the conversation briskly.
Years later I found Ken Mathews on facebook. He’d actually got married to Ms.Despo and has put up their wedding photo as his display picture.