WE ARE HOSTELERS.....

The most adorable and unforgettable moments of college life mostly happen only in and around the hostel building (No offence, day scholars). Let me list some here….

Those few thousand rupees that we pay for staying in the hostel is nothing when compared to the enjoyment over there

Those movies being watched by a gang of more than 15 guys in a laptop inside a single room and the happiness it gives cannot be compensated by multiplex theatres

Those scolds, abuses and warnings issued to us by the warden and watchman for coming late into the hostel are nothing in comparison with the late – night outings, where we block the entire road by striding as a mob

Those cricket and football matches we watch in TV are no way nearer to witnessing a match live

Those games we play with cards like ass and uno are no match for the bridge played at clubs and bars

Those cricket matches we play at the corridors and sometimes even inside the hostel rooms cannot be overshadowed by the net practice session of seasoned players

Those last minute preparations for the most difficult paper of a sem can never be kept at par with the year – long preps for the board exams

That guy who explains us the Greek and Latin part of a subject at the eleventh hour is more than a God when compared to the prof who teaches for months

Those group studies where we mostly do everything apart from studying is more effective than the hour – long references at library

Those birthday bumps and slaps received from the fellow hostellers is way beyond the power of a Chris Gayle sixer

Those debts we incur and those bucks we spend for buddies, if accumulated, would surely cross the total assets of Bill Gates, Warren Buffet and Mark Zuckerberg, combined

The taste of those limited Onion Bondas for which we fight and brawl can’t be equaled by a soup at ITC Grand Chola

Those group walks to the class from the hostel cannot be overtaken by the long drives from home to reach the college

Those calls of machi and mapla, even to the first time acquaintance in the hostel, cannot be leveled by these hippy dude­ and buddy

The yells made by us after India wins a match can never be matched by the noise of an uproarious thunder

Those baths in showers and falls are negligible when it matters about taking bath at the hostel bathroom after waiting for our turn in a queue

Those ice – creams, milk shakes and hot chocolates that we share among us are greater than the home – made idlis and chapathis

Even the Burj Khalifa cannot be on par with our majestic hostel blocks

That moment when your room – mate gives you his shirt when you’re in dire need of it can never be compensated by those Ottos and Peter Englands

Those five star rooms and lounges cannot equal the bliss of being at an ordinary hostel, but with your evergreen friends

And, last but not the least, those 60 – 70 years of our entire life are nothing in comparison with the emotions and memories of these years at the college hostel

MY FIRSTS AND BESTS

            Was watching Vijay Awards. Director Shankar, after receiving the Chevalier Shivaji Ganesan award, spoke that Endhiran seemed to be his first movie though it was statistically his 10^th one. This sent me wondering about what my firsts are in life.

My first and favorite song is a baby uttering Amma as a new – born baby; not that which fetched me laurels in vocal competitions.

My first hit at the receiving end was from my parents who patted me gently on the first day of my kindergarten; not my primary class teacher who thrashed me for not doing my homework.

My first ever reward was the first kiss on my cheek by mom when I must have been not more than 1 day old; not the prize I got by winning an elocution contest.

My first ever adviser is my bro, who has been instrumental in my completing higher secondary education and getting admission in a prestigious university; not my high school teachers or some educational consultants giving free advice.

My first ever hero is always my dad, who reinvents himself afresh after a hardship; not the character who fights 20 men simultaneously in a movie.

My first ever friend is my darling Duppi the kitten, who is sadly no more (RIP Duppi); not Vigneshwar Sundararajan, who I know right from LKG.

The first ever garden I witnessed is the backyard of my house (which was once fertile); not the Brindavan Gardens of Mysore.

The first ever drama I watched was the one which mom enacted herself to make me eat during my young ages; not Hamlet or Ponniyin Selvan.

My first choice bike is always the Dinosaur toddler’s cycle, in which I hypothetically did all the burnouts, imagining myself to be a superhero when I was 5; not the one which I drive now (Splendor+, which is obviously dad’s).

My first ever art work was my scribbling in the walls of my home using Apsara pencils when I had been about 1 1/2 feet tall; not the simulations I do using AutoCAD now.

My first ever service was sharing a part of my food with a buddy, whose mom couldn’t bring his lunch on that particular day when I was in my 3^rd grade; not the blood donation camp which I attended recently.

The first contemporary English speaker, according to me, is my cousin, who is in Chennai from her childhood; not Winston Churchill or Steve Jobs.

The first ever fast bowler whom I adored is my bro’s pal, who could bowl at 120 kph; not Shoaib Akthar or Brett Lee.

The first ever awesome mind – boggling fielding which I saw was a man perfectly transferring the red bricks without dropping even once, from one floor to another, during the construction of a building; not the heroic save of Jhonty Rhodes or Mohammad Kaif at the boundary line.

My first ever ’jill jill cool cool’ experience was the tour to Munnar and Ooty; not the day when Voltas air – conditioner was installed in my home.

The first and fastest ever multi – tasking person in my lifetime so far has always been mom, who could cook, sing, pray and fetch water from the pipeline all at the same time; not Chitti, the Robot.

My first ever sad moment was when India lost the final of the 2003 ICC World Cup; not that situation when my teacher abused me in front of the whole class for coming late.

My first agonizing moments were those when I had waited from 12:25 PM every Saturday to watch Junior G, which would be telecast from 12:30 to 1:00 in DD; not those 90 seconds of red signal in the roads.

My first ever fear was to switch on the motor, in the pretense of getting electrocuted; not while watching Grudge or Chandramukhi.

My first ever tension was when India needed 4 off a ball to seal a match; not the last hour preparations for the end semester examinations.

The first ever gang of dons I had a grudge upon was those seniors out at school, who would not wear the top most button of the shirt; not those underground dadas of Bollywood and Hollywood movies.

The places where I long to go are the two schools where I have studied; not the hill stations or malls or theme parks.

My first ever story database was my elder GRANDMA, who was very much comfortable in creating fantasy tales and who left this world when I was in 10^th standard (Miss you very much, granny chellam); not Mark Twain or Louis Carol.

A HALF - BAKED IDEA

          Before I start, I don't feel this post has any significant meaning or content in it. Nevertheless, if you readers can smell some real stuff in it, do let me know.

          I take immense pride in telling I'm a student of the so - called 'mass geth' Mechanical Engineering Department. Albeit the guys here are funny and hilarious, the subjects are totally rot. So, I always look for some diversions to stay away from the syllabus - related matters. One of the notables is participating in club activities. This has always been my stress - buster till date at CEG apart from chatting and hanging out during weekends.

          In one of the clubs, it was the birthday celebration of some of the seniors over there. As they were 'busy' with their classes and studies, I was vested with the rightful duty of buying cakes for them, of course after getting due amount from them. Yet, the thought of walking for about a kilometer made me feel dizzy as the day had already been screwed by then, courtesy the analytic subjects throughout the morning session. But since I wanted to get somewhere out of college in spite of the scorching sun, I rogered seniors' command and went on.

          One of those dutiful seniors had told me the location of the bakery which told cheap and best birthday cakes. According to him, it was located near a Biriyani Shop in Kotturpuram where I had never eaten (Sometimes, I tend to feel somewhat lonely when buddies dine at non - veg classy restaurants while I am left alone at some Maami Mess). So, I went in search of that shop. Seriously, I didn't know that region contained so many bakeries, which would easily equal the number of stationery and grocery shops in my entire hometown. First, I stepped in at a posh, air - conditioned bakery which had a fashionable name (and aroma, too), but I took a retreat when I just enquired about the price of an one kilogram birthday cake. I could buy a comparitively costly beer with that cost.

          As I did not get the slightest clue about where to buy the cake within the stipulated budget, I made a call to the senior who was the Wrecker In Chief.He just told me some another shop, which sold cakes at reasonable prices (Generally, people have this mindset of deciding the prices they fix in their mind as reasonable and affordable; for example, a guy who owns Google Nexus says 25,000 is a cheap cost for a mobile while I, as the owner of an Xperia C, always insist that any mobile at around 15K - 18K is well and good). Then, I went here and there through the whole of the street, covering every nook and corner out there. Some people even saw me with skepticism that I may be one of those anonymous naxals who reportedly roam around the state of Tamil Nadu. The thought of some others could evidently be read from their facial expressions that they zeroed me as a burglar with a master plan.

          I was sweating profusely and my head seemed to burst in the next 300 seconds. Still, my ego didn't permit me to call the senior back once again and inform him about the muddled situation here. So, I became the deciding authority at that juncture and went into a shop with the sheer intention and hope of buying the desired flavor. Bro had already instructed me not to buy the chocolate flavor at any cost; but I was left with no other choice as it was the only thing available there. I was saturated as if the world had no other place apart from that cake castle. So, I had to buy that unwanted and sure - to - be - condemned flavor by paying some extra dosh from my purse. It hurt me severely because I had planned to satisfy my thirst and desire of drinking fresh juice with that cost.

          Anyway, at least one part of my wish was satisfied. I had had enough of my diversion (eh???!!!) and moreover, I had bought something by spending from my pocket. Pounding with joy, which resulted from my praising myself, I walked back towards the college with a majestic stride. I din't quiet get it right if I was feeling really ecstatic or depressed; but on the contrary, I felt dizzy and numb. "Seriously God, why am I a vegetarian till date? I haven't even equipped myself to know about what are all the non - veg hubs that exist in and around the campus", was my immediate curse towards me.

          When I went with the cake after making them wait so long, to the extent that some guys had then started thinking I had absconded with the money, I handed the cake over to them with a proud smile which was easily overshadowed by sweat and my tired, exhausted eyes. When someone asked me why I was too late, I just replied, "Oh, nothing. Most of the shops were closed. And, I also met with one of my schoolmate, who was gossiping with me all the time." What do you call me?

CHILDISH VETERANS

Let me insist here that I am not a teacher who is in charge of making students comfortable with homophones. But still, there is a complete difference between the terms 'childish' and 'child – like'. I almost went deep in exploring the etymology of these two words due to some of the incidents I faced in the recent past. My friends always say that I act a bit childish sometimes as I tend to get provoked and frustrated too easily. And, certain situations have demanded me to do so. But if someone has the guts to face me directly and say, “You behave childish, mahn”, I definitely am confident that they would have to face the intensity of my slap in their cheek. That is because I got a chance, if not many, to practically experience the meaning of 'being childish'. Back to the scene now.

There are too many incidents but let me not make this post futile by listing out too many of them. During my first year at college, I had the habit of going to my home very often. In one such journey, since I had no smartphone then, I was sitting with newspaper then. An educated retiree sat beside me and was keenly looking at me for sometime as if he had noticed a porn star and was ready to pounce on her. There are some trademark looks and statures for these retired government officials, who think that one might become a scholar and versatile in English if he/she had the habit of reading 'The Hindu' regularly. It was evident that he was of that kind as he, after some period of staring at me, asked openly, “Why do you read all this?” Yeah ok, I felt humiliated because I was going through some latest cine gossips then. So, I threw a look of scepticism and awkwardness towards him, ensuring that it was my right to read any news I wished, being an Indian citizen. But then came the shock. “Why don' you read 'The Hindu' or 'The New Indian Express'? You couldn't get that or...?” He paused there with a thought of hesitation but I could read him by the way he looked. The sentence could be completed in this way. “..... or you don't read English? If at all, do you know anything about English at any cost?” I was reading Dinamalar, the greatest cheeky daily in Tamil, which provides news suitable or satisfying to everyone. But then, his blabbers went on to the utmost extent that he termed people who didn't know English as illiterate and insane.

That was all. I couldn't take anything beyond that. I already have mentioned that I am a bit easy in getting ireful and so I became red – faced and started replying him, or rather abusing and scolding him. It was after sometime that the conductor came and sent him off to another seat. I could hear that senior citizen muttering, “These days, even the toddlers learn more bad words than us elders. Look how he speaks. Doesn't seem to have English knowledge but shows off as if he knows everything!” Luckily for him, I had then started hearing an ARR track, which made me calm and composed, so the brawl didn't continue after that.

I wish to ask this question to all. “Do I or don't I have the freedom and independence to read the newspaper I like? Or by the way, if I don't read 'The Hindu', does it mean that I am fit for nothing and fit for futility? Or, has 'Dinamalar' really lost its importance in the newspaper market?” But, thanks to that man, I now have the benefit of filling up almost one – and – a – half pages in Micorsoft Word. (Take the positives out of everything and get pumped up, mate!!)

Another incident just happened today. I was with two of my best buddies on my way to the canteen when one elderly man stood on our way at a narrow lane. When one of us tried to step beyond that man, he just started shouting at the top of his throat some grammatically perfect sentences in English. “I have come closer to this point than you so you should maybe wait for sometime at the other end decently so that I can cross. Do you understand? After all, I was here before you. Everyone is equal in front of law and justice.” This guy really got embarrassed as there were some chicks in and around there. But then, Dr.B.R.Ambedkar would've felt proud because there was a common man here in the extreme southern part of India, who could speak boldly about law even without knowing what it was really. And moreover, had Mr.Shankar, one of the greatest directors in the history of Kollywood witnessed that scene, he would have seriously mulled on directingAnniyan v2.0, with that man in the lead, though he was bald – headed.

I wondered what on Earth did law had to do in connection with that incident. After all, it was just a blockade by a student, who was innocent and on his way to fulfill his hunger and thirst. After all, it was just about a foot difference that really mattered. After all, even that man could have let us pass through. He, on thinking himself to be superior to us, had actually landed himself so small in our hearts. How could a person of approximately 40 years of age behave in such a silly and trivial manner? If it was our bound duty to let him go, then the same was his duty, too. But, this sense of ego, which has become so common to us, is spoiling golden chances of building great, ever – lasting relationships between people from various walks of life. Egoism is particularly dominant among the people of 30 – 40, I say.

I face a lot of difficulties in buying grocery and vegetables these days. Reason: I have to wait patiently for about half – an – hour just to get some 100 ml of oil or salt or whatever. “You're a child. Why can't you wait for some more time? These people have other works.” As if children like us are always idle and lazy, wandering around there with no real purpose and aim? And then, I have this doubt also. How long am I going to be called a child? See, I have joined college; I have got my own two – wheeler and mobile (Most children today get these in their very early days. So, maybe let's not include this point); and I have even voted in an election, expecting acche din. So, I am not a child and I am busy. Try snubbing me by telling some other reasons but not this, please.

            Once, I was in a hotel with my friends. A family of three people were dining in the next table. After eating to the full, the dad paid the bill and was about to leave when their child, a boy who might be somewhere around his fifth grade, shouted, “Why don’t you tip the waiter?” The matured dad tried to calm him down by saying that the bill had already crossed the expecte budget so it was not the time to tip the server. But, this adamant guy asked a question which made me motionless for almost five whole minutes.”If we can’t pay some ten rupees for a poor fellow, why the hell do we spend about 500 bucks lavishly in eating? After all, you get incentives and allowances in your office. Have you ever denied them? If so, let’s go. Else, this waiter has to be given some allowance, now.” That was like Lord Muruga enlightening His Dad, Lord Shiva the Pranav Matra, Aum. My hand was waiting there near my mouth, willing to fill it with dosa pieces but then I was immobile. Only when the man took out a ten – rupee – note from his pocket and handed it over to the waiter did the dosa go inside my throat.

            There are lots more. Really, I don’t want to get into the debate of whether the technology is a boon or bane for children but even infants are well – equipped today. If they could think about satisfying the hunger of a poor fellow, then that isn’t something very ordinary.  So, do never try to snap them by telling, “You are still a child.”

MEMORIES FLOODING IN....!!!

            Was at Phoenix Market City with friends yesterday for an important ‘purpose’ (Purpose is highlighted because we middle – class guys usually go to malls primarily to kill time, not to buy something) The God of Cricket, Sachin Tendulkar, was going to play the last ever cricket match of his life time and there was the plausibility of scoring his first ever hundred at Lord’s. To add more grandeur to the occasion, he was captaining the side MCC (Marylbourne Cricket Club) and there were so many other living legends of cricket who were also taking part in this historical match like Rahul Dravid, Adam Gilchrist, Muthiah Muralidaran, Shane Warne, Brett Lee, Shaun Pollock, Brian Lara and many others. We were forced to go out somewhere to witness the game as the required channel was not subscribed in our hostel television.

            There was no certainty on whether the match would be telecast live at the mall. Yet, it was our only hope as we are all Sachinians, mad to do even criminal actions to see him one more time again. Manimaran and Arjun were also bursting with high blood pressure till we reached the food court at the third floor. Oh, wow!!!! There it was going on. But then, there was this embarrassment of sitting idle for about five hours, when people around you were gulping whatever they found nearby. ‘Forget it, guys’, Manimaran told, ’We don’t need food while worshipping God.’ So, we took three convenient seats and started watching the Gentleman’s Game, literally, of late. Rest of the World, shepherded by Shane Warne, batted first and scored a healthy 293. It was really blissful and ecstatic to watch Sachin run around the field vying for the ball like a child. He was enjoying his game and so were we on seeing him. So now, it was the turn of the Little Maestro to step in and deliver the goods for his side, rather, for the whole fraternity of cricket. There he was, padded up with his usual gesture of facing the almighty over the horizon before facing the first delivery. The match was going on well, with the master at full flow. He cut, dove pulled and flicked the opposition bowlers at will. When it was already raining runs, nature interrupted with the shower; Match was put to halt. So, we had no other option but to stick on to our routine of roaming around the various shops without any slightest aim of purchasing something.

            When we wandered around the gigantic air – conditioned heaven, there were things that made me poignant. There were toddlers and infants in the FunCity, playing virtual games. There were rich, ‘I don’t dare to care’ kind of people, who had come there simply to waste money by buying bucket popcorns and crushers in KFC, which, in fair terms, could easily satisfy the hunger and thirst of about 100 poor families. There were even some 60+ veterans trying out pizzas and burgers. This made me rewind to my childhood and neighborhood of those times.

            As I had already mentioned in some other post, I hadn’t had the so – called privilege of being immersed in these interactive virtual environment throughout the day. We mostly enjoyed in the real world, playing our hearts out in the sunny days and moon – lit nights. Till my 10^th standard, it was always cricket in the mornings and afternoons, and hide – and – seek during the nights. We were mostly into several sorts of adventures like climbing up tall compound walls, which were far beyond our heights to reach, and ringing the calling bells of strangers’ homes, which would disturb their peaceful dinner or serene sleep. Eventually, we were at the court of parents, who would pretend to be strict with us for the first two or three days post the incident, after which we would go on with our duty.

            There was an old man who became our target mostly. This man was highly superstitious and orthodox in practice. Once, we rang the doorbell at his home and hid among the bushes of his own garden. He, on thinking that the guests whom he was awaiting, had arrived, opened the door eagerly. Disappointed on seeing nobody, he yelled on top of his throat some traditional Tamil abuses, which only grandmas and grandpas could comprehend. Just then, one of the guys meowed like a cat in a coarse voice, which evidently frightened the old man. He immediately rushed towards the front door and locked it. After sometime, we could hear him speaking to someone though phone, “Don’t come here now. And, I mean it. There have been ominous signs here. I sense danger and threat to your lives. I heard a black cat purring, which I a signal of evil. So, better cancel your plans and come here some time later.” We had tasted the most convincing victory in terms of frightening someone apparently through this man. However, we were found to responsible and ‘punished’ by our parents in the usual way, which I already mentioned.

            As I grew up, so did the number of houses being built. So, we were left with no other option but to play in the streets. This drew flak from our neighbors and we were seen as some aliens who had come on Earth to destroy the whole planet. People had their own reasons: They could not sleep during noon due to our noises, they had to repair glass panes in the windows very often, courtesy the ruthless shots played by us and more. Some started detesting our parents and it went to the extent of even avoiding them totally in some important meetings in the locality. But, we had justifications on our part. “Suggest us at least only one ground, which is entirely empty without even a single house, and we’d play there. Who likes to play in these nasty roads?” In spite of the stern opposition from the whole of the area, we managed to spend every morning in the hot sun. Neither their abuses and grumbles nor our habit stopped.

            There was a lady, who was very brainy in eating at others’ house. She knew the weak point of each residence and went there prepared accordingly. In our house, her chances always broadened when she started speaking sentimentally about her family situation and the regular brawls and difference of opinions with her mother – in – law. She would start by asking, “Can I have a cup of water, please?” Mom would instantaneously offer it; as the tempo of her story increased, so would her menu list. Sometimes this would result in her getting a full dinner. I always wonder how she had such a brilliance, which if used in a beneficial way, would have easily made her an extraordinary diplomatic strategy analyst. However, mom understood her tactics as her stories and gossips became almost the same every day like the mega serials and Harris Jayaraj songs and learnt to avoid her in a polished manner. Now, no person of this kind could be found here because people here never mind about spending money these days for something or nothing. But, there were personalities like this lady, who would spend any amount of time, but not money, to satisfy their needs.

            Recently, during the semester holidays, I had this chance of meeting some of those neighbors who had had a grudge on me during various time periods. The old man, whom we meowed blessed me from the core of his heart and soul, the lady who had once shouted bad about my parents because of my playing cricket near her house and breaking their windows, now greeted me with snacks and coffee. I can still remember that old man saying, “The world has changed entirely. People are in a different mindset and mentality, focusing on only material wealth. Even children younger than you are always engrossed in front of computers. There’s nobody out here to disturb my sleep by ringing the bell. Miss you children.”

There are two wonderful things about elders:

1)    They have the capability to easily make me cry through their words

2)    Only they can fulfill my hunger to the fullest extent other than mom, even by giving bhajjis and a cup of milk, but with unfathomable love and affection, which cannot be compensated by loading the belly with pizzas and cool drinks.

Miss you people!!!

FAIR(Y) TALE

How Rs.10 brought me Rs.535

            I hadn’t witnessed any fairy tale in the real life till yesterday but today was not meant to be usual for several reasons. First of all, I completed all formalities for the hostel re – admissions in the college without any major hiccup and we had an entire day to do whatever we wished (Of course, the first 10 to 15 days of every semester is obviously meant for that), thereby adding my continuous ‘being idle’ days to 57. Voila! I am going to be a senior at college. I wanted that astounding pride to reverberate through the whole of my heart and soul again and again.

            As nobody among us was in a mood to set things in order in our new room, we decide to wash and rinse our sins at the Elliots Beach (OK, no brags here. It is nothing but the Besant Nagar Beach). Although I was angry with my friends for not accepting my plan to go to a movie, whatsoever, I was really bubbling out there with Vikram, Barath, Sandy, Karthik, Venky and others. That was the spot where I always get the nostalgia about the Silver Beach at Cuddalore, my hometown. I never give up in stressing the importance of my native place in this regard.

            To be with your close friends after some gap is emotional and blissful. It was the same here as we started teasing and tormenting each other to the full. There are always contrasting characters in every gang I have been part of since my childhood, and it continues till date. There is this mockery of comparison between the tallest (Ok, here I admit. It’s ME) and shortest, and the fattest and leanest. We spoke about how difficult it was to miss home and the cookeries over there, and there were deep discussions about crushes. And again, friends can also be classified based on this: There are certain guys who say, ‘Machi, I am seriously crazy about her’ whenever they spot a hottie and there are also others, who keep their passionate poetries within their heart, pretending like, ‘I’ve seen many more like them. It’s just boring and usual, mahn’. There is also a rare third category which is really disinterested in girls (I don’t know how. Probably, it’s a medical miracle, I say).

            Luckily, we hadn’t got anyone of the last kind so we began our Call of Duty. I am a combo of both the first and second types. Sometimes, there is the explosion of Shakespeares and Vairamuthus inside myself, making me to mutter unconsciously, ‘Wow…. She’s awesome’, creating a wave of embarrassment around that vibe; at other junctures, I just try and manage to keep calm, playing only the silent, calm symphonies of Beethoven and Ilayarajaa within me, and get irritated when someone ‘wow’s her.

            This was all happening today, too. There was one girl of this ‘mindboggling’ kind. While I was choosing mine from the crowd (thinking of the expressions of my GF if she was beside me), there was an interruption. A beggar-woman was imploring. I couldn’t tolerate her yells so I just looked for some coins in my wallet. Though there was not a single coin, I just did it to attract attention. But then, she said, ‘May your mother live long if there’s something for you to offer this ignorant soul!’ I was shaken literally because mom had already told me in the morning that she was down with low Blood Pressure and that she needed a day off entirely to rest and sleep. Impulse and sentiment forced me to give away 10 rupees. ‘This is for the whole of our gang’, I told her, with my inner voice stating, ‘This is for your good, ma. Miss you very much.’ She then looked at me and the ‘mind-blowing’ girl in periodic miniscule intervals of one second and said sarcastically, ‘May God bless you to get married soon and have many children.’When she had gone to a considerable distance that she had no practical odds of hearing me, I said to the others, ‘Gosh, these girls always make me artificial. Why did I ever search for something which I didn’t really have? Moreover, five is a little too big for a normal family.’ Others were really happy eventually as they had had the last laugh in the battle of girls; I couldn’t attract them effectively.

            One guy thanked me for giving her something, adding, ‘These women will curse us surely if we don’t give them. And, congrats for becoming a family man so soon.’Then, we enjoyed a bit in the water, pulling each other’s legs and falling in the sand. Since there were a few dudes who were not interested in coming, they were simply chatting; we had given our purses, mobiles, ID cards and everything to them. After a 20 minute glittering entertainment, we went in a mad rush of eating everything we could find, right from bajjis to bhel puri. Since the night would not end without a real dinner (i.e. the regular South Indian stuff like idlis and dosas), we dined at a veg hotel.

            When I was fulfilling my hunger hunt with aloo puri, there was a call from an unknown number to my mobile. A man told me in an alerted tone that my college ID was with him. Shock! I was terrified. It was a very serious matter. Missing an ID card meant that I had to face numerous tortures to attend lab classes, implied I would miss several late – night outings with my buddies and last but not the least, I had to wander throughout the college to several offices searching with sheer hope to get a new ID for me. So, I thanked him and said I would be back there at the beach within five minutes.When I went to the place, there was a man who was entirely the opposite figure from what I had imagined earlier. He was about 35, and dressed in a manner, which could neither be termed as flamboyant nor too simple. I thought, on seeing his face-cut, that he was going to abuse and scold me severely to the extent that thoughts of suicide would arise in my mind. But he, in a soft and serene voice, advised me and gave the ID. Shock transformed to surprise within minutes! I had got my ID back; that stranger – turned – acquaintance had saved me 535 bucks (A Demand Draft for 500 plus bank charges 35)

            While I returned, these guys were still enjoying their meal. They all started giggling at me but I just went straight to the guy who had earlier thanked me for saving the gang from the curse of the beggar and said, ‘She’s not a beggar. She was ‘God In Disguise’.’