The day of announcement of the results. Thank god you are admitted. At last. Some relief. College pal phones you and after formal congos says ‘Meesaya eduthuru. Northie ponnungalukku mesa irundha pudikaadhu” (Wipe your Moustache off. Northie girl doesn’t get along with mushy guys).
You see him as a savior. Do that. Think you look like ‘Thillu Mullu’ Rajini and stand before amma. After a brief shock she adds, “ Oh. Anga ulla manjal vachrukken. Poi theichi kulichiko”. Arghhh.
Airport. Adieu Sennai Madharaas. In the flight an old lady with the specs ,” Krupya thoda hut jaayiye . Mujhe saaman rakhna hei” . A padikkathavan Rajini appears again withinself . Smiling you say, “Yes . Yes. Thank you”. The lady is puzzled. Again minutes before landing when your eyes are fixed on to the refreshing pair of waxed legs , the air hostess with her glass of water whispers , “ Kursi. Thoda aage”. The reply was “No. Thanks”
At the end of the day 1 you update your Facebook wall with any of these three phrases. “ Ek gaav mein Ek kisaan raguthaatha.. Raha.. Raha”, “Arrey yaar!!!” ,” Roti, Rajma and Aloo L “
Anshul, Arnav,Abhinav, Arnab, Ayush, Amit, Ashish. Ankit. Confusions of India. RIP Anands, Aruns, Karthiks, Sureshs & Rameshs.
The next day someone asks you , “ Are you a Maddu?” Mallu misspelt you thought . Madras = Maddu. Mallu, Kaddu, Golti likewise. Whattey explanation. Appo Salem na enna Sallu va..? Podango.
You are astonished cum annoyed to know that Keralites can understand,talk,walk Hindi you bloody fellow. People from AP can speak broken Hindi. Kannads speak even Marathi. Dei. Ennagada. Naama ellam onnunu nenachen? Appo naan than out aa? Oh Gaaaawd.
Class rooms are nothing less than night mares. A girl in the class is on the way with a smile. Says something. Before you could decipher that, a Villain with a loud voice crosses and declares, “Usko Hindi nahi aathi hei.” Otha Dei.
No where connected to the mass the world looks deserted. When the entire class bursts out in laughter for a professor’s joke in Punjabish Hindi you are busy nudging the next fellow , “What yaar. Kya yaar. Bol yaar”. The chap makes sure that he doesn’t sit in your vicinity for any of the future classes. It becomes a routine and over a period of time it becomes almost involuntary. You bang the desk and start laughing loud enough so that Prof makes a special note of you, though you don’t get a single bit of it. Desperate class participation you see.
You pretend to be the calmest guy in the class. Little the other people know that you penned a love letter in Class V and the cc of the same was sent to the Maths teacher. A typical last bencher you hurled pieces of chalk at the miss and in UG college you proudly used to claim the prettiest faculty , “En Figure”. Distant sweet memoirs. Vaal is suruttified.
Morning before you even get up you think of the day’s menu. “Aloo parantha & Dahi”. That Idli, Pongal & Meduvada floating on a plate of Sambhar at Ratna Café in Triplicane flashes across. The same weekend you travel 50 Kms up and down for a Andra full meals.
Water sprinkled on a banana leaf. You are getting emotional. Rice piled. Hand drilled. Hole made. Podi put. Ghee vittu. You are disturbed. Thinking of the Home and Amma for the first time in 40 days. Eating the first vaai of Rasam. You are about to cry. For the first time in life you tip Rs.30.
You’ve never been a great fan of Rajnikant. Sans Baadsha. But when people tease you with The name for every single thing you do you feel more connected to him. Some youTube videos for the rescue. Blue neon/Led lights flashing S.U.P.E.R S.T.A.R and then a
Goosebumps. And the only solace.
You try desperately to learn some Hindi but fail again and again. Frustrated, you see the famous
Vadivel comedy tracks and hit the sack.
Dhanyavaad.
