Your Dreams Are Mine Now (3 page)

Amidst the crowd, the freshers could be differentiated from their seniors by their body language. The faces of the juniors radiated anxiety. It was, after all, their first day. The seniors, on the other hand, were quite confident as they looked forward to having an interesting time in welcoming the new batch and also having some fun at their cost. Only a handful of first year students seemed to be in their comfort zone, or at least they pretended to be so, because they were from Delhi. The fact that they had friends in the older batches of the same college made them feel a bit more relaxed.

An open-air amphitheatre in front of the admin block, right in the centre of the campus, was the venue for the first year students to gather. A lady who was the principal, along with a staff of a few lecturers, all men, awaited the students in the well of the amphitheatre. One of the staff members kept announcing on the mike, calling all the first year students to gather around them.

While most of the students had reached on time, a few were yet to register their attendance. Some sprinted at the last minute and joined the gathering in the semicircle, wondering if they had missed something extremely important. The principal began with a welcome note for everyone, after which she talked about the history and the greatness of the college. Giving the example of the fine alumni that the college had produced in the past, she shared her expectations of carrying on the tradition of nurturing intelligent minds and shaping them into bright individuals. A few lecturers joined her later and spoke in turns. They talked about the rules and regulations and the do’s and don’ts in the campus premises. Not everything that the faculty announced made sense to the students. Half the time, the sound was the problem. Time and again the mike whistled, screeching into the ears of those standing near the speakers.

A group of super seniors who were passing by mocked the teacher on the mike by shouting, ‘
Sir is saal bhi aap ka mike thik
nahi hua
.’ (Even this year, you haven’t fixed your old mike.)

Most first year students ignored it but some others made a mental note.

Taking a cue from the rules-and-regulations speech, a good number of students wanted to clarify the doubts that had cropped up in their minds after listening to the faculty. But then many of them didn’t want to grab the limelight on the first day of college. So they tried to persuade their newly found friends to ask on their behalf, or thought about going to seniors to clarify these doubts for them, later in private. A few confident boys and girls did get up to ask questions on the hand mike that was passed to them, thereby registering their leadership skills among their batchmates. But most of them, in return, were offered very generic responses to their very specific questions. And that didn’t leave them with a happy feeling. While, to many, the entire orientation speech appeared like a mere formality, it did fulfil one important purpose—it helped the first year students identify their batchmates.

The boys used the time to take a good look at the girls in their batch. The next thing on their mind was to learn the names of a few pretty faces who they thought they would send a friend request to on Facebook later. The girls were keener on checking each other out and knowing the latest style trends in the college.

When it came to style and fashion, clearly the Delhi girls had stolen the show. Shorts ruled. And the shorter their attire, the more attention they grabbed. With a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose, a sling bag with the strap running across her shoulder, big earrings, hair left untied and a smartphone in her hand—the typical Delhi girl was a head-turner. When it came to the boys, for a good number of them, the evergreen jeans–T-shirt or shirt remained the unofficially official attire. There were some who wore kurtas with jeans and chappals, style picked up from their seniors—that combination had become a cool fashion statement in the university.

The moment the welcome speech session was over, the new batch was asked to disperse. The students stepped out of the amphitheatre, walking towards the open lawns in the campus. And that’s where their surprise of the day had been waiting for them.

Someone from the corner of the lawns had switched on the music system. A peppy number from a Bollywood blockbuster began to play. The speakers, especially installed for the day at the corners of the campus lawns, instantly came alive and caught everyone’s attention. Attracted by the loud strains of foot-tapping music, students rushed towards it from every nook and corner of the college. This surprise had certainly brought a smile to every face. Gradually, the volume went up and the loud centralized woofer thumped, along with everyone’s heartbeats.

All of a sudden, from somewhere in the crowd, one boy ran to the centre of the lawn and began dancing to the music. He was an excellent dancer and instantly drew a lot of attention. Heads turned and soon every eye was focused on him. The students began to clap and gather around in a circle as he continued to dance. While many from the first year didn’t understand what had just happened, they surely liked what they were seeing. A smarter bunch of freshers didn’t rule out the possibility that this was the first step towards the ragging that was to follow.

Some even shouted out his name. The next moment, when the track changed, a dozen boys and girls rushed to the centre of the lawn and joined him. They weren’t from the batch that had assembled at the welcome speech venue. They looked like they were from a senior batch. They were all in sync and it seemed they had practised a lot before coming here.

Someone in the crowd figured it out and shouted, ‘It’s a flash mob!’

Then, just as suddenly, the music stopped. Everyone looked around surprised.

The euphoric crowd was about to break away when they heard a voice on the speaker.

‘Hello, dear first-year students!’

Everyone began to look around to see where the voice was coming from but could not see the guy on the mike.

‘We, the second year students of this college, welcome the first year students in style. Hu! Huuuuuuuuu!’ he hooted.

In response, the second year batch cheered loudly.

The first year students happily continued to look here and there in search of the missing face.

The voice continued, ‘So boys and girls from the first year, this flash mob is just for you. This is our first-day gift to you. So do e-n-j-o-y!’ and the voice signed off in style.

At that note, the music resumed. And so did the dance. No one could find out whose voice it was.

This time all hands from the first-year batch went up. They clapped in the air, they tapped their feet on the ground. Loud screams and whistles filled the atmosphere. Undoubtedly, the ice between seniors and juniors had been broken in a brilliant way.

By the final track of the medley, the entire second year batch was performing. Surrounding them in a circle were the first year students. Ultimately, they too joined the second year batch.

When the music ended and the students paused for breath, the seniors and juniors shook hands and hugged each other. There was a cheer all around.

It had indeed been a great start to the year!

The rest of the orientation day for the freshers went in familiarizing themselves with the campus, its eateries and popular haunts. Students collected their timetables and syllabi. There was a lot of interaction with the seniors too.

After lunch there was an anti-ragging session planned by the final year students. The students’ union at Delhi University had staged a street play in front of the administrative block of the college. Several members of the union had come carrying their party’s official flag. Every first year student was called for the session and then there was the street play.

Not just the party in power, but other political outfits too were present at the venue. Their members wore T-shirts with their respective party’s name and slogan on it. After the session was over, the volunteers of the prime opposition party in DU reached out to the first year students to sign the large white banner they had specially prepared for their anti-ragging campaign.
A ragging-free Delhi University is our vision . . .
read the white board.

As asked, the new batch pledged that they would neither tolerate ragging, and will report the matter to the administration, nor would they indulge in ragging as they moved up the academic ladder.

Amid the slogan chanting by all the parties, the second half of the day had donned a political colour. Members of all the political outfits took this as an opportunity to reach out to the new batch. They introduced themselves as well as the party’s candidates who were supposed to stand for the upcoming elections. As part of their introductions, the student political outfits seized the opportunity to seek the votes and the interest of the first year students for their party.

One of the most awaited days for Rupali had turned out to be a very eventful one. But it was coming to an end. She had thoroughly enjoyed her first day on campus. In the evening, when the girls from her batch were busy talking to their new friends, Rupali was out alone on the lawn in front of her hostel, the one that was visible from the window of her room.

In one of the corners, close to the road, she had dug out some earth. Her hands were soiled and dirt clung to the ankles of her churidar. Away from the hostel that by evening had turned vociferous, the atmosphere in the garden area in front of the girls’ hostel was peaceful. Hardly anyone walked in and out of the hostel at that time of the day. As Rupali continued to dig out the earth, she kept humming a song.

She was completely involved in her chore when all of a sudden, a racing jeep braked and abruptly came to a halt on the road, right in front of Rupali. The sound of the vehicle coming to rest at once broke Rupali’s concentration. She looked up, surprised.

It was an open green jeep with banners stuck on both sides of the vehicle. A few party flags were lying on the back seat of the jeep where two boys sat facing each other. There was another boy seated next to the guy at the wheel. All four of them were wearing kurtas and jeans and looked like they were seniors who certainly belonged to some political party.

As soon as Rupali spotted them, she quickly picked up her dupatta that was lying next to her on the ground and draped it back on. The sudden arrival of senior boys made her extremely conscious. Both the guys on the front seat got out of the vehicle and walked towards her. A hesitant Rupali got up and went back a step or two.

‘Yeh gaddha kyun khod rahin hain aap?’
(Why are you digging this hole?) asked the guy who had been driving the vehicle. The thick beard on his face and his deep voice scared Rupali. Her heart raced.

‘Ahm . . . actually, I was . . .’ Rupali had only managed to say that, when she was suddenly interrupted.

‘Jab Hindi bhaasha mein sawaal kiya hai maine, to kya aap Hindi mein uska uttar nahi de saktin?’
(When I have asked you the question in Hindi, can you not respond in Hindi?) the guy with the beard interrogated her.
‘Kahaan ki rahne wali hain aap?’
(Which place are you from?) he asked another question.

‘Ji hum Patna, Bihar ke rahne waley hain,’
(I am from Patna, Bihar) she replied hesitantly.

‘Hum?’
the guy on the front seat picked up on her response, looked at his friends and burst into laughter. They too laughed.

The guy with the beard kept staring at Rupali and only passed a smile that wasn’t as offensive as the laugh.

‘Are you just one or are you too many?’ the bearded guy asked her, this time in English. Rupali was surprised at his sudden switch of language. He was flawless in both.

Rupali couldn’t say anything, but kept wondering for a while. Even though she gathered enough courage to speak up, she stammered, ‘Sh . . . Shall I . . . a . . . a . . . answer in English or . . . in . . . in Hindi?’

This led to another bout of laughter amongst the gang. The bearded guy didn’t even smile, but a moment later, he said, ‘You don’t need to answer that one.’

Rupali sighed with relief and wiped the sweat on her forehead. And while doing so, she unknowingly ended up smearing the dirt from her hands on her forehead.

‘So tell us, why were you digging?’ the guy resumed the conversation and folded his arms across his chest.

In response, Rupali bent down and picked up a small plastic bag to her left. She opened it in front of everyone and pulled out a sapling from within it. She showed it to everyone.

It was a tiny tulsi plant.

‘I was about to plant this,’ she said without fumbling this time.

‘Lo bhai, to ab Patna, Bihar waley, Delhi mein harit-kranti le ke aayenge!’
(So, now the people from Patna, Bihar, will bring the green revolution to Delhi!) one of the two boys on the back seat of the jeep said sarcastically and clapped his hands. His friends joined in.

Suddenly, the bearded guy raised his hand, gesturing at them to stop.

‘Don’t we have enough plants already in the campus and hostel?’ he asked Rupali.

‘No, it’s not like that,’ she said in haste.

‘Then what’s the need for this one?’ the front-seat guy probed.

All this while, a miserable Rupali kept wondering if she could ask them who they were and why they were asking her so many questions. But then something told her not to.

Unable to hold eye contact for too long with the older boys, whom she didn’t even know, Rupali first framed her thoughts and then answered softly, ‘Today is my first day in this campus. It will be the first day for this plant in this campus as well.’ She wondered if her answer was making any sense to them.

However, she continued, ‘. . . For the next few years, as I grow here, I also want to see this plant growing along with me. This plant is the symbol of my dreams. I want to take care of it. One day, I will leave this campus, but this plant will continue to be here. Even when I am gone.’

For a while she didn’t hear any counter-questions to her response. So she raised her eyes to look up at the face of the guy who stood in front of her. He was staring at her with his deep dark eyes. He didn’t say anything. The rest of the boys looked at each other and waited for their leader to interrogate her further. But he didn’t say a single thing. He simply walked back and sat behind the wheel again. Unable to understand his state of mind, the other guy too walked back and sat inside the jeep.