Cardinal Numbers

826 – Two years of hitherto unknown freedom. The freedom to get out of uniform, the freedom to answer the roll call and THEN to jump out of the same class, the freedom to laze around beneath the shade of a big banyan tree and gaze longingly and in vain at girls walking to their MA classes. In vain ‘coz they would never notice us ‘kids’ of the pre-degree course. The thrill of being chased (once in a car!) by our Reverend college principal whenever he saw us lazing around. 86 guys in class. No girls. Courses like Syriac that were literally Greek and Latin. Mundane physics lab sessions. Gingerly dissections of cockroaches and frogs. The unexpected discovery of a rather interesting book called ‘Venus in India’ in the library of my catholic college. Pre-degree in Physics, Chemistry and Bio. I was 826.

510 – From a batch of 86 to a class of 14. Classes that were no longer boring and tedious monotones of Thermodynamics and Organic Chemistry. Professors who acted out Othello and Oedipus Rex instead. Three years in this band of 14. Still all guys. Attending ‘camps’ wherever we could-some in the name of academics, others in the name of personality development..all with the common agenda of meeting fairer members of our kind. Meeting with some success. A crazy trip to Pollachi in Tamil Nadu to meet and interview Malayalam superman Mammooty. Eventually succeeding in doing that too. Combined study sessions on the eve of the exams in the hope of trying to remember what happened in class the past semester. Combined liquor sessions immediately after. Hours spent in the ‘language lab’ watching cable TV. A BA in Communicative English. I was 510.

223 – Across the Western Ghats and into the hot and dry city of Chennai. A room in a Hall ( it was not, as they told me, called a hostel). Not part of the main hall, an annexe rather.My first ‘mixed’ class. Not that it made much of a difference. Going off to the city to attend German classes (!) in the city with Phoenix in the hope of bettering our (atleast mine) fortunes. Finding some sort of consolation in the form of a sub-demi godess. Journalism classes spent chatting away with the professor himself. Going out to the city to ‘headbang’ at late night rock shows.. Scaling the walls of the hall to get in. My first experience with www. An email id called shine420@123india.com. Introductions to heavy rock, campus walks and water packets. A PG Diploma in Journalism and Mass Communication. I stayed in 223.

127 & 165 – Migration to the main block in the Hall. Two years of fabulous fun. Singing bass in the college choir. Making a lot of good friends. Some of them girls. Not that it still made a significant difference. 3 guys around one cigarette. Late night singing in the outdoor auditorium in the company of a guitar. Parties in the Hall Chairman’s balcony. Setting a whole bottle of Old Monk Rum on fire just to see it burn. Dunking and getting dunked and running away from getting dunked in the hall ‘pond’. Two rooms replete with posters from top to bottom. Replacing a couple of those posters on the occasion of Hall Day ( the only day when female guests were allowed in our rooms). Two years of class sitting next to the same girl. Two years of happiness. I stayed in 127 & 165.

+9198’s – The first job. One year in 4 cities. First forays into the big cities outside Chennai. First mobile phone. First many mobile numbers..the +9198’s. The pubs in B’lore, the phat-phats in Pune, the winter in Delhi and the locals in Mumbai. The girl who was in the next seat in college comes much closer than that. A long distance love affair. Sms’s, mails, cards and letters. A blissful night in a bus trip with her from Pune to Bangalore. A miserable night two months later at the B’lore railway station. A forlorn me watching her go off home – alone.

131 – Back in the old college at Chennai. Back in a familiar hall. In an unfamiliar role. The student becomes a teacher. First experiments with the blackboard. Trousers covered in chalkdust. Sitting on the table in a gallery like classroom trying to teach Bernard Shaw to 85 first-years – some brats, some angels, some somewhere in between. Sitting in the department beside my ex-professors. Getting an insider’s view of department politics. Old memories lurking around the classrooms. Faculty room – 131

145167 –A new job. A big Indian company. Corporate environment. Lots of people come and go. Some of them very pretty too. Yet again, it makes no difference. Some people stay on and become good friends. Trips to Coonoor, Ooty, Bekal, and the odd trip to Chennai and Blore to meet old friends. The ghost of an old flame making the odd guest appearance. A new look. A weird beard. Everyman's Diary. This is me. For now.