Dreamz

It must be very late at night. I wander in the school corridors looking for someone or something. There is not a soul in sight. A solitary bulb illuminates the long, narrowing corridor. I walk on. Mrs. Kaul, the biology teacher calls out to me from far away. I turn to look at “the terror” approaching fast with fisted hands swinging furiously by her side. To my trepidation, Mrs. Kaul's voice is a high pitched screech attracting the attention of the fast appearing faces, “Your skirt is too short! Your shoes are all wrong! What were you thinking you little creep? I swear I’ll have you barred from school for this!”

The faces start to close in. They laugh at me. I collapse on the hard cold marble floor trying to evade the faces that keep appearing and then fading. I sit huddled on the ground for a long time humming “Daffodils” under my breath.

“I Wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”

I am alone in the dark dreary corridor again. I sniff hard and wipe my tear-streaked face with the back of my shirtsleeve. I get up with difficulty, still feeling weak in the knees. I shuffle along the corridor to turn into the hallway.

The sun shines through the big glass doors that have been secured with a lock. I am trapped. I sit on the beige leather couch nearby in the waiting lounge. I tuck my knees under my chin and wrap my arms around my legs to keep myself from shuddering. I drift into oblivion.

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My body hurts allover. I try to sit up but there is a shooting pain in my ankle. I must have twisted it when I fell on the hard mattress that broke my fall.

I fall back on the mattress and cry out in pain. The P.T teacher was right, being a gymnast isn’t my calling. I have failed myself yet again.

I shield my eyes to block the stadium lights, which surely are putting me in a spot of shame. I take a peek at the deserted stands and the bare field. I am relieved by my solitariness.

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I’ve got the sneezing fit again. I feel heady and my vision is blurred.

“Hi! You all right?” inquires someone from across the corridor.

I can barely see and I have trouble recognizing his voice. Another sneeze. Loud one, it shakes the ground I stand on.

He is standing very close to me now. I bury my face in the pink hand towel. He taps me on my shoulder and inquires, “You’ll blow your brain out if you continue to sneeze like that.”

I turn around to find TNM. I have had a crush on him for the longest time. Even before I can muster a smile, another sneeze carries a jet of spray and wets his face a bit. Eeeeeks!

He glares at me and stomps off.

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I chew the end of my pencil while waiting for the invigilator to give the question paper.

Mr.Jha, the tall scrawny-wrinkled mathematics teacher walks over to my desk and gives me the question paper along with the blank answer sheet. I take them both with a nervous grin.

To my horror, right at the top of the paper it reads, “Social Studies – SET C”. I look around to find everyone writing on his or her answer sheet at a furious pace. No one looks hassled, as if they expected to appear for the ‘social studies’ exam. I clearly remember the date sheet and it said ‘English’.

Holy f***in’ cow!

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I sit right at the back of the class with some of my classmates waiting for my parents turn to speak to Mrs. Chitnus, my class teacher. My parents look like they anticipate good news.

Mrs. Chitnus looks animated. She signals my folks to take the front desk, which is directly opposite hers. She smiles warmly at them and starts talking. It can’t be all that bad!

Dad looks back and waves at me. I walk up to where my folks are seated and stand behind them.

It is terrible! My class teacher complains incessantly about me to my parents. She is suddenly withdrawn and aloof too. She tells my parents I need to work on my inter-personal skills. She praises the fact that I write and speak well, but is upset about the fact that I frequently get into fistfights with the boys in my class. Most of the girls in my class find me snobbish and they don’t want to sit next to me.

My parents are told categorically to take me out of this school and are advised to start home education instead. Mrs. Chitnus is convinced that’s the best option for someone as anti-social as me.

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I wake up with a start. It is freezing cold and the quilt has fallen off the bed. I look at the bedside clock to check the time. The bold blinking digits show ‘5:45’. I can’t help but snort in disgust. I feel like I haven’t slept a wink and its already morning. I gather the quilt up and snuggle under it to laze for another 15 minutes before I switch on the geezer. A quick snooze never hurt anyone!

Considering the day began even before last night could end properly, I am in a dark, cloudy and thunderous mood. I am definitely in the mood to have all things rich, starting with coffee, progressing to chocolates and ending with a man. If only…

Once at work, I hop over to ‘Coffee in a Corner’ and get a steaming hot Latte in a takeaway glass. I carry that over to my little ‘C&C’ corner… (Coffee and Cigarettes). The cold wind is freezing the living daylights out of me! The scalding liquid mercifully warms my throat and definitely thaws my mood and makes it faintly sunny. The whole inhalation process is extremely therapeutic. I still stand by the fact that the best thing in the world is smoking. Sex comes a close second.

The object of my interest and the obvious conclusion to my current chain of thoughts appears out of thick misty morning air. I am even better now.

Mr. Gulati: “Sorry about disappearing without a trace the other day.”

I can’t resist a jibe; “Ah! You mean from the work luncheon almost ten days ago? You are forgiven. There were a lot of other people you know, so you didn’t really leave me standing.”

Mr. Gulati: “Hmmm.”

Now that was a little gruff.

I am surprised I am even thinking coldly when it comes to my femininity being hurt. From Manav Gulati to simply Mr. Gulati. Is his position elevated or am I turned off? I can’t be sure.

Another peace pipe of sorts, on another cold winter morning and I am still none the wiser.

F*** it!

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(to be continued...)