'The' Life

Strolling on the searing sands of the Marina- at about three in the afternoon of a scorching summer day- made me regret our decision of choosing to go there. But as we were there already, we chose to stick to our course and headed closer to the shore. We had a bottle of 7up, a cup of Gluco-plus and a cigarette-for Gowtham, as company. I was under the impression that he'd brought me there simply because we had nothing else to do, but once we were perched on the relatively cooler sands, a few feet away from the salty waters, he opened up. Blowing out a stream of smoke into the gentle breeze, he started a somber narration of the events that had unfolded in the past few months of his life.

He'd come across an old schoolmate of his on-board public transport, and she'd flashed him a smile that'd had him going nuts. He'd then ransacked his contacts, got in touch with some of his old friends and managed to coax them into giving him her contact details. He'd then started having long ardent chats with her and eventually he'd proposed his love for her. But before the girl could develop any significant feelings for him, one of her guy-friends stepped in, and boy did he mess things up! Sensing that the girl had begun drifting apart from him- thanks to his new newly found rival- he'd come out of his shell and confessed his undying love for her, which'd then screwed things up and left my friend fending for himself.

All the while he was lamenting, I could do little else than to stare into the distance and give him occasional nods of recognition. I was well aware that only time healed such wounds and that I was of little help. As he was pointing out to how better off he would've been if it weren't for that girl, storm clouds slowly began invading the late afternoon sky, and gradually made their way towards the horizon. The offshore winds from the tainted skies started overwhelming the sea breeze and we were left craving for a rain storm. If anything could soothe a tormented soul, it was a tropical shower on the shores of a beach. But the rains kept us waiting and we were losing hope. 

Gowtham then told me that he needed to spend some time alone. I couldn't deny him the pleasure and so we started walking separate ways, heading in different directions. Before long, a drop of rain hit against the back of my palm. As I looked to the skies with a keen sense of joy blossoming within me, the heavens opened up. The people on the shore were scurrying to find cover but I stood my ground, allowing the rain to dowse me to the last inch. It was exciting, enthralling, absolutely exhilarating. The droplets extricated me off of my dumbing numbness and an overwhelming emotion gushed to my surface. The weight of what Gowtham had described hit me and I could feel his pain of having to cope with a broken heart. But the cool shower was unrelenting and I could feel it cleansing me off of every vile emotion. I wanted to laugh out loud, I wanted to roll over and cry my heart out, I wanted to pray. The sight was so beautiful and the shower so refreshing, it could make any grown man cry. I couldn't remember the last time when I had my emotions heightened to such an extent. Gowtham ought to have enjoyed it as well. 

I strode along the shore on a lookout for him, all the while stifling a laugh- a laugh that kept popping out of nowhere with no need or purpose. I guess I just wanted to laugh at how extra-ordinary life can turn out to be at times when you least expect it. I caught sight of Gowtham at a distance, diving into the torrents. I half jogged, half sprinted to join him. We got rid of our t-shirts and allowed the waves to wash over us. We then screamed as loud as we could afford, alleviating us of all our pent up emotions. The storm brought with it an array of lightning and there was every possibility of us getting hit by at-least one of them. To be honest, I was a bit scared. But then I reminded myself, what better way is there to die? We danced in the downpour like mad men until we were exhausted. 

The rain slowed down to a drizzle and later halted. Not minding the showers, I'd taken out my cell phone and had snapped a few pictures of our outing. After all, what better way is there to remind myself of one of the best days of my life? 

Operation Silvia!

Sarbudeen was apparently very impressed by the prank that I had carried out with Aravind, but he was morose for not having got any part to play in it. So, a month later, he said, 'Dei innoru thadava panlan da' and suggested Bivinlin's name. But I knew Bivinlin was a tough nut to crack and my perceptions were indeed right, he was on to our plot even before it started. I accepted defeat, but Sarbudeen wasn't disheartened, not by a long shot. 'Dei Sam irukan da' he said the next evening. I wasn't really in the mood for a prank that day, so I vaguely replied 'Venam da, bore adikuthu'. But Sarbudeen was persistent. I decided to comply only when he agreed to do majority of the work himself. He also came up with a brilliant story.

"Silvia is a pretty girl from class 12T. She is one of the toppers of her class and a good friend of Sarbudeen. She very recently requested him for Sam's contact number. So Sarbudeen (being a good friend) tells Sam everything good about Silvia and also sends him her contact, asking him to await her message."

Sarbudeen spun the tale to perfection and then asked me to get into the act.
'Hi Samuel' I said, from my mom's mobile (Sam didn't have that contact).
He replied, but I don't remember what, it must've been something mundane. We had a quiet chat that day, but in the day that followed I decided to hit the groove,

'I saw you at the entrance today, you looked so charming' I said.

His reaction wasn't that very scintillating. I tried saying other stuff, but he stayed glued to his I-don't-give-a-fuck act. Although, he would send me an odd forward every once in a while, forwards that he didn't bother sending to any of his other friends. The conversation got really dull over time, so I started curbing my replies. One fine day, I stopped altogether. I didn't think it would make any difference for him. 

Sarbudeen however, texted me a few days later and asked me why I wasn't returning Sam's messages. I bluntly told him that I wasn't interested. For this he started scolding me, trying to get me to play along, but my heart was just not in it.

The next day at class, I sat beside Sarbudeen and he asked me again, 'Dei en da avanukku reply panna matra? Avan romba feel aavuran da'. I gave out a throaty laugh and said 'Neeye paathuko da'. For which he said 'Nee than da ponnu, nee illana onnum panna mudiyathu'. I had nothing meaningful to reply him with.

Seeing that Silvia wasn't replying, a worried Sam had asked Sarbudeen about it. Now Sarbudeen, being a master tales man, cooked up yet another impressive story.

"Silvia got just 85% (EIGHTY FIVE PERCENT!!) in an English test that was recently held. Her parents, being the usual demanding type, took away her cell phone, wanting her to pay better attention towards studying."

Once I reached home that evening, I checked the inbox on my mom's cell (I hadn't bothered doing it for the past couple of days). It was full with Sam's forwards and other 'How was your day?' texts. The real reason why I wasn't returning his messages was because texting wasn't free of cost on my mom's mobile. I despised having to quarrel with her for blowing up the bills. So, I didn't reply for those texts as well.

A few days passed by and I totally forgot about operation Silvia. The only thing that reminded me of it again was Sarbudeen's text. He just wouldn't stop nagging me.

The next day at school, me, Sarbudeen and Sam, sat side by side on the last row, during the interval. I was lazily brooding over my first love and Sarbudeen, who sat to my right, was having a chat with Sam, who sat at the far end. 

'Naa avala love panren da' Sam said about Silvia (I wasn't paying attention to this though). However, Sarbudeen's roar of laughter brought me to my senses. He pointed his finger at me and said 'Adapavi ivan than da antha Silvia'. Sam's face grew pale in an instant, as he gaped at me. He swiftly turned his gaze away from us and hit the desk, covering his face. I and Sarbudeen had the laugh of our lives. I honestly hadn't contemplated Sam trusting our act, leave alone falling in love with Silvia. Sam's reactions fuelled our laughter beyond comprehension. He however, was deeply hurt. I felt bad for hurting him, but come to think of it, that was the point.

That evening, I had a chat with Sarbudeen again, 'Naa appave sonnala da, ava feel avuran nu' He said 'nee olunga reply pannirunthu avana innum konja love panna vechirukalam da...cha!'

That Rainy Rainy Day!!

It was a rainy day. The downpour was in fact so heavy that more than half the class absented itself. But it was the usual (aka. exciting) day for me. I set course to carry out my morning routine of procuring the Leader's report from the Head's office. As I made my way, I happened to come across Akshaya (Oh her grace! Oh that face!). I was in a daze, as I strolled back to the classroom. Now that I had seen her, I genuinely believed that the rest of my day would be a breeze, if not a let-down.

The first hour teacher must have taken a leave of absence herself, she didn't drop by. A PT teacher took over in her stead. He had nothing meaningful to say, so he asked us to submit our hand books. He said he wanted to check for our parent's signature on the previous day's homework reminder. Just about then, I realized I was a defaulter. Aravind, who sat to my left, was meddling with a pen in his hand. I quietly gave him my handbook and said, 'Parents sign pottu kudra'. Without much ado, he took the handbook and flipped to the previous day's column. He then started penning down his signature at the bottom. And now of all time, he decides to heed to every tiny detail. Before he could finish, the PT busted him. 'Enna panran avan?' he asked, gesturing towards Aravind, who quickly slammed my handbook shut. 'Enna parent's sign ah?' he asked, as he moved in to grab the handbook. 'Illa sir, vera oru edathula than eluthitu irunthen' Aravind lied. But it sounded pathetic. The PT clearly didn't buy his excuse, yet 'Entha edathula eluthuna nu kaami' he said, after having a short glance at the signature. Aravind then frantically searched my handbook, trying to find some sort of writing in black ink, but there weren’t any. If only he had used a blue pen, he would've had some sort of luck. However, he did find some black scribbling at the margins. But the PT saw right through his little act. He asked Aravind and me (yes, he read the name on the handbook) to accompany him to the Head's office. That's when Aravind started weeping like a bride who just lost her husband. I panicked myself, but not anywhere as close as him. 

The head's office was (to our appeasement) empty. The only person there was Malathy Rayan. The PT reported us to her and quietly made his way back to our classroom. Malathy started enquiring us, we didn't try to deny anything, Aravind's sob however, was winning us her favour. She then took hold of both our hand-books and asked us to retrieve it later from Mr. Muruganantham. An overwhelming fear hit me as I heard his name. I knew for a fact that he wouldn't be remotely polite in dealing with us in the matter.

We were back in class and Aravind still didn't stop crying. Everyone had a wonderful time admiring his dismal state. I too would've, if it weren't for the trauma that I was in. I gradually recovered from it though.

It was Tamil hour next and Vijayakumar sir walked into the room. He noticed Aravind weeping (not that he was trying to hide it) and started questioning him. Aravind found it hard to speak with all the emotions choking his throat, so the others helped him with it. 'Nee nalla payan aache, nee en apdi panna?' Vijayakumar asked. Aravind had nothing to say. I felt relieved to see him not pointing fingers. 'Naa avanga kitta poi unna pathi nallatha solren' Vijayakumar boasted, as always (But he did nothing). We boys, being too few in number, occupied the last row for that hour. The class began and a short while later, Vijayakumar cracked a nutty joke. Someone made a loud funny noise, trying to humiliate him. The outcome was an infuriated teacher. With a belligerent tone, Vijayakumar asked the culprit to reveal himself. None responded (obviously). He asked the same a couple more times, still no luck. As his best guess, he then picked out Sarbudeen, Samuel and Mahizan. Those three sat to my far left, so I had no real idea of who actually did it. Bringing his so called investigation skills into play, Vijayakumar individually called each of those three out on to the corridor, starting with Sarbudeen. A few tense minutes of inquisition and then it was Sam's turn. Mahizan followed soon after. 

When it was all over, Vijayakumar walked in with his head held high, he apparently figured out who the culprit was.He called Sam forward and spoke in a soft tone, 'Naa appave surrender aaga chance kuduthen, but nee kekala'. Sam tried to protest, but before he could finish his sentence, Vijayakumar landed six vigorous slaps on his face, three on each side, special delivery from hell. Sam made no fuss whatsoever about it as he stuttered back to his place. However, he didn't take his hands off of his cheeks for the next couple of hours.

The interval arrived and we all gathered around Sam, curious to know if the slaps had hurt. 'Dei innumum valikutha da' he said. We couldn't help smirking. We then had to turn our thoughts towards more pressing matters. How do we get our handbooks back?

I and Aravind faltered towards the head's office again, but there was no one there yet. We were exasperated. The wait would only worsen things up. But thank goodness Aravind had stopped crying.

Hours rolled by and it was evening before we knew it. We stood in front of the heads office yet again, but Muruganantham sir was nowhere to be seen. However, we did find TamilVaanan sir idling outside in the corridors. We confronted him with a casual façade and asked, 'Sir, our handbooks are in Muruganantham sir's cabin and he is not here. Ummm...can we take it?' We tried to not give him any insight whatsoever of what happened. 'It's ok, you go take it' he said in his breezy voice. I was finally able to ease my tensed muscles. Before Muruganantham sir could return, we rummaged his cabin and found our handbooks. We then ran for our lives. When we were at a safe distance from the head's office, we both heaved a sigh of relief.

I am glad that day is over!

The Mount.

The vivid images of our visit to Kerala were still so crisp in memory. I found myself reminiscing as I lazily made my way to college. My cell phone screen lit up as I got a text message notifying me that classes stood cancelled as a result of the recent down-pour. And just then, when I was about to make my way back home, Nanda cajoled me into meeting up at college.

We both sat at Ragavender's room, enjoying a movie. Suhail got a phone call from his girl and so he decided to part with us (Good riddance!).

Movies weren't really doing justice to the marvelous climate that loomed overhead, so we decided to take a walk. We had a little snack at the canteen and then bought the Record-Notebooks that Ragavendar needed (It was already the end of semester). As we strode back, Ragavendar exclaimed 'Semma climate da! Trekking pona super ah irkum'. He has always been the one to come up with such fascinating ideas. We readily agreed. We were on our way to St. Thomas mount.

We bought our train tickets and the travelling turned out to be a total bliss. The cool breeze buffing against our faces had our legs afloat. We disembarked and had to cover some ground before we could reach the hills. I wouldn't say the stroll was pleasant in anyway, but Ragavendar ought to have had a wonderful time, after all, walking is second nature to him, he could walk as easy as he could breathe, he could walk all day without shedding so much as a drop of sweat. 

St Thomas mount happens to be a hill that stands overlooking my primary school. As I strolled through the streets with the well acquainted buildings on either side, I was hit by a nostalgic vibe, I felt like a child again. Ragavendar, who was guiding us to our destination up until then, seemingly ran out of directions. But I knew that place like the back of my hand. We had no troubles reaching the hill. Though I couldn't help noticing how everything around me had shrunk since the last time I laid eyes upon them. Maybe it was just me who grew bigger.

Climbing the footpath to the hill-top was no easy task (except for Ragavendar of course). We were dowsed in sweat by the time we made it. But it was all worth it. The view from the top was nothing less than spectacular. We moved to a spot where we could let the winds invade every nook and cranny of ours. We took a couple of pictures of ourselves (maybe a few more!) and then went on to rest our butts on a grassy slope which held a Runway in sight. We had already had a fair share of seeing Air-crafts take off and land, so we didn't really give them much notice. We hardly carried any money, so buying anything whatsoever was a clear red sign. We had no need for it any-ways, we already felt as if we had all the luxury in the world. Ragavendar handed me his Record-notebooks and asked me to put a cross on it (If you don't already know what it is, you will shortly). If he were to get the records signed this late in the semester, he obviously needed a lot of blessings, and what better place is there to seek it, than in a church? 

Then came this time when Nanda asked Ragavendar to take a picture of him as he ran, but Ragavendar was so horrible with a camera that the picture he snapped caught Nanda in the most awkward of all positions. It was a good laugh, but Ragavendar continued to torment us with his photography skills. There was only so much we could tolerate. We finally made a decision to never opt him to be the one behind the camera, ever, unless of course, we were left with no other choice. We spent a couple of hours idling away in peace and then it was time to leave. 

Walking down hill was a real pain as well. Gravity was no friend of ours. But Nanda came up with an idea that we later called 'The breaking system'. We arched our spine backwards as we walked down the slope. This way we got the leverage required to keep us from speeding out of control. The only down-side of this technique is that it made us look like pregnant women. Oh well..!

The train ride back was a breeze as well. It was over-all a perfect day.     

The Friend that never was.

It was year 2009. I don't exactly remember why, but I sent Aravind a text message. He replied saying 'who is this?’. Only then did I realize that he didn't have my contact, but I knew for sure that he had my mom's number stored under my name. My eyes went ablaze as I sensed the opportunity.

'I am Abi', I said.

'Which Abi?'
'Abi from your class'
'lol, who Abi?'
I got really frustrated at this point and I mindlessly replied, 
'Dei naaye, Abirami da'
'Oh, Hi'
What the... how did he not smoke me out for that? Any-ways, now that he acknowledged my fake identity, I was exposed to a world of possibilities. Later, he asked, 'Who gave you my number?'
'Raj Kumar' I said, making a mental note to later ask him to play along.
I then sent Kishore, Bivinlin and Gowtham a text each, asking them to suggest me the name of girl, a classmate, around whom I can spin a tale. I also notified them about my attempts to make a fool out of Aravind. They sent me a name each, but none rang a bell whatsoever. So I selected one on my own. After a few minutes of mirthful confabulation, I was certain that Araba was genuinely falling for my trickery. When the time felt right, I said 'A girl from our class is so madly in love with you'. His reply didn't take long to come by. In fact, none of them did. But if it were me or some other boy that were to text him, it would've taken him a lifetime to respond. 
'OMG, who?' He asked.
'It’s Raasi'

On learning this, he started dowsing me with all his exasperating exclaims. I had to bear with them all. We then chatted till nightfall, nothing intimate though, I had decided to save them all for the next day.

It was a fabulous Sunday morning and I woke up with a spring in my step. And guess what? Araba had already dropped me a message. I wanted to spice things up that day and so I asked my friends to send him a text which contained something like…
'Dei Raasi unna love panralame?'
He obviously asked them how they knew. They just blatantly replied that Abirami had started exchanging texts with them too. And Of course, he enquired the same with me (Abi), but thank goodness he didn’t linger on that topic for too long. To add even more Drama, I sent my mom's contact to Araba and asked him, 'Do you know whose number this is? He keeps nagging me with all these texts and he doesn't even reveal himself'
In no time at all, I got a reply,
'lol, it's Sanjay'.
There, I somehow managed to bring myself into the story.
'But how did he get my number...?'

'Dei Abirami ku text panriya? Ava number epdi kedachuthu?' Araba's message flashed on my Mom's cell.
'Gowtham kuduthan da' I said. (I also replied to the few other questions that he later asked).

Enacting my script kept me so preoccupied that day, I hadn't been that busy in all my life. I had to simultaneously text Araba from two different mobiles and also had to keep my friends posted every now and then, they were hungry for news. I later took my mom's cell out of the scenario as it proved to be too much to handle. However, Araba was relentless in asking me all those crappy questions like, what are my favorite colors and this and that. I was inclined to reply (psst!). But I still craved for the day to be even more exhilarating. So...

'I have a huge crush on a boy from our class' I told Aravind.
'lol, who?' he asked.
'Samuel'
I hadn't got to know Sam as much as I would've wanted to by then, so I was having second thoughts about bringing him into the scenario. Anyways, it was already too late to take back what I said, so I decided to play along with it.

'What doing?' Araba asked me that afternoon. It was a very pleasant evening, a perfect time for romance. So I said 
'Just fantasizing a duet with Sam'

'lol, carry on', he replied.
Knowing my school, where objectifying a girl in any way is punishable by death, if the real Abirami were to know I misused her name, and if she were to file a complaint with the school authorities, I would certainly have to face suspension. The thought of it made a chill run down my spine. I wanted to take all possible precautions, and so I told Aravind 
'Just because I text you, it doesn't mean you are free to come talk to me'
'lol, I have never had a conversation with you, why would I want to do it now?' He said.
'Good' 
That went really well.

It was dusk and I was sprawled in bed with my earphones on. Araba sent me yet another text,

'Hey I lost your contact number, call me once so I can store it'. To help him with his pesky problem, I gave him a call and quickly cut it off before he could answer.
'What did you just do?' he asked. Only then did it hit me that I'd been made a fool of (I still can't believe I fell for that stupid trick, It must’ve been because I was so involved in the day’s events). I didn't know what to reply, I was stranded. Araba sent another one,
'I didn't know you were this stupid'.
For this I had an appropriate answer,
'If only you knew how stupid you really are!', I said.
He didn't understand what I implied (Of course not, how would he?).

The hour was getting late and I had almost reached my messaging limit. I had just one more free message left in my pack. This is when Araba asked me 'Shall I tell Sam about all this?'

Hell no, moron. 
'No, please don’t' I said.
That drained my message booster. But the faggot replied 'lol I already called him, he knows'. It seems so juvenile to think of it now, but I almost had my heart in my throat when I read that text. I swore under by breath will all profanity and then, not minding the charges, I sent him another text.
'What did he say?'
'lol, Nothing'

I was anxious at school the next morning, as I briefly narrated the weekend's events to Gowtham. I also kept chanting silent prayers for Araba and Abirami to not converse with each other on their way to class. When Araba laid his eyes upon us that morning; he went straight for our feet, saying 'Dei yaaru kittayum antha matter ah sollathinga da' (I heaved a sigh of relief). It felt so alleviating to know that he didn't screw things up for me. Later, Sam entered the class, headed straight for Araba and they started hissing to each other. Bivinlin (who arrived a short while later) joined me and Gowtham, and we started cracking jokes together. I don't exactly know what Araba filled him up with, but Sam stood up from his place, glared at all three of us and blurted 'Ithukulam ivanunga than da karanam'. Sam almost made me believe that he despised being adored by a girl. Such acting!

Once the bell rang, we were lined outside the classroom, preparing to head to the auditorium to attend our cycle tests. We didn't fancy having any loose ends in our play, so we struck up a conversation with Raj Kumar and asked him to lie to Araba about giving Abirami his number. One tiny mistake we did was to not heed the presence of Araba right behind us.

And that is how our perfectly good plot came to an end. And that is the day since when we started teasing Aravind with Raasi.

lol.

Hail Baba.

It was the official start of our final year of schooling. Thanks to the generous hand of the transfer students, we had already earned a reputation as an unruly pack of mongrels. We were well aware of the jeopardy that we would land ourselves in, yet we overlooked the need to curb our incessant chattering. Little did we know that we would have to pay a hefty price for all our recklessness, for in came the Destroyer, a man hell bent on bringing us down to our knees.

Life was good at Velammal, but then Mr. Ramesh Babu walked in through the doors.

A grim faced thin man with darkened eye sockets and pronounced cheek bones strode into our classroom. An eerie silence fell upon all of us. The looks of him gave us an escalating sense of foreboding. He started moving around the room, like a ghost in the wind, curiously tailed by our unwavering gazes. A few moments passed by in excruciating silence and finally the man, who gave us the impression of a psycho killer, coughed out his first words to us.

I strained every last muscle in my body trying to put off the impending laughter. Sam and Gowtham's muffled snickering from behind wasn't really helping. The man, with all his belligerent looks, sounded like Alvin and the chipmunks. But thank goodness! Our snorting went unnoticed.

He carried on avidly, describing about himself, about how he is the new Vice Principal of the School and about how he is the worst possible teacher that one could ever have. Just about then, when I was feeling a surge of relief for not having him as my tutor, he informed us that he would be assuming the role of our new Math teacher from that moment on. My heart sank in despair. Having someone as moronic as him for a teacher, I could very well give up my hopes of scoring a centum in Math. By the way he spoke of it; he had no greater knowledge about the subject than I did. I could almost sense that he would put us to ruin. It was by all means inevitable.

I found it hard to digest all these horrendous turn of events, but Sriram wasn't the least bit concerned. Unfortunately for him, he had to face the wrath of the Serpent as a consequence. ‘Dei Dog’ is how Babu addressed him.

We knew we would have to put up with the Snake for an entire year; we embraced ourselves for the rough ride.

Baba was the weirdest of all the Math teachers I've ever had. He would at the very most, solve a single problem each hour. At such a staggering pace, it would've been no surprise if it had taken us seven lifetimes to go through the entire syllabus. Though it was easy to comprehend his teachings, his methodology had me worried sick. He spoke about centums as if they were a stroll in the park. According to him, even a kid could do it, provided it has his tutoring. He looked like a man on a mission, but i just couldn't bring myself to trust him.

Coaching classes weren't really meant to nurture the entire class, but the serpent forced it on us. Of course we were free to walk away, but we knew better not to. His stern gazes warned us of the nightmares that he would bring upon us if we were to bunk them. He made us oblige to his every command. He made us realize that a man in power is capable of doing anything.

Teachings aside, there was a lot of other stuff that Baba did, that helped keep our tongues rolling. Whenever he got too tired of working out math, he would put everything apart and start reminiscing. He would take us back to his time and describe to us what a failure he had been. He almost flunked his high school board exams and in order to save himself and his parents from the shame, he had convinced his family to flee the neighborhood. He had then put all of his thought and actions towards getting into a reputed college. After months of mental strain, his perseverance paid off and he cracked the entrance exams of MIT, chrompet. But once inside, he went astray again. He bunked classes, roamed about town and went to spectate cricket matches when he ought to be preparing for his semesters. His grades were a disaster. He had to watch all his college mates fly away to far off countries, while he was spanning the streets in search for a job. In due time, he realized Teaching is the only choice he had left, but that too didn't come by easily. He had to face harsh criticism at every step, but he started learning from each of them. He had started learning how to survive.

Babu's stories were always interesting, they helped us take our minds off of daily proceedings and more importantly, they reminded us that our lives were only just beginning. 

Babu had one simple rule- obey me or be destroyed. Every once in a while he would ask us a simple math question, like 'what is a straight line?’ We would tell him the answers we know, but none of them would gain his approval. He would tell us the description in words of his choice and would order us to write them down a hundred times. It wasn't that stupid a technique; I still remember every imposition he had us do.

We all became regular coaching class students, we attended each and every one of Babu’s classes, except this one time when we took him for granted. But we had to suffer the consequence when we tried to attend the coaching class the following day, he wouldn't let us in. What was worse is that he ordered us to go back home. We would've gladly excercised his command. But we knew Babu had a twisted, conniving mind. If we were to leave, he would take that up as a reason to torment us in the future. In a short while though, he had a change of heart and let us in (phew!).

The extra classes did help us get to know a lot about him. This one time Babu punched Surendher in the chest, who, with moist eyes, went on to describe it as A One-Inch punch. Another time, when Naveen sundhar wronged a problem that was assigned for us, Babu said a legendary phrase that will forever be inscribed in our memory 'Enna da Baadu mathri sum potruka?’ Babu was our hero. But Surendher went on to complain about Babu's atrocity, to his dad, who later gave Babu a visit. Rumour has it that Babu almost peed his pants that day. Another dignitary of the coaching classes was Sriram. In the time it took us to revise both 10 and 6mark problems assigned to us, he would complete one quarter of only the 10 marks. Calling him a slow poke would be an embellishment.

During the special classes, Babu would train us only in a few hand-picked problems. With other teachers usually being the ones to prepare the questionnaire, there was always possibility that those select few question might not feature in the paper. But we had no need to fear. As cunning as he is, Babu would use his authority and modify the paper for us. Other Math tutors started sending forth their students to request us for those select questions. We were free to order them around as we pleased. Babu made us feel like kings and queens.

We were making the usual commotion one afternoon and Muruganantham sir stepped in to shut us up. He gave us the usual piece of advice and then started straying off topic, to Babu. He told us that almost every relative of his perished since the time he joined the school and that Babu hadn't yet been blessed with a child. Not to mention the wad of health issues that had accrued in him. He also quoted Babu saying 'romba kasthama irukku aiyya'. His narration was so saddening that we had to literally blink back tears. Our perspective about Babu changed since that day.

The Board practical exams were being held, and Jayagopal was struggling with his experiment. Babu walked up to him and drew out a small sheet of paper from his top pocket. ‘Enna da, venuma?’ he asked as tried handing over the ‘bit’ to him. I mean who does that? Babu made Jayagopal shit bricks that day.

The Final exam preparations were hectic. We put all our faith in Babu as we started preparing for only those 50 or so problems that he hand-picked for us. If his predictions were to misfire, we would curse him for the rest of our lives. But it didn’t.

Babu is one of those few teachers whom I really respect. He is our Destroyer.

Amma Laptop.

We stared down at the feedback slip in our hands with a malicious grin on our faces. We had received our free laptops a few days ago and now we were asked to comment on it. Our minds were going astray, we knew very well that the feedback sheet would have to go through SPS, and that he wouldn't consider turning us in as an option. Moreover Arivu had already commented,
‘Ellame free ah kadaicha, aen ulaika vednum?’
He was our biggest inspiration. So after not much thought, I pulled out my pen and jotted down, ‘Vaalga valamudan’. I seriously have no ideas why I penned down that quote. Then it was Vishal's turn, he snatched the pen away from my grasp and scribbled down, ‘Beauty’ (A Synonym for our most loved... in fact the only loved Math teacher, Mr.Prabakaran). Nanda strained his forehead, trying to squeeze out something catchy, he came up with, ‘Amma'vukku nandri’. After all, she is supposedly the one that got us the laptops. Suhail was void of any such ideas, so he copied Nanda, almost word for word, ‘Ammamma Vaalga’.

We knew SPS would set out on a quest to find us once he lays eyes upon our scribbling. We were half hoping for it to happen sooner rather than later. 

We were in the midst of a wide eyed slumber during the Computer Architecture lecture the next day, when SPS came about knocking the door. Suhail as usual had absented himself from the day’s classes, so it was just us three. SPS read out from a list of names and asked for us to gather in the neighboring room. To our surprise, Nanda's name wasn't read out. But we knew for sure it was a mistake. There was no way he was sidestepping from this. 

We gathered in the adjacent lecture room as requested. SPS called forth each of us individually and started inquiring our stupidity. There were a lot of girls in the gathering too, but their crimes were not as notorious as ours. Dinesh was called for, I tried to pry on their conversation, but SPS was as always, inaudible, but I was able to ask Dinesh what he'd written once he was sent back. 'Company laptop ah iruntha nalla irkum'. I couldn't help smirking. Then it was Vishal's turn. I could see him straining not to giggle at what he'd written. SPS gave him a whitener pen and asked him to edit the comment (Dinesh had been asked to do the same). After him, it was me. I stood, looking down upon SPS as he sat on a bench. He pointed at my comment on the feedback sheet and asked,'enna pa ithu?'. I had already rehearsed my answer, 'Sir, Vaalga valamudan is tamil for thank you'. I didn’t even care if I was making sense. I was hell bent on trying not to laugh. Breathe, breathe. After hearing what I had to say, SPS glared at me at first, then his features broadened in amusement. That's it, I burst out laughing, I couldn't help it any longer. What was bad is that I couldn't bring myself to stop. SPS didn’t appear to be getting furious, so I took time calming myself down. Then I apologized to him and started changing my comment. Only then did I remember that I needed my laptop's serial number to complete the feedback. But I had already discarded the cartridge in which the laptop was presented. So after enacting a phone call home, I filled in a random number, it wasn't that hard. Just about then, my eyes stumbled upon two other comments. Ramesh's row had the entry 'Dheivame!' and Gowtham's had 'very worst' scribbled beside a few dashed out words. Both those feedbacks had everything to do with us. We had seen an opportunity and had pounced on it. Ramesh was unaware of our comment and so it had been left unaltered, but it was obvious that we weren't that lucky with Gowtham, for in he had already stroked out Vishal's comment on his behalf, 'Parappalavu Sirithu'. Nevertheless, he was called forth for his edited comment (Actually, everyone who hadn't given 'good' for a feedback were asked to gather). All was well. 

SPS had stayed calm, until the part where he hadn't read Arivu's comment. He then started fuming. 'Nee laptop ah return pannidu pa' he said. Arivu maintained his composure and sat next to SPS and started explaining things rather seriously. I don't know what he cooked up, but SPS didn't take long to let him go. Later, when everyone's turn was over, it was Nanda's time to face justice. Vishal helped summon him and then it was the usual routine. We both stood outside the threshold, smirking at Nanda trying to explain himself. When it was all over, we headed back to class together. It turned out to be a Marvellous day, one that will forever remain etched in memory. 

If our faculty advisor were anyone else other than SPS, we wouldn't have dared to risk doing anything as such. We did it because we firmly believed that he would always treat us as one of his own. This is one memory of him we would cherish for eternity. We would remember him as the professor who would stay calm even if the world was to end in a few hours.