Change.
The 6-letter wizard that features from Darwin's Theory of Evolution to Barack Obama's Presidential Campaign.
The magic that can bind two enemies together and pull lovers apart.
The only thing missing in my gigantic bag when prodded by the bus conductor on my way home.
Love it or hate it, you won't escape it. My turn was while transitioning into college.
14 years of academic achievements earned me the inescapable title of a 'Nerd' which countless number of friends would stand in line to testify.
All it took was the launch of my medical studies, or the lack thereof, to dispose any such impression.
I had no impossible dream of anything staying the same. Surrounded by all things brand new, I anticipated most of the differences in the external environment. It's just that I was hardly prepared for changes from within.
Guess the two were complementary.
More than anything, change was what I was dying to execute into everything in sight.
From the classes that called for superhuman effort to focus beyond ten seconds to the copious amounts of sunlight that toasted skin a nasty shade of brown.
Things continued uneventfully till, one day, two third-year students strode in to our lecture hall, following Anatomy period, to announce the launch of a state-level inter-college festival. Resurrected after a five year hiatus, this time our college was to host the three-days-long show.
Parivartan 2010 - A 'Revolution'in its own terms had Samreen and me signing up for group song auditions at a whim. But as the selection date drew closer, I was convinced I'd made yet another blunder, more so after Fresher's Day.
When we were called into the auditorium for tryouts, my thoughts kept shifting from 'let's just get this over with' to 'it's still not too late to turn back'.
After an initial round by already-established singers, they invited the minnows onstage one-by-one. By then just wanting to get out of the place, I voluntarily walked up to the stand and grabbed the mic. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I decided to sing Hindi, despite not being confident about the lyrics.
The uncertainty shone through as my voice began to shake uncontrollably.
'Aw, to hell with it', I thought and announced I was switching to English and went about doing a Céline Dion cover without much trouble, before replacing the microphone and taking my seat in the audience. At least none of the twenty-something people gathered there laughed at that one, I noted.
Next up was Samreen, who approached the keyboard and introduced herself, apologetically explaining that it had been some time since she played the instrument. Lowering a few expectations thus, fingertips made contact with the white keys and some black - within seconds she had the entire hall under her spell. Two or more requests later, she too returned to her place. A couple other singing auditions later, we were all let off, without further notice.
Meanwhile, seeing no other way out, I slowly adapted to life in Mysore. Almost. The keralites strengthened their unity with presents and treats on each other's birthdays that felt awkward in the beginning, but natural eventually.
Other than the 13 who had arrived via the AIPMT seats, there were 3 Karnataka-bred Malayalees who'd entered through the Common Entrance Test quota - one from Mangalore, one from Tumkur and one, Bangalore. The last one, the sole guy among the three, had forfeited seats in IIT, NITs and BITS-Pillani to choose a career in medicine right here in Mysore, or so had the grapevine. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or feel sympathetic.
Nostalgia hit me every time I thought about life in the UAE, but I was convinced I was the only one from the other side of the Arabian Sea that I hardly mentioned it unless asked about it.
So imagine my surprise when one day after class, while waiting at a street corner, I run into one of the members of the Malayalee family accompanied by the IIT-guy, as I had casually labelled him in my head, also known by his real name, Melvyn.
It was the first time I even saw him, so the last question I expected him to ask was, "Is it true you'd studied abroad?"
When I replied in the affirmative, he further inquired where.
"Abu Dhabi."
"Oh, me too! I'd studied in Sharjah!"
I would have done some cartwheels if I weren't stunned. And if I had any idea how to.
"But, how? What? When? Aren't you a Bangalore kid or something? How did you even write the CET?" I ask, echoing the man at the counselling center who had doubted my very eligibility in writing the Pre-Med Test.
Informing that his mother's Bangalore upbringing coupled with his post-tenth grade studies there was ample for him to attempt the exam, we went our different ways after some more small talk that was anything but 'small' in terms of revelations.
A couple of days later, good news arrived in the form of Samreen's addition to the group song, one of the seven major events of the Fest. The only other first-year-student included was the star-already-in-the-making Rahul, as expected.
With practice sessions that lasted into the night, days inched closer towards the event. All enthusiasm washed out by then, most people packed up and rushed home.
I was one of the few that remained behind, not wanting to miss out on Samreen's performances, who had, by then, gotten a place in the college band's item in the Rock show along with Rahul. Neither did I want to pass up on an opportunity that didn't seem very frequent in our campus.
The first day, I arrived late from a quick trip to Bangalore meant to grab my digital camera for a competition, dashing all hopes of roping in Melvyn, who I'd a hunch would be well-informed, in time for the 9 AM G.K. Quiz.
Most of the games that day were either not to my liking or over by the time I came to know of it.
With Sam busy with practice and hardly any of my batchmates there, I ended up calling home. Realizing too late I could have flown home with the week-long break we had due to the Fest, combined with some Government holidays, I sulked my way through the rest of the day.
The next day saw three competitions I wanted to be part of - Creative writing, Photomarathon and Pictionary - when it dawned upon me that all three were slotted to start at the same time. Juggling the chances in my head, I decided to try out for creative writing. Judging by the topics - 'Illusions' and 'My first love' - I was having second thoughts, as I hadn't enough exposure to Philosophy for the former, and hardly any experience in the latter. Still I went in with my empty head held high, deciding to have fun with first topic. I sat there as long as we were allowed, playing around with the pencil we were provided, fishing my mind for something interesting. After that failure to launch, I gave my story up and switched to fishing the crowd for my classmates in the hope that Pictionary hadn't begun already.
True to tradition, it hadn't, till we assembled in the room listening to the game's instructions. Sam and another friend formed the group that would be doing exactly what I was to do alone - depict in pictures the clues read out to us,which would then be exchanged between the two rooms dividing the predetermined three-member team, for interpretation. I sailed my way through, facing some challenge in only drawing 'The Monk who sold his Ferrari' and waited for their artwork to arrive.
Unlike the completely filled sheet, my mind was blank, when I saw it. From mistaking the Hanging Gardens of Babylon for a local garden, to being puzzled over their illustration of 'the Lord of the Rings', the final tally came out to be - 6/7 right for the Samreen & Charulata duo and 6/7 wrong for yours truly.
As luck would have it, Photomarathon submissions had to be made only by 4 in the evening and I was able to give that a shot too. Samreen had to return to practice again, as her programme was scheduled for that afternoon. Dragging my good friend Saritha, I made grand plans of visiting the Mysore Zoo. I could already see the animals posing in all their glory for the three topics:
1 - Order in Disorder
2 - Serenity in Nature
3 - Splash of Colours
All fired up, I didn't even bother to quarrel with the Rickshaw driver as he charged a hefty sum to take us to Sri Chamarajendra Zoological Gardens.
Only, the minute we stepped down, we were met with the glaring letterings of a board announcing that the particular day, Tuesday, was the only one the immensely popular tourist attraction took a break, every week. Staring helplessly at the chains binding the massive gates shut, I momentarily considered jumping the iron bars to dash in for a quick take. One look at the loaded gun perched on the guard's shoulder made us turn 180 degrees and retrace our steps.
Miffed as I was, I carelessly glanced around hoping for some inspiration to strike. Whichever way I turned, all I saw were - cows.
Brown, black, white, white-and-black.
By then, shooting solely for the sake of participation, I nudged Saritha to come closer to a herd of cows for the right angle. But she wouldn't budge.
"What's wrong?"
Slowly, she shook her head and pointed at the small bovine population queued in the direction of the general traffic - almost perfect for 'Order in disorder'.
"I. Can't. I don't. Like. Cows."
"Oh, don't worry, we'll approach them from behind."
"NO! Their backsides are what I'm most scared of!"
Hence settling for a zoomed out version of that master-stroke, we roamed the city dissatisfied with the sights it had to offer. Further adjustments with a cud-chewing cow for 'Serenity in Nature' and a multiple-patched cow for 'Splash of Colors', I suggested we walk down to the nearby Mysore Palace for better pictures.
Hovering near the stalls outside the Palace gates, I set about clicking away all kinds of pictures, hardly keeping the topics in mind. Finally, perfecting a shot of a collection of bangles hung in a corner, I gazed at the time nonchalantly, when it hit me that Samreen's & Rahul's performance was barely a half hour away, same time as the deadline for this contest.
Gathering all equipment, we rushed back to the hostel, where I had to make the quick decision of what photos to submit. Still discontented, I whipped up my cell phone to browse its Images gallery.
"Hey, was there any mention of when the photos should have been taken?" I asked Saritha, an evil scheme taking shape in my head.
Both of us unable to recall any such restriction, I transferred a few impressive photos I'd taken before, from my phone to the camera and darted to the auditorium.
Once there, I nervously handed over my digicam to the sir in charge, all ready to explain the pictures according to their theme.
However, as soon as he viewed the first one, a picturesque view of a lake in Munnar, he placed the cursor over the file, and-
"What is this?!"
"This was what I meant for 'Serenity in Nature', sir," I clarified.
"No, this was taken on September the 14th. Today is October 5th. You could be disqualified!"
My lips form a tiny 'Oh' and I'm suddenly lost for words.
"You mean - I thought - I'm sorry, but the photos HAVE to be taken today itself?"
"Of course! Why else would it be called a 'Photomarathon'," he snapped. "You are supposed to run around and click pictures within the said time limit!"
Not one to invite further embarrassment, I apologized and offered to withdraw my submission, two of the three pictures not fulfilling the condition.
"Wait, this one's good. We'll take this," he said, pointing at the colourful array of bangles I'd fortunately captured the same day.
Thanking him, I made my way back to the hall where the group song had already begun. After watching a sensational performance that won them the first place, I spent the remainder of the day enjoying other shows, including the Fashion Show that received mixed reactions.
By the third and ultimate day, aversion to head back to class had me wishing I could rewind 48 hours in time. Even a Harry Potter quiz first thing in the morning did little to lift my spirits. The programmes listed for the day were hardly my turf - floral arrangements, Rangoli, solo singing, etc. While I was flattered by a senior's insistence I go for the Western singing category, because I was "good!" at the audition, I settled for playing spectator.
Samreen had to go for band practice and I resented having to spend time on my own, yet again.
The two of us were lingering on the lawn outside, right before she had to leave, when we ran into Melvyn. Seeing as neither of us had anything better to do, we returned to the auditorium to observe the singers, while Samreen bade us goodbye.
The floodgates opened soon as we broke into conversation.
I had to wait three months for someone to understand what it was like to walk half a mile to beat Shawarma cravings;
the summers with temperatures to rival Hell's, making air conditioners a bare necessity;
the fun in attending schools where you could get deemed a juvenile delinquent if caught looking at the opposite gender, housed in separate buildings to boot;
the ubiquitous groceries capable of storing all things imaginable in a 2x3m space;
the life in a cosmopolitan society where the hardest task was to locate a native of the country;
the humongous malls with their widespread Food courts that was every glutton's dream;
the endless stretch of its beaches, the Gulf waters lazily breezing on and off the golden shore...
For three hours, both of us couldn't stop talking about everything under the sun. I was glad to note that apart from the similar circumstances growing up, we also shared identical interests, talents and viewpoints - a history of quizzing, a passion for books, a love of writing, and endless more.
Meanwhile, I got a text message from Namiya Di, congratulating me for winning the Photomarathon, in the only category I'd participated. Puzzled, I checked the notice boards, but all in vain. Writing it off as an error, I paid no further attention to the SMS.
I went on to enjoy the Rock shows, our college the only entry that decided to go relatively soft, sending all of 2K10 brimming with pride at its musical virtuosos.
Following a wild ending to the initially drab fête, attending college the very next day was akin to recovering from a hangover.
Reluctant to renew acquaintances with our textbooks so soon, dissection hour saw all of us discussing the preceding week with much gusto. Once again I got applauded for my photo victory, by which time I'd forgotten all about it. Someone mentioned it had come in the local newspaper and I grew even more suspicious.
That afternoon, I discover an article in 'the Deccan Herald' reporting the happenings of the Inter-College Festival and sure enough, my name was there in print: 'Lamya, MMC&RI, first in 'Splash of Colours''. Excited beyond belief, especially after witnessing posters that claimed there were 'prizes worth Rs.10,000 to be won', I was jumping with joy until some helpful bystander pointed out that participants of the host college reaped absolutely nothing of the prizes.
Getting used to bittersweet revelations by then, life slowly crawled back to normal, extreme boredom reinstated to its original post.
Be back at the end of the break,
Cheers.
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