on learning ... in a sense

Dear you,

This is not the first time when I had a weird experience and I changed. however, I'd surely like to tell you recent stuff and this is what happened last Sunday.

I missed peter pan, the play. I've been told by a certain prof that he needed to talk to my parents.He also volunteered to send me off from b.tech if I'm not interested in b.tech or if I hated this institute. I had been trying to finish those wretched assignments for five days then but not one was done and I started having issues. That way, at nine in the night ,I was off on the long lonely ride again to the main gate and back.
It was one of those rides where if you asked me where I was heading to, I'd tell you -nowhere in particular.

It all felt so scary. or maybe, gloomy is the word, but gloom always scared me. I'd probably laugh to death than sit gloomy. But it was compulsive then.

I somehow got reminded of her. I thought about the last time we spoke to each other and I remembered it wasn't all of a friendly conversation. In fact, I shouldn't be complaining but, she never really talked. Those barriers seemed unbreakable to me and she always remained a hidden soul. But now I needed to talk. You shouldn't think I'm some vague fellow... I didn't talk to her for some months. See, I ain't dependent or something, I just happened to ... oh, forget it, I wanted to talk.

I sent an sms - ' are you busy? can you talk?'.

I reached the bus stop in front of the school. and went to sit there. Somehow, my knees start trembling when I think of talking to her. that tremble I felt when I was supposed to make than damn speech in front of the school in ninth standard.
So, I sat at the bus stop. But then, you remember I felt wrecked. It all feels so shady now. there weren't many on that road. It was rather lonely and gloomy in itself. The darkness of the night only seemed to add to it.I kept looking at the mobile phone. It all could feel miserable...

A certain chap came walking along the road. I recognised this guy. He was a student who was taught by one of my classmates during first year in those NSS classes. I remember my classmate cribbing about being bugged by this fellow. He looked a little shady too, I must confess. He walked in a rather weird manner and spoke in a yet weirder one... I remember folks telling me he was a little rude too if you spoke to him more. I wouldn't look at that fellow , I had my mobile to look at. I waited ...a little desperately.

As luck would have it, he came and sat at the opposite end of that rather tiny bus stop. I couldn't care less. After a while he said '"are you studying in IIT?"
"yeah" ...um, I was , wasn't I?
"which department?" he asked in that weird manner again.
I gave him a glance and registered his face had a rather worn out look on it. He was dressed rather neat and probably just had a bath but his face surely had a worn out look on it.
"computer sciences"
"Oh , do you know Hema ma'am?"
I had stopped looking at him long back. My mobile held all my attention... uhm, most of it though.
"oh, yeah , I do."
"She gave me some work last summer for her project."
"oh..."
"I and two girls from my school did it."
"cool, she paid you?"
why was he talking to me? Why was I talking back?
" yes, two thousand, two ninety four rupees"
"oh cool..."
I looked at him. He was there frail and communicative...
I got back to business, though it now hurt to think I've put her off so badly...
I thought I'd talk to this fellow.
I said " what did you with that money?"
He gave me on sheepish smile.
"I spent some on eatables."
"cool, how much is left then?"
"one thousand"
I got reminded of the day I spent two thousand on books and clothes...
I was now convinced she gave up on me. I still gave some glances at to the phone though.
"what's your name?"
"I'm Raghavendra." (I've changed the name for unnameable purposes).
" which class?"
"twelfth"
"oh, what's your dad?"
He wouldn't look at me now and acted like he didn't want to answer.
I persisted " what's your father?"
"He .. is a ..cashier."
I'm not really sure of the truth in the statement but he told me that.
" ah, what's your tenth score?" ...pardon me, but I only wanted to know...
"sixty percent.."
"oh..."
" do you get pocket money? The SBI bank gives you, no?"
" uhm, My parents give me pocket money, not SBI."
" But the bank gives you people money, I know.. "
"that's if you have a scholarship or a loan... I have neither"
"why?"
"my parents are above the two lakh per annum income limit."
"how much do they earn?"
" sixty or seventy thousand a month."
" oh my god!!"
I now wasn't looking at the phone. I kept looking straight.
"what was your tenth score?"
"I... probably got ... ninety percent"
"did you go to tuitions?"
"hehe ... no, I didn't need to".

Sometimes, I feel too lucky or just too profound for such conversations because he then said-
"how do you get such good scores?"

there was sheer puzzlement and despair in the question and I came back to reality for then I realized I'm a topper. After all the stuff about doing bad in my institute and hearing vague stuff from people evaluating me and feeling silence bite me up , I'm a topper. I'm somebody the country is supposedly proud of ...

This chap out here has his boards in a couple of months and he's on the road walking alone just like I was...
My head went low... very low.
" marks don't mean much" I heard myself saying...
"Oh ..."
"yeah, trust me, marks don't mean much."
"but..."
"hey, ain't it time you should be getting back
" what's the time?"
" nine thirty."
" Oh, I should get back home".
"yeah, so should I."

We got up and I almost forgot the mobile phone there on the busstop. I picked it up however, and cycled on.

love,
prathyush.

p.s : she called me then !