In the period of brief acquaintance with Lydia, she'd managed to evoke some deep, forbidden feelings that are generally disapproved by society. Feelings that want me to scream bloody murder in broad daylight.
The girl was hyperactive and didn't hold back in a conversation.
She had this habit of giving me mini heart attacks when I arrived in college, always wanted to link her arm with mine and loiter around everywhere with me. I wasn't excused of her presence even in the pretext of using the stalls.
But Monday was a fresh start for me, or so I assumed.
Two days of college, we had to register for language and classes.
And Monday was the day of registering for physical education. To my pleasant surprise, Lydia was a sports scholarship student which means she would have to unhook me from her grasp to complete a few formalities with the Bursar.
She gave me a sorry glance before letting go of my hands.
I watched her head towards the Office Building and I sighed inwardly, shielding my eyes from the merciless glare of the sun. I was glad that I'd chosen to wear the most modest cotton tee I owned to keep me from being roasted to a medium-rare.
People in the terse queue were becoming more scarce until I was allowed my turn.
I pulled my brand new pen out with a flourish and my movement paused midway.
Zumba
Traditional Dance
Aerobics
Yoga
Karate
Observing the fatally alien options that were spread before me with distaste, the words flowed out of my mouth in a feeble murmur: "Can I maybe, compensate the credits for PE with a subject?"
"No, absolutely not. This is a part of your syllabus," The staff replied indignantly.
"Ah."
I simply scrawled my signature under one of the fields because deep thought wasn't going to help it.
I passed the note back to the woman and picked up my bag from under the tree, unsure of what I should do.
A stream of students was headed towards a direction with so much surety that I was tempted to follow them.
And God bless them, they led me to food.
I'd already encountered the cafeteria and duly noted it the last time but these girls led me to the open shack along the pathway to the library.
Just nature and trees, a few cement platforms for the students.
Students were bumbling around the counter with wallets and juice boxes in their hands. I pulled my bag into an empty spot, ignoring the ruckus around me.
The menu board caught my eye and I studied it with excessive interest. I wasn't allotted pocket money but I'd saved a few coins and I was good to go for now. I ran my greedy eyes over the options.
Samosa, Chicken Puff, Sweet buns, Chole Bature...
I was distracted by a face in my purview. I relaxed a fraction when I recognised that it wasn't Lydia.
A strikingly pretty girl with a coat of rich coral lipstick gracing her lips stood before me, her wavy hair secured in a half-hearted bun, while a few brunette tendrils brushed her face.
Must be one of those popular ice queens.
"What subject do we have now?" She asked me and my brows elevated, partially because I was befuddled. I simply stared blankly for a moment at her very angular face.
"Fresher?" I pried, noticing the lack of an identity card.
She looked offended. "I'm your classmate, don't you know me?"
"Ya, I've seen you around," I lied with an artificial smile. Forced communication came easy sometimes.
She seemed sceptic with my answer but took it anyway with a light chuckle, "It's hardly been a week, it's okay. "
She forced a silent hiss through her lips and collapsed on to the bench near me. I made room for her warily, pulling my bag into my lap. Observing her passively while she inspected her feet.
She pulled her legs up to her lap and I noticed that two of the straps in her block sandals were hanging limply, unhooked from their deigned position.
"This again!" She muttered to herself.
Maybe I should offer help.
But she didn't ask me for it.
Although that's what a well-bred girl should do.
Should I just ge-
"Hey," She turned to me and I noticed that her eyes were a unique, familiar shade of enrapturing mocha brown. Almost similar to those of Kabir.
"Can you please get me a stick of glue from the store?"
I felt a little embarrassed, not being the one to offer help first. But I accepted the note from her hand and stalked towards the stationery with a purpose.
The storekeeper produced a stick of fancy glue which wouldn't stick a feather on paper, let alone leather sandal straps.
I explained to him that I wanted something stronger for hopeless footwear and he claimed I produce the latter for him to fix.
I peered out of the shop and caught the girl's eye who was sitting under the tree, looking at me expectantly as if I was going to bring her the elixir of life.
I made a beckoning gesture and she obediently began to make her way to the store. Limping between the throng of students.
The storekeeper was empathic while she hobbled towards us and produced the footwear to him which he promptly dumped on the table, scrutinising it.
Ensued the silence of a surgical floor with which he began to mend the straps of the sandals with his impromptu tools while the girl managed to balance herself on one foot.
While he temporarily attached the sandal back together, she was rummaging through the contents of the bag. "Anna, you saved me today. How much?"
"Twenty."
She produced a crisp hundred rupee note for which he didn't possess any notes of a lower denomination to return so I drew money from my pocket and royally flattened it on the counter.
"Thanks." She sighed.
"It's alright." I shrugged dismissively, though I'd just given away my lunch money. Since we shared the same quest of finding our next class, we walked together in companionable silence until Privett and compared our time table.
But when we finally found our class, seventy-odd girls quietened directed their attention to us while the professor glared at us, "What's the time?" She demanded in a dangerously, quiet voice.
Let's see, I was lost a few times on the way to the ground, the PE registration queue was overpopulated, I bumped into a girl with a shoe situation going on. Hmm, must've been quite some time.
I didn't deign to reply by merit of not owning a wristwatch yet.
The excuse of an unfortunate footwear incident seemed too third quality at present. So we were silent while she questioned us in a curt voice.
She could've excused us and let us off the hook, being our first class with her but no.
She would've even let us into class if she hadn't noticed a pinch of humour in my expression.
She turned indignant and her barrage of questions that she spewed one by one like gunfire, didn't affect me in the least.
I shifted my feet and directed my concentration on her luminous, dusky skin and the delicate microscopic gold ornaments adorning her ears.
By experience, I could say, the less the accessories, the more no-nonsense type educators they would be.
Evident from the dangerous spark in her beady eyes.
We cut a sorry figure and she threw us out of class, telling us to loiter like rogues around the college.
We huddled ourselves behind the door for a moment, away from her vision.
My lips belatedly simpered into a curve. My companion reflected the expression.
"Nice to be kicked out with some company any day. I'm Prathisha, by the way. What's your name?"
"Shyla," I replied with a mammoth grin, pleased to bump into someone of my kind.
Then the conversation was same old, a little gossip from both sides, mini introductions and all.
A couple of minutes later, the lady's feet were incoming our way. She stepped out of class, her fat textbook cradled in her arms.
Our grins faded like cheap paint and I did my best to look troubled by the inflicted punishment.
She shot me one last glare, "Get in."
We exchanged silent glances at each other while the professor sauntered away.
"Did you smile or what, when she was firing at us?"
"Sort of, I tried my best to suppress it."
A mild chuckle left her lips, "Do you know who she is?"
I pulled my bag onto my shoulder and inquired brightly, "No, who?'
"She's the Dean of academic affairs. All the best."
"Hmm," I mused, looking after her and offered a microscopic shrug of my shoulders.
As soon as we entered the class, Prathisha made a beeline to the back of the class and dropped her bag on one of the wooden benches.
I leaned against the wall, inspecting for other unoccupied benches in the line of my sight.
Prathisha scooted towards the window and patted the place next to her and then glanced at me.
Naturally, I slid easily beside her and marvelled at her easy smile. My railroad thoughts were wondering how socialising was easy with some while being a tempestuous fumble of words with another. It was as if my mind censored new people to either to manoeuvre a smooth opening or shut down into curt indifference.
There was no in-between.