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2014

July

"Mayank V—"

"Reservation category?" the frail man at the help desk asked with a repulsive tone.

"Uh ... hmm."

"Hostel thirteen."

He might be in a bad mood cause of the heavy rain, I concluded. But I did not have a map with me, so I had to ask.

"Uh ... where is it?"

"Figure it out yourself, just the way you figured out how to set a foot in this campus!"

The small crowd gathered near the counter shared a prolonged laughter. Embarrassment making its way towards my cheeks, I scurry out of that place, hiding myself under my umbrella.

The orientation program passed away in a blur.

August

My roommate was a very geeky fellow. If it were not for his glasses, his eyes would have probably fallen into his five volume textbook. He had not spoken a single word to me despite sharing a room for about a month.

Luckily no ragging had taken place, the professors were stationed at the hostel floors, every night, as a part of the anti ragging program. They have kept all of us on our toes, because of which I could not interact with anyone.

Yesterday their chaperoning duty ended. And to celebrate that, our seniors have hosted a party.

Skimming my oiled hair with the plastic comb, I buttoned up my shirt, neatly tucked and ironed. Humming an old Kishore Kumar tune, I approved my reflection through the mirror attached on the steel cupboard.

"Hey, you are not coming?" I asked the boy sprawled across the sheets, hands running up and down a sheet of paper, solving some problem.

Nodding his head in a negative, he did not even open his mouth to answer.

Rude, isn't he?

Shrugging, I closed the door and climb up the stairs, the music already reaching my ears. Stepping out into the terrace, I was mesmerized by the decorations. All this for a freshers party? We've got amazing seniors.

Picking up a Samosa from the starters table, I munched on to its tip, savoring the delight.

Clapping their hands, the seniors asked for our attention. One of them who seemed like the leader of the gang, spoke up.

"Hello people! I'm Ishaan. And this guy over here, he is Gian," he said, punching the guy on his right.

"So first of all, welcome to the best college in the nation at present, I hope you're all worthy of this prestige! Three rules in this hostel. One, what we seniors say, you all have to follow. Two, what we seniors say, you all have to follow and three—"

"What you say, we have to follow, man we get the point!" a fresher, who was clearly wasted, blurted out, pointing at Ishaan and giggling.

Grinding his teeth, the senior walked up to him, held him by the collar and dragged him to the makeshift stage. And came the slap. Intoxicated, the fresher could not bear the blow. He staggered, slumped to the ground and instantly fell asleep.

"This behavior will not be entertained!"

His voice boomed, making us understand in a single sentence.

As his anger evaporated, the cynical smile was back.

"Let us begin with our interactive session. Each of you will come up here, say your first name, your rank in the entrance exam and the sports which you can play. Also, as a welcoming gesture, we seniors would give you some tasks, which you would have to complete. Ready? Lets start from you gourmand!"

The boy next to me, busy stuffing three Samosas in a go, stared back at Ishaan, wide eyed. He waddled his way to the stage, brushing the oil against his shirt.

"I'm Sarthak. Rank three hundred twenty seven. I can play ... uh ..."

"Given your size you can't play anything! Your task, you won't eat anything tomorrow, not even a sip of water. NEXT!"

Walking up to the stage, I started.

"I'm Mayank. Rank three in the reservation list. I can p—"

"So you are a reservation kid, huh?"

Ishaan got up from his seat and walked towards me. Grasping onto my hand, he enclosed me in a hug and whispered into my ear, "Welcome to hostel thirteen, buddy!".

Was that weird?

Nah. Probably I'm overthinking as always.

September

Hostel thirteen residents were assembled in the football ground. Inter-hostel sports championship was coming up. And the trials had begun.

I was trying out for the goalkeeper post. I had been one during my school days.

"Hey, you! What are you doing here?!"

Caging his friend Gian, Ishaan interrupted the former, "What he meant was, you are here for the trials, right? I've have heard that you are quite good!".

He did?

"So we've selected you. There's a football team meeting in the basement in five minutes, go freshen up and then meet you there?"

I nodded in affirmative, pleased about the news.

Rummaging through wardrobe, I dug up a faded blue t-shirt, a towel and other essentials and marched to the common bathroom stall, to freshen up.

Just as I was climbing the stairs, the lights went out.

A power cut in this part of the city? Power cuts happen here!

Amused by the happenings, I opened the door of the washroom and walked in. Even in the dark, I could trace my path.

Suddenly, the door got locked. Something emerged from each bathroom stall. I could vaguely make out that they were people.

"Who ar—"

"OUCH!" I screamed out. Someone slammed me against the door. Holding my head, I got up and tried to walk but someone tripped me, placing a neon green shoe in front of me. The neon green sparkled in the dark. That was the last thing I saw, before falling flat on the dirty tiles.

"You wanted to be the goalkeeper, huh?"

Kicking me wherever he could, he shouted, "YOU FILTHY BASTARD! YOU FUCKER!"

"YOU DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO BE HERE! INDIA'S BEST COLLEGE!"

"DID YOU FORGET YOUR STATUS, HUH? BLOODY UNTOUCHABLES! WHAT DO YOU LOWER CASTES THINK HUH? THAT SOME BRAIN DEAD ASSHOLES GAVE YOU RESERVATIONS, SO YOU COULD JUST MARCH UP ANYWHERE?!"

Dragging me by the collar, he smashed my head against the closed door. Once, twice, thrice. I lost the count. 

"Satya, is your job done?"

Letting go of my shirt, the gang locked me up in the washroom and left.

Was that Ishaan who was keeping an eye outside the door?

Yes. That voice. It was him.

Flickering lights.

And then I passed out.

October - December

Closing my laptop, I mentally re-read the email I sent to one of the professors. Should I have used faithfully or sincerely?

"Uh ... filth ... you've got a call from your folks!"

Filth.

Yup. That's my new name.

A lot had changed since the last one two months. My geeky roommate seemed to be the only person who didn't think of me as dirt. Kartik was the name. He was nice. At least when others were not around.

Opening the door slowly, careful not to disturb his highness's sleep, I tiptoed slowly towards the common telephone in the hostel reception, shielded by the warden.

The warden. He was another nutcase.

Face covered with an old edition of Bombay Times, his snoring was enough, to wake up a coma patient. I watched his uncovered mouth, in resemblance to a pout. What was he dreaming? To audition as Poo of K3G?

Picking up the unattended phone, I hear Kiran's screech, "How are you? What took you so much time? Are you really okay? Don't lie. There was something off about you when you came home for Diwali! I was rea—"

Twisting the spiral cord of the phone, I decided to put a stop to his questions. "I am fine, baby bro. Really! You concentrate on your class ten exams! If you don't get at least a ninety seven percent, I swear I'm gonna k—"

"Ya, ya, whatever. How is the hostel there? Any friends? Tell me about them! You met any girl? Don't be shy! Come on, there must be so—"

And that's how the call got cut. Abruptly.

"Don't use the public services. They are not meant for you."

Ishaan.

The last two months, the whole hostel made me their play toy. Their puppet. Theirs to be messed, theirs to be broken, theirs to be mistreated.

I was told that my worth wasn't anywhere close to their filthy slippers.

Filth.

Dirt.

Shit.

What was I not called? All sorts of names had been given to me.

Why?

I know why but I'm not ready to accept it.

Yet.

I brought myself back to the present as he glared at me with disgust. Moving my feet with great difficulty, I limped towards the stairs. Just a minor injury, a gift from Satya's friend.

"From now onwards, you will be cleaning the toilets. Why trouble the sweepers when we have an expert right here, eh?"

Glad.

I was glad that he had at least placed the phone back before making these comments.

Glad that Kiran was still in the dark about this matter.

Glad that it was not Satya who I had to face.

Glad that Ishaan barely spoke two syllables since that day in the washroom.

Getting to the blind spot of the corridor, I let out the breath that I was holding. The dust particles flying randomly in the air, were my only companions.

As the crystals of water splashed against those dust-laden floor, I let them flow, free.

Who said guys don't cry?

'

2015

January - March

"You village boy! How can you even ask me to pass you for this exam?"

The professor, red faced, took a pause.

Breathing was a necessity, you see.

"Forget the answer, you can't even speak without a stutter! And your English? Don't get me started!"

Throwing the answer sheet on my face, he picked up his things from the table and headed towards the door, glaring at the peon who was laughing at my misery.

The peon, immediately sensing the burning eyes, mumbled, "Sorry, professor Shastri".

Professor Shastri, turned to face me. Rubbing his nose, trying to calm himself down, he spoke one last time.

"Child. Engineering is not your cup of tea. My generous advice, you quit this program right now and move on with life. Now you are in first year. You might be sharp, smart but when the time comes for placements, its those students with high profile networks and eloquent language skills who are going to be selected."

Pressing his spectacles against his nose, he concluded.

"Wherever you walk, that label of yours is like a stamp, slammed on your forehead. And stamps don't get removed unless you tear down the paper. They will tear you down if you try to remove your label. That's the world. They won't let you survive."

And he walked away.

Struck by his words, I stroll down the corridors, lost.

He was right.

Right.

Right.

I should walk towards right, right?

Where am I going?

What am I doing?

Why am I doing this?

Who am I?

When am I going to learn that I wasn't a part of this world? Of their world.

Why?

Why?

WHY?

"BLACK LIVES MATTER! COLOUR IS NOT A CRIME!"

The college protests were led on a full swing, marching right past me, putting a stop to my lost wandering.

Millions swarmed like bees, carrying hoardings, shouting slogans, pumping their fists in the air, enthusiastically fighting for rights of blacks.

And you know who led those protests?

Ishaan.

"My dearest fellow students, they are just like us! Fellow human beings! Why do we make their survival tough? Why do we discriminate them? Colour doesn't matter! Its your character which matt—"

I zoned out.

I felt sick.

Can I ask something?

Black lives matter.

Dalit lives don't?

April

"Come on Filth! Didn't you learn anything about cleaning from your parents? That bottom right corner, scrub it harder!"

I was on bathroom cleaning duty. That too in this exam week.

I could already predict my results. Just pass. Only because the college doesn't fail anyone.

"Filth, this is not your dreamland! Clean up! Fast!"

And cherry on top, this gourmand was sent to supervise my cleaning. Scrubbing the dirty bathroom door harder, I regretted pitying this donkey over that day.

Suddenly, the door flew open, slamming me against the wall.

Satya.

Walking towards me, he grabbed my collar, the grip tearing off my shirt.

"Listen, dirt. When I come back in July, I don't want to see you here as a sophomore. YOU GET IT?"

Nodding, I ducked my head, raising my hands, to defend the blow which was coming.

But it never came.

"Satya, leave. I'll talk it out."

Was he mad?

"Ishaan, what are you doing?! UGH ... FINE!"

Peeking over my arms, I watched the wrench ahead of me.

"Melon? You need special invitation to leave? Then? LEAVE!"

Sarthak, waddled to the door, scared out of his wits.

Silence.

"Why?" I croaked.

His eyes, set ablaze with raging fury, caught mine.

"What. Did. You. Say?"

"W—wh—wh—y?"

Silence.

"Get out!"

"BUT I WANT TO KNOW WHY!"

"GET OUT YOU PIECE OF SHIT! GET OUT! JUST OUT!"

I limped towards the basin, to wash my hands.

Gripping onto my shoulder, he roughly smashed me against the counter.

"You asked why. YOU ASKED WHY?"

"I'LL TELL YOU WHY!"

"CAUSE YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS! THIS RANK. A SEAT. THIS DEGREE. YOU DESERVE NONE OF IT!"

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW? DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW HARD WE STUDENTS FROM THE GENERAL CATEGORY HAVE WORKED TO GET A SEAT IN THIS COLLEGE! PEOPLE WHO DESERVE IT, PEOPLE WHO HAVE WORKED HARD FOR YEARS, PEOPLE WHO HAVE RUINED THEIR CHILDHOOD FOR THE SAKE OF AN ADMISSION IN THIS COLLEGE, DO YOU EVEN KNOW? DO YOU?!"

"NO. YOU DON'T DESERVE IT! TRAPPED INSIDE OUR OWN HOUSES FOR YEARS, CRAMMING UP ALL THE AVAILABLE BOOKS, SOLVING MILLIONS OF QUESTION PAPERS! AND THEN LOSING A SEAT IN THE BEST COLLEGE, THAT TOO, TO A FILTH LIKE YOU!"

He slammed his fist against the mirror, hand probably broken, knuckles bleeding, ages of fury and fire extinguished.

So this was what all this was about.

About me deserving this seat or not.

The age old concept of reservations for scheduled castes and tribes.

Damn it!

Did I deserve this?

I was told by my parents that I did. My teachers had always praised me for being the sharpest student in the school.

I deserved it. I did. I really did.

I had studied under the flickering streetlights all night long. I had taken care of my ailing mother. I had helped my father in cleaning those places and earning any small income I could. I had taken up seven to eight jobs, did my studies and performed my responsibilities, making sure I lacked in no field.

I was a person who did not know what education after tenth grade was! A person who did not even dare to dream having the luxuries these kids had. A person who lived the life of dogs, wandering in the streets during the day and sitting under those lights at night.

An untouchable, as they called. They made me hate to touch me. They made me hate to look at myself. They made me disgusted of myself.

They made me hate my thoughts.

They made me hate my shadow.

But I was not able to defend myself. Words failed to tumble out of my mouth.

"You wont have an answer. Even you know what a mistake you are to this world!"

Slamming the door shut, he walked away.

He was not right.

Was not right.

Not right.

Right?

I stared ahead at my reflection, loathing the feeling of wearing my skin, the sound of running water, my only solace.

August

I was here. Again. As a sophomore.

I tried telling my parents that I did not want to go back. They payed no heed. They thought I was being lazy after a three month vacation.

How wrong were they. They did not know.

I had a difficult time keeping up with Kiran. He sensed something off and kept pestering me. All the time.

I was gifted a phone for my birthday. Must have costed their whole life's saving. I did tell them it was not necessary. They accused me of not calling them while I was in the hostel, how could I deny that?

Hmm. Life is tough, right?

"You came back?"

The boy asked me, his mouth hanging open, large enough for me to see his cavities. He rushed down the stairs probably to inform Satya about the news.

I was dead.

Few minutes later, I spotted the burly figure approaching. Luckily, he did not go for words this time. Instead he started out with a punch.

I brushed my fingers over my cheekbone. Ouch.

My thoughts were numb. I was numb.

I let them do whatever they wanted to.

I let them strip me naked. I let them smear black paint over me. I let them tear my cloths. I let them drag me around the hostel like that.

I said nothing.

I saw nothing.

I heard nothing.

What was there to think about?

Nothing.

Nothing.

Done with their entertainment, they dropped me near the drain and I sat there. I don't know how long.

"Mayank?"

I shrank back.

Scared. I was scared.

Scarred. I was scarred.

Broken. I was broken.

"Relax. Its me. Kartik. Your roommate. Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

I don't remember what happened that day. The day passed away in a blur.

Two weeks later

16 : 34

"Kartik, I'll be out for a while. The usual, watching the dusk."

Reading the note again and again, I placed it on my geeky roommate's desk. Smiling, I walked outside the hostel.

Strolling in the nearby lane, I bought a five bucks worth pen. My last one had run out of ink.

I sat in the nearby tea stall, which was empty for now but bound to be crowded soon.

After a long time, I got up, walking again.

15 : 35

"Mayank! Mayank bhaiya! Play hopscotch with us! Please!"

The kids playing in the lane dragged me by my hand, forcing me to join them.

Innocent souls, weren't they? No knowledge about this world.

Smiling generously at them, I compiled to their wishes.

Taking the pebble from their hand, I threw it in the air, watching it drop back and settle in one of the numbered boxes.

Nostalgic, I smiled again, glancing at the cheering kids and the cold pebble inside the box.

"Start playing bhaiya!"

And I jumped.

'