I WAS ONE step away from the admission.
And I lost my Character Certificate.
Life fucks you right when you least expect it to, some noble fellow said once upon a time. The admission process would end at 1:00 pm. At 12:30, I was frantically flipping through the wads of my certificates and their xerox copies, looking for the goddamn document that would prove my honesty and crap. The teacher stared at me in pity, like you stare at poor kids picking rags at footpaths. He felt for me, but he couldn’t help me.
I raced out of the library looking for my character certificate, as if I’d really find it lying somewhere abandoned and realize I dropped it by mistake. Seniors were hell bent on helping us – college elections – and so I contacted one.
“You lost your character? “He asked, wide-eyed. As if character and character certificate meant the same thing!
“I don’t know. I kept it in there. “I said, my voice already cracking. Goddamn it. I don’t cry when girls leave me, but I cry when my character certificate leaves me. Maybe that’s why I’m always single.
“Don’t worry. “The senior guy said, “note my mobile number. ”
I wondered if I had really started crying or what, but my cheeks were still red hot, so I believed I was saved from the embarrassment. I jotted down his number in my notebook, and he called one of his friends and took him ten steps away from me and whispered something in his ears. That guy took me to another guy who took me to a girl. Since I’m an incorrigible git, I’ll take a paragraph to describe the girl.
She was goddamn hot. Like the splatters of oil that jump out of the frying pan. She wore narrow jeans and grey top, and had sleek shiny hair. Her face was perfect, as if it had been constructed after going through one million blueprints. Her eyes were wild, her lips were bright, and her voice hit my head like a melody. Soothing. Hypnotic. Beautiful. If only I was 6′, had money, could sing like Arijit, and had written a few bestselling novels, maybe she’d have dated me.
She called another guy, who looked like a WWE champion, and he took me to another guy who was thinner than a straw. The WWE guy could send him to space with a flick. The thin guy took me to another guy, who wore nice hair and was charming as hell. He looked like a womanizer. I wondered how diverse a small herd of students could be. You turn your head, you’d spot a North Indian. You look the other side, there are Punjabis. It felt like the whole country was here.
He told me not to worry, and that he’d solve my problem. There were 900 seconds left before admissions would close. I was getting wobbly.
The guy asked me to wait for 5 minutes, and ran towards the exit. My heart was heavier than before as I fought back tears. It wasn’t the goddamn admission I cared about, it was the metro map. I sat on the steps and thought of her.
I didn’t know what I was doing. We don’t even talk anymore. And yet, I was enrolling in history so that I could wallow in the fact that we were only five metro stations apart, even though I didn’t know if we would ever see each other in these three years. It’s crazy if you think rationally. But then, I never think that way. We are just Five metro stations apart, and this is one hell of a proximity. Yeah, not enough for sharing mp3 files via Xender, but who cares. When it rains at my window, it’ll rain at hers too. When the daylight seeps in my life, she will see her daylight too. The wind that touches my face and the wind that touches hers, will find a way through the concrete cities and meet somewhere. Probably.
Damn it! It’s so cheesy!
But I couldn’t find another reason. Life is just a chain of moments. And my most beautiful moments have this crazy girl walking in them. I don’t know what else to do with my life.
I pulled out the file from my bag and rechecked the documents. DEARFUCKINGLORD! It was there! Stashed between my marksheets! I checked the time. 360 seconds to go. I grabbed my bag and ran for my life, thinking about the metro map and those five goddamn stations between the two ends of my present world.