On Reservations in College and unfinished biscuits…

No, I plan not to preach either in favour or against an issue which has been debated not less than Sharukh Khan’s sexuality.

I speak of the reservation system followed in the Individual Study Hall (ISH) situated within the premises of my college Library. As people are many and seats are few (a commonplace peculiarity in this country), disciples of this establishment (the ISH) have a tendency to reserve for themselves a seat by leaving behind a bag or some books.

During exam-time, the practice catches steam, as does the anti-reservation movement, the clique of which takes the liberty of removing any belongings left behind in an attempt to reserve, in order to occupy that seat. Both the contrasting practices have worsened since the air-conditioning of the hall.

Not over an hour ago, an acquaintance who is a student of a sister-college, and is knee-deep in preparations for his ongoing sessional examinations, vacated a seat adjacent to mine. As our common friend is a strong anti-reservationist (not unlike myself), he removed from that seat all his belongings save for a packet of biscuits that I suppose he couldn’t find within himself to consume in entirety.

That packet of biscuits, in itself, found the capacity to brew quite an ordeal.

Through the first half hour, I observed many brainless gits who approached the table with the objective of occupying it, withdraw from the same on being confronted by the half-eaten packet of cookies that bore an ominous look. That was until one enterprising chap dared to brush the packet aside and occupy the seat. He began his (pretension of) study. Ten minutes elapsed.

A passing acquaintance (of his) happened to glance upon the packet that lay on his table. Her greed over-powered her principles. And before the average person could say “Boo!”….

*slow motion sequence begins*

Her arm extends towards the biscuits as she chirps in a deep yet mocking voice, “You’ll always be an unending supply of biscuits.”

The fellow, quick in his response yet abiding by the motion of the sequence, lets out a slow and painful moan “Nnnooo…”, thrusting his arm in order to impede hers as it extends towards the cookies, all the while bearing a look of sheer horror on his visage.

She withdraws her arm. The packet remains untouched. The fellow saves the day by preventing a most lethal grenade from being set off… err, or at least an untouched packet of biscuits from being touched.

*slow motion sequence ends*

“They’re not mine…. They were lying here from before” he laughed, cognisant of how embarrassing the incident could have been for his victim.

She blushed. First a light red, then a crimson followed by brown, purple and crimson again, all the while giggling in an attempt to camouflage her absolute humiliation.

The next 3 minutes elapse with him mocking at her naive exploit. She brushes off her taunts, but daren’t leave his side lest she give herself away and accede to his victory.

Eventually, he moves on to his theories on how the packet of biscuits could have found its way on that table, confirming every suspicion I had of his devotion towards his books through his last 15 minutes or so on that table. He concludes that it was someone’s innovative endeavour at reserving a seat.

The poor girl, his first victim, eventually retires to her seat and dissolves into deep meditation, seeking within herself a retaliation to his jibes.

More victims pass, some stopping for a biscuit, some not so greedy. To all unsuspecting twerps, he dishes out his theory on how some inventive boy could have attempted to save himself a seat using a packet of biscuits as the object of reservation. One wonders if this is how he passes his time here.

Finally, the first victim attains enlightenment. She slowly rises from her seat and trudges towards her victimiser with a look of utter triumph on her face, who has been joined by yet another passing friend.

He cajoles his first, lifting the packet and offering her a biscuit. She is unperturbed. She turns to the recent addition to the group and exclaims in a rehearsed tone, “It’s ironical how in the entire study hall, he chose the very seat that came with a packet of biscuits.”

He’s caught unaware and defends himself to no avail.

The packet of biscuits and I laugh, but neither too loudly.

She wins.