It was yet another handsome Sunday morning. The air was pleasantly cool, the crows were not cawing, and there was a Sunday-Morn Silence all around as the world would sleep till 10. Everything seemed to be at its usual, but for the trees outside my window. They were unerringly where I had left them the previous evening. Indeed, they hadn't moved an inch! What is most astonishing is that they don't appear to have budged ever since my earliest recollections of them. They simply remain where they are, all the time. Almost as if it is customary of them to remain put! Hmm.. Funny business.
As is not uncommon on Sunday mornings, both beautiful and dreadful ones, college was closed, which meant that the college canteen was shut leaving me with no choice but to seek alternative establishments to provide me my breakfast. One such establishment is called KC Canteen that is located roughly 127 steps away from my hostel gate. No, I haven't counted. It is an estimate (add or subtract a thousand). And that was precisely where I headed.
As most of the world is asleep at 9 AM on Sundays, I went unaccompanied. And for a fairly similar reason, I found that the canteen (hereafter referred to as KC) was not thronging with hungry college-goers as it usually is after 10.
Now a word or two about the canteen.... sorry, KC.... before we proceed. The capacity of KC does not exceed 30, with 4 people sharing a table (unless of course 6 people gracelessly force themselves onto one), thus if you visit alone, you are likely to have to share a table with a perfect stranger (and sometimes, a far-from-perfect one). During early and odd hours, however, low occupancy may allow you to afford a table-for-four all to yourself.
And that was the privilege that was bestowed upon me on that Sunday morning, for I was able to occupy the last unoccupied table in the canteen, with all others having an occupant or two.
The waiter appeared before me, with an expression of utter boredom on his visage. He always has an expression of boredom on his face, something that is nearly as constant as the position of the trees outside my window. Hmm.. Funny business.
I placed my order. He registered and left. Though I was not witness to the same and thus could never testify it before the court of law (with a clear conscience), my instincts told me that as he departed from before me, he continued to have an expression of utter boredom on his face. And that the trees still hadn't moved. Hmm.. Funny business.
So I sat there, waiting. The wait was not long, but in the course of the next minute, something apart from the ordinary happened.
The situation is such. Since I had no company at that ghastly hour on that Sunday morning and since there isn't anything particularly brilliant or attractive about the interiors of KC, I was gazing out the windows. As if it was meant to happen, my gaze fell upon a spectacle so cinematic that it unnerved me.
From a distance, I saw the advancement of nobody short of an adversary. Affectionately christened by me as Ess Row, you can read my tribute to him here.
Having experienced much more of his expertise in the field of English since I wrote that tribute, I take the opportunity to disclose more about this great dignitary with you at this point in time.
After attending one class of his, one pleads silently within, "Why?"
After attending 10 glorious lectures by him, one drops to his knees, clasps his hands together, looks up towards the heavens and screams in pain, "Why, god, why?"
After ending the fortieth, one loses faith in god.
Mercifully, no one has had to attend beyond 30.
As I was saying, I sat there and saw the enemy draw near. The effect was cinematic. He did not seem to be approaching the entrance to KC progressively, nor gliding, skipping or hopping towards it, for that matter. He was clearly charging. Gung-Ho! His figure was looming larger by the second and whatever remains of his hair to this day, was flying in the wind. How he enlivened that effect sans hi-tech equipment or cameras, I may perhaps never acertain. Though again I have no proof of the same since the window constrained my view, it appeared to me that he was riding a horse.
Now don't begin about the absurdity of owning horses in
To recapitulate thus far, on that Sunday morning, when the trees had not budged and the waiter at KC flaunted an expression of utter boredom on his face, Ess Row stormed in full spirit towards KC on a horse.
Needless to say I looked around me and panicked. No, I did not suddenly find myself in an army on a battlefield, soon to be attacked by Ess Row “The Indomitable”. What a did discover was that there remained not a single empty table in the canteen.
And tell me now, why should a person who can not find an empty table at KC, share one with a familiar face, be it a colleague or a defenceless student?
The reasoning may or may not be logical, but as it happened, I panicked.
Without sparing a thought, or even a fraction of it, I grabbed my belongings, rose like thunder, dove towards the adjacent table and collapsed onto the bench, opposite its formerly solitary occupant, and heaved a sigh of relief.
The unsuspecting bloke, on whose privacy I had unceremoniously intruded, seemed not to be cognizant of the English Professor that approached on a horse or anything out of the ordinary and thus found my behaviour most nonconforming. This was validated by the manner in which he glared at me, as if a hyena had materialised before him out of nothingness. To the best of my faculties, under the bizarre circumstances, I avoided his look.
Meanwhile, the waiter appeared with my order where I previously sat, and placed it before empty space. Noticing that he was serving food to hot air, that was unlikely to consume or pay for it, he raised an eyebrow to the best of his ability. As it dawned upon him that the empty space had not placed the order to begin with, he sought the entity that had.
Discovering me behind him, he placed the food where it belong and, with a slightly malformed expression of utter boredom on his face, departed.
My table companion glared at the apparating hyena, as it breakfasted on South Indian food.
Somewhere in the canteen, another unsuspecting and ill-fated bloke, discovering an unsolicited breakfast date imposed upon him, pleaded silently within himself, “Why?”
