Life with a school boy

By the time we reached final year, we knew project is the only thing that can save our skin now.  Three years of fooling around ensured this was our last chance to up our overall percentages.  After months of planning or lack of it, we finally had a team ready, and what a team it was.  

School boy remained the most exciting of them all.  He seem to know any good looking girl walking on the road from his school days, if ever we found one.  It was his innocence with which he thought we will beleive every thing he said that made him so 'kickable'.  

I remember our trip to Bangalore.  D***y bird had managed - or he said he managed - an internship program for us at Ashok Layland in Hosur.  We never saw the face of it.  Never the less the visit is etched in my memories because of one man, the school boy.  

It all started while we were on our way to Bangalore, in a KPN bus.  This was a no frill bus.  After a disastrous start to our project search at Rajapalayam and others, we didnot have a lot to go with any ways.  Four of us had occupied a seat almost mid way in the bus,  behind the driver seats.  Sometime late in the night, while we were trying hard to keep our heads stable on the metallic frame of the seat as the bus moved at fabulous speeds only managable by state transport buses, our school boy suddenly got up.  He stood on his seat as is searching for some body in the front row.  Bird some how managed to pull him down as it was dangerous.  Front seats are generally reserved for ladies if you remember.  "What the hell were you doing. You might get all of us beaten up before we reach Bangalore" Bird scolded.  

The response from school boy was as sweet and innocent as you can ever get "I couldn't see the driver from here, so just wanted to confirm whether he is still there"

The league of ordinary gentlemen

The best 'leave' ever

It was quiet late in the evening. We were sure it will be the last match for the day. As our lord - the tea storage park of our absent minded speko - didn't really had any flood lights, the conditions just suited gundamani style of batting. Some how he played much better late in the evening when rest of us could hardly see the ball. Speko surely knew this, I am sure and that is why he always insisted we batted first. And today with this last over he needed only 2 runs to win. He had more centuries and half centuries on that pitch than all of us put together. Home turf advantage you see. Gundamani would love to challenge him in Australia now I am sure.

But any ways that day was special. Batting with speko was the sailor boy - or man sorry. Gundamani was standing right on speko's throat as sledging formed a formidable weapon in these circumstances. Two balls up and no score things seemed to be working. Third ball he played the trick and played in the vacant car parking area.

One run... Sailor uncle... sorry sailor man on strike. He was known more for his career changing abilities that his cricket abilities. From GMAT, to GRE, to IELTS, to CAT, to GATE and finally settling in merchant Navy, the Sailor man had inspired a whole generation of college going phoren thinking people.

Next ball, no run. By now gundamani and boss were so close in on batsman, any deviation in line would have affected their next generations. Penultimate ball and sailor gave into the pressure. Bold. Middle brick of the pillar. Oh we were almost mad. And so was speko on the other end. He looked more surprised than angry. And more worried because the next man in was the little mickey (see how clever of me to hide the mouse). He was known more to the professors than his classmates. There was pressure. You could feel it. But he was relaxed. Cool, Calm and Collective as they call it. I wished he had a helmet, he could have got hurt, gundamani was on his head literally.

Then it happened. None of us could beleive it but it happened. Right in front of our eyes. Last ball, one run to win. It was full out side the off stump delivery. And mickey did the text book stuff (as he was always known for doing). He left the ball in a perfect Dravid style.

The celebrations for that match didnot die down for next one week and mickey wasn't complaining. He was a celebrity. People came to him for advice on front foot leave. Ya, sure after all that was the best leave in the history of godown cricket. And it still remains that way....

The Daya debacle

It was our study holiday as they call it.  And like any other sincere student around, we spent most of our time playing cricket.  Myself, Gundamani alias VIJAY alias SAURAV DA and daya were geographically co-located and thus had a league of our own.  We played with those heavy cork cricket balls which could hardly fit into my hands and was too heavy for me too.  Just laboured with it most of the times.  Gundamani though could carry it in two fingers.  And daya was super-human for his size.

When ever we got a bit of time out of our game we got down to do combine study.  Gundamani had this small room above his house which became our study room.  The concept used to be to look at last 4 years question papers and predict what may come this year.  Not entirely a difficult task with Bharthiyar University. Then figure out what is 'studiable' out of those.  And then study only those bare minimum required for us to clear the exams. 

On one such day, daya got angry on the Binomial expansions which according to our calculations was an essential tool to clear the exam.  He proposed his own solution.  He calculated his own marks in various sections and declared 'the total comes to 50'.  Gundamani said impromptu 'hey this seems too much yaar'.  Daya had a serious look at the paper again and said 'what u r saying is right' but then suddenly as if from an after thought he said 'this is the minimum required to clear man!!'

The result, Binomial had the last laugh......Daya debacle meant he never came back to our study sessions.  We missed him but always wished he will clear that exam one day.  

Later he became close friend of an over grown giant who had a love for maths and had a maths family to go with him even after college!!

the scar on the face of ram pyari

Not many people know but I used to call my cycle as ram pyari, when I was in school.  Some how that name got transfered on to my scooty once in high school.  I was always bit excited while driving that little green beast.  Thinking it was the fastest thing mankind has ever produced.  My father always kept it in good shape, so that I can spoil it.

But just few months in to college, the first thing I remember about those days, my ram pyari received a major scar near the headlamp.  Thanks to the motu and lambu.  We were playing cricket that day and they took it from me to patao a girl somewhere near hopes.  And when they came back they had this sorry face.  I dont know how but motu somehow saw the funny side of it.  I was shocked.  

We lied at home (hope my parents dont read it), that lambu fell with it to save some old lady.  God save the soul of that old lady.  But that scar remained with it for four long year.  

the genesis

Didn't really get a six strings

But remember it for all those unsung songs

What ever I will be in my next life 

It will be because of that...........

SUMMER OF '99

Yes, it was that summer of '99 when I finally started to look up to life.  After four years of hardship at school, trying to accept a different culture and trying to imitate the dark Gentlemen out there in Perks school coimbatore, it was time to move on.  Time to join college.... Time to join the TCE as they called it.  It was not the place but the people who made it special.  By this blog I am trying to remember some of those small incidences that are etched in my memory forever.  Some of them made me happy, some of them sad but all were just pure sweet memories.