Life Is What You Make It A Story Of Love, Hope And How Determination Can Overcome Even Destiny (4 page)

“You mean like this?” asked Juana, as she unbuttoned her shirt, thrust out her breasts that spilled out of lacy lingerie and did a neat pelvic movement with her right hand placed just under her belly button, a bit like a bar-dancer. I gasped in shock, as the others burst out laughing. I was beginning to discover that there was indeed something liberating about an all-woman atmosphere. Here you could be yourself totally. There were no men who would ogle at you, there was no need to watch if your bra strap showed and skirts could be as short as you liked, tops could be as transparent as plastic and nobody really raised an eyebrow. It was a capsulated, insulated world and I was slowly beginning to understand it.

“Whoa! Nice! Is it Lovable or Victoria's?” Priya called out.

“Juana, that is enough. We all know your secret fantasy to star in a cabaret musical in Madrid. Now get back to practice,” said Sanjana before Juana could answer Priya's question. They were obviously used to this kind of ribaldry and fun.

“Oooh! Don't get worked up, darling,” drawled Juana as she buttoned up her shirt, did another seductive move, and blew a kiss at Sanjana, who rolled her eyes.

It was Juana who had choreographed the entire song. Sanjana and Suvi helped with the costumes. The dancers wore smart soldier costumes complete with all details including the caps worn by the U.S Army Corps. The song they had chosen was a old popular wartime song. The underplayed sensuality, the uniforms, the props, the well chosen piece of music and the superbly coordinated dance movements made the whole scene look like it was right out of a movie. The girls never missed a beat. They were dancing like professionals! For all her fooling around, Juana really knew her stuff and had done a great job in coaching the girls. “Surely we'll win western dance.” I told Sanjana as I watched them, mesmerised by their performance.

“Yeah, we will. Eyes of Mahaveer guys will pop out,” sniggered Priya knowingly.

Mahaveer College was a co-ed college. It was an inside joke at Agnes that even the best looking girl at Mahaveers, could not match up to an average looking girl at Agnes. And funnily it was true. At cultural events like these, the guys from Mahaveers would be trying to impress the Agnes girls desperately, and strangely there would always be very few girls in any of their own teams. There would be a lot of other management institutes too taking part and they would travel from all over India to stay in Cochin for three to four days, the duration of the festival. Here too men far out- numbered the women.

It was at
Symphony
that year that Sanjana introduced me to Abhishek, Dhiren and Christy. She already knew them from previous years and had met them many times. Abhishek was the general secretary and Dhiren was the chairman of Mahaveer College students union.

“Meet Ankita, our new Arts Club Secretary,” said Sanjana as she introduced us. “ Ankita, watch out Christy is a great quizzer, Dhiren and Abhishek are very good at public speaking.”

“And I play the guitar too,” smiled Abhishek.

“Hi,” I smiled as my brain registered all the information. Dhiren was tall and thin, clean shaven and dressed in a formal shirt and trousers. Abhishek was much shorter. He was stout, had a roundish face that sported slight stubble, wore glasses and looked friendly and jovial. Christy was very fair, muscular, and slightly taller than Abhishek.

“So what do you do, apart from being so pretty?” asked Abhishek as he shook my hand.

“Excuse me!” I answered. “I expected a line slightly less corny than that one.”

“Oh! But it's true. You
are
very pretty.”

I was amused at his blatant and shameless flattery and did not know what to say.

“Catch you later guys. We have things to coordinate” said Sanjana, stepping in to rescue me.

“Where's your list?” she asked. She and I had made a detailed list with names of participants, props needed by them, timing of their events and the venue they had to be at with dates, along with the transport details, which college bus would be picking them up, from where and at what time. It needed a lot of planning and I had written it all down in a beautiful thick hard bound, brown leather diary, which was my dad's gift to me. The diary also had a lot of high quality glossy pictures of paintings by great artists. I really liked the diary and it had come in very handy. I took it out of my bag and both of us went over the details together, along with Priya and the other office bearers.

We made three teams consisting of two office bearers and decided that each team would be present at the three different venues where the events were taking place, so that if any contingency arose we could take care of it. Sanjana and I headed to the Ravi Varma auditorium where the public speaking and later the western dance events would take place. What I did not anticipate was that a contingency would arise at our venue.

“Hey Ankita. There's nobody for English Elocution from our college,” said Suvi in a panic.

“What happened? Jeena was supposed to be here. What about Sindhu? How can both not be there?” I asked the panic beginning to show in my voice, as I looked at my diary. The event was about to start in 20 minutes and it was the first event of the day.

“Jeena's grandma died this morning. She got a phone call and had to go. Sindhu has laryngitis and is not able to speak even a word. I found all this out just now when the second bus came from the hostel.”

“Damn! What do we do?” I looked at Sanjana in dismay.

Jeena and Sindhu were excellent orators and had won it the previous year. They were strong candidates and without them, I felt crippled.

I really admired Sanjana's calmness. “These things happen,” she said unruffled. “Don't worry. I'll step in for Jeena and you for Sindhu,” she said.

“What? Me?” I was aghast. “I have never done this before.”

“Calm down. There is no other option. We will lose points if there is a no-show. Yo u'll just have to step in.”

I stood there in the auditorium that day, feeling foolish, ill-prepared and very small as I took the mike and spoke on the topic of the day which was “Is the Mandal Commission report justified?” I had no idea what I said. I had not read the Mandal Commission reports in the papers. Sanjana was very well informed about it. Apparently in her third year, she had just written a paper on it. I stammered and muttered and spoke for about two and a half minutes before concluding and stepping down, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and shame. Sanjana spoke beautifully and the auditorium resounded with wild cheering after she finished.

“You were not bad at all for a first timer,” comforted Sanjana, later.

“Not bad? I was a disaster. I spoke for less than three minutes.”

“The maximum time allowed is six minutes anyway. Three minutes is really not bad,” she insisted.

When the results were announced, Abhishek had come first, Sanjana managed a second. A wild cheer went up from our girls in the audience and I joined in their cheering. I was relieved that we got at least a second place. Every point would help in the tally for overall championship which was our aim.

The second day of Symphony went off smoothly, with no absentees, no hitches and everything running like clockwork. My legs hurt from being on my feet for long hours and I realised it was a painful mistake to wear high heels. We were in the second place for overall championship by the end of the day.

In the bus on the way home, Priya said “We all saw Abhi hovering around you the whole day today, especially when you sat down. He just wouldn't leave your side.”

“Come on!” I said “He chose to sit there just like that. Just to make small talk, I guess. Dhiren and Christy were sitting too. It's not like I was sitting with him exclusively. And he looks like that at everybody. You should know!” I defended myself.

“No, I do know him. Abhi is not like the rest of the guys. Now, Christy being like that would be natural. Do you know what Christy did last Valentine?”

“What? “ I asked curiously.

“He gave fourteen red roses and fourteen ‘I love you’ cards.”

“Wow, to you?” I asked.

“Well, technically the correct answer would be yes. But apart from me, he also gave it to thirteen other girls,” she laughed.

Everybody joined in the laughter.

“And whom did Abhi give it to?” I asked, curiosity now getting the better of me.

“No-one!” said Priya triumphantly. “See, he was waiting for you!”

“Shut up,” I said. But I smiled.

On the third day of
Symphony
, the tables turned in our favour. It was a close call. We managed to win the overall championship by just 10 points and this was because of our victory in Western dance. Our girls had danced exceedingly well.

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAH” yelled the girls, deafening everybody when they heard the compere announcing it. They jumped. They shouted they cheered. They fell over themselves hugging each other. Sanjana and I had already run backstage.

I hugged Juana and all the dancers.

Juana was crying with joy.

“Three cheers for St. Agnes. Hip Hip…” said Sanjana

“HURRAH” yelled the girls.

It was late in the evening by the time the prize distribution ceremony began. We felt great collecting the huge gleaming trophy for the overall championship of Symphony that year. Sanjana, Priya and I collected it and then we called all the other girls on stage. Sr. Evangeline, Sr. Bertha and all of them would be really happy. We hadn't let them down. More importantly it was a huge boost for us, as we had not let ourselves down. Our confidence in our abilities soared with this victory. It wasn't easy but we had done it.

“Winner's treat. Join me for a cup of coffee?” asked Abhishek, after the entire event was over. I had been on my feet the whole day and I was very hungry and suddenly tired. The cup of coffee was tempting, but I wasn't sure I wanted to go with Abhishek. I looked for Suvi to bail me out, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Go on, I know you badly want that coffee,” said Priya. “I'd have joined you but I'm waiting for Juana and the girls. They are changing and I am the guardian of time,” she laughed as she held out her hands. They were full of watches and bracelets belonging to the girls in the western dance. “Go for God's sake. Don't think so much for a cup of coffee!” urged Priya again.

“Okay, let's go,” I told Abhishek.

“Oh my God! You have actually agreed? I cannot believe my luck! I must check my horoscope for today.”

“Shut up,” I smiled, “I do need that coffee.”

We walked to the canteen which was on a small hillock, a ten minute walk from the auditorium. He ordered cutlets too, as we sat down. I pulled up an extra chair and he ran to get it out for me.

“Come on, just tell me to get it. Ladies should never pull up chairs for themselves.”

“Ladies shouldn't put up their feet either, but excuse me I'm going to do just that. Sorry,” I said, as I propped my feet on the extra chair he had just pulled up.

We sat in silence, eating cutlets and having that much needed cup of coffee. I was completely immersed in my thoughts and in the events of the day. My reverie was suddenly broken when Abhi said “Hey, aren't those your college buses, heading back?”

I looked at the two yellow buses making their way down the hill and jumped up. As the buses turned I could see the girls leaning out and yelling in chorus in a sing song voice, “Have fun. Enjoy. See you at college.”

I looked at Abhi and he smiled and shrugged. I was so angry with the girls. How could they be so callous, leaving me behind and how in the world could they presume that I wanted to spend time with Abhi?! I was angry with Suvi, because I expected her to have convinced the others. Then again, a group of girls, high on adrenaline pumped by victory can be absolutely crazy and I doubted if they would have listened to her. But the immediate problem on hand was to get back to college which was a good 45 kilometres away. It was already 7.30.P.M and I could get a public bus, provided I walked to the bus stop and waited there. I didn't even know at what time the next bus would arrive, and wasn't sure if it was safe waiting in the bus stop all by myself, at this hour that too in a deserted remote area. Most of the students stayed on campus itself and most used their own vehicles to reach the city. Nobody really used the state transport buses.

“Look,” said Abhi, “I can drop you back.”

“I can take a bus.”

“I'll wait with you in the bus stop then. But the last bus might have already left. We'd just be wasting our time.”

I still hesitated.

“Hey, I am not such a bad guy. I promise madam that you'll be safe with me.”

I agreed. I didn't have much choice anyway. Later I would know that this was all a part of an intricate plan that Abhi had hatched along with Priya, Sanjana and the other girls, just so that he could get me to ride on his bike with him. Thankfully I did not know it at that point. Otherwise I'd probably have exploded with rage.

“See, I have a Bullet,” He said as he wheeled out his motor bike proudly.

“The only bullet that makes an impact on me is the one you put to your head.” I said.

He laughed and started the bike.

“Don't try your stupid ‘braking suddenly’ tricks with me, “ I warned him, as I sat behind him, suddenly feeling awkward and a bit shy. “And listen, I am holding your shoulder but please don't get any ideas.” I added, as I placed my right hand on his shoulder, to steady myself. I felt very self conscious as I did it but the last thing I wanted was falling off the bike, on this unasked for, unplanned and unexpected adventure.

“Come on, Ankita. I am already in heaven. And I am not that cheap too, to try the brake trick. But may I ask you how you know about it?”

Every guy knows that when a woman is on the pillion with him, the easiest way for him to get to feel her is to brake suddenly and by the impact, her body would be propelled forward and would collide with his. “I have a brother. He tells me stuff.” I smiled, as Abhishek accelerated and the bike sped towards the city.

4

Girl on a Motorcycle

S
o what else has your brother told you?” asked Abhi, turning around slightly so that I could hear him, over the din of his bike.