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

by Preeti Shenoy

  On most days, I would leave home at 7.A.M as it took me a about an hour and twenty minutes to get to college. I learnt to manage the commute, in no time at all.

  At my new college, everybody went all out to welcome us, the freshmen. The Dean, the Director and two other professors addressed us. They said the usual things that are said on such occasions. They talked about how this was the first step in a new journey, how we would be transformed at the end of the course and how we would lead and take our places in the corporate world. They spoke about the glory of the Institute. They gave us an outline of what to expect. Then there was a slide show. There was one slide which made us feel very important—they had calculated the number of people who had applied and the number that finally got selected and told us the probability of getting selected and that we were in a privileged fraction. They made us feel special and a part of an elite family. After this we took a break for snacks and refreshments.

  The second part of the session was an ice breaking session. They had put all our names into a bowl and drew out five at a time, and the five that they drew out formed a group. There were only twelve girls in my class. The men far outnumbered the women. By a strange quirk, my group had three girls including myself. All the other groups had just one girl or were all-male. The two boys who were in our group were getting undisguised envious looks from other guys as if saying “Lucky dogs”. We were given time to discuss and prepare and we had to present a short ad film about our group, with slides, introducing each member, their likes, dislikes and anything else we thought relevant. They asked us to be as creative and different as we could. They gave us OHP sheets and markers and set us to work. Initially everyone seemed hesitant and lost, but gradually everyone started speaking and in no time there was laughter, ribbing and discussions as each group got involved in the task at hand.

  The two girls in my group were Chaya and Jigna, both of whom had been born and brought up in Bombay. They presented a study in contrast. Chaya was thin and short and looked like a child who was in Class 10, not a student of a Management Institute. Jigna was very tall, fair and well built with short hair and very confident. I found the name Jigna to be very unusual and had to ask her twice what her name was. Jigna had no work experience like me and was fresh from college. But Chaya had been working with a financial firm for a year. Of the two guys, the first namely Joseph, looked like an absent minded professor. He had a mop of unruly curly hair and twinkling eyes. Joseph had worked for two years at a shipping firm. Uday was bearded and had an air of restlessness and arrogance about him. He was fresh from an engineering college but looked a lot older than a student who had just finished Engineering.

  The classes at my new college began in right earnest.

  My days at Agnes seemed like a different lifetime and a different world. It had been only about two months since I moved to Bombay but it felt like I had been here forever. Maybe it was my attitude or maybe it was the place, but I had taken to it marvellously and was completely at ease. I had made new friends too and I felt happy that I fitted in.

  I had really begun to enjoy my course even though the methodology for teaching used in a Management School was different from anything I had experienced before. It was the first time I discovered that subjects could be taught without books or lectures, at least not the conventional way.

  I heard from both Suvi and Vaibhav. I was delighted to get their letters and be back in touch.

  It was around this time that I began to take an active interest in running. I do not know how it started, but suddenly I decided that I would begin jogging. I had always been actively involved in sports at school but I seemed to have forgotten it at college. I announced my intentions to my parents and kept the spare key to the house so that I would not disturb my parents when I went out. The residential complex I stayed in had a lovely jogging track and I would wake up at 5.00 A.M. and begin my day with a jog. It was invigorating. I felt full of energy and so lively as I began my day. Sights that I would normally not see—newspapers being stacked in piles, ready to be delivered, the milk sachets arriving, people walking their dogs, old people doing yoga in a group in the park—all this greeted me and I looked at it, marvelling that there was an entire new ‘m orning world’ out there, right under my nose something that I had missed earlier.

  When I reached college that day, Jigna and Joseph both remarked how charged up I was looking.

  Later when we took a break for tea, Joseph took me aside and asked if I had been doing drugs.

  “Oh no! I don't even smoke,” I said and he laughed at how horrified I looked.

  “Come on yaar. It is not as though it is the ultimate sin. You looked kind of manic, this morning.” he said.

  “It may not be the ultimate sin but it definitely is not for me. Maybe I am looking ‘charged up’, as you call it, because I have started jogging.”

  “Ah-ha! That explains it! It seems you have this store house of energy that you are waiting to unleash.”

  Later on the way home, I thought about what he said. It was the first time that someone had described me as manic. He was unwittingly very close to the truth, but of course at that time neither he nor I or anybody else in the world had even the slightest inkling or suspicion about it. On the surface I seemed normal. But underneath changes were taking place, so subtle, so gradual and slowly, much like the gradual movements in tectonic plates which would then result in a large outburst like a volcanic eruption. Had I known about it then, perhaps I could have taken a path that took a different turn. But nobody was aware, least of all me. If I had woken up one morning and found myself transformed into a completely different person, perhaps the change would have been obvious. It was a series of events that had to be pieced together gradually like a jigsaw puzzle and it was only when you finished the jigsaw that it made sense.

  I began sleeping less and less. On most days I got home by 7.30 P.M or sometimes 8.00. My mother would always have a hot meal ready for me. She felt I was working very hard which I indeed was. After we had our meal together my parents would retire for the night. I would begin studying the books I had borrowed from the Institute library. It was like a whole new door had opened and there was so much to discover.

  I began studying seriously. I started to make elaborate notes about everything I read. I felt that if I colour coded them I could remember it better. So I bought a pack of sketch pens and colour pencils. If there was a particular explanation I liked from a Philip Kotler book, I would write it in green. If there was an example which perfectly illustrated what had just been explained I would use an orange sketch pen and write it down. Surprisingly, the more I began writing in colours the more clear things began to become. I was delighted with this secret discovery of mine. It was as though I had suddenly discovered a magic power. The most amazing thing about it was that, the next day or even days after I wrote, I could instantly recall every single word down to the last detail. I had begun seeing words as visuals. I had always been very fast at reading. My verbal ability was one of my strengths which had helped me clear the entrance test, making up for my deficiency with numbers. But now it seemed to have improved three times. I felt like a monster devouring books. I was always hungry. I wanted more and more. This obsession would cost me dearly later. Things have a way of balancing out. But it felt so good and I was so exhilarated with the discovery of this ‘power’ that I did not want it to stop. It was almost as though I had a photographic memory. The passages I wrote were so clear in my mind. I could reproduce them almost verbatim. The bonus was that I perfectly understood all of it too. It was not that I was merely reproducing words without comprehending them. I could close my eyes and clearly see the pages and pages of notes I had made in colour. The images were indeed like photographs and I seem to keep clicking mental pictures. What I had not anticipated was running out of film.

  Most days I would be studying way past 2.00.A.M. I was so excited at the prospect of studying and learning even more things than I already knew that I just c
ould not sleep. By 5.00.A.M, the next morning, I was up again, back to my jogging track. As I jogged I would recall everything I read the previous night and everything I had made notes about. My notes began increasing rapidly and I filed them neatly. Sometimes in the margins I drew pictures that would help me remember what I had read. I made acronyms which would help me in recalling almost all the points that explained a particular concept. Perhaps it was a way of exorcising Abhi's memories or perhaps it was my enthusiasm to excel which made me work so hard, I don't know. Whatever it was, it seemed to be propelling me forward and pushing me to work harder and harder.

  After I got back from my jog, I would rush to college. My parents were happy to see me working so much. If they knew what was to come later they would have probably stopped me. But they did not and they felt very proud of their ‘star-child’.

  My stamina began to improve dramatically. I could jog great distances without going out of breath. I was no longer satisfied with slow jogging. I started practising sprints. One morning I wanted to see how fast I could run. I wanted to measure the distance and I had no measuring tape. My watch had a stop-watch function and I timed myself. When I finished I was astonished to see that I could run 100 metres in about 13.8 seconds. I was certain that it was close to the national record. This discovery gave me such a thrill that I just could not keep quiet about it. When I came home I told my parents about it.

  My mother said “I think you should stop this jogging of yours. Look at you. You have become so thin. You look like someone who escaped from a concentration camp.”

  I was irritated with my mother but I chose to keep quiet. Afterwards, I looked at myself in a full length mirror. My mother did have a point. I was shocked to see how thin I had become. But I consoled myself saying one could never be too thin or too rich.

  Later, when I met my friends I could not contain my discovery about my running speed. I told Joseph, Chaya and Jigna about it.

  “Hail! Here is India's next P . T . Usha,” said Joseph and the others sniggered.

  “Come on guys. Time me. I will prove it,” I said.

  A lot of people had gathered to watch the challenge. I was certain I could do it. Joseph had measured the 100 metre distance in the open quadrangle of the Institute and set the starting and finishing marks.

  Jigna was at the start. She said “Ready, steady and go” and I sprinted.

  I completed it in 13.8 seconds.

  “Arre. Yeh sach mein P.T. Usha nikli boss!” Joseph exclaimed.

  I walked up to Joseph and said in a quiet voice, “Don' t ever fucking doubt what I say in future? Got it?” There was an edge in my voice which was alien to me. I had no idea why I was seething and aggressive. It was as though I wanted to strike him. I could suddenly see the concern and slight fear in his eyes. Everybody was quiet. It seemed very funny and I started laughing uncontrollably. There was silence for a fraction of a second and then all of them joined in the laughter and the moment passed off as a joke. But I sensed something in me close to snapping at that point in time. But as was my usual way, I brushed it aside.

  I.T or information technology was one of the subjects in the course. We had an exam coming up soon. I studied like a maniac. I had made extensive notes again in colour. When the results came out a week later, I had topped the class. I had scored a ninety eight out of hundred. The person who came second was Uday and he had scored only seventy six. The Faculty who taught the course was very impressed with me. But I was far from happy. I kept looking at the paper and kept getting angry that I had lost two marks. It was as if I was possessed by a spirit of perfection.

  “I like your attitude. Very well done,” said Sushil Mehra, the faculty for the course. He was very young and everybody called him Sushil.

  “But Sushil, I was expecting a centum,” I said, the disappointment showing in my voice.

  “Next time, Ankita,” he smiled.

  There was to be no next time. This was the zenith, the pinnacle. There would be more mountains to climb but of a different kind. But to climb those I had to descend first.

  But before I descended I would stun everybody including myself. The chain of events that happened at the first Inter collegiate event in my new course was the backdrop to it.

  That was to come later. For now I was content and secure basking in the glory of my academic success and my daily running.

  11

  Dancing in the dark

  The cultural festival was exactly like the numerous ones I had attended in my previous college but it was not competitive at all. It was more for fun and entertainment. Ye t it had a lot of corporate sponsors. I was told that it gave the seniors a good working experience to organise such events.

  When we entered the venue, I was dazzled by the flamboyant way it was done up. The glitter, glamour and the stylish way the compere was addressing everyone, the huge speakers and the shiny ball in the centre suspended from the ceiling which reflected disco lights, the dance floor, the stage, the corporate banners that blended in seamlessly and smoothly, were all well integrated.

  Chaya, Jigna, Uday and Joseph too were impressed. We were a little late and it had already begun. The compere was now announcing the next contest which was popularly called JAM or ‘Just a minute’.

  “You must take part in this,” Joseph said.

  The Compere was calling for entries and before I could protest to Joseph, he caught my hand and raised it high, calling out my name. She immediately announced it on the mike and I had no option but to go up on stage.

  Standing on that stage with the spotlight focussed on me I felt a strange sense of exhilaration. A million thoughts were swarming in my mind like a pack of bees whose beehive has been disturbed. I struggled to rein them in. They were floating across in hordes and my mind struggled to keep up the pace. I tried to slow down my thinking, tried to desperately make sense of what I was feeling but the more I tried the more aware I became that I couldn't. A sense of ecstatic feeling was washing over me in waves.

  I was aware of the compere now pushing a bowl towards me which held bits of paper that had the topic for JAM written on them. I took out one and opened it. It read “Clint Eastwood's drinking preference Good Vodka, Bad Martini and Ugly Rum.” I had ten seconds to compose my thoughts and then I would have to speak on the topic without a pause, a stammer, a stutter or a grammatical error. The theme sound track from the motion picture ‘Good, Bad and Ugly’ started playing and suddenly every note in the music that was playing in the background became so poignant, so clear and so very intense.

  As the music faded I started speaking about how Ms. Martini, Ms. Vodka and Ms. Rum were actually three ladies who had a crush on Eastwood and how their styles of sipping alcohol affected their relationship with Eastwood. I spoke effortlessly and my speech was full of sexual innuendos and I had the audience roaring with laughter. I felt supremely charged up with my own cleverness and stunned myself by speaking so clearly and so engagingly that the compere forgot to ring the bell at the end of one minute. I continued for a full three minutes, before she realised and then interrupted me and announced my amazing performance. By now the audience was screaming “More! More! Let her continue. We want to hear more.” I grabbed the mike from the compere and continued for two more minutes. I was feeling invincible, irresistible, charming and at the top of the world. When I stepped off the stage, with thunderous applause resounding in my ears, Joseph came and hugged me and carried me in the air and I squealed in delight as I told him to put me down. Chaya, Jigna and Uday crowded around me and looked at me with awe.

  “Oh my God! You are really too good yaar. We had no idea you were that good!” said Jigna.

  The music now changed to dance music and alcohol and starters were being served. The rest of the evening was purely party time and people had already begun dancing. I suddenly wanted to dance. I was never one to be this enthusiastic and usually preferred to be a bystander, but I seemed to have transformed entirely that night. It was as if a different person
had completely taken over me.

  “Come on, let us dance,” I told Joseph who was surprised as I pulled him towards the dance floor and we began dancing. It was as if I had drunk a lot but the truth was I had not touched a drop of alcohol. I was dancing with wild abandon and gyrating wildly. The music playing was a Samba number and it perfectly matched my upbeat, frenzied mood. I realised I was feeling flirtatious and I danced close to Joseph for a long time. I could see he was thoroughly enjoying it and at one point he had his hands snaked around my waist. I felt seductive, attractive and experienced a sense of profound joy. Each rhythm and beat, each note, each sound of music became crystal clear to me and I could suddenly feel the piercing beauty of each individual note. My body seemed to have got a super charge and the ones around me seemed to feel my magnetism too.

  We finally stopped after a long time. Then Joseph asked me if I wanted to go up to the terrace. He said the view was marvellous.

  I agreed immediately without much thought. I could see Chaya dancing at the other end of the dance floor. Jigna was enjoying a drink and talking to a guy I did not recognise. I gestured to her that I was going upstairs. She nodded absent-mindedly.

  Joseph and I made our way upstairs, through a narrow set of stairs. As we went up, the cool night breeze hit my face. There seemed to be a million stars in the sky. We could hear the music from downstairs very clearly.

  I looked around the terrace and found that many people were sitting around. Some couples were making out. Some stood at the edge of the parapet, looking around at the millions of twinkling lights that looked as magnificent as the stars in the sky. The city stretched out for miles around, spread out like a magic carpet, it's ugly underbelly, crowded buildings, streets, sprawling slums and millions of people cloaked by the magic darkness of the night studded with glowing city lights , unaware of the happenings on top of this single building that was a part of its thousands.