Life Is What You Make It A Story Of Love, Hope And How Determination Can Overcome Even Destiny (3 page)

This world that I've found

Is too good to be true

Standing here beside you

Want so much to give you

This love in my heart that I'm feeling for you”

A guitar solo was played here. And then it continued.

The whole song took about four and a half minutes. In between, I tried telling him to stop playing the song and that I get the sentiments behind it. But he continued playing it till the very end. Then he came on the line and said

“Happy birthday Ankita and I do mean every word in the lyrics of the song”.

I could have died right there and I would have been the happiest person on earth. I did not know what to say.

“Idiot,” I said finally. “Why did you waste time playing the whole song? We could have talked for that much time more.”

“Talk now. ”

“What do I say? I don't know what to say,” a huge smile stretched across my face.

“You could begin by saying what a great guy I am.”

“Rubbish. You are a dumbo and a fool. How did you manage it?”

“I have my ways.”

Those days there were no mp3 s or CDs or I-pods for music. We listened to music on spools of tape in a cassette which we used in tape recorders. He must have hunted for the tape for this song, rewound the tape to the exact point where it started, got batteries for the tape recorder, and then carried it to the phone booth, early in the morning. It was the month of December and I knew Delhi was freezing at that time. I was amazed and touched by the effort he made.

I wanted to talk for some more time to him. I did not want the phone call to end. I was feeling elated and on top of the world. Suddenly all the crazy things that I had read in books about what people in love did were beginning to make sense. So were the countless little things that lovers in movies did.

But somewhere, sense prevailed as I also knew that if my parents came back, it would ruin a perfectly great start to a birthday, that too one which was a milestone.

“I love you baby,” he said. The way his voice went all soft and low when he said it gave me goose bumps.
He had actually said the words.

“Hang up now,” I said. “And take care. Bye.”

I hung up before he did. I sat on the floor and a huge smile stretched across my face.

My heart sang. I felt ecstatic. I was still smiling when I heard the metallic clang of the gate again. I ran into my room, jumped into bed, covered myself with the blanket and kept smiling, the words of “Nothing's gonna stop us now” were going round and round in my head.

Once you know what direction to take, finding the path to it becomes easy. After experiencing the super-high that ‘Operation phone call’ gave both of us, we wanted more of it. Compared to this, waiting for letters seemed tame. Vaibhav said he would call me every Thursday. He chose Thursday as I had been born on a Thursday. I found the gesture charming. But then, I was beginning to find anything he did for me charming.

Each Thursday there would be so much to tell him when he called. This was in addition to the letters. I wanted to share so much with him. Every minute detail had to be shared, and he was just as eager to listen. He said he loved the sound of my voice. He said he could picture me sitting on the floor in my parents' bedroom and talking to him. He always began with a “Hey” in that low baritone which I had grown to love and ended by saying “Take care, ok? I love you.” His voice always went low and syrupy when he said that. I loved it.

He could have repeated that line a million times and I would have never tired of hearing it. What amazed both of us was that there was always so much to say. We never ran out of things to talk about. Each call must have lasted for about six or seven minutes as that was all he could afford and it somehow was never ever enough. I once mentioned to him that I could send him money for the phone calls as I felt guilty that he was spending so much. He wouldn't even hear of it and we never discussed it again.

On one Thursday, during yet another operation phone-call, my parents came back earlier than expected. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the main entrance door of the house opening. I must have been so engrossed that I hadn't heard the giveaway metallic clang of the gate. There was no time to dash out. I panicked, hung up, rolled over and hid under the bed.

Seconds later, my dad and mom walked straight into the bedroom. My heart was pounding and I felt like a burglar. I was desperately thinking up excuses to say if they found me there. The phone rang again. Vaibhav must have presumed that the line had got disconnected. My dad answered it and hung up when there was no reply from the other end. I lay under the bed, as still as a rock. And fortunately for me, neither of my parents discovered me. I lay there for at least forty five minutes, till my dad went out of the room. My mother was in the kitchen. I could tell by the sounds.

Later I crawled out and bolted to safety, feeling exactly like a commando who moves from one trench to another, during war time. I knew Vaibhav would call the next day. And I was back at the phone, waiting.

He did.

“Idiot,” I said “I nearly died. I had to lie under the bed for forty five minutes. You are a fool of the first order. Why the hell did you call back? You should have used your brains!”

He laughed and laughed some more. I laughed along with him, delighted to hear the sound of his laughter.

“How was I to know?” he said when he finally stopped laughing. “I nearly jumped out of the phone booth myself when your dad answered.”

I hung up quickly that day. I did not have the stomach to risk another trench operation.

3

Election Selection

T
he college elections in Kerala are a huge event as they are heavily politicised. It gave a good indication of which party would form the next Government. It was well known that political parties sponsor the campaign expenses of the students' wing of their respective parties. Posters are put up all over the town, especially at the places which students frequent. There are groups moving around in jeeps with loudspeakers blaring out announcements all around the campuses. There are fliers, and election speeches. There is intense competition and the air is electric. There were also instances where candidates were stabbed and killed because of inter group rivalry. It was a messy business.

St. Agnes wanted to steer clear of all this, and so the elections in our college were completely devoid of politics. It was a bit like school election, but on a much bigger scale. There were eight major official positions the most important being the posts of Chairperson, Arts Club Secretary and General Secretary. A notice was put up announcing the election dates and inviting nominations for the posts. Anybody could nominate a student for any position. The nomination forms had to be filled up in triplicate and submitted. It had to be endorsed by two other people.

Suvi shot into the college canteen like a rocket from her hostel and said “Did you all see the notice?”

“Yeah,” said Janie. “We saw it yesterday.”

“And..?” prompted Suvi

“And what?” I asked.

“Guess,” she said, her eyes gleaming. Her excitement was infectious. She looked charged.

“A re you contesting? Wo w! That's great!” I exclaimed.

“No you, idiot, you are.”

I was stunned. Then I recovered.

“What? What nonsense! How can I contest?” A second later I asked curiously, “What post?”

“ We have already filled up the forms and given your name for Arts Club Secretary,” she danced.

“What an idiot you are. Didn't you think of checking with me first? And who endorsed my nomination?” I spluttered, a little indignant, a lot flattered and also slightly reluctant all at the same time.

“Smitha and Hannah,” she said. They were her room mates in the hostel.

“Don't worry,” Suvi assured me. “We will do all the campaigning for you. It will be fun.”

“Yeah, right. It is fun for you. It is me who has to stand in front of all those people and beg for votes. I can't do it.”

“Weren't you the head girl in school?”

“So? That was different.
They
chose
me
. I did not have to beg for votes.”

“So—
we
choose
you
” said Suvi. “Vote for….” She shouted.

And to my surprise Janie and Charu shouted “Ankita” and they caught my hand and raised it, just like a referee of a boxing match raising the hand of a winner.

Everyone in the canteen turned to look and they continued their chants. “Ankita for Arts Secy. Vote for Ankita,” they continued screaming and my classmates who were in the canteen joined in.

When my initial embarrassment was gone, it was replaced by a sense of competitive spirit. My whole class got involved. Suvi appointed herself my chief campaign coordinator and managed to collect funds. I was surprised to see people actually contributing so much money. The whole hostel was behind me too. They had to be, with Suvi around! Suvi was such a whirlwind. She motivated everybody. They made posters. They made fliers and I led them like a true Indian politician. We went all around the campus. Suvi managed to hire a huge drum and between Smitha, Hannah and herself, they managed to carry it around and make a big noise. Sandhya got a bugle too and she led the ‘band’. I must admit she knew how to play it well and everybody came out to the see the unique musical entourage, cheering wildly, holding placards and posters urging all to vote for their candidate—‘Ankita for Arts Secy’. Initially I felt a bit silly doing it, but when I saw the frenzy that other candidates were whipping up I did not feel out of place anymore.

My opponent was a first year pre-degree student, the equivalent of a student of Class eleven. We were now in our second year of Bachelor's degree and naturally our campaign style, content and the support we gathered was so much better and more sophisticated than what they managed.

We took our breaks in the canteen, between campaign runs and speeches. We also discussed our next move, what the strong areas were, where I needed to focus and where we needed to campaign more strongly, which pockets were ours and which were not.

“Who will you vote for, for the Chairperson's post?” asked Charu.

“Undoubtedly, Sanjana Menon.” I said.

Sanjana was two years our senior and in the first year of post graduation. To me she was the epitome of a ‘perfect woman’. She looked gorgeous with perfectly chiselled aquiline features, light eyes that sparkled, a clear complexion, a fashionable haircut and a wonderful diction to match. She was tall, wore trendy clothes, spoke well and oozed confidence. She had even modelled for a few print advertisements and was the cover girl in a regional magazine.

All four of us ended up voting for Sanjana as chairperson.

When the results were announced, they carried me around the campus, shouting, screaming and cheering. I had won by a huge margin. Sanjana had won too and Priya was the new general secretary.

I just couldn't wait to tell Vaibhav.

The Investiture ceremony of the new office bearers was a grand event attended by almost all the students and faculty. The chief guest was a popular regional film actor. There were reporters from the media and flash bulbs went pop every few seconds. A good looking movie star surrounded by eight young ladies dressed up in saris was evidently a great photo opportunity.

It was the first time in my life that I was facing a crowd of at least 3000 people. Standing on the stage there, addressing them, with the spotlight on me, it all felt very surreal. I was a little nervous and my palms were slightly cold but I managed to deliver my short, rehearsed speech without any glitches.

After the event, the eight new office bearers went out for an official dinner, along with the Principal of St. Agnes, Sister Evangeline. It was a tradition that had been followed for many years. She lost no time in telling us about our responsibilities, our official duties and how we should set an example by our behaviour. She told us about the previous office bearers and what a wonderful job they had done, confident we would do the same. Our first task was already thrust upon us—The Management School of Cochin University had their annual cultural festival
‘Symphony’
coming up and our college had been invited to participate. St. Agnes had been the overall champions last year and Sr. Evangeline stressed the importance of kicking off the year with a good start.

She need not have. We were all as eager as race horses before the start of a race. We ourselves wanted to prove our worth. We were raring to go.

There were at least 15 events ranging from fun events like face painting, ad-world, dumb charades to serious ones like western dance, short story writing, painting and elocution. The college buses would take us to the venue which was a good 45 kilometres away and would return in the evening.

“No dirty dancing girls and no short skirts either. We don't want to
tempt
the booyzzzz,” called out Sanjana, stressing on ‘tempt’ and stretching ‘boys’, mimicking Sister Bertha (who headed the literature department and was involved in all the student activities) as three of us—Sanjana, Priya and I— watched the team for western dance practising.