Dreams Aren't Real

Chapter 2

18th June ’14

“Next, enrollment number…” The guy wearing dark blue coat was shouting to people sitting in the auditorium. We’d gone there for counselling, after I had had my test results. Though I didn’t have a very good rank, I managed to get into this most-sought-for branch, B.Tech. in computer science. This college, however, wasn’t known for computer science. I didn’t care.

“Enrollment number A690213013,” that was me, I had never been to a counselling session. I was made to sit with seven other people who had much greater percentage than I had. A guy with huge spectacles, and a “hitler-ish” moustache came in accompanied by two other men holding a MacBook each. He gestured us to sit, and started explaining some shit about other branches of engineering which I never even considered worthy enough for me. Or rather, I wasn’t worthy enough for them. Whichever way it was, I knew what I had to choose, so I started looking for cute girls around me. The guy besides me whispered, “He’s looking at you.” I turned immediately.

“So, Mr… Arihant,” he said in his baritone, sexy enough for a girl to fall for him, “what do you think is happening over here?”

I stood up at once, “Counselling?” I guessed. Everyone laughed, and as I turned I could see a glimpse of the girl I was searching for. Her pink top, with a grey hoodie was looking perfect on her. In fact, she’d look perfect with anything on, or maybe, off. And my imaginations flourished, taking me to a different dimension. I am quite a dreamer, and I love to daydream about things that can’t happen in reality. These dreams always take me to some other dimension, and I forget what’s happening around me. I have heard somewhere that these dreams are an extension of the reality and often happen sometime in real, and that’s what people call Déjà vu. 

“Are you even listening?” Shouted the hitler-guy. Now I knew why he’d kept that moustache.

“Sir, I don’t care about what others branches you have to offer, I’m gonna take up CS.” To this he got red with fury, but then he told one of the guys with MacBook to take me aside and make me fill up a form. I did as I was directed, and as I was leaving the room, I leered at her once more. Radhika, as I read it from the placard placed in front of her, stood up next and went up to the MacBook guy to fill up her form. Her not-very-long hair stroking her pretty face in front of a sunlit window was the perfect sight. She filled up the form in no time, while the MacBook guy was constantly ogling at her assets. I felt like punching that scumbag right in his face. I walked out, so did she, and went up straight to her father with the receipt. I waited there for my dad to come, as I was told to do. He showed up after about fifteen minutes.

“How did you get out so soon?” That was the first thing he asked. He always surprised me with his insensitivity, but that was something I had inherited.

“I had a tiff with the counselling guy. So he made me fill the form first.”

“Great! Kids these days are so arrogant. When I was your age…” I didn’t usually listen to such things.

He drove me back to our home where everyone was excited that I got into some college. Mom had invited Gayatri aunty, the lady who had taken the authority to criticize each and everything present on this planet. She used to be our neighbour when we lived in the hospital quarters. My dad was a neurosurgeon, so we used to live in mental hospital’s quarters but as soon as he got to the ranks of director, he chose to step out of the campus, and we started to live in Punjabi Bagh, one of the poshest areas of Delhi. Dad always used to act indifferent when he saw Gayatri aunty, and so he went into his room. But it was me who had to face this ever-condemning woman.

“Beta, where is your college?”

“Dehradun.” I said, waiting for a disgusting complain.