The Perfect Photo

Chapter 13

I wasn't sure how I was identified not to be a first-year student. Was I looking so damn old that the professor thought that there is no way in hell I could be a first-year student?

Then I realized my mistake. My ID card, Damn!!!. I was wearing the tag around my neck like a proud Olympian. The identity card in my college was distributed in distinct colors for various year students. I never knew why they had that stupid concept. I had a blue ID card, and I couldn't recollect what the first years had. I hated myself for making such a stupid mistake. I should have left it back at the hostel or the least have had the common sense to remove it and shove it into my bag before entering the campus. What a dumb thing to do!!! My excitement has overshadowed my clarity of thought. The negligence on my part has gotten me into this trouble.

I tried to talk to the professor a couple of times. But he shrugged off asking me to save the stories for later. I did not want to keep going on after he'd stopped me. If he had been my professor during one of my semesters, he would know that I am not someone who would be involved with ragging. He looked new, probably someone who handled one of the first years. I wanted to clear my mind before I reach Dean's office. I did not want to be panicky and get myself in deeper shit.

We reached Dean's office building and took the stairs up to the first floor. "Wait here", he said stopping me inside a room to which I've never been.

As I waited, I felt my tummy turning big time. I have never been caught in such a situation where I was accused of wrongdoing. Somehow I had not cried till then. Thinking about it, I felt it might have possibly helped if I had cried. A girl crying would get some sympathy. If Neha had been with me, she would have definitely cried, even if not because she was scared but at least to get leverage to escape the offense.

But I don't think I can manage to cry, mainly because I did not do anything wrong. I wondered if I should tell them that I was there to meet Pritam and that he was my family or acquaintance which might probably help me get out of this. Telling the truth might actually have me narrate a different ragging incident with the other boys, and I would not want to go that route unless that is my only way out. I did not want to throw them under the bus after promising that I wouldn't.

Dean's secretary walked into the room with the professor to her side. She was short, probably in her late 40's, just how I would imagine the dean's secretary to be. She wore spectacles which sat on the edge of her nose while she predominantly saw over her glasses.

"She is the one, Mam", said the professor as he pointed towards me. There was much hatred in his eyes. It was like I had just murdered his whole family with a semi-automatic rifle.

"Very well then. Since this is a possible ragging offense, We will be recording everything you will say. The room is fitted with cameras for that very purpose, and we will cross verify the information to check if you are telling the truth", she said. I was a bit dumbstruck hearing that. I was not even caught ragging someone; I was only brought here under probable suspicion. I wanted to shout that to her but refrained later.

It also struck me that my plan to call Pritam my family just went out of the window. But on the other hand, I was not sure if there is going to be any recordings and cross verifications. They might just be bluffing. But with the kind of money they get in the form of donations, anything could be possible. I was not ready to take any chances here.

I could feel my phone vibrating. It should be Neha. She has no clue where I am, and she should probably be pissed off by now.

"We start off with your name", she began. "Harsha", I said in a very low voice. "Please speak up, Which year and department?".

"Third year, economics", I said as she noted them on her personal computer.

"So now tell me, what were you doing in the first year campus?"

I had just thought of something which might help me get out of this situation. But if fate had different plans I might be accused of lying and might find myself staring down a suspension order.

I took a deep breath and started unflinchingly, "There was a first-year student who wanted to join the cultural society. He wanted to know the details of what we did and what the procedure was to join the team. So I had come to the campus to meet him and give him the information", I lied hoping for the best to happen from there on.

"How and when did the student ask you ?", she asked.

"I am the chief coordinator of the cultural society. I was organizing the cultural events last week. That was when he met me and mentioned his interest to be a part of our group."

"Hmm. Fair enough. Isn't Radha Chandrasekaran, the staff representative of the society?", she asked adjusting her glasses. I nodded.

She stared at her computer for a minute looking up for something and then picked up her phone and dialed. She put the phone on speaker as it rang waiting for a response from the other side.

"Hello", someone answered from the other side. It was Prof. Radha's voice. I was a bit stunned to see them do this. They weren't bluffing at all. Secretary took her time explaining the situation at hand and confirmed from Radha mam that I was indeed a part of the society. She made sure that I was an actual contributor and not just using the name of a group to get away. Prof. Radha knew me very well and gave her assurance to the secretary that I am not someone who would get involved in ragging. I was in her good books, and I was thankful for that. Though she doesn't teach me economics, I was one of those very few who took her part-time involvement in the cultural society seriously. It looked like my lie has worked out well, and I would shortly be out of this horrible place which now felt like an interrogation room to me.

She kept the phone down. "That's cleared up", she said looking up at the professor. I somehow felt she wasn't entirely convinced and there was a palpable disappointment on the first year professor's face. He seemed like a person who had caught a big fish but left it to slip back into the water.

"What was the name of the first year student who had approached you ?", she asked.

Not knowing why she is asking that I replied back, "Pritam Patel."

She looked back up at the professor and said, "Can you please fetch me the student's directory from across the hall. I do not have that information on my computer yet."

"I do not want to leave no stone unturned. We are quickly going to make a call to this student and confirm your statement. After which, you are free to go."

I felt the following series of events take place in slow motion as I watched open mouthed. She received the directory from the professor and started dialing Pritam's mobile number on her phone. Pritam has no clue what I had just mentioned, and no way is he going to be able to make sense and help me out.

The phone rang, and I wished he did not pick it up. Two rings and he answered. I could hear the printer behind me buzz as it printed something. The next time the printer makes the same sound, it could be the sound of my suspension letter being lettered.