UNTIL THE END (#Watty's 2017)

When Elbows Wrestle

There are two things that are unlimited in India. Firstly, the population of Gods and secondly the population of science students. The purpose of high school is often reduced to get inhumanly  high marks. Unlike west, you'll find that in an Indian high school,  the students are the Vikings and exams are the Romans. Without marks, you won't get into a good college, in turn you won't get a good job. Bad jobs meant smaller car, smaller houses and in turn smaller respect in the social and familial hierarchy . My life wasn't different. A good grade in secondary school meant that shackles of science stream were bound around my neck. My aspirations, my goals, my dreams and my life were insignificant to the larger picture that middle class families see through a keyhole. 
With each passing day, these shackles constricted around my neck, until the day when a social tag of Doctor is added before my name. But to get into a good college, high school isn't enough and thus comes in some help, expensive but yet help.

It was rather a humid day, the monsoons were just around the corner. The street was barren, a typical 7'o clock scenario. I stood before a shiny building, which in contrast to the street seemed to be bustling with life. Like every middle class Indian, my parents were adamant to send me to a premier coaching classes. Despite my strong protests, here I was standing in a rather large swanky classroom. A classroom with all amenities, but lacking in emotions. Even a prison cell would seem chirpier than this horrid classroom, where bright minds with creative futures were turned into monotone bots, with all the knowledge but no creativity or speaks of curiosity.

 I quickly surveyed the room and mindlessly settled into the second bench, which was right under the air conditioning duct. Atlas air conditioning was a solace in this humid weather. Just as I thought everything was going alright with my history of misfortunes but who was I to bend the God's will. I collided with something or better to say someone who would be the last person I would have liked to see. "Ouch, can't you see or did you had a concussion while sleeping and became a lunatic " she said, anger evident on her sharp tongue. It took me a while to gather myself again and I replied in a monotonous sing-song voice "Good morning to you to. Before you let your minuscule brain work overtime,  I was here first" I said, anger dripping from my voice. 'God I hate this woman' I mentally cringed.  I tossed my bag across the bench and claiming it as my own. I smirk evident on my face. "Good gracious" I muttered, what were the odds that I was struck with her. 'Odds are never in my favour' I chuckled. She pouted on seeing my antics and before she could say anything, the door opened and a rather tired looking professor entered the room. Seeing that she was still standing there, I looked back and much to my dismay, the class was already full. I had no choice but to bulge over and share the bench with her.  Alas, sharing a bench started  our bitter-sweet relationship.

The first hour was hardly bearable. The lessons was strenuous but  antics of my bench "partner" were down right irritating. At fifteen minute mark, she tied her hair in a bun, while doing so two things happened. Firstly, she dropped some stray hair on my notebook. Secondly, I saw a glimpse of her ID card. Tanya Sehgal. Somehow I continuously managed to get rid of her hair, she  brought out thousands of differently coloured pencils. Probably her case contained more colours than what was known to mankind. What was most infuriating that she started to underline every inch of her notebook. 'It's not a bloody art class' I wanted to scream. The lesson were already going painfully and the brown eyed monster was scribbling so fast that the entire table was shacking like a ship in turbulent waters. The professor was an old lady, probably only in movies you get gorgeous teachers. Here was I, in the morning hours of a perfectly fine Sunday looking at a lady probably in her early fifties, speaking continuously for past hour and half in a rather monotonous voice on the failure of Daltons theory of Atoms. She too seemed bored, but alas work is work. 

 After another torturous 15 minutes of Chemistry lesson, she out of no where, slipped out of her monotone and asked us "What is Graham's law, class". Only one hand rose in the entire class and it was her, the brown eyed monster. I chuckled at the odds. She had to be in the same coaching class, same room and even on the same table, raising her hand with so much excitement that it seemed that there was no tomorrow. I could swear, that  no normal human can raise their hands so high and straight. She was on the verge of bouncing on our table and reciting her answer. I don't know whether the professor had a sadistic sense of humour or whether she noticed my smirk at seeing my table partner's reaction, she just gave a smile and pointed her finger towards me; "You answer".  I gathered  stood up, with a neural face. Tanya had a smug look on her face, her face lit like Christmas came early. 'Let's show this girl her place' I thought and started " Well ma'am, didn't  Mr. Graham found experimentally that the rate of effusion of a gas is inversely proportional to the square root of the mass of its particles."

I sat down, mustering a smug look rivalling her now mute expression. 'Armaan 1 Tanya 0' I chuckled mentally. "Good explanation, now everyone mark page 42, line 6, for its application" the professor said before returning to her monotone. I picked up  my fountain pen and started to underline when an elbow nudged me in my chest. I looked at Tanya with a confused expression. "Don't write on the books with pen" she injected. " Mind your own business " I retorted and in defiance I flicked my pens on her book. This earned me another elbow nudge from her. I had enough of this, and nudged her back. Our tussle went for a few minutes. When she thought it was over, she went back to underlining her notebook, almost determinant to decorate her book with every colour of the rainbow, probably showing me the correct way to underline things. The class was about to be excused and I was discretely packing my bag when I accidentally nudged her. God, her face was so frightening that i could swear that even Satan would be proud and envious . She wasn't expecting that I would nudge her and lost her concentration while underlining, causing her ever straight line to go zigzag. At that particular moment,  Medusa would  look like Tinkle Bell. She was about to retort, probably physically, when the bell rang.
"Lesson for next time, no one messes with me, Tinkle Bell" I said; giving her a mock salute before hastily leaving the class, leaving behind an active volcano, that was on the verge of exploding and probably drowning the entire world.

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