Coloured Me Grey (Book Two)

Chapter 7

Within a month of classes at my college, I knew what was going to be my favourite class this year. The last two hours of Wood Sculpting class, of course. And did I mention that I didn't talk to anyone except the teachers, the office staff and Chacha Ji? Like, none of the other students? Well, now I did. There you go, two months of college and I have had absolutely zero social life. I didn't even remember the faces of anyone from my class except a girl who once sat beside me in the History of Art class and never repeated the same mistake again.

Sigh, at least that way I wouldn't fall in love and end up hurting someone in my own special way.

"Riyaaz." My stupor broke. "Pay attention."

That was Maity Sir asking me to put the book aside and pay attention to him after most of the students had arrived and the bell had rung. I thought History would be boring but now I was really starting to get used to it.

Is it weird that I was being such a nerd to not even hear the bell ring? Nah, that's really sexy.

Great, now I'm starting to find myself sexy - not good Riyaaz, you don't have to be the modern Narcissus.

I smiled secretly at my thoughts and directed my attention to the blackboard. Ajanta Cave Painting - I already knew about that from the book.

"Now who can tell me the name of the ruler who patronized the Ajanta cave paintings?"

Even my ass did. But I wasn't supposed to answer. The other students weren't supposed to know that I had been reading books provided by the teacher before classes. The teacher wasn't supposed to be partial. Too many suppositions.

It's weird how in another month our first semester will end and I won't be a Fresher anymore. By the way, there had been a Freshers' Welcome Party in this last month in the college, and of course I didn't attend.

When did the class end? Zoning out would be the death of me.

Maybe one day I'll space out in the middle of the road and later be like, wooh, when did this bus run over me?

I get hilariously morbid thoughts these days.

It wasn't long before I found myself standing before Studio-1, which was our Wood-Sculpting studio. They say good things always seem to end faster than usual. My days at the art college seemed to fly away real fast. Time had acquired giant albatross wings now.

I let myself inside the empty room and closely inspected Pramila Ma'am's hand-carved wooden penstand on her desk. It has always been an object of my fascination. There was a little button-like cube slightly raised from the surface - almost like a child who knows Santa Claus isn't real yet makes up a list and tucks it inside his X-Mas socks, I pressed the button even if it wouldn't budge. But to my utter surprise, it did budge and a cute little lid clicked open from the other surface.

I looked inside it in wonder as I took in every little intricate designs it had to offer. The detailing was more here than on the outer surfaces and bore the letters P and S on either sides.

'P' is for Pramila - even the dumbest idiot would get that. But S? Neither her maiden surname nor her surname after marriage started with an 'S' (excuse me, everyone is a stalker on Facebook, we all know how many times you've stalked your ex). This should be the initial of the husband's name.

Lucky dude got his name carved by this amazing artist.

Just as I was thinking all the crap, I heard the door of the little room inside the studio open behind me and caught the eye of my favourite teacher. She smiled. "Earlier than the bell as usual." She shut the door behind her and took off the side-bag from her shoulders.