India · Letters · Travel · World



ProxyAs I sat on the couch, I started typing a mail to my client. I thought of working at a coffee shop instead of spending time in my sterile office.  While couple of college kids walked by me, I concentrated on my email. Emails are a very important piece of communication today. Email decides who will have the last word. Email is the seal of your achievement in any office if written to the right people with the right prose.  An email CCed (carbon copied) to your bosses can make or break your appraisals.

But somehow I could not concentrate on the white screen which had my signature and designation. All I could hear was the guy behind me laughing on how he managed to get seventy percent attendance through proxy attendance in his college.

My mind reeled back eleven years from this very moment.  I was sitting with my best friend taking notes when I nineteen. Most of my class was not present. We were the nerds who sat for almost every class. We ended up giving attendance to almost ten people from my class. Most of the professors had given up on us. We slowly learnt to bunk classes and rely on other friends to give proxy for us.  Our class was as silly as hundreds of other classes in college. We fought, cried and cursed each other. I even fell in love with a boy in that stupid class. It was the birthplace of many dreams.

It was the day after the serial bomb blasts. My friend and I had fought with our parents and had come to college when it was curfew. We wanted to show the world that we are not afraid. We were scared as hell and any bag in the train made our heart beat so fast that I could hear hers and she could hear mine. We entered the class thinking that we would need to give attendance for almost everyone.  While we entered the class we heard a huge commotion. Everyone was present. Even the boy who never attended any lecture was present. The girl who we called ‘the paint shop’ (since she applied a lot of makeup) was there with her cute little short skirt and spaghetti top. Sadly our professors didn’t turn up.

That day we spent the entire evening debating and discussing about our life and the future.  We saw the news in the local chai shop ate egg bhurji, smoked cigarettes and played music. I remember taking the attendance sheet and each of us signing the sheet as a mark that will not step down.

As sit I today with broken dreams and unfulfilled promises, I think should I keep in touch with my batch mates. Most of us are hungover with the bittersweet memories which took place elven years ago. For now it is alright that we are not in touch, we stalk each other on Facebook, and we sometimes talk about our escapades to our better halves. We are now immune to death, wars and foolish politicians. Maturity is a double edged sword for the youth. It makes one not vulnerable to almost anything.

For now I will have to put a proxy in my heart and live with the memories when we had the courage to dare. I got back to my email, which I wrote elaborately on how my team and I delivered a stupendous project on a weekend, because right now that’s the only thing that counts these days.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s