He didn’t look up but gestured that it would take him few seconds.
I let out a sigh, obviously to show him that I was irritated.
“Sorry, sorry. I was just in middle of the sum”
He marked my mess card and I just left the place scorning.
This story repeated every day, every meal and every five hours. Our college had 2 food messes
and I never changed my eating place even once.
I saw this particular mess guy who was always involved in some book. He took some time to
mark our mess cards. I didn’t bother to ask him what he was doing.
I studied, did projects, presented papers, wrote tests and even got through a job in the final year
but the mess anna didn’t change a bit.
He sat in the corner, busy with books, scribbling small numbers with his short pencil and smiling
apologetically at everyone who waited for him to mark the mess card.
Time flew and it was last before day of college life when I saw him. He was counting the coupons
of the mess.
I didn’t know why but a feeling inside me pushed to ask him questions.
“Hi, I am leaving college tomorrow”, I told him to start the conversation.
“Nice ji, all the best. Placements ho gaya?”, he asked. (Are you done with placements?)
“Ya, mostly I would be joining in Bangalore. What about you? What were you doing all these
days?, I asked in curiosity.
“Nothing ma’am. Looking at so many people studying MBA travelling from all over country, I
felt I must also study”, he replied.
“Oh! Wow! What course? Why didn’t your parents send you to study?”, I added more questions.
“I don’t have parents. And I need to earn to study. Two reasons”, he gestured smiling at me.
My heart melted and filled with guilt at same time.
“Why are you glum? Come on! They are more under privileged people than me. Feel sorry for
them, not me”, he smiled again
“Take my number”, I told him pulling out my mobile.
“What?”, he asked in confusion.
“Take my number and let me know what books you need. I will courier it. Let me know of you
need something else too”, I explained.
He looked reluctantly and then punched my number in his phone.
“What should I store as your name?”, I asked.
“Yadav, ma’am. Yadav. And thanks. I don’t know what to say…”, he controlled his emotions.
I smiled and joined my friends in the mess. I am to educate one Indian.
Please vote for me here