This happened when I was in the first year in college. The college opened in the first week of May. Most of my classmates were from my school, so adjustment was not an issue. Two weeks passed and by then we had settled into the new found freedom of college life.

One day, a girl was escorted into the class. She was a Muslim, evidently from an ultra-conservative family. She was wearing a Burqa, an all enveloping garment for Muslim women, covering her entirely. This is to assist them in preserving modesty. She could peep at the world through a meshed veil. Worst of all, those days, all Burqa’s were black. This color, the best absorber of heat must have been baking the hapless ladies inside the Burqa..

A couple of days passed, and we found her constantly turning to the wall, lifting the veil as little as possible, and shoving a handkerchief in. We thought she was crying, and motioned the other girls in the class to ask her. It turned out that she had been sweating a great deal, and so wiping her face. You could imagine! May, in Hyderabad and Black clothes, is a deadly combination. Our college was famous for the excellent Lab & Library, but was notorious for lack of comfort of any sort. We had tin sheds for classes, with fans which were ancient relics. She, as she confided later, was very uncomfortable.

As she would not talk to anyone male, we lost interest in her and let her be. Then it happened! She came to the class very early one day, finding nobody, half closed the doors, and sitting under the fan happily, threw back her veil and was enjoying the cool draught. Then I stepped in the class. The noise of the doors opening must have alerted her, she pulled her veil down with lightening speed, while emitting a strange and extremely loud sound which seemed to be a blend of the screech of a white Owl, the scream of a banshee and howl of an Industrial siren.

The watchman came running to investigate, found her in the throes of a ghoulish opera, repeating the howl in the technique of a soprano who had a way of forgetting the libretto (lyrics). As for me I had taken cover under a bench with the alacrity that a Royal Commando would give a hand and a leg for. My immediate priority was to stuff something, anything into my ears and, nose and mouth for a good measure. The urgency was overpowering. Any orifice left unattended, in the cerebral area, would facilitate the cacophony, to devour me in the most excruciating and extended way. Such was the agony.

The watchman became the first casualty, went batty, hallucinated that he was the re-embodiment of Hercule Poirot’s spirit, concluded that I, somehow, was responsible for the female’s disquiet. It must have taken a hundredth of a second. Just as he made a very hostile advance towards me, we were joined by a crowd consisting of the college staff, the startled passersby from the street, maids/watchmen/concierge, from the neighboring buildings, and the idle riff-raff who wanted to know why there was a crowd.

Some wanted to exterminate me, some to carve me down, Alive!, some to call the police, and some went inexplicably emotional and demolished a couple of earthen pots of water. Decimation was looming, and I was cringing, without any emotion except terror, under the desk, wondering whether I would be able to leave a cursory note of thanks to my parents. The mob by now, had worked-up the mandatory frenzy. What was left now was, for the mob to rear up like a mad bull, and pounce on me.

Then the Physics Lecturer, made her appearance and the mob vanished. An imposing lady, she was quite capable of crushing an elephant if she chose to impose herself on the animal. One could never imagine a savior and support being so intimidating. The girl was given water to drink, and I was hauled to the staffroom. By now I was numb allover and had a strange whistling noise in my ears.

I found myself loosing and regaining focus, remember hearing snatches of haranguing interrogation, simultaneously, by half a dozen staff. The physical director entered. Not knowing the history of the issue didn’t matter, he proceeded to re-arrange the geography of my back, with the intensity of Mohammad Ali just before a bout. Luckily it didn’t matter because I was too far out in numbness. Taken aback and petrified that I would croak, the Principal intervened and enquired the girl in detail, found I had done no wrong and exonerated me. The physical director then, patted me on my back (A sort of unspoken apology), just as I was planning to batter him to a state of vegetation. Killing would have been too easy on him.

Having been riveted by the events the staff forgot to go to classes for the day. Nah! The students took advantage of the confusion and hightailed it to the nearest movie. That gave me a cult status, which was taken away a couple of days later when a couple made a botched attempt at eloping.

I don’t remember going home, I don’t remember eating. I remember waking up the next day, frozen in pain and made it to the college somehow. My back was swollen giving me the distinct look of a hunch-back. The adulation I got that day is unforgettable. I wished some girl had held my hand, but, it was not to be. But as soon as I saw this female, my anger kicked in. I swore I would get her to be social, and it showed. Heckling her was my pastime. Mean comments were doled out. I put her through the grind. Negative? Maybe!

The principal sensed this and summoned her father and threw the rule book at him, cajoled and threatened her. Ultimately after some informed persuasion (She was informed of the pending expulsion, her father was persuaded to believe it was for real), it was agreed that she would come robed and proper and be normally dressed in the class. No one was to disturb her (ME!). Strangely don’t feel guilty for what I did.

Was it my meanness, was it my immaturity, was it teen hormones?

You tell me!!