In Sion, there is a six storey building called the S.I.E.S College of Commerce and Economics. A boy was seated in one of the classrooms on the sixth floor, lost in his own melancholic mind… That is me.
Villainous for not attending lectures and proving professors erroneous, I sat there on the third row from the right, with a guy named Charbi.
I had somehow managed to wake up early, travel from Andheri to make this lecture on time. I receive upon setting foot on Sion station, a sms stating that the professor won’t be able to make it to his own lecture. It only happens in SIES college (BBI degree course) that the Professors bunk more of their lectures than the students.
Back to the story. Charbi and myself we talking football (read soccer). Actually, it was Charbi doing all the talking. I just sat there lost in my own world, pretending to listen to his droning about Manchester United to the absolute painful detail.
“I still don’t agree to Sir Alex’s decision to …” Charbi went on.
I would counter him with an arsenal of one word responses such as “Yup.”, “Sure”, “Exactly” and a sporadic “Good for you!” just to prevent myself from drooling.
Just after a dozen exactly(s) I asked him “How is your Hundred mark project coming along?”
Charbi looked up as if someone had woken him up out of a deep slumber by pouring a mug of cold water in his ears.
“It’s basically finished you know, the Guide said its ok but I didn’t feel ok y’know…”
I cursed myself. His monologue on football was comparatively interesting (read endurable)
Ten minutes had passed after Charbi had started his elucidation on how he had swayed his acquaintance to get his project printed for cheap; he had just started to give me an account of the money saved due to his brilliance, when I saw a round black guy enter the classroom.
“HEY ! SAD! HERE! COME!” I half yelled, imitating the incredible hulk trying to sound cool at the same time deteriorating to mask my desperation for a change in the conversation, rather a raconteur.
“Hey Robbs! Hi Charb !” sad greeted us.
He sat on the desk in front of ours. He was smiling as if he had inhaled nitrous oxide on his way here. Being the self-proclaimed partisan of Sherlock Holmes, I deduced at once the reason for Sad’s NO2 smile. Chelsea’s win was written all over his face.
Out of extreme anxiety, I yelled telepathically * No more football! He’s been going at it for the past hour!*
“Chelsea won yesterday!” he said gleefully illuminating teeth that could light up Stanford bridge.
“It was lucky. The referee was clearly favoring Chelsea. I mean that tackle by terry was deserving of a yellow card…”
It was too late. Charbi had started.
Sad looked at me dubiously. He realized the error of his ways and tried in vain to interject or change the topic. His constant effort was not rewarded but punished when suddenly out of nowhere, the topic shifted to Manchester United. Charbi had started to explain the reason and the thoughts of the player behind every kick and tackle. There was no stopping him now.
I heard Sad curse telepathically *Damn!*
I was amazed. Sad up till now had not shown the remote ability to converse using telepathy. I concentrated my ability towards Sad and asked him about the project.
*What? Aren’t we allowed to talk?* the thought.
*How’s your project comin along?* I asked again.
*Charbi’s in form today. I wonder what Robby’s thinking*
*Hey! Here I am trying to talk to you…* I yelled.
*Prasadios Halepetis the Macedonian defender now moves to block Vetrislav Sehlan. He has today blocked three long shots by Liker Roberossi…*
I sighed and went back to my own sinister mind killing zombies and drinking blood seeking colossal power which would…
Me, Sad and Charbi were talking football in an empty classroom. Actually, it was charbi doing all the talking.
