Mithya XI- Looni's Valiant Chase

In this fifth 'chapter' from my almost autobiographical (life) story, I return to poetry (sonnets) format to make alive the time I spent at IITD.

 The tale (part I)

Player V: Looni’s Valiant Chase

(i)

I am I. M. Looni,  the captain cool;
called in tough situations, I am no fool,
or a stranger to the battle called play or life,
single as of now- I’m in search of a wife.

I had taken a vow during my school days,
-had made a society to reform the ways,
and character of myself, and my close friends,
that we will remain celibate and to those ends

I purposely keep my eyes glued to the ground,
for if I slip before hitting 25, I’ll not be proud.
25 is the magic year when brahmcharya will end,
til then I have to be cautious of the balls coming my end.

The first few balls caught me slightly off hook,
I’m trying to stay on crease, playing by the book.

(ii)

I might open slowly, but I’ll make it with depth
I have just joined IITD, so give me some breath,
I’ll come to the part when I first felt crushed,
but let's build the inning slowly, lest it feel rushed.

I knew her somewhat before I had come to the Insti,
-part of the same prep camp -though not the same city,
being from same state our paths had crossed through
it's safe to say I knew her, not sure if she knew me too!

Even at that time, she had a following of fans,
smitten by her beauty in combo with brains
it was a deadly deal enough to make sages budge,
however at that time I was focused on getting in the bus.

not distracted by the nymphs my aim was clear,
to get into the IITs and protect my virginity till 25th year.

(iii)

As luck would have, we ended up in same class,
same batch, same dept, but we were apart a class,
She could mix with boys, I was with girls tongue tied,
So though I felt a huge crush, to myself I lied.

I lied to myself that she was not worth the chase,
partly due to the long line of suitors already in race
So I kept my distance, lest my feelings get roused,
and hoped that with time my crush will get doused.

Deflecting sideways glances and smiles that were wicked,
I am not focused on scoring, just on not loosing my wicket.
The scoreboard is growing at a snails pace for sometime,
and then I discovered poetry - at first as pastime.

Putting in verse what I could not verbalise,
I finally said I love you- with no disguise.


(iv)

Putting on pen is easy, to publish on web easier,
wasn’t sure who was reading them, so my poems got cheesier,
the play on words took a life of its own,
I forgot about her- as if she was of stone.

A goddess loved from afar, offered homage silently,
immortalised in the poems, expressing my crush covertly
like a goddess wasn’t she supposed to know what I felt,
and bless me with an assurance that in my heart she dwelt.

While I poured my heart out in those poems of love,
I’m not sure she read them, maybe just heard from some,
fragments of pieces and  a rumour that I had a crush,
perhaps dismissed it lightly, with a shoulders brush.

not able to reach out or to make her my mate,
my poems developed an undercurrent of jealousy and hate.

(v)

Its not that I didn't try, I called her on V-day,
hoping against hope that she perhaps may,
agree for once to go on a date with me,
and in anticipation plucking roses from the Insti

yet she politely declined saying her parents had come
and that we may meet some other time- but I was done.
not sure if she had made the same excuse to others too,
I was dejected beyond words fearing others may boo.

So never approached her again, never made the first move,
Focused on the verse, with each line willing to prove
that I can hit sixes when ever I want, in my inimitable style
and that it was all about poetry-that it was done without guile.

The target was clear and unachievable too,
enough to kick me in the pants and aspire to.


(vi)

Then the finishing line started to draw towards a close,
I was shaken from my senses, I could no longer doze,
The industrial trip happened in the penultimate sem,
 and I discovered that under her shell she was a gem.

We finally came as close as we could,
singing songs in trains, laughing as we should,
For a while I thought from a crush it had graduated
into love that was both deep and reciprocated.

Back in college, the letting down of hairs stopped,
and when I first heard the news my jaws dropped
there was news afloat the she was dating a senior
that was the last straw- out came my veneer.
I withdrew in my shell penning a verse or two
Rejoicing in the fact that I was still not twenty two.


(vii)
The allure of seduction I had outlived well
on my path to win the match, am feeling swell.
I will get married eventually, but the time was not right
only a few balls left, let me sit through tight.

keep my cool as the match goes to the last power play,
try to make up for the lost balls, hit sixes when I may
move the game towards the last over, when the bowler’s stressed
and let her make the wrong move, while I stay blessed.

In the last few days of Insti, I managed to meet her alone,
with time pressure on, my fears were almost gone,
I apologised to her for my poems written for her,
She feigned ignorance- she didn’t knew, didn’t care.

I finally realised that the crush was always one sided,
my enthralment with poetry had left me blinded.


(viii)

Blinded to whatever else was going in parallel,
the ‘ragging’ incident too had become peripheral,
the fact that I won an election, became the hostel cult secy
and served the hotel becoming a lackey

celebrating the hostel day with a traditional theme,
and getting written on walls of hostel a Gita meme,
‘lokah tat anuvartate’ - was my philosophy of life
the world thus follows us- but did I pay a heavy price?

Trying to make freshers fearless and frank in their interactions,
and leading from the front was my undoing, my suspensions
that never happened were no solace
by being accused of ragging I had lost my face.

But these were fleeting things my whole attention was on the ball,
on keeping my wicket protected amidst all the gloomy pall.


(ix)

The mini-p happened and I was lost in my sonnets,

I took the lessons learnt to the BTP- no more poems,
and managed to get a decent CGPA and a decent job,
with work I thought the poems and the madness will stop.

Waiting for the last ball to make the scoring runs,
using to last lines to leverage word puns,
doesn’t always work, sooner or later you’ll get found,
and lose the match and your prestige sound.

I attempted civil services twice, not able to get through,
reading Gita to numb the pain, and start my life anew.
but with each defeat a piece of me was lost
I won the match for the team but at what cost?

I have had my time in the sun, now its time to say bye,
It's time to retire, and to marriage knot tie.