It was another afternoon of whiling away time as we waited, all packed, for the clock to strike 2 20. So that we could avail the 2 40. In a staffroom which spelled 'ease' the way it is spelled, with me tucked between my Dreamboss, and my Buddy. In front, an array of characters, some of whom we were dissecting to happy finger-food bits. In front, also, comfort articles - coasters, made by me out of runny brown boxes which held University answer-sheets, our own coffee mugs which held coffee made to our taste, little blocks of Government marble-slabs we used as paper-weight, each of which were doodled upon. All in all, a day well-spent, 'frying bherandas'.
At such an opportune time, the two women on either side began an interesting discussion. Really interesting. Typically intense with assumptions and snacks. And when I am really, really listening, I tend to doodle. So, with all marble-slabs covered, and papers tucked away from my reach, the only thing available was SM's (Buddy) Micromax mobile-phone which had a white coloured flip-cover. And her ball-point pen on which too, on some weird day I had scribbled the names of her two daughters. Like on her tiffin box. Having doodled, I didn't have the guts to face the fact that I did and with a bit of shame turned my head to my left and gestured to BRC, "I didn't do it on purpose." She saw, cleared her throat, and said, "Swaty, your white cover I guess is no longer so."
SM is an outstanding character. PhDing since the last ten years, and handling two kindergarten daughters, nothing in this world dares to ruffle her. Except things like - missing an AC Bus, which would destroy her National Library routine, or, Kents doodling on her things which may bring upon a fight at home. And so, she is disturbed that the doodle would now give rise to tens of questions at home, "Why not us?" I was sincerely sorry. I understand her race with time and couldn't undo it. But she moved on to the aalu-kaabli like seamless waves and said "no point worrying."
A day later, SM and I have invigilation duty, a rare day when BRC would not come in, August 5th. We used to get different classrooms assigned so that our breaks would be spent together. But I was greeted with a surprise when SM walked in to my room to 'Hi' me. She sat down and sorted out the time when we would go out for lunch, when she chanced upon a loose-chit I had caught off a student and had started doodling on it. And then came the story.
"Kents! I forgot to mention! I went home other day and Chini (the younger one) asked me, noticing the phone cover, "What is this?" Complete with a tone of accusation. Then Mithi (the elder one) joined in. "Maa, when I become big, will I have a phone?"
SM: Doesn't obviously know where this was leading. "Yes."
Mithi: "Will it have a cover?"
SM: Having a faint idea of where it was heading. "Yes."
Mithi: "Will Kens draw on my phone?" (Yes, the daughters call me that variation of Kents)
SM: "But you can draw on it yourself!"
Mithi: "But I can't draw as good as her!"
And that, ladies, gentleman and children, was the best compliment I have ever received. From a child who is as pencil-crayon friendly, to entrust me to do it, on her future-phone cover. SM later added that Mithi was so happy with me that she would, if she could, even buy me a house on the moon.
Doodling is obviously something which comes naturally to me, and unconsciously. I have never much paid attention when people mentioned liking them. But this was special. The most pristine and unsullied appreciation, ever. Thank you, Mithi. Means an awful lot. Incidentally, it also turned out to be the day I received the call some hours later from JDBI, offering me a full-time position. I was overwhelmed. I was rendered speechless. I was in a happy-mess.
And I was certainly sure, which made me happier.
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