That one fine day, I was chatting with one of my female friends (NO, NOT GIRLFRIEND). Starting with just usual chitchat – teasing and mockery, we arrived at a topic about how our school days have moulded the present 21 – yrs – old – legally – eligible – to – marry – fellows. Talking about school days, it just struck me, “Man, I have never ever practically been in co-ed in my whole life!!!!!”
Before I go any further, lemme give you a perspective to my history. In Kindergarten, we had girls in our class, but fortunately or unfortunately, no sense to differentiate between sexes. They were all same to me, anatomically as well as psychologically. So, practically, I was deprived of Co-Education in my kindergartens.
Then followed the Primaries. Although the school was for both – girls and boys, the boys were in afternoon shift while girls in morning. So, when I finally get some knowledge about the fairer sex, they are no more around me to carry out my experiments. Here too, NO CO-ED. The situation continued till SSC. Well, you may consider it as one of the reasons I topped school in 10th, coz who knows, the situation might have been pretty different with girls around.
In higher secondary, 11th and 12th, we had co-ed, but with the so-called burden of studies of PCMB, I never got time to interact with femme fatales studying with me. Here, the curriculum ruined it.
And finally, in college, I somehow managed to get admission in Mechanical Engineering, famous for its alarmingly skewed sex-ratio and phenomenally high testosterone levels. Imagine, just two girls in a class of 90. JUST 2!!!!!
And now, about my future; with a job offer from L&T in hand, I can hardly expect to feel some feminine touch at a place where the main job is welding metals and pouring concrete mixtures in steel frames.
But, sometimes I wonder, was it really so terrible not being in Co-Ed? Would I have been any more sophisticated and complex with females as my comrades? I guess so, but at the same time, I am blissful about the experiences I had in an atmosphere that was rough and tough and kinda “uncivilized”.
Let me start with my primary school. It was a school of bullies (we GEEKS used to call them DADA). And being one of the few school geeks, I had to face a lot of troubles during the exam times. Sometimes, my notes were stolen on the eve of exam, or a DADA would threat me to help him pass the tests. And things were really intolerable whenever I found my stationeries missing. I had to end it all by any mean. I could not fight with them; they were all “Hulks”. But then, I observed, as there were different gangs of DADAs, why not make friends with one of the gang leaders, and ask him for help whenever I had any trouble. And that’s exactly what I did. And guess what, it worked; no more stealing my stuff, no more threats; all I had to do was to talk as a friend with my “new friends”. That is when I learned my first diplomatic approach towards life.
These DADAs were mostly of intolerant-towards-Hindus type. They had a habit of grabbing away a lion’s share from our lunch during recess times. They termed it as Hafta-Vasooli for our protection from our enemies. Once it happened that one of my friends, Mehul, had brought some Laddus in lunch; they were the “Prasad” of Lord Ganesh. When a bully arrived to have his share, Mehul told him that it was a “Prasad” and therefore, should be eaten with respect. That very moment the bully went away with weird expressions on his face. This gave us an idea; whenever we friends gathered to have our lunch, we would chant some “Shloks” and make it “Prasad”. And the bullies would never dare to come near that lunch. That is when I came to know that although our Constitution frames India to be secular, it has not been yet possible to remove all the hatred between the majorities and minorities. But we have to live through it.
Now, towards a lighter side - our school canteen. Man, it was a scene; they only gathering bigger than that could be the Kumbh Mela. As soon as the recess bell rang, we would rush towards the canteen to buy “Masala Pav” or “Cream Pav” or Pop-Corn. The canteen was like a small room in which the items came from a nearby bakery. There was a collapsible railing which acted as a border between the canteen and students. And it was no lesser than a challenge to get something from the canteen. We had to push ourselves through the crowd, reach towards the railing, climb on it, and shout at the top of our voice what we wanted. But there were some “social-workers” who did the job for fellow students. They would act as waiters, hanging on the railing, and taking our orders. They were the most respected guys in school, because the whole process of buying our lunch by ourselves would consume the whole recess and there would be no time left to eat it. Ironic, but true.
And did I tell you about the “gang-wars” I witnessed once or twice a week? O no, I didn’t. The so-called primary school kids were not just innocent teenagers; they became deadly when the reputation of their gang was at stake. Once or twice a week, the rival gang members used to gather on the school ground after the school hours for a duel. And their weapons would be cycle chains, clubs, lathis, etc. – I would say the only thing missing was cars and guns. And with such mindless people, the battle was supposed to be bloody. As a spectator, it was a real fun to watch the live Gladiators fighting the Roman warriors. This situation would never have arisen if there were girls. Or would it have?
There are a million other experiences I dare not share with you – like my first crush on one of the morning shift girls and my clumsiness in proposing her (don’t blame me, I was just 12 then,; it was the first time I talked to a girl, and the only thing I said was …….u know…..I couldn’t be any more clumsy).
Now, with my grease smeared apron and hands, there are hardly any chances to learn about female ways of life, and to make female friends. Luckily (or unluckily), I have some. But they have never seen me all oily and dirty. So, it’s not long, when the only girls I know are my mother, my sisters, my aunts and if I am extremely God-Gifted, my wife.
However, when I look back to my teenage life, I feel nostalgic; only if I could get one more chance to live it again; one more chance to have those Goon-Friends back; one more chance to watch the re-telecast of the “Gladiator matches” and one more chance to propose to my teenage love.
