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# System prepended metadata

title: Stress

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# Stress

*(Part 4 of 6: Back to the Past)*

15 assignments due, 4 backlogs, 2 grade-backs!
Buzz buzz! ‘Internship canceled.’
2 grade-backs, 4 backlogs, 15 assignments due! Buzz buzz… 4 backlogs, 15 assignments due!

Reborn for its second life, my bicycle stares at me from amongst its fellows as I pace towards it with a slice of bread in hand and a load of the new ‘normal’ on my back. All thanks to the nightmare still invading my mind, for showing up as a proxy for the morning alarm I betrayed, engrossed in horrifying thoughts of ‘Exams in 15 days!’

Fuelled by the messed-up breakfast and already late for class, I launch my cycle with a speed of mach 1, loaded with terror and chit – chats about upcoming exams. In this heroic process, the strands of my uncombed hair shake hands with the foggy atmosphere before I make my way through the main gate to the red fort – Lecture Avenue. Eventually passing the two tests, one gifted by the virus on-trend and the professor’s suspicious eyes being the other, I rest my case on the only vacant seat squared with social distancing. It isn’t long before the devil from my nightmare invokes me again! ’15 assignments due, 4 backlogs…’ The words instill poison in my veins while my dilated pupils stare blankly at strange figures on the green board I kept neglecting throughout the online era. Lost in turmoil, my thoughts trace back to academics I’ve long divorced and their claim for alimony, due in 15 days (14 and a half), on failing which, I’d be doomed!

Minutes pass, hours flee, professors replace each other in a strange game of figures, and the not-so-normal evening breaks through NITR walls again. The most unusual part of the century begins when, instead of the sports arena, my cycle takes the lane between Ceramicsmdepartment and the main building, debarred of the google chrome facility for exams- the lane to the Library, a place I visited less for studies and more to catch a glimpse of her. The changes imposed by the pandemic fail to amaze me any more and the only constancy I encounter is the rose garden, multifarious and green as ever. The lawns that served as a hub of group studies and Kalaam’s poetry sessions, see nothing but loners. The banyan tree longs for spicy gossips over fuming cups of Nescafe’s coffee and the paradise of refreshment, ‘Arun tea stall’ registers fewer dues these days.

Syncing myself with the ironies, my cycle with its buddies, body temperature with cross-checks at the door, and footsteps with the stairs, I redeem my seat on the first floor.  A deafening silence accentuates the oddity of the place and humming whispers stay masked with faces. A tough competition for all the dating apps, Biju Pattnaik Library marks a plateau in sign-ups and logins. A few constant faces who probably pay extra Library fees instead of hostel rent, being the exception. I feel bad for the couples yearning to claim their Oyo ticket here, for the receptionist gets replaced by Corona, though the singleton part of me feels a sense of relief. Ah! You can call me a hypocrite. The legend ‘pairs are made in heaven’ that ruled out here seems to be in danger now. After all, mine’s a product of the same building, for it was the place where I saw her for the first time. Her purple top and black earrings messed up my heart and the miraculous evening spellbound me forever.

My eyes, lit with laptop’s screen, vainly lying wide open before me, look for her throughout the room with a sense of usuality but receive a loud and clear ‘no’. After all, what’s usual these days? Struggling to concentrate on the very first page of the 4-credit course, I hear my cell phone buzzing in succession. ‘10 missed calls, 15 unseen messages’, from none other than my friends waiting at the back post with gallons of Maggie and squads ready for PUBG, crowd my notifications panel. I silently pray they don’t get a cardiac arrest on hearing my location and curse my slutty bed for seducing me to sleep every time I visit my room. Hours pass by and the mountain of syllabus stands the same before me with zero ascent value and the next sound I hear is the ‘time’s up’ bell chimes before I descend and proceed towards my black buddy.  In the process I envision few people making their way to the reading room, a place that never had sufficient space and chairs but finds vacancy these days in the light of COVID.

After a fulsome dinner, few taunts from friends, a tirade to self, and 14 days in hand,  I proceed towards my bed with each step advancing towards the devil in my dreams. And the final buzz breaks in, ‘Her birthday tomorrow!’

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***Content by Reshmi
design by Millen***

