Delhi 2

'Do you speak in full sentences?' Prof. Gupta said in a firm voice.

I didn't fully understand his question. I kept quiet.

'Do you?' he asked again.

'Yes, yes,

'I said, my voice like a convict's.

'So...why do you want to study at St. Stephen's?'

A few seconds of silence followed. The four men in the room

lpoked at me.The professor had asked me a standard question.

'I want good college,

'I said, after constructing the sentence in my

head.

Prof. Gupta smirked. 'That is some response. And why is St.

Stephen's a good college?'

I switched to Hindi. Answering in English would require pauses

and make me come across as stupid. Maybe I was stupid, but I did not

want them to know that.

'Your college has a big name. It is famous in Bihar also,

'I said.

'Can you please answer in English?' Prof. Gupta said.

'Why? You don't know Hindi?'I said in reflex, and in Hindi.

I saw my blunder in their horrified faces. I had not said it in

defiance; I really wanted to know why they had to interview me in

English when I was more comfortable in Hindi. Of course, I didn't

know then that Stephen's professors didn't like being asked to speak

in Hindi.

'Professor Pereira, how did this candidate get an interview'?' Prof.

Gupta said.

Prof. Pereira seemed to be the kindest of the lot. He turned to me.

'We prefer English as the medium of instruction in our college, that's

all.'

Without English, I felt naked. I started thinking about my return

trip to Bihar. I didn't belong here—these English-speaking monsters

would eat me alive. I was wondering what would be the best way to

take their leave when Piyush Yadav broke my chain of thought.

'Bihar se ho? Are you from Bihar?' he said.

The few words in Hindi felt like cold drops of rain on a scorching

summer's day. I loved Piyush Yadav in that instant.

'Yes, sir. Dumraon.'

'I know.Three hours from Patna, right?' he said.

'You know Dumraon?'I said. I could have kissed his feet. The

three English-speaking monsters continued to stare.

'I'm from Patna. Anyway, tell them about your achievements in

basketball,

' Piyush said.

I nodded. He sensed my nervousness and spoke again.'Take your

time. I am Hindi-medium, too. I know the feeling.'

The three professors looked at Piyush as if wondering how he had

ever managed to get a job at the college.

I composed myself and spoke my rehearsed lines.

'Sir, I have played state-level basketball for six years. Last year, I

was in the waiting list for the BFI national team.'

'BFI?'said Prof. Gupta.

'Basketball Federation of India,

' Piyush answered for me, even

though I knew the answer.

'And you want to do sociology. Why?' Prof. Fernandez said.

'It's an easy course, No need to study. Is that it?' Prof. Gupta

remarked.

I didn't, know whether Gupta had something against me, was

generally grumpy or suffered from constipation.

'I am from rural area.'

'I am from a rural area,

' Gupta said, emphasizing the 'a' as if

omitting it was a criminal offence.

'Hindi, sir? Can I explain in Hindi?'

Nobody answered. I had little choice. I took my chances and

responded in my language. 'My mother runs a school and works with

the villagers. I wanted to learn more about our society. Why are our

villages so backward? Why do we have so many differences based on

caste and religion? I thought I could find some answers in this course.'

Prof. Gupta understood me perfectly well. However, he was what

English-speaking people would call an 'uptight prick'. He asked