You Are as Cold as Ice…

“Still feels like a dream…” I said, raising my hand and feeling the fresh morning air as I looked at the clear blue sky through my unfurled fingers.

“It sure is. Getting into AFL is not everybody’s cup of tea. Just imagine… stepping into one of the poshest universities of the world. Wow! Just thinking about it makes me flooooat,” Aysha said, her body swaying with the wind.

AFL was one of the top institutions for architecture, arts and business management. Its students were not regular boys and girls; they all came from super-rich, influential families. As a matter of fact, AFL was originally built for such people, but the management later decided to open 5 per cent of seats every year to scholarship students, as an opportunity for regular students to experience high-quality education. In reality, this was more like a charity, devised to portray a good image for the institution. To secure these reserved seats, millions of students competed every year in a scholarship exam conducted by AFL. Those who secured top ranks were given scholarship seats. Hence, getting these seats was no less than a miracle.

“Yeah, and the rule to make the campus premises off limits to outsiders makes it even more exciting,” I said, smiling.

By the way, I’m Trisha. A middle-class family girl, I live alone with my mom who raised me singlehandedly on the little income she made as a typist in a small law firm. As for my dad, he lost his life to cancer when I was just five years old. Ever since, mom has been the sole breadwinner in our two-member family, working extra hard to make ends meet.

The girl jumping with joy next to me is Aysha. She too is from a middle-class family, although slightly better off than mine. Her dad owns a small grocery shop in the city and her mom is a housewife.

Aysha and I have been best friends since childhood. We started out in the same kindergarten and grew up sharing our lunch boxes. Although we live at opposite ends of the city, our mothers became close friends thanks to our friendship.

Aysha is actually my only friend and is very special and dear to me. For someone like me who depends on hard work and buries herself in books sixteen hours a day, finding a friend is very difficult; nobody likes to spend time with me. Not Aysha, though; she has stayed with me all these years and not just because she knew me from childhood but because she likes my company although our tastes and interests are entirely different.

Studying architecture at a renowned institution like AFL has always been a part of my dream, more like a rung in the ladder to my dreams. To Aysha it didn’t matter where she studied as long as she was with me.

“Tell me about it… I was soooo excited that I couldn’t shut my eyes for even a second last night,” she said, looking at me with baggy eyes, which proved the truth of her statement. “You know, if it weren’t for you, getting into AFL would never have been possible.”

“Oh, come on; it was your efforts that paid off,’ I said with a smile.

“Nope. It is because of you. You spent night after night tutoring me, making it possible,” Aysha said, linking her arms with mine. “If I had depended on my caliber, I would have got twelfth rank from the bottom of the list and not from the top. You know, since the day the results were announced, I ask mom to pinch me every morning, to check if I’m dreaming.”

I laughed as I looked at her.

“But when I saw your rank I was not at all shocked,” she continued. “I mean, you were born a genius. Getting first rank is not a big thing for you. You always come first. In fact, I would have been surprised if you hadn’t got first place in this scholarship exam.”

“I’m not a genius, Aysha. This is the result of hard work, hard work and more hard work,” I said, smiling.

“Well, you can say whatever you want, but I still say you are a genius and I want to treat my genius friend to the black currant ice cream she loves so much,” she said as her eyes fell on an ice-cream cart standing a few meters from us. Before I could say anything, she ran off, telling me to wait.

She will never change. I smiled to myself.

As I waited for Aysha, I watched the road. There were hardly any vehicles around.

It is too early for traffic.

Just then, I saw a guy with a racket in his hand and a cell phone to his ear, crossing the road a few meters away from me. To my shock a truck was headed towards him and the truck did not sound its horn. I shouted, telling him to step back but he did not seem to hear my voice. He walked slowly, engrossed in his conversation, his gaze on the other side of the road. I ran towards him as the truck neared, still without sounding the horn. I increased my speed although I seemed to have reached my limit and just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it, I reached him and pulled him towards the footpath just before the truck could hit him.

I held my chest, gasping for breath. After a few deep inhales, I raised my head to give the guy a piece of my mind. As my eyes fell on him, my words drained away. I stared at him blankly, stunned by his looks. He was tall and had a very attractive face with a neat jawline. His skin was fair and flawless. He was wearing a dark red sleeveless pullover that accentuated his long neck and complimented his smooth, fair skin. He looked at me, scanning my face with his dark eyes as his straight, hazelnut-colored hair fluttered over his eyes with the wind. Suddenly, his gaze fixed coldly on my eyes.

“Haven’t you seen a guy before?” he said in a dry, arrogant voice.

I was taken aback by his rudeness.

“I just… I just saved your life,” I stammered out, embarrassed to be caught staring at him.

“I never asked you to,” he said. “And how dare you touch me?” he shouted, jerking his arm from my clutch.

Anger boiled in me and I was about to retort when Aysha came running up to us.

“What happened?” she cried, sounding tense. The guy turned away, without even casting a glance at her.

“I just saved this brat’s life and he is…,” I began.

“Whom did you call a ‘brat’?” he shouted, cutting in and glaring at me.

“Hey, I know you,” Aysha jumped in. “You are Aryan Roy. God! I just can’t believe my eyes. I am Aysha. Please forgive my friend’s rudeness. Her general knowledge is reallyyy weak. I apologize in her stead,” she said, slightly bowing her head in an apologetic way. Leaning towards me, she mumbled, “He is the son of Mr. Neelesh Roy, one of the top businessmen in India. This is why I tell you to read gossip magazines once in a while. They are filled with knowledge, you know.”

I gave her an angry look and turned to the guy, “I don’t care who you are…,” I started but realized that his eyes were fixed on Aysha; he was not paying any attention to me. Anger rose within me, when I saw him ignoring me. I gave him one final glance and stormed off.

“Wait up, Trisha,” Aysha called from behind. “Trisha,” she said, catching up with me. “It is not good to mess with people with power. What if he holds a grudge against you or something?”

“Did you see how he behaved? I saved his life for God’s sake,” I cried in anger, unable to contain myself.

“I know,” she said, “I saw.”

“How can someone be so arrogant towards the person who saved his life?”

“Let it go. Don’t spoil your mood over such things. It is our first day at college; let us talk about it,” she said, trying to cheer me up.

I did not respond. My anger hadn’t dissolved yet. I just couldn’t let go of it.

“Don’t worry, I will ditch him for treating you that way,” Aysha said.

I looked at her with questioning eyes.

“Didn’t you see his expression when he saw me?” Aysha explained, with a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure it’s love at first sight,” she continued, pretending to be serious, “just see, he will propose to me within a week and when he does, I will reject him, taking revenge on your behalf.”

I burst out laughing. Aysha smiled as she saw my mood change.

“Speaking of which,” she gave me a naughty smile, “weren’t you checking him out?” she said taking me by surprise. “I saw you. You were totally checking himmmm…,” she mumbled as I muffled her mouth with my hand and turned around to check if anyone had heard her. When I saw no one, I signaled to her to keep her mouth shut and when she nodded, I let go of her.

I then spoke in a low voice, cautiously glancing around, “I didn’t mean to. I was just taken aback.” A tinge of shyness heated the tips of my ears.

Aysha looked at me and burst out laughing.

“Shut up,” I said, pushing her with my elbow.

She kept laughing until we reached the gate, stopping when the guard threw her an annoying look as he requested our admission letter and ID proof. We took it out of our bags and handed it to him. He checked it thoroughly, asking questions as he did. When he was satisfied with the authenticity of our documents, he let us enter.

As we set foot in the AFL campus, we were stunned by its beauty. The campus was breathtaking. It had gigantic buildings with well-maintained lawns and gardens. It almost felt like stepping into a foreign country.

We went through the campus map that was on the board next to the gate, and it increased our excitement tenfold. It had everything: baseball courts, cricket grounds, basketball courts, squash courts, tennis courts, badminton courts, stadiums, skating rinks, an indoor ice skating stadium, a golf course, swimming pools and more. There wasn’t a single thing I could think of that was absent.

And as we walked, we were even more amazed by the marvelous building and the clean campus. There was greenery everywhere. Mini forests separated blocks from one another. The sight was just breathtaking.

“I guess, even five years of architecture will not be enough to enjoy this beauty,” Aysha said.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I replied, awed.

Before we ended up completely engulfed by the beauty of everything, we decided to go to the college office to complete admission formalities so that we could explore the campus without worry.

We checked the floor map and found that the admission office was on the first floor of the administrative block.

“It would have been nice if one of our parents could have come along for the admission formalities,” Aysha said as we stepped into an elevator.

“Hmm… but your dad is out of station and my mom’s leave was cancelled at the last moment,” I replied.

“And my mom isn’t good with these things,” Aysha said pressing the button for the first floor.

It wasn’t difficult to find the admission office, since there were boards displayed for every department.

As we stepped into the office, we saw that it was arranged neatly into cubicles, which were occupied with busy people engrossed in their work.

Aysha and I glanced around blankly. We had no clue about whom to approach. All we had received by mail was a confirmation letter saying that further admission would be done by the admission department on the day of joining. We were only requested to bring the confirmation letter along with our ID proof and Grade XII marksheet.

“There’s the help desk,” Aysha said with relief, pointing to her right.

As we approached, the lady at the desk slowly raised her head from a file she was working on.

“Yes, ma’am. How may I help you?” she said in a soft, polite voice with a smile on her lips. She was wearing a light blue saree with soft prints of a slightly darker shade of blue and a navy-blue border. She had a black name tag pinned onto the saree, which showed her name and designation in gold letters.

“We are here for admission,” replied Aysha in a hesitant voice.

“All admission-related work is done at that counter,” the lady replied, pointing to a counter near the office entrance.

We thanked her, reciprocating her smile, and walked to the admission counter. As we walked, we noticed that all the women in the office wore similar blue sarees while the men wore a light blue shirt with black pants and a navy-blue tie. It was their uniform.

At the admission counter, a well-built, middle-aged man greeted us with a beaming face and asked how he could be of assistance. We told him that we wanted to enroll. He asked for our confirmation letters, marksheets and our ID proof. We handed these over like obedient students. He went through these and after confirming the information, clicked our photos with his webcam and scanned our fingerprints. He then asked us to wait while he prepared college IDs and completed other formalities. We nodded with a smile.

After a few minutes, he returned all our documents along with a college brochure, campus map, course curriculum and our crisp new AFL ID card, made of plastic and the size of an ATM card. Our freshly taken photo was printed at the top of the card and beneath it was our student number and a barcode. He also briefed us on the importance of the card, which he said we should bring to the college every day, since we would need to swipe it at the entrance gate every time we entered the college.

We thanked him and left the office, flashing our new college IDs at each other and beaming as we stepped out of the administrative building.

By then, it was almost time for our first class and we had to drop our plan of exploring the college campus. We hurried to our class while checking our course curriculum, where subjects and classes allotted for those subjects were detailed.

“Wow, the classroom is so big,” Aysha noted, as we entered the classroom.

It was a huge classroom, brightly lit by LED lights on the ceiling. At the front of the classroom was a vast wooden dais and on it was placed a glass podium. On the wall behind the podium was a large projector screen facing the pitched floor, on which semi-circular desks were arranged parallel to one another, each running from one corner to the middle and then again from the middle to the other end of the classroom leaving a path in between to move from the front to the rear of the classroom.

“And it is air-conditioned too,” continued Aysha.

I checked for empty seats and fortunately, the ones at the front were empty. “Those seats are empty,” I said, pointing at the front rows.

“Front seat? Not again,” moaned Aysha.

“Front seats are the best. It helps us to pay undivided attention to the lecturers. Also, all the back seats are taken,” I said with a smile.

With a sad, downward turn of her lips, she took the first bench next to me. The classes started with a short self-introduction. As soon as that was over, lectures began in full swing, with not even a minute wasted.

“I did not think classes would be taken so seriously here. I mean, most of the students here are rich. Why would they want to study seriously when their parents have accumulated enough money to last for generations?” Aysha complained as we searched for the canteen for lunch, after finishing the hectic first half of our first day at AFL.

“Everyone needs an education, Aysha,’ I said, craning to try and find a canteen.

“We can never find it like this. Even with the campus map, it is difficult,” Aysha moaned.

“Looks like we are lost. And there are still afternoon classes to attend,” I said. Suddenly, we spotted three girls at the corner of the road.

“Excuse me,” Aysha called out to the girls, running up to them, and I increased my pace trying to catch up with her.

The girls turned to her simultaneously.

“Can you please tell us the direction to the canteen?” Aysha asked them, looking from one to the other.

They looked at her with cold eyes, gazing at her from top to bottom, and then turned around as if they couldn’t see anyone and started giggling.

“I hate rich girls,” Aysha said, with a scorching look at the girls.

“Let’s find it ourselves,” I said, trying to cheer her up.

“Are you girls new here?” a guy’s voice came from behind us.

Aysha and I turned together to find ourselves in front of yet another boy with stunning looks. He was tall and fair skinned. His thick black hair was neatly combed, giving him a studious look, which was enhanced by the rimless glasses that adorned his deep, black eyes. His dressing style was cool, yet sophisticated.

He had a soft smile on his face as we turned, which reminded me of the arrogant boy from the morning.

Although the two are gifted with heavenly looks, their nature and aura are entirely different from each other, I thought.

As he spoke, the three girls who had just ignored us, ran up to us or to be precise ran up to the guy who stood in front of us.

“Hi Rohan,” they said in a chorus. The guy didn’t even cast a glance at them, which made Aysha and me very happy.

Tit for tat.

“I heard that you were looking for the canteen. I’m heading there too. You two can come with me,” he said, keeping his eyes on Aysha and me.

“Thank you,” Aysha said, beaming at Rohan. She then turned to the girls and threw them a sardonic gaze.

“We are heading to the canteen too,” said one of the girls, faking a smile to suppress her wounded ego.

“Then, I think, you should get going,” said Rohan tossing them a dry look.