It was with a crowded mind that I started off for my department on Monday, as I had to meet my professor, go to the library to get my ID card renewed and go to Pondy Bazar on some personal errand. The holiday season has rendered me so sluggish that I ought to appear on the book ‘Funny Animals, Funnier Habits – A Picture Book for Retarded Sloths.’ The cloudy weather acting more a bane than a boon, I pedaled to the library to get my ID card done as I feel rather unsafe without it. It symbolizes power and credibility, a concoction I have used to my advantage many a time.

Knowing 4 languages was as useful as having a wind-chime in the dungeons as the security guard let me in only after I banged the turnstile and pointed my finger into the world of books. I stampeded down to the smart card section down in the basement and announced my intentions of getting a renewed card to the bespectacled, Ethel-ish female behind the glass doors. With a voice cooler than the dungeons and a manner that reminds one of the innumerable clock-watchers with a chair perennially stuck to their posteriors, she grunted out that she was busy and asked me to come at 1600 hours. Enraged at the fact that she, a 27 yearish responsible female, was Orkutting, I lied to her that I had to board a train at 1300 hours and I wanted the card stat as my ID number was the recognizance number of my e-ticket. With a look that told me she was trying to digest the usage of the word recognizance, she clicked ‘post scrap’ and told me I’ll have to come back at 12. Mission half-accomplished, I legged it and proceeded to my department a bit euphoric.

After some lunch at the mess, I sat down to watch 2 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. After 2 hours of lovely interns, bossy residents, squeamish patients and drama given precedence over blood, I pedaled back to the library to retrieve my card at about 1400 hours. With my mind full of epoch-making matters such as how Derrick could have cheated on Meredith and how foolish Izzie would have to be to get so very involved with a patient, I on-the-doubled to the basement and echoed my want to Big Ethel. She looked up at me, and asked me ‘Is your train late?’ Wondering what the hell she was talking about when Derrick was performing such an intricate brain surgery, I let out ‘What train?’ She gave me the librarian’s look interspersed with a conductor’s when you give him a 100 rupee note for a Re. 2/- ticket and grunted ‘The train at 1, for which you needed the ID card??’ The scalpel fell to the floor, the monitors started beeping and amidst the confusion amongst the nurses, I gasped ‘Oh!!’ She recognized that look, gave me the beady eye and bellowed ‘Why did you tell me you had to board a train?’ With no ready answer and the patient’s heart rate dropping faster than gravity, I issued out an answer, which although incredulous, was damningly diplomatic of me ‘Chumma!!‘

Before she could clutch her heart, cry out for help and ask me to resuscitate her, I beat a hasty retreat, never to return to the place for one full year.