Convocation

A day to remember and to forget!

The day was July 19th 2008. A day I had been anxiously been waiting for. A day that I wished would be etched in my memory for the rest of my life. I turned out to be just that but for reasons not entirely pleasant.

I had a bad start for the day and my perennial habit of waking up late struck yet again and it never hurt like it did on that day. (And this too after persistent tries from my mother to some how wake me up) Squinting my right eye to see what the time was, from my mobile phone, was enough to send a sliver of shock down my spine. The display showed 9.20 am. I sat up as if I was a told to do so by some external force. My mind suddenly turned hazy apparently in jolt that I had received from waking up late. Thankfully having faced these situations before came in handy and I planned, or should I say played, out my moves in mind. Take a quick bath, skip breakfast and beg my father to drop me in a Pal Pannai (a bus stop on the way to college instead of going to the main bus stand.)

The 1st task was easy primarily due to the fact that I never stayed in a bathroom for more than 5 minutes max. There was a moment of humour in the bathroom when my thoughts drifted back to the day before. I had planned to attend driving classes and even visit the hair dresser before proceeding to the convocation ceremony. The 2nd one seemed the right thing to do in a crunch situation and my usually rumbling stomach didn’t complain much for being refused its daily kick start fuel.

The 3rd task was usually the toughest thing to do but given the gravity of the situation my dad gracefully agreed and off I was to Pal Pannai. The ride was a rather bumpy one but I wasn’t complaining one bit because this was the best shot I had to meeting the 12 pm deadline for registration. The Thanjavur destined bus didn’t take too long to come and I scrambled up the foot board in an attempt to secure a seat and found my efforts were probably unwarranted as the bus was eerily empty. It was a Saturday alright and the absence of the working passengers could be excused but where were my fellow graduands. Only then did it strike me that I was not just late but extraordinarily delayed.

Repulsive thoughts coursed through my mind…how some of my seniors were refused to entry to the ceremony hall simply because they didn’t meet the deadline for registration and consequent verbal duel between the wards’ parents and the college administration, how sad my parents will be realizing that I couldn’t graduate not because of not being able to clear my papers but rather due to the fact that I didn’t have the enough discipline to wake up early on the day that mattered the most.

Thankfully those thoughts came crashing down when a couple of equally charged fellow graduands boarded the bus. The most logical thing to do then was to initiate a conversation with them and I did just that. Minutes into our chat, we managed to reach a decent level of comfort and I figured that was probably because we were finding ourselves in the same dire circumstances. SMSs screamed from our mobiles to our respective friends regarding the status of the registration process and contents of the reply SMSs were duly shared.
It was 11.45 am when the bus halted just in front of my college entrance and I sprinted to the registration venue, which was almost 400m away from the spot, like there was no tomorrow. I halted only to hand over my belongings to my friends who were waiting en route.11.55am was the exact time when I had step foot into the registration room. A mere 5 minutes had separated me from being allowed to participate in the gradation ceremony and from my worst fears. The registration did go off smoothly and I came out of the room as if I had achieved something significant in my life.

From then to 4 pm (the time the ceremony was scheduled to begin) was used to catch up with old times, recount experiences of extreme boredom and to put the Digi-Cam of ours to some good work. It wasn’t long before the clock struck 4 and the much clichéd phrase ‘time flies when you are having fun’ suddenly made so much sense. We were made to form rows of four so that we could be led into the ceremony location by none other than our vice chancellor and this was when my second round of misery began.

There was a distinct distinction between the other graduands and me. I didn’t have the compulsory yellow gown that every one else seemed to be sporting. By the time I had registered, the gowns had run out and I was told that if there were any extras then they would be provided to me. I had to beg borrow or steal a gown some how before I would be allowed to get onto the stage and receive my degree. My pursuit of a gown did turn out to be harder than I had anticipated. None of my friends were willing to lend me their gown, even after my relentless pestering. A slew of suggestions came in from all corners and one of them did sound enticing enough to try out. Since the degrees were awarded department wise, my other department friends could afford to lend me their gowns. As if by default, I messaged Balaji (my all weather friend) and he generously consented. I heaved a sigh of relief as yet another hurdle was crossed.

The ceremony began on a rather hostile note with organisers persuading parents, who had occupied the seats that were reserved for the graduands, to move out of their seats which effectively meant that the parents had to exit the hall as there was not even an inch of space left inside. The emcee only made matters worse by giving a rather boring elucidation our journey for the past four years, the obstacles we had to overcome and sacrifices we had to make. Frankly not even a soul was listening, even for courtesy sake. But this didn’t seem to even bother the emcee a wee bit and she carried on as if she was on a narrative crusade.

Our department’s turn came after an excruciating 2 hour wait. I was all geared up with the newly received gown and there was a general excitement that pervaded among my clique. My heart skipped a few beats when some degree folders got mixed up placing some of my friends were in a spot of bother and thereby energising my ever pessimistic mind; what if the same happened to me, how would I react, what should I do.

Ramanathan Palaniappan was the call from the micro phone and it was loud enough to bring me back to reality. Pacing a few steps to where the vice chancellor was standing, I extended my hand to him and in stead of a handshake I got a degree folder. I had heard that the vice chancellor was a tireless man and that statement made a lot of sense then as even after a 1000 hand over’s, this man didn’t seem to be objecting at all. I winked to my parents, who were gleefully watching the events unfold from the visitor’s area, as sign of victory or may be even for reaching closure.

A still shot frenzy ensued and we scuttled to get every possible millimetre of space to capture the essence of the ceremony. I had a few shots taken of me and parents. But if u thought it was all over, then u couldn’t be more wrong. I still had to report back to the same place I had registered to receive the refund for not being provided the gown. It was only when I reached the designated room that I realized the enormity of the task. At least 50 people were milling around the refund counter and a hundred more were waiting for their turn. Jostling, pushing, shoving and every other possible related verb was carried out to outmanoeuvre the rest and receive the refund at the earliest. It took nearly a good 30 minutes for me to get back my money and by then I was completely drenched in my own sweat and the life squeezed out of me.

After a couple of drinks to reinvigorate my tired body I boarded the bus back home in the company of Ramanathan, another good friend of mine. Overall the ceremony was one that I would relish for many years to come.