Malayali in London ~ Part-11

Chapter -3:

… College …

I grab my bag and head downstairs, mother already has breakfast ready, it’s just some grilled cheese again. I drink a cup of chai along with it. I have no clue what the dress code is, so I’m just playing it safe with an outfit that looks like the uniform at Hogwarts from Harry Potter. And man is it cold here, I can’t imagine having to survive out here without a scarf or jacket. William’s going to be dropping me off at college on his way to work. He’s been working there for a month now. William finishes eating his breakfast and puts on his white doctor’s coat. “Ready for your first day?” He asks, I reply, “A little nervous but ready.” William smiles at me and walks over to the door, signalling that it’s time to go. I get up, put on my jacket, grab my bag and follow him into the car. Father is assisting with an eighteen-hour surgery, he left early in the morning in an Uber, and he’ll be back late tonight. We’re pretty much used to that. His being a neurosurgeon means that he’ll be on long shifts since one surgery can take up to an entire day.

William slams the brakes in front of the college gates. I had been staring at nothing the whole fifteen minutes it took to get here. William rubs his thumb over my hand, “it’ll be fine,” he says as he snaps me out of it, “how can you be so sure?” I ask him, he smiles in return and says, “It’s one of those things that you … just know.” He plants a kiss on my forehead and I get out of the car. I wave him goodbye as he drives off to work.

I hesitate to climb the first step. I take a deep breath and let go, there’s no turning back now, you got this Akshi, I tell myself. And with that, I climb the first stair. I open the door and step inside to expose myself to all the noises you’d expect in a college halfway. Chattering, footsteps and announcements; all this noise is so overwhelming. Not that I have any social phobia like psychological disorders or anything, I just don’t like noise. Trust me, my father had me see a therapist a few years ago just to be sure. I can be social if I want to, there’s no problem with that. But my ‘social’ usually means being rude.

I close my eyes and take another deep breath. Just then, I heard a few girls walk by. They’re surrounding one that seems to be their leader. The leader runs into me, almost knocking me over. “Watch where you’re going, fresher,” she turns around and speaks. I straighten myself and say, “Actually you should watch where you’re going, it was you who ran into me.” I immediately don’t like the vibe this girl is throwing off. She flaunts her sandy hair, and crosses her arms, “Who are you to tell me, you Indian!” I want to roll my eyes, I’ve been here five minutes and the racism has already started, “I’d request you not to be racist, and just so you know I am proud of my race and it is not something you could mock me about. Consider it a request or a warning but back off before I cross limits.” She lets out an exasperated sigh, “Back off? In your dreams,” this time, I roll my eyes, I can’t help it she’s just being that annoying. “Well, if you won’t back off, then move ahead, I have no interest in talking to ghosts with sandy hair.” She gasps as if I just cursed at her, it makes me wonder what her reaction would be if I did. But if she sticks around any longer then I probably will find out anyway.

Just then a voice speaks out of the blue, “Charlotte, don’t bully the freshers.” It’s a professor, and on hearing this, that girl named Charlotte walks away. The professor then turns to me, “sorry about her, she’s a second year and doesn’t exactly have the best reputation when it comes to interacting with other students.” His voice sounds calm and he has these wrinkles on his face with a short grey beard, and his round glasses remind me of Harry Potter; he looks like a typical professor dressed in a sweater, shirt and pants. “I’m Professor Sterling, I teach linguistics. If she ever happens to trouble you again, contact me and I shall complain to the headmaster about her being racist, but mind that you must be secular for that too.” I nod and Professor Sterling walks away. He’s definitely going to be my favourite teacher here. I walk into my first class, Journalism. I take a seat and open my notebook. The professor comes in and begins teaching.