Love Bytes: Typing my way to rejection

Love bites…err love bytes! I had always heard that college years were a time to savor, a brief window of carefree living before the heavy weight of adult responsibilities set in. After spending most of my life tethered to a study chair, it was finally time to make up for lost chances. But where to begin?

First Things First: The Quest for Love

“Girlfriend! You’ve never had one. It’s time,” my inner voice nudged me, prompting me to embark on a quest for romance, which led me straight to Sneha.

Sneha, a fellow pharmacy student, was a Tamilian raised in Mumbai, hailing from a family of scholars. We hit it off quickly, becoming good friends. She was the one I had my sights set on from the start. She was going to be my girlfriend, I decided, just waiting for the right moment to confess. A month later, that moment arrived. But what I lacked was the courage to say it outright. So, I devised a plan.

The Love Letter

One night, filled with romantic fervor, I sat down with a sheet of A4 paper to pour out my heart. By the time I finished, I had filled five whole pages. Talk about elaborate!

Yet, the courage to hand her the letter in person eluded me. So, I devised another plan.

“Email! I’m a computer engineer, after all!” I declared to myself.

There was just one problem. I had never touched a computer keyboard before college, so typing such a lengthy letter was a mammoth task.

“Gaurav! Yes, he will be my savior!” I thought, feeling a glimmer of hope light up within me.

The Typing Hero

Gaurav, my batchmate from Gujarat, epitomized the classic nerd stereotype. He had effortlessly secured admission into the core CS program with a perfect 100 percentile. Short and stout, he sported thick, nearly bulletproof eyeglasses and meticulously combed his hair flat. His hair was slicked back with what seemed like gallons of oil, giving it a shine that could rival a mirror. I had seen his lightning-fast typing skills on the computer before; his fingers danced across the keyboard like Usain Bolt on the track. He had once confided in me that his incredible speed was thanks to a typewriting course he took in school. Today, that remarkable skill was going to be my lifeline.

It was already 2 am when I finished drafting the letter, but my excitement was too overwhelming to wait until morning. So, I marched up to Gaurav’s room and knocked on his door.

“Oye, Gujju, wake up!” I called out loudly, using the nickname we all affectionately gave Gaurav because he hailed from Gujarat. Gaurav used to sleep with cotton balls in his ears, so I didn’t expect him to wake up at the first knock. I knocked a few more times, each one harder than the last.

“Oye, wake up, you bull! I need you!” I shouted again.

After a few minutes, he opened the door, still rubbing his eyes and now sporting his bulletproof eyeglasses. Without those glasses, I was convinced he would be declared technically blind.

“What the heck! Seniors don’t let me sleep, ragging me all day long, and now I have to deal with my batchmates. Life sucks! I was happy back in Gujarat!” he grumbled, visibly annoyed.

“Come on, man. A friend in need is a friend indeed!” I grinned, handing him my love letter draft. He glanced at it, read a few lines, and his eyes lit up. Sleep was clearly a thing of the past for him.

“Sneha… the pharmacy girl?” he asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Mm-hmm,” I confirmed, grinning back.

“So, you want me to deliver this letter to her for you?” he inquired.

“Hell no! That’s old-school stuff, man! We’re computer engineers; we use email!” I declared proudly, instilling a sense of pride in him at that moment.

“Type it! It would take me a week to type all this. I’ve seen you type like a superhero! So, let’s head to the computer center and send it to her together!” I continued, bubbling with excitement.

He paused briefly, perhaps contemplating whether to accompany me, but the pride of being a computer engineer was on the line. “Okay. But when did this happen?” he queried as he slipped on his t-shirt.

“I’ll fill you in later. For now, let’s move. I can’t wait to send it to her,” I urged, pulling him along towards the computer center.

sending the email

As we entered the computer center, there were just a few more souls around. It felt like stumbling upon a gathering of nocturnal creatures, each with their own nocturnal mission, be it avoiding the wrath of seniors or seeking solace from the impending doom of late-night hazing.

Finding a secluded corner, Gaurav wasted no time in typing out the letter. Remarkably, he finished typing the entire letter within 45 minutes. And let me tell you, it wasn’t just a plain old email; it was a work of art, complete with an “I Love You” word art that would make even the most seasoned graphic designers break into applause. In those primitive days of basic telnet email on a Unix system, it was like witnessing the birth of a technological legend. Boy, was I impressed!

With the email sent and our mission accomplished, we returned to our rooms, our chests puffed out with pride. I drifted off to sleep with the thought that the love of my life would come to me the next morning, wrap her arms around me, and confess her love. Tomorrow was destined to be the day when I would finally shed the ugly tag of being single.

The unexpected rejection

Lo and behold, I was indeed woken up by a gate call the next morning!

“There you go! Victory!” I exclaimed, my face lighting up like a thousand-watt bulb. I quickly threw on a t-shirt and ran into the bathroom to get ready. Moments later, I was out the door, my face flushed with a blush and shyness dripping all over the place. 

“I’d like to talk to you,” she said, gesturing towards the road for a stroll.

We began our walk towards the temple on the campus, her favorite spot for solitude and spiritual contemplation.

“Aha! She wants to express her feelings privately!” I thought, giddy with anticipation.

Once we reached the temple, we settled on the grass, and she fixed her gaze on me, delivering a bombshell: “Look, I like you. In fact, I like you very much, but as a friend. This is just not possible, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend!” She said as she tied a speck of grass on my thumb.

She had just dropped an atom bomb far fatter than the “Fat Man” over Nagasaki.

“What the heck just happened? What went wrong?” I was confused, and all my excitement evaporated.

“My parents won’t approve. I will only fall in love with the man I marry,” she continued, dropping the ultimate parental veto bomb. I was destroyed, reduced to a pile of emotional rubble, with no hope of rebuilding. We stared at each other, lost for words, as if caught in a sitcom without a laugh track. After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, we silently agreed to call it quits on the conversation. With heavy hearts, we bid goodbye and headed back to our respective hostels.

“She rejected me! How could she?” I felt like a dejected Romeo.

“That’s it. I’m never speaking to her again!” I vowed with the intensity of a soap opera melodrama.

From Rejection To Inhalation: My Devdas Moment

I was deeply wounded, and the blow couldn’t have come at a worse time. My academic performance was already taking hits from constant daydreaming about her and brainstorming ways to impress her, and her rejection just poured salt into the wound. My dream of achieving a perfect GPA of 10 crashed and burned, leaving me sad and sulking in the dark confines of my room.

“What can I do to lift my spirits? Life feels so unfair and bleak,” I pondered, enveloped in the surrounding gloom. Then, like a light bulb flickering above my head, I recalled the dramatic scenes from the movie Devdas and saw a potential escape. So, I approached one of my batchmates, Murali, known not only for his penchant for drinking but also for his dedicated chain smoking.

“Murali, my friend, I need a whiskey and a cigarette!” I implored, consumed by despair.

“But wait, I thought you didn’t drink or smoke. Is everything alright?” Murali looked genuinely puzzled by my sudden craving for vices.

“No, man. Nothing is alright. Life sucks. It’s filled with suffering. Gautam Buddha was right! I need a way out!” I lamented.

“And you think whiskey and a cigarette are the answer?” he asked sympathetically.

“I mean, that’s what they do in the movies, right? Isn’t that supposed to make me feel better?” I questioned

He chuckled and, without a word, produced the pack of cigarettes he typically kept hidden under his pillow.

“Well, my friend, I’m fresh out of whiskey tonight, but here… Take two of these bad boys and puff your sorrows away!” Murali declared, offering me the cigarettes. Eager to light one up, I took my first drag and immediately started coughing uncontrollably.

“How on earth do you smoke this thing?” I gasped in distress.

“Ah, rookies,” Murali sighed, shaking his head in amusement. “Let me show you how it’s done,” he said, taking a puff, exhaling the smoke, and guiding me through the fine art of inhaling without choking.

By the time we finished our first cigarette, I was well on my way to mastering the fine art of smoking. I returned to my room and practiced with the second cigarette he gave me. By the time I finished it, I was already blowing smoke rings! And thus began my long-standing affair with nicotine.

From Rejection to Redemption: The E&M Miracle

As if rejection wasn’t enough, I was also grappling with a subject that I feared would shatter my hopes of achieving a 10 GPA. The subject was Electricity and Magnetism, affectionately known as E&M. With only 29 out of 60 before the final comprehensive exams and a mid-semester grade of C, I was facing a showdown with the subject that threatened to ruin my perfect GPA dreams. I mean, who wouldn’t be terrified of seeing their grades plastered on a public notice board for all to see? It’s like having your failures broadcasted on a giant billboard!

So, I sought guidance from a senior who was a former 10-pointer. “C in the midterms? Ha! You’re lucky if you even get a B, buddy,” he said, crushing my hopes like a bug under a textbook. My heart sank, but I resolved to give it my best shot.

I pulled an all-nighter before the final exam, cramming every equation and formula into my brain like a squirrel stocking up for winter. The next morning, I sat for the exam, hoping for the best.

After the final exams concluded and just before everyone departed for the semester-end vacation, our instructor announced that he had released grades for E&M. As I made my way back from checking my grade, I bumped into a batchmate, also returning from the instructor’s chamber.

“What did you score, Macha?” he asked.

“39.5,” I replied.

His face lit up with a wide smile. “Me too!” he exclaimed, like he’d just discovered a long-lost twin.

“So, we’re both in the C club?” he queried, relief washing over his face.

“No, it’s an A. Most likely,” I responded confidently.

His eyebrows shot up like they were trying to escape his face. “How can it be an A with a total of 39.5? Isn’t an A supposed to be, like, 65 or something?”

“Oh, no. I mean 39.5 in the comprehensive exam. My total is 68.5.” I said.

His smile vanished upon hearing this.

“My grand score is 39, less than your score in the comprehensive exam alone! You’re a genius!”

In that moment, I felt guilty for unintentionally bursting his joy bubble of not being alone in the C grade club.

I had made a perfect 10! One of the few students to do so in the university, I transferred myself to the four-year Computer Science program. Who needed IITs now? With a huge academic weight lifted and newfound clarity in my academic path, I declared myself the king of leisure. Books? Classes? Never heard of them. From that point on, my new academic pursuit was aimless campus wandering with friends. I was ready to enjoy the rest of my college days like a carefree monarch, ruling over my kingdom of loafing with an iron fist… of fun.