The first look…
She saw him walk down the road leading to the college building from the hostel. A first year medical student herself, she stood there sipping her hot tea, watching the guy walk by past her.
Oh god! What a face!! Totally bored, disinterested, unshaven face, tall, moderately physiqued, and shabbily dressed, chronic patient looking guy walking towards the main building.
She wondered, still sipping her tea, why do such people even attempt to take up medicine?!! This guy for sure must have been pressurised by his parents to become a doctor or an engineer as was the norm these days and he having no say, must have meekly agreed and here he was, making an extremely so called difficult trekking trip to the colleges second floor.
She glanced at her watch, yelped and ran towards the building for she did not want to be late for her classes, more importantly to catch hold of the last but four benches.
It was a routine sight to watch students rush past everyone, like a 100 metre race and make a dash into the classroom much to the amusement of the professor, who would be standing and watching them enter the classroom, thinking what a lively studious lot!! Sooo very interested in studies, when actually it was the opposite!! Students running in to capture the middle benches, cause that way they would not be asked to come down and be seated in the front row, which were always empty, (save, for one or two seats being occupied by the Einstein’s of the class, doing a E=MC squares even during recess) and in turn be bored to death or would not be caught falling asleep during the hour long lecture.
She ran past the.. (Lets call him the Chronic Patient dude!! ) So, she ran past the CP dude, who was still making an effort and contemplating on whether or not to attend the class.
Her friends had already reserved a place for her in the middle row. She happily hi-fived them and sat down asking them the topic for the day.
The class started and five minutes later, a drowsy, extremely bored voice broke the monotonous drawl of the professor, “Sir may I come in??” The professor turned towards the door and so did the entire class and there stood our CP dude, with ruffled hair, stubbled bored face, shirt Half-tucked in, hands in pockets, chewing on a gum stylishly (which even a cow would feel outrunned to while chewing cud), with a black back pack ( hanging half way behind him, as if it was hanging off a cliff and crying for help).
He jus walked into the class, completely oblivious to the interruption he had just caused, or to the action potential class which the professor of physiology was so painstakingly explaining and that’s when the hatred started.
She wondered.. Ughhh !! Why do such people even take up medicine??!! How would such a guy become a doctor and save human lives or mend a broken wrist or suture a wound or do a lumbar puncture( without it ending up in a spinal cord herniation ) or understand the complexities of a women in labour( let alone deliver a baby).
A loud yawn brought her back to her senses only to realise our chronic patient was seated right behind her where his friends had reserved a place for him. She seethed in anger and suddenly she realised, why was she over reacting?? Even she wasn’t any exception, she was sure half or more than half the people in her class room did not want to be there, let alone survive an hour long class, on mechanisms of electrical potentials in the human body. She let out a biguhhh sigh and stopped her wandering mind from over-analysing stuff and tried to concentrate on the poor professors teachings, amidst constant loud yawns playing in the background by, you-know-who, and suppressing her giggles every time she heard one.
A very much of a first look she had that day, completely unaware of more such looks coming up in the next few years.
**A series of events to follow…;-)
