The results are out!

A colleague just walked by, and he had in his hand a sheaf of papers. When I saw him, he was smiling and rustling the papers at some person behind me, and his gesture was one of "Look, here it is!"

I suddenly froze, and a familiar, yet forgotten feeling crept over me. That was the same gesture that "Pyjama Tata" used to make when he brought the examination results to the department! That feeling of dread, of foreboding, of excitement, all mixed with the smell of suspense in the air!

The four years of engineering were just a blur of exams and results. We wrote eight exams and had to go through the ordeal of receiving the results eight times. Bangalore University was notorious for churning out unexpected results. You could be confident of having fared beautifully in an exam, but you could be certain that you have cleared it only after you had seen the results. So the results were much more than just a reflection of how you wrote your exam. It also told you how much luck had favoured you.

Little wonder then, that the results were awaited with so much anxiety. Even the battle-hardened veterans had to cope with increased pulse rates. Bangalore University was also very infamous for not being prompt with the results. The most common rumour in the campus was "I heard the results will be put up today!" This rumour could go on for two months, and yet we students would believe it every time!

On the day the results finally arrived, there would be a hush in the college. Urgent whispers could be heard. Someone would say that he saw Nagendra, the main office-guy, bring a huge folder and take it to the Administration building. On protests of "It could have been anything!", the informer would say, "No, no, Nagendra had a knowing look in his eyes". This bit of information would be repeated and reiterated until some guys went up to the admin building and nailed Nagendra and got him to confess that what he had brought were indeed the results and he had indeed gone to the University to get them. When this information reached the rest of the waiting populace, blood pressures would soar, barrels of water would be downed, and there would be a queue outside the toilets.

Even the seemingly unconcerned hostelites would get the message, tumble out of their beds, and come to the department, hair tousled, and eyes anxious. There The Wait would commence. Any office person coming towards the department from the direction of the Admin Department would be examined. Any person with a sheaf of papers in his hand would be scrutinized.

Many red herrings later, someone would think of Pyjama Tata. He was an ancient little man with no teeth, no cheeks, no hair, but with a jutting out jaw and an uncommonly loud voice. His role in the department was indefinite. His identifying feature was a loose, flapping pair of pyjamas. Nobody knew his name. Everybody called him Pyjama Tata.[Tata - Grandfather]. It was to him that we would finally go. He would cackle loudly and say, "I was just about to go to the Principal's office and get the results".

It would be half an hour more of drinking water and going to the loo until we saw Pyjama Tata's dirty white pyjamas flapping from far off. We would watch every step of his until he approached the department. It was then that he would smile and shake the papers at us and make that gesture of "here it is!". The excitement would reach a painful peak. As he climbed the stairs of the department, we would flock about him and beg to be shown "just one page". He would resolutely shake his head and take it straight to the Head Of Dept's office. We would watch the door of HOD's office for the next ten minutes, shifting our weights from one foot to another.

Finally, Pyjama Tata would appear from inside, pick up some board pins and with deliberate sluggishness, he would proceed to the notice board and start pinning up each page. That was one of the times I wished my name started with "A". He used to put it up alphabetically and all the As and the Bs would flock around and start calling out to each other. Then I would wait with my teeth gritted. D, J, L-M, N-P, R, and then S, finally! I would rush forward, only to be pushed and pulled, and someone would shove their elbow into my nose and I would hang on to somebody's plait for balance and then crane my neck and look at the board. And invariably, read the result of the person before or after me. My heart would plunge to my feet and my head would buzz and my vision would get blurred, and then suddenly, someone would be patting my shoulder and saying "Hey Shruthi, great results!".. and I would say, "What the..".. and would look at the board again in renewed hope, and this time read my own result. I would put out my finger and trace a straight line between my name and the new result, confirm it, and would come away from the board in whoops of joy.

I would quickly look at the faces of my friends, to verify that it went well for them. Coz if hadn't for even one, then my own success would seem insipid. Then after a series of palm-burning high-fives, we would run to the nearest phone booth to call our parents[It was the era when only a privileged few owned cells]. After that, it was time for celebration, until it was time for the next results!

By the time we reached the final year, Bangalore University had become very tech-savvy, and the results of the final two semesters were put up online. This was anxiety of a different sort. Sitting up at midnight and refreshing the web page repeatedly until we read the golden words "Results announced for 7th sem - Click here". But nope, nothing compared to the collective tension of the mass of perspiring students, waiting for the bits of paper that contained their "passports to a good life".

It seems so funny now, to think back on it. I can hardly remember the marks I scored or the percentage I got in any of those semesters. Yet, at that time, it seemed to us like a matter of life and death! :D