Amidst the swarm walked Nidhi and Ruhi - two forgettable characters all of 5 feet and 6 inches. Actually Nidhi was a tad taller yet people often confused their names. Forgettable since they were neither stunningly beautiful nor exceedingly quirky. One of the two criteria was a serious requirement if one wanted to get noticed in college – an ambition that neither of them harboured. They were content just being their normal selves. The two of them were amongst 8 others who occupied the last two benches on the extreme left of the large classroom. Farthest from the professor and closest to the window from where one could peek at the senior year classrooms. Nidhi would often sit facing the window…sketching. The gothic architecture of those buildings looked good even when captured on paper by an amateur artist. Ruhi, sitting beside her would steal a glance out of the window when the professor turned her back – to catch a glimpse of the senior year boys walking in and out of their classrooms. It was a rule – each day two of eight girls took upon themselves the task of jotting down lecture notes leaving the rest to doodle, play naughts and crosses and of course enjoy the view from the window. All this meant that the xerox wallahs at kalbadevi were a happy lot.
Though Nidhi and Ruhi had known each other for less than a year, people often mistook them to be childhood friends if not dizygotic twins. Its was not enough that they were always found hanging around together, thanks to the common first alphabet in their last names - their roll numbers followed one another too - 156 and 157. What was unbelievable was that they often ended up getting the same marks on tests although Nidhi’s handwriting was perfect – small, circular and evenly spaced. Though Ruhi's resembled what would appear on paper if baby rats ran across the page and left their droppings all over. At least that should have accounted for some difference in the way the professor evaluated their answer sheets. The professor always asked before handing over their exam sheets to them...'did you two copy again' - they would bother utter 'no maam' while at the same time looking at each other in shock.
Outside of the arches and foyers that symbolized life at St. Xavier's College, the world that Nidhi and Ruhi belonged to, sat at two ends on the continuum of bi-polar opposites. If one peaked into life from Nidhi's end of the continuum one would find a suburban, lower middle class Hindu home, a mother who worked at a government office to afford education for her children. Pocket allowance of 75 rupees a week, 50 of which were spent on bus fare alone leaving the rest for an occasional cup of coffee at the canteen or a rarer splurge on unbranded clothes at fashion street. On the other hand Ruhi's world comprised a large Muslim family of 6 & their 2 servants - housed in an even larger house which stood on one of the most expensive pieces of real estate that
Like most others, they would walk the distance from the college gate to the traffic crossing together where they would split and continue their journey back to their divergent lives. Ruhi would look for a bus / cab outside Metro Cinema while Nidhi made her way to Marine Lines station passing by Irani coffee houses atop which stood old wooden buildings waiting to crumble.
On some days Ruhi would impulsively ask Nidhi to join her and Nidhi would agree. Waiting at the bus-stop they'd chat endlessly about the respective men in their lives - a senior year boy that Nidhi liked and Ruhi's childhood crush. The conversations about ‘will he - wont he’ would be interrupted by the regular arrivals of the dusty red BEST buses. You know I am meeting him at a family dinner this...Come, come, come that’s our bus. Ruhi was perhaps one of those few people who could say two completely unconnected things in the same breath. Once inside, on the cue of the tick tick sound made by the ticket conductor's instrument, Ruhi would open her wallet while trying to hold on to Nidhi to keep her balance and give a handful of coins to the conductor - too lazy to count the exact amount needed. Ek churchgate...ek mantralaya she said and continuing her conversation about her dinner that evening while the conductor gave them disgruntled looks and handed over their tickets and the remaining change. Sometimes they'd add up the digits on the serial number of the bus tickets till they arrived at a 2 digit number - which would then be checked for which alphabet it stood for...'S' who do i know whose name starts with 'S' who is thinking of me? At other times they'd indulge in mindless giggle as the bus took sharp turns near Flora Fountain and Churchgate with the two trying to balance themselves. That short, less than 5 minute, bus journey meant some more happy times together and that Nidhi did not have to walk in the scorching afternoon sun to the railway station. Even that extra bus ride costing 1.50 paise was a luxury considering her meagre pocket money. In the two years that they spent together in college Ruhi treated Nidhi to many more. Bus rides, movie tickets, pizza and unlimited cups of Nescafe from the dispenser at the canteen. For every 25 or so cups of coffee Ruhi bought for the both of them, Nidhi would buy two and sometimes when Ruhi was short of money she'd ask Nidhi for a buck or ten. But no one kept accounts and there was never a sense of discomfort about this. Not the first time Ruhi said 'ek churchgate - ek mantralaya' and not today…15 years hence.
