I would like to state without any reservations that I used to be one of the bad boys of Aitchison College, but I would be lying. The anonymity a blog offers should allow me such stretches of my elastic imagination but Allah ko jaan deni hai, therefore, I will try to stay on the straight and the narrow. Some of you may have gotten confused by the sentences above, therefore, I shall state it explicitly: (in words redolent of Bulleh Shah) I was neither from the bad boys nor was I from amongst the nerds, somewhat in an ambivalent position, and am to this day feeling the psychological complications that arise from the lack of a definitive identity marker.
In any case, as I hinted in the first post, I am more concerned about telling the stories, or rather exaggerating the stories, of the nonconformists; here is the first of such stories.
The details are sketchy because the idiot has disappeared on me and I cannot confirm everything I say, but I promise I will correct any errors I make, later.
He was known in our batch as charsi, I am sure not because of his consumption of the substance (to the best of my knowledge he never touched it), but on account of his slow movements – this was as true a name as any, because he truly was slow. I first met him in E1 (Back in the day our class was in the old building. Just so you know how long of a mental jog this is). IN any case while we would be studying, doing homework and getting good marks, our friend would be reading khateen digest; now most of you have never even come across this abomination, but I have tried to connect with this chap by going through some issues: suffice to say, I never knew this effeminate side of charsi. As a result of this extra curricular habit he used to get, ahem, disciplined by our teachers, in almost every class. One would think that with such an attitude towards studies, his attitude towards sports at Aitchison would be more inspiring, but I am afraid he was a disappointment on that end too. He liked cricket thought and regularly played with us in breaks but his attitude was just as, if not more, laidback. For instance, I remember the trials for the colts cricket team, when it was his time to bat, he decided, against are earnest remonstrations, to go in without a box (private parts guard) – only to return, running in very unchursilike speed, in considerable pain and crashing into the nearest mens room (I am sorry bro .. I could not not mention this .. had to spice up the narrative).
In all respects he was not your typical Aitchisonian, he did not care for authority nor did he care for status amongst his fellow students through the established symbols.
A few years into senior school his father decided to put as much distance, between himself and the embarrassment of parent teacher meetings in college, as possible – he was plained off to the US.
When I met him years later, I was struck by the intelligence of this individual. He had graduated from University, while at the same time had established a flourishing business. He had self taught himself, much of what Aitchison should have taught us; he had developed a taste for reading, and could comfortably talk about current affairs, history, literature, psychology or popular culture.
Considering I have written about him before anyone else, should be enough to convince you that at least I consider him the finest product of Aitchison College!