Our first day at college, my buddy Rajiv Mishra and I (Arun Pattanayak) walked into the class with dreams for our future. Dreams differ from person to person and so did ours. Paint, brush and the canvas held my dreams while my friend has his dreams built around the unpalatable English literature class that was about to begin in a few seconds. I wanted to be a visual artist while he wanted to be a writer.

Rajiv and I were friends since we were twelve years old. We were those typical forever-together kinds of friends that one would have often seen in ones proximate circle. That was actually Rajiv’s perspective, not mine. However, my father was a die-hard fan of Rajiv. He would coerce me to do whatever Rajiv did; my wishes didn’t quite matter to him. He would ensure that I tagged on to Rajiv and go wherever he went and do whatever he did. That had been the most annoying factor in my life for the past six years. In fact, my joining the literature program was one such thing.

Rajiv had been a wordplay freak ever since we joined high school. He used to get on my nerves by suggesting some awkward wordplay and inquire whether it sounded good. I was often reduced to being his testing machine. Once I would approve of the word, he would disclose it to our class and be applauded. He was an attention freak. May be that is why he joined the literature program. But what was I doing here? I hated language classes. Those turn-off adjectives and weary verbs often appeared to be so repulsive to me. I felt like I was in a place full of people who wanted to spend their entire life searching for the meaning of ‘dictionary’ in a dictionary. Unfortunately I did not have any other option as I was not one of those top-scoring students who could choose whichever career option they wanted; I was just an  ‘I agree’ check box for my dad’s terms and conditions. I had only one option for my career and my dad chose it for me.

I was looking at all my classmates. How I hated that term’. I realized that all the twentyeight classmates present in the class, excluding me, were of the same breed. Most of them had huge spectacles adorning their faces. They appeared so discreete to me but, the fact was that it was me who  felt like a moron sitting in the middle of these brilliant group which irritated me further. The only thing that appealed to me was that the class had an equal ratio of boys and girls and a few of them were good-looking. In spite of that, what worried me the most was the feeling that ‘I am in a place where I am not meant to be’.

Just then our class teacher entered the classroom with loud stomping. All of us stood partly out of respect and partly due to the fear of his presence and wished him “Good morning”.

Meanwhile, Rajiv who stood beside me said “Good morning, Mr.Suresh Chopra”. I turned towards him in surprise, so did everyone else in the class. I wondered how he knew the teacher’s name. This was our first day in college. Rajiv was with me since we brushed our teeth early that morning. Everyone stared at Mr.Genius with their mouths open and mine wider than anyone else. Rajiv turned to me and muttered into my ears, “I got a glimpse of his identity card” and smirked. I was irritated.

Our teacher glared at Rajiv for a minute and said in a stern voice “It’s Sumesh! Sumesh Chopra!” The entire class broke out into peals of laughter once they realized that Rajiv had made a fool of himself. I tried my best to control my laughter but failed miserably. Rajiv felt very embarrassed and sat down slowly in silence. Even Mr.Sumesh laughed a little though he did not let it show.  He hid his smile behind his huge moustache that even hid his nostrils.

The class began with a mild exuberance. Thanks to Rajiv. “Good morning my dear authors, poets and writers! Let me first go to our first session ‘wordplay’ straight away with a simple question. I need any one of you to answer my question. Who… am… I?” he asked and looked at everyone in a widespread look. “Anyone? You?’ he pointed towards Rajiv with a smile. Rajiv looked away in fright.

I was irritated by the question as I felt it was a foolish one, hence I showed no interest. Meanwhile, an unknown guy from somewhere within the classroom shouted “Sumesh Chopra!”

“Well my boy that is my name. I asked you ‘Who am I?’ he replied to the unknown guy. Mumbling voices filled the class. Everyone was confused. I began to find this a little interesting now.

Just then a girl from the first row stood up and said “Human being!”

Mr.Sumesh smiled a little and said “Expected! Well, that’s the name of the species that I belong to. I asked you ‘Who… am… Ii?’ he spoke each word loudly that it resonated in the class.

The girl stared at him with nothing more to say as though she was ready to cry. “Please take your seat ma’am” he said and turned to the class.

“Teacher?” I said in a much lower voice that even Rajiv barely heard. ‘Well, that is his profession’ I mumbled to myself.

“Well, my dears let me make it clear that this is not a psychology class. This… is our wordplay session! The question that I asked you is something very simple. Who… am… I? But it is not as simple as the question to answer. This is what is called wordplay. Using the words in an impressive and confusing, yet maintaining clarity in it. Well, that doesn’t sound so simple, does it? But, one of the most vital traits that a writer or a poet or an author needs is to appear distinctive, and master the art of wordplay.  It is not just the grammar or some silly attention  grabbing deeds that makes you a writer” he said in a highly self-esteemed pitch while looking directly at Rajiv who now felt even more embarrassed.

Despite the fact that Rajiv was caught in the wrong foot I found the class to be interesting now.  I sat up all ears  and  I  became eager to hear what else  the teacher had in store for us.

“I guess not even half of you would have understood what I actually meant. Okay now, let me ask you something else. I believe that you people, who wish to persue literature as your career would have definitely got a well-versed knowledge of grammar. Can anyone please write a sentence where a verb becomes a noun and an adjective becomes a noun?” he asked, pointing his marker pen towards the scribbling on the board.

All the students in the class began to discuss with their neighbor, curious minds hard at work; while I hardly understood the question for the first few seconds. I had no idea of what to do and looked relentlessly at my desk. However, my mind was so committed that it showed a lot of curiosity in the question. ‘What could it be? What could it be? Talk is walking? Walk is talking? Beautiful is good?’ I searched for the answer.

Mr.Sumesh waited for a minute, but nobody could come up with an appropriate answer. He finally turned to the board. ‘Wait wait! Give me a minute’ I wanted to shout. But since I did not, he proceeded to write on the board; ‘Verb becomes a noun. Adjective becomes a noun’.

Few were awe-struck. Few were confused. And few like me were subjected to both.

“Repeat the sentence twice or thrice or until you understand. Can anyone feel how close you are to the answer? This is a sentence where the word ‘verb’ becomes a noun and ‘adjective’ becomes a noun. I want to make it clear once again that this is not a psychology class, but a wordplay session. Actually what I mean to say is that, my question was also the answer” he said.

Everyone in the class was fascinated by his approach towards the language. “You people need a broader outlook to inscribe what you feel on the paper. As I mentioned, you guys are good at grammar and hence your nerves began searching for the answer from your linguistic hub; but the fact remains that you have the answer right there” he said.

I found this very appealing. The man had certainly imbibed some interest in English even in a person like me.

“A writer is not one who can write something new, but the one who can depict a well known fact in a unique manner; because in a world consisting of so many people, innovation is not always something that is new but something that sounds new. ‘Too much of anything is good for nothing’ may sound old. Whereas, if I said ‘Full is awful while some is awesome’; it can amount to a new version whilst the gist remains the same.  The dictionary says that innovation is a multi-syllable word which can be pronounced as ‘in no way son.” he said.

I was impressed. Meanwhile Rajiv turned to me and said “Man, he is damn boring. Is he not ?” and yawned. It predictably was boring for a majority of lads there, but not me. I gave him a not so kind look.

 “Well, my dear students s I would like to end my first day’s session with something very special to say”.

Everyone turned to him with acute attention to hear what could be so special for the day. Me being his latest fan, was more eager than anyone else.

“I would like to request you guys not to feel upset with me for being so boring rude or uninteresting or whatever else you feel about me. That may be because I am actually not your wordplay trainer but your psychology guide” he said this so simply with a  quick smile at the class.

‘What the hell!’ I wanted to shout. ‘You are not the wordplay trainer? Psy…? Psychology guide?’ I asked myself  after this sudden revelation.

“Yes! And I am here, just to make you all believe that your fingers were made to write things in your own style. You are here to present a picture of the planet earth and beyond with, a whole new approach and most importantly, like it has never been told before. By now, even if one amongst realize importance of being here, I shall take it as my greatest success. Good day!” he said and walked out of the class taking long strides even before I could react.

I was glued to my seat like a thunderstruck frozen kid. Myriad thoughts filled my mind and I it struck me, that I had developed a love towards English language; that too, in not more than an hour. Though I was not one amongst the top students during high school, something in me, made me believe that I could frame sentences in a better way; or in a new style, just as Mr.Sumesh mentioned. I no more felt guilty for being in the midst of twenty eight language freaks.

Rajiv came up to me. “Man, I am fed up. And what really irritates me is that I never guessed that literature could be so boring. My head is aching. Are you coming with me?” he asked.

I looked at him and signaled a ‘No’ and sat on my desk. I took out my pen and began to pen down the simplest thing that I could. My day!