The Explosion- Episode 1

All characters in this story are truly non fictitious and any resemblance to their lives is purely non-coincidental

There was a sharp audible series of blows on the door.

Mr G, Mr B and I were sitting in the room, chit chatting about something irrelevant (may be why Arsenal lost so much or the moon hoax or something nowhere related to us :)). Mr G, just as always super clad in a smart t-shirt and tracks, was at the table, solving geeky mathematics questions simultaneously. Mr B, super nude in his smallest ever shorts, covered in a light brown silk sheet, trying to be a Kangna Ranaut in the song "tu hi meri shab hai subaah hai", with a book in front, was lying on the bed in a yogic position. The third in the room of two was me, just filling in the conversation, when suddenly there was a sharp audible series of blows on the door, which left us startled.

I was nearest to the door, Mr B second and Mr G the farthest and guess who in his sheer swiftness opened the door.

Mr G opened the door.

On the other side, stood a man, as dark as an iron pan, broad, bandy legged, with a walrus moustache, square hands, puffed and muscled on the palms, eyes full of distrust, showering a feeling of disgust. Hair matching his colour, protruded from the stetson hat. Clad in a soldier's blue uniform, with a belt, showing worn shiny places opposite each hole, due to the gradual increase in his middle over the years. His appearance was so monstrous, it could make a freshman hit his own balls and fall senseless rather than looking at him.

A few hours earlier...........

There was a sudden explosion in the block, a sudden explosion, with the warden in house. It was indiscipline at the strongest condemn-able. Some crazy but brave students had lit up what others were talking about pre and post diwali. Instant patrols were spree on the lookout for the culprit. Every room was being sniffed for a suspect. The explosion had shaken the very base of Mr UMD.

Mr UMD was a squared faced, button eyed, thick lipped, chevron moustached, military haired, well bulit, tall and stout ex army man (at least what he claimed to be), who used to walk like a half drunken elephant. He thought it was his style or may be just tried walking in this guile. He was the warden of the block, a teacher at the mechanical workshops. He illusion-ed himself as smart, perceptive, inventive, witty, pragmatic, insightful, considerate, gentle, graceful, but in the truth he was dull, irritating, pensive and all not he thought of himself. He believed himself to be the Buddha, spreading the values of life, but in the reality he tormented them to a level which if utilized well could make Al-Qaida cough up all their plans.

The night before, he had caught a few students, strolling back after a post dinner stroll, and made them fit to see an ENT, kept all the fraction o second late comers stand outside the gate till they begged for mercy, twice, and two nights before, had caught all the students out on the corridors giving them an earful for doing so. This routine had been on for months. The rebel was rising, his pot of sins was full. Something had to be done. What? How? Nobody knew.

The night before............

Mr UMD had disappeared from block after the foreplay only he enjoyed, to probably indulge in the nuptial ceremonies (I bet even that involved a lot more unwanted words than actions :)), leaving all the block inmates to what they did best - hanging around in one room for a movie or some nasty, irrelevant talks, or for a game of counter strike. To say the least, it fell back to the normal affairs of a boy's hostel. But something abnormal was being hatched, somewhere, by someone. Room 317 was abuzz.

To be continued............