Chapter 1
Some professors inspire you to study; mine inspired existential dread before the first roll call.
Just as Kimaya was settling in, her phone pinged: “Broadcast from your professor.”
Dear students,
Tomorrow morning, we have a lecture at 9. But I have cancelled it. I know this is amendment week, and most of you do not plan on attending classes, but I advise that you attend mine from Wednesday onwards. If you don’t come on Wednesday, then don’t bother to come at all for the rest of the semester.
Ty,
Dr. Akaav.
Oh god! Have I selected one of the psycho professors in order to have a good timetable? Again, I would have to sit through an amendment?
****
Kimaya descended from the auto at the gate of the ladies’ hostel with her father.
After quick entry formalities at the security counter, sharing a few hugs and kisses with her father, she called up her new roommate.
HNB’s roommate ritual hit after the first year: groups were formed, and the student with the highest CGPA was made the representative who would select the room for the entire group. If someone came without a group, they would be assigned spots in rooms at random based on their rank.
Kimaya had wanted to take room with Ashima, her best friend, but she was staying with her 1st year roommates, and they didn’t have space for one more person in their group.
So on the fated day, as the auditorium buzzed with betrayals and politics, Kimaya sat alone, rank in hand, as groups ditched each other.
Then someone a few rows down from where Kimaya was sitting got up and shouted, “Anyone for four-bed non-AC?”
Kimaya stood up before she could consciously think over and shouted back: “Me--Kimaya Bedi.”
Priya, Paridhi, Shamita swapped glances as Kimaya came to their group. Paridhi quickly took her ID, and went to lock it in. A few moments later LCD flashed their names and announced successful room allotment. They quickly exchanged numbers and went on their way.
For the rest of the semester and the end-of-term holidays, they barely contacted each other. At least, Kimaya wasn’t in touch with anyone up until today...
Shamita had messaged on the WhatsApp group that she arrived last evening and will come and receive Kimaya when she arrives. Since Shamita was the first to arrive, she had all the room keys.
When Shamita came to meet Kimaya and her father in the visitor’s lounge she immediately said namaste to Kimaya’s father and hugged Kimaya, enquiring about her journey and wellbeing.
This might be practically their first time talking to each other, yet Kimaya instantly liked her new roommate.
Mr Bedi also felt relaxed meeting the girl. The child had good manners... unlike her previous roommates, who were highly obnoxious. Those girls were every bit capable of causing a nuisance and getting suspended, dragging unfortunate bystanders with them.
The hostel room selection process wasn’t the only tedious ritual that HNB conducted. 2nd year onwards, HNB gave students the option to choose their timetable and take up electives.
HNB’s “choose your own adventure” elective system sounded great in theory—until you realised it was a battle royale of website crashes, slot clashes, and the annual “who gets the best professor” stampede. Kimaya’s dad, MVP of the day, managed to wrangle her a half-decent schedule after a round of heated negotiations with the HOD. Word spread, and suddenly, every lost soul in her batch was lining up for Mr. Bedi’s timetable-fixing services.
By evening, her dad was off to Mumbai, and Kimaya was left in her new room, feeling cautiously optimistic. She had six regular subjects, two electives, and a burning hope that this year, she’d finally get to be the main character in her own story.
But just as she was settling in, her phone pinged: “Broadcast from your professor.”
Dear students,
Tomorrow morning, we have a lecture at 9. But I have cancelled it. I know this is amendment week, and most of you do not plan on attending classes, but I advise that you attend mine from Wednesday onwards. If you don’t come on Wednesday, then don’t bother to come at all for the rest of the semester.
Ty,
Dr. Akaav.
Oh god! Have I selected one of the psycho professors in order to have a good timetable? Again, I would have to sit through an amendment?
Kimaya gaped at the message. First of all, it didn’t feel like this professor considered them dear in any sense and what sort of a pompous, senile person posted such a message on the first day of the term??
Kimaya went to the faculty list and checked the name of the professor once again: Akaav Singh Rajput.
Hmmm, lyrical much? More like it already had an arrogant ring to it.
She looked at the little photo next to the name. Looked young. Really young....
Maybe it is an old photo. And now he is a 70-something grumpy old man about to retire and takes his frustration out on students... Kimaya concluded. After all, the photo was a passport photo with an expression so sombre you would think this man took it right after having a divorce or something and was going to slap the photographer hard once it was taken.
Nevertheless, she immediately logged into the amendment portal and started looking for substitutes for this subject.
After spending the entire afternoon on the portal, she still couldn’t find anything unless she was ready to take a really late evening class. But Kimaya is a morning person, she just can’t study in the evening, and hence her timetable was designed to have all morning theory and only practicals in the evening. This way, she even managed to have Thursday and Friday evenings free. Now, if she drops this bioengineering class and takes up a foreign language class (the only alternative possible), her two precious evenings will be ruined.
Resigned to fate, she decided to attend the class the next day and see how bad it could get; maybe that would give her the motivation to switch.
Kimaya expected the classroom to be a ghost town after yesterday’s “attend or perish” broadcast. Instead, it was packed mostly with fourth years clinging to their last chance at finishing credit requirements and third years terrified of a credit backlog.
Apparently, academic desperation trumped fear. Seniors hogged the back benches like seasoned pros, leaving the handful of second years stranded up front, deer-in-headlights style, all having the same “I regret my life choices” expression.
Then the door swung open and in walked the legend: haughty, magnetic, and way too attractive for anyone’s good.
Fantastic. He was hot and homicidal!
