The broken clock

I’m Aarchi, a 21-year-old 5’2 plump sophomore student, studying mass communication from Gyor. I mostly manage to pass due to luck. Because I read but never for exams. Short wavy hair and messy in some tracks and shirts. Accompanied by chunky rings and resin or stone pendants. The wide syllabus and great mentors help quench my curiosity. For the boring lectures, I just read my novels. Wooden logs near the end of our campus are my safe house. Peaceful and quiet with no one to disturb. But there are also some classes I hardly miss and the professors for whom I always have questions. It was one of those days too.

I was walking in the corridor going towards the faculty lounge. For a long time, I was asking Mr Kaniza for a book and he kept delaying. That day I just thought let’s try without much hope. I walked in the long corridor. Seeing the misty garden. It was raining that day. The way raindrops accumulated and then fell around the pillars. The heavenly smell of earth filled the cold air. As most professors are friendly, I never stop myself from disturbing them.

I was a few steps away from the door listening to the music rain created. Anticipating how many people can be in the staff room. Whether they are discussing something serious. Then breaking my thoughts I opened the door. To my relief, there were only two professors at that time. Miss Tabitha Pesti and Mr. Zorán Kaniza. I asked if he had bought the book I asked for and then somehow started talking to Miss Pesti. Well, why wouldn’t I ? she was talking about Mr Groff, my favorite professor. He was on a long leave due to his father’s illness.

Now I think I have been asking for that book for a few days. Mr. Kaniza did tell me many details about the book, generally, I would remember it but about that. Because as we talked ma’am told me that Mr. Kristof has resigned. I was frozen for a few moments. The day he left he said he’ll be back. Maybe a part of me felt betrayed. All I could say was “He is on a long break; he’ll be back once his father recovers.” Who was I telling this I’m sure myself. To Miss Pesti or to myself. Miss Pesti told me it’ll be a few months till his father recovers hence he resigned.

In front of my professor, I maintained my composer and asked the questions I wanted. But as I walked out of the room, I felt lost. I started walking in the rain. Towards the edge of the garden. Now the rain wasn’t soothing, it was saddening. The air wasn’t fragrant but heavy. I felt as if someone took away my lifejacket and I’m stuck in the middle of a cold, stormy ocean. My heart ached without any reason. I was sad, angry, confused, and disappointed. Unable to comprehend why I was reacting the way I did. I was alone, sitting on a garden bench crying. As if a child was lost in a fair. I wished to see him. I wanted to call him and ask if he was coming back. Unable to understand my thoughts I started recalling everything.

It was the last week of February. A man around 5’3 - 5’4 walked into our classroom. Went to the podium and announced - “I’m Kristof Groff I’ll be taking your IT this semester and I want everyone in a lab in five minutes. No introduction, nothing. He was confused as hell.

He asked us to create new mail ids. Some students asked him if it was asking for his mobile number. Now, we know it’s not mandatory. He told them to put their number. For a second I thought he was joking but he wasn’t. There was a system failure on the desk he was teaching. So, he shifted to mine. Now, we were being thought google workspace. He had to switch the account but went to log in. I and my friend kept telling him it’s not how you do it. Then, finally, we had to do it for him. I guess he wasn’t enjoying teaching us.

After the session, someone asked him about himself. He just told us his name and asked us to google him. I cracked up laughing. The person who was confused about a simple action wants us to google him? Apparently, this super confused person had a whole site. We got to know he had studied in India and France. He works with an organization which protects the rights of journalists. Had a huge collection of published articles. An interesting guy I thought. Had two completely different sides. But the class wasn’t interesting and I just skipped other sessions as it was around the end of the semester.

This semester Sir Kristoff was teaching us human rights. Due to my presumptions from his first lecture, I decided to skip those classes too. In our group, there was someone named Chonyi. Now I knew everyone but this person. So, I guessed it’s the new professor. Now I wanted to know the meaning of this word. I was for him the class bunking student. One day I was waiting outside for him to finish the lecture. Then as he came out, instead of greeting him; I just asked if he was the person named Chonyi. I did think he’ll ask why I never take the class (guess he did not recognize me as a student of the same batch). He is said yes, he is. Then I asked the question I really wanted to ask. What does it mean? He told me it’s his Tibetan name. Also, he is a Buddhist. About the meaning, he was saying unobstructed something then said it means Buddha, everything in Buddhism means buddha. (Buddhism is a religion and philosophy that developed from the teaching of the Buddha (awakened one), a teacher who lived in northern India between the mid-6th and mid-4th centuries BCE).

Now, as soon as I got to know they were Buddhist I had tons of questions for him. I could ask for books on the subject as well. So, I started taking the Human rights lecture. Soon, I realized missing the earlier lecture was a mistake. Mr. Groff loved the subject. He thought about everything with such enthusiasm. The history of Human rights. The wars, the struggle, the civilian moments, the current state everything. I was glad I was taking the lecture. I also asked him for some books on Buddhism. Even when sharing PDFs, he had this rule of one at a time. He helped me write an essay for a competition. I realized he was sensitive to some things more than others. Issues like women's rights, oppression of minorities, transgender right etc. Even a small sentence about them will get him boiling.

He while saying how he never share his personal life would tell us a lot of his personal information. Like in early childhood how he was teased. He has a younger sibling but why would he tell people this? How his dad’s political opinion has changed. Then would exclaim saying “My Paa wasn’t like this.” Seeing an adult acting this different I just found it funny and cute.

Once I was just searching for people from college. When I was looking for his ID, I found his personal ID. I got to know he has a boyfriend. Had to check out their ID too. But then I started to feel guilty. I knew my teacher. It felt bad to know something he did not share himself. The next day, I went to him and apologized. I said, “Sorry sir yesterday I was stalking you.” I could not even finish my sentence and he was so shocked. He just asked – HOW? WHERE? WHEN? Is it was a holiday? Where did you find me? He said this in one breath. If I wasn’t the one at fault I would have laughed hard. But I explained that I meant I was checking out his Twitter account. He took a breath and said oh! it’s fine. But I kept laughing at my choice of words and that reaction.

Soon, human rights class was the best part of my day. There was so much to learn. The impact made on our minds and soul. The way he would describe the pain and suffering. Maybe belonging to a minority religion and being gay instilled this sensitivity in him. The things he told us it hurts to imagine how many he might have faced himself. He was mostly smiling but then there were times when the smile vanished. I wanted to ask him if he was tensed, or in pain but could never ask anything.

Then vacations came and no more classes. I read a book on Buddhism by Peter Harvey. Then Dave Pulitzer's “The child called it" and Eve Ensler’s “The Apology “on child abuse. I watched “The heavenly official’s blessings”, Mr. Heart, and "The strangers by the shore” all LGBT+ based. My gay besties and his boyfriend were more than happy with my recommendations. For pride, I wrote four different articles for four weeks celebrating pride month. How the LGBT+ couples are the best choice for foster parents but are declined the right. How to allow couples but not legalise the marriage is wrong. The anti-LGBT law passed in 2021 was a few of the topics.

Soon the vacation was over. Either I felt or really, he seemed happier than before. For the first time, I saw him laughing. That smile felt like the sun in winter. So, pleasant and warm. I prayed that he keeps smiling. But the next day I received a message from him. His dad was ill and he is going to Szeged. The exact opposite of what I prayed for.

A few days later I got a message from him. We talked about animal rights and I told him about my dog and how much I loved animals. The message was the video of his fur baby and it said meet Arhat. If this wasn’t from him, I might have sent tons of stickers and a voice mail saying Heeeellllooooooo Arhat but I instead typed it. My heart just melted seeing this adorable, calm Labrador baby.

Life was just rolling. Some other professor was given Human rights. And then that fateful day Miss Pesti told me that Mr. Groff resigned. I was waiting for their return and the sand clock deep in my heart broke hearing those words. And the glass pierced through my heart valves while the sand rubbed against the cuts creating unbearable pain.

I haven’t even realized till then that I had cried after 2- 3 years for myself. And that I was happy without trying to pretend, I looked forward to every day instead of wishing that I don’t wake up with the world. My nightmare had gone and I slept peacefully. But those words of sir quitting sent me back to the realm of pain I belonged to. I could not control my brain at that time. I wanted to call them and ask why. To tell them to bring their parents to Gyor. That I’ll arrange for a nice apartment for them they don’t have to leave. But what rights I have to call them? And more than that they were already in pain how could I call them when I have nothing but pain to give to anyone?

I wiped my face and put on the smile and went back to the classroom. A few days later I signed up for Miss Pisti’s workshop. I kept praying to the lord to let me see him just once. Just once to tell them that they were my hope and light. That I looked up to them. That I had started writing again and I wanted them to help me with the editing and other such stuff. That I wanted to create a straight plot from the jigsaw story I had created. And I wanted their help because they are the person, I don’t even know why my brain cells trust. That I look up to them. I wanted to request them to be my mentor. I wanted to tell them that I liked them.

Then I got to know they were coming to speak at an event. I happily thought that I’ll tell them everything there after their session. But then when the schedule came, I got to know that the workshop and their sessions were overlapping. I wanted to attend that session but I don’t still know why without second thoughts I choose the workshop. I texted them requesting to meet me before leaving. And they said they’ll be coming to the workshop on the second day. I wanted to ask them out for a coffee or at least 30 mins for me but could never gather enough courage. But because I really wanted them to know how I felt, I started writing things I wanted them to know how I felt. Though, while writing it I didn’t know if anyone will ever read it or not. I kept adding a few lines every day for I don’t know 3 or 4 days. And ended up writing 3 – 4 pages. Then just my luck I got throat ulcers. I somehow put on a brave face and went to the evening session of the workshop. There the guest speaker was talking about rain and moods. And I started writing a something

This is the thing I wrote that day-

What’s more painful

To see

Or to seek

For them to be here

Or for them to hear

What’s more painful

For me to fear

Or for me to clear

What’s more painful

Waiting endlessly & forget for what

Or losing after doing all I want

What’s more painful

If they never come and hear

Or they arrive and I stay

Enclosed in my fear

What’s more painful

To see

Or to seek?

Later while the session was going on just after an I had finished writing, he arrived. I just wanted to see them enough that even though my brain deletes human faces instantly I won’t forget them. I was really happy to see them and to hear them. I wanted to believe that they won’t leave. I never wanted them to be with me but then I wanted them not to leave me. Then after the session, I got to talk to them. And when Miss Pesti told them about my write-up, they said he recognized it not by the signature but due to the style. I felt so happy hearing that.

Then someone else started to talk to them, she didn’t even know them and so I missed my chance to give them that pdf to read. Though I told them about our project.

We were on a lawn and it was filled with mosquitoes so I applied some mosquito repellent and offered him some as they kept scratching due to mosquito bites. They didn’t listen so I called out a little loud and they took it from my hand. Then read the label and maybe judged the brand.

The fun part is I still don’t know why they kept trying to squeeze something from a roll-on bottle. But it was so funny, especially for a person who is a high-profile journalist based in Rózsadomb. Then I told them at least three times for them to hear that it was a fabric roll-on. And then they rolled it really aggressively on their hands. I don’t know I felt like some baby was in front of me. Then I told them it’s a fabric roll and then again, they removed the liquid from their hand by their hands I don’t you it’s still so funny, cute and everything. I kept thinking if the professor from the first day who asked us to Google him and this person were the same. Then I don’t know why what needs just 4-5 little circles to work they drew some big lines all over their shirt. I hope it didn’t leave any stain. It was the most hilarious thing I saw an adult do.

Then he went out looking for the cab and I for my brother who was coming to pick me up. He had put the wrong address and the cab had reached the wrong location. I asked him to cancel but the sweet human he is he said that it’s their fault, not the cab drivers. So then somehow, he managed to tell that ride executive the location and when I said bye the word sort of got stuck in my throat. And I regretted not being able to tell them what I wanted to. But I said bye and talked to other people who were leaving.

Then I thought I have to tell them because it was the promise I made and because if I want to talk to them in future, I can’t keep them in dark. Or I’ll keep thinking I have some ulterior motive behind talking to them. So I sent the whole pdf along with a message as to what that pdf meant.

That day I was really happy and sort of proud of myself for doing this brave thing. I knew he was committed and I never wanted anything from him other than for him to let me be his student and guide me. Because that’s the way I liked him. As a light in a dark cave. A lifeboat in the middle of the sea.

I actually thought Miss Pesti knew how I felt so the next day when she asked me and I told her how I was having a rough life and she still wanted me to tell her more I told her how I had confessed and to whom. I wasn’t feeling bad for writing and letting him know how I felt. Neither I feel bad about letting ma’am into this little secret.

Then someone sent me a screenshot at night. His partner had tweeted about my adventure. There was a comment calling me “want to be concubine”. I felt like someone stabbed me. As if someone took my heart apart. I didn’t feel bad about the word someone said but that maybe my teacher also saw those things. I respect them so much that even the thought of being called like that around them killed me. I felt bad that they thought of me like that. For me, the way I felt for them was the way they might think of Buddha. I felt bad because I could not explain them properly. To even think someone took my feelings in that way shattered all pride and happiness that feeling gave me. More because I knew they saw that too or even they thought that way. It was more painful than that time when I got to know that they resigned. It was much more painful than hearing every few months that my best friend lost his life die to me. I wanted to call sir and ask them if did they not know their own student. Was I this lacking? Was my feeling something to make fun of? I wasn’t mad at the tweet it was sweet coming from someone who knew nothing of me. And the comments I could never care for the person whom I don’t you and who don’t know me.

I just wanted to know if was it the same way they thought of me after reading that pdf. I could not even gather enough courage to even text them. It was the first time I had admired someone and also the first time I regretted something this much. All I could think about was that tweet and I asked ma’am to ask them to delete it.

And when they sent me a reply I couldn’t even read it and asked him to delete the tweet. And called him insensitive. They told me how could I care for some comments and I should not mind them. I just wanted to tell them I couldn’t care less for the comments. The comments were not the issue the pain was of them misunderstanding me. The person I respect so much how could I think about them like that? I felt bad to think that the person who claimed to be this sensitive how could they think that there’s only one kind of love. How could they think of the soul they had nurtured to be so low?

I had decided before sending that so-called letter that if they reply only then I’ll talk to him if he feels uncomfortable, I won’t text him. But I never thought he’ll misunderstand me. And in my own pain, I forgot how sensitive he is and called him insensitive. I wanted everything to end, the doom I have been waiting for years I wished it’ll finally come. While trying to throw away the pain I ended up hurting the person for whom I was praying.

If it’s a crush, how could I even write a love letter? And if it’s love how could I want anything else? I respected him so much that I could never even take his partner’s name without honorifics how could I even think of standing on the same pedestal?

And then the next day my heart was filled with remorse because how dare I disturb his peace. How could I call him insensitive? How dare I cross the boundary? And I just wanted to know if he was fine. I just wanted to apologize for the way I behaved. I just wanted to tell him why I reacted the way I did. I thought of calling him but couldn’t dial their number. I thought of texting him but kept typing and erasing the text.

Miss Pesti found me troubled. Maybe she had faced many such situations while reaching her mid-thirties. Though at first, I had my guards high she made me feel comfortable. She become someone I could open up to. My way out of my own troubling thoughts. Miss Pesti provided me with the soothing words and reassurance, I needed. For the next few days, I went to her because I felt at ease after sharing my thoughts. And she even when she was busy, took out some time. The day she came to me I thought I can never do that.

I knew I could never make her understand how I felt. Because how can I explain to a 21-year-old so serious about such a thing? How could they know a girl in her early twenties and never dated someone? A new adult with such a thought process. For me, this wasn’t something passing by. The whole reason for enrolling in this course was to be able to talk to people. That I’m afraid of humans so much that can never speak but only write about my feelings. That I can laugh while talking about the thing which means a lot and then turns the whole conversation to a different perspective. That I don’t even know what love means. And so I ended up getting trapped in my thoughts. And I lost my hope and light. My boat to the safe lands. But instead, I got captured in a deep dark well. And the land I was seeking has now sunk deep in the Tsunami.

But she took me under her wings. She came as a ship to rescue me. I felt that I haven’t lost anything or that I was not at fault. That no one has to be at fault. Just by talking to her the storm passed by without hurting me. With her help, I sailed safely back to the lands.

After getting back to my normal self I went back to my reading. Still, the thoughts of how a little assurance can help someone kept coming back to me. I had started writing this to tell how I was left crushed. How alone I was. But as I wrote and my memory kept running I realized I wasn’t alone ever.

In the beginning, I wrote how few words broke a clock inside me.

That clock which broke was not waiting for sir but it was waiting for this hell to end but now I no longer can wait and I no longer can face myself. I don’t want to be miserable.

Forgotten

I felt alive after so long

I had forgotten to live

My soul felt comfort after so long

Long ago I had forgotten to feel

My heart had found hope

I had forgotten to seek

But alas I destroyed it

I had forgotten to keep

As the only thing, I remembered was pain

I had forgotten to heal

And then again some other words came and took that clock out. And healed not just the current but many old wounds.

And with Miss Pesti’s encouragement, I could talk to Mr. Groff again. And hence I was saved from losing a mentor and guide because of my own over-imagination and troubled thoughts.

So sorry for making you read this.

And thank you for reading this.

It’s all fiction, I tried to relate how crushes sometimes crush teens and young adults. How a beautiful feeling they feel is affected by negative thoughts. If you have someone to talk to the pleasantness may be preserved.

Aar. P

(No persons or feelings were hurt during writing this. If you want to know what happens next to our protagonist like the story and comment your reviews. XOXO )