Welcome To Joshi Tutorials

Till the summer of 2015, I had never attended a tuition class. I hail from a place where coaching, is more important than breathing. I remember I was about to finish ninth class but people in my class had already enrolled themselves for “tenth summer coaching classes". 

My parents wanted me to go too, we travelled to Mangalore, Hubli and dharwad to look out for best classes. They didn’t opt for Bangalore, because of the “big city problems" you know. For once I thought Mangalore hostels were the shoot locations for crime patrol. The rooms were tiny, boxed and looked sad, like Mumbai chawls shown in the daily soap. It was clearly out of the list. Hubli too was not in consideration, because one of dad's friends found ‘Joshi classes’ in Dharwad. 

Mr.Joshi took the interview, I got selected. No actually, everyone was in. It was going to be over two months. I carried a calendar and started marking crosses on each day. Mumma arranged all my stuff, bought a new mattress, bucket, shampoo and surf excel too. I had no clue how to wash my clothes. Since they were makeshift classes, they didn’t have a proper hostel too, so I got an apartment to stay. We were eight people in that flat; five of us from my school and three others. Those girls had a high puff hairstyle, that could touch the ceiling. One of them had a burnt scar on her skinny hands. She applied a gel and kept her hand under the sun, I used to watch her do this every day as I brushed my teeth, until the sweetness of Colgate vanished. We weren’t allowed to carry phones, but all of my friends got it except me. It was for the first time; I saw people waking up all night and talking on the phone in hushed tones. I slept under the fan, I had strategically planned it. Even before anyone laid out the mats, in a jiffy I put my mattress and declared that it was my place. It was something I had picked from dodamma, she always slept between two table fans at grandpa’s house, while the others struggled to fit their fat arms and legs in the spaces. Our heads shared pillows and beads of sweat kept falling. 

We had classes from nine to two in the noon. I liked listening to English classes and the rest of the classes I was at home mentally. The chemistry was fun too, Kiran sir taught us, he was tall, brown as a raisin and wore camouflage plants with ash grey t-shirt. He looked like a soldier or maybe because he screened Hrithik's lakshaya, I felt so. The screening happened after insistence by my friends P and A, both jain Marwaris. They became my friends on the very first day because while I sobbed, they assured mum that they would take care of me. P also said in her bass tone, “ humne mummy ka kurta alter karwaya hai” ( we have altered mom's clothes), we weren’t allowed to carry jeans and I had picked more than five kurtas from reliance trends already. These Marwari girls eventually became my best friends. It started when I exchanged their khakaras with my avalakki chuda(dry snack). P, searched for peanuts and garlic; because her Jain roots prohibited them to do so. P and I secretly watched Manik Malhotra from Kaisi Yeh Yaariyan. She chuckled softly every time the on-screen couple shared a moment. Her pink lips suddenly looked red matching her blush. I blushed too and breathed heavily seeing a pile of books lying. I had to see them too. 

On the top floor of the building was the classes and on the ground floor, it had a big hall. We sat down and ate. The boys were locked up in their rooms while girls ate food. But I had seen guys peep out through balconies. I didn’t have the guts to look back, I wanted to run away from that pot-bellied cook, half-cooked lentils, bizarre rules and uninteresting classes. 

Yet, mum and dad's letter which read “sweet kisses" and “hugs" kept me going. I am glad I continued, because I met people like P, learnt trigonometric technique “oh ah ho" which I have used in my CET exams too, learnt how much I love ghaar ka khana(home cooked food) and using surf excel bar soap too. (Wink).