Chapter 2

Shivangi

"oh god, oh god, oh god...." I sing song as usual, as I run out of my bathroom. I look up at the clock in my room, " Shit! I'm really running late now!!" It was already 8 o'clock and I'm supposed to be at the college by 9:30! I run around my room trying to find things I would need to get ready. Today was an important day and I did not want to mess it up. It's going to be my first interview ever and I was running late already.

I run to the floor length mirror in my room and release my long curly hair from the towel. It falls against my body, dripping wet but I didn't have time to dry it. I was late!!!!! I look at the mirror and survey myself from head to toe. I suppose I looked moderately good, I mean I finally have clear creamy skin. A little of eyeliner to highlight my chocolate-brown eyes and some colourless lip balm and I am good to go, I thought. I was about to relax a little when another thing hit me, my dress!

"Oh my god! Shivangi, what the hell?" I scold myself as I lightly hit myself on the side of my head. "You forgot to pick a dress last night, now what will you wear???"

Dropping the towel on to the bed, I run to my wardrobe across the room and swing it open. I survey the mess inside, trying to figure out what to wear. I pull out all the clothes until there was a mountain of fabrics on the floor. "Oh god! This is impossible. Today, of all days, this should not be happening!" I mutter to myself as I scoured through the heap.

Suddenly, my hand felt something and I sighed in relief and smiled. I lift it out of the heap and inspect it. Except for a few wrinkles, it looked decent, good enough for an interview. I quickly put it on and stood in front of the mirror.

"Not bad, Shivangi, not bad at all." I tell myself as I look at myself in the cream coloured anarkali suit with red lace border that showed my curves without hugging too much to my body. I twirl in of the mirror and smile and as the anarkali billowed around me. With the right footwear, I will look presentable, if not rather fetching. Satisfied with the way I looked, I turn to the desk near the door and pick up the file with my resume and certificates. I open the file and look at the model sketches inside and sigh in disappointment as I sit down.

It wasn't supposed to be happening like this, right now I should be worrying about the material round, part of the admission test for NIFT, national institute of fashion technology. I supposed to be on my way to become a fashion designer and not for an interview at a boy's college for VISCOM! I keep the file aside and sink into the bed and close eyes, thinking about how this day came to be.

In 6th grade, we had arts and crafts class and I had on a whim chosen dance that year. But I day, my teacher was absent and I was heading back to my class when I chanced upon a crafts class that changed my life. I saw the teacher showing my classmates, how to make jewellery out of beads. By the end of the period, I was so fascinated that I decided that's what I wanted to do. Since then, I kept collecting articles related fashion and jewellery designing and dreamt to get into NIFT. But dreams don't always come true and fate always has a plan for you and that's exactly what happened in my 12th grade, when I wrote the entrance exam for NIFT and didn't qualify to the next round.

I was disappointed, for sure, but I wasn't one to give up on things I want, so I thought I will try again next year determined that I will get it no matter what. But when I told my dad this, instead of being supportive, he told me clearly I had one shot at this and can't try next year. Now, I could've rebelled against him but I realised that doing so would not be wise as he is currently financing my studies and I needed him to do so until I was independent. At least that's what I told myself, instead of acknowledging the truth that I couldn't stand up to him. He, then, asked me to choose English literature as I had really good marks in the subject in 12th. But I refused to do so because though I love English and writing, reading classics as part of the curriculum is the last thing I wanted and doing so is not going to take me any closer to being a fashion designer. The other reason I declined English Lit. was because of the college, it was a girl's college and a pretty good one too but I had my sights for another girl's college which was rather attractive in term of their regulations and curriculum. When I told my parents about the college I wanted to go to, they were more than a little surprised, especially my mom. She, of all, knew that I had always wanted to go to a co-ed college and not a girl's only. But after I left Coimbatore and had come to Chennai in my 12th grade and all the drama that followed made me not want to be around boys for a long time to come.

But my choice of college was nothing compared to the shocker that dad gave all of us. My father is a conservative man and had made sure my sister attended a girl's college for both her undergrad and graduate degrees. And I was expecting the same for myself but when he asked me to join a boy's college for VISCOM, all of us were shocked. St. Joseph's is essentially a boy's college that allowed girl's only for certain courses in UG and all courses in PG. I tried to insist on not going there but my father was relentless and here I am, stuck on going to an interview at a college I am not fond of for a course I would rather not take. The only ray of hope in all of this is that visual communication is somewhat related to the fashion world.

"Shivu! Come have your breakfast before it gets cold." Mom's voice jolts me out of my reverie and I get up from my bed. I take a look at the clock and run out of the room. It was 8:30 am, just one hour until the interview. Huh.

By 9 am I was outside the college with my father. With my father rushing and my nerves, I didn't have enough time to admire the vastness of the campus. As I enter the department, wringing my hands, I see a huge line of students waiting for a badge of sorts. I walk toward it, leaving dad behind. I stand in the line for five minutes before I was the last one on the line and received my badge. I was then guided to a room on my left, the board on top read audio-visual room. I enter the room and look around, it looked like a theatre on the inside, with a large white screen hanging from the wall on my left and the rest filled with soundproofing materials and mounted speakers. There was a middle-aged man in glasses standing on the podium on to my left, in front of the screen, he had some papers in his hand and was talking to someone. He seemed to be in-charge of the roll calling. I take a seat in the middle row and look around to find half the room empty. I turn the badge in my hand, it was made out of cardstock and had the number 400 printed on it. Sighing quietly, I keep it inside my bag along with the file, it was going to be a long wait before my number is called, the count was still in late 200s. So I lean back on the seat and close my eyes for a while before I remember I came with dad and had left him outside without a word. I jolt up, almost falling, and rush outside, my hair tangling on my earrings.

"Where were you?" My dad demands as soon as I reach him. He looked mildly miffed and expectant of a good answer. I quickly tell him about receiving a badge and going to the theatre to wait for my number to be called. He simply nods and says, "I'm going to office now, call me when you're done. I will send the driver."

"Okay, dad."

I sigh disappointed that he can't wait around for awhile but then I should be used to it by now. For him, his work was more important than family, always has been. I sigh again and force a smile on my face before looking up. I see a bunch of students being rushed out, heading upstairs. I rush to them and ask one for their number and sigh in relief to know it has only reached 300 still. I wait for the rest to file out before I rush to the door and push it open.

BAM!

I heard the glasses falling before I felt the cold steel of the tray digging into my skin. I take a step forward and turn to see a young man standing there, annoyed at me for crashing into him. "Oops! I'm so sorry" I say and bend down to pick up the glasses along with the man. As I pick them up I realise most of them were empty while some still had a little tea in them. Once I was done, I got up and apologized many more times.

"That's okay, but you made a mess out of yourself." he says and looks behind me, frowning slightly. That's when I hear the Snickers and comments from guys in room. I ignore them and turn my attention back to the man infront of me, who was smiling. " Btw congratulations on being the highlight of today's interview round." I laugh at that, throwing my head back. A few moments later, I once again apologize and then thank him before he exits the room. That's when I look down on my hands to see them sticky and notice and the stain on my cream anarkali.

"Shit!" I mutter and pull the door open and rush to the washroom.

When I return to the room, I find it mostly empty except for few guys. I ask one of them about the roll calling, only to know that my number was up and I was supposed to go up. Cursing myself, I snatch my bag from the seat and rush upstairs. I was slightly panting when I reach up stairs, 10 metres from the interview room. I stop and take deeps breaths and run a hand in my hair to look semi-presentable. I slowly walk towards the bench where couple of guys were sitting. As I reach the bench, I feel eyes on me but ignore them like I have been doing since my school days. I sit on the empty spot between two guys, where the number 400 was printed.

In few minutes, the guy on my left was called up and I felt myself getting increasingly nervous by the second. So to control it, I alternated between wringing my hands and tapping my feet on the ground, sometimes even both.

"You know, you are only going to get more nervous if you keep doing that." I heard a whisper from my right, startling me. I turn towards the voice and find my face just inches away from the most handsome face I have ever seen and my breath catches in my throat.