Being the "Hindi Ammayi"

I rushed out of the auto and entered the college gate hurriedly. The security guard stopped me at the entrance to check my ID card, which ate up another 5 minutes of my time.

It was my first day at college, which made me all the more fidgety. I reached my classroom and said "May I come in, Ma'am?" with my right hand raised up to shoulder level. (that's how Kendriya Vidyalaya children are taught to ask for permission)

My classmates laughed. I entered the class as ma'am signalled me to. It was our English period and my teacher seemed really sweet and friendly. I've always noticed one similarity between all language teachers, they're all very delightful and easy going. They laugh with us, unlike other subject teachers who perceive it as an insult to them.

She began with introducing herself, and then asked us to do the same, one by one. While doing this, we were asked to prefix our name with an adjective from the first letter of our name. Like, Proud Pooja, Talkative Teju, Adamant Amit etc. It was my turn, and S was the most used letter so I fell short of adjectives. I couldn't think of a fancy one, so I rather framed it as "Simple Saumya". People started hooting at the back, which didn't happen for adjectives like superb, sexy, smashing and what not. The most "Simple" one underwent the most teasing. (Till date, we remember the adjectives that were used back then!) We were all meeting for the first time, so this way, it became easier to remember most of the names.

The next day, it was after my friend Sahithi told me, that I came to know why people laughed at me. I was used to raising my hand all the way to shoulder level every time I asked for permission to enter the class. She reminded me every time before entering the class, that I need not.

Although the medium of teaching is English everywhere, most of the teachers switched to Telugu in between in order for the students to understand better. It was after they're done teaching, that they would ask if there were any non-Telugu people in the class, and I would be the only one to nod in embarrassment.

There was not one teacher who didn't ask me about my schooling and hometown. (because of the obvious language difference) I was like an alien amidst all the gultis. It took me a while to settle down with these minute changes in my life.

On learning that I've been in Hyderabad for more than 13 years now, people gave me a weird look as to why I hadn't learnt Telugu already. Mind you, this doesn't apply to the gultis who don't understand Hindi. But why not!? (Matra bhasha bro! How can you not know it?) You ask? It's just because they're a majority and I'm not one among them. My name was often replaced by "that Hindi girl". I so wished I could call them all "Gulti" in return.

It was our chemistry period. I was sitting at the second bench in class when my chemistry sir looked at me and asked if I was able to understand what he taught. My benchmate replied to him, thinking that the question was for her. He then pointed at me and added, "No, not you! that Hindi Ammayi" I had by now, understood that I ought to get used to be addressed like that.