A Crying Call

November 10, 2025

Yesterday was a wonderful day. It was Ram Anna’s viva voce, and all the big shots of the department showed up. Many even came by taking leave from their respective institutions, and that itself spoke volumes about Ram Anna, his kindness, his dedication, and the love he had earned from both students and the department. More than a formal viva voce, it felt like a grand get-together of the university alumni, the place that had once opened heavenly doors for many. It was around 10:30 when Suna and I met. That was supposed to be our meeting time, but Suna had arrived a little earlier than expected, so she waited for me on the stone bench near the entrance, after sipping on a juice as the morning air swayed lightly around.

“Fountain kitta vandhuten”

“En kannuku onnum therilaye”

“Ippo gate kitta vandhuten”

After we met, the two of us made our way to the department, assuming the viva had already begun. But as we went upstairs and passed the waiting room, we spotted a few familiar faces, old friends we hadn’t seen in a while. The changeover is that the same ones who once met daily as students, are now sharing their experiences as Assistant Professors. காலங்கள் மாறும் என்பது உண்மைதானோ!

A few moments later, RA Sir crossed the hallway. He didn’t notice us. He seemed preoccupied, understandably so, since it was his favourite student’s viva. Not long after, DV Sir passed by the same spot, and this time, he paused for a short conversation with me, after he had turned away following my successful PG viva at the same waiting room more than a year ago. Afterward, Suna suggested a small detour at the terrace of the university. It was the same old terrace, yet it felt new. Maybe because earlier, whenever we had come to the university for viva or other events, we had been MA students. But now, standing there as Assistant Professors, everything felt different, familiar yet changed, humble yet quietly proud.

“Anga yen d pora, couple irukanga la. Ipdi va”

“Idhe angle la dhan anaiku photo eduthen unna. Apdiye tower pinnadi, nee munnadi ninnutu… pink chudidhar. Anga edho suthudhu”

“Drone pola. Vanakkam drone saar”

From the terrace, we looked through the windows and caught sight of Ram Anna and the others walking toward the Australian Studies room for the viva. Taking that as our cue, Suna and I exited the terrace and followed. Soon, the viva began. The external examiner was from IIT Madras, his English accent was crisp and classic. I could’ve listened to him for hours. The topic for the viva was “The Textuality of Popular Culture: Reading the New Novel.” The atmosphere was calm, composed, and engaging. After nearly forty minutes, the external, with a smile, finally said, “Mr. Ram, you can swallow your saliva now.” The whole room broke into silent laughter. Then came the vote of thanks. The newly crowned Dr. Ram began humorously, making everyone chuckle, but ended on a deeply heartfelt note:

“I don’t wanna miss one person

My wife Anuja

She’s the reason I am. Not just I’m here, I’m doing this and all. She’s the reason I am”

As soon as he mentioned his wife, all his peeps started giggling softly. Not long after, it was Pooja akka’s turn. Her viva went beautifully, and when she received her doctorate, her eyes glistened with tears of joy.

Once everything wrapped up, Suna and I drifted to the waiting room again, chatting with our old friends about PhDs, job, and the usual banter that never grows old. Ganesh sir appeared soon, as cheerful as ever, like a Diwali cracker, bursting into conversation, teasing, advising, and caring in his own warm, familiar way. By lunchtime, everyone had gathered to share Briyani. Suna and I, however, decided to sneak downstairs to the PWD side for parotta. Somehow, we ended up at the university canteen, settling for chapati instead, and surprisingly, it was delicious.

“Namma irundhapo lam onnume illaye d”

“Aama ippo pudhusa Varsha catering nu onnu vandhurku”

It felt good. Simple, ordinary, and comforting. Later, as we climbed back upstairs, the conversation turned to Suna’s TRB application. Her character certificate wasn’t in the right format. I quickly suggested getting a new printout. Soon, we were outside Dr. Armstrong sir’s cabin, waiting for his signature. Suna hesitated to go in, so with a little help from a friendly Anna from the department, the signature was secured. I then made sure the department stamp landed neatly below the green ink.

“Enna d potu vachurka”

“Adhellam correct ah dhan iruku moodu”

With that done, we decided to wind down the day with Azhagarasan sir and his group for tea, a tradition that had quietly become sacred over time. Like the old British coffee houses, these gatherings weren’t about anything in particular, but just words, laughter, memories, and that shared feeling of belonging.

It wasn’t just tea. It was a pause. A small ritual that made the university feel like home all over again.