12
—
Neha Speaks
SAMIR BHAIYYA,
I don’t know how and when you will read this, this letter that I’ve got to write anyway.
I am always composing replies to that last mail of yours, the one you penned only to me
though I am not happy about the exclusivity. But then I have told you that before.
Anyway, let me tell you about this boy I met. You could call Hari my boyfriend, though
I don’t. He is a student, can you believe it? Remember how we hated every IIT student
who lived on campus? We met in this totally strange manner, there was something about
him that drew me from the very beginning.
Not very good looking or anything, nor super smart but there he was, this silly
bumbler. As you can guess, Dad and Mom have no clue, something that I’ve learnt to live
with since you left but you can well imagine what will happen if Dad finds out. Remember
how he called cops to arrest a man who whistled at me at the campus bus stop? And the
time he changed the home phone number because a male classmate called for notes? He
wants to bring up his daughter right. I am his mission in life. He doesn’t want to make the
same mistake twice. Did you have to do that to me, Bhaiyya?
I just want to tell you, don’t worry about me for I know girls should be good.
Sometimes I feel this guy is only interested in getting physical. Other girls who have
boyfriends tell me all boys are the same, want the same thing. But can I tell you
something? Even I want the same. No, no I haven’t done anything yet. But then, every
now and then I get curious, start imagining what Hari would do if I let him. Is thinking
that a bad thing?
Oh no, here I go, throwing questions at you again. Let me tell you more about Hari. He
has two friends - Ryan and Alok. They are nuts. Now don’t think I have started liking IIT
students or anything – just that these guys are dif erent. For one, they can barely remain
students with their five-point something GPAs.
I know what you are thinking, they are the kind of students Dad would hate, and you
are thinking she is hobnobbing with them for precisely that reason. You are wrong,
Bhaiyya. You know on my last birthday, they broke into our house, these loafers I am
talking about. Hari came into my room and gave me flowers plucked from our garden! I
hope Dad never finds out about him the wrong way. And I hope I can keep meeting him
forever. Though there is so much more I don’t yet know about Hari.
My plan is the day Hari gets a job, I will introduce him to Dad. I mean, Dad will still
flip his lid, but at least there would be something going for Hari. Right now, he is a little
bit of a loser if you ask me. Sorry, if I am being mean. But in some ways, he is. For one
thing, he is besotted with Ryan. “Ryan this, Ryan that,” bugs me no end sometimes. I
don’t think this Ryan guy is all that cool. Wears branded clothes, but that is only because
his parents are loaded. I personally think behind all this guy’s aggression there is a
vacuum.
See, that is the thing with these IIT guys and their college, they all are too wrapped up
in the bricks and walls to know who they really are and what they really want. I want to
tell them – before you get all gung-ho about working for the future, work out your past
and present but that will just sound so grandma-ish and I am, well, so young.
Well, that is all I shall write for now. I promise to write again, and I promise to be
good. But do not tell Dad and Mom what I’ve been babbling about. See, I kept your last
promise and have not told anyone about your letter to me how much ever that broke me,
so keep mine. Yes, I know Mom would not have been able to take it. She hardly speaks
these days anyway. Why did you leave us Bhaiyya? It isn’t fair, you know that, right?
Missing you,
Neha
13
—
One More Year Later
WE WERE DRINKING ON THE INSTI ROOF. THIRD YEAR students now, alcohol no
longer a novelty. This meant we could
Five Point Someone What not to do at IIT Novel Chetan Bhagat
Re: Five Point Someone What not to do at IIT Novel Chetan Bh
13
—
One More Year Later
WE WERE DRINKING ON THE INSTI ROOF. THIRD YEAR students now, alcohol no
longer a novelty. This meant we could drink less and not throw up every time to certify
having a good time. We were drowning our sorrows today for two reasons. Firstly, after a
year of working the files, the mechanical engineering department had coolly rejected Ryan’s
lube project proposal. Secondly, I had messed up yet another viva. When it came to
screwing vivas, I am the man you want!
“Screw the lube project. I have wasted too much time on it. But look at you, Hari. It is so
bloody typical of you. Why do you get so tongue-tied?” Ryan said, in whose veins
confidence corpuscles flowed larger than red.
“I wish I knew.” I squinted, frustrated.
“You know the answer to the viva questions. You know the answers, right?” That was
Alok.
I nodded my head. It was pointless. Three years of practice in vivas did not leave me any
less petrified.
“Ryan, you know I hate vivas. But c’mon man. You must feel like crap,” I said.
“What crap? I only did ten night outs on the proposal, the revised proposal and spent like
a hundred hours in the lab. But in the end, Cherian shot it down. ‘Too optimistic and
fantastic,’ he said. I could wring his bloody neck,” Ryan announced.
“But you know your idea is good,” Alok said flatly.
“Of course it is. Even Prof Veera thinks so. But Cherian doesn’t, and he is the head.
Anyway, screw it.”
“Is it completely over?” I said.
“From my side. Prof Veera might try private sponsorship or something. Pretty much over
though I should say,” Ryan said.
Alok sat quietly, picking his nose and sipping his vodka. It was disgusting, but it didn’t
bother me anymore. It is amazing how habit immunizes you.
I looked fully at Alok. “At least you are happy.”
“Happy?” Alok echoed, “good joke.”
“Now what happened?” I said.
“Nothing. Nothing bloody happens in my life situation. That is why I am never happy.
Sister needs to get married, that is the latest I guess.”
Alok had a point. A miserable home, pointless grades and loser friends was hardly the
route to happiness. At least he had the joy of picking dirt out of his nose in the company of
his friends.
“How’s Neha?” Alok said.
“She’s fine. That is the only thing that keeps me in IIT,” I said.
“Yeah right. Have you gotten any further though?” Ryan said.
“Like what? I have kissed her now you know,” I said.
“Yes, but like ten years ago. And there is much more than that. You know that right? Or do
you get tongue-tied in front of her as well.”
Alok tittered.
“Screw you Ryan,” I said, “Neha is not that type of girl.”
“But you are that type of boy. So make her that way,” he said.
“How?”
“I can’t tell you everything.”
Once it was dark we decided to return to Kumaon. Time did go on, and thank god for that.
For that meant we only had so many fewer days left in this place.
“I’ll be happy when college is over,” I said.
“At least we have perfected the C2D,” Alok said.
“Of course,” Ryan said and smirked, “when was the last time each of us did his own
assignment?”
“It still scares me sometimes though,” I said.
“Why? The profs never read the crap they give us carefully. They’ll never find out,” Ryan
dismissed, cocky as ever.
“I heard Cherian is anal though,” Alok said.
We’d find out soon; it was finally time for Cherian to start teaching industrial engineering
and management or Indem.
“Yes, the bastard will teach us finally. I am not attending any of his classes,” Ryan said.
“You don’t have to. It’s Hari’s course under C2D,” Alok said and winked, “our guy wants
to impress the dad.”
“Well, at some point I do want Neha to tell her dad about me. Wouldn’t be a good start if
I skip all his classes,” I said.
“I hate him,” Ryan said simply.
No one skipped Cherian’s first class. That is, no one apart from Ryan. I was curious to see
in person the devil who tormented my girlfriend and my best friend. Others went to see the
head of the mechanical engineering department of the best engineering college in the
country. They said Cherian was a perfect 10 in his IIT student days. I didn’t know much
about the man, apart from the fact that his daughter was a perfect 10 to me.
I had reached five minutes early, and for the first time in three years, had taken a seat in
the first row. I don’t know why, but I really wanted to do well in his course. Perhaps an A in
Indem might give a good first impression, leading the way for Neha to introduce me. It just
sounded better – “Dad, meet Hari – the guy who topped your Indem course,” rather than
“Dad, meet Hari. The loser who scraped a C in your course.”
Prof Cherian walked in precisely at nine, and brought with him a huge pile of books as if
he had just robbed a library.
“Pay attention everyone. Let us start with the lecture,” he began in a firm voice.
There is something about seeing your girlfriend’s parent for the first time. I couldn’t help
but notice how Cherian was an extremely bad replica of Neha. Like her wax statue had
puffed up first and then begun to melt haphazardly. He had the same jaw and round face like
hers, however, his face was twice as big, with chunks of loose flesh hanging where Neha
had these super-smooth, taut cheeks. Instead of Neha’s long and beautiful hair, Cherian had a
bald spot bigger than a Nirula’s hamburger. If she dressed to act in a horror movie, Neha
would look like her father.
“Time and motion studies are the essence of Indem. As engineers you should be able to
reduce human actions to measurable tasks and stop talking there in the third row,” Cherian
said as he threw a piece of chalk at two students who had found a private joke too good to
resist sharing it in class.
“Meet your father-in-law,” Alok whispered.
“Looks like he can eat me alive,” I said.
Cherian heard the whispers and stopped writing on the board. He turned around and
banged a duster on the table. “No one talks for the next sixty minutes,” he pronounced in a
no-nonsense tone that would make Saddam Hussein shudder, “is that clear?”
Chalk dust formed a cloud as if Cherian had burst a grenade in the classroom. Behind
this, one could barely see his contorted face. I wondered how Neha had spent an entire life
living with him, wanting to rescue her that very instant. I thought of eloping with her, making
the escape through the roof while Cherian slept. But where would I take her? The hostel
was hardly handy, what with all of us sleeping in one room.
Cherian’s first example of time and motion study was of a shirt factory. Let us say there
were five workers, now they could either make individual shirts each, or one could divide
the shirt making tasks. For instance, the first worker could cut the cloth, the second worker
put in the first stitch, the third sews buttons and so on and so forth.
“This breakdown of tasks is called an assembly line. But you have to ensure that each
task is of equal time to avoid bottlenecks.”
Therefore, if cutting cloth took six minutes and the first stitch took three, two workers
could do the first job. “This way, you can have a fast assembly line. Workers focus and get
more skilled at their tasks. And what is more, you don’t need extra equipment – like instead
of five scissors, you need only one,” Cherian said.
It all sounded very reasonable. After all, that is what engineers should do right? Tell
workers how to work more efficiently, thinking up clever ways to save resources.
“He makes sense,” I said.
“Just take notes. Anything can come in the quiz,” Alok said.
The Fatso will remain a loser, I thought, except at nose, where his pickings were rich. I
mean, I am no great thinker or anything, but sometimes one does listen in class. All this guy
wanted to do was mug in class and puke in tests. I thought of discussing Indem with Ryan.
Sixty minutes later, Cherian put his chalk down. He modified the shirt example ten times,
to show various time and resource allocation combinations. In typical IIT fashion, the
simple example somehow converted into complex equations. The prof gave an assignment
for the next class using these equations, which meant two hours at least in the library that
night.
“Are you stupid. You found this Indem crap interesting,” Ryan said as I told him about the
class.
“Why? Think about it, instead of each person cutting and then sewing…”
“So, you want to reduce each tailor to a cloth cutter or button sewer. What are they,
bloody robots?”
“No, just being smart. See if you apply the optimization equation…”
“Screw the equation. What do you want the worker to say at home? That I made ten shirts
today? Or that I cut fifty pieces of cloth? Do you realize how mind-numbing each job willl
become?”
“That is silly,” I said, “it is about improved efficiency.”
“But what if each worker wants to make his own shirt and wants to improve the design? It
is just the same Cherian crap, treat humans like mindless machines.”
“I think you should attend his class, Ryan. I can’t explain it. He seemed to make sense.”
“Of course, he makes sense to you. You want to nail his daughter that’s why.”
“Aw, shut up, just come to class all right. It is high time you give this system a chance.”
“It’s a screwed up system, so no more chances. Now, give me the assignment so I can cog
it.”
I met Neha outside the insti gate for a walk-date. A walk-date is where you go with your
girlfriend for a long walk to get some fresh air and quality conversation, or at least you say
so. The real great thing about walk-dates is that they are free. To me, nearly broke as it was
my turn to fill Ryan’s scooter tank last time, it was the obvious choice. Neha chose the route,
a five-kilometer return trip from the campus via nearby villages.
“So, tell me. What did you think of my Dad?” Neha said as if she expected me to jump in
excitement.
“Don’t really know him, but pretty strict I think. How do you live with him?”
“You know he is really impressed by good students. I hope you are going to do well in his
course.”
“I am trying. But I have never got an A. And he gives like a dozen assignments a week.
Plus there is a viva component that I hate.”
“If you do get an A, I’ll probably tell him that we are friends.”
“Well, I am trying. Anyway, where are we walking to?”
“Just keep walking, I have a place in mind.”
I kept silent, hoping she had thought of a secluded place. That is all one wants when one
is dating, an empty place with nothing to do, no one around. Yet, you see dozens of fast-food
places, cinemas, and ice-cream parlours, all targeting the dating crowd. Why don’t they just
make rows and rows of empty rooms instead?
Neha took me through a mud-path that led to Katwaria village. A few semi-naked kids
looked at us curiously as if we were a different species. Two buffaloes loose from their
sheds were also taking an evening walk, and one seemed to follow us.
“Are you sure you know where we are going?” I asked doubtfully.
“Of course, I am. See that temple at the end of this path, over there.”
I squinted my eyes. There was a temple flag, around a kilometre away. After a while, the
buffalo following us gave up on the idea, and the two of us were alone.
We reached the temple and sat down at the parapet of the neglected steps. A stray
snoozing dog opened an eye to look at us. In front of the temple was a railway line. I
guessed it was for the Delhi ring railway, the local city train that no one really used and ran
only once every couple of hours.
“What is this temple doing in the middle of nowhere?” I said, casually picking up her
hand. The dog didn’t care, and no one else was really around.
“I think only some villagers use it on special days. But I like it here,” Neha said, leaning
against me.
We kissed, I don’t really know who started it. That is the cool thing about having a steady
girlfriend. You don’t have to struggle every time you want to kiss. But that was the farthest
you could go with Neha. I put my hand on her shoulder for support. Then in a completely
planned but seemingly unintentional manner I let it slip down toward her chest. Maybe this
time her reflexes wouldn’t be as strong.
“No!” Neha said the moment it got interesting. She pushed me away and sat up.
“You are so beautiful,” I said, trying to be as mellow as possible.
“Shut up,” she said and giggled, “your corny lines aren’t going to get you anywhere. Have
some shame, we are near a temple.”
Yeah right, I thought. As if kissing next to a temple was okay but somehow the classic
‘slide the hand carelessly down’ was not. Neha, I tell you, is the queen of contradictions.
I tried to get close to her again, it was useless to argue.
“Just kisses. You know this is wrong,” she warned.
We did our making out, or rather me-trying-to-make-out routine for half an hour, after
which she had to go home or something. We stood up, threw the dog a last glance and started
walking back.
“Do you know my brother died on those tracks?” she said.
I hadn’t really heard much about how her brother died. Gory stories kind of just put me
off but I guess guys have to listen to their girlfriends. “Really? No, I didn’t know. How did
it happen?”
“I still remember the date, May 11. Bhaiyya had gone for a jog. We got the call midmorning.
I mean, Dad got the call. He told us only in the evening and I …wasn’t even
allowed to go see the body.” Her voice began to quiver.
We were nearing the village, so I wasn’t sure if I should let her cry on my shoulder. But
she herself chose to, and I couldn’t do much.
“Neha, it’s okay,” I said, conscious of two urchins staring at us. The only time they had
probably seen a guy and a girl embrace was on screen.
She only moved away from me when the number of kids watching us had gone up to eight.
“Wow, now where did they come from?” She wiped her eyes. The eight kids, mostly
naked, looked at us intently as if they were watching a film.
“See, she is a heroine,” I said to the kids.
“Raveena Tandon,” said a three-year old in the crowd.
Neha started to laugh, much to my relief, given her moods tended to be long.
We walked further, until we came close enough to campus where we adopted separate
paths.
“Perhaps I can introduce you as his course topper to him some day.” She winked, walking
ahead.
I waited the prescribed five minutes and then headed for campus. Was I in love with her?
I kicked a pebble out of my way; if only she wouldn’t be so good all the time!
—
One More Year Later
WE WERE DRINKING ON THE INSTI ROOF. THIRD YEAR students now, alcohol no
longer a novelty. This meant we could drink less and not throw up every time to certify
having a good time. We were drowning our sorrows today for two reasons. Firstly, after a
year of working the files, the mechanical engineering department had coolly rejected Ryan’s
lube project proposal. Secondly, I had messed up yet another viva. When it came to
screwing vivas, I am the man you want!
“Screw the lube project. I have wasted too much time on it. But look at you, Hari. It is so
bloody typical of you. Why do you get so tongue-tied?” Ryan said, in whose veins
confidence corpuscles flowed larger than red.
“I wish I knew.” I squinted, frustrated.
“You know the answer to the viva questions. You know the answers, right?” That was
Alok.
I nodded my head. It was pointless. Three years of practice in vivas did not leave me any
less petrified.
“Ryan, you know I hate vivas. But c’mon man. You must feel like crap,” I said.
“What crap? I only did ten night outs on the proposal, the revised proposal and spent like
a hundred hours in the lab. But in the end, Cherian shot it down. ‘Too optimistic and
fantastic,’ he said. I could wring his bloody neck,” Ryan announced.
“But you know your idea is good,” Alok said flatly.
“Of course it is. Even Prof Veera thinks so. But Cherian doesn’t, and he is the head.
Anyway, screw it.”
“Is it completely over?” I said.
“From my side. Prof Veera might try private sponsorship or something. Pretty much over
though I should say,” Ryan said.
Alok sat quietly, picking his nose and sipping his vodka. It was disgusting, but it didn’t
bother me anymore. It is amazing how habit immunizes you.
I looked fully at Alok. “At least you are happy.”
“Happy?” Alok echoed, “good joke.”
“Now what happened?” I said.
“Nothing. Nothing bloody happens in my life situation. That is why I am never happy.
Sister needs to get married, that is the latest I guess.”
Alok had a point. A miserable home, pointless grades and loser friends was hardly the
route to happiness. At least he had the joy of picking dirt out of his nose in the company of
his friends.
“How’s Neha?” Alok said.
“She’s fine. That is the only thing that keeps me in IIT,” I said.
“Yeah right. Have you gotten any further though?” Ryan said.
“Like what? I have kissed her now you know,” I said.
“Yes, but like ten years ago. And there is much more than that. You know that right? Or do
you get tongue-tied in front of her as well.”
Alok tittered.
“Screw you Ryan,” I said, “Neha is not that type of girl.”
“But you are that type of boy. So make her that way,” he said.
“How?”
“I can’t tell you everything.”
Once it was dark we decided to return to Kumaon. Time did go on, and thank god for that.
For that meant we only had so many fewer days left in this place.
“I’ll be happy when college is over,” I said.
“At least we have perfected the C2D,” Alok said.
“Of course,” Ryan said and smirked, “when was the last time each of us did his own
assignment?”
“It still scares me sometimes though,” I said.
“Why? The profs never read the crap they give us carefully. They’ll never find out,” Ryan
dismissed, cocky as ever.
“I heard Cherian is anal though,” Alok said.
We’d find out soon; it was finally time for Cherian to start teaching industrial engineering
and management or Indem.
“Yes, the bastard will teach us finally. I am not attending any of his classes,” Ryan said.
“You don’t have to. It’s Hari’s course under C2D,” Alok said and winked, “our guy wants
to impress the dad.”
“Well, at some point I do want Neha to tell her dad about me. Wouldn’t be a good start if
I skip all his classes,” I said.
“I hate him,” Ryan said simply.
No one skipped Cherian’s first class. That is, no one apart from Ryan. I was curious to see
in person the devil who tormented my girlfriend and my best friend. Others went to see the
head of the mechanical engineering department of the best engineering college in the
country. They said Cherian was a perfect 10 in his IIT student days. I didn’t know much
about the man, apart from the fact that his daughter was a perfect 10 to me.
I had reached five minutes early, and for the first time in three years, had taken a seat in
the first row. I don’t know why, but I really wanted to do well in his course. Perhaps an A in
Indem might give a good first impression, leading the way for Neha to introduce me. It just
sounded better – “Dad, meet Hari – the guy who topped your Indem course,” rather than
“Dad, meet Hari. The loser who scraped a C in your course.”
Prof Cherian walked in precisely at nine, and brought with him a huge pile of books as if
he had just robbed a library.
“Pay attention everyone. Let us start with the lecture,” he began in a firm voice.
There is something about seeing your girlfriend’s parent for the first time. I couldn’t help
but notice how Cherian was an extremely bad replica of Neha. Like her wax statue had
puffed up first and then begun to melt haphazardly. He had the same jaw and round face like
hers, however, his face was twice as big, with chunks of loose flesh hanging where Neha
had these super-smooth, taut cheeks. Instead of Neha’s long and beautiful hair, Cherian had a
bald spot bigger than a Nirula’s hamburger. If she dressed to act in a horror movie, Neha
would look like her father.
“Time and motion studies are the essence of Indem. As engineers you should be able to
reduce human actions to measurable tasks and stop talking there in the third row,” Cherian
said as he threw a piece of chalk at two students who had found a private joke too good to
resist sharing it in class.
“Meet your father-in-law,” Alok whispered.
“Looks like he can eat me alive,” I said.
Cherian heard the whispers and stopped writing on the board. He turned around and
banged a duster on the table. “No one talks for the next sixty minutes,” he pronounced in a
no-nonsense tone that would make Saddam Hussein shudder, “is that clear?”
Chalk dust formed a cloud as if Cherian had burst a grenade in the classroom. Behind
this, one could barely see his contorted face. I wondered how Neha had spent an entire life
living with him, wanting to rescue her that very instant. I thought of eloping with her, making
the escape through the roof while Cherian slept. But where would I take her? The hostel
was hardly handy, what with all of us sleeping in one room.
Cherian’s first example of time and motion study was of a shirt factory. Let us say there
were five workers, now they could either make individual shirts each, or one could divide
the shirt making tasks. For instance, the first worker could cut the cloth, the second worker
put in the first stitch, the third sews buttons and so on and so forth.
“This breakdown of tasks is called an assembly line. But you have to ensure that each
task is of equal time to avoid bottlenecks.”
Therefore, if cutting cloth took six minutes and the first stitch took three, two workers
could do the first job. “This way, you can have a fast assembly line. Workers focus and get
more skilled at their tasks. And what is more, you don’t need extra equipment – like instead
of five scissors, you need only one,” Cherian said.
It all sounded very reasonable. After all, that is what engineers should do right? Tell
workers how to work more efficiently, thinking up clever ways to save resources.
“He makes sense,” I said.
“Just take notes. Anything can come in the quiz,” Alok said.
The Fatso will remain a loser, I thought, except at nose, where his pickings were rich. I
mean, I am no great thinker or anything, but sometimes one does listen in class. All this guy
wanted to do was mug in class and puke in tests. I thought of discussing Indem with Ryan.
Sixty minutes later, Cherian put his chalk down. He modified the shirt example ten times,
to show various time and resource allocation combinations. In typical IIT fashion, the
simple example somehow converted into complex equations. The prof gave an assignment
for the next class using these equations, which meant two hours at least in the library that
night.
“Are you stupid. You found this Indem crap interesting,” Ryan said as I told him about the
class.
“Why? Think about it, instead of each person cutting and then sewing…”
“So, you want to reduce each tailor to a cloth cutter or button sewer. What are they,
bloody robots?”
“No, just being smart. See if you apply the optimization equation…”
“Screw the equation. What do you want the worker to say at home? That I made ten shirts
today? Or that I cut fifty pieces of cloth? Do you realize how mind-numbing each job willl
become?”
“That is silly,” I said, “it is about improved efficiency.”
“But what if each worker wants to make his own shirt and wants to improve the design? It
is just the same Cherian crap, treat humans like mindless machines.”
“I think you should attend his class, Ryan. I can’t explain it. He seemed to make sense.”
“Of course, he makes sense to you. You want to nail his daughter that’s why.”
“Aw, shut up, just come to class all right. It is high time you give this system a chance.”
“It’s a screwed up system, so no more chances. Now, give me the assignment so I can cog
it.”
I met Neha outside the insti gate for a walk-date. A walk-date is where you go with your
girlfriend for a long walk to get some fresh air and quality conversation, or at least you say
so. The real great thing about walk-dates is that they are free. To me, nearly broke as it was
my turn to fill Ryan’s scooter tank last time, it was the obvious choice. Neha chose the route,
a five-kilometer return trip from the campus via nearby villages.
“So, tell me. What did you think of my Dad?” Neha said as if she expected me to jump in
excitement.
“Don’t really know him, but pretty strict I think. How do you live with him?”
“You know he is really impressed by good students. I hope you are going to do well in his
course.”
“I am trying. But I have never got an A. And he gives like a dozen assignments a week.
Plus there is a viva component that I hate.”
“If you do get an A, I’ll probably tell him that we are friends.”
“Well, I am trying. Anyway, where are we walking to?”
“Just keep walking, I have a place in mind.”
I kept silent, hoping she had thought of a secluded place. That is all one wants when one
is dating, an empty place with nothing to do, no one around. Yet, you see dozens of fast-food
places, cinemas, and ice-cream parlours, all targeting the dating crowd. Why don’t they just
make rows and rows of empty rooms instead?
Neha took me through a mud-path that led to Katwaria village. A few semi-naked kids
looked at us curiously as if we were a different species. Two buffaloes loose from their
sheds were also taking an evening walk, and one seemed to follow us.
“Are you sure you know where we are going?” I asked doubtfully.
“Of course, I am. See that temple at the end of this path, over there.”
I squinted my eyes. There was a temple flag, around a kilometre away. After a while, the
buffalo following us gave up on the idea, and the two of us were alone.
We reached the temple and sat down at the parapet of the neglected steps. A stray
snoozing dog opened an eye to look at us. In front of the temple was a railway line. I
guessed it was for the Delhi ring railway, the local city train that no one really used and ran
only once every couple of hours.
“What is this temple doing in the middle of nowhere?” I said, casually picking up her
hand. The dog didn’t care, and no one else was really around.
“I think only some villagers use it on special days. But I like it here,” Neha said, leaning
against me.
We kissed, I don’t really know who started it. That is the cool thing about having a steady
girlfriend. You don’t have to struggle every time you want to kiss. But that was the farthest
you could go with Neha. I put my hand on her shoulder for support. Then in a completely
planned but seemingly unintentional manner I let it slip down toward her chest. Maybe this
time her reflexes wouldn’t be as strong.
“No!” Neha said the moment it got interesting. She pushed me away and sat up.
“You are so beautiful,” I said, trying to be as mellow as possible.
“Shut up,” she said and giggled, “your corny lines aren’t going to get you anywhere. Have
some shame, we are near a temple.”
Yeah right, I thought. As if kissing next to a temple was okay but somehow the classic
‘slide the hand carelessly down’ was not. Neha, I tell you, is the queen of contradictions.
I tried to get close to her again, it was useless to argue.
“Just kisses. You know this is wrong,” she warned.
We did our making out, or rather me-trying-to-make-out routine for half an hour, after
which she had to go home or something. We stood up, threw the dog a last glance and started
walking back.
“Do you know my brother died on those tracks?” she said.
I hadn’t really heard much about how her brother died. Gory stories kind of just put me
off but I guess guys have to listen to their girlfriends. “Really? No, I didn’t know. How did
it happen?”
“I still remember the date, May 11. Bhaiyya had gone for a jog. We got the call midmorning.
I mean, Dad got the call. He told us only in the evening and I …wasn’t even
allowed to go see the body.” Her voice began to quiver.
We were nearing the village, so I wasn’t sure if I should let her cry on my shoulder. But
she herself chose to, and I couldn’t do much.
“Neha, it’s okay,” I said, conscious of two urchins staring at us. The only time they had
probably seen a guy and a girl embrace was on screen.
She only moved away from me when the number of kids watching us had gone up to eight.
“Wow, now where did they come from?” She wiped her eyes. The eight kids, mostly
naked, looked at us intently as if they were watching a film.
“See, she is a heroine,” I said to the kids.
“Raveena Tandon,” said a three-year old in the crowd.
Neha started to laugh, much to my relief, given her moods tended to be long.
We walked further, until we came close enough to campus where we adopted separate
paths.
“Perhaps I can introduce you as his course topper to him some day.” She winked, walking
ahead.
I waited the prescribed five minutes and then headed for campus. Was I in love with her?
I kicked a pebble out of my way; if only she wouldn’t be so good all the time!
Re: Five Point Someone What not to do at IIT Novel Chetan Bh
14
—
Vodka
ALOK RETURNED HYPER-HARRIED FROM HOME.
“How are your dad and mom?” I asked, alerted by his unusual silence at Sasi’s, not even
asking what the daily specials were.
“Miserable as usual. There was another big drama at home last weekend. There’s yet
another suitable match for my sister but we can’t cough up the suitable money. Hence, either
we say no or sign IOUs, meaning give it later when I pass out of the insti, get a job and then
pay for it.”
“That’s tough,” Ryan noted, who had just joined us after waking up from his royal siesta.
“But it is my duty man and I love them. I don’t see it as trouble,” Alok said dully.
“So what job are you going to take up?” I said.
“Whichever pays the most, I don’t care,” Alok said.
“That is crap. Don’t you want to do something you really like?”
“I like money,” Alok said as he finished his food. Until he had the money, paranthas
would do.
We were mid-way through the semester now, and every now and then I would start
thinking about my goal – to do well in Indem. By third year, ever y IITian knows his place.
We were now five-pointers frozen in our place; we had modest expectations, and our grades
never disappointed us. However, in Indem I wanted an A, something that had never been on
my grade sheet. Alok warned me about my lofty ambition. “Cherian will chew you alive
man. You hardly sleep these days. You know he gives only two or three As, right?”
“I do. But I have to give it my best. It is not just a stupid grade, but Neha at stake.”
“How much have you scored so far in the assignments?”
“Thirty-three out of forty. Worked like a dog on all of them.”
“Yes right. You need eighty total to get an A.”
“I know, out of that the viva is ten, and the major is fifty.”
“So unless you get almost a full score in the majors, you have to do decently in the
vivas.”
“I know. So this time, I have to pull it through,” I said, abjectly nervous at the thought.
“Just relax man, a B won’t be that bad.”
“An A Alok, I want an A.”
“Fine then. All the best,” Alok said as Sasi delivered more paranthas.
“How is your girl?” Ryan said.
“Neha is fine. Just took me to the place where her brother met with the accident. Isn’t that
weird?” I said.
“Maybe because you are special. And the place holds special meaning for her,” Alok
shrugged.
“Fatso is right. She likes you man,” Ryan said. “When did her brother die anyway?”
“Around three years ago. May 11 to be precise. He had gone jogging when they got a call
mid-morning, hit by a ring railway train.”
“Wow, that is incredible,” Alok said, “and I thought no one used the ring railway.”
“He wasn’t using it Fatso. He just got hit by it,” Ryan clarified.
“Yes, pretty gory.” I rolled my eyes.
“Though who goes jogging on a bloody hot May morning?” Ryan wanted to know.
“Shut up man. The guy is dead, and you are making fun of him,” I protested.
“No. That is not what I mean. I mean, hey Fatso, what time does the first ring railway
train run?”
“I don’t know,” Alok said, busy eating his paranthas and somewhat pissed at the frequent
reference to him as Fatso.
“I know, ten I think. Why?” I said.
“Well, think about it, ten in the morning in May. I think it is close to forty degrees and
crap hot. Who goes jogging on a May morning?”
“Well, he did. Otherwise he wouldn’t have died, right?” Alok said, obviously irritated.
He never went jogging, so I guess he didn’t know better.
“I know he died. But my point is…” Ryan said, “anyway, forget it.”
“What? I want to know,” I said.
“My point is, was it an accident at all.”
I woke up with a headache on the day of Cherian’s viva. There were a couple of weeks left
until the majors, but today would seal my Indem fate. “Try to sleep, try to sleep,” I had told
myself about a million times the night before, all to no use.
“God, you look a mess,” Ryan greeted in the toilet as we were shaving together.
“Couldn’t sleep much. Hell, I know I am going to screw this one up,” I said and slapped
water on my face.
Ryan pressed the nozzle of his Gillette shaving gel and prepared his twin-blade sensor
razor. His parents had sent him all these contraptions to look even better as if the guy
needed to improve his looks. Why couldn’t he get a few pimples now and again like say
Alok?
“Listen Hari,” Ryan said making clean strokes across his cheek, “you have busted your
ass for this course already. You mess this up, and there is no hope for you man. You
probably know the answers better than anyone else.”
“Since when has knowing the answers been a problem? And this is Cherian, even normal
guys get scared,” I said.
“See, I am not even going for his viva. But if you are so scared, I have an idea.”
“You aren’t coming? Ryan, it is ten percent. And Cherian will go ape-shit if a student
doesn’t even come to the viva.”
“I have vowed not to view that bastard’s face as much as I can. And who cares about ten
percent, I don’t have to impress the dad.”
“Up to you. I still think you should come. Anyway, what is your idea?”
“I don’t know if it will work.”
“Just tell me man. I am desperate,” I said.
Ryan wiped his face with a towel. He opened a bottle of some fancy overpriced
American aftershave and splashed it liberally on his cheeks.
“Vodka: the solution to all problems.”
“What? Vodka? I am talking about a viva Ryan, I am not organizing a party.”
“I know. But you know how vodka makes one less inhibited and makes you talk more?
Who knows, a couple of swigs and it may work for you.”
“You are crazy. The viva is at eleven in the morning. It is hardly the time to drink...”
“If you get a zero in his viva, you think Neha will ever introduce you to daddy?”
The image of a zero and a B or C in Indem flashed across my mind. “How much?”
“Just a couple of shots. Come, I have some in my closet.”
I went to Ryan’s room where amidst branded clothes he hid his stash of alcohol.
Alongside the bottle were envelopes, all with US stamps.
Ryan poured vodka in a steel glass, making it a third-full.
“What are those envelopes?” I said.
“Nothing. Here, one shot…one, two, three,” Ryan said.
I couldn’t believe the envelopes were unimportant. I mean, there were like a hundred of
them literally.
“Letters from your parents, aren’t they?” I hazarded a guess.
“Yeah. Here have another one,” Ryan said.
“You sure this won’t be too much?” I said.
“No. In fact have a third one just to be sure. Here, I’ll accompany you.”
With that, Ryan joined me in my third shot. The vodka went down like a fireball, hitting
my empty stomach, spearing my intestines.
“All right then, off I go to meet the daddy,” I said cheerfully.
“All the best, Hari. And listen, just don’t tell Alok about the envelopes.”
“Tell what?” I said. I hardly knew anything about them and I wouldn’t have if Ryan hadn’t
mentioned it.
“Nothing, just don’t mention it. They write ever y week, and send a cheque once a month.
I never reply, that is all.”
“Why don’t you reply?” I asked, basking in the spirit inside of me.
“’Cause I hate them. Actually, I don’t care about them. I mean, neither do they about me.
So why pretend?”
Ryan said. “Ryan, you know this whole big deal you make about not caring about your
parents?” the vodka spoke for me.
“Yeah, what about that?”
“I don’t think it is true. I mean, how can it be true?” I said, ignoring his hostile stance. I
kind of meant it. With all the Gillette and aftershaves they sent, how could he not love them?
“It’s true. You are a kid in life man, just go give your viva,” Ryan said and lit up a
cigarette. Smoke made the man more profound.
“I am going. But if it were true, why would you keep all the letters?” I asked, beating a
retreat.
Cherian was already in class. My turn came in ten minutes and I sat next to Alok.
“Where is Ryan?” he whispered, flipping through his notes. Alok always revises until the
last minute.
“He is skipping it,” I said.
“What? He is crazy man,” he shook his head.
“Says he doesn’t care. Just as he doesn’t for his parents,” I said, obviously the second
phrase came because of the vodka.
“Are you okay, Hari? You sound kind of garbled. And what is that smell…wait have you
been drinking?”
“Shh...keep quiet. Just a little bit. Ryan said it helps relax.”
“Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Do you ever think for yourself?” Alok said.
“Hari,” Prof Cherian called my name even before I could answer Alok. My moment was
here. My first A was to be decided in the next five minutes.
“So, what is the Japanese system for manufacturing that lowers inventories?” Prof
Cherian started as usual without any greetings or pleasantries. Just a straight firm voice like
from a machine.
“Good morning, sir,” I said.
“Good morning, Hari. Now answer my question.” His eyes looked like big, bulging
versions of Neha’s eyes.
“Good morning, sir,” I said again, to kick-start my brain.
“That is fine, Hari. Now answer please, if you don’t mind.”
“Sir, the Japanese inventory lowering system…” I began.
“Yes, that one. You know the answer or not?” Prof Cherian said, his voice getting louder.
“I sir….I sir…” I said.
“It is JIT or Just in Time. Cannot believe students today cannot answer such simple
questions. Next one, what is the difference between assembly line and batch
manufacturing?”
“Sir, very simple question sir…hic,” I said.
“Why are you talking like that? And what is this smell? Are you drunk Mr Hari? Are you
drunk in my class?”
“No sir, sir, I actually know answer, sir,” I reiterated desperately.
“You are actually drunk. The guts of these students today!” Prof Cherian said and threw a
piece of chalk right at me. It hit me on the chest and hurt a little. Even though I was drunk, I
knew something was going wrong. I was actually speaking at this viva, but not making any
sense.
“Sir,” I said.
“Get out of my class now. Get out now.” Prof Cherian’s face turned red and he slammed
his files on the desk.
I picked up my notebook to leave when Cherian came toward me. He took out a red pen
and marked a circle on my sheet. Then he made another circle over it.
“Zero, that is what you deserve. I wish I could give you negative,” he said, “and you
better do well in your majors for I am not going to let you get away from this that easy.”
I kept quiet. All those shots for a zero, which I could have earned myself anyway with or
without vodka.
“Fuck!” Ryan slammed a fist against his palm when he heard the story back in Kumaon.
“What fuck? Who told you to suggest such a weird idea?” Alok said.
“I thought it would work but the shots were too big,” Ryan said. He was playing with a
basketball, bouncing it back and forth on the wall.
“Will you cut out that noise?” Alok said, “So what are you going to do now Hari?”
“Do what? I lose the A for sure. And Cherian thinks I’m a drunkard. Way to go for his
daughter’s boyfriend,” I said, covering my face with my hands.
Thump, thump, thump. Ryan kept silent as the only noise he made was with the ball.
“Stop it,” Alok said, grabbing the ball from Ryan, “say something solid now!”
“Alok!” someone shouted from outside. It was the security guard downstairs.
“Phone call for Alok,” the guard shouted.
“Must be from home,” Alok said, “Come Hari, no point discussing Indem now.”
I came down with Alok if for nothing else but to be distracted from the Indem fiasco.
“Hello, Mummy. How are you? Yes, I know I have not come home for a long time,” Alok
said on the phone.
“What? Didi got engaged? Oh, you mean the boy’s side have agreed,” Alok said, his
voice excited.
“Yes, I am really happy, how is Dad…I know…of course I’ll pay for everything once I
get a job Mom…yes, you are taking a loan for gifts…”
I could hear only half the conversation, but could pretty much figure out what was going
on. Alok’s parents had finally managed to palm off their daughter to someone. As he
explained later, the groom’s family wanted a Maruti car in dowry, but had agreed to defer it
until Alok passed out and started working. That’s when the marriage would take place but at
least they had a deal.
“Congratulations, your sister is getting married. Is your family excited? Or like sad or
something since she’ll go away?” I said to Alok after the call.
“They are relieved more than anything I think. I just hope I get a job that pays for this
damn affair. Apart from the car, there will be a function as well.”
“Why don’t you guys marry her off later? What is the big hurry?”
“The older she gets, the more dowry people will demand. Waiting will mean more
expense later. I’m happy the deal is cut.”
It sounded like credit card debt. If you don’t get rid of it now, it will cost you a lot more
later. The relief was understandable.
“What does the groom do?” I said.
“Oh. I don’t know. I forgot to ask,” Alok said.
Several weeks later, we were in the Kumaon mess eating dinner. It was Thursday I guess,
for that is when Kumaon had ‘continental’ dinner. In reality, it was just an excuse for messworkers
to not give us real food. The menu sounded nice – noodles, French fries, toast and
soup. It tasted awful. The cooks made the noodles in superglue or something – they stuck to
each other as one composite mass in the huge serving pan. The French fries were cold and
either extremely undercooked or burnt to taste like coal. The cream of mushroom soup could
have been mistaken for muddy water, only it was warmer and saltier.
“This is bad man,” Alok said as his noodles refused to vacate his fork, “I told you let’s
go out.”
“I didn’t know it would be so bad. And the semester is almost over. I am totally out of
cash.”
“That is right actually,” Alok said, “better start studying for the majors. Less than ten days
now.”
“Yes, not that I care now. After Indem messed up, I don’t really care beyond passing each
course.”
“Ryan, I think you should focus on Indem. Cherian didn’t like you missing the viva. He
smirks when he mentions your name in class attendance.”
“I know,” Ryan said, dropping his half-eaten French fry in disgust, “I got sixteen out of
forty in quizzes and zero in viva. Need twenty-four out of fifty in majors to pass it.”
“Not that easy,” I pointed out the obvious.
“Worse case, I flunk. So what?” Ryan said and tried the soup. Without caring for
etiquette, he spewed the contents out from his mouth back into the bowl.
“Cherian will make you do it again, it’s a core course,” Alok said. “Like drinking the
soup you just spat out.”
“Fuck,” Ryan said. I wasn’t sure if his comment was aimed at the food or the prospect of
repeating Cherian’s course.
“Man, if only I had an A, I could finally get Neha…” I said.
“I think we can still do something,” Ryan said.
“What? Drink enough to forget Neha?” I mocked.
“No. If you completely crack the majors, you can still make it, right?”
“I have thirty-three on forty, need eighty for an A. Major is fifty points. How am I going to
get forty-seven on fifty?”
“No way man. Ryan, don’t trouble the guy more. It is over.”
“It is not over, my friends, it never is. If I tell you that you can get a perfect score in
majors, will you believe me?”
“Don’t be crazy. I’d have to spend twenty hours a day on Indem and will probably not
make it. Cherian’s major test will be full of surprise questions. I am screwed…” I lamented.
“What if you knew the questions?” Ryan said.
“What if, what if? Ryan, are you dreaming?” Alok said.
“No I am not dreaming, Fatso. I am trying to help my friend. I think we can get the major
paper.”
“How?” I was arrested.
“By sneaking it out of Cherian’s office,” Ryan said.
Alok and I fell silent for a full minute, took us around that much time to digest the
preposterousness of the idea, along with the unpalatable food.
“You mean steal it? Steal a bloody major paper from an IIT prof? Is that what you said?”
Alok said.
“Don’t make it sound so dramatic. It is not such a big…”
“Are you nuts? Tell me, are you nuts?” Alok said and walked out of the mess. I went out
as well, preoccupied with my coming encounter with Neha, especially with how I could
dismiss my past encounter with daddy dearest.
—
Vodka
ALOK RETURNED HYPER-HARRIED FROM HOME.
“How are your dad and mom?” I asked, alerted by his unusual silence at Sasi’s, not even
asking what the daily specials were.
“Miserable as usual. There was another big drama at home last weekend. There’s yet
another suitable match for my sister but we can’t cough up the suitable money. Hence, either
we say no or sign IOUs, meaning give it later when I pass out of the insti, get a job and then
pay for it.”
“That’s tough,” Ryan noted, who had just joined us after waking up from his royal siesta.
“But it is my duty man and I love them. I don’t see it as trouble,” Alok said dully.
“So what job are you going to take up?” I said.
“Whichever pays the most, I don’t care,” Alok said.
“That is crap. Don’t you want to do something you really like?”
“I like money,” Alok said as he finished his food. Until he had the money, paranthas
would do.
We were mid-way through the semester now, and every now and then I would start
thinking about my goal – to do well in Indem. By third year, ever y IITian knows his place.
We were now five-pointers frozen in our place; we had modest expectations, and our grades
never disappointed us. However, in Indem I wanted an A, something that had never been on
my grade sheet. Alok warned me about my lofty ambition. “Cherian will chew you alive
man. You hardly sleep these days. You know he gives only two or three As, right?”
“I do. But I have to give it my best. It is not just a stupid grade, but Neha at stake.”
“How much have you scored so far in the assignments?”
“Thirty-three out of forty. Worked like a dog on all of them.”
“Yes right. You need eighty total to get an A.”
“I know, out of that the viva is ten, and the major is fifty.”
“So unless you get almost a full score in the majors, you have to do decently in the
vivas.”
“I know. So this time, I have to pull it through,” I said, abjectly nervous at the thought.
“Just relax man, a B won’t be that bad.”
“An A Alok, I want an A.”
“Fine then. All the best,” Alok said as Sasi delivered more paranthas.
“How is your girl?” Ryan said.
“Neha is fine. Just took me to the place where her brother met with the accident. Isn’t that
weird?” I said.
“Maybe because you are special. And the place holds special meaning for her,” Alok
shrugged.
“Fatso is right. She likes you man,” Ryan said. “When did her brother die anyway?”
“Around three years ago. May 11 to be precise. He had gone jogging when they got a call
mid-morning, hit by a ring railway train.”
“Wow, that is incredible,” Alok said, “and I thought no one used the ring railway.”
“He wasn’t using it Fatso. He just got hit by it,” Ryan clarified.
“Yes, pretty gory.” I rolled my eyes.
“Though who goes jogging on a bloody hot May morning?” Ryan wanted to know.
“Shut up man. The guy is dead, and you are making fun of him,” I protested.
“No. That is not what I mean. I mean, hey Fatso, what time does the first ring railway
train run?”
“I don’t know,” Alok said, busy eating his paranthas and somewhat pissed at the frequent
reference to him as Fatso.
“I know, ten I think. Why?” I said.
“Well, think about it, ten in the morning in May. I think it is close to forty degrees and
crap hot. Who goes jogging on a May morning?”
“Well, he did. Otherwise he wouldn’t have died, right?” Alok said, obviously irritated.
He never went jogging, so I guess he didn’t know better.
“I know he died. But my point is…” Ryan said, “anyway, forget it.”
“What? I want to know,” I said.
“My point is, was it an accident at all.”
I woke up with a headache on the day of Cherian’s viva. There were a couple of weeks left
until the majors, but today would seal my Indem fate. “Try to sleep, try to sleep,” I had told
myself about a million times the night before, all to no use.
“God, you look a mess,” Ryan greeted in the toilet as we were shaving together.
“Couldn’t sleep much. Hell, I know I am going to screw this one up,” I said and slapped
water on my face.
Ryan pressed the nozzle of his Gillette shaving gel and prepared his twin-blade sensor
razor. His parents had sent him all these contraptions to look even better as if the guy
needed to improve his looks. Why couldn’t he get a few pimples now and again like say
Alok?
“Listen Hari,” Ryan said making clean strokes across his cheek, “you have busted your
ass for this course already. You mess this up, and there is no hope for you man. You
probably know the answers better than anyone else.”
“Since when has knowing the answers been a problem? And this is Cherian, even normal
guys get scared,” I said.
“See, I am not even going for his viva. But if you are so scared, I have an idea.”
“You aren’t coming? Ryan, it is ten percent. And Cherian will go ape-shit if a student
doesn’t even come to the viva.”
“I have vowed not to view that bastard’s face as much as I can. And who cares about ten
percent, I don’t have to impress the dad.”
“Up to you. I still think you should come. Anyway, what is your idea?”
“I don’t know if it will work.”
“Just tell me man. I am desperate,” I said.
Ryan wiped his face with a towel. He opened a bottle of some fancy overpriced
American aftershave and splashed it liberally on his cheeks.
“Vodka: the solution to all problems.”
“What? Vodka? I am talking about a viva Ryan, I am not organizing a party.”
“I know. But you know how vodka makes one less inhibited and makes you talk more?
Who knows, a couple of swigs and it may work for you.”
“You are crazy. The viva is at eleven in the morning. It is hardly the time to drink...”
“If you get a zero in his viva, you think Neha will ever introduce you to daddy?”
The image of a zero and a B or C in Indem flashed across my mind. “How much?”
“Just a couple of shots. Come, I have some in my closet.”
I went to Ryan’s room where amidst branded clothes he hid his stash of alcohol.
Alongside the bottle were envelopes, all with US stamps.
Ryan poured vodka in a steel glass, making it a third-full.
“What are those envelopes?” I said.
“Nothing. Here, one shot…one, two, three,” Ryan said.
I couldn’t believe the envelopes were unimportant. I mean, there were like a hundred of
them literally.
“Letters from your parents, aren’t they?” I hazarded a guess.
“Yeah. Here have another one,” Ryan said.
“You sure this won’t be too much?” I said.
“No. In fact have a third one just to be sure. Here, I’ll accompany you.”
With that, Ryan joined me in my third shot. The vodka went down like a fireball, hitting
my empty stomach, spearing my intestines.
“All right then, off I go to meet the daddy,” I said cheerfully.
“All the best, Hari. And listen, just don’t tell Alok about the envelopes.”
“Tell what?” I said. I hardly knew anything about them and I wouldn’t have if Ryan hadn’t
mentioned it.
“Nothing, just don’t mention it. They write ever y week, and send a cheque once a month.
I never reply, that is all.”
“Why don’t you reply?” I asked, basking in the spirit inside of me.
“’Cause I hate them. Actually, I don’t care about them. I mean, neither do they about me.
So why pretend?”
Ryan said. “Ryan, you know this whole big deal you make about not caring about your
parents?” the vodka spoke for me.
“Yeah, what about that?”
“I don’t think it is true. I mean, how can it be true?” I said, ignoring his hostile stance. I
kind of meant it. With all the Gillette and aftershaves they sent, how could he not love them?
“It’s true. You are a kid in life man, just go give your viva,” Ryan said and lit up a
cigarette. Smoke made the man more profound.
“I am going. But if it were true, why would you keep all the letters?” I asked, beating a
retreat.
Cherian was already in class. My turn came in ten minutes and I sat next to Alok.
“Where is Ryan?” he whispered, flipping through his notes. Alok always revises until the
last minute.
“He is skipping it,” I said.
“What? He is crazy man,” he shook his head.
“Says he doesn’t care. Just as he doesn’t for his parents,” I said, obviously the second
phrase came because of the vodka.
“Are you okay, Hari? You sound kind of garbled. And what is that smell…wait have you
been drinking?”
“Shh...keep quiet. Just a little bit. Ryan said it helps relax.”
“Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Do you ever think for yourself?” Alok said.
“Hari,” Prof Cherian called my name even before I could answer Alok. My moment was
here. My first A was to be decided in the next five minutes.
“So, what is the Japanese system for manufacturing that lowers inventories?” Prof
Cherian started as usual without any greetings or pleasantries. Just a straight firm voice like
from a machine.
“Good morning, sir,” I said.
“Good morning, Hari. Now answer my question.” His eyes looked like big, bulging
versions of Neha’s eyes.
“Good morning, sir,” I said again, to kick-start my brain.
“That is fine, Hari. Now answer please, if you don’t mind.”
“Sir, the Japanese inventory lowering system…” I began.
“Yes, that one. You know the answer or not?” Prof Cherian said, his voice getting louder.
“I sir….I sir…” I said.
“It is JIT or Just in Time. Cannot believe students today cannot answer such simple
questions. Next one, what is the difference between assembly line and batch
manufacturing?”
“Sir, very simple question sir…hic,” I said.
“Why are you talking like that? And what is this smell? Are you drunk Mr Hari? Are you
drunk in my class?”
“No sir, sir, I actually know answer, sir,” I reiterated desperately.
“You are actually drunk. The guts of these students today!” Prof Cherian said and threw a
piece of chalk right at me. It hit me on the chest and hurt a little. Even though I was drunk, I
knew something was going wrong. I was actually speaking at this viva, but not making any
sense.
“Sir,” I said.
“Get out of my class now. Get out now.” Prof Cherian’s face turned red and he slammed
his files on the desk.
I picked up my notebook to leave when Cherian came toward me. He took out a red pen
and marked a circle on my sheet. Then he made another circle over it.
“Zero, that is what you deserve. I wish I could give you negative,” he said, “and you
better do well in your majors for I am not going to let you get away from this that easy.”
I kept quiet. All those shots for a zero, which I could have earned myself anyway with or
without vodka.
“Fuck!” Ryan slammed a fist against his palm when he heard the story back in Kumaon.
“What fuck? Who told you to suggest such a weird idea?” Alok said.
“I thought it would work but the shots were too big,” Ryan said. He was playing with a
basketball, bouncing it back and forth on the wall.
“Will you cut out that noise?” Alok said, “So what are you going to do now Hari?”
“Do what? I lose the A for sure. And Cherian thinks I’m a drunkard. Way to go for his
daughter’s boyfriend,” I said, covering my face with my hands.
Thump, thump, thump. Ryan kept silent as the only noise he made was with the ball.
“Stop it,” Alok said, grabbing the ball from Ryan, “say something solid now!”
“Alok!” someone shouted from outside. It was the security guard downstairs.
“Phone call for Alok,” the guard shouted.
“Must be from home,” Alok said, “Come Hari, no point discussing Indem now.”
I came down with Alok if for nothing else but to be distracted from the Indem fiasco.
“Hello, Mummy. How are you? Yes, I know I have not come home for a long time,” Alok
said on the phone.
“What? Didi got engaged? Oh, you mean the boy’s side have agreed,” Alok said, his
voice excited.
“Yes, I am really happy, how is Dad…I know…of course I’ll pay for everything once I
get a job Mom…yes, you are taking a loan for gifts…”
I could hear only half the conversation, but could pretty much figure out what was going
on. Alok’s parents had finally managed to palm off their daughter to someone. As he
explained later, the groom’s family wanted a Maruti car in dowry, but had agreed to defer it
until Alok passed out and started working. That’s when the marriage would take place but at
least they had a deal.
“Congratulations, your sister is getting married. Is your family excited? Or like sad or
something since she’ll go away?” I said to Alok after the call.
“They are relieved more than anything I think. I just hope I get a job that pays for this
damn affair. Apart from the car, there will be a function as well.”
“Why don’t you guys marry her off later? What is the big hurry?”
“The older she gets, the more dowry people will demand. Waiting will mean more
expense later. I’m happy the deal is cut.”
It sounded like credit card debt. If you don’t get rid of it now, it will cost you a lot more
later. The relief was understandable.
“What does the groom do?” I said.
“Oh. I don’t know. I forgot to ask,” Alok said.
Several weeks later, we were in the Kumaon mess eating dinner. It was Thursday I guess,
for that is when Kumaon had ‘continental’ dinner. In reality, it was just an excuse for messworkers
to not give us real food. The menu sounded nice – noodles, French fries, toast and
soup. It tasted awful. The cooks made the noodles in superglue or something – they stuck to
each other as one composite mass in the huge serving pan. The French fries were cold and
either extremely undercooked or burnt to taste like coal. The cream of mushroom soup could
have been mistaken for muddy water, only it was warmer and saltier.
“This is bad man,” Alok said as his noodles refused to vacate his fork, “I told you let’s
go out.”
“I didn’t know it would be so bad. And the semester is almost over. I am totally out of
cash.”
“That is right actually,” Alok said, “better start studying for the majors. Less than ten days
now.”
“Yes, not that I care now. After Indem messed up, I don’t really care beyond passing each
course.”
“Ryan, I think you should focus on Indem. Cherian didn’t like you missing the viva. He
smirks when he mentions your name in class attendance.”
“I know,” Ryan said, dropping his half-eaten French fry in disgust, “I got sixteen out of
forty in quizzes and zero in viva. Need twenty-four out of fifty in majors to pass it.”
“Not that easy,” I pointed out the obvious.
“Worse case, I flunk. So what?” Ryan said and tried the soup. Without caring for
etiquette, he spewed the contents out from his mouth back into the bowl.
“Cherian will make you do it again, it’s a core course,” Alok said. “Like drinking the
soup you just spat out.”
“Fuck,” Ryan said. I wasn’t sure if his comment was aimed at the food or the prospect of
repeating Cherian’s course.
“Man, if only I had an A, I could finally get Neha…” I said.
“I think we can still do something,” Ryan said.
“What? Drink enough to forget Neha?” I mocked.
“No. If you completely crack the majors, you can still make it, right?”
“I have thirty-three on forty, need eighty for an A. Major is fifty points. How am I going to
get forty-seven on fifty?”
“No way man. Ryan, don’t trouble the guy more. It is over.”
“It is not over, my friends, it never is. If I tell you that you can get a perfect score in
majors, will you believe me?”
“Don’t be crazy. I’d have to spend twenty hours a day on Indem and will probably not
make it. Cherian’s major test will be full of surprise questions. I am screwed…” I lamented.
“What if you knew the questions?” Ryan said.
“What if, what if? Ryan, are you dreaming?” Alok said.
“No I am not dreaming, Fatso. I am trying to help my friend. I think we can get the major
paper.”
“How?” I was arrested.
“By sneaking it out of Cherian’s office,” Ryan said.
Alok and I fell silent for a full minute, took us around that much time to digest the
preposterousness of the idea, along with the unpalatable food.
“You mean steal it? Steal a bloody major paper from an IIT prof? Is that what you said?”
Alok said.
“Don’t make it sound so dramatic. It is not such a big…”
“Are you nuts? Tell me, are you nuts?” Alok said and walked out of the mess. I went out
as well, preoccupied with my coming encounter with Neha, especially with how I could
dismiss my past encounter with daddy dearest.