Disastrous Friday

It’s Saturday morning. I lay on my bed tired, worn out and mentally strained. No – I haven’t lost my job. I didn’t loose my girl. I am not ill. Guess what – its appalling upshot of a movie. And I am sure I am not alone who endured this movie. It reads ‘Lagaa Chunari Mein daag’ – Sounds like a napkin ad.

Friday night – Where is the beer? Ah – forget it, Weight Considerations! It’s been long since I watched a movie in the theatre. Why not hit the hall with friends and watch a movie and enjoy the evening. Disastrous judgment it turned out to be! Tickets weren’t available for movies which we wanted to watch. Hence, we picked an ‘apparently imposing’ movie on female rights (Apology for twisting the phrase Human Rights). Cool – Once in a time, you got to watch such movies to understand the contemporary psyche of woman. It may help you comprehend their whimsicalities, or otherwise.

Tickets in our pockets, we were in the hall sitting in the front row. Ads went by, and then the much awaited movie begun. A superfluous song to be witnessed at the start and was followed by the grievances of a family headed by spineless old coward. And then emerges our heroine, who has the resolution to become a man, as in, to stand up for her family and support them (And you thought of a sex change Operation – Didn’t ya?). She comes down to the town of opportunities – Mumbai. And, she is manipulated to an extent where she opts to be a prostitute. And the tricky transition is effected by a true friend, who drives her to the hotel even after knowing the consequences. And there is this female who could convince her to become a prostitute in her second meeting – God, she is got to be one good negotiator. Maybe our government could use her for settling issues with its neighbors. And the main catalyst is none other than the mother of our girl. Woh – State of affairs can’t be any pressing.

No brothels, no pimps. All her business runs on the phone. From nowhere she owns a pricy chauffeur driven 4-wheeler. Man – She is affluent now, residing in a plush villa and credit goes to her thriving business. Phew - No wonder, it’s the oldest trade on earth.

In the meantime, her sis comes down after completing her MBA (Now the film industry gets commercially liable). And she breaks the silence of a staff meeting with her bespoke elucidation of how a beauty product is to be portrayed. Man! The books on brand marketing should be buried till we have such glittering brilliance on offer. She impresses her boss and wins a trip of romance somewhere in Italy. Who cares about the beauty product? Let’s romance under the sun, on the beach and drive through the splendid scenic roads. That’s bollywood at its best.

Another character of reverence is a man whose heart is as big as anyone. He accepts our lady wholeheartedly without a smirk on his face as he is fully aware of her trade, but also has the eyes to see the poise in her. Alice and her Wonderland – I need to read it once more to get my hold on this.

Too much of anything isn’t good. And too much of bullshit is definitely not what I look out on a weekend. The ordeal ended with a typical ‘happy ending’. It’s over. It turned out to be a real test of endurance, fortitude and self-control. It takes a lot to be there and watch it. But I made it. I survive. Who cares a rat’s ass about the agonizing journey of a woman?

Lessons learnt:

1. Let others stand the test of any movie before you jump in. Don’t be ‘The guinea pig’. It’s good not to be proactive at times.

2. If you don’t get to watch the movie of your choice, get back home and slouch on the couch. Trust me – It’s the best option.

Dedication to work – With a new meaning!

For starters – I break my leg in an ugly bike accident, as a drunken jerk rams into my bullet. My leg was in its worst shape, but it pained me more on seeing my bike shaped into an inimitable piece of art – An artist’s creation if I needed to be sardonic. I was in the hospital for a few days and here I am looking better after three weeks of bed rest.

In the first week, I was teleported to my hometown and I was taken to the family doc who specializes in orthopedics – fortunately for me. The man I am referring to is an octogenarian and has been the consultant for us over the past two decades – Reason – My mom’s back. He also happens to a ‘Once upon a time neighbor’ and so we share more than doc-patient relationship. To speak about his professional prowess, he is the one of those to receive scores of awards from the medical colleges and not many showpieces were required to decorate the hall as these tributes took up most of the space. So, I bet the knowledge he has on bones and muscles to be phenomenal. His communication is telegraphic to say the least. He hasn’t changed his way of speaking and when my mom called him up on a Sunday for an appointment, all he had to instruct was something like this. ‘Avinash + The X-rays + Dispatch Summary at my place at 4’.

And as the evening arrived I was at his place. A sports freak he is, I found him watching a cricket match in his loose shirt and pajamas and bathroom slippers. As I walked in, he inspected my gait and asked me stretch on the make shift bed. I explained the regular details about the event that has got me bed-ridden. He didn’t seem very impressed and then he pulled out the x-ray and keenly studied them for a few seconds and then let out an exclamation of satisfaction, which was explicitly cited that my leg would be fine in some time to come. Then he was busy studying the dispatch summary which was provided by the hospital. He forgot about the game for a brief period. I then asked him for any changes in the medicines that were prescribed. He went inside to get a writing pad and I was sure that he was going to give me a fresh dose of pills to recover faster. Who wants to be bed-ridden for 3 more weeks? I want to be up and running within a week. Unfortunately, this wasn’t to happen. He scribbled something on his pad and kept it to himself. He asked me to discontinue some medicines and that’s about it.

When I asked about the piece that he had scribbled, I got the most surprising answer. He said, that he got reminded of a medical term that was quoted in the dispatch summary which he had forgotten a few days back and to remind himself he wanted to document it. Here is an octogenarian who would scribble things about his profession with trembling hands and to go through it with his visually impaired spectacled eyes. This speaks of unadulterated dedication at an age where one would get tired of the knowledge amassed in a professional experience spanning for half a century or more.

Hats off to you old man and a salute to your perseverance & dedication to work;
And the enthusiasm and allegiance that sees nothing as a barrier – Even age!

Is it maturity gained or innocence lost?

I would rather address it as a loss of innocence. And here, my definition of innocence connotes a blissfully unaware attitude towards the man-made strictures in life. As a kid, we never worried about what ‘people’ around us would think about the way we are. And this is due to lack of knowledge about the world around us. And while trotting the path into the mid-age crisis, I cannot afford to live with this ignorance towards my surroundings. Eventually, I would then be labeled as a mentally unstable being.

As we grow, we are made more aware of our surroundings. And it then translates into responsiveness and conscious approach towards the ways of life. But then, why do we always retrospect on our past and wonder how good those days were? Is it because we are forced to exercise control over what we are now? How many times nowadays do we express ecstasy once we have experienced it? How many times we give out a shriek, when we meet a long lost friend? How many times you hug a dear one when you feel good about that person? How often do you honestly accept the fact that you don’t know anything about things that are discussed in a forum? How many times do you apologize genuinely when you are wrong? How often do you dance like crazy forgetting what’s around you?

I guess it’s because of many more reasons why purity doesn’t stand the test of time. Ego has its own role to play coupled with pressures applied by our own folks around. But is it worth in some cases to have these demands overwhelm your own innocent self? Is it always required to be restrained with folks around you whose existence doesn’t even have any bearing on you? The answer lies in appropriately segregating folks between voluntarily tolerable and involuntarily tolerable. The latter are those with whom we have to indulge for reasons best known to us. Restrained, restricted, reserved, undemonstrated are terms that come into my mind when I am with them. Many of my own relatives form an integral part of this singular group. The former are those with whom you love to be with. An unpretentious approach is the attribute of this relationship. These are folks who would willfully complement you with any kind of instrument readily accessible when you are seriously slaughtering a song. These are people who would encourage you to do what you feel. Make you feel that you are the best. And here there is no compromise on innocence.

Wake me up – Try, you wouldn’t come near me anymore

The biggest hurdle in my life, nowadays, is not anything that I cannot help. It is not that I don’t pay heed to it. Rather when I want to resolve this quandary, I am asleep. Yes – My problem is my extended, unending slumber. I sleep like crazy. Phones ring, Alarms buzz – but they aren’t good enough to break the harmonious hibernation that I am into. I have tried all that’s in my means. Set the alarm to the loudest degree so that it shrieks as if it is getting raped. But Alas – it only gets raped, but I don’t wake up. The phones ring (again in the loudest decibels and the speakers get rattled), as my loyal friends duly follow my instructions and try calling me to get me going in the morning. They get frustrated and I am still sleeping. I have tried removing curtains and let the sunlight directly beam into my face and I guess even the sun gets frustrated. I simply don’t wake up. Things weren’t like this before. Even 6 months before, I could be up by 10 in the morning. But now, I come out of this hibernation only at noon. Once I am up, I am in a state of shock as I am terribly late to the office. And then in order to refurbish the damage and to get to know the extent of it, I depend on my understanding colleagues. I assess the damage and make my next moves. When my roomie was around, he once abided by my request of waking me up and got kicked in the wrong place at the desired hour of the morning – His only blunder was that he tried waking me up. Every odd day, I accompany people to the airport, I have functions to attend, I have appointments with the doctor or I get caught by the cops and many such absurd reasons that attribute this delay. Lies – lies – lies. I have been living on them since the very first day of my existence. But someday, this would change and I believe in that. As of now, I only hope that, that day comes around soon.

The ride called life!! Through God’s own country

It’s that morning in my life
When I ride with no care of what goes by
I disregard the world, the people and all their lies
Somewhere I go, but always under the blue skies

I take on the open highway
Seems to me that it’s the only way
Towns go by as if they were in a hurry
I ignore them as I am on a riding spree

I feel sometimes that I should stop somewhere
But then I have no time to spare
I look back at the path that I have treaded
Long it seems, know not where I am headed

Life offered me almost everything
I grabbed some, but left many
Now I look back, I don’t see them any
And the road ahead, is the only way

Slowdown, I say, to the pace of life
To relive those moments without strife
I hear him say, Time waits for none
Like a bullet fired from a loaded gun

I give you life but you got to make it count
Saddle life with goodness, or you slide more than you mount
And even if you fall, Son…Learn to take it on the stride
And with every slide, you learn to live every moment as your last ride

Live life for today and don’t hope for the morrow
With joy to give and grief I borrow
With glimpses of bliss, in a life that flaunts misery
I still believe, you could find a way to be happy and free

And you still have a problem with this ride called life….Son
You would find me standing by you when you are left with none!!

The Anti-Newton World

I still can’t believe it. I watched Sivaji – The biggest Tamil blockbuster. Are you in search of theories that do not support the basic laws that Newton had coined centuries ago? If you are you got to watch this movie.

My reviews: It’s a Rajnikanth movie. So, half your questions are answered. His movies are always shot in a world that doesn’t abide the basic laws of Physics. The story line is again very predictable, where he makes an attempt to save the society and ends up at the wrong end. And second half always is the fight that he puts up and in other words it’s the payback time for the baddies.

The thing that you need to watch out for are the anti gravity stunts that could bamboozle the best of Hollywood stunt makers. But first impressions – There weren’t many that caught my eye compared to his other movies.

Stunt 1 – Exciting methods of having a gum - The common trick that he instigates in the mind of the viewers is the innovative means of having a gum. I am sure no gum manufacturer has advertised this improbable method. Here is the stunt. He takes the gum from the wrapper and throws it at anything or anyone around him and it pops back into his mouth. A 10/10 for his accuracy.

Stunt 2 – How not to loose a One Rupee coin – I bet he would never be short of change. There is this all important one Rupee coin, which happens to be the bone of contention throughout the movie. But the contention is not to have it. Whoever has it suffers. But our hero is in his sublime mood to show you how you toss coins horizontally and in one vertical toss, it gets into pocket. Be it the shirt or the pant – Another 10/10 for his accuracy.

Stunt 3 – This is not one stunt, but many mingled together. The action sequence is so fast that I can’t disintegrate each one of them. Mr. Reeves would be put to shame when this sixty + year old dude used a pillar to swing around and knock everyone who is a mile away from his foot. And then there is this huge giant wheel where he fits himself in the middle and rolls his way through the bad guys. Hats off, to his acrobatic skills. It would take me ages to simulate one of them.

Stunt 4 – A stunt with musical instruments – Kudos to the scriptwriter to have thought of a stunt like this. He fights everyone playing every instrument. Typically, they get musically thrashed. And harmony is restored as he walks off the shop without a scratch, but God save the owner of the shop. Every punch or a kick revolves around a musical note of instruments including drums, guitar, piano etc.

And you think it’s over. No – there is this song that’s been inspired by Hollywood flicks like Desperado & Batman. If Newton were to be alive, I would seen him cry then faint and then commit suicide. His laws won’t work here. Truly our man can do anything. When I say anything, I mean it.

The old man with new technology

Some days back,s I was forced to go the electricity board's office to attend to some damages done. I didnt expect anyone to be around as it was late evening and I expected the folks to stand by the reputation they have created for themselves. And to my surprise, I found an old clerk sitting in the office and casually going through the recods registered in the mamoth registers. Oldie looked through his specs and inspected my attire while I was busy blabbering my grievance. Once I was done, he gave sigh and slouched in his antique chair. He then gestured to sit down and said that he would send someone with me to refurbish the damage.

In the mean time a couple walked in and were enquiring about the modes of payment of the electricity bills. Then what I saw was shocking. The oldie had a surge of energy, which he had stored for the moment and took them to the Any Time Bill Payment Machine, which was adjoining the office. In detail, he explained the technical functionalities of the machine and the nuances of using the same. He then looked at me and called me to attend the brief-up on the new technical innovation that the Government had put in place. He then helped them pay off their bills and asked me to tell my friends about the same.

In normal circumstances, one would laughed at his technical incompetency and the uawareness he has about the know-how on the present day's technology. But, putting myself in his shoes, I thought it the other way. In a place like Bangalore, one out of two have a Laptop for themselves. But for him, after spending half a century in this organization he is still stuck with the old ledgers and books. I did see a computer, but it didnt seem to work. So the only technology that resides by him is the newly installed Any Time Bill Payment Machine. And I guess, he is working his own ways to win some accolades over the marvellous technological modernization that his organisation has brought in.

Calcutta - This is where I belong

Calcutta not Kolkata for me – I should acknowledge the fact that I am not penning this prose piece because I had deliberation about my past. I just happened to see 10 minutes of the Bollywood action flick named ‘Calcutta mail’, which ignited this idea of bringing my thoughts to paper.

I lived in this place just for a couple of decades. I have every reason to like the place. But, I am also making a point here by stating that I have been in all the other metros and lived in three of them. It’s been three long years since I left my hometown. They seem long, too long. But my intentions of visiting the place at-least twice a year have not been perturbed yet. Calcutta was one of the dirtiest towns in our country, but the face of the city has been changed by some folks up there with white kurtas and dhothis, that they darn. The famous Kali temple is still one of the ill-managed holy destinations. The people have been always reported as indolent, languid and lethargic. During the monsoon season, the city has always been plagued by water-logging. Standing on the remains of the British built infrastructure, the city has less to offer to the young generation in comparison to what other metros offer. And to complement that, is city traffic moving at a snail’s place accompanied by the snarls and the squabbles by our beloved taxi drivers. I accept all this and I believe the ones who have visited this place would have more to say. The book named ‘Calcutta – The city of Joy’ (I forgot the author – Some guy named Dominique Blah Blah) recounts many such real life miseries.

But there is an undefined, undeniable charm and warmth about this place. You may be wondering what and where is this ‘warmth and charm’ coming from. It’s the people, it’s always the people. The people of any place define the place. The tea stall owner, who has set up his make-shift settlement and sells tea in the day and sleeps peacefully in the night by his stall and he neither advocates nor admires a change in his lifestyle. He likes it that way. The octogenarian who goes for a morning stroll is happy catching up with his friends who are as old as he is and they have been together for all their lives. He doesn’t require a well-equipped gym in his place to keep his heart pumping, though he can afford all that and more. Work hours are short and everyone wants to be with their folks as the day ends. The evening chat session, which is popularly called as ‘Adda’ is something no one would miss in the colony. And they have this uncanny capability of delving into long lost topics, last heard half a century back. Topics can range from, ‘The effect of Picasso’s art on Indian culture’ to ‘the impact of the songs of Cart Gobain, in the fresh minds of school-goers’. But that’s what accounts for the unity among them. If an old man were to stumble on the road, there would be at least a dozen unconnected inhabitants who would help him out. After looking after his immediate needs, one of them would also call his son and offer him a piece of his mind about leaving his father all alone in the street.

One more distinctive attribute of Calcuttans is their attempt to preserve their culture. They would organize shows to display the talents of their own folks and revive the lost love for Rabindra Sangeet, by making every lady of the house to learn it. The art cinemas and dramas are still appreciated by the populace, where their contemporaries are busy watching the new chat show hosted by some showbiz on the television. The best of painters, artisans, sculptors are born here. The Durga puja is a living example for this method of perpetuation of the ‘Bengali Culture’. The city comes alive for that week. And the whole populace waits for it every year. And for some it is the only means of survival. Though there are pubs playing rock music since the time of our forefather’s days, this place is the least westernized.

And hence what’s the marked difference between them and the people belonging to other cities? - Contentment. I don’t find that with the people elsewhere. They are satisfied with what they have and don’t crave for that extra money. The town is cosmopolitan in its true sense. The settlements include people from the bordering states and also from the neighboring country. The marwaris for years have been trading and the south Indians have long settled there as bankers or teachers.

And the city still welcomes everyone with open arms. Is it the city again? No, it’s the people. I miss my Calcutta and I miss my people.

The Iyerisms

This is something that my folks would never like me to do – To portray an image on the South Indian Community (Popularly ragged as the Idli-Dosa Community). I have nothing personal against them, rather us as I am one of them. But there are some things, which are conspicuous in our community, in particular, The Iyer Tam Bram community. The universal credentials for us are the traditional white dhoti for men and the unending red/maroon saree draped around women. They are very stringent against the different vices a man is exposed to during his younger days. If you are a smoker or if you have an occasional drink, you happen to be a disgrace to the whole legion of the high endowed, respected Brahmin community.

The first attribute that strikes me is the way they live on comparison. Comparison happens to be the way of life. The number of initials that they add after their name is the status symbol. If you would watch old Tamil movies, you would observe that, starting from the cameraman to the director everyone would add their qualification to their name when the titles are introduced. I know a man who introduces himself as ‘Ganapathi B.E.’ - you know what he means by ‘B.E.’. In the circle he got introduced, was a professor in IIT with a doctorate to his name. This is to say the least. These kinds of instances are best observed in any kind of gathering and we have enough functions and rituals in place to forcibly meet each other at-least thrice a year. As I am under qualified for my community, I explicitly expose my discomfort when these penetrating questions on qualifications arise. But they are smarter than you think. They already know what you are, but probably have this indeterminate gratification of hearing your miseries from the horses mouth. And the oldies wouldn’t leave till they get their answers. And then once you are done, they would map you against their sister’s mother in law’s brother’s uncle’s grandson who happens to be of your age. That jerk cracked IIT’s entrance exam in his very first attempt. I can imagine that nerd with big specs buried in a mound of books.

Let’s get into the professional aspects. I am kind of lucky to be placed in well reputed firm with infinitesimal list of qualifications. So, after they know bunch of papers that you carry in your qualification kit, the next topic would be your profession. With me it takes a different angle. The question that they perennially want to know is, ‘How the hell you made to that corporate at that level without enough qualifications?’ Why can’t a person be good enough to handle a job? Forget it – They would never understand that. You are not done yet. And then the worst part – What’s your take home salary? I still don’t understand what impact it would have if they come to know how much I earn a year. It’s my money and my life. They are best in scaling all the limits to interfere into your personal life without subjecting to the boundaries of ones personal existence. I have figured a way to tackle this. ‘Well, I am able to live a decent living with what I get’ is my standard reply. And they probe with the following statements – ‘But with 4 years of experience you wouldn’t be earning more than a Rs. 50,000/ a month – Right?’ God save me.

There is another trait that is singular here. Ones, who have seen this world for more than half-a-century voluntarily, take up the onus of mapping all the bachelors to the women worthy of getting married. They get this undefined amusement of getting to know your plans for marriage. And if you aren’t keen on getting married in the near future, then they run their ‘Self and marital importance orientation Program’ where you are enlightened with the nuances of married life. Would they ever stop? Where am I? Am I in an interrogation to answer the purpose of the existence? Am I really a part of these people? Do I want to end up like this when I am at their age? I think not. I plan to provide the younger generation a better life when we have a communal get together. For the time being, let me get off this place and enjoy a smoke.

Blues - An attempt to retrospect

First Day

It was a typical summer morning in Calcutta, where the sun is up by 5.30. I was wide awake but still preferred to slouch in my bed, waiting for the alarm to buzz. I began thinking how the day would be as it was my first day in my new school.

I wondered how challenging would the new subjects be as they seemed to be very much specialized by their names. But my thoughts were soon sidetracked by the earsplitting alarm from the clock, which my parents wanted me to employ, so that I don’t miss out on the foremost day of my high school. I was not surprised to find my mother up and busy preparing her son’s morning breakfast. I wanted to have a light breakfast but my mother would see to it that I go full with every meal. I guess that’s what every parent is chiefly worried about – their child’s food. I had a cup of cornflakes and some fruits to go with it. I never had problems with food as I love all kinds of food. My parents have been very fortunate in this regard as my sibling has the same traits as mine, when it comes to food.

The excitement of the day, were my new uniforms. It was seldom that my parents liked the idea of buying new uniforms on an annual basis. But as it was different school, they had to concede and here I was holding the indigo blue trousers and the unblemished white shirt.

So I was out early cycling my way to my new school, which was around 4 kilometers away from my residence. The ride was grand as I could feel the fresh morning air hit my face and the excitement was enhanced by the fact that my cycle was a spanking new one. It took me less than 15 minutes to reach the school only to find that the main gate is yet to be opened and I found my contemporaries already there and busy making new friends.

I tried to recognize the faces as I heard that some of my previous school mates were slated to join this school. My hunt was distracted, when someone from the staff of the school, walked in and gestured to us to enter the compound.

I had been to the school many a times, but the feeling was unusual as it was my first saunter into the school as its student. It filled my heart with expectations and I felt more responsible. I parked my cycle at the allotted parking lot with a lot of hesitation as it was brand new. I was directed to the 2nd floor, which I later learnt, houses the whole of the science section. I was put in section A and I found my class nearest to the stairway. My first impression was that, that it was a purposeful move by the management to keep a watch on the new class.

As I entered the class, I found that almost all the benches were occupied and I was compelled to take the seat on the side of the class. I then believed in the supposition that the best of students occupied the first seats. But then, I didn’t mind that as I got a distinct view of the class. I wanted such a view as I wanted to observe the activities of my mates to form an impression of my new school. I was not awed by their behavior as it was deafening to the ears and I happened to be a silent candidate. There I spotted my old school mate chatting with a new found pal.

As I was inspecting the bustle in the class, I found a hand prod me. It pointed at someone sitting across my counter. This was followed by a series of passing glances which ended with a broad faced boy who face lit up on identifying me. He was none other than Kartik, my mate for three years in my previous school. It was in grade 3 that we met and were in different sections for the subsequent three years. We had never intermingled much in those years. I gave a very flaccid smile at him.

He then, invited me to sit adjacent to him, which I gladly accepted as the sentiment of being unaccompanied had started frustrating me. Individuals who get together after a long time often end up living in the past. We were no different and it was extra in here as we met after 5 years, which was colossal in comparison to my 17 years of survival then. We exchanged notes about what had transpired in our respective life in the breach period. I came to know that his father got transferred to a nearby town and he had made it back to the city and studied in a different school for three years. I sang my part with ease as I had been quiet for nearly an hour now.

Our budding boundless conversation was intruded by our principal, who marched into the class with an uncompromising stern face. My guess was that she wanted to infuse the air of seriousness in the class. And it worked as all of us were soundless.

Boys are known to be notorious to make remarks when they are expected to be unspoken. I remarked somewhat loudly about a possibly disturbed sleep, that she could have had the previous night, which sent a string of giggles around me. I was overwhelmed by the fact that my new mates acknowledged my self-styled sense of humor.

She started the dialogue by welcoming us all to the school, which was followed by the discipline & obedience that is expected of us. This very word discipline made me feel weary. The talk has never impressed me much as I had hated rules & regulations throughout my life. The fact that you listen to something that you detest the most made me feel miserable. But I had the precincts of being a student then and was strained to listen to what she said. The address ended with her introducing our class teacher named Sunita, who was pretty to look at. I felt that it was inappropriate to have a female class teacher in an-all boy’s school.

As soon as the principal left, there was a flourish of observations from all corners of the class. The pupil had diverse notion about the principal. The class teacher gave us our weekly schedule and we were told that she would coach us in chemistry.

We had professors dropping in and explain what subjects they are going to take up. Then came the most anticipated recess. The talk of the class during the break was about Prof Bhattacharya, who was to teach Mathematics. Most of my mates had already joined coaching establishments for engineering entrance examination purpose. They had learnt that Mathematics holds the key for any engineering entrance exam. I had no idea of the on going chat and I felt culpable for being unable to contribute to the professed conversation. I felt like a fish outside water struggling to find figure out the events around me.

As the recess was almost finished, I went to the wash basin to wash my hands where I saw this boy trying to clean his hands robustly. I wondered what stuck to his hand and I stared at his palms. He looked at me and gave a pleasant smile. He had a long face and was fair to look at, which was supported by sharp features and particularly long nose. He had a friendly look and I felt really comfy with this modest and civilized looking boy.



We strolled back to the class after a brief introduction. Balaji was he, and was had a definite inclination towards science. This introduction was succinct as we took our respective seats in the class. The last period was that of the electives. I had preferred biology and so we had to set off to another classroom as our room was slotted for the statistics batch. We lined up in front of our new class which was well-ventilated and was to my liking. Our biology lecturer was an elderly gentleman named Professor Tripati. . The paradox was that he happened to be the most energetic of all the professors.

I came back home and I had my mother eagerly waiting to hear her son’s experiences in the school.

“How are your new teachers?” was the first question, which was to identify whether her son has been put in the right institution.

My answers seemed to satisfy her and I started eluding the questions as I was famished. Once I was done, I took the note of the books to be bought and placed it in front of her. She glanced at it and asked me to notify Appa about it.









More of School

The subsequent day was the introduction to our subjects and we were informed about the proficiency assessment that would be conducted soon.

“Proficiency Exams would be the first exam in the school for you people and the results would be personally conveyed to your parents” said the class teacher.

The process of direct transmission of results to my parents made me uncomfortable. I looked at the end of the class and there was Balaji with two other boys. Those two boys had been together from the very moment they entered the school. I started believing that they were related to each other, though they looked quite unalike to each other. Or possibly they were buddies already.

I found Balaji peering into the container on the subji, probably trying to quantify the filth quotient in it. I was wrong though, as he was taking into account the consistency of the gravy.

“Are you interested in sports?” was a question as I responded in the liveliest manner as I thought I was the biggest cricket fan in the world.

He seemed to be equally interested in the game. Our discussion took meandering turns and we discussed about the performance of different teams in the sport. Here is where I found someone with an equal wavelength. We were joined by the two boys who had already established a good rapport with him. They introduced themselves as Sunil and Pradeep.

“Are you both related to each other?” I said. They looked at me with surprise. A vehement “No” was the reply. I learnt that they were from the same schools. Sunil had a very lively face and Pradeep was of the silent kind.

I then went back to my class hastily, as we were supposed to have mathematics class and I decided to learn as much as possible as I felt I lagged behind. I infrequently have such righteous thoughts.

Prof Bhattacharya was already there scribbling something on the black board. As I entered he gave me welcoming smile. I tried t decipher what had he written, but was unable to. I settled down with the notion that he was there to explicate the same.

“I would start off with trigonometry as you guys would identify what you have read with what you are going to learn”. He continued with his harsh voice. He was lean and tall and he bragged about his IIT Kharagpur certification more than once in the same session. He had this knack of mingling languages other than English while teaching, which was to the fondness of some students.

The last period was that of biology and we again found our energetic professor with even more enthusiasm as he was going to teach his much loved topic – “Cells”.

“What is the definition of cells?” My mind went back to all that I studied about them and I fashioned my answer for the asked question. There were few hands raised and ready to answer the question. The vigor with which the hands raised made it very apparent that the pupils were out to create a positive impression in the mind of the professor. The prof seemed pleased with the number of hands up and with genial beam chose one. The response was definitely superior to what I had in mind, but it failed to impress the Prof. I thought I better not risk answering the question.


We concluded the day with lecturer Sunita helping us with the tentative dates of the proficiency exams and went on saying
“Chemistry would be the first exam and be prepared as it is my subject and I want all of you score well”.

It is around 11.30 AM when our school closes and as I cycled my way along the compound wall of the school, I saw Balaji walking towards the bus-stand.

“Where do you live?” I asked as I thought of dropping him at his place if it’s on the way. He informed me that it’s near the stadium which unquestionably falls on my way back home. I had the least of doubts on my ability to ride with him for the next three kilometers given his skinny physique. I cycled with him and he showed me his house and invited me. I went to my house to find my brother fiddling with the new computer that had been recently bought. In the evening, Appa promptly bought the books and that signified my parent’s intention of making me study.
I glanced through for the books for the rest of the day and started writing letters to my old school friends who weren’t in town anymore. I had the puerile sentiment that I had lost all my friends, though I did see hope in my new group.

The next few days were exhilarating as we formed a large group which was constituted by Kartik, Balaji, Sunil, Pradeep, Manoj, Sanjay, Arun, VP Kartik, Swami and many more. This was my first “gang” and my thrill knew no bounds with a communal approach budding in us.

We were all lucky when it came to routes back home as all of us were in the same route. Kartik was boisterous and need not be provoked to become strident. He, with his hulk-like looks could gain attention and his ape-like frolics on the road was enough to draw the notice of the passersby. I was relatively quiet, though I wanted to be akin to him and I always took time to open up. Sunil was best in making judgments and it was generally accepted by the whole group.

Most of us were civilized; however we all had this intent of becoming feral and flamboyant. This is a fact, which most of them would not agree to, even in the present day. On our way there used to be a girl’s school and there egress time was the same as that of ours. Different dimensions of the anatomy of the opposite sex were visually calculated and compared between us, though none would be loud with it.

One day, as we were passing through the same place, we saw good looking gal and our tongues wagged. “Ok” said Balaji. “Now we guys can stop staring”. And it had to come from him as he, undeniably was the most civilized guy. Suddenly, Kartik yelled “8”.

“8” said I. And all of us gave him an amazed gawk. “Come on guys. That’s the score that I bestow her on a scale of ten taking all the features into consideration.”

“Wow. That was the thought of a future engineer. You are too good.” Was what I said. And everyone agreed to it. The evaluation continued right through the way back home. Then there was a discussion about fragmenting the scale into components. We could not get to a consensus about the division and Sunil terminated the discussion with “It’s better for each of us to have our own way of dividing it. I have racked my brain enough with you guys with this.”

We were passing through a tea stall called “Kaku’s joint” then. It’s been a few days that we were walking back home. The bus fare for those days had accumulated and all of us agreed to invest in eateries with the available sum. I was the only one who did not have much as I used my cycle for transport purposes. For the first time I felt at a disadvantage with my cycle. But the aroma of the “Kachori & Aludum” was enough for me to disregard it. With my limited resources I managed to have some.

Add to that there were “Jalebis” stacked in the middle. Kartik gave me gluttonous smirk which was enough indication for me to buy some of them. Balaji appeared to be particular about the dimensions and shapes of the sugary syrupy dish and he chose the best of them for us. Half full and half satisfied, I got back home.

The phone rang and my brother answered it. “It’s for you” said he. “It’s Sunil here. Hey I found a prof for chemistry. You wanna join?” I answered otherwise as I felt it was a bit too early. I changed the topic of discussion and went on to ask “We all could have game of cricket together. What do you feel?” He jumped at the offer and added that Kartik would also be available.

Kartik lived roughly in the outskirts of the metropolis and he’s for eternity geared up for anything other than studies which I deem, is much like me. As I had the cycle I volunteered to get Balaji.

We all met around 1 PM and the sun was beamed hard at us. But we felt like a reunion as we were outside the school and weren’t bound by the regulations anymore. Kartik let out a deafening howl which was his means of letting out the exhilaration. Even Balaji join him and this was the first we found him in “The Mood”.

The venue was always a big question when it comes to outdoor games. The playing grounds are many in Calcutta, but we wanted a customized personal ground to suit us. Calcutta is used to having quiet and silent afternoons as people veiled from the sun in their residence and that made our life difficult as we cannot occupy the roads for the game. But luck was on our way and Sunil persevered that we could have the fixture on the road outside his house.

The game started and we played with a heavy plastic ball. As it was the first time we were collectively playing we were unaware of each others strengths. I was deeply impressed by the elegance with which Balaji could bat. He was a left handed batsmen and panache and style was unparallel. He had the habit of covering the handle with a hanky and bat. “It’s just to soak the sweat” said Balaji. We had a cackle looking at Sunil’s bowling action. His run up to the crease was faster than the ball he delivered. The vindication offered to counter our views was “I am trying to confuse the batsmen”.

A game in many ways happens to be an ice breaker. We did not have much between us what we did not share, but the game was a catalyst and the feeling of oneness was inducted in us. We smashed each other all around the road and had great fun.



As a few weeks passed by, I adjusted myself with the new, but weird schedule that I had. Since my primary school days, I had not seen what is 6 A.M. and it was not what I had I asked for, but life doesn’t offer you every thing that you ask for. Presently, I found myself in a judgmental session with my granny (My father’s mother). An old woman of 70’s that she is she suffered from a galaxy of diseases. Her short but upright stature and the keenness in her eyes coupled with the sharp observatory skills could outwit the poise of Sherlock Holmes himself. She had been the uncrowned head of the family since the time her husband expired.

But I was unimpressed with her in one regard. Sarcasm and comparison were the only basis of her existence. She could draw comparisons with almost anything and everything. If Sir Albert Einstein were to be alive, he would have handed over the noble prize to her for extending his theory of relativity to human competencies. And this session was purely devoted to comparing me with my cousins, who had cleared every assessment in their life successfully. Now I could see heavy expectations that were constructed and laid upon me. “Your brothers have graduated from the best engineering schools in India and I don’t see you putting efforts, even to get near to what they have achieved”, she remarked, which apparently connoted that you have to score at least what has been scored, if not beyond that. I rushed out of the room before things go haywire as my patience was being put to test.

I ascended to the terrace and started to wonder, why I should be slated for a comparison. And this is not the first time that I am compared. Every habit of mine would bear a comment from her and would be graded on scale accordingly with different people fitting the contrast lists. “No one is a perfectionist, besides it is incorrect to expect the best out of everything from one individual. But are you good with anything?” After a brief ponder I couldn’t figure what am good at. This thought was getting nowhere and hence I chucked it out of my head. I felt lonely as all my friends were attending tuitions for chemistry for which Sunil had offered me earlier. I wondered if I should accept it as the class wasn’t full. But a laconic introspection left me wondering if I wanted to be coached for supplementing my course or to be with my mates. The latter seemed to weigh more and I felt unwise to waste money on this solution to loneliness.


The proficiency exam dates were announced and I could see my mates feel the tension in the air. But I lay unperturbed on my bed scanning every book procured by my parents for the course, occasionally disconcerting my brother, who was studying for his exams. My brother Anand is an interesting piece of creation in the mankind. Though, he is only three years younger to me he looked more like a kid. One of the few common traits that we shared was our interest in cricket. His short, plump configuration made me feel a like a big ball rolling with a small ball in its hand when he used to bowl to me.












The Exams

My last encounter with this ordeal termed “exams” was surprisingly a successful campaign as it was my board exam. It never occurred to me that I need to be serious, but as my folks had seen to it that I burn mid night oil and get better grades. With the good ranks in my previous school, I was pretty confident and preparation took the back seat for the proficiency test. My friends were also in the same disposition, but geared themselves up with tuitions which they had sought prematurely.

I asked Balaji, how well was he prepared as I found that he was the only other boy without any external influences, rather what is called in academic lines as “Coaching”. He seemed to be a little bothered with Mathematics and Chemistry. Kartik was confident in Physics, but jittery with Mathematics and Sunil found Chemistry as his favorite. I wasn’t comfortable with any of the subjects, but confident that I would figure a way out. Exams were a few day ahead and we started planning how we should approach it. The strategic planning meeting for encountering exams could outwit even the best of result oriented meetings ever in corporate history. Each one of us was assigned different subjects after which, the notes created by the ones who has been assigned the respective subjects would be distributed in the group and hence everyone covers everything. This was result of the meeting.








We were seven of us, Arun, Kartik, Balaji (Henceforth called Bala), Sunil, VP Kartik (Hence forth VP), Pradeep & myself walking back from school, as we stopped at the designated ‘Adda’. VP, the usually over prepared brat started the conversation, “Guys, Can anyone tell me what should I touch base on during my final revision?” “Final revision….Hmm, I had not started my preparation yet” I said.
“Abey…Behenchod….Parents would be called if you flunk. Wanna get screwed up in your home?” said Kartik. That sent shivers through me. I reconfirmed whether the funda of parents being called actually exists and everyone was affirmative. ‘’Ok. So its time to start groundwork’’, I told myself. “The jalebis are cold man” said someone and the discussion meandered elsewhere. Just as when we were done, Anup and his gang dropped in. Anup was a friend of Sunil and studied in the so called rival school of ours. He had this gait, which suggested his being agile. Of course, the cricket matches were the favorite topics and the trajectory of every ball bowled and the technique of every batsman were discussed threadbare. “Man, we could end up being Harsha Bhogle, if we could even talk half of what we generally do about this game” pitched in Bala. Kartik meddling with my cycle suddenly shouted, ‘what about a game now?’ Everyone was silent, definitely the exams inflicting the delay in arriving at the decision. But “Come Exams, Come Parent’s call….Cricket needs to played” He continued. It was a unanimous decision and the game was on. “Who the fuck bothers about such silly, trivial hassles coined as exams?” said I. Few minutes before I felt that I was the least prepared. But, anything for a game of cricket.



Schedules for the trial were announced. And Chemistry was the first one. Sunita was in the class with a crafty smile, with an unsaid expression that goes like this ‘You Morons, Time for you to fall in the pit of glumness…I am waiting’. Reminds of ‘The African Safari’, where hunters waiting their prey. And extrapolating the same to declaration of results is parallel to the samba/Zulu dance after the prey is down. ‘I live in a system, which is impractical, malicious & malevolent towards us, when I grow up I would see to it the next generation doesn’t undergo the same nightmare’, I said to myself. I could hear the next generation singing in chorus, ‘Long live Avinash, Long live the NO EXAM SYSTEM’. But the hallucination was broken by the announcement of a new professor for Physics by our principal.

Mr. Deboprem Bhattacharya (Henceforth DB) was introduced. First impressions, he seemed like a student of the school, the only variance being the attire. Clean shaven, specs loaded and a book on the problems in Physics, by Iradov made him look like a nerd. He was silent for the first few minutes adjusting the chair. It’s the time when pupil would start making observations about the new hunter, the vim & verve of the hunt yet to be understood.

“I have done my Masters from the Calcutta University and I am here to teach Physicks” he introduced himself with the typical Bong accent. “New kid in the block…ahaan…Letting out his intellectual masturbation” remarked Kartik, as usual in his untamed conduct. Sometimes it becomes unbearable with eternal commentary. DB started the topics in Mechanics and he was understandably nervous.




He wasn’t intellectually inspiring, but had this composure, which assured that ‘things could be taken easy in the early days’. He also informed that there would be another physics professor dropping in soon and since the whole lot is new we would have the only the first topic for the upcoming exams. “God bless DB” was the testimonial which each of us dedicated to him in our own minds. “At least there is one human soul in the staff room, who believes that, it would take us some time to catch up with the syllabus” Sunil said. “Have you checked the contents of the first chapter? It’s all about vectors and my tutor says that it forms the fundamentals of physics and hence is difficult to comprehend” supposed VP.


I got annoyed by the supposition placed by VP and couldn’t stop myself. “Stop being pessimistic VP, We have little to study for Physics and that’s all that matters”.

Next day, walked in one Mr. Gautam Bhattacharya (Henceforth GB), our new Physics Prof. “We would have enough Bhattacharya’s at the end of this year, that we could change the name of the school to ‘The Bhattacharya Tutorials’’ observed Bala. The principal walked in and told us that this would be a demo class and we would have to judge whether to retain him as a teaching staff. “Seems like we are in for some fun guys, lets show this new kid what we are made off” said Arun. I questioned myself, “what am I made off? No answer, one of those questions which is not worth an answer for.”







GB was more of the aggressive kind. He had the flamboyance to compete with Sean Connery; Ok, I am getting carried away now. Rather, he was more into talking than listening and keeping all Boys class quiet seemed to be his forte. We had a brainstorming session with our limited understanding, to get to know his knowledge about the subject. And expectantly, we failed miserably. It seemed like he had answers for everything. I finally got an answer for the previous question, the answer being “I am thick in my head”.

We approved the selection made by the management and GB would continue to teach Vectors. The next class he announced that there would be a question answer session.

“Holy shit, It seems like we have a made a wrong selection” I said. “I am sure Swami would be lapping all that GB told today and would try please him tomorrow. Ass licker that he is”, Swami is a candidate who is found in every classroom. They are the ones who put up an expression that they are being very attentive and every word spoke by the professor was grabbed and embedded in the brains. With his black specs and chubby face, Swami had two more features of interest. One, his obedient nod whenever the teacher looked at him, as he is signaling that he is the only good student and the other being the perennial question that he has for others, “How many hours did you study yesterday?”. If anyone says 6, then Swami used to study for 7 hours the other day. Once I tricked him by saying that I was up till 2 studying Organic chemistry. The next day as expected, his eyes were red and for once found hard to concentrate in the class.



And I was right about GB. We were fired questions on vectors and no corner of the class escaped. Kartik was the first victim. “I think he has very intimidating face”, murmered Sunil. “You stand up. What’s your name?” was the first question which Kartik managed to answer easily, followed by “Define Vector?”

Well this required some amount of reading which my dear friend found hard. The answer was nowhere near to the text book definition. On some prompting from his fortunately seated affiliates, he defined it somewhat round about manner. “You are in the near, but an agricultural answer to the question’’ was the reply.

I got out of the class and wondered how an answer can be agricultural. I am sure not to have heard this attribute for an answer before. But generally, the branding for the answers I let out, which were seldom were: ‘You need to go through your text book before you open your mouth’ or ‘You are wrong’ or worse could be ‘I expect you to see in the same class next year too’. So Kartik scored better for sure. And I found him chatting with GB outside the class, probably making up for the mess of vector. Who would like have their impression screwed up in the third day of the Prof’s class? Besides Kartik was a level up, when it comes to building PR.

Two new professors for Physics were not enough. One oldie named Dr. Manoranjan Bhattacharya (Henceforth Old monk) had come back from the states and rejoined the staffing club. With another Bhattacharya, the name of the institution was now certainly under risk. He was one of the oldest both in age and in experience in teaching. He had been with the school before I was born. A caricature of an existence would be an understatement to his physical proportions.

Movement of every limb could be observed and his inexpressive face aided him to earn the title of ‘Old Monk’. As a matter of fact he eternally looked drunk. He was short, rather a dwarf and with a tree trunk thick glasses looked like he had a penetrating look, which was only revealed when the glasses were off. He took hours before he could climb one fleet of stairs. And roll calls were like a vacation for us. He took ages to finish it. He would be ably assisted by Pintu, who would stammer before making every statement. Pintu’s roll number was 39 and would start preparing from Roll number 1. To get the Ye-Ye-Ye-Ye-Yes Sir on his call would carry on for a decade. Done with the counting, Old Monk would scribble some easy problems on the board. “I wooood take up relatively simple problames, you could work out the rest in your home and let me know if you have doubts”. Two simplest problems are worked out and that’s for the day and the rest of the torment was left to us to handle.

The exams began on a Monday and we had two exams a day. I was seated away from my friends in the first and the second exams which were Chemistry and Physics. I managed to work out some problems in Physics, but was stunned with chemistry paper. I bluffed my way with answers and was certain that I would not go beyond 10 out of the total 50. The following day was for Mathematics and with Old monk around I found it easy to get a seat near my friends. The paper had everything from Trigonometry, Geometry and Algebra. I was pretty good Trigonometry and Algebra and pathetic with Geometry. It was the first satisfactory paper and was certain to get through.




I secured the highest in Biology in my last exams in my previous school and was over confident with the subject. Besides small tweaks in the definitions, could always be ruled out by the Profs. The language papers were never of concerns and I did pretty well.

Once the exams were through, the Adda session was scheduled. The round table conference was called, the only difference being that there was no table in between and conference eatables were Chai and samosas. VP, as usual started the conversation by saying that he was confident of getting through all the papers and consequently his parents would not be bothered. No one spoke. Swami was looking grim and was pretty obvious that he would dig himself into his books for some days to come. Kartik, Sunil, Bala & I were all contented that we are done with the ordeal, whatever the results might be. Arun had started to feel the heat and was the first to get back home. I tried to entertain the group with my one liners, but nothing would break the monotony. Finally every body thought it is time to get back home and so I was home early that day, only to find my mom quizzing about my performance. I eluded the question but the results weren’t far though.

Two days later, Sunita walked into the class with the bunch of papers. Everybody was silenced as if it wasn’t Sunita but a witch ready to spell her magic. Again she had the same smile that she had put up on the announcement of the exams. I was pretty sure that our performance was dismal and she found amusement in screwing the harmony of our life. “I have corrected most of the papers and I find that most of you need immediate improvement. Needless to say that whoever fails have to get their guardians.” The class has never been so silent.


“I am going to give the papers that have been checked and would read out the name and marks aloud.” she said looking at the class. I strengthened my heart and was getting ready. The first name announced sent me scurrying towards her as it was mine. This was the assessment in my new school and the first marks awarded to me by my new teachers. “Two and half” she said aloud. I was shocked and stopped myself midway. But I managed to push myself and held out the ‘magnum opus’ of the document that spoke about my feat. ‘Two & half out of fifty’, I said to myself. It does seem like a score. It seems like the run rate required to score in a fifty over game of cricket. Others were also in the same boat. It always acts as a consolation when you people in the same boat. In my group except Swami, everyone had flunked including Sunil, who had taken tuitions from the third day of schooling.

I could derive two practical implications from this. One, I was smart enough to save my fathers pocket from burning for the Chemistry tuitions. Two, the Ass licking that Swami does, really works. I went to Swami and asked for suggestions and the fat head wouldn’t let out his trade secrets. For once, my instincts started working and I arrived at the conclusion that Swami has done something that makes him stand out of the group. I just bluffed that I saw him coming out of Sunita’s house the other day. Swami went red, enough clue for me to understand that the thug has fallen in the trap. Swami started pleading that I wouldn’t let out this clandestine of his attending private tuitions at Sunita’s place. “Haven’t you found a treasure Avi?” I thought. Now Swami was in my hands and could extract all on chemistry from him.





My dreams were shattered when Bala came in and asked how the story to be told in our respective homes. Now this is a question that needs me to delve into the emotional quotient that my parents have for my academic life, which is unfortunately high. Being the elder of the siblings, I had extra expectations to be met which have been enhanced by the stellar show I had put on in my board exams. This required lots of convincing and persuading and a commitment for my future performances. I was building a chronicle for my people when DB walked in with his bundle of chastise.

Today was definitely not the right day for me. I got 19 and one more mark would have taken me through. I first insisted, then argued, then pleaded DB to show some grace onto the score, but he wasn’t bothered. “One mark wouldn’t have mattered to him, but the bastard wouldn’t give in”, I grumbled to Bala who was short by four. The ordeal ended there for the day and I had torrid time convincing my folks how strict the evaluations were and how difficult the subjects were.

Subsequent day was somewhat better, I got through my languages and mathematics quite comfortably and I found some grounds to bicker about my wretched show in others. Sanity was restored with commitments of a better show next time.








Next day, both the biology professors were in with their share of papers and I was short by 2 this time. All my definitions were not allowed any room of variance and I scored nil in that count. My pictorial depictions were of no help and score succumbed to the stringent evaluation norms of the professors. In ten minutes, the distributions of the papers were finished and Prof Shukla started his topic on ecosystem. Prof Tripati was off for the day. Prof Shukla started dictating notes and went on as if nothing happened. I couldn’t’t concentrate on what he was stating and his pronunciation of Carbon die auxide wasn’t improving my absorption capability either.

The ride was slow to my house and no-one seemed to be in a mood to indulge in activities that generally excite us. The girl’s school on the way was of no consequence, as the prospective engineers were deep in contemplation about their future, which looked bleak. Back home, I wondered if I had made the right move. I had my share of interest in science and the traditional supposition of going to states and earning quick bucks wasn’t a bad a proposition either. But what if I do not bag an engineering seat? Well that wouldn’t be the end of the world. There should be some way out. NDA was a natural choice as I need not pursue my studies and end up in the corporate jungle either. With such varied thoughts in my mind I wanted to be serious. I picked the book on Chemistry and tried to comprehend Eudiometry, which Sunita discussed with a lot of care. The definitions of atomic weight and molecular weight seemed simple, but delving further required some rapt attention and concentration, which was dissolved in the ongoing cricket match. ‘Come on Avi, Its India’s turn to chase and Sunita could wait for a day’.



Back in school, we regrouped together and analyzed each others scorecard. They all stood in the same proportion. All of us had flunked in two of the four science subjects and cleared the languages with some console. GB announced that we would be introduced to practical in Physics, Chemistry and Biology this week and also confirmed that they were the easiest to score, though they only formed 20% of the total score. That cheered us up and we pledged together we would take the practical branch seriously from day one.

Back home, my parents had taken their steps to ensure healthier performance for my next exams by enrolling me to a coaching institution near Bala’s place. As, we had flunked in more than two subjects out of six, I had to call my parents to the school for offering an explanation about my pathetic performance. Appa was not impressed by this invitation.

Parent’s call was not an event to look for, but the day arrived and I found myself in the backseat of Appa’s scooter whistling to my school. The school seemed to be filled with parents and I felt better as Appa was not the only one. My pal’s parents had to show up and the embarrassing moment of meeting the principal arrived. The room had the principal and Sunita seated and Appa was gestured to take the seat, while I was asked to stand by him. Appa promised that such a show would not be repeated and I never found Sunita as polite as she was then. She has had fun to her hearts content and in the final juncture she probably thought that she has had enough. I felt as if I was being bailed out by my father for a criminal offence. I saw his temper scaling limits as we walked out, with expressions screaming ‘Buck up son, or you have it from me’.

Schedules were altered and the practical sessions were introduced once every week for each subject. Prof Tripati was eagerly waiting for us in the Biology lab and we took our personal notes on what a Bio lab would look like. There were bottles stacked with harmless plants drifting in yellow colored solutions, which acted as conservatory means. This was followed by the jars with creepy creatures which had died ling back, but their cadaver being preserved by the skillfully developed fluids most of which were completely unfamiliar to me. On the whole I could recommend Mr. Spielberg to shoot a movie on aliens in our lab. There lay a huge drum at the corner of the room, which contain enough rum to satiate the requirement of horse for a week. Prof Tripati opened the drum and put his gloved hand into it. By this time the whole room was filled with a nauseating pungent odour, which never seemed to bother him. With his usual levels of excitement and energy he held in his hand a toad, which seemed dead. “This drum has chloroform which has put these toads to sleep. You all line up here and pick one of these with your own hands and place them on the trays there. I would help with the dissection once you have your toad on your respective trays.”



This was enough to blow my wits off. I come from an orthodox Iyer family which believes in only having vegetarian food. ’How am I going to, botch a creature with my own hands?’ I know Bala was also of the same upbringing and I looked up to him for his words of wisdom which could possibly render a solution to this strange problem. Bala seemed comfortable as he put his hand in and held out the repulsive creature as if it was his own pet. ‘I have already gone through this ordeal in 10th he said.

The dissection kit had an interesting collection of metal items, welded in shapes, which could possibly be the armory for the armies in the third world countries. I was introduced to the world of lacerate in few minutes and I found myself struggling with the tools and the creature pinned to the tray. I asked on of my contemporaries to fulfill the rights, who gladly helped me out. ‘Good God, Are all of them from the butcher family?’ or ‘Was I the one, who is struggling to keep up with the dynamics of life’. All said and done, dissection should not be made coercion in the curriculum of the course; After all I am killing a living being’.

The practical sessions were the last and after which I found myself on the way back home. My cycle had become the fad in my group, with each one those taking turn to ride it for negotiated distances and I forced to walk. I didn’t mind it till I received the bus fares from each user. Of course it was all blown off in Kaku’s joint. The topics were circled around the finding the best coaching institutions for the subjects that one felt weak in and everyone was suggesting others the places to be joined to improve their academic eminence. The information percolation continued till we reached the gals school, after which the teenage gals with short skirts blew us away to a world of imagination. Raging hormones were hard to control and occasionally showed signs with remarks avowed. And once the trance precinct was through the ongoing Ashes series took centre stage.

My routine was altered with the introduction of tuitions. The institution where I was coached was a place worth commenting on. It had a good lot of teachers, who seemed to be sound with the subjects they were expected to teach, but the knowledge was coupled with pathetic skills of communication. The institution had a mixed breed of students coming from various linguistic mediums, and the teachers preferred to elucidate the content in their respective subjects in the regional language. The going was tough for me to mentally accept the fact that I am being enlightened in the language which I wouldn’t use while answering the questions in the exam. I had to accept this gracefully as I left my parents with no choice other than to get me coached. The second day in the institution I saw two girls giggling in the class and I was elated on finding them in the Maths class. Now, they had to be science students like me. ‘Tom Cruise wasn’t the only one who found a target rich environment’.

I wasted no time and introduced myself. They introduced themselves as Priya and Pooja. Both the P’s were pretty tall and seemed to the thick of friends. They were from a pure girl’s school and it presented me with a great prospect to pounce onto the open arena and clench whoever I want. A brief relative assessment assured me that Pooja was better to look at, but Priya seemed more mature. Pooja was more of the silent kind and I found Priya having more intense conversations with me. I remembered Kartik saying that girls are not suited for intellectually inspiring conversations, but I found myself on the wrong side with Priya. Pooja was more of the ‘Attitude’ kind, but had this charm in her face which made me grow crazy. Her assets were well maintained and their salwar-Kameez fitted her hip perfectly. It seemed as if she was wrapped tightly around with the cloth and then the salwar was stitched. I decided to target her, but keep Priya as a contingency option. We chatted for 15 minutes and all of us decided to leave. As I waved my hands to them, I saw two cars of premium category approaching them and off they went and I was left standing by my ugly piece of metal, which I previously described as my cycle. I had my doubts to approaching two chicks from well to do family, where as I come from a lower middle class family.

I broke the news to my group and their excitement knew no bounds. Imagination knows no limits when it comes to gals in an all boy’s school. We were already discussing the nuances of dating. Kartik honored himself as the dating guru and flooded with tips of how to move forward.

‘Occasional caution and flamboyance would be perfect mix for you. Analyze your targets, get to know of their likes and dislikes and don’t open yourself completely to anyone. Gals love surprises’. He went on with his counseling. I was pretty sure that the gals were denied of male company as they studied in all gals’ school and attended tuitions in the institution where I was planning to darn the role of a Casanova. So with the stage set and with valuable inputs from my pals, I was sure to crack my targets.

The following day I wore the best pair of jeans I had and cycled my way to the institution. I saw both of them sitting in one of the rooms and Priya gestured me to sit beside her. The feeling of being invited by a girl was something I genuinely enjoyed. No one other than us was inside the room. I looked at Pooja and was short of air. She wore a mini black leather jacket up to her thigh and her cleavage clearly put on display. My jaws fell apart at the sight in front of me and I instinctively blurted out ‘You look hot’. I bit my lip for making the comment and Kartik’s advice of caution was out of the window. But she reacted as if she knew what was coming. Or probably she thought that all men think alike. I was glad that she wasn’t offended with the complement that I offered. Priya distracted me by asking silly questions like, ‘when are your exams?’, ‘Did you go through the Physics assignment?’ I felt like kicking Priya on the butt, but one of the rules of the game says that attending to the target’s associate helps in grabbing notice of the target. I played the game by the book and it seemed to have worked. Pooja for once complemented my trousers as well.
For hours to come, I could only imagine Pooja in her jacket and nothing more. Back home, I looked at the notes that I had scribbled in the tuitions, but I couldn’t concentrate on the contents. As I was skimming through the pages of the note book, I found a telephone number scribbled at the end of the page. Other than me, only Sunil and Kartik were blessed with phones in our homes and the number was certainly not theirs. I began to suspect whether my tuition accomplices had left the numbers behind. I wanted to check, but found my parents sitting in the hall, with the television set screaming at decibel levels enough to inform the neighbor with the daily updates. I planned to run the investigation after dinner. I was quite sure that it had to be Pooja because of the mutual complement session that we had in the evening. The dinner seemed abnormally long that day with Anand taking his own time to finish his share of the food. Once everyone was bed, I stealthily crawled onto the hall and dialed the number. A female answered the call and I asked for Pooja.
‘Hey, this is Priya here, I knew you would call. But why did you ask for Pooja’. I stamped my own leg for being a fool as throughout the tuition session, it was Priya who sat next to me and not Pooja. I pretended as if I knew it was she who wrote the number, but I accidentally let off Pooja’s name. Priya gladly accepted my wretched explanation and went on with her share of gossip for sometime. I had to keep the call short as anyone may drop in the hall. I said I had to study and I concluded the call with a ‘Good Night, Sweet Dreams and blah, blah, blah. She dropped a comment saying that she feels great talking to me. I walked back to my room with an air of confusion. I felt good talking to Priya, but what about Pooja?


I went to school and divulged my nocturnal experience. ‘Invitations cannot be better phrased than this; its time for you to take the next step’ the date Guru seemed satisfied with the way his pupil had performed. But I felt a bit apprehensive about this mis-hit target as it seemed to come too easy. But who cares about Priya? Pooja in her tight jacket seemed to fill the air around me with trance. DB and GB extended their classes for the day because loss of time in practical sessions. I hated this; everyone hated this. How can teaching go beyond the schooling hours, given the fact that they don’t provide us with extra time during the exams. But no-one voiced it out as everyone wanted to be in the good books of the professors and I was no different. After all, it was told to us that 10 marks would be allotted for the viva session for all the forthcoming exams.

Back to tuitions, Pooja hadn’t turned up for the day as she had to attend some party thrown by her friends and I felt as if I am wasting my precious youth. Priya was there in her usual salwar and gave me a known smile as if we had been rocking the night before. We had a huge group sitting together trying to grab the basics of Hydrostatic theory. She nudged closer to me and wrote some crap on my copy. I gave a desolate look as if to say that I am in no mood. I was a bit uncomfortable with those looks and nods and prods and any unique idiotic exclamation or reactions which were to signal that you were something more than ordinary to her. She got the hint and kept silent for the rest of the day. Once done with the classes, I started packing things up and she kept scribbling the notes as she had missed some of them. ‘Do I wait till you finish?’ I asked. ‘It would be great if you stay with me’. She said. She took her own sweet time to finish it and I felt bored. With my pathetic personification skills, I started making her sketch and it turned out to be terrible and I didn’t want to scare her that evening. Girls have this knack of asking for things when you just want to hide it from them. ‘Show me, Show me’ she started demanding the creation by the artist in me. She was almost over me extending her arms to snatch it from my hands. The rooms in the coaching institution were small, enough to accommodate ten folks and if someone were to see me in this pose, I am in trouble for sure. I gave in and handed over the manuscript of an artist. I feared the worst, but she looked at it and seemed pleased and said ‘It would remain with me for the rest of my life’. I was aghast at the effect of my artistry and wondered if I had underestimated my arty skills.

‘Holy Shit; its all bullshit, she is just trying to impress you. We have seen your sketches. You draw something and it looks like something else, dumb girl. But I told you girls love surprises’ Kartik said. So, if were to waste my time waiting for her, then that is considered to be the time where I invent a surprise for her. Old Monk saw me pondering over this and asked if I am fine. I negated his doubts and started working on the complex number problems that he had assigned for the day. It was time for the physics practical session. Today, it was about the applications of Simple Harmonic motion and a pendulum was given to us and we were asked to swing the pendulum at a minor 4 degrees and calculate the frequency. One of my classmates was busy swinging the pendulum all over the place and it went round and round the wooden stand from where it hung. GB saw this and came charging at him. He poked from the back and as he turned around he gave one tight slap. The sound of the slap reverberated in the room. I spontaneously exclaimed, ‘now this how echo works…Right GB’. That sent everyone chortling. GB would never like that, but had nothing to say. I was aware that GB would have marked me, and I could be persecuted for the next echo-session.


The next day Sunita didn’t turn up and we were at our wildest best. The screams became louder and louder. Kartik let his wild wolf-like cry enough to scare the cattle grazing around the campus. This was too much to bear and the principal who sits in the floor below stormed into the room. ‘I heard someone howling from this room. I want to know the person responsible for this. Do you think this is a zoo?’ Everyone kept mum. ‘I could make alternate arrangements to know who it was. It would be better if the subject accepts it himself’. Another parent’s call for Kartik’s whimsicalities, but at the end of the day, he is one of the closest friends I have. She walked off leaving to contemplate the next course of action. Kartik turned lucky as he realized only a few knew that it was he. He scuttled out of the room and I thought he had gone to apologize. He came back after a couple of minutes and announced ‘Guys I have apologized on behalf of the class and but she wants to know who it was, as we are responsible for this, we should all apologize’. Before he could finish his sentence, in came Mr. Pandey. He was the cricket coach for the school and occasionally taught us statistics. He was well-built and was renowned for the chastisement, he offered to unruly and undisciplined lot. I knew we were in trouble now. He stood with a long slender piece of wood, whose usage isn’t found in high school generally. The thrashing in high school is an ego damaging act, but we were left with no choice. ‘Who did this?’ he asked. Kartik was about to say something, but Mr. Pandey quickly swayed to his defense. ‘Kartik, you are the most responsible of the lot. You came and apologized for the whole class. Now I want some one else to answer this question’. The lucky bastard darned a serious look, just to complement his act of fidelity. Mr. Pandey called one of the back benchers and asked him ‘who did this?’, ‘I didn’t do this’ said he and then I witnessed the slap of my life. The mark of Mr. Pandey’s Palm was clearly visible on his face, vindicating the fact that hands are more potent than the cane. I was aghast and for once felt that Kartik was absolutely off beam. But after the torment we saw, no one would dare to admit. Courage was under the scanner. After Mr. Pandey was out, we discussed how to give it back to him. Manas, one of the mates, who was equally well built said that he would take the revenge in the cricket practice session. He called all of us in the break to witness the act of retribution. During the break, we ran down to have our food and sat on the bench. Manas was ready with the ball and Mr. Pandey with the bat. The first ball was banged in short and it hit Mr Pandey’s helmet. He was cheered by the whole class and that pepped him up. Another bouncer followed by another. Mr. Pandey had the toughest time in the practice session and asked Manas not to bang it in. But he continued to do so. Mr. Pandey figured out that it was deliberate and slapped Manas too. I had witnessed too many slaps in a couple of days, but understood that this is how my school works.

The next day, we found Manas waiting outside the school gate and said, ‘I would show him that he tried his tricks on the wrong person.’ During the break we found a police inspector sitting in the Principal’s cabin with Mr. Pandey and Manas. He had registered a complaint with the local police station for slapping him, following which Mr. Pandey had to apologize to the whole class. Everybody welcomed Manas with open arms and it was bigger than winning any kind of competition.

Sunita walked in the next day, with an obvious expression that she wasn’t feeling well. She signaled that she wouldn’t be able to teach and gave us some problems on Eudiometry. Swami was the first one to solve them. I stared at Swami as if to say, ‘Bastard, you didn’t share with me what she taught you’. After the class, I caught Swami by his collar and asked him for the tuition notes. He politely handed over some materials. I promptly distributed it to my friends without naming him. Thus I formed an ‘No give & only take’ relationship with Swami.

The hot P’s tuition schedules were altered and I could meet them only twice a week. One evening, during the tuitions, I came to know that Pooja didn’t have her car to get back home and I was keen on dropping her to the nearest underground Metro station. As we walked out, I was preparing myself for the statement which would invite Pooja to be dropped and not hurt Priya as well. But before I could formulate my statement, Pooja was off and shaking her hands with a tall guy. He looked all moneyed with his attire and the Swiss watch complemented all he had. He had a poke marked face and the whole entity with which Pooja was busy giggling with, was a cartoon to look at. He was introduced to me and Priya already knew him. After a brief silence, he said ‘Lets go then’, I was about to say ‘Go where, I am going to drop her to the nearest station’. But I start my blabbering, Pooja said, ‘Yep…But what about Priya?’ Priya seemed contended to walk down to the station. The conversation between us was ended without a word uttered by me. And they were off in a flash in the shiny sleek bike of that money loaded animation and I was left stranded with Priya.

Priya vividly explained to me that the guy happens to be her boyfriend and they have been together for quite sometime. Brokenhearted & grief-stricken that I was, I tried to put up a show to hide it. Suddenly Priya blurted, ‘You like Pooja, Right?’ I looked at her and saw that compassionate look that she darned on her face. ‘Oh no. It was never in that sense. I mean I liked her as a friend’, but her face never changed the sympathetic expression as if she had found a mind reading device. I walked with her to the nearest Metro station thinking of that lucky wretched bastard, who simply never deserved Pooja. All that differed between us was wealth. God, why wasn’t my father a king? Or why don’t I find a treasure?

Back home, I decided to forget the damn affair and lay more emphasis on studies. I checked up with Sunil regarding any Chemistry notes provided in his tuitions. I started reading ‘Where Eagles dare’ and relaxed the rest of the day.

Pooja sat near me and started tickling my ear. I tried to stop her, but I was honestly enjoying the ostensible game. I nudged close to her and fiddled with her hair. She smiled back and I whispered in her ear ‘I love your lips and would like to feel it with my own’. Before she could answer, I heard a male voice ‘Doesn’t the alarm bother you? It has woken the whole house except you?’ I opened my eyes and found my father standing beside me. Dreams are only to be dreamt. I raced to school and just managed to squeeze my way into the closing gates. Everybody laughed at my state and there was no consolation to be found. But looking at those mocking face, I figured out that life shouldn’t be wasted by repenting. ‘Well, the world today has billions of chics who are waiting for us, so better luck next time Asshole’, Kartik said.

After school, I was in a sublime mood and planned to get back home fast to finish the rest of the book. I cycled my way through the busy streets until I found the commerce group of cyclists on the street. One look from one of them was enough to fuel a race. We were five in number, four from commerce and I, the lone warrior from the science group. I raced ahead until the chain in my cycle gave in and I lost control and crashed into one of the dividers on the road. And where did I land up? Right beside the footpath, which houses the girl’s school. I could hear sniggers and chuckles from the school gate. I ignored all of it and acted as if I have been deeply hurt just to gain some sympathy and the rival group racing behind came to a halt and paradoxically chose to help me. They helped me stand up and the front wheel of my cycle was already a mangled piece of metal. I pushed my cycle back home, only to listen to my mother’s sermon about reckless cycling.

Sunil called me to his place as his parents were out and I found Kartik and Balaji seated in his room. I described the way I slipped in front of the Gal’s school. ‘Couldn’t you find a better place under the sun to fall?’ exclaimed Sunil and there went another roar of laughter. ‘Come on man. You don’t choose a place to fall’ I said thoroughly irritated. ‘This week is not mine for sure’ I said to myself. ‘Ok. Let’s watch this movie’ said Sunil and took out a CD on which it was printed in bold. DESPERADO – It read. And I would die for watching this movie. After all, Salma Hayek looks so good. And the ambience was so very perfect. In the middle of the movie, Pradeep dropped in and the squabble started of playing it from the beginning. Consensus was achieved only after everyone assured Pradeep that, Ms. Hayek hadn’t undressed yet. Just as the movie was finished we heard the bell ring and Sunil was scurrying to hide the CD. In the melee, Kartik dropped the CD into my bag, about which I totally forgot till I reached home.

Back home, Anand started fiddling with my bag in the pretext of hunting down a pen. I didn’t find him in the room for the next few minutes. ‘What the hell is this?’ I saw my mom holding the CD in her hand. And there was my brother standing behind with eyes expressing the pleasure of entangling me in his canary trap. ‘Oh this one, this belongs to Kartik’. I divulged without a blinking an eye. I followed it up by a comprehensive reasoning fairy-tale. With mom satisfied, I prayed to God that Kartik doesn’t land up here in the near future.

‘So you remembered only my name when you were in trouble’ he said over the phone and banged it with a concluding remark which goes like this ‘Thanks for screwing my reputation’. I had to share some of part of any goof up with him every time as he is invariably responsible for most of them.

But in my group, everything is forgotten within minutes. The next day, as a tribute to the reputation sacrifice that he made, I gave my cycle ‘only’ to him to the ride back home. The bargain was always in my favor as I was bugged cycling slowly at the pace at which others walked. Soon came, the gals school and there was Kartik unearthing all the cycling tricks. Beyond that, Kartik lost interest in his act and surrendered it back to me with the remark that goes like this ‘Gals like guys with special skills or attributes’.

That remark stuck to my mind. What if I could impress Pooja with anything special that, that bastard boyfriend cannot manage? Would that earn me some browny points? But then, what am I good at other than some sports? And it’s very difficult to find an opportunity to frame an occasion to display my sporting genius. I couldn’t figure out anything. I called up Priya that night to ask if there is anything about a man that Pooja would go crazy about. I tried mincing words to convey my question, but was found wanting for the right sentence. ‘You and Pooja are good friends. So what is that you both like? And is there something that you are not crazy about that she is?’ And I waited for her response. ‘Bastard – You are trying to figure out what she likes, so that you can produce a stunt to impress her’. Priya just abused me…..A girl abused me something that is generally not expected of her. Does that talk of familiarity or did she actually abuse me?

To understand her point of view, I calmed the situation by articulating, ‘I just wanted to know both of your likes and dislikes’. Priya, after a lot of ooooohs and aaaaahs ultimately spoke on what could work. ‘Your cycle is of no use. She fears a two-wheeler as it gives her a sense of imbalance. Even, Rohit rides very cautiously with her’. Ok, so that moron’s name is Rohit, I prefer to define him as ostentatious M-O-R-O-N. Priya in the mean time continued with her thoughts of impressing the hot P, ‘Oh yes, I give you one tip which could make wonders, but I want a treat in the nearby ice-cream parlor. Now, to escape the treat, I sent my mind racing for tips. I don’t think I am physically disproportionate anywhere, which definitely needs immediate repair work. I couldn’t figure out anything. Priya – the greedy pig - chancing on the opportunity of providing simple guidance to pocket Pooja in, wants to burn my pockets. God! Where is the treasure? Ok, Fine. Calm down. It’s just an ice-cream. After lamenting, I agreed. ‘Pooja is crazy of percussionists, We went to Dublin (The ‘In’ Pub) the other day and we found Rahul playing the drums for Pink Floyd songs and Pooja went onto the stage to give him a kiss’. ‘Wait a minute – who is Rahul? I heard Rohit before - Another threat’. I thought what could be done. I was surely not blessed with a minuscule sense of music and I had no inclination to supplement music to my curriculum, not that I was fully done with assignments that Old Monk loves to give. I was chucked out of the classical music classes when I was aged five as I was charged guilty of carnage towards red ants. I still wonder what our elderly music teacher expected an overgrown toddler to do when they were busy chanting mantras in Sanskrit.

Priya, greedy as she can get, asked me treat her in the nearby parlor on the coming weekday after the tuitions. An ice-cream for Priya for the invaluable priceless suggestion that she has given – which I could adapt into so easily that Pooja is going to fall onto my feat the very next day. But a deal is a deal.

Another Trial

Back in school, I found that practs session in Physics happened to be the best of all the classes. It was complemented by the inaccurate instruments which also gave me scope of first rectifying them and then conducting each experiment. And I also appreciated the freedom given to each one of us to get involved individually with each of the experiments. Of course, GB & DB were always around, but I guess they struck upon a common note with each other and slowly there involvement reduced. We were conducting experiments on heat and hydrostatics regularly.

Then there was the announcement of the first term exams, which would be conducted within a matter of 15 days. ‘Oh my God; is another parent’s call in the reckoning?’ The syllabus was announced for each of the subjects and I found it anything but comprehendible. The walks back from school were quickened. The evening meetings were cancelled or the attendees were few. Even Cricket couldn’t fit into the schedule. The heat was on.

As the exam dates neared closer, I found people carrying books in their hands where-ever they were – The recess breaks, the walk to the school, I am sure there would some going through the formulae, even when they were addressing the nature’s call. I thought how to go about it. My preparation was anything but complete. ‘Why are these ordeals held compulsorily? Can’t I escape all this?’

I decided to go after a few subjects rather than going after everything. I targeted Biology and Physics. I slowly discontinued practicing Maths problems as I was confident that I would get through like the last time. Languages were anyway of no concern to most of us. Tuitions – The hot P’s were excluded from my agenda for the time being. But Priya, by then had started religiously calling me every night.

The day arrived. The first exam was of chemistry. I felt the sweat on my forehead once I sat on my bench to appear for the terms. I hadn’t fully come out of my extraordinary show that I had put on the last time. The question papers were distributed and I started going through them. ‘Holy shit – Everything is on Eudiometry and Stoichometry. I hadn’t even glanced through them. 10 marks out of 50 were on inorganic chemistry. I answered 8 of them. And there were no practical exams to make up. Another 2 or a 4 this time, ‘Outstanding 200 % improvement from the last time. I saw Sunil digging himself into every question. I was the first to submit the answer sheet. Bala and Kartik hung around for some more time. I told myself that I had to figure a way out. Illegitimate means were on the cards and the four of us plotted to provide mutual support to each other. The next exam was that of Maths. I walked into the exam hall brewing in confidence. I knew I could do something in this paper. But I was wrong. The question paper had nothing that I could answer. I had Sunil sitting right beside me this time. But do I need to copy? It’s not new to me though. I scribbled a problem from his answer sheet and tried to work other problems as well. As I walked out of the hall, I found my contemporaries giving a Hi-Five to each other over problems solved correctly and arriving at a consensus with the answers. I found myself in a different planet. Most of them have picked very well and erased a probable repetition of the performance put up in the previous encounter with the term called exams. I couldn’t do that till now. Bala was down in the dumps as he was sure of flunking in both the exams like me. Kartik was very positive about his performance on Maths and Sunil, anyway rocked in Chemistry. Maybe, his planetary positions were always in tandem with that of Sunita’s. But one could never trust Kartik. He could manipulate anything. And to harmonize that, this guy also had the supernatural art of convincing people. I knew that his ego comes into play when it comes to Mathematics for some untold reasons. Maybe he was too passionate with the subject. But there was no time to deal all these as we had Physics the next day and the Biology the day after. GB was probably aware of our mutual coalition plans and we found ourselves sitting in different corners of the rooms. But this time I attempted close to half of the questions and I saw a diminutive chance of getting through. I slept for an hour on the night before the biology exams. Half awake I attempted the paper and rushed back home. I crashed into the bed and was out dreaming for the next 18 hours. Weekend came and only the languages were left. I stopped thinking of miserable performance as it brought nothing but apprehension. Languages went of fine as usual. I was done with the terms, however bad the results would be.

I spent the afternoons playing my second hand video games. My parents never deprived me of the basic necessities of life. But there are things which a boy longs for and different individuals yearn for different things. My yesteryear school friends were those who had electronic gadgets to play with and my parents couldn’t afford it. So when I got my second hand video game, which I was always crazy of, I was enjoying pleasures that would have dated years back for any other boy. Well I didn’t mind.

Back to tuitions, I figured out that the Hot P’s weren’t ecstatic about their performance in their board exams either. Priya invited me to her house over the weekend. I wanted to decline the offer, but then, Pooja would also be there. Kartik and Bala came down to my place for the evening and I involved them in a game of chess which was one of my favorite games. My brother was equally good at it too.

Old Monk, oldest of the lot was the fastest to correct the papers and was there in the class three days after the exam distributing the paper. My calculations told me that I could get any where between 16 and 25. The papers were distributed. What I saw made me shit in my pants, rather almost. 6, it said. VP started laughing at me. Incorrigible Bastard, that he was. I then saw his face displaying agony. I peeped at his scorecard and was down on the floor laughing. 0, it read. I couldn’t help myself. I was down on my knees and letting out tears and laughing hysterically. Old Monk heard my uproarious laugh. ‘You there, How much did you get?’ I enlightened with my score and he was totally pissed. ‘Get out of the class. I would take you to the principal after the session’. But that wasn’t enough to stop me and I giggled my way out of the class. I checked my answer sheet for anything that the oldie had missed to award me some marks to enhance the incredible score that I already had. But there was nothing. And the 6 I got was the solution that I copied from Sunil. With no opportunity to enhance what I had, I waited outside the class. After the class, Old Monk gave me a piece of his mind and threatened to throw me out of the school. Considering his seniority and the reach that he had in the school management, I apologized and let out all the words in dictionary that could symbolize regret. He left me after a warning. I walked back to the class. There was VP, with his hands over his head. And with him was Kartik, he too looked equally devastated as he shared the same score with VP. Bala got 12, Sunil – 15. Pradeep got 2. All of us have failed.

Out of the school, I expected Kartik to be a little hushed.