“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Alok said, trying to arrange his pillows.
“And I think you should keep the curses down,” I said.
Alok’s mom knocked about a minute later. It is amazing how much can get done in a minute. Ryan threw out the ashtrays, pornos and vodka bottles. He also arranged the course books and assignments on the study table. All dirty clothes stayed hidden in an overstuffed cupboard.
“Hello Mom. What a pleasant surprise,” Alok said.
“Alok. I am not talking to you. You have completely forgotten us,” Alok’s mom said as she put boxes of sweets on the study table. I wondered if it was okay for us to strike at them now.
“I was busy,” Alok said.
“Shut up. Two months have passed. You haven’t called since that day you called about Dad and Didi’s proposal. What happened? You don’t want to talk about our problems?”
“No Mom. It is just this assignment for Prof Veera. It keeps us so busy,” Alok said.
“My son works too hard,” Alok’s mom said looking at me and Ryan, “You guys should take a break now and then. After all, your jobs are just a semester away,” she said.
Ryan and I smiled, continuing to stare at the boxes of food. Please Aunty, offer them once.
“Alok, you must come home next weekend. Look, even Dad had to come all the way in an auto,” she said.
“You took an auto! It is seventy rupees,” Alok said.
“So what to do with Dad? And after all, my son will be working soon,” Alok’s mom said, “and Hari, why don’t you have some laddoos I made.”
Ryan and I jumped on the boxes before she finished her sentence.
“Mom but still,” Alok said.
“Keep quiet. Look Didi also sent this new pair of jeans for you. She saved her pocket money you know,” she said, passing a brown bag.
“Thanks Mom. I’ll keep it for a special occasion,” Alok said.
“But at least try it now. Come get up,” Alok’s mom said.
“No Mom. I’ll do it later,” Alok said.
“What later? We can change size now if it doesn’t fit. Don’t be lazy get up,” Alok’s mom said, shaking Alok’s leg. I am sure that hurt.
“No Mom,” Alok said, clenching his teeth.
“Get up,” Alok’s mom insisted, pulling the bed sheet off him. She shouldn’t have. For Alok still had the signs – plaster casts covered both thighs and legs. The feet still showed marks where doctors had done the stitches. It was something even we didn’t fancy seeing.
“Oh my god,” Alok’s mom said as her face dropped along with her hands. “Mom please,” Alok said, pushing her away and wishing she had never come.
Alok’s mom felt nauseous and Ryan had to help support her back to a chair. I gave her a glass of water.
“What is going on? Will someone please tell me?” she said.
Ryan looked at me. It was time for us to leave the room.
“We’ll go downstairs. We’ll say hello to Uncle and say Alok is in the lab. Okay Aunty?”
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Could any male in her family stand up on his own legs?
“Easy Mom. It was a scooter accident that night…” Alok said as we shut the door behind them. I was sure she’d know he was lying. A scooter accident with Ryan and me perfectly fine was somewhat unbelievable. We saw her leave after half an hour, wiping her tears. We stood by the auto, trying to make conversation with Alok’s dad. He was in a happy mood, probably enjoying his rare day out.
“Alok busy eh?” he said, pursing his lips.
“Yes. They have an important project,” Alok’s mom said, sitting in the auto.
“Bye Aunty,” Ryan and I waved.
“Back to Rohini madam?” the auto driver said, starting the scooter.
“No. Take me to the Mechanical Engineering department.”
“Aunty?” we chorused.
“There are things which a mother can sense, even though her son may not talk about it. I want to meet your Prof Veera before I go home,” she said as the auto buzzed off.
“She’ll find out. She’ll find out about the Disco,” I said, shaking Ryan’s shoulder.
“Let her. She deserves it,” Ryan said as he put his arm around me.
We went to Sasi’s for breakfast after Alok’s mom left.
“I have to make my call today,” I said.
“Is she real mad at you?” Ryan said.
“She was a month ago. She’s got to miss me right?” I said.
“I don’t know. What is the whole deal about missing people and not doing anything about it anyway?” Ryan said, and took out a brown envelope from his jeans pocket.
Sasi served a plate of paranthas. Ryan left the letter on the table and started tearing up the hot paranthas.
“It is so different when you come and eat here without Alok. There is no frantic urgency about eating,” Ryan said.
“Is that a letter from home?” I said.
“If you say so. Where are they now – LA or something,” Ryan said.
“How often do your parents write?” I said.
“Used to be every week, then once in two weeks. Now they write once a month,” Ryan said, smothering each chunk of parantha with yellow butter.
“Do you write back?” I said.
“No. Not unless it is a couriered letter. In that case the delivery guy asks me to write a few lines right there.”
“So what is the deal here Ryan? I mean, they are just abroad trying to make a buck. What have you got against them?”
“I have nothing against them. I am just indifferent. I need another parantha.”
“Shut up. How can that be? I mean, how come you save all their letters? I saw them, hundreds next to your vodka stash.”
Ryan stopped chewing. “It is too complicated. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You won’t talk to me?”
“They are too strange. I kept telling them let us stay together after my boarding school. But the international business was really taking off then and they had to leave. I guess what I wanted was never in the picture. So, okay I get the dollar cheque, thank you. But spare me the we-miss-you shit. If you do, what the hell are you going to do about it?”
“Did you tell them about the Disco?” I said.
“Are you crazy?” Ryan said.
“You know, you could join their business after IIT. I mean, you know what our job scene will be. But you won’t have to worry.”
“No way in hell,” Ryan said, and clenched his hands. “Never. I will open a parantha shop, become a coolie, wash cars but I am not going to go to them.”
“They are your parents…”
He gave me a dirty look. “So thank you very much. I am going back to Alok. You have a good time with your girl.”
“Ryan, could you give up your lube project right when it was about to become successful?” I said.
“What?”
“Answer me,” I said.
“That is the only good thing I ever did in IIT. It is my passion, my sweat, and my belief. No, how could I give it up?”
“Maybe this pottery business is your parents’ lube project,” I said as I stood up too.
He picked up his letter again and walked away.
“Reply to it Ryan,” I shouted across the road.
He put the letter back in his pocket.
“Neha, is that you?” I said, even though I was a hundred percent sure it was.
“Hari?” she said, her voice unable to hide the fact that she was expecting this call.
“Before you hang up, can I just say something?” I was suitably humble.
“I am not hanging up. What do you want to say?” she said.
“I miss you. And I love you. God, I was so close to you and then I blew it up. I wanted an A in your dad’s course. I thought I could impress him. Somehow, in our twisted minds we planned this Operation Pendulum. And they did a Disco on us, ruined our lives. And now you also don’t want to talk to me…” My
voice dwindled to a whisper.
“Hari?”
“What?”
“I missed you too.” She broke into tears.
I wished I could cry too. But her words made me too happy. I mentally hi-fived myself and tried to control my elation. Keep serious tone, keep serious tone, I told myself.
“Oh Neha, don’t cry,” I said, probably to make her cr y a bit more. I can’t tell you how good it feels when a girl cries because she missed you.
“I can’t Hari. I can’t forget you. Why did you do those things?” she said.
Okay, this is progress, I thought. From ‘how could you’ to ‘why did you’ is not bad. Twisted they may be, but I did have my reasons. And I didn’t have to give them all now.
“I can explain more. Can we meet? Just for ten minutes,” I said.
“Should we? I mean, Dad made me swear I’d never see you,” she said.
Now how does one answer that? I tried to think of some rational premise on which swears to dad could be broken. Nothing came to mind.
“I miss you, Neha,” I said. When in doubt, be sappy.
“I miss you too. Can you come to the ice-cream parlour at two,” she said.
“Sure. But on one condition,” I said.
“What?”
“Can we not have strawberry this time? I like chocolate more,” I said.
“Shut up, Hari,” she said, unable to hide a laugh. There, I had done it. Tears to titters in one call. Plus, a tiny date thrown in too. I did a mini jig at the public phone booth, which made the other customers in the shop think I had won a lottery.
“See you then,” I said and hung up the phone. I heard the coin go in. What a wonderful way to spend a rupee.
Neha stayed at the ice-cream parlour for two hours, twelve times more than the ten minutes she had come for. By the end, I’d told her everything. She couldn’t really remain upset for too long. I guess it could be because I bought strawberry as well as chocolate, but maybe it was because she was just happy to see me. We fixed the next date for a week later, and soon we were back in the ‘fix the next date on the previous’ cycle. It helped me pass all the idle time in the dropped semester. We worked eight hours a day in Prof Veera’s lab, sometimes ten or twelve. Ryan worked longer, even up to sixteen. He ripped open his scooter for experimentation, making it a pain to move around in the insti. Alok used crutches for a month and then got by with a limp. Prof Veera liked the second proposal a lot, and he kept informing the Dean of the progress we were making. He never brought up the issue of a clean grade sheet or extra credits, but we knew there was little chance until we finished the proposal. We gave the final draft to Prof Veera one week before the semester ended. It was two hundred pages, and from Ryan, Alok and I this time.
“Wow. This is a fat proposal,” Prof Veera said.
“It’s literally the whole study. We have isolated the optimum mix already,” Ryan said.
“I know. This is way beyond a proposal,” Prof Veera said as he flipped through the pages, “I cannot believe the four months are over.”
“Me neither. I guess it will be time to attend classes again,” I said.
“And loads of them. Maximum credits this time, and I am not skipping any more,” Alok said.
“Me neither, right Ryan?” I said.
“Yeah. I’ll come along as well,” Ryan said, “So Prof Veera, what do we do with this tome now?”
“Well,” Prof Veera said, putting the proposal on his desk, “let me take a final read and unless there are big corrections, I’ll just submit it. Good job and take your week off before your loaded semester begins.”
“And the credit and grade sheet, sir,” Alok prompted.
“Later guys. It depends on the reception to the proposal. Don’t be too optimistic, but we shall see,” Prof Veera said.
We left his office, leaving our work of three months. It could get us nowhere, but we had given it our best shot. The final sem began on Jan 5, just a week from now. And six days later, on the eleventh, was my big date with Neha, when she would be free for the whole day. If she would let me come to her home again, I thought.
25
—
A Day of Letters
THE FIRST DAY OF OUR FINAL SEMESTER FELT AS SPECIAL as the first day of classes in the institute. We got up at six-thirty for the eight o’ clock class. Ryan took a shower and then proceeded to carefully comb his hair for the next twenty minutes.
Even then we made it before class began. It was Prof Saxena’s ‘Refrigeration and Air-conditioning’ or RAC class. He was a senior prof, and touted to be next in line for head of the department. That is, if Cherian moved on to something else, retired or just died. None of that was imminent as of now so Prof Saxena was content teaching final year students how to keep things cool. We were the first students to arrive, and he was already in the class.
“Welcome, welcome,” Prof Saxena said, “now this is a surprise. Who would have thought fourth year students will reach early for class.”
I guess he was right. In the final semester, people were more interested preparing for job interviews and MBA admissions. We hadn’t even bothered to see which companies were recruiting this time, for we didn’t know if we were getting a degree this year.
“Good morning, sir,” Ryan said as we took front row seats. We were sitting in a classroom after four months. A blackboard never looked so great. I wondered when the class would begin.
“What are your names?” Prof Saxena asked.
“I have heard those names,” he said after we told him. His forehead developed creases as he tried to remember.
“We had a Disco last semester, sir. You were part of the committee,” Ryan said.
“Oh yes,” Prof Saxena said, “Yes, the Cherian case. So, this must be your first class in months.”
We nodded solemnly.
“That explains it. So, what is your situation? Will you be graduating on time?” Prof Saxena said. I couldn’t say if there was real concern in his voice or if he was just passing time before class.
“We are five credits short, sir. Even though we have loaded up courses for this semester,” Alok said.
“How many courses do you have?”
“Six,” I said.
“Wow. Most final semester students do just two. And that too they hardly attend class. You will be in classes all day,” Prof Saxena said.
“Yes sir. No choice.” I shrugged.
“Have you talked to Cherian about credits?” Prof Saxena said.
“Prof Veera is trying for us,” I said.
“Hmm. Anyway, the system is harsh. Look at you boys, could have got a job even with your low GPAs. Lots of software companies this time. But this Disco might spoil your entire degree,” Prof Saxena said.
A few other students trickled in over the next few minutes. I think there were ten of us in class, while over thirty had signed up for the course. I remembered earlier eight a.m. classes, how we never attended them even in the second and third years. But right now, I couldn’t wait to learn.
“Third law of thermodynamics,” Prof Saxena said as he got up to turn to the blackboard.
Ryan, Alok and I took out our pens and jotted down every word the prof spoke for the next hour.
I met Neha a couple of weeks into the final semester. For the first time, I had to scramble to make it for a date. I had to finish five assignments on the weekend, not to mention revise notes for the coming minor tests. I couldn’t afford to fail in any course, and somehow I had this big urge to learn a lot in my final days at IIT. But a date with Neha was a date with Neha, so stapling my sheets for the ergonomics assignment, I ran out to the ice-cream parlour.
“Twenty minutes late! Do you realize you are twenty minutes late?” Neha said.
“Sorry, this assignment…”
“I have to go back early today. Dad’s elder brother and family are coming for dinner. Dad is going mad preparing for them. And since when were you into assignments so much?” She hadn’t removed
hands from hips.
“I don’t know. Just don’t want to take any chances. Can I buy you an ice-cream?”
“No thanks. I have already had one waiting for you. And with my relatives home tonight, there will be a big meal. And I am trying to reduce,” she said.
“Reduce what?” I asked.
“My weight,” she said.
“Really? Why? You look great,” I said.
“No way. You should see the girls in my college. Anyway, what have you been up to?” she said.
“Classes, classes and more classes. Eight to six ever y day. Then another three hours in the library. Then another two for assignments and revisions. I am going mad. But what to do? Never had this much course-load before.”
“What about Ryan and Alok?” she said.
“They are equally overworked. And we’ll still fall short of credits,” I said.
“What about your C2D, the whole cooperate to dominate…”
“That was all crap. It doesn’t work that way Neha. I know it doesn’t. I might be busy now, but at least I am learning something. I am not just cogging assignments and beating the system. That is not what it is about.”
“Wow, my loafer has become all serious. What is it about then?” Her voice went playful, always a good sign.
“It is about knowledge. And making the most of the system, even if it has flaws. And it is about not listening to bloody Ryan all the time,” I said.
“You are getting all wise. I miss my loafer,” she said.
I became quiet and looked into her eyes. Then, in one instant I got up and kissed her on the lips.
“Hari! Are you crazy? People know me here,” she said.
“Just to let you know the loafer is still there,” I said.
“Yeah right. Anyway, look what I got,” she said and took out a piece of paper from her bag.
“It’s your brother’s letter,” I said.
“Yes, his last. I want you to keep it,” she said.
“Why?” I said. It was a weird gift, to say the least.
“I don’t know. Dad doesn’t trust me anymore. And he comes and searches my room now and then. I don’t want him to find this.”
“Really? Is he giving you a lot of trouble?” I said.