Five Point Someone

  Alok went for twenty minutes. It was my turn as soon as he came out.

  A thirty-year-old man welcomed me into the interview room.

  “Hi, I am Kamal Desai. You are Hari, right?” he said.

  “Yes sir,” I said.

  “Sit down, sit down. And don’t sir me, call me Kamal.”

  I sat down quietly. Kamal browsed through my files and then stopped at the grade sheet.

  “Hmmm…5.48 overall, what happened?” He looked into my eyes.

  It was right at this moment when I should have had my panic attack. But I didn’t this time. I don’t know why, but ever since I saw Ryan’s plan fail, Alok jump and Cherian cry, the whole wide world didn’t intimidate me anymore.

  “I screwed up my first semester, sir…I mean Kamal. And it is really hard to come back in IIT if you miss the first time.”

  “That is very interesting. What happened in the first sem?” Kamal said

  “Don’t know. Felt like enjoying college life a bit. I guess IIT is not that type of college,” I said.

  “Yes, IITs are truly different. Tell me, do you like IIT?” Kamal said.

  It was a loaded question. A question no one had asked me before. I had thought I’d be quick to say how I hated every living moment of it, but couldn’t. I remembered my first day – the day Ryan saved me from Baku and his coke bottles. Four years, and soon it would be time to leave this place. Did I like it here?

  “I don’t know. There are things I’d rather forget. But I met my best friends here, and hopefully this place will get me a job,” I said.

  Kamal laughed. I could see him as one of the students ten years ago. I wondered what his GPA had been in his time. That is the thing about IIT, you see people and you wonder what their GPA was. You kind of need that to judge them. Sad.

  Kamal asked me a few more questions about why I wanted to join the software sector. Hell, I’d kiss any sector that would give me a job. And this was my one chance.

  “It was very interesting talking to you. That’s all for now,” Kamal said as he escorted me out of the room.

  “Interesting talking to you” – I repeated the phrase three times in my head. What was that supposed to mean? Just a polite way of saying I was weird and stood no chance? Or did my pathetic resume file really charm him?

  We waited another hour for the results. And that is when I realized that for once my luck might have turned for the better.

  “Hari, you and I have made it! You got an offer in Bombay and I got Delhi,” Alok said and tugged at my shirt.

  I became numb and couldn’t answer him for the next five minutes. A crowd of students almost crushed me in their rush to the notice board. I was lost in my thoughts. Just a few days ago, I was planning to spend an extra year to complete five credits and collect a tainted grade sheet. Now I had a way out. And I had a job.

  “I didn’t get it,” Ryan said.

  “What?”

  That had to be a mistake. How could Alok and I get a job while Ryan not?

  “What happened?” I said.

  “I don’t know. Fuck man, fuck-fuck-fuck,” Ryan said as he walked away from us.

  “Where is he going?” Alok said.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  For a couple of moments I forgot my own job. Ryan had not got a job? He was the creative, confident, smart one. He was what I always wanted to be. So he had almost the lowest grade in the insti, but this is Ryan, hello?

  “We got a job, Hari. Six grand a month,” Alok said.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah,” I said, suspending my concern for Ryan for a while. “So, we’re not just five-point somethings anymore, we are five point somebodies.”

  Alok spoke to his parents on the phone for two hours that night. I think he read out the whole offer letter to them. His mother noted down the entire package – basic salary, travel allowance and of course, the much needed medical benefits. Alok was thrilled.

  I was still kind of numb. When good things happen to you, you kind of feel there is something odd. Like this could be a dream. That Kamal Desai of Technosoft will call me and say it was all a bad joke. And then again, the job was in Bombay.

  “What is with you? You don’t seem so excited,” Alok said as he got out of the phone booth.

  “I am. I am. But it is in Bombay. What about Neha?” I said.

  “What about her? You’ll still continue after IIT?” Alok asked naively, as if she had been part of my curriculum here.

  “Why not?” I said, placing my fingers in the booth’s grill.

  Alok shrugged his shoulders. It was pointless talking to him. He would have rather discussed the dental benefits that the job gave us.

  “Where is Ryan?” I said.

  “I think he went to the lab. He said he wanted to talk to Prof Veera,” I said.

  “I hope he finds something. I think that is the other reason why I can’t be so fully excited,” I said.

  “It’s hard for him. He is only 5.01, and the last in class. It is difficult for him to get placed,” Alok said.

  “But he is so smart. I mean, the lube project is basically all his,” I said.

  “GPAs matter,” Alok said and walked away.

  Ryan did not get a job for another month. Our semester sped by really fast, especially since we were so busy trying to meet our deadlines. Ryan kept applying to companies, but he only got two more interviews. The last guy in the class always found it hardest to get a job. For that matter, if Kamal Desai was not into honesty appreciation that day, I might have been in Ryan’s situation.

  “You guys can’t lose heart. Ryan, you must keep trying,” Prof Veera exhorted as we stood in the lab.

  Ryan’s scooter engine was running at full blast. Today’s mixture had an unusually bad smell, stinking up the whole lab. I kind of wished this was not the optimal mix for our final lubricant.

  “I can’t Prof Veera. It is not going to work,” Ryan said, looking at the exhaust fumes coming out of the engine.

  “Of course, it will. But I do feel you are made for better things than a run-of-the mill software job,” Prof Veera said.

  “What do you mean?” Ryan said.

  “I mean you should work in research. What is in a software job? You are contract labour at cheap prices for foreigners. Ryan, you really think you will be happy there?”

  “I would be,” Alok said.

  “I am asking Ryan. You guys are friends, but you all could want different things you know,” Prof Veera said.

  “Like what? What else can I do?” Ryan said.

  “Would you like to work as my RA?” Prof Veera said. “Research Assistant. I can get you a two-year contract. Will not pay a lot, say two thousand a month. But you live on campus, and you can continue research on lubricants.”

  I saw Ryan’s face. The Rs 2000-number was writ large on his face; a third of what our jobs would pay us. Would Ryan be able to accept that?

  “It is an idea,” he said eventually.

  “It is a great idea. And if we find an investor who is willing to commercialize your product, who knows how successful you can be,” Prof Veera said.

  Ryan looked at me. Somehow, I felt he wanted me to make a decision for him. I thought about it less than I should have, but gave my answer.

  “I think you will be happy doing this, Ryan. And I am sure you will find an investor for it one day,” I said.

  “I project the market for this product at atleast ten crore. You’ll get a royalty of, I don’t know, say ten percent. Of course, if we find someone who invests in the factory first,” Prof Veera said.

  “I’ll do it,” Ryan smiled, “I am your RA, sir.”

  “Yes!” I said and hi-fived him.

  “I guess all of us are officially employed,” Alok said, “can we party now?”

  “Of course, you should. But go easy on the vodka,” Prof Veera said but he was grinning.

  27

  —

  Five Point Someone

  IT WAS THE CONVOCATION DAY,
OFFICIALLY OUR LAST DAY at IIT. We’d struggled unto the end, but had finally made it! We had passed all our final semester courses, finished our lab work and had all secured some sort of a job. It is the least any IITian can expect in four years, but to us it was nothing short of a miracle. I had hardly spoken to Neha in the past few weeks. I called once after I got the job, and she cried because (a) she was so happy for me and (b) because it was in Bombay. It is not easy to figure out how girls cry for two different reasons at the same time. But I didn’t push her much. She also said it was best we didn’t meet for a while, lest Cherian find out and flare up again. Frankly, that was fine with me (even though I made a big fuss) with all these damn courses. I had not seen Cherian after that day in his office when he was stoned enough to pardon me. But today, I would see him again. After all, the head of the department makes a speech to the passing-out batch. We were part of the passing-out batch and that was celebration in itself.

  Alok, Ryan and I wore our graduation robes. As usual, Ryan looked the best. “I am not sitting in front. You can’t fall asleep in front,” I protested, as we reached the convocation hall.

  “No, it is our last day. I want to see everything,” Alok insisted.

  “Then get your glasses fixed,” Ryan said.

  Alok insisted on sitting in the first row and we sat down facing the podium. We looked back at the guests’ gallery.

  “That is my mom and didi in the aisle. See Dad is there, too,” Alok said as he waved at a wheelchair.

  “Your parents are here too, right?” I said to Ryan.

  “Yes, they flew in last night. I told them not to come, but they did. See, there they are in the third row,” Ryan pointed out with quiet pride.

  Yes, there they were, along with the parents of three hundred students. The huge convocation hall held them all, the whole insanely proud lot.

  I saw Neha. She had come with her father, and sat primly with other faculty families. I waved to her and ten other profs waved back.

  “Sit down Hari. It is about to begin.” Alok pulled me down.

  Prof Cherian took the stage, all the waving and murmurs ceased, and the convocation hall became silent as a tomb.

  “Good morning. As head of the Mechanical Engineering department I welcome everyone to this convocation ceremony. Today we are proud to give a new batch of the brightest mechanical engineers to this country. I give this speech every year, and I have done so for ten years now,” Prof Cherian said and paused to have a sip of mineral water.

  “Ten years! This guy’s really been around,” Alok whispered.

  “To torment class after class,” Ryan supplied.

  “Shh!” I said.

  “And every year I make a similar speech, congratulating our best students and talking about how they should continue to achieve in the future. In fact, I make the speech by looking at what I said last year. However, this year I am going to do something different. In fact, I don’t even have a written speech. I just want to tell you a story.”

  A murmur threaded through the crowd. No one expected Cherian to tell stories. Announce the toppers, wish everyone the best and close it. What was going on?

  “Once upon a time there was a student in IIT. He was very bright, and this is true, his GPA was 10.00 after four years. He didn’t have a lot of friends, as to keep such a high GPA, you only have so much time for friends.”

  The crowd dutifully chuckled.

  “But he did have classmates. Classmates who this bright boy thought were less smart than him, classmates who were selfish and wanted to make the most money or go to the USA with minimum effort. And the classmates did exactly that. They went to work for multinationals and some went abroad. Some of them opened their own companies in the USA – mostly in computers and software. This was twenty years ago mind you, so computers were a very new thing.”

  Prof Cherian paused again for water.

  “What is his point?” Alok said.

  “I don’t know. I told you not to sit in the front row. We can’t even sleep now,” Ryan said.

  “But the bright boy stayed behind. Because he had principles. He did not want to use his education for selfish personal gain. He wanted to help the country. He wanted to do research and he stayed back at IIT. Of course, getting a research project approved in IIT is harder than inventing the telephone,” Prof Cherian said as the faculty in the audience smiled.

  “So our bright boy was disappointed. He still kept trying but apart from being a Professor, there isn’t much one could achieve here. Ten years passed, when his friends from college visited home. One of them had a GPA of seven point something, and he had his own software company. The turnover had reached two hundred million dollars. Another friend was heading a toothpaste MNC, and came in a BMW. Of course, this didn’t bother the principled bright boy. Or so he thought.

  “As you guessed, that bright boy was me. And at that time I thought it didn’t matter if others had achieved more personally. I was still the one with the better GPA, the smarter one, the brighter one. Somehow, on that day, I decided my son must get into IIT. I wanted him to carry on my family’s strong intellectual tradition. Strong intellectual tradition – that is what I called it. But it was just my big ego. My son wanted to be a lawyer, hated maths. I hated him for hating maths. I pushed him just as I pushed students in my class. He failed to get in the first time and I made life hell for him. He failed a second time and I made his life an even bigger hell. Then he failed to get in the third time. And this time, he killed himself.”

  The crowd gasped. Students and even some of the faculty members started whispering.

  “You all know that I have a daughter. But I also had a son, who died in a rail track accident five years ago. At that time, we thought it was an accident. But this…” Cherian said as he pulled out Samir’s letter, “is my son’s letter I got only a few weeks ago. He wrote this to my daughter on the day he died. He killed himself because he did not get into IIT. He killed himself because of me,” Cherian said and paused for a long time. He removed his spectacles and wiped his eyes. The audience was silent enough to hear Cherian’s mild sobs.

  “He is crying,” Ryan said.

  “I told you. This is nothing compared to…” I stopped as Cherian began again.

  “I am sorry everyone for bringing up this sad story on your special day. I told myself that if I admit to my mistake publicly, perhaps my son will forgive me. And I wanted to thank the one student in this class because of who I found out the truth. It is my daughter’s boyfriend – Hari. And he is here sitting right in the front row.”

  “Wow!” Alok and Ryan said in unison. All eyes turned to me. I have never been so embarrassed in my life. This is not the limelight one wants. I wished he’d just move on from here, but he didn’t.

  “Let me tell you something about this boy Hari and his friends Alok and Ryan. They are the under-performers. That is what I used to call students with low GPAs. And they do have a low GPA – five point something is low, right?” Cherian asked in a jestful manner.

  “My daughter found it easier to trust Hari with the letter. She defied me, lied to me and ignored me just to meet him. Somewhere down the line, this perfect ten-GPA Professor standing in front of you had gone wrong. Really wrong.”

  I sat back, listening to Cherian carefully. I kind of felt sad and for the first time felt he just may have a heart.

  “And that is when I realized that GPAs make a good student, but not a good person. We judge people here by their GPA. If you are a nine, you are the best. If you are a five, you are useless. I used to despise the low GPAs so much that when Ryan submitted a research proposal on lubricants, I judged it without even reading it. But these boys have something really promising. I saw the proposal the second time. I can tell you, any investor who invests in this will earn a rainbow.”

  “Did you hear that Hari?” Ryan said.

  I nodded.

  “Anyway, this is my message to all you students as you find your future. One, believe in
yourself, and don’t let a GPA, performance review or promotion in a job define you. There is more to life than these things – your family, your friends, your internal desires and goals. And the grades you get in dealing with each of these areas will define you as a person.

  “Two, don’t judge others too quickly. I thought my son was useless because he didn’t get into IIT. I tell you what, I was a useless father. It is great to get into IIT, but it is not the end of the world if you don’t. All of you should be proud to have the IIT tag, but never ever judge anyone who is not from this institute – that alone can define the greatness of this institute.”

  The crowd responded with wild applause.

  “And lastly, don’t take yourself too seriously. We professors are to be blamed even more for this. Life is too short, enjoy yourself to the fullest. One of the best parts of campus life is the friends you make. And make sure you make them for life. Yes, I have heard the stories. Sometimes I wish I had had a friend, even if that meant a lower GPA. It must be good to have vodka on top of the institute roof at night.”.

  Cherian got a standing ovation.

  The applause got louder, in fact it was right under my ears, on my shoulder.

  “Wake up you lazy bozo,” Ryan said, clapping my shoulder so hard my dream paused and faded out like a defective videotape.

  “What?” I rubbed my eyes.

  “Yes, it is me. So tell me Mr Hari, how does it feel to miss your convocation after you make all this effort to get into IIT.” That was Ryan’s cocky voice all right.

  “What the...what time is it?” I craned my neck to look at the alarm clock. It said seven a.m, clearly in contrast to the sun outside.

  “Looks like your clock has also had enough of this place. It is past eleven. Both of us slept through our convocation,” Ryan said wryly.

  I got out of bed and went outside to the balcony; the hostel was empty.

  Damn, I had slept through graduation day. Worse, Cherian had not really cried.

  “Fuck!” I said, borrowing Ryan’s vocabulary. “Fuck. Does that mean they’ll not give us the degree?”