Five Point Someone

  “Hi everyone,” Prof Veera said as he entered class. He offered chewing gum to the first row students. The front row guys were all mugging nine-pointers, and freaked out at his offer. They declined, and he shrugged and popped a piece in his mouth and turned to the board.

  “Turbulent flows,” he wrote in big letters on the board.

  “Guys, in the first five lectures, we studied simple flows called laminar flows. The shape and direction of these flows are predictable with the help of formulas and equations. You know which equation, right?”

  He looked around for answers. Unlike other profs, he did not stick to the first row. In fact, he scavenged at the back. “Okay, I am not going to ask the studious kids all the questions. I want to ask the cool dudes at the back.”

  Ryan and I were chronic backbenchers; out of sight, this was the most defensive position for the outcaste five-pointers, but Prof Veera did not care.

  “Ryan, tell me, which is the first principle equation for laminar flows?”

  “Sir, me?” Ryan said, surprised that a Prof would know his name.

  “Yes you, Ryan. I know you know the answer.”

  “The Navier-Stokes equation.”

  “Right. You want to write it down for the class?”

  Ryan ran up to the board and the nine-pointers in the front row smirked at a five-pointer contributing to class. The equation was right though; Ryan doesn’t go up to the board unless he knows he’s right.

  “Perfect, thanks Ryan. By the way, was it you who wrote the impact of lubricant efficiency on scooter fuel consumption in your last term paper?”

  “Well, yes sir.”

  “Is it true you actually tested the data on your scooter?”

  “Yes I did, sir. Not accurately though.”

  “I like that,” Prof Veera said, looking at the nine-pointers who were busy taking frantic notes like trained parrots. “I really like that.”

  Ryan came back to his seat. I could tell he loved fluid mechanics, and most of all, he loved Prof Veera. He never missed FluMech and he would do anything for Prof Veera. Others however – the testy design prof, the painfully dull solid mechanics prof and the assignment-maniac thermodynamics prof – were a different story. Ryan could cut up their guts with a lathe machine in the machining workshop given a chance.

  I met Neha at Priya cinema a week after the FluMech class. I would have said I met my girlfriend but the damn problem was I was still not sure. I had known her for over a year, but she called me different things depending on her mood. First, I was just a friend. Then I was a good friend, then a friend who was special, then really-really good and special friends or some such crap. For her, calling someone a boyfriend was a big thing. Her dad had made her promise that she would never have a boyfriend, and she wanted to keep it. Of course, it did not prevent her from watching movies with me hand in hand every two weeks for over a year.

  “Late again?” she said. I must have been late by like two minutes.

  “Had fluMech class. Prof Veera overshot time and we did not even realize it.”

  “Prof Veera is that young guy right?”

  “Yes, you know him?”

  “Not really. Dad mentions him. I think my dad hates him.”

  “Your dad sounds like a total...”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Let’s go in. I don’t want to miss the trailers.”

  The movie was Total Recall, another sci-fi action crap. That’s the thing about English theatres in Delhi. They either show action or adult movies. I don’t mind the latter except that you can’t really take a girl to them. Especially these really nice and good-Indian-traditional girls like Neha. So, you have the choice of sci-fi action nonsense or a Hindi movie. No self-respecting girl will watch a Hindi movie on a date. Hence, there I was again, to watch Arnold flex his muscles and blow up planets.

  “You like sci-fi,” she said as she took her seat.

  “I do,” I said. What choice did I have anyway?

  “Typical IIT engineer.”

  Yeah right. Typical IIT engineers, my girl, don’t skip design class to watch stupid movies.

  And then just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. Neha and I took our seats in the balcony (Rs 35/ticket, total rip-off) and waited for the trailers to begin. However, according to a new government regulation, the theatre had to screen a ‘family planning documentary’ first.

  Okay, so India has this big population. So maybe people should just use some protection and we would have less new people. Simple enough, right? So you would think. Apparently, nobody wants to use contraception, so the government has to show people a more permanent way to not have kids.

  The documentary began; a doctor in a government hospital introduced himself with a beatific smile. He was supposed to be your friend in family planning, though I think he was the angel of death, especially when he recommended one sure shot procedure – vasectomy.

  The documentary showed this mill worker who had this idyllic home where he lived with his simple wife (who cooked all the time) and two kids. Then one day he sleeps and has a dream that he has six kids or something (obviously that would have taken a lot of screwing his wife, but they skipped all that). The kids need more food, education, toys and keep asking dad for more. But dad is tired from the mill job (not to mention the screwing) and breaks down. That is when our friend in family planning or angel of death appears.

  The doctor had this portable flip-chart with a picture of the male anatomy. He opened it, and the whole theatre, especially the front rows, started hooting. (Theatres are the opposite of class lectures, the front row is where the action is.)

  Anyway, so all this is going on when I am on my date. I had never approached the topic of sex (let alone controlling sex) with Neha. But there he was, the angel of death, showing the exact location of the cuts so that the male organ came under control. I was embarrassed like every other man in the balcony.

  Neha looked at me, noticing I was shifting around in my seat.

  “You all right?”

  “Don’t you think this is too much? Why do they have show this indecent stuff?”

  “What? It is educational.”

  “Yeah, right. I need that when I come to see a movie.”

  “Oh come on Hari. I actually think it is pretty funny.”

  The wife on screen listened carefully to the doctor and smiled at the prospect of sex without any consequences. I think the doctor and the wife had a thing going, but that was just my imagination.

  To the relief of all, the documentary ended in like half an hour. The mill worker wakes up and realizes how he must control his family and signs his reproductive facilities away. Happy ending, smiling faces of wife and kids which turn into cartoons, and the inverted triangle of the population control department. ‘Small Family Happy Family’ was the last nugget of wisdom thrown at us before trigger-happy Arnold took over the screen.

  Neha held my hand as the movie began. She had grown comfortable with doing this and I could not hope for anything more. I remembered my last conversation with Ryan. Could Neha also secretly want to do more than hold hands? Could I just ask her? Should I just make a bold move?

  We went to Nirula’s after the movie for a meal. “So, what is Prof Veera like, tell me,” Neha said, cutting the pizza we ordered into equal-sized pieces. Girls love organizing food on a table.

  “He is really different,” I said. “Like he doesn’t discriminate between nine-pointers and five-pointers. And he likes original thinking. Even his assignments push you to think more.”

  “Like how?”

  “Like he gave a term paper asking students to think about an engineering problem linked to fluid mechanics. Most profs would have just said, ‘do all the numericals at the end of Chapter 10’ or something, but Prof Veera invites ideas.”

  “Sounds cool. Is he good looking?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then I should tr y to see him. Maybe I’ll ask dad to invite him home,” she sa
id and laughed.

  A surge of jealousy rose within me. Somehow Prof Veera didn’t seem so nice anymore. “Go to hell.”

  “Hey, are you getting jealous?”

  “No, why should I get jealous? I’m not your boyfriend.”

  Neha laughed really hard. Jokes only she finds funny. Stupid woman, I feel like cutting off her cute lock of hair.

  “I am just kidding, silly,” she said. “In any case my dad will kill me for that. And he hates him anyway. But it is nice to see you all worked up.”

  “I’m not.”

  She held my hand, though she hadn’t stopped laughing. What is so funny to women all the time? And why do I still find her so beautiful? And why the hell can’t I kiss her?

  She stopped laughing and got back her composure. “Sorry, Hari. Don’t feel bad, you are my sweetest little special friend.”

  Now what is that? Another title for the fortnight?

  She bent forward to kiss my cheek. Now is my chance, I thought. Give her the illusion that you don’t care then as soon as her mouth comes to the cheek, jerk once and move your lips there instead. This is the only way to kiss good Indian women, Ryan told me.

  “What are you doing?” Neha pulled back.

  I tried to look innocent.

  “Were you trying to kiss me on the lips?”

  “No.”

  “Hari, you know I am not into that.”

  Then what the hell are you into? Funny private jokes? Or your stuck-up father?

  “Because this is wrong. This spoils everything. Because it feels wrong. You are not a girl, you won’t understand.”

  Yes, I wanted to say, and you are not a guy, so you will not understand. So, should we just eat our pizza and go home? I didn’t say anything. I had lost my chance, and right then even my desire. Besides, her face had turned sad. I didn’t want her to be upset. Because we fixed our next date at the end of the meal. I didn’t want to not fix the next date. “This pizza is good.”

  “You want to meet next Thursday?”

  “Sure.”

  “I have to buy a gift for a friend’s birthday. Will you come to Connaught Place with me?”

  I agreed. I was sick of Priya and all the overpriced dating alternatives around it.

  “Cool. I’ll get the car, and pick you up from the ice-cream parlour,” she said.

  I scraped through the crumbs on the pizza plate without looking up.

  “Venkat, I have certain responsibilities…” Alok said.

  “But they aren’t my problem are they? This is the third time this month. It is about time I stop listening to this sort of stuff,” Venkat said, interrupting him.

  It was a chilly February night. The noise came from inside Venkat’s room. Ryan and I were in the corridor of our wing, returning from one of our visits to the canteen.

  “Why are they talking so loudly?” Ryan said.

  “I don’t know. Normally muggu Venkat’s room is pretty quiet.”

  Ryan put his ear on Venkat’s door.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “Shh... I think they’re having an argument.”

  “What do we have to do with it? Let’s go,” I said.

  “Shh…come here,” Ryan said.

  At some level, even I was curious about the argument. Was it a big one? What was it about? I put my ear on the door, and every word could be heard loud and clear.

  “Alok, this is too much. I mean, I have to study for ten hours a day to keep my GPA. The least I can expect is to count on my group partners,” Venkat was saying.

  “My dad has become unconscious. We are worried he may have had a stroke! Two calls have come from home...” Alok said.

  “Listen, your mom always overplays your dad’s illness. He will recover, how will your making a trip help?”

  “I am the only man in the house Venkat. I want to go. Can’t you take care of it this time?” “Actually, no. I have to study class notes for other subjects. I don’t think you realize this, I mean how would you being a five-point something,” Venkat said.

  “Realize what?” Alok said.

  “That I have to maintain my rank. The second guy in the department is only 0.03 behind me you know. Now should I finish this group assignment or read my notes?” Venkat said, or rather shouted.

  “Bloody mugger,” Ryan whispered in my ear. I signalled Ryan to keep quiet.

  “Venkat you study all the time. Can’t you just…” Alok said.

  “I am a nine-pointer, do you understand? I have to maintain my position!” Venkat said, speaking more to remind himself than to tell Alok.

  “But am I not your friend? You know I have to take care of my dad,” Alok said, this time pleading more than protesting. “Enough!” Venkat said, “this assignment is worth ten percent. Alok, you can’t go.”

  “Venkat please,” Alok said, and voice started to sound like his mother’s, which meant he was going to cry soon.

  “This is too much, I am going in,” Ryan said, kicking the door open. I would have tried to stop him, but Ryan acted in a nanosecond.

  Alok was standing next to Venkat, who sat on the study chair. They turned toward us in surprise.

  “What the...” Venkat said, “Ryan, what are you doing here?”

  It was a valid question. What was a five-pointer doing in a nine-pointer’s room? Venkat looked at Ryan as if a person searching for a bar had reached a temple.

  “What’s the problem?” Ryan said, completely ignoring Venkat.

  I stood there silently, checking out Venkat’s room. Apart from a bed and a few clothes, there were just books, books and more books.

  “Ryan, it has got nothing to do with you,” Alok said. I could tell he was shocked to see Ryan, yet somewhere deep down, like he felt his saviour was there.

  The pathetic ‘I-will-cry-any-moment’ expression had vanished.

  “I said, what’s the problem?” Ryan said.

  “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” Venkat said. “We have a Thermo assignment due tomorrow, and Alok and I are in the same group. It is ten percent. Yet, he wants to go home…”

  “I am not off on some tour, Dad is really sick,” Alok said.

  “Do you want me to go?” Ryan asked.

  I was left puzzled. One year of silence, and now this sudden offer of help.

  Did Ryan really want to get back with Alok or was he just proving what a prick Venkat was?

  “Huh? You? Where...home?” Alok said.

  “Yes, I know where you live and I have taken your dad to the hospital before. I have a scooter too and will get there faster. Or, if you need to go, then I can help you finish the assignment, except I don’t want to work with this mugger bastard friend of yours,” said Ryan, stressing on the word ‘friend’.

  This was too much. Ryan was acting like a Mother Teresa for Alok. The person Alok had insulted and left, was today a cure-all fairy from heaven. I looked at Venkat, who looked like a younger version of any of the anally retentive profs in the institute. He had put enough oil in his hair to cook an entire Kumaon dinner, his forehead sported an ash-mark from his devout prayers. Yet, at that moment, it was Ryan who looked like an angel.

  “Really?” Alok said.

  “So I go then,” Ryan said and stood up. Alok nodded and Ryan left the room.

  We remained silent for a minute. Ryan had solved a problem that could save a sick man’s life and offer a nine-point mugger a future. All with a scooter ride to Alok’s home.

  “Well, that settles it then. I’ll leave you to do the thermal assignment,” I said and stood up to leave the room.

  “Wait,” Alok said.

  “What?” I said.

  Alok walked out of the room with me. Wasting no time, Venkat took out the thermodynamics book, giving Alok a glance which meant ‘come back soon’.

  “Thanks,” Alok said.

  “Thank Ryan,” I said.

  “Yes, I will. Is he still mad at me?”

  “Obviously not, or why would he have gone
to your house?”

  “But you know Ryan, he could do things for you and yet be mad at you.”

  “Yes, he can sulk. But what difference does it make. Just thank him later.” I was getting irritated with Alok. I didn’t think he had the right to say he knew Ryan anymore, certainly not as much as me. “Hari?” Alok said. “You think I can come back?” “Come back where?” I was bewildered. “You know, the three of us again.” “Why? Venkat isn’t working out for you?” “I didn’t know what I was doing man. I want to move back.” I couldn’t believe my ears. The difference one year with an obnoxious nine-pointer can make! “You sure?”

  “Yes, I am sure.” Alok’s voice was small.

  And then, like sentimental fools, we hugged each other. I think Alok was dying for a cry and he shed a few tears that he always has spare. I was kind of mellow too, I’d never thought the three of us could be together again. I knew Ryan would do some drama, but finally he would agree. If he could spend hours taking care of Alok’s half-dad, he certainly felt something for him. “Good. Welcome back then,” I said.

  “Yes. Right after this damn thermal assignment though,” Alok said and we laughed together for the first time in over a year.

  9

  —

  The Mice Theory

  PREDICTABLY, RYAN POUTED OVER PRODIGAL ALOK’S return but not for too long as it was kind of pointless. After Alok had shed yet more tears, we all bear-hugged and just like that we were back to being a group once again. Venkat’s hissed curses we ignored happily because he had his books, but we had each other.

  Ryan threw a party to mark the historical event. He did the arrangements himself and that included cleaning up his room – a Herculean task in itself given he had not disturbed the layers of dust with as much as a sneeze for several months.