Revolution Twenty20 Read online

  ‘I fell asleep. Such a boring lecture,’ I said.

  He laughed.

  ‘I gave them their bloody second installment today. Still they do this to me,’ I said.

  ‘Chill, we need more than tea today.’ Prateek stood up. We walked out of the teashop.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘My place,’ he said.

  Prateek’s room didn’t look like that of a hardworking repeater in Kota. Beer bottles outnumbered books, cigarette butts exceeded pens. The walls had posters of scantily-clad women instead of Resonance circulars.

  ‘You’ve really settled down here,’ I said.

  ‘I would if I could. My parents won’t fund me here after this year,’ he said. He took out a bottle of Old Monk from his cupboard. He poured the rum neat for me. It tasted terrible.

  ‘What happens after this year?’ I said.

  ‘Nothing. Reality check for my parents. Both of them are teachers. Hopefully, the passing of two years and half their life savings will make them realise that their son can’t crack any entrance exam.’

  ‘You can if you work hard,’ I said and kept my drink aside.

  ‘No, I can’t,’ Prateek said, his voice firm. ‘The selection rate is less than three per cent. Most of us can’t crack these tests, basic probability. But who will drill it into our parents’ heads? Anyway, finish your drink in one shot.’

  The rum tasted like some hot and bitter medicine. I forced it down my throat. I had to get over Aarti. Sometimes the only way to get rid of an unpleasant feeling is to replace it with another unpleasant feeling.

  I asked for another drink, and then another. Soon, Aarti didn’t seem so painful.

  ‘You loved her?’ Prateek said.

  ‘What is love?’

  ‘Love is what your parents give you if you clear the IIT exam,’ he said.

  We high-fived. ‘I did I guess,’ I said after a while.

  ‘How long?’ He lit a cigarette.

  ‘Eight years.’

  ‘Holy shit! Did you guys meet at birth in the hospital?’ Prateek said.

  I shook my head. Over the next three hours I told him my entire one-sided love story. From the day I had stolen her tiffin to the day she massaged my hand for the last time, and until she finally logged out and removed me as a contact.

  Prateek listened in silence.

  ‘So, what do you think? Say something,’ I said. To my surprise he was still awake.

  ‘You can talk a lot, man!’ He poured out the remaining rum for me.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said sheepishly. ‘Did I bore you?’

  ‘It’s okay. Try to forget her. Wish her happiness with her JEE boy.’

  ‘I can’t forget her. I haven’t studied a day since she stopped talking to me.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You will get another girl. Everybody gets a girl. Even the last rankers. How do you think India has such a large population?’

  ‘I’ll never marry,’ I said.

  ‘Then what? Marry your hand?’ Prateek burst out laughing.

  Men are useless. They hide their inability to discuss relationships behind lame jokes.

  ‘I better go,’ I said.

  He didn’t stop me. He lay on the floor, too tired to go to his bed. ‘Don’t lose your grip, man,’ he shouted after me as I left his house.

  Grip. Yes, that’s the word. The trick to these entrance exams is that you have to get a grip on them. You need a game plan. What are your strong subjects, which are your weak ones? Are you working with the teachers on the weak areas? Are you tracking your progress on the mock-tests? Are you thinking about nothing but the exam all day? Do you eat your meals and take your bath as fast as possible so that you have more time to study? If your answer is ‘yes’ to all these questions, that’s when you can say you have a grip. That’s the only way to have a shot at a seat. Of course, you could be one of those naturally talented students who never have to study much. But most of us are not, courtesy our parents’ mediocre genes. Ironically, these same parents who donated these dumb genes take the longest time to understand that their child is not Einstein’s clone.

  I had lost my grip. At least for the three months after Aarti cut me off. The spaced-out Prateek became my new and only friend. I attended classes, though my hangover made it difficult to understand Benzene structures or radioactive isotopes. I tried to do my practice sheets, but could not focus. The teachers started to see me as a quitter and stopped paying attention to me. I became a sucker-student, one of the no-hope kids who are only kept around because they paid the coaching centre.

  I had another problem to deal with. My expenses had increased, for I had to pay for rum. Prateek treated me a few times, but after a while he asked me to pay my share. I knew Baba had borrowed to pay the last installment and had no money. However, I had little choice.

  I dialled home from the STD booth one night.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t call last week, Baba,’ I said.

  ‘It’s okay. You are studying hard,’ Baba said, his voice very weak.

  ‘Baba, there is a little problem,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I need some new books. They are supposed to be the best for maths.’

  ‘Can’t you borrow them from someone?’

  ‘Hard to,’ I said. ‘Everyone wants to keep theirs.’

  Baba paused. I kept quiet, trying to recuperate from uttering so many lies at once.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Two thousand. They are imported.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Do you have the money, Baba?’

  ‘Can I send it in a week?’

  ‘How much loan did you take, Baba?’ I said.

  ‘Fifty thousand,’ he said. ‘I sent you thirty, but needed some extra to repair the roof.’

  ‘What about your medical bills?’

  ‘I owe twenty thousand to the hospital.’

  ‘You will anyway borrow more, right?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Send whatever you can. I will go now, it is an expensive call,’ I said, wanting to end the ordeal as soon as possible.

  ‘You will get selected, no, Gopi?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I will.’

  I kept the receiver down. I felt terrible. I resolved to study harder. I will get back into the twenty-five percentile, and then the top five percentile. I decided to study the entire night. However, I had a craving for rum first. My resolve weakened. I went to Prateek’s house and spent most of the night there. Nothing could motivate me to study. Then came my birthday.

  11

  My birthday came five months after my arrival in Kota. I did not think of it as a special day and planned to attend classes as usual. However, late night on my birthday eve, Mr Soni knocked on my door.

  ‘Someone on the phone, asking for you.’ He sounded drowsy.

  ‘Who is it?’ I said, surprised. ‘Baba?’

  ‘A girl,’ Mr Soni said. ‘And happy birthday, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said and picked up the phone. Who could it be? I thought. A teacher from Career Path? Did I do something wrong?

  ‘Happy birthday, Gopal.’ Aarti’s wonderful words fell like raindrops on a hot Kota afternoon. Emotions surged within me. I felt overwhelmed.

  ‘Aarti?’ I said. Uncontrollable tears ran down my cheeks.

  ‘So you still recognise my voice? I thought I’ll play a guessing game. Can we talk? Or am I disturbing you?’

  I had played out this scene – of speaking with Aarti – a million times in my head. I thought I would be curt with her if she ever called me. Like I didn’t care who she was. Or I would pretend to be busy. Of course, all those mental dress rehearsals flew out of the window. ‘No, no, Aarti,’ I said. ‘You are not disturbing me at all.’

  I had not felt better in months. Why did birthdays come only once a year?

  ‘So, doing anything special on your birthday?’ Aarti said.

  ‘Not really. Will go out for dinner with a friend.’

&nbs
p; ‘Friend? Date, eh?’ she said in her trademark naughty voice.

  ‘Prateek. It’s a guy,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, okay,’ Aarti said. ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘I am sorry about the chat the last time.’

  She kept quiet.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said those things. But you cut off contact …’

  ‘Nobody has ever spoken to me like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. Anyway, it’s your birthday. I don’t want you to feel horrible.’

  ‘How’s Raghav?’ I said, unable to control myself. More than anything, I wanted to know their relationship status.

  ‘He’s great. Finished his first semester at BHU.’

  ‘Must be mugging away.’

  ‘No, not that much. In fact, he edits the campus magazine now. Keeps talking about that.’

  ‘That’s great,’ I said. She still hadn’t told me about both of them. I did not want to pry too much like the last time.

  ‘He’s a great guy, Gopal. You should see him, how much he wants to do for the world.’

  I did not mind Raghav doing whatever he wanted for the world, as long as he left one person in the world alone. ‘I never said he is a bad person,’ I said.

  ‘Good. And I am happy with him. If you care for me as a friend, you should accept that.’

  ‘Are we friends?’ I asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t be talking to you otherwise, right?’ she said.

  I wanted to tell her she hadn’t spoken to me for three months. However, girls get extremely upset if you give them evidence contrary to their belief.

  ‘Yes, I guess,’ I said, and paused before I spoke again. ‘So we can talk?’

  ‘Yeah, as long as you don’t make me feel uncomfortable. And …’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Accept Raghav and me.’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’ I said.

  ‘That’s the point. I want you to accept it happily. I will be happy for you if you find the girl of your dreams.’

  So that’s it, Raghav is the man of her dreams.

  The rusty knife returned to my gut. I wondered what to say. ‘I do accept,’ I said after a while. More than anything, I didn’t want to lose touch with her again. My life in Kota had become hell after she disappeared.

  ‘Cool. Because I miss you,’ she said, ‘as a friend.’ She emphasised the last qualifier.

  Girls always leave subtle phrases as qualifiers, so you can’t put them in a spot later. Like if I told her, ‘but you said you missed me’, she would jump and say, ‘but I also said as a friend!’ as if we were in a court of justice. It is so hard to figure girls out. I could bet even the Career Path Gems could not do it.

  ‘You there?’ she said, interrupting my chain of thought.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said.

  ‘Okay, I have to go. Happy birthday again!’

  ‘Thank you, bye. Will speak to you or chat …’ I said and paused.

  ‘I will add you back on chat,’ she laughed.

  ‘Sorry again,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, birthday boy. If you were here I’d pull your cheeks,’ she said.

  That’s it. She had done it again – confuse me with a throwaway affectionate line. Did she like me or not? Oh well, Raghav is her man, I reminded myself.

  ‘Chat soon,’ she said and hung up.

  I felt so good that even the physics solutions guide on my desk looked kissable. I wanted to study. I wanted to live.

  Career Path would never know why I made it to the most-improved list once again. Aarti had me go back to studies in a big way. Maybe it was her simple ‘how was your day?’ in our chats. I also liked to be accountable to her, and report back to her on how productive the day had been. I told her about the equations taught in class, the feedback the teacher gave me (especially the praise), and how I planned to study late into the night.

  Deep down, I still wanted to impress her. I never gave up the idea of her having a change of heart. Mr Optimist-me never gave up.

  Maybe she will tell me on chat today how things aren’t working out with Raghav, or how she connects with me so much better than with her boyfriend.

  However, she never said such things, even though sometimes she came close. Once she told me Raghav was a stubborn pest. She said it after Raghav had ditched her for a movie date twice, because of a publication deadline for his college magazine. I couldn’t imagine any man skipping a chance to be with Aarti. I could skip my Career Path mock-test, let alone a stupid deadline for a stupid magazine. However, I didn’t tell her this. I knew my place; I, who could never compare myself to Raghav.

  I chatted with her one evening and talked about my class performance.

  GopalKotaFactory: So I reached 20th.

  FlyingAarti: 20th what?

  GopalKotaFactory: My percentile in class. This means 80% of the class did worse than me. My best performance ever!

  FlyingAarti: Wow! Cool!

  GopalKotaFactory: Long way to go still.

  FlyingAarti: You will get there, there’s time.

  GopalKotaFactory: Hardly. JEE and AIEEE are less than two months away.

  FlyingAarti: You’ll be fine.

  GopalKotaFactory: I hope so. I had slipped in the middle of the course.

  FlyingAarti: How come?

  GopalKotaFactory: No reason as such. Lack of focus. Anyway, can’t wait to get out of Kota.

  FlyingAarti: I know … it’s been so long since I saw you. Miss you.

  GopalKotaFactory: You do?

  FlyingAarti: Of course. See, Raghav has ditched me for Chak de India all week. If you were here, I could have seen it with you.

  GopalKotaFactory: You will come for movies with me?

  She didn’t respond. I waited for five minutes.

  GopalKotaFactory: ??

  GopalKotaFactory: You there?

  She didn’t answer. I wondered if I had asked something inappropriate. My heart began to beat fast. I wrote after five minutes.

  GopalKotaFactory: Hey, you upset? I am sorry if I said something wrong … You don’t have to …

  FlyingAarti: Hey, sorry …

  FlyingAarti: Boyfriend called to apologise. He’s finished his work. We are going for the movie!!

  GopalKotaFactory: Oh, that’s great.

  FlyingAarti: What were you saying … wait. Of course, we can see movies when you are back. Why are you sorry?

  GopalKotaFactory: Nothing, I just felt …

  FlyingAarti: Relax. Okay, I have to go get ready.

  GopalKotaFactory: Fine.

  FlyingAarti: I better look smashing to get his attention. Else, he’ll be proof-reading his articles on our date.

  GopalKotaFactory: Okay. I better study too.

  FlyingAarti: Two more months. Then we can all have lots of fun.

  GopalKotaFactory: Yeah. Thanks.

  FlyingAarti: Bye. Xoxoxo.

  And FlyingAarti logged out.

  I walked back home as slowly as possible. After all, I had nothing to look forward to but books. I tried not to imagine both of them in a theatre, hand in hand. I debated if I should be in touch with Aarti at all. However, I remembered the abyss I had fallen into the last time. A few jabs at the heart are better than a complete nervous breakdown.

  The Career Path instructors told us to go to sleep at 8:00 p.m. the night before the JEE exam. In our last class we had motivational speeches. Balance-ji gave examples of people ranging from Mahatma Gandhi to Muhammad Ali, people who never gave up and won against all odds. I pumped my fist like Ali, and charged out of the institute like Gandhi, to crack one of the toughest entrance exams in the world. On my way home, I called the two people who I thought may want to wish me luck.

  ‘My best wishes are always with you, my Gopi. Tomorrow is your chance to make your family name famous,’ Baba said.

  ‘Thank you, Baba,’ I said, keeping the call short.

  I dialled Aarti’s number next.

  ‘Hello?’ a male voi
ce surprised me. It did not sound like her father.

  ‘May I speak to Aarti, please,’ I said.

  ‘Sure, who’s this?’ the voice asked.

  ‘Gopal.’

  ‘Hi, Gopal. It’s Raghav,’ the voice said.

  I almost dropped the phone. ‘Raghav?’ I said. I had not spoken to him in almost a year.

  ‘You don’t keep in touch, Gopal. Though it’s my fault too,’ Raghav said.

  I didn’t know how much Raghav knew about Aarti and me, in particular about our showdown and the subsequent resumption of communication. I kept to a neutral tone and topic. ‘How’s BHU?’

  ‘So far so good. It’s like any other college. Just better facilities. How are you?’

  ‘JEE tomorrow. You can guess.’

  ‘I know. My college is a centre too. You didn’t come here to take it?’

  ‘I have classes until the last minute. Plus, my AIEEE final refresher starts tomorrow.’

  ‘Glad I am done with all that, man,’ Raghav laughed. Not unkindly, but I winced. When someone refers to your weak spot even indirectly, it hurts.

  ‘Me too, hopefully soon,’ I said.

  ‘You’ll crack it. Aarti tells me you are doing well.’

  So they do talk about me, I thought. ‘Who knows? Depends on the paper. So much of it is luck.’

  ‘True,’ Raghav said.

  We had an awkward nothing-to-say moment. It was his fault, as he forgot I had called for Aarti.

  ‘So, is Aarti around?’

  ‘Oh yes, hold on a second.’

  I heard her giggle. I wondered if Raghav had joked about me.

  ‘Hey! Best of luck, JEE boy,’ Aarti said.

  ‘Thank you. Need it.’

  ‘I went to the Vishwanath Temple,’ Aarti said, ‘to pray for you.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes. I dragged this lazy Raghav to take a bath and come along too,’ she said and laughed again. ‘We just came back … Hey, Raghav stop … stop … Hold on, Gopal.’

  I paid long-distance to hear their private banter. I heard Aarti tell Raghav to stop imitating her. But Raghav didn’t seem to have anything better to do.

  ‘Hello?’ I said after sixty seconds.

  ‘Hey, sorry,’ Aarti said as she composed herself. ‘Okay, now I have managed to turn away from him. Gopi, you will go into the exam centre super-confident, promise?’