Five Point Someone Read online

  She was wearing a demure white salwar-kameez that day. She held my hand as she took the cone from me. God, she is beautiful, I tell you.

  “So how am I supposed to reach you?”

  “Call me on the 11th.”

  A pink tongue darting out to catch some melted cream from reaching the ground had disoriented me. “Huh?”

  “Just call me on the 11th of any month.”

  Now Neha is beautiful and everything, but she can be pretty loony at times.

  “What? Why 11th?”

  “Because no one is at home that day. You see, my brother died on 11th May. So on every 11th my parents go to this temple near the rail-tracks where he died. They are gone most of the day.”

  “Really? And you don’t go?”

  “I used to. But it used to remind me of Samir a lot. I’d be depressed for days afterward and the doctor told me not to go.”

  She said it matter of factly, as if she were choosing an ice-cream flavour. It was strange, but a hell of a lot better than her gearing up to cry or something; I can’t stand people who cry in public.

  “Only on 11th?”

  “Well for now, that is the only safe date,” she said and laughed, “why? You want to talk more often?”

  I did not answer her. I mean, I just thought it weird that I could call her only on that one day a month, like I had a dental appointment or something. But girls are weird, I was learning.

  “So tell me,” she said tapping my hand again to change the topic, “how were the majors?”

  I loved it when she touched me in any way, that’s how deprived or depraved I was; I almost forgot her question in the aftermath of the tiny localized tremors exploding on my skin’s surface.

  “Uh majors…nothing great. Results come in one week or so.”

  “Did well?”

  “Not really.”

  “You want me to put in a word to Dad to increase your grades?” she said.

  “Can you?” The pinkness enveloped me.

  “I’m kidding.”

  Of course. She giggled as if she had got me. Like I thought I believed she could help me with my grades or something. Girls love laughing at their own jokes but Neha amused is better than Neha looking around furtively.

  I suddenly leaned forward, bringing my face close to hers. Catching her breath, stifling that laugh and pink tongue, she watched me wide-eyed. I removed the wallet from my back pocket and sat down casually again.

  “What happened?” I asked idly.

  “I thought…never mind.” She blinked.

  Ha, gotcha.

  6

  —

  Five-point Something

  “THEY’RE OUT!” ALOK SAID, SHAKING RYAN’S SHOULDER on a Saturday morning as if India had won the World Cup or nude women were rolling on the grass outside. “The major results are out!”

  “I want to sleep,” Ryan said, burrowing deeper under the quilt that Alok eventually succeeded in tugging off.

  We reached the insti where a crowd of students had gathered to see their first set of grades. From these one could determine their first grade point average, or GPA, on the 10point scale. The topper would be close to 10.00, while the average would be around 6.50. We, however, were closer to the bottom. Clicking through the scientific calculator, Alok calculated our scores.

  “Ok, Hari is at 5.46 and… Ryan is at 5.01 and I …I’m at 5.88,” Alok said.

  “So all of us are five-pointers,” I said, as if making a particulary insightful comment.

  “Congrats Alok, you have topped amongst us,” Ryan said.

  Topped amongst us, I thought. As if we were the high-brain society or something. These were pathetic grades: we ranked in the high 200s in a class of 300 students. Alok recalculated his score, hoping for some miracle to happen on the calculator. But miracles never happen in IIT, only crap grades do.

  “Screw that. Bloody hell, I am just a 5.88. This is so below average.”

  “We knew that, right?” Ryan said, “Whatever. Alok, let’s celebrate this over chicken.”

  “Celebrate!” Alok spluttered. “I have just screwed up any chance of getting a US scholarship or a good job and you want to bloody celebrate?”

  “Grow up, Fatso. What do you want to do? Mug more in mourning?” Ryan was calm.

  “Fuck you,” Alok said.

  It was the first time he had used the ‘F’ word. From him, it sounded peculiar, I mean he is still a kid.

  Ryan’s calmness vanished faster than a prof ’s smile. “What did you say?” he turned toward me, “What did the Fatso say?”

  Why was the bastard dragging me into this? Ryan had damn well heard what Alok said. In fact, all the twittering students around us had heard it too.

  “C’mon guys, let’s take the show to the hostel,” I pleaded. I don’t care if they kill each other, but privacy I insist on. They were in no mood to let go and for a moment I thought they were going to ignore me and have a fisticuff right there. Somehow, I knew this wasn’t one of the regular Ryan-Alok arguments; this had, at its core, their basic character contrasts.

  “Let’s go,” I said again and they dragged their feet back to the scooter. Ryan rode us back to the hostel as rashly as he possibly could, intentionally going over ever y bump on the road. He has his own strange way of sulking I tell you.

  We sat in Ryan’s room after dinner, we had not spoken a word since the insti. I had thought a little about my little GPA. Yes, a five-pointer was pretty crap. From now on, every prof would know that I was a below average student and that would influence my grade in future courses. I knew a few five-pointers who were panned at campus recruitment last year. This was crap, how did I get into this situation? Was I just not smart enough? At the dinner table, other students were either plain morose or extremely excited. There was the studious Venkat, who never left his room and was always quiet at meals. Today, he was smiling. He had a nine point five. He sat next to Alok, and told his stories of topping in four out of six courses. Alok was talking only to him and totally ignoring us. There were others too. Even the Smiling Surd in our wing had managed a respectable seven point three. I think the three of us were the lowest in Kumaon or something. I could have mulled more over my future, or rather the lack of it, but Ryan and Alok’s swollen faces filled my immediate vision.

  We trooped into Ryan’s room and sat quietly for half an hour or so. Nobody opened a book, looked at each other or said a word. I wondered if we were going to stay quiet forever. I mean, that couldn’t be such a bad thing. We could attend class, study together and eat together, quiet as mice. Maybe our grades would improve as well. It really isn’t that important for people to talk.

  But my rosy fantasy of silence was finally broken by Ryan.

  “So, you are not going to apologize?” he asked belligerently.

  “Apologize? Me? It is you who should apologize Ryan,” Alok said.

  “You are the one who said ‘fuck you’ in front of the whole damn insti,” Ryan said, “and I should apologize? Hari, can you believe this? I should apologize.”

  Now this had nothing to do with me, so I ignored Ryan. Let the two nuts figure it out amongst themselves.

  “You just don’t fucking get it do you?” Alok said, going the ‘damn’ way with ‘fuck’.

  Ryan kept silent.

  “Get what?” I said. I mean, I really wanted to know what I was missing in this moronic conversation.

  “Get this. Today I got a GPA of 5.88. Damn it, a 5.88. Over 200 students have done better. Do you know in my twelve years in school I never even got a second rank.”

  In most parts of the world, that would be a pretty loser statement to make. To announce that you were like this nerd in school is hardly something to be proud of. But that is Alok for you.

  “So?” Ryan said, “your insti grades are bad. And who cares about how much you mugged. Why the hell should I apologize?”

  “Because damn it…because it is your damn fault,” Alok said and stood up.

  No