Revolution Twenty20 Read online

‘Should we ask Ghanshyam taya-ji to give us whatever he wants for the land?’ I said.

  ‘No use. He won’t listen. Anyway, what will I do with an operation at this age?

  ‘You never listen, Baba.’ I shook my head and switched off the light.

  ‘It isn’t the end of the world, Gopal. It isn’t.’ She reached out for my hand. ‘Say something.’

  Aarti had invited me home on the day of the AIEEE results. She had an Internet connection and, despite my insisting otherwise, didn’t want me to see the results all on my own.

  I remember everything about that moment. The red and black embroidered tablecloth on the computer table, the noisy fan above, the various government trophies that belonged to her father, the black colour of the laptop, and the screen that showed my rank.

  ‘44,342,’ it said irrevocably next to my roll number.

  After one whole year of cramming courses that I hated, staying in a dusty city all alone, and putting my father irretrievably in debt, I had only reconfirmed – I am a failure.

  I didn’t react. I didn’t cry, I didn’t feel anger, fear, frustration, anything. I remember Aarti hovering around, talking to me. However, I couldn’t really comprehend her words.

  I stood up like a zombie.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Aarti shook me. She, me, the PC, the world, everything seemed to be in slow motion. ‘What about JEE?’ she was saying.

  ‘Will be worse. My paper did not go well.’

  She fell silent. What could she have said, anyway?

  ‘I have to go,’ I said.

  ‘Where will you go?’ she said, asking me the most important question. Yes, where could I go? Home? And tell Baba he had wasted all his borrowed money on me.

  ‘I’ll come home with you. I can talk to Baba.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she said.

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I hurried out of her house.

  ‘Where had you gone?’ Baba said as he opened the door.

  I went straight to my room. Baba followed me.

  ‘You don’t want to see your AIEEE result?’ he said.

  I kept quiet.

  ‘You said it comes out today.’

  I didn’t respond.

  ‘Why aren’t you speaking?’

  I looked into Baba’s anxious eyes.

  ‘I have bad news,’ I said.

  Baba spoke in a hushed voice. ‘What?’

  ‘The worst has happened.’

  ‘What?’

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘When are the AIEEE results out?’

  ‘They are out,’ I said and walked into the living room.

  ‘And?’ Baba followed me and stood right in front of me.

  I turned my gaze down. Baba waited for a few seconds.

  Slap! I felt my right cheek sting. For his age and strength, my father could strike quite a blow. He had hit me for the first time in more than ten years. I deserved it.

  ‘How?’ Baba said. ‘You did nothing in Kota, right? Nothing.’

  Tears filled my eyes and my ears buzzed. I wanted to tell him that I spent nights doing assignments, sat through classes all day, improved my percentile. I had had a decent chance to make it. A few marks are all it takes to fall behind ten thousand ranks.

  I didn’t say anything. I cried like a child, as if my remorse would make him feel better.

  ‘How do we return the money?’ Baba said, turning to practical matters faster than I thought.

  I had improved my rank, I wanted to tell him. The teachers at Career Path had told me I had potential. Yes, I did get distracted for a little while, and maybe that was why I hadn’t made it. Anyway, not everyone in Kota had made it. Most students of Career Path had not made it. In fact, Vineet, the boy from Varanasi who went before me to Kota, hadn’t made it either. But all I showed Baba was my sullen face.

  ‘What are you thinking? Do you have any shame?’ he said and went into a coughing fit. His body shook, he found it hard to balance.

  ‘Sit down, Baba,’ I said as I moved forward to hold him. His body felt warm.

  ‘Don’t come near me.’ He pushed me away.

  ‘You have fever,’ I said.

  ‘Guess who gave it?’ he said.

  I didn’t know what to say or do. I didn’t even find myself worthy enough to fetch his medicines from the other room. I had to let him be. When you screw up someone’s life, the least you can do is leave the person alone.

  ‘I have gone through it all. You must be so fucked,’ Vineet said to me.

  We sat on the steps of Assi Ghat, close to the pier. I had arranged a secret meeting with Vineet. I did not know him too well. I had only exchanged some emails with him before I left for Kota. But he seemed an ideal companion right now. Yes, Aarti kept in touch, asking me about my well-being and even going on boat rides with me. Yet, I had nothing to say to her. I thought about jumping into the Ganga and ending my life. Raghav was someone I avoided automatically now. I did not want reassurance from an IT-BHU guy, especially someone who did not even seem to care about his degree.

  Vineet, an ordinary guy like me, was someone I felt comfortable with. He had joined a private engineering college. ‘So I can tell people I am doing BTech,’ Vineet said and laughed. ‘Just avoid the college name. Anyway, it is unknown to most people.’

  I collected a few pebbles from the ghat steps and sent them skipping on the holy river.

  ‘You will be fine, dude,’ Vineet said. ‘Never completely fine, but at least better than right now.’

  ‘How did you choose among the private colleges?’ I said. There were dozens of them, with new ones opening every week.

  ‘I went to a career fair. I asked around. RSTC seemed slightly better than others. I don’t think there’s much difference.’

  ‘What’s RSTC?’ I said.

  ‘Riddhi Siddhi Technical College. The owners have a sari business with the same name.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, trying to make a connection between saris and education.

  ‘Quite a backward name, no? So we say RSTC, sounds cooler.’ Vineet grinned.

  ‘Do you get a job afterwards?’

  ‘If you are lucky. Sixty per cent placements. Not bad.’

  ‘Forty per cent students don’t get placed?’ I said, shocked. This could be worse than Kota, to finish your degree and get nothing at the end of it.

  ‘The stats are improving every year. Plus, you can manage some job. There are call centres, credit card sales. Be open-minded and things work out.’

  ‘Finish engineering and join a call centre?’

  ‘Dude, don’t be so shocked. We, like millions of other students, are the losers in the Great Indian Education Race. Be happy with whatever you get. Of course, if your parents are rich, do an MBA after BTech. Another shot at a job.’

  ‘And if not?’ I said.

  Vineet said nothing. Exasperated, I threw all the pebbles into the Ganga. Like low-ranked students, the stones sank and disappeared without a trace.

  ‘Hey, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t make the system.’ Vineet patted my shoulder. ‘The longer you sit idle, the worse you will feel. The dream is over. Join a college, any college, at least you will be with other students.’

  ‘Other losers,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t look down upon your own kind,’ Vineet said.

  He had a point. ‘I am sorry,’ I said. ‘How much does your BTech cost?’

  ‘One lakh a year for four years, including hostel.’

  ‘Fuck,’ I said. ‘That’s many years of salary a job would pay, if there is a job at the end of it.’

  ‘I know. But your parents pay the fee. And they get to brag to everyone their son is becoming an engineer. You are free for the next four years. Think about it, not a bad trade.’

  ‘We have no money,’ I said flatly.

  Vineet stood up. ‘That, my friend, is going to be an issue.’

  ‘Leaving?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, campus is twenty