Revolution Twenty20 Read online

  Raghav walked past the forty students in the crammed classroom to collect his answer-sheet.

  ‘Sixty-six out of eighty. Well done, Raghav,’ the teacher said.

  ‘IIT material,’ a boy whispered as Raghav walked past. ‘He is a topper from Sunbeam.’

  I could totally see Raghav follow in the footsteps of his IITian father, an engineer in BHEL. I scored fifty out of eighty, a borderline performance, good enough to become the twelfth man on a cricket team, but not quite player material.

  ‘Focus, Gopal,’ the teacher said. ‘You need sixty-plus to be safe.’

  I nodded. I wanted to get into a good engineering college. My father hadn’t heard any good news in years.

  ‘Aarti Pradhan!’ the teacher called out. The entire class turned to look at the girl in the white salwar-kameez, who made the otherwise drab coaching classes worthwhile.

  Aarti took her answer-sheet and giggled.

  ‘Twenty out of eighty is funny?’ the teacher frowned.

  Aarti covered her mouth with her palm and walked back. She had no intention of becoming an engineer. She had joined JSR because a) attending coaching classes could supplement her class XII CBSE studies, b) I had also enrolled so she would have company and c) the tuition centre never charged her, given her father was about to become the District Magistrate, or DM of the city.

  Aarti’s father had a relatively honest reputation. However, free tuitions came under the ambit of acceptable favours.

  ‘I have not even filled the AIEEE form,’ Aarti whispered to me.

  ‘My AIEEE rank is going to be horrible,’ I said to Raghav as I stirred my lemonade.

  We had come to the German Bakery near Narad Ghat, a touristy firang joint where white people felt safe from germs and the touts roaming around Varanasi. People sat on beds with wooden trays to eat firang food like sandwiches and pancakes. Two malnourished, old men played the sitar in one corner to give the Varanasi effect, as white people found it a cultural experience.

  I never thought much of the place. However, Aarti liked it.

  ‘I like how she has used a scarf to tie her hair,’ Aarti said, pointing at a female tourist. She had obviously ignored my AIEEE concerns.

  ‘Ten more marks and you will be fine. Relax,’ Raghav said.

  ‘One lakh students stand between me and those ten marks,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t think about the others. Focus on yourself,’ he said.

  I nodded slowly. Easy to give advice when you are the topper. I imagined myself in a sea, along with lakhs of other low-rankers, kicking and screaming to breathe. The waters closed over us, making us irrelevant to the Indian education system. Three weeks and the AIEEE tsunami would arrive.

  Aarti snapped her fingers in front of my face. ‘Wake up, dreamer, you will be fine,’ she said.

  ‘You are skipping it?’ Raghav turned to Aarti.

  ‘Yeah,’ she giggled. ‘Main Hoon Na is releasing that week. How can I miss a Shah Rukh film? They should postpone AIEEE.’

  ‘Very funny.’ I grimaced.

  ‘So you aren’t becoming an engineer. What will you do in life?’ Raghav asked Aarti.

  ‘Do I have to do something? I am an Indian woman. Can’t I get married, stay home and cook? Or ask the servants to cook?’

  She laughed and Raghav joined her.

  I didn’t find this funny. I could not think beyond the teeming millions of wannabe engineers who would wrestle me down in three weeks.

  ‘Why so serious, Gopal-ji? I’m joking. You know I can’t sit at home.’ Aarti tapped my shoulder.

  ‘Shut up, Aarti,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I know you want to be an air hostess.’

  ‘Air hostess? Wow!’ Raghav said.

  ‘That’s not fair, Gopal!’ Aarti screamed. ‘You are telling the world my secret.’

  ‘It’s only me,’ Raghav said.

  Aarti gave me a dirty look.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  Aarti and I had a deeper relationship. We saw Raghav as a friend, but not a close one.

  ‘You will make a great air hostess,’ Raghav said, his tone flirtatious.

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Aarti said. ‘Like dad is going to let me leave Varanasi. There are no airlines here. Only temples. Maybe I can be a temple hostess. Sir, please take a seat on the floor. Prayers will begin soon. Prasad will be served in your seats.’

  Raghav laughed again, holding his muscular abdomen. I hate people who are naturally gifted with a flat stomach. Why couldn’t god make six-packs a default standard in all males? Did we have to store fat in the silliest places?

  Raghav high-fived Aarti. My ears went hot. The sitar players started an energetic tune.

  ‘Aarti, what nonsense you talk,’ I said, my voice loud. The foreigners around us, here in a worldwide quest for peace, became alert.

  I didn’t like the we-find-each-other’s-lame-jokes-funny vibe between Raghav and Aarti.

  Raghav sucked the straw in his lemonade too hard. The drink came out through his nose.

  ‘Gross!’ Aarti said as both of them started a laugh-fest again.

  I stood up.

  ‘What happened?’ Raghav said.

  ‘I have to go. Baba is waiting,’ I said.

  The sound of Baba’s coughing drowned out the sound of the doorbell the first couple of times.

  ‘Sorry, I couldn’t hear,’ he said, opening the door.

  ‘You okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, it is the usual. I’ve made dal and roti.’

  ‘That’s the usual too.’

  My father had turned sixty last year. His non-stop coughing bouts made him look like an eighty-year-old. The doctors had given up. We had no money for surgery either. His school had fired him long ago. You can’t conduct a fifty-minute class with ten respiratory breaks. He had a pension that lasted us three weeks in a good month.

  I ate in silence at the wobbly dining table.

  ‘Entrance exam …’ my father started and paused to cough five times. I understood his drift.

  ‘I have finished the AIEEE preparation,’ I said.

  ‘JEE?’ Baba said. It is harder to manage family expectations than prepare for exams.

  ‘Don’t have IIT hopes for me, Baba,’ I said. My father’s face fell. ‘I will take the JEE. But, three thousand out of four lakhs … Imagine the odds.’

  ‘You can do it. You are bright,’ Baba said, paternal love obviously overestimating progeny’s abilities.

  I nodded. I had a shot at AIEEE, none at JEE. That was how I looked at it. I wondered if Baba realised that a rank would mean me leaving home. What if I had to go to NIT Agartala? Or somewhere far south?

  ‘Engineering is not everything, Baba,’ I said.

  ‘It secures your life. Don’t fight now, right before the exams.’

  ‘I’m not fighting. I’m not.’

  Post-dinner, Baba lay down on his bed. I sat next to him and pressed his forehead. He erupted into a coughing fit.

  ‘We should consider the surgery,’ I said.

  ‘For two lakhs?’ Baba said, lying back and shutting his eyes. I resumed the massage.

  I kept quiet. I didn’t want to bring up the touchy topic. We could have settled the land issue ages ago. Court hearings still haunted us, the land lay barren, and we had no money.

  ‘From where will we get the money, tell?’ my father said. ‘You become an engineer. Get a good job. Then we will do the surgery.’

  I could not stay quiet anymore. ‘Taya-ji offered ten lakhs. The money would have doubled in the bank by now.’

  Baba opened his eyes. ‘What about the land?’ he said.

  ‘What use is the stupid land?’

  ‘Don’t talk like that,’ he said, pushing my hand away. ‘A farmer doesn’t insult his land. He doesn’t sell it either.’

  I placed my hand back on his forehead. ‘We are not farmers anymore, Baba. We can’t use the land. Because your own brother …’

  ‘Go. Go and study, you have your exams coming up.’ Baba