Five Point Someone Read online

  But take Ryan’s scores. I wondered if it had been worth it for him to even study last night. I was two points ahead of him, or wait a minute, sixty-six per cent ahead of him, that made me feel better. Thank god for relative misery!

  Alok had the highest percentage amongst the three of us, but I could tell he did not find solace in our misery. He saw his score, and he saw the average on the board. I saw his face, twisting every time he saw his wrong answers.

  We kept our answer sheets, the proof of our underperformance, in our bags and strolled back to Kumaon. We met at dinner in the mess. The food was insipid as usual, and Alok wrinkled his pug nose as he dispiritedly plopped a thick blob of green substance mess-workers called bhindi masala into his plate. He slammed two rotis on his stainless steel plate and ignored the rest of the semi-solid substances like dal, raita and pulao. Ryan and I took everything; though everything tasted the same, we could at least have some variety of colors on our plate.

  Alok finally brought up the topic of the quiz at the dinner table.

  “So, now you don’t have anything to say?”

  Ryan and I looked at each other.

  “Say what?” I said.

  “That how crap this is,” Alok said.

  “The food?” I said, fully aware Alok meant otherwise.

  “No damn it! Not the damn food,” Alok said, “The ApMech quiz.” His expression changed from the usual tragic one to a livelier angry one. I found that expression marginally more pleasant to look at and easier to deal with.

  “What about the quiz? We’re screwed. What is to discuss in that?” Ryan simplified.

  “Oh really. We are screwed, no damn doubt in that,” Alok said.

  I think Alok picks up a word and uses it too much, which ruins the effect. There were too many ‘damns’ in his dialogue.

  “Then drop it. Anyway, you got the highest amongst us. So, be happy.”

  “Happy? Yes, I am happy. The average is eleven, and someone got seventeen. And here I am, at damn seven. Yes, I am happy my damn Terminator ass,” Alok scoffed.

  I told you, Alok ruins the effect. I wanted to tell him that he should stop ‘damn’ right now but something told me he would not appreciate the subtleties of cursing right now.

  “What? What did you just say?” Ryan said, keeping his spoon down on the plate, “Did you say Terminator?”

  “Yes. It was a stupid idea. Your stupid damn idea,” Alok said.

  Ryan froze. He looked at Alok as if he was speaking in foreign tongue. Then he turned toward me. “You heard what he said? Hari, you heard? This is unbelievable man.”

  I had heard Alok, nothing being the matter with my eardrums but I wasn’t paying attention to anything apart from keeping count of the ‘damns’.

  “Hari, you think I screwed up the quiz?” Ryan asked slowly.

  I looked at Alok’s and Ryan’s faces in quick succession. “Ryan, you got three. You still need me to tell you that you screwed up?” I counter-questioned, mediating on something I did not understand yet.

  “No. I mean Alok is saying I screwed up the quiz for both of you because I took you to the movie. You think so or…?”

  “That is not what I said…” Alok interrupted even as Ryan raised his hand to indicate silence.

  I understood Ryan’s question now, but I did not know how to answer it, without taking sides.

  “But how does that….”

  “No, Hari tell me. Is that what you expect your best friends to say?” Ryan asked.

  “It is not important. And besides, you did not drag us forcibly to see that crap movie,” I said, reminding myself to never see sci-fi again.

  Ryan was satisfied with the answer. He relaxed his raised hand and smiled, “See, there you go.”

  “But Alok is right too. We should have a limit on the fun factor. You can’t screw with the system too much, it comes back to screw you – the quiz is an example.”

  “Thank you sir,” Alok said, “That is exactly what I am saying.”

  Cool, I had managed to come out clean in this one. Sometimes, if you just paraphrase everyone’s arguments, you get to be the good guy.

  3

  —

  Barefoot on Metal

  THE QUIZ MISHAP REINVIGORATED OUR COMMITMENT TO studies for a while. Ryan was quieter when we studied in the rooms, controlling his urge to discuss emergency topics ranging from movies to food to new sci-fi movies, leading to more productive study sessions. Though our scores moved closer to class average, assignments can get dull as hell after a while, and you need a break. Ryan often dozed off between assignments, or stared unseeingly at the wall, whispering curses frequently every time he opened a new book.

  “Okay then,” he sighed one day, stapling his assignment. “I have finished today’s crap. You guys going to mug more or what?”

  “Why are you always calling this crap?” Alok asked, perplexed.

  “Take a wild guess,” Ryan said, tossing his assignment on the table like a used tissue.

  “But why?” Alok said, “I mean, surely you studied a lot to get into IIT right?”

  “Yes, but frankly, this place has let me down. This isn’t exactly the cutting edge of science and technology as they describe themselves, is it?”

  I closed my book to join in the conversation. “Boss, mugging is the price one pays to get the IIT tag. You mug, you pass and you get job. What let-down are you talking about?”

  “That is the problem, there is this stupid system and there are stupid people like you.”

  I hate Ryan. When he is on his own trip, we all turn stupid.

  “Continuous mugging, testing and assignments. Where is the time to try out new ideas? Just sit all day and get fat like Hari.”

  Ryan doesn’t like mugging, therefore, I am stupid and fat. People like him think they are god’s gifts to the world. What’s worse, they are.

  “I don’t have any new ideas. And I am not that fat, am I?” I said turning to Alok. Looking at him I instantly felt better.

  “Fatso, look into a mirror. You should do something about it.”

  “It is genetic, saw a TV documentary once,” I defended weakly.

  “Genetic, my ass. I can make you lose ten kilos like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  I did not know where Ryan was going with this, but it could not have been pleasant for me. Being fat was more appealing to me than running behind the insti bus or climbing the stairs of these buildings fifty times a day. “Ryan, forget about me. If you don’t want to mug, should we go to the canteen for a parantha?”

  “Boss, this is the problem – all food and no exercise. I’ve decided, Hari has to go on an exercise routine,” Ryan said, jumping up. “We start tomorrow morning then.”

  Ryan decided for other people. I don’t know if it was his good looks or just his good-natured vanity that you didn’t want to prick, but mostly he got away with it.

  “Wait Ryan, what the…” I began.

  “Actually, Alok you should come, too. Interested?”

  “Go to hell,” Alok muttered as he dived back into his books like a squirrel with a nut.

  I thought about losing ten kilos. All my life people had called me Fat-Man, to the point where plumpness was part of my identity now. Of course, I hated that part of my identity and Ryan did seem to know what he was doing, and his own body was great. Heck, I thought, it was worth a try.

  “What do I have to do?” I capitulated.

  “Early morning jogs around the whole campus, around four kilometers.”

  No way, I can’t even walk four kilometers,” I dismissed.

  “You wimp, at least try. You’ll feel great afterwards,” Ryan said.

  Sure enough, Ryan mercilessly kicked at my door at five a.m. sharp the next morning. I hate Ryan. Anyway, I opened the door and he stood there waiting for me to change into T-shirt and shorts.

  “Four kilometers?” I was drowsy and pitiful at the same time.

  “Try, just try,” Ryan enthused.

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