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Heartbreaks & Dreams!
The Girls @IIT
 Reviews
A light read that narrates the IIT story from a girls perspective.
— Financial Express
Parul has done a neat job in keeping the interest alive till the last page. There
are no shocking revelations or extremist views but Parul has managed to tell
the touching tale with a lot of heart.
—The Hindu, Metro Plus
Mittal hasn’t minced the scenes, sounds and the subject of her book to make a
repetition …. The classroom scenes in the novel are interesting.
—The New Indian Express, Edex
This is a book for all those who could never imagine that IITs had girls.
—The Week
The ‘non- male’ has arrived in the literary world.
— Mail Today
Told directly and honestly, in very simple words, the tale of Tanu and her
friends is sure to drive you down the memory lane.
—Desicritics.Org
Heartbreaks & Dreams!
The Girls @ IIT
Parul A. Mittal

Srishti
PUBLISHERS & DISTRIBUTORS
SRISHTI PUBLISHERS & DISTRIBUTORS
N-16, C. R. Park
New Delhi 110 019
srishtipublishers@gmail.com
First published by Srishti Publishers & Distributors in 2010
Copyright © Parul Alok Mittal, 2010
4th impression, 2011
Typeset in AGaramond 11 pt. by Suresh Kumar Sharma at Srishti
Printed and bound in India
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,
without the prior written permission of the Publishers.
This book is dedicated to my mother and my father who
ignited and supported my dream to go to IIT.
 Acknowledgements
There are several people who have contributed in one way or the other in
making this book happen. I would like to take this opportunity to thank them
all.
First of all I would like to thank Sharat Singh, my ex-boss, for telling me
that I can not continue to work reduced hours and helping me quit my job.
Second in the order to be thanked is the now famous, my IIT-D batchmate,
Chetan Bhagat for writing Five Point Someone. Ever since I read it five years
ago, I have been itching to get a girls perspective out to the masses.
I would like to thank Amitabha Bagchi, author of “Above Average”, for
reading through my very first draft and highlighting the basic flaws.
Nirupama Subramanian, author of “Keep the Change”, who went through my
manuscript revisions twice and gave me useful insights and suggestions. My
very close friend, Sonal Bansal, with whom I discussed the progress of my
book daily during our evening walks. Shivani (Singh) Kapoor and Pooja
(Sharma) Goyal who regularly kept asking my books status and helped in
proof-reading. If not for this book, I would be a partner today at Intellitots
with them. I would also like to mention Puja (Kharbanda) Gupta, Chinar
(Kapoor) Mittal, Ramaya Venkataraman, Harish Bansal, Anoop Sandhu and
Amarinder Dhaliwal who went down the memory lane and recounted their IIT
days for- me. My neighbour Reena who read my manuscript and was
surprised by what all happens at IIT. I also want to thank Punam (Mittal)
Gupta for sticking with me through my four years at IIT-D even though at
times it meant she was boycotted by other girls in the hostel.
My brother Mohit Agarwal and his wife Nidhi for agreeing to feature on
the book-cover and for being my loyal supporters. My mentors in the
publishing world – Pranav Johri, Sharik Currimbhoy,
Sujit Saraf, R Sriram, Anurag Batra and Kanishka Gupta. Sonu Mittal for
designing my book cover and Rajesh Ramakrishnan for clicking the
photographs for the same.
Lastly, I take this opportunity to thank my one and only husband Alok
Mittal for his blind faith in my book and unwavering conviction that it will
see the light of the bookstores. Not only did he lend an ear whenever I needed
one, he also helped me visualize the male characters in this book. I wish he
reads this book one day even though he doesn’t read fiction. My girls Smiti
and Muskaan who patiently waited for mumma to get out of the writers shoes
and my in-laws for being there, while I was lost in the plot, the characters ,
and the story improvisations.
 Realising a dream
had my aim clear very early in life. I wanted to outshine my father. It’s
very normal to think thus but I wanted to be different. I wanted to prove
I myself to the world. I wanted attention- something the middle child
misses out many a time.
I was only eight years old, when I saw his photograph in a newspaper
cutting. He was from a small village in Rajasthan but that did not prevent him
from becoming a state topper, the article said. The only graduate among seven
brothers and no less than a genius for me….that was my father.
It was two years later, at a cousins wedding that I heard about IIT Delhi.
Apparently this was India’s most prestigious engineering college and
universally considered a hard nut to crack. I knew instinctively then, that this
is where I was going to prove myself to the world.
I was born and brought up in Delhi but after fourteen years of living there,
we moved to a small town in Vadodara, Gujarat. The initial euphoria of
shifting to a new place evaporated soon enough. A new language, a smaller
residential accommodation, and different schools…well, the change was
palpable. It was here that I met Sandeep, my fathers colleagues son who was
preparing for “G”.
“What is G?” I asked Sandeep out of curiosity.
“Oh! G! It’s the joint entrance exam for the five IITs across India”, he said.
“I will be taking the test next year.”
“Really, that’s incredible! I want to join IIT as well.” I said.
It wasn’t until a week later that I figured it wasn’t ‘G’. It was JEE, the
abbreviation for IITs’ Joint Entrance Examination.
With single minded determination, I started slogging it out for JEE
immediately after the class ten board exams. The following year I joined a
correspondence course which streamlined my efforts and helped identify my
strengths. I had butterflies in my stomach the day the results were announced.
My cousin called to tell me that I had accomplished an All India Rank of
212.1 was elated. When the official letter arrived, Papa and I made our way to
IIT Mumbai to decide my major.
Based on my rank, I could either opt for Electrical Engineering (EE) at any
of the IITs, or apply for Computer Science (CS) at IIT Kharagpur. Given my
father’s preference for Delhi, the verdict was out. Before long though, I was
on my way to IIT Delhi, realising my dream.
 On my own

I was standing in the hostel courtyard looking lost when a pretty girl came up
to me, “Hi, I am Puja. First year Mechanical Engineering (ME).”
“I am Tanu, Electrical Engineering (EE)”. There was a tinge of pride in my
voice given the fact I was clearly one up on her for EE meant a higher JEE
rank. Puja gave me a warm, welcoming smile. I liked her instinctively.
“Which room?” she asked, looking at the bulky suitcase that I was
carrying.
“G2. You?” I asked.
“Cl 2,” she replied.
These numbers didn’t make much sense to me at that time, but Puja knew
her way around. While she gave me the directions to G2, someone called her,
and I went about trying to locate my new abode. Fascinated by Enid Blyton’s
boarding school stories, especially the Malory Towers series, I had always
wanted to experience hostel life. I craved independence and here I was,
finally on my own in a hostel. What more could I ask for?
G2 was located at the rear end of the hostel building and was inhabited by
post graduate students. I opened the door and saw two single beds and an old
study table covered in a thick layer of dust. I shuddered as I saw a spider
crawl out from under one of the beds, and claim its space on the wall. I
walked through the short, connecting corridor to the second chamber, which
had one hill length mirror, two single beds, a couple more spiders in addition
to an attached mini balcony full of bird shit.
Infested, cramped, and dingy, could well sum up the quarters I was to
spend the next four years in. So much for hostel life! With a heavy heart, I
cleaned the room, dusted one of the beds, opened my suitcase, and spread
clean linen on it. With a lump in my throat, I went to the washroom to freshen
up. My misery increased. The washbasin was dirty, the mirror stained, and the
wall paint peeling. Tears welled up in my eyes. Home at Vadodara seemed a
‘mansion compared to this! No sooner had I arrived than, I felt like running
away.
“Guest for Tanu”. I heard my father’s voice boom on the public
announcement system, in the hostels Reception Area. He was waiting in the
Visitors Lounge outside.
I pulled myself together, washed my eyes, and went out to meet him.
“Is everything ok?” he asked, sensing a change in my mood.
“I will miss you “, I said toying with my plaits. I couldn’t let my dream fall
to bits in front of him.
As he left, I looked at myself through his eyes. I did not see an average
looking girl with a small face, thick rimmed glasses, and two long plaits.
Instead I saw the most beautiful, intelligent little angel in this world. That’s
what I was for my father. This image rid me of all my thoughts of running
away. Reassured I was walking to my room, when a dark complexioned girl
stopped me midway.
“Taste some”, she instructed, thrusting white powdery substance on a piece
of paper to me.
“What is this?” I asked uneasily.
“Do not question your seniors”, she ordered, very much a drill sergeant in
the making. “Its Sugar. Powdered sugar.” She said.
“I am not very fond of sweets”, I said nervously Piddling with my hair, and
scanning the courtyard for saviours. But I didn’t know anyone in the hostel,
and my father had already left.
“This hardly has any calories”, she smirked, giving my heavy hips the once
over.
Then she lost her balance and toppled towards me. I could sniff cigarette
smoke. Surely the white powder was not sugar! Could it be drugs? My heart
slopped a beat. I didn’t know what to do. Would it be dangerous to refuse? “I
just had my homeopathic medicine, so I can’t eat anything for the next ten
minutes.” I mouthed hoping to stall the drugged senior.
She spotted a skinny fresher, wearing blue jeans and white tee, and called
her over. She then ordered both of us to climb the stairs to the second floor
with her.
“Your friend here with long tresses doesn’t want to try this powder,” she
informed the other fresher. “Why don’t you jump off the second floor and I
wont force her anymore to have the white powder?”
Was she mad? How could she ask someone to jump off the second floor?
The skinny girl climbed up the parapet and stood perplexed, contemplating
her chances of surviving the 20 feet fall, but I couldn’t let anyone break their
limbs for me. With no alternative in sight, I shut my eyes and prepared to sniff
when…..Thump! And applause! Had the skinny girl jumped? Why was the
dark devil cackling? Anxiously, I opened my eyes to see the smart fresher
standing right in front of me. She had outsmarted the senior by jumping on
the corridor side. The senior seemed entertained, but I didn’t find anything
funny. I went into the bathroom and cried.
I was debating my next step when a stern voice boomed through the air.
“All freshers come to the lobby immediately”. I looked at my watch. It was
time for the orientation. Struggling to keep my tears at bay, I quietly followed
the seniors to the convocation hall. Fortunately, the dark devil was not in
sight.
Situated on the first floor of the nine storied building, the Convocation hall
was a huge auditorium used for miscellaneous purposes, besides holding the
annual graduation ceremony. For strangers to IIT Delhi, the huge longitudinal
campus spread endlessly over an area of 320 acres. The administrative and
academic buildings were located near the entrance to the main campus. To
ensure that the boys and the girls at IIT, supposedly the brightest minds of the
nation, did not mingle with each other and continued being the geeks they
were, the girls’ hostel was holed up at the extreme end near the academic zone
and flanked by faculty houses on all sides.
Today, the entire Convocation hall was packed with boys. A slim line of
girls unobtrusively occupied the few vaCan’t seats in a row at the back. IIT
was known for its skewed sex ratio. Where else would you find a batch that
had 12 girls and 325 boys? I overheard some boys bet on Kapil Dev in an
ongoing cricket match series. Some of them seemed to know each other, and
chatted about movies and music. The girls, however, seemed quiet.
As we waited for each fresher to be assigned a roll number, I basked in the
glory of the moment till, — it suddenly struck me that each individual here
had cleared the IIT entrance exam and was in fact nothing short of a super
genius. From being the best student in school, I was now just another geek
among hundreds that thronged the hall. I was still grappling with my
insignificance but suddenly my future looked bleak. Had I slogged the past
two years of my life for this? Had I made the right choice?
I came out of my reverie when my name was called out. I went up to the
stage to get my tag. On the way back, I saw the dark demon, seated in a
corner, like a tigress waiting to pounce on her prey.
“Go and propose to that guy in the red t shirt.” She stopped me and pointed
her finger towards a 5 ft, 7”, fat, fair guy in a red t shirt, standing four rows
ahead. “Convince him to marry you, and don’t come back rejected.”
Approach, propose, and return. A simple task. But not for me as I was
sweating profusely. In all my fourteen years at an all girl’s school in Delhi I
had been terribly inhibited about boys. The two years of co-education in
Vadodara were no different with boys and girls sitting on separate benches. In
short, my comfort level with the opposite sex was like my Gujarati —
pathetic, and this sea of seventeen year old boys made me weak-kneed.
But I was not alone. I saw other freshers being made to do similar stuff.
There was no escaping this so I walked up to the boy in the red t-shirt.
“Deepika has sent a scapegoat “, said a husky voice from behind.
“Wait till Piya sends someone to tail you”, retorted Red t-shirt.
“Piya won’t. I had made it very clear to her last semester that I wasn’t
interested in her, and she seemed to take the rejection sportingly,” clarified the
deep, throaty voice.
I sneaked a glance to put a face to the voice and found a bespectacled Surd
in color coordinated shirt and turban. Going by their conversation, this Piya,
whoever she was, had confirmed a fact that, IIT girls were certainly not in
demand. I felt uneasy. What was I expected to do? Go down on my knees or
was that only restricted to the men?
“I have to propose to you.” I said sounding like I needed to pee.’
“That would indeed be lovely.” He emphasized each word, and looked
directly into my eyes. Now did this mean that he had accepted my proposal?
Or was waiting for my next move? I was not sure but going by his stance, I
decided it was the latter.
“Will you marry me?” I asked emboldened.
“Give me one good reason.” He played along looking quite friendly.
Before I got here, I was the haughty state topper, but now that I was just one
among the many at IIT, I was suddenly feeling worthless.
“I am JEE 212.” I highlighted my sole achievement, feeling rather stupid.
His friends gathered around me and started evaluating the proposal jointly. He
had come across as a decent guy so far, but the others looked slimy. I started
fidgeting with my pigtails.
“Everyone here, the Tinas, Minas, and Rinas in IIT are JEE rank holders. I
can’t many them all.” He stood straight with legs apart, hiding the slight bulge
around his belly.
“I am straight forward, honest, intelligent, and a go getter.” I enumerated as
much for his sake as my own.
“And he is The Champ”, remarked his turbaned friend in his hoarse voice,
wiping his spectacles carefully with a dean cloth. The Surd went by the name
Sukhi, as I came to know later.
What did Sukhi mean by that? Perhaps Red T shirt had won some
championship recently. I could find nothing else to brag about as I had been
singularly focused on cracking the IIT entrance exam, with little time for
personal grooming. “I have long hair. I can embroider, paint, and dance, and
cook yummy food.” I felt cheap and horrible.
Sukhi wanted to interview me further, when Champ intervened. “That will
do”, he said. Something in my sales pitch had caught his fancy.
I was about to leave when Champ added, “But there is a condition.”
I waited apprehensively hoping he wouldn’t notice my unshapely eyebrows
or the bulging thighs.

“You will have to wait till I come of age”, he said as he winked at me.
A smile spread across my cheeks, and I promptly ran back and repeated the
dialogue to the dark devil or DD, as I had decided to nickname Deepika.
“He is called Champ because he excels in any field he desires, be it a new
musical instrument, a sport, or a field of research”, offered DD. “Someone
had challenged him when he was in class twelve, and within six months he
had triumphed as JEE 3”, she added.
I felt my ebbing confidence soar at having won a champions heart, even if
in a game. This was the best thing that had happened to me that day.
It was already dark by the time we returned from the orientation, and I
headed straight to the Mess. I ate quickly to avoid being caught by a senior
again. On my way out a short, plump girl enquired if I was a first year
student.
“Yes, I am in G2.” I replied.
“Isn’t that a quadruple sharing room? What luck!”
For a second I thought I had heard her wrong. Or was she mocking me?
“I have always lived in a joint family. I feel awkward, alone in C3.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, there is no need to rub it in.” I muttered under my
breath. Just this morning, I had been told that single rooms were all allotted
by lottery. And then the very sight of G2 had reduced my dreams of hostel life
to ashes.
“Do you mind if we swap places?” She asked.
Now I was sure I needed a hearing aid. This was too good to be true! Had
God really sent a chubby, cute fairy for my salvation? Reading uncertainty on
my face, she clarified that she didn’t want to pressurize me.
But a little voice whispered in my ears ‘Opportunity knocks only once.’ “I
will switch.” I squeaked trying to sound sympathetic rather than thrilled.
She was thrilled as well and thanked me profusely. “I knew today would be
my lucky day”, she said cheerfully. “I saw a cow on my way to IIT.”
Now, I don’t know how much of a help the cow had been but for me it
seemed like things had started to turn in my favor! Destiny? Maybe. My
move to C floor was a pre-requisite for my friendship to blossom with Puja
and the skinny girl.
I darted to G2, packed my bags and moved them to C3 in a heartbeat.
Located on the second floor in the front wing, it was a 9 foot by 10 foot room.
The room looked straight out of a seedy one star hotel on a forgotten hill
station, yet it was heaven compared to the dungeon I had been in.
Standing in the corridor, outside my new room, I surveyed the front wing.
With twenty rooms on each of the three floors, this building housed the
B.Tech. girls during all four years. I knew Puja’s room was on my floor but I
was scared to venture farther from my room. The activities and the excitement
of the day had kept exhaustion at bay, but now my eyes were drooping. I
looked out of the window’ by my bedside and saw a few senior girls sitting on
the low boundary wall, laughing and chatting casually with some boys. Would
I ever be as friendly with boys? Day one was over. I retired to my bed and to
my dreams.
 The outliers

I had reached room number 411, on the fourth floor of the main building at
7.50 am, well ahead of time, and sat down in the first row. For the next ten
minutes, boys continued to pour in till the hall was jam-packed, with no
vaCan’t seats except the two adjacent to mine.
None of the guys wanted to sit next to a girl. I was beginning to feel like an
outcast, when a tall, dark, and handsome boy, wearing a white collared, full
sleeved shirt, claimed the empty seat to my right. Instantly, he became a hero
straight out of a Mills and Boons novel. I had barely suppressed the
excitement in my stomach at this unprecedented proximity to a boy, when the
Professor walked in.
“Your IIT rank is a meaningless number in this mathematics course,”
announced Professor Dutta by way of introduction, all the while looking at us
with utter contempt, and spreading a tuft of long hair across his semi bald
head. “You will need to slog very hard,” he continued as he scanned the class,
“to pass this course.”
Why was he preaching? Were we toddlers in a preparatory school? I
thought the warning was unnecessary, until he wrote the breakdown of marks
on the blackboard.
1st minor – 20 marks
2nd minor – 20 marks
Major – 40 marks
2 surprise quizzes -10 marks each
5 tutorial sheets
Prof. Dutta didn’t elaborate. There was no need. It was clear that the
Minors were the mid semester exams while the Major was the final exam at
the end of each semester. I did a simple calculation of the ten tests and
tutorials in six courses, and realized that we would practically have a test or
an assignment every working day during the four month semester It is not like
I had expected a walk in the park, but I had grossly underestimated the degree
of torture.
“Let us all play a game in class today.” Prof Dutta began when the skinny
girl, who had rescued me from DD’s ragging yesterday, walked in and
occupied the last seat on my left. Her short hair gelled well with her tom
boyish look.
Prof. Dutta gave her a ‘you will fail this course young lady’ smile, and
continued. “Each of you has to secretly choose a number between 0 and 100,
write it down on a piece of paper along with your name, and give it to me. I
will then, average all the responses. The winner will be the one who comes
closest to two thirds of the class average.” He then took out a crisp hundred
rupee note from his pocket, waved it in the air to show that he meant his
words and laid the prize money on the table. In case of multiple winners, the
prize was to be split equally.
In those days a hundred rupees was a princely sum, especially for students.
I was as eager to earn the reward, as I was to prove that I deserved to be in his
class. Math was my favorite subject so I started cracking the problem
rationally. Now, I really wanted to outsmart the others and by applying the
logic iteratively I figured that the best answer was 01. So I confidently jotted
it down and submitted my sheet.
Prof. Dutta took a few minutes to open each of the fifty sheets and
calculate the average. When he finally announced the class average to be 30, I
was shocked. I was clueless where my analysis had gone wrong. Interestingly
the winner was the handsome boy, sitting right next to me. He had guessed
22.1 waited for the Professor to explain the paradox, and when he did, it
turned out that I was the only one who had logically thought about the
problem and arrived at the Nash Equilibrium solution. To the uninitiated, this
is the same John Nash of ‘A Beautiful Mind’ fame.
“The moral of this game, also known as the beauty contest game in Game
Theory, is not to confuse practice with theory”, summarized Prof. Dutta. “In
theory, you have all cleared the IIT entrance exams and are supposedly the
brightest minds in the nation. In practice, only a few that apply practical
knowledge along with theory will earn an ‘A’ grade in my course.”
Having given us a taste of what we had signed up for, he rattled off the
basics periodically re-arranging his sparse hair to achieve maximum coverage
of his bare head. Some students copied every word while others listened
attentively. A few, sitting at the back, simply relaxed. Soon enough, the entire
class knew he was parroting what was there in the textbook. What a bore!
Tilting my head to one side, I was about to settle down in a comfort zone,
when suddenly Prof. Dutta came near my desk and commented, “For
example, these two girls here in the first row are clearly different from the rest
of the class – comprising of boys like outliers in a data sample.”
 He was crossing the line of discrimination based on gender, but then he
was only citing an example. I kept quiet.
“As outliers, are the maximum or the minimum values in a data sample,
these girls will either shine exceptionally or fail miserably”, he concluded.
Prof. Dutta was clearly not very fond of outliers, but I was certain he was
antagonized by something more than my gender. Whether it was my logical
approach that led me to the Nash equilibrium, or the skinny girls late entry in
the class, or both, I was undecided. But due some vague law of averages that I
applied at that moment, I felt certain that if the skinny girl failed, I would
excel and vice versa. There was only one way to ascertain my future grade-by
finding out her JEE rank. If her rank was better than mine, then I was
doomed. I turned around to ask Ms lanky frame, but she had disappeared.
The second slot in my time table read ‘EE 101, room 603’. I had a couple
of minutes to climb the two flights of stairs. I peeked inside and searched for
my thin framed companion in a sea of boys. I spotted her in the third row,
deep in conversation with the same handsome bloke, who was now, richer by
a hundred rupees.
Being a sincere student, I preferred the front benches, but today I decided
to make an exception. Not only did I want to find out her JEE rank, I was
curious to see how she made friends in a flash. Before I could ask her
anything, a long bearded Professor walked in, and started to lecture in a more
predictable manner compared to Professor Dutta.
After two hours of nonstop grilling, by near normal Professors, the time
table read ‘LUNCH’. We had an hour to walk back to the hostel, have our
meal, and get back to the Institute for the remaining classes.
“Hi”, said Ms slender legs cheerfully, as we finally got time to chat, on our
way back.
I waited for her to disclose her department or rank, but she wasn’t
forthcoming. I thought it would be rude to broach the issue directly, so I
thanked her for having saved me from DD the previous day and introduced
myself. “How unfair of Dutta to discriminate against us”, I remarked,
hurrying along tokeep pace with her.
“Yet, I am glad that we are girls; the boys’ hostel is more than two
kilometers away.”
She certainly seemed unaffected by Dutta’s prophecy.
“By the way, I am Divya, Computer Science, and JEE 17”, she said
casually
 It would be childish to hold any grudges against Divya, but now my
prospects in Dutta’s class suddenly did not seem very bright.

1 It would be obvious to most readers that the number

100 is a sure shot loser. Even if everyone guessed 100,
two thirds would be 66.6. If everyone guessed a
number lower than 66.6, then, two thirds of the class
average would not be higher than 44.4. Applying the
logic iteratively, one could figure that the best answer
was 0. However, in real life most people stopped after
one or two levels of reasoning, while still others
guessed randomly.
 The tormentors and the surviors

I found myself doing what most girls my age do in their free time – evaluate
the boys in the class. What did you think? The boring lab session in the
afternoon gave me the opportunity to observe my tall, dark, and handsome
neighbor from close quarters. He had chosen to partner with Divya and their
table was adjacent to mine. This boy was a class apart – suave, stylish, and
sophisticated. As I mixed two chemical compounds following the lab
instruction sheet, my mind drifted off to Champ, whose IIT rank was hugely
impressive though his bulging belly and moustache were big turn offs. Who
would make a better husband? Champ with below average looks and a genius
streak or the James Bond look alike who had won Duttas game by chance. My
analysis was interrupted, when pungent fumes started emanating from my
beaker. What was I doing? Comparing guys instead of compounds? I chided
myself to concentrate on what lay in front of me.
Mulling over the looks versus the brains argument, I was walking out of
the Institute, when I bumped into Champ, wearing, well, yet another red T
shirt.
“Hi”, he said casually.
“Hi”, I replied while my mind unintentionally visualised him without his
bulge and the moustache.
“So how was your first class with Professor Dutta?” I could tell by his
‘been there done that’ look that Dutta had taught them last year.
“Horrible”, I said. “Did he take your class last year?” What I really wanted
to know was whether Dutta actually failed a lot of students.
“So he made you guys play the beauty contest game.” Champ smiled
amiably.
“And like a foolish theorist, I landed at the Nash equilibrium,” I said.
“You did?” This time Champ sounded impressed. “I was the only one in
our class to get there.”
I was wondering if Professor Dutta had ridiculed Champ as well for his
answer, when Champ said, “Don’t worry, he is just a messed up Professor
with an Intriguing, Idiosyncratic Teaching style.” Champ’s words were
comforting and I was about to raise him in my esteem, when he said, “You
did a good job of marketing yourself the other day.”
Was he making fun of me or was he really praising me? I looked at him
quizzically.
“All that I can cook, embroider, paint, and dance bullshit,” he mimicked
my sentence in a feminine voice.
What did he think of himself? Was he the only one who could do a lot of
stuff? Was everyone else useless? “You know what, I can actually do all those
things,” I said indignantly. Suddenly he wasn’t so appealing – he was just a
fat, arrogant and smug guy.
Before we could exchange further notes I noticed DD glaring at me from a
distance. Surely she had a soft corner for Champ, but why was she scowling
at me? She couldn’t possibly be thinking that I was flirting with her
boyfriend! Well to be honest, I had thought about Champ in the lab. I cringed
in fear at the thought of another possible assault from DD and quickly left for
the hostel.
I was analysing the days events when I heard the PA system blare “All first
year students assemble in front of the common room.” I lazily got up and
dragged myself to the common room. DD and her friends were relaxing in a
makeshift lounge outside the room. I was half expecting DD to pick on me for
having talked to Champ after the classes. I donned a dull look and blended in
with the other freshers.
“Today Piya will tell us about The Forbidden Fruit”, said DD as she
winked at her friend with short hair and a plunging neckline.
DD’s mood seemed to have undergone a complete transformation. My
tensed muscles relaxed a bit.
“Hello”, said a soft, seductive voice.
Not knowing how to react, I looked at her from the corners of my eyes.
She was smiling and I let myself relax a little more.
“I will give you some practical tips that I have learned from experience
over the years.” said Piya fluttering her long eyelashes seductively. “Let’s
start from the basics. Do any of you know how to attract men?”
Under normal circumstances, this could have been an interesting forum,
but we were still quite nervous, and despite Piyas seductive voice no one
fielded the question.
“The first rule of thumb is, ‘don’t be shy’. Don’t seek attention, give it. It
massages the boys’ ego,” explained Piya.
 This was bad news. I could only talk x2 + y2 = z2 with guys. I had failed
the very first criterion.
“The second rule is, ‘don’t act like a dumb ass. Challenge them’. Guys
love to prove themselves right.” elaborated Piya.
Forget challenging, I hadn’t spoken a word to the good looking bloke in
the lab today. Unless there was a way to challenge a guy nonverbally, there
was no hope for me.
“The third rule is to ‘have confidence in yourself’. Don’t worry about your
dry skin or sore pimples, about your dark complexion or fat nose.” explained
Piya.
This was heartening news. At least my average looks were not an issue. I
was least interested in acquiring a boyfriend; yet hitching one seemed a
challenging task. I listened attentively like it was a course lecture, as Piya
expounded her theory.
“Lastly, ‘smile girls smile’. Show your beautiful teeth.”
The last two were manageable. My morale having got the requisite boost, I
began to loosen up.
A subsequent announcement for Piya led to her walking away from the
gathering.
The visitor’s husky voice seemed to ring a bell and so did the name Piya. I
was trying to make the connection, when DD said, “Let me come and see if
Champ has accompanied Sukhi,” and both left hurriedly.
It took me a minute to assimilate that the hip senior who had just left us,
was the same Piya whose name Champ had mentioned to his friend Sukhi.
Piya was the most gorgeous girl one could find at a geeky place like the IIT
and Sukhi had dumped her! Anyway, it looked like the same Sukhi was
visiting her at that moment.
“Piya is my sister”, murmured Puja standing next to me, while we waited
for the duo to return.
“Your cousin is quite smart (read sexy)”, I said politely.
“Piya is my real sister”, clarified Puja, speaking a litde loudly this time.
They couldn’t be more different! If you observed them the way I did, you
would understand why I almost choked on hearing that. While Puja was
delicate and had features like Madhubala, Piya had a compelling persona and
was as hip as Madonna. Piya’s sex appeal was high and the neckline relatively
low as per IIT standards, where girls were generally covered from head to toe.
I was still comparing the sisters, when we heard DD’s shrill voice on the PA
system calling us outside.
Piya, DD, and Sukhi were sitting on the low boundary wall. Unwillingly
we walked towards the trio and waited. It was growing dark outside and the
lamps had been switched on.
“Piya just gave you a theory lecture, let’s have a demo now,” said DD,
scanning our faces for reactions. “You dimpled cheeks, pig-tailed Impressive
Intelligent Toddler. You have already managed to floor Champ, now how
about acting like a hooker for Sukhi?” DD smiled cunningly.
If only I could tell DD that I had done no such thing and had no interest in
Champ. In any case, I had long escaped the hammer; so now it was my turn to
be ridiculed. So I danced a bit, did a few Kathak steps, but DD wasn’t
satisfied. She twitted me for my decency, laughing with derision, and
everyone just watched the drama in pin drop silence.
I was shocked at this sudden change. Just five minutes ago, she had
seemed a kind and understanding mentor and now she was being downright
mean.
“Get the juices flowing girl; imagine you are dancing for Champ”, DD
spoke with untainted malice.
I cursed DD’s obsession with Champ and prayed that she would not
actually make me dance in front of him. I hadn’t come all the way from my
sleepy small town to play Pretty Woman.
DD gave me a derogatory look, as I stood rooted to the floor with my head
down. “Can you at least describe a ‘hot and sexy scene’ to US?
Sukhi waited intently. I was visibly uncomfortable. I couldn’t discuss sex
openly.
“PoorTanu, she can’t talk naughty, she can’t act naughty,” said DD
ridiculing me. “Can you enlighten the rest of your friends what a rubber is
used for?”
Erasing a pencil mark was most definitely incorrect. I pondered,
thoroughly exhausted physically as well as mentally. Having always looked
up to the seniors for guidance and help, I was now being treated like a beggar.
How degrading could this get? A tear trailed across my cheek leaving wet
splotches in its wake.
DD had done her bit. She had succeeded in making me cry. “This girl is no
good, definitely not Champ material,” she declared, glancing at Sukhi, who
had been silently watching DD perform.
 I was nonplussed by DD’s remark. Did she think I was a threat to her? But
she was the one who had set me on Champ s trail. My mind started to spin. It
was past dinner time, and I desperately needed to eat and get some sleep. This
was my first dose of fierce rivalry at IIT, be it for grades or boys.
 Commode; a crush or to flush?

“I f our ragging is a slap across the face, then the ragging in the boys’
hostel is nothing less than an electric shock,” said Divya, looking up from the
crossword puzzle she was solving. This was our third week at IIT, and Puja
and Charu (the fourth member of our gang of girls), both residents of Delhi,
had gone home for the weekend.
“I have slept barely eighty hours in the last twenty days. How can it get
worse than that?” I asked, nonplussed by Divya s remark.
“For a start, my lab partner got his brain washed by four seniors
yesterday,” said Divya.
“And.what exactly is brain washing?” I asked. Divya made it sound like a
big deal.
“You are taken to the toilet, your head is pushed inside the commode, and
the flush lever is pressed to give you a head bath”, explained Divya.
I froze on hearing this. Divyas lab partner was the same James Bond who
had come and sat next to me on our first day. I was shocked that students at
IIT could do something so atrocious. A drop of water from my freshly
shampooed, sweet smelling tresses fell on my arm, and I gagged at the
thought of flush water being used for a head bath. If this is what the boys had
to endure, I was thankful that I was a girl.
Days passed and finally the much awaited Fresher’s night arrived. It was
the closing ceremony that marked the end of the month long ragging. We had
been told that we could invite one male guest to the ceremony. I wanted to
invite the James Bond look alike in class, but I was barely on talking terms
with him, so I was thrilled when Divya announced her plans to call him.
We were dressed to kill, had just got a batch picture clicked and then, we
got ready to showcase our talents one last time. All the first year girls did
something or the other. I performed a few steps of Kathak, Divya did a decent
mimicry of Prof. Dutta, and Puja enthralled everyone with her mesmerizing
voice.
“What is he doing up there?” Said Divya, voicing my thoughts, as we both
saw Commode chat with Puja on the stage.
Courtesy his literal brain wash, everyone in the Institute was calling this
chap ‘Commode’ now. He took over the mike from Puja, who was still
blushing when she came back to join us in the audience, and started singing.
Awash in the yellow light from the lamps, his hands in the front pocket of his
jeans, Commode sang a romantic Bollywood number from Maine Pyar Kiya,
and I swayed to his tune. The setting was perfect – yellow lights, romantic
song, a good looking guy who had defied ‘social’ norms by sitting next to me
in our first class, end of the ragging period and no mad Profs around. What
more could a girl want?
I was attracted to him for sure. That night I had eyes for none else. I
mentally ran through the rules Piya had enumerated to gain a, guy s attention,
and as he came back to join our group, I said, “That was a mesmerizing
performance. I didn’t know you sing so well.”
“There are lots of things that you do not know about me,” he said, his lips
curving into a captivating smile.
I was floored. What should I say now? I was still working on my game
plan, when he started talking with Divya and Puja. And that was it. I didn’t
get a chance to talk to him again for the rest of the evening. All through the
dinner, he focused on Puja and chatted mainly with Divya, while I looked at
him and hung on to every word he uttered. Deprivation made him even more
desirable.
Once the guests left, Puja, Divya, Charu and I sat cozily in my room. We
all had rooms on C floor.
“Commode was definitely flirting with you, Puja.” Divya declared, as if
the rest of us hadn’t observed.
“I know, though I found him a bit boring. He kept talking about some
stupid hostel trophy.”
So Puja wasn’t interested in him. This was a good sign. “I found him rather
attractive.” I let out my secret, much to my own surprise.
“He arrived as Divya’s guest, then he was eyeballing Puja, and now Tanu
has a crush on him. Whose boyfriend is he?” joked Charu, and everyone
started laughing.
Fresher’s night marked an important turning point in my life and my stay at
IIT. Not only had the first harrowing month ended, I had also taken my first
step in a territory I had shied away from before, the territory of love.
 Dance divas

“H ow will I ever get Commode to like me?” I had been awake the
whole night thinking about it, so when Divya and I entered the class room the
next morning, I was not my usual self.
Prof. Dutta was already in class filling the black board with a complicated
looking probability diagram. He motioned us to take some blank sheets from
his desk. I picked a sheet and took my seat in the first row, while Divya went
up to sit in the third row next to Commode. He was looking as smashing as
ever, sporting a slight stubble on his chin.
“Surprise quiz”, advised my neighbor in an undertone. He introduced
himself as Aryan Gangora. He looked disheveled enough for me to pay no
heed to him but what caught my eye was the speed with which he was jotting
down Duttas words.
I reluctantly diverted my attention from a diagram which had a heart
pierced with an arrow pointing towards Commode to the ugly scrawl on the
blackboard. After fifteen minutes of nonstop scribbling, I realized I had
overlooked a key parameter! My heart sank. I was surely, going to fail this. So
off I went for another sheet and recomputed the entire equation, and
grudgingly submitted the paper as the bell rang. The entire class was abuzz
with the post mortem of the quiz, but Dutta deemed it unnecessary to waste
any more time. Unable to concentrate on the ensuing lecture, I turned back to
look at Divya and Commode, but they were busy playing some paper game –
most likely join the dots. With no one to compare my answer with, I was
feeling restless, when I overheard the IIT rank 2 sitting behind me, explain the
solution to someone, and a reassured smile spread across my face.
“What’s the good news madam?” asked Puja, sensing my upbeat mood, as
I entered the mess in the evening.
“We got a surprise quiz in Math.”
“That’s terrible!” said Charu horrified. She lived in a state of perpetual
tension and with our first exams only two weeks away, she was getting
increasingly hyper.
“I know. A shock more than a surprise,” I said, “but I managed to crack it.”
Charu’s pulse came back to normal.
 “See, I told you. You were worrying unnecessarily about your grade in
Dutta’s subject”, said Puja cheerfully.
“But we have to worry”, said Charu, biting her lower lip nervously.
“Everyone around is a stud and it is all relative grading.”
“All you will lose by not worrying are your frown wrinkles”, said Divya,
who had just joined us with her cup of tea. “A diamond is a diamond, even
when beaded with other diamonds in a necklace.” What a wonderful way of
looking at everything! Now why couldn’t I see things that way?
“In fact, I would prefer to be surrounded by smart alecks than duds any
day; it minimizes any long term risk of falling in love”, said Puja dreamily.
It seemed to be my lucky day, so I pushed my luck a wee bit more. I began
solving the pending assignments. I had barely read the first problem, when yet
another announcement instructed us to come down. Piya was standing outside
the common room in her knee length skirt and a tight tank top that fit her very
snugly. I was thinking about what Commode would say if I ever wore such a
dress to class! Her voice cut through my thoughts as she said she wanted to
audition us for choreography.
“Who has the spare time after nine hours of nonstop classes and a never
ending pile of assignments?” said one of the girls pompously.
“C’mon girls, I did those same classes last year, and its not like I flunked”,
cajoled Piya.
Even though one would think Piya spent all her time painting her nails, we
all knew that her GPA was above average. How she managed the grades, the
guys, and the glam look was a secret I learnt much later.
“The selected team will be participating in Rendezvous, IIT Delhi’s annual
cultural festival”, added Piya to allure us, and a couple of girls fell for the
trick.
“Puja told me you love dancing”, she said, looking directly at me,
seductively fluttering her eyelashes
I looked back at her. There was definitely something charismatic about her.
“Just between you and me, it will also help you shake off the extra flab you
have gathered.” This seemed to be for my ears only.
Her logic struck a chord with me. Well, I had after all successfully tackled
the surprise quiz today sans any preparation.
Five out of the twelve first year students accompanied Piya to the seminar
hall. I saw a guy performing jazz on the stage and noticed a few others sitting
in the front row judging him.
“Its a co-ed choreo?” I uttered in disbelief.
“Did you think we were studying in a girl’s college?” Puja seemed amused
by my reaction.
“How can anyone think of IIT as a girl’s college? The girls are rather
inconspicuous here, sprinkled among the guys like cherries in a salad”, I
remarked, “but I don’t know how to be cool around guys.”
“Puja gave me a quizzical look. “This is the nineties and you did spend
fourteen years of your life living in South Delhi, didn’t your?”
It was hard for Puja to understand my situation. She and I both shared a
city but how could I explain my friendless existence especially when my
parents had a non happening, close to zero social life?
Caught in the dilemma, I was surprised to hear Divya’s cheerful voice echo
in the seminar hall. “How come you are not working on the Math tutorial?”
Everyone’s gaze turned towards me and I felt embarrassed. “Someone was
busy debating, so I decided to shake a leg”, I whispered, when Divya came
within the earshot.
“And that someone won the first prize”, she said enthusiastically.
I had only known Divya for a month, but I had got used to her carefree
attitude towards studies and life. I congratulated her and asked if she was
dancing as well.
“No way, I have two left feet”, she said, looking at them. “I was returning
from the boy’s hostel, when Commode got dragged by a senior and he pulled
me along.”
Goodness Gracious! So Commode was here as well. I spotted him then,
with a bunch of guys at the far end of the hall. He looked dashing as always
even in worn out jeans. I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline shoot through my
body, and immediately covered my cheeks to hide the blush. We took to the
stage and most of us qualified save one. Everyone was lazing around and
chatting after the auditions, when Commode asked me, “Have you learned
classical dance?”
This was the first time he had initiated a conversation with me. As
expected I was thrilled. “Kathak, for five years”, I replied hesitantly.
“That requires a lot of persevemnce”, he said in a rather formal tone, as if
someone was forcing him to praise me.
I smiled sheepishly and thanked him.
 “Did you know your hostel earns valuable points each time you participate
in inter hostel events?” This time he sounded more involved.
“Yes, I know.” I had not been to any hostel events, but I spoke with
conviction. Piya had said that confidence counts when trying to gain a guy’s
interest.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I wanted to tell him that I loved his
voice, but I had done so only yesterday during the Freshers night. Unable to
think of anything smarter, I asked him how he had fared in the quiz that
morning. Not the best question to ask, I realized later for he seemed least
interested in studies.
“I did horribly, but you must have done well”, he said, and started tapping
his fingers on the desk restlessly.
Second compliment in a row, I had to be dreaming. I pinched myself to
check if it was real. It hurt.
Another silence followed, but this time he broke it.
“Are you from Delhi?” He inquired, constantly tapping the ball point pen
he was holding.
“Partly”, I smiled, and the conversation continued. I was thrilled to be
talking to him about my life.
Riding a wave, I was least bothered about questioning his sudden interest
in my life. That it could be a part of his ragging, and that too as dictated by
Champ, was certainly beyond the realm of my imagination.
 Crank calls

S oon the first Minors arrived, and the entire campus looked glum and tense
like the waiting lounge outside an ICU. Minors are exams that can change the
course of your life. No wonder then, that everyone was busy photocopying
notes, time sharing books, understanding fundamentals, mugging formulae,
and cursing the Profs. We had two papers each day, back to back for the next
three days.
It was the night before the first exam. Puja, Charu, and I were sitting in my
room memorizing our notes, while Divya was playing a game of scrabble
nearby to ward off stress. That she could manage to concentrate on the game
at all while everyone around her crammed for the exams, amazed me.
Just then, we were startled by the PA blaring “C3, Tanu, Call.”
“It must be from home,” I said, hopping down the stairs, and dashing
towards the external phone in the foyer.
Disappointed to find someone else chatting on the phone, I had climbed
half the stairs back to my room, when I heard the announcement again. This
time I ran down, furious to catch the girl who was unnecessarily wasting my
time.
“Its an internal call”, she clarified
I walked shakily to the inter campus phone. With only one girls hostel and
no relatives on campus, in all probability the call was from the boys hostel.
“Hello.” I spoke hesitantly.
“Hi, is this Tanu?” asked the caller.
“Yes”, I answered suspiciously, unable to place the voice.
“Champ is crazy about you and your hair,” said the caller.
Before I could ask the caller his name, the line was disconnected.
“What happened?” Stuck on the same page for the last hour, Puja had
decided to take a short break by roaming the grid range.
I narrated the entire conversation to her in detail, not knowing whether to
feel nervous or pleased. Something like this for someone yet inexperienced
with boys, was akin to being splashed across Page 3.
 “Lets get some coffee”, I said, “I need to calm my frayed nerves.” We had
barely moved out when we heard, “Cl2, Puja, Internal call.”
This time, the announcement was very clear. It was an internal call. Both
Puja and I rushed to the inter campus phone.
“Hello, yes, who is this?” said Puja.
I tried to read the expressions on her face to determine what was happening
on the other side of the line, but it was too dark. After a minute or so, she
placed the receiver down, and started jumping with excitement. The
mysterious caller had said exactly the same thing to her, except that Champ s
name had been replaced by Sukhi, his friend with the husky voice.
“Oh! This is so mysterious. I barely know Sukhi”, said Puja in a dramatic
voice. While Puja was accustomed to male attention and had no special
feelings for Sukhi, anything absurd could catch her fancy and fire her
imagination.
“Same here. How can Champ possibly like me?”
We solicited Divyas expert advice since both of us were mere novices in
the affairs of the heart.
“There are only two possibilities,” said Divya carefully analyzing the
situation. It could either be actually Champ and Sukhi, in which case the
intent is more likely to be serious, or it could be a random person playing a
joke.”
I ruled out the former arguing that the callers voice had been unfamiliar.
“Then it has to be a crank call,” said Puja, thrilled at the idea.
Crank calls at IIT girls’ hostel were a rare treat as IIT guys didn’t give a
damn about IIT girls. Hence Puja was delighted to receive one, but I was
dismayed. Somewhere deep inside, the phone call had given my ego a much
needed boost. The very thought that Champ fancied me had given me a high.
Now I was uncertain as to how to react to this deduction.
“I had heard something about Piya liking Sukhi and Sukhi rejecting her,
when I had gone to propose to Champ during ragging”, I told Puja, in a matter
of fact manner.
Puja’s eyes popped out of her head and she hugged me tightly. I could
make out that she was regarding Sukhi with a new respect. If Piya liked him,
then Sukhi. was worth liking, and if Piya couldn’t get him, then, he was
definitely worth achieving. This would be Puja’s simple logic though it
seemed pretty lopsided to me. Her life was a simple ‘follow the leader’ game.
She had tailed her sister Piya since childhood, which perhaps explained her
strong desire to surpass Piya. Her parents loved them both; nevertheless it was
Piya’s life that mattered back home.
“Perhaps Sukhi got peeved by Piyas dominating nature”, justified Puja.
“In any case Piya has moved on,” I added for Puja’s comfort.
“There is a third option”, said Divya, stroking her nose, as I visualized a
tree of possibilities growing in her calculative mind.
“It is likely that the call was made by a third person, on behalf of Sukhi
and Champ, as they knew you guys would recognize their voices,”
hypothesized Divya.
This last possibility had interesting implications. It meant that Sukhi
fancied Puja and Champ fancied me, but there was no simple way to ascertain
the truth. And the truth was that Champ had developed a liking for me and my
long hair on that very first day, had instructed Commode to get my details
during the choreo auditions, had got a friend to make the crank call just now,
and was now praying that I liked him.
“I wish the caller had said Commode instead of Champ,” I said matter of
factly, quite heedless of Champ’s growing feelings for me.
“I find this Champ fellow more interesting than Commode,” said Puja
dreamily. “We throw away the candy wrapper; its the taste inside that
lingers.”
“Commode might not be as talented as Champ, but he had the guts to sit
next to me in our first class.” I argued in Commode’s favor. “He even has a
melodious voice. I think he is a crunchy waffle cone on the outside with a
scoop of chocolate ice cream inside.”
While we were drooling over this bit of sweet temptation, none of us
thought about the fact that we did not really know Commode well enough.
Even though Divya spent a lot of time playing silly games with him, he was
just one of her many guy friends. All I knew was that he had ravishing looks,
sang beautifully, didn’t give a damn about others, and I had a crush on him!
“Why don’t we make a crank call to Commode and tell him that you like
him?” No one other than Puja could have come up with such a weird
suggestion.
I was about to reject Pujas proposition, when Divya seconded the plan.
“Commode is a very straight forward guy. If he likes you, he will let you
know upfront.”
I knew I would never be able to say it to his face, and there was always the
excuse that someone was playing a prank. Having determined that there was
no down side to this, we implemented the plan. It was agreed that Charu
would do the talking as she had never spoken to him before and her voice
would be unrecognizable, and Divya could help out with the dialogues.
I yelled out to Charu, and aided by the power cut that chose that very
moment to occur, I somehow managed to convince her to make the call.
“Hello, is this Sunil?” Charu read from the cheat sheet Divya was holding.
Commode s real name was Sunil, but we had all got used to calling him
Commode.
“Yes.”
“A girl likes you,” said Charu, reading the second line from the cheat sheet.
“I am glad it is a girl.” We heard Commode chuckle.
“I mean, a girl from your class likes you”, corrected Charu, biting her
lower lip nervously. She had read only half of the sentence the first time.
“Am I to assume it is you?” We heard him say. .
“No, no,” said Charu, and waited for Divya to write down the response. “I
am a friend.”
“Let me see. There are only two girls in my class – the pigtail and the bob
cut. Who are you referring to?” He asked.
“She doesn’t want to reveal her name”, said Charu. I noticed she was
starting to sweat. “Then, what are you calling me for?” queried the voice from
the other side.
Charu looked at Divya for a response. She was sweating profusely now.
‘To ask who you like between the two,” said Charu, pausing after every
word as Divya wrote the response dynamically.
“You don’t expect me to disclose my personal feelings to a strange voice,
over an unsecured line. Or do you?” challenged Commode.
Charu almost dropped the receiver in fright. Her sweat nearly rendered the
paper wet and the writing illegible. So Divya wrote the answers on her palm
and held it out for Charu to read. “So you do like one of them”, parroted
Charu.
If I was Prof Dutta, then, I would perhaps compute the conditional
probability of Commode choosing me as negligible.
“I leave that to your imagination,” he said, and disconnected the phone.
“He didn’t say no,” Puja chirped happily.
 “Well. He didn’t say yes either,” I said dejectedly, unable to share Puja’s
convoluted optimism.
Divya for once was unsure of how to interpret Commode’s answer, but
Charu was relieved that her part was over. Just then the lights came back, and
we decided to leave the boys and hit the books. I understood then, why some
puzzles are best left unsolved. Amidst candles, coffee, and crank calls we
took our first exams at IIT.
 An average performance

I had spent the entire weekend thinking about the crank call, spinning a yarn
of questions Commode would ask and the answers I would give. Most of it
had been wishful thinking. Divya wasn’t a great help and Puja had gone home
for the weekend. With Charu buried in her books there was no one else I
could turn to. Sometimes I felt that my inability to escape each weekend was
largely responsible for my obsession with the campus, the studies, the Profs.,
and the boys. It was one vicious cycle I seemed unable to break.
It was nearly eight, Prof. Dutta had just walked in with a bundle in his
hand, and Commode was still missing.
“Can’t be a surprise quiz on the Monday after exams?” I mumbled to no
one in particular.
“Exam sheets”, announced a grey haired guy in the front row, managing to
get a closer look.
“Doesn’t he have a life or a wife?” I pitied that Dutta had nothing better to
do on the weekend than correct our Minor sheets. Was this what we had in
store for us eventually?
He started to call out the names and broke my line of thought.
“I can’t believe this. I got a zook.” Commode announced to the whole class
without shame. Amidst the brouhaha over the first Minor results, I had failed
to notice when he had entered the class.
“Me too”, said Divya a little surprised.
I did a quick scan of the single digit scores floating around and felt a
sudden emptiness in my stomach. I heard my name being called, got my
paper, and hesitantly checked the marks. This can’t be true. No way! How
could this be?
“The highest is 7 and the average is 1”, Dutta declared with a conceited
smile, arranging his tuft of hair.
I looked up and realized that Dutta was staring at me. I thought he gave me
an ‘I warned you look. I wanted to scream and tell him that he had been
wrong. I had not scored the sample minimum or maximum. I was not an
outlier. Though I wished I was. I wished I had scored the. sample maximum. I
wished I had been an outlier.
“Good show, you are average”, said Divya, peeping at my score, and
taking it all in her stride.
“Average” the label rang in my ears. Was I just an average student? Last
time I checked, I was a topper. Was this really happening to me? I looked
around. Commode seemed unfazed, in spite of the zero.
“Come and meet me tomorrow after classes”, Dutta said to me.
Why was he calling me to his room – to humiliate me further? I nodded my
head meekly, and somehow managed to keep my eyes dry through the next
three lectures.
Finally it was lunch break, and I was about to run back to the hostel to the
privacy of my room, when Commode came over and asked if we could have a
chat. I stared blankly at him for a moment, before remembering the crank call.
“Sure”, I said without any emotion.
“Did you ask someone to call me the night before the Minors?” he asked
plainly, his hands resting in his jeans’ front pockets.
“Someone called you?” I thought it safer to redirect the question back at
him.
“Yes and she said that you liked me.” He shrugged his shoulders in
disbelief.
So he had interpreted the girl to be me rather than Divya. “Did you believe
her?” I asked feigning incredulity. I wanted him to do the talking, lest I gave
the game away.
“Obviously not! I mean you are a nice girl.” He shook his head and added,
“But I don’t have time for such frivolity.”
“I understand. Anyway I am glad you got it cleared.” I looked at his
irresistible lips, and then walked away. I was already down in the dumps;
another blow couldn’t make it worse.
“I screwed up big time”, I said feeling miserable.
“What’s the matter?” If Papa was anxious, he hid it well.
I had been holding back the tears since morning. Hearing his voice on the
phone, I could control them no longer. “It’s so competitive here.” I said
between the sobs. Whether or not the whole world knew of my failure was by
now immaterial. “It’s all right. Don’t worry. Try harder next time.” He was
calm and understanding, but he had no idea how hard things were at IIT and
how lonely and insecure I felt.
“I am sorry Papa, but four years of such humiliation seems unbearable. I
am quitting.” The words just slipped off my tongue.
Papa said nothing for a while and the silence at the other end began to
gnaw at me.
I was surprised at what I had just uttered. Was it really me? I knew I was
being a coward, an escapist at best…something that was so not me. But I had
never fared so poorly or was it now called average? Nor had I been rejected
by a guy before! But then I had never approached a guy previously.
Papa tried to reason with me to stay put till the end of the semester before
taking a call. I could make out that he had measured each word before
speaking. I told Papa I would call later and disconnected the line.
I avoided any eye contact on my way to my room. Once inside, I sat alone,
depressed and reflective. I knew myself. I had always been industrious, but I
could only persevere when things looked promising. In the face of failure, my
brain directed me to take flight rather than put up a fight.
It had always been my ambition to come to IIT. Having accomplished that,
I had been hoping to excel and make Papa proud, but now that I had been
categorized as an average student, I had nothing left to prove. I was a loser
who could not even hook up with a guy! What a failure!
“Sitting alone, fretting over your marks, won’t make you feel any better.
Let’s go for the choreo practice”, coaxed Divya. She wasn’t participating, but
she often hung out with the choreo guys for fun.
“How do I go out? I feel so rotten.”
“You think you are unique in experiencing this? Everyone out here has
done Dutta’s course”, said Divya with a vigor in her voice.
“Then they must have all done better,” I said, wrapping a few strands of
my hair around my finger.
“That is statistically impossible in a relative grading scheme.” Her eyes
shone with life.
“Maybe it didn’t matter to them.”
“So why should what they think matter to you?” Divya didn’t give up an
argument easily.
“All those years of hard work, struggle, and sacrifice. For what? To be
labeled as AVERAGE?” I was feeling dizzy and emotionally exhausted and
the last tiling I needed was a confrontation.
 “You aren’t able to see the forest because of the trees. Look at the bigger
picture,” she urged, placing her long, bony arm around my shoulder to
comfort me.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever asked a doctor his grade in human anatomy?” Divya’s
performance had been worse than mine. To be precise she had got a zero and
yet she was as practical as ever.
I smiled at the ingenuity of her logic, but my grades were as important as
the final degree for me.
“And Commode only said he doesn’t have time for love right now. That
doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you”, encouraged Divya further. “In fact, he
was sure it was you and not me. Maybe, he has hidden feelings for you.”
I smiled again. Divya s optimism was starting to rub off on me. If I was
going to quit, I might as well enjoy the rest of the semester and then throw in
the towel, I concluded.
We reached the hallway on the first floor which had been designated as our
choreo hangout zone. The practice session was a mix of work and play, with
an extensive exercise drill, rhythmic steps, and a lot of merriment. Today, it
worked wonders for me providing me the much needed diversion. It was a
welcome change. After the rehearsal, I caught the lovers holding hands. If
Piya had ever hit on Sukhi, it was a thing of the past, for she seemed quite
attached, literally, to her current beau.
“Piya and her boyfriend make a nice couple,” I said.
“She makes a nice pair with anyone, only the partner keeps changing.”
Puja made no effort to hide her disapproval of Piya’s fleeting alliances.
“But they seem to be deeply in love with each other. I wish I could share a
bond like that with someone.”
“I am available.” Divya chimed in walking leisurely with the guys,
eavesdropping on our conversation.
I discounted her offer and said, “Puja, you are so lucky yaar. Did you
notice how Commode was singing for you?” Now that he had rejected me, he
had become even more desirable.
“We were only practising the song when he was not talking about how
many points his hostel had already gathered! Didn’t you see how Sukhi was
seeking your attention?” Puja had developed a deep interest in him, following
the mysterious call on the eve of the Minors and Piya’s failure to hook him.
 Puja and Commode were the lead- voices for our dance drama, and Sukhi,
who had recently shortened his mane, was my dance partner. “You fellas need
a swap operation,” came Divya’s dictum from behind.
“Well, Sukhi and I were simply admiring your voice. Moreover the crank
call had said that Sukhi likes you”, I clarified, ignoring Divya.
Puja sulked and said, “I was dying to ask him about that, but what could I
say? ‘Did you ask someone to call me and say you love me?’ He would think
I am desperate.”
“Whatever, but don’t fret about him and me. I agree that he looks hip,
especially after his hair cut, but at the end of the day he is a Singh, and I can’t
marry outside my caste.”
“Did you know that Commode was a baniya before you fell for him?”
“Of course!” *
Puja was astounded by my answer.
“What about Champ? Is he a baniya too?” Puja inquired.
“I don’t even know his real name and frankly I don’t care.”
While we were unaware that Sukhi really liked Puja and Champ seriously
fancied me, for the moment we seemed to enjoy the fact that I was pining for
Commode, he for Puja, she for Sukhi, and Sukhi for me…something akin to a
vicious circle.
 In conversation

A s we headed towards the hostel, we missed two people observing us from

the exam hall, on the other side of the road.
“I don’t understand why DD thinks that I like her.” The guy in the red t-
shirt said.
“You talked to her.” Sukhi looked accusingly at Champ.
“Only a few times.”
“Boss, this is IIT”, said Sukhi slowly. “Any guy who talks to. bashed up at
his hostel, and any girl approached by a guy gets treated like a queen in her
hostel.”
“Anyway, how- do I get DD off my back now?”
“Tell her you have a girlfriend,” offered Sukhi.
“But I don’t”, argued Champ.
“Then lie”, stated Sukhi, like it was the most obvious thing to do.
A silent pleading look from Champ seemed to melt Sukhi.
“No, no, don’t look at me like this,” said Sukhi, wiping his specs. “I am not
going to be your messenger. You tell DD yourself.”
“I am no competition for your natural flair when it comes to hitching and
ditching girls”, teased Champ.
“I thought you were the Champ, “said Sukhi, with an extra, loud, emphasis
on the word Champ.
“At logic, not at emotions.” Champ said in a soft, calm tone.
“But how can you like a simple girl like Tanu?” Sukhi was genuinely
struggling to understand why Champ was interested in me. “What does she
have?” He was wiping his specs for the third time.
“Everything I don’t – persistence, depth, humility, long hair, and dimpled
cheeks in addition to everything I do,” enumerated Champ.
“Hmm .. that seems a lot.” His husky voice echoed in the large, empty hall.
“And you are certain this is not on rebound because you were unsuccessful
the first time.”
 Champ recollected the painful rejection by his girl friend in high school,
and then shook his head.
“Then why dont you tell Tanu?” asked Sukhi.
“Because she likes that stupid commode I employed to get her details”,
cursed Champ “But why haven’t you told puja that you like her?” “ Because
Puja is liked by everyone,” grieved Sukhi.
 Rendezvous @ IIT

F rom being brisk and businesslike, the mood and the scene at IIT Delhi
transformed itself overnight to resemble the frolicking beaches of Miami.
Why? Well, it was the third week of September, and as always, Rendezvous,
the annual festival had begun on Thursday eve. We had been given half of
Thursday and the whole of Friday off to enjoy the fest that would last four
days.
“This place seems unusually colorful,” said Charu.
“There are bus loads of DU girls seeking the Intelligent, Interesting,
Types,” said Divya.
“Feels weird to have so many of our gender around,” I said, recovering
from the unforeseen shift in the sex ratio.
Divya tried to say something, but her voice was drowned by a loud
cheering that rocked the place and raised the tempo multifold. Puja appeared
atop the podium and started singing. Her sweet, lyrical voice drove everyone
wild and the crowd grooved and jived mindlessly to the music, as Commode
joined her for a duet.
I was staring longingly at Commodes long legs and irresistible lips, when
someone commented from within the crowd. “Nice moves. Do you still want
to marry me?”
I turned around and came face to face with a redT shirt. “Oh, its you.” It
had been almost two months since I had last met Champ on the first day of
our class.
“Disappointed?” Questioningly he looked at my face.
I stood there poker faced trying not give anything away.
“Do you always wear the same T shirt?” I said in order to avoid answering
his question. I still remembered how haughtily he had behaved with me last
time and I was not going to let him get away.
“Is red T shirt a criterion for. selection?” he inquired genuinely. He had
been waiting to get a chance to talk to me, and make his move.
“Is the ball in my court now?” I retorted.
 “Oh yes! I am a firm believer in gender equality,” he said, and then added
“and you have a right to know me before we tie the knot,” winking at me
flirtatiously.
Playing along, I stepped back, crossed my arms, and pretended to survey
him as if considering his proposal.
“I am an arrogant, average looking, six pointer, who usually gets what he
wants but rarely perseveres.” Champ made his one line sales pitch.
A six pointer? That*s it? How disappointing! He no longer seemed the
Einstein I had assumed he would be and I laughed at his honest description
despite my previous bias against him.
“Do you smoke?” I asked playing my part in the drama, as my husband to
be had to be a non smoker.
He shook his head rapidly in negation, and said, “Quickly now, say a yes
before I change my mind.”
Was he pretending or did he actually mean it? I was sure I saw a twinkle in
his eyes.
“There are so many pretty girls out here. You never know when I may back
out,” he bent down to whisper in my ears, and we both giggled like
kindergarten kids, at his innocuous joke.
I did not fear rejection for I was not pursuing him and given that I was not
staying on after this semester; it Was easy to be myself despite my discomfort
with guys. I was unknowingly doing everything that Piya’s ‘how to hitch a
guy’ guide had mentioned -1 was talking, laughing, and confidently
challenging this chap. And it was working. Champ was getting more and
more involved with me. Only I was still desperately hooked to Commode.
“All well buddy?” said Champ, giving a: high five to Commode. Lost in
Champs humorous anecdotes, I hadn’t realized when the rest of the gang had
joined us.
“Yes boss, but I need a couple of rock show passes,” said Commode.
“Pick them anytime from my room,” said Champ generously.
“Thanks,” said Commode.
While I checked Commode out from the corners of my eyes, Puja hid
behind me giving Sukhi the once over. And then unexpectedly Sukhi came
forward, and Puja shifted her gaze downward.
“Red suits you”, said Sukhi, complimenting me on my scarlet outfit.
 Both Puja and Champ glared at Sukhi, but he continued undeterred. “It’s
Champ’s favorite color, you know,” her added.
Then wishing us good luck for the choreo competition, Champ left and
Sukhi followed. I was about to revise my opinion on Champ for the better,
when a senior standing nearby asked Commode, “Was this the same chap who
brain washed you?”
“He was one of them,” replied Commode more in awe than in aversion.
I was horrified but well, impressions could be misleading.
“Serves him right to be banned from holding any Institute level positions,”
the senior girl declared with disgust, as if it was her head that had been
flushed in the toilet.
“I beg to differ here; he is Kumaons gem,” protested Commode. For the
uninitiated, hostels in IIT Delhi were named after the Indian mountain ranges,
so while the girls’ hostel was named Kailash, the boys’ hostels were
christened Kumaon, Karakoram, Nilgiri, among others.
It was clear that Champ had been party to the heinous crime, but
Commode’s respect for him had only gone up. This was something I had not
expected. Why was he showing so much solidarity? I immediately struck off
Champ’s name from my list of remotely prospective grooms.
I was happy when we came first in the choreo competition the next
evening, but it was not enough to persuade me to stay back at IIT. I needed
something more, maybe more fame. I wanted all of IIT to talk about me,
which seemed unlikely as I was only an AVERAGE performer here!
 Affairs of the heart

B y the time we got back to the hostel, the news had spread like wild fire.
Everyone was talking about DD s dumping. The rumor was that Champ had
found a DU dame for himself. DD had retorted that she and Champ were
never going around, so there was no question of being dumped, which was
largely true. She was also heard promising revenge against Kumaon in the
upcoming elections, and I was only too grateful that she was not blaming me
for anything!
I went to her room and commiserated, even shed a tear or two as we had
both suffered setbacks in our love lives. She persuaded me to chuck the
thoughts of quitting. “Everyone graduating from IIT gets a good job, and guys
you will get in plenty,” she said in her high pitched voice. “Anyway IIT guys
are Indecent, Ithyphallic Toms”.
“And they will all get stamped as IIT Engineers.” All but me! I thought.
“I want more than just a good job and a good guy.” I said, and left.
Back in my room, I sat down on my bed despondently, twirling my hair,
and staring at an assignment. Our Professors had been worried that we would
start experiencing withdrawal symptoms during Rendezvous in the absence of
classes. So they made sure we had plenty of work to stay occupied. Why was
I working on an assignment when I was going to quit soon?
I had finished a rough scrawl of the algorithm, when I heard some silent
sobs from the adjoining cell. I knocked at the door numbered C2, and waited.
No one answered. The moaning continued. I knocked again and was about to
go back, when it opened. Her place belonged to a different world, with baby
pink wall paper covering the dirty walls, a Barbie bed sheet and a matching
pillow on a comfortable mattress, the cupboard and table glowing with fresh
polish, books neatly piled on a sleek, cedar wood book rack, and a delicate,
lace curtain hanging on the window. Charu looked more like a princess than
the girl whose idea of a good time was studying organic chemistry on a
Saturday night. It was strange but I had never stepped inside her room before.
“How was the choreo?” she asked between sobs.
“Not bad, we won,” I said.
“Are you ok?” I inquired, immediately realizing that it was a stupid
question to ask someone who was crying. “Are you missing your parents? I
miss mine too,” I empathized.
She stopped whining and said meekly, “I am not missing anyone.”
While crying had a cathartic effect on suffering, talking seemed to have
given her something else to do, other than just shed tears. She had affluence,
amazing clothes, decent looks, arid wasn’t missing her parents. So why was
she weeping? Must be a boy friend, I concluded.
“Someone else?” I tried not to sound too personal.
“My grandfather.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. Having never been too close to my
grandparents, it was hard for me to discern why she was missing hers.
Perhaps he had just died, I surmised. “You must love him dearly.”
“Not exactly. I worked like a maniac to get into IIT, just so I could escape
the artificial world he had locked me in.”
I was thoroughly confused now.
“It tastes sweet, feels smooth, looks pretty, sounds happy, and smells of
roses, all round the year”, said Charu sentimentally, biting her lower lip.
This was beginning to sound more like a masala movie. I waited curiously
for the plot to unfold.
“And now, Dadu is saying enough of studying. I will be legally eligible in
December and he has already initiated the bio data screening process”, she
responded glumly, her lower lip almost bleeding by the repeated attacks.
“Marriage! How can you let someone rule your life and leave IIT just like
that?” I stood up straight and almost shouted at her in disbelief.
“But you are quitting as well.” she countered gently.
“That is not the same,” I argued hesitantly.
“The reasons may be different, but the outcome will be the same.” She was
still speaking softly, stating the facts without any scorn.
Suddenly I became aware of the freedom my parents had entrusted me
with.
“There has to be a way.” I insisted, knowing how her face glowed every
time she solved a tough problem.
“What?” She asked. I noticed the deep horizontal lines from constant
worrying running across Charu’s forehead.
 “I don’t know, but I bet Divya has an answer,” I offered confidendy. “She
helped me come out of the Math mess so I could survive this semester.” I left
Charu with something to cling to, at least till the next day.
The next morning, Charu was a different person altogether; she was
smiling for a change.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Divya has promised to help me out by driving away the prospective
grooms.”
“Too much of Divya could make you a spinster for life.” I warned jovially.
“Suits me fine”, said Charu, pecking on her burnt toast.
Charu was all set to thwart her granddad’s plans, but what about me?
Would I end up becoming a college lecturer or taking Math tuitions like my
father had suggested in the past? Or worse, not do anything and always crib
about a lost opportunity like my mother? I would not let that happen. For
starters, I pledged to study every day after dinner.
 End of an outlier

“M inor sheets today?” Divya asked, sensing my apprehension, as we

reached the class and took our seats. The second Minors had come and gone
so fast that I had not realized it. The pace of life at IIT tended to be so fast that
there was no time to think or plan and one could only act, react, and over-
react most of the time.
“I am sure Dutta labored the weekend, so he could prosecute us first thing
Monday morning. Anyway, I am cool this time.” We both knew that I was
lying. Though I had decided to quit, a defeat in Math was hard to bear even
today.
“Why hasn’t he come, its ten past eight,” I said thinking out loud. Prof.
Dutta was never late. For that matter, no Prof was.
Just then our tutorial instructor walked in, a regular JNU type with a cotton
bag slung on his shoulders. He was actually a postgraduate student, a matka
as the M.Techs were called by the under-graduates.
“Professor Dutta has met with a serious accident, so Professor Batra will
be taking the rest of your classes”, said Matka wiping his clammy hands
down the sides of his kurta. “He couldn’t come to the class this morning due
to a prior commitment, but will soon work out his schedule.”
We were suddenly serious and sat up straight. This was hardly what we had
anticipated; not that anything at IIT had ever been as expected.
“However, I have got your corrected Minor sheets with me”, he said, and
started handing them out.
Prof. Dutta was in a critical condition and Prof. Batra already had other
classes, yet they had managed to correct our exam papers? Was this the kind
of dedication we were supposed to exhibit? I was unsure.
“The performance is much better this time. The average is 8, and the
highest is 19”, he announced, wiping the sweat that had re-appeared on his
face with his other sleeve, and left.
“I got a 5”, blurted Divya cheerfully from her seat in the third row.,
“I got 7”, hoorayed Commode, sitting next to her.
I saw many smiling faces this time around, yet I chose not to look at my
marks. What was the point? I would still be AVERAGE.
Divya had left for the hostel as soon as the lectures had finished, while I
had been busy clarifying some doubts. I sprinted down three flights of stairs. I
was half way through the covered passage, walking with my eyes on the floor,
working out a problem, when I realized something was wrong. There was a
lot of noise in the driveway. It was strange as lunch was typically a quiet time
of the day, with everyone back at the hostels. I paused to see what was
happening. An ambulance was parked down the road, a police jeep next to it,
and a couple of cars with ‘Press’ stickers on their rear windshield. The place
was teeming with over a hundred IIT Professors packed in a four hundred
square feet area, talking in hushed tones. The IIT director was standing at the
podium, across the passage, talking to a group of journalists, some with
cameras.
I was curious to know what was happening, but who could I ask? I started
walking away towards the hostel, when I heard a sweeper cleaning the floor
nearby say, “He was a good man. He always used to play this bargaining
game2 with me.” I froze where I was, while the sweeper continued, “He
would always say that I was smarter than most people in this world; that I was
near the Nash equilibrium.”
I uneasily asked him if he knew why everyone was gathered in the
driveway. “First they drove that kind fellow to death, and now they are telling
the police they don’t know why he committed suicide,” he said, pushing the
fallen leaves aside with his broom.
I could barely breathe. Dutta had ended his life. How could that be? He
used to be after ours. I was still coming to terms with the news when I heard a
Professor say that there would be no classes in the afternoon, till the police
and the press left: the campus. This was the first time in the history of IIT
Delhi that classes had been cancelled!
Instead of going back to the hostel where everyone would be voicing their
opinion on Dutta, I sat down under a big tree gazing at the majestic
architecture of various buildings, as my mind replayed the conversation I had
had with him last. Prof. Dutta had called me room his room after my
miserable performance in the first minors. I had expected further humiliation
but he offered me some advice and a cup of hot tea. He sat in his chair,
arranging his hair over his bald head, and talked about how he had been trying
to crack a new theory. He was on the verge of making a breakthrough, but his
funding had been suspended by people high up the ladder who thought he was
no good. He seemed to be in a trance, somewhat like he was under the effect
of alcohol or anti depressants. And then coming out of the spell, he had asked,
“What will you do?”
I kept quiet not knowing what to say.
“You are such a bright girl. Yes, a girl at IIT. A definite outlier. Will you rot
here?”
“No sir. I am quitting”, I had said softly.
I remembered how his eyes had glowed at my response and he had said,
“Good decision, even I am planning to leave this place soon.”
At that time, I had thought he was mocking me as usual, but now I knew
why he was happy that I was quitting. He knew that this place was not kind to
people who were different, people like me and him. The system here was not
only competitive as hell, but it also exterminated the outliers. And today one
such outlier had seen his end.
21 There are 2 players participating in a three stage bargaining game:
player ! and player 2.
Stage 1: Player 1 proposes a split of Rs.l O. Player 2 learns about the
proposal and decides whether to accept or reject it. If player 2 accepts, the
Rs.10 is divided according to the proposal.
Stage 2: If the player 2 rejects the proposal, he gets to propose a split of
Rs.5. Now Player 1 can either accept or reject the proposal. If player 1 accepts
the proposal, then the money is divided as per the proposal.
Stage 3: If Player 1 rejects the proposal, he gets to propose a split of Rs.
2.5. If player
2 accepts. money is divided as per the proposal. else both get zero. If you
do backward thinking, then player 2 has a disadvantage if the game gets to
Stage 3 and will be forced to accept any split. So Player 2 must try to offer an
equal split in Stage 2. so they both get Rs 2.5. Given this, if-player 1 offers
anything aboveRs 2.5 in Stage 1. player 2 should accept it, but typically.it is
seen that most people reject low offers due to ego.
 Reality check

T hough I still hadn’t checked my 2nd Minor marks, my 1/20 in the first
Math Minor had caused a stir not only in my life, but in the lives of others as
well.
“Commode says Tanu is leaving at the end of this semester ”, said Sukhi,
checking that his bike was securely locked.
“Tell him to go take a leak”, kidded Champ.
“Commode is certain.” Sukhi checked the bike’s engine and the lock once
again.
“Then we need to stop her.” This time Champ sounded serious.
“How?” Sukhi checked his bike for the third time, before he and Champ
headed inside their hostel.
“Bugger, you are the love guru.” Champ always teased Sukhi.
“I think you should tell her how you feel”, said Sukhi, as he took out a
clean piece of cloth and wiped his spectacles meticulously.
“First you, then I.”
“I will tell Puja on Valentine’s day.” Sukhi confessed.
“Valentine’s day is in February which will be next semester. Tanu would
have left by then.”
“But feelings need time to grow”, reasoned Sukhi.
“Beg, borrow, and steal”, said Champ jumping off from Sukhi’s desk.
“Meaning?”
“Tanu doesn’t love me yet, so I will cash in on her feelings for Commode.”
Champ divulged his scheme.
“It can work against you.” Sukhi cautioned Champ against the plan.
“I never think of the future. It comes soon enough.” Champ proudly
stroked his moustache.
 Of red roses and sample maximums

L ife goes on, and days fly. But this seemed quicker than normal at IIT than
elsewhere. A week had practically flown since Dutta’s suicide, and I was
going through the days lecture notes post dinner, when Divya walked in with
a bouquet of red roses.
“They are the most perfect roses I have ever seen”, I exclaimed.
“For the most perfect girl I have ever met”, Divya sweet talked.
“Are you gifting me these flowers?” I couldn’t imagine Divya giving
flowers to anyone, least of all, me.
“I am not so boyish yet”, said Divya jokingly.
“Then?” Now I was truly flummoxed. Who could have sent these roses?
Who was this mystery guy?
“Someone handed them to me, to give you.” She smiled cheerfully.
“Who?” I was bursting with questions.
“Irrelevant, he was just a delivery boy.” That dashed my hopes.
As I took the red bunch, I noticed that all the thorns had been carefully
removed, and in between the soft petals lay a note:
“Not everyone am persevere,
but I know you can;
If my feelings are worth anything,
I will see you again in Jan ”
Deciphering codes was not my forte, so I waited for Divya to elaborate.
“Could be Sukhi, Champ, or Commode”, she spoke after much
deliberation. “Sukhi because he is the romantic type, Champ because red is
his favorite color, and Commode because I had told him that you were
quitting.”
“You did what?”
“Listen, I am sorry. We were talking after the Math class, when he said
something about performing choreo in some college fest next semester, and it
slipped out.” Divya apologized.
 I was far from angry. In fact I was already flying on a magic carpet with
Commode by my side.
Divya stroked her nose in deep deliberation, and then said, “There is a
hitch; it is very unlike Commode to send flowers, that too secretly. He is an
open, straight forward guy.”
She was right about Commode and if he did not send these, then, who did?
Well, it had to be either Sukhi or Champ and I was interested in neither. Yet, I
felt I needed to give IIT and myself another chance. What if I scored above
average this semester? Should I stay back? I debated quietly unaware that my
face mirrored these thoughts.
“Are you planning to stay back?” asked Divya, reading my mind.
“Maybe.”
“But you are still AVERAGE”, reminded Divya.
“An average among IITians nonetheless” If nothing else this certainly had
to be better than an average elsewhere.
“ Would you rather not be a topper among the duffers?”
“Sounds stupid”, I murmured softly refusing to let go.
“I am glad you agree”, seconded Divya happily, secretly relieved
that I was coming around to rethinking my decision to quit.
“Yet, I have high expectations from myself.” I expressed my concerns.
“How high? Presidents gold medal for the batch topper?
I knew this was unrealistic. There were people with better JEE ranks in our
batch. “Would department topper be reasonable?” I sought Divya’s opinion.
“I would say keep some margin for unforeseen circumstances. How about
top five in your department?”
“Deal”, I acceded, and disclosed my sem end target to score above average
in all six subjects.
“You sure love challenges”, she chuckled. Scoring above average was not
impossible but was an uphill task for sure.
Though I never realized it then, the blueprint of this challenge started
taking shape the day I told Charu to fight and reclaim her life. How could I let
go of mine just because of a frigging exam score? And since Duttas suicide, I
desperately wanted to be a part of our graduating batch picture. The roses just
happened to be the perfect excuse.
 I was about to retire when Puja walked into my room.
“Are you awake?”
“I guess, unless I can sleep walk.” I kept aside the physics tut sheet I had
just finished.
“Sorry for not asking earlier. How much did you get in the Math second
Minor?”
“Not checking.” I replied flatly.
Well aware that she was not losing sleep over my marks, I waited for the
real culprit.
“I am confused about Sukhi.”
“You mean why he junked Piya?”
“No. Why I feel attracted towards him.”
A plausible explanation and the first that came to mind was ‘dogging
Piya’s footsteps’, but I kept quiet.
“I mean, he is so romantic and good looking, and wears all these branded
clothes.”
It was conceivable that she liked Sukhi for his sartorial style; after all I
fancied Commode for his James Bond looks.
“Not just that, he is courteous and clever, and invariably knows what to
say.”
“And?” I knew the punch line was about to come.
“I don’t mind that he is rich too,” said Puja, with a wistful look in her eyes.
I always thought that Puja should have been born a princess, with her
delicate beauty, natural charm, and infinite laziness were just about all that
princesses possessed.
“What’s the problem then? Go and tell him.” It’s always easier to advice
others is something I was fast realizing at IIT.
“I can’t, even if I had Dimple Kapadia’s bouncy curls. You have to help me
get over him.”
“Girl you need to get under him first.” I wisecracked, rather boldly.
“I know but I can’t handle this obsession.”
“Imagine him with long hair. Surds can always grow their mane”, I offered
in a bid to help cure her ‘Sukhi mania’.
 “I don’t know whether that is sexier?” She said dreamily.
Clearly, my first attempt had back fired. “You remember what Divya had
said about him. He only talks to pretty girls like Piya and you.” I tried again.
Puja was modest enough not to remind me that he did talk to me.
“Visualize him in a pool, surrounded by bikini clad girls,” I conjured up.
“Absolutely irresistible.”
I was visualizing a leering villain, but perhaps Puja could only see a hero
in Sukhi.
“But he is paranoid; he is always wiping his specs and checking if his bike
is locked.”
“What harm could come from being extra cautious?” Puja took a positive
view.
“And he has friends like Champ, who was partner in crime for the
abominable brain washing act.”
“Commode seems unaffected by the incident. Besides it was done by a
group; you cannot possibly hold it against Champ or Sukhi.”
I knew Puja was right, but I hadn’t been able to forgive Champ for the
same.
Then, I remembered all those matrimonial ads my father had drafted for
my cousins, emphasizing the no smoking and teetotaller aspects. “What if I
tell you Sukhi smokes?” I shot the last arrow in my quiver. “That would
surely put me off any guy.”
“No big deal. My dad smokes.” Puja countered.
I was making no headway; surely I would make a hopeless divorce lawyer.
“Puja, you are such a sweet, innocent girl, and you are so in love with him.
Why don’t you just tell him?” We had already been debating for over an hour
on how to forget him, so I decided to argue the other way round.
“How can I when I know he desires you and you have such lovely
dimples?” Her presumption was that Sukhi had as much panache as Casanova
when it came to girls, so he had to be the one who had sent me the roses.
“You also know I don’t care a fig For him.”
“I trust you but I don’t know what to do,” she said helplessly.
“Let’s sleep for now. We will strategize with Divya tomorrow.” I
comforted her, and she went back to her room, to dream of him I guess.
 The next day Prof. Batra came to take our class. Despite everything, I
enjoyed his lecture. He explained the concepts in laymans terms, seemed
approachable, was open to questions, and was far younger. Or maybe it was
just the roses?
I was on my way to the next class, when Commode caught up with me and
I coyly smiled at him.
“Good show, keep it up,” he congratulated me and walked away.
If he had sent the flowers, he showed no signs of it. I hastily took out the
crumpled, oil stained sheet from my bag. It read 19/20 in bold red. I stared at
it in stupefaction. Since the last Minors I had hardly worried about studying.
‘Work expands to fill the time you have’, this was my first learning at IIT.
I wished Prof. Dutta was alive today to see that he had been right. I had got
the sample maximum this time. I was an outlier, and a happy one, at least for
now.
 Saurabh

I looked at my watch. There were still thirty minutes for the train to start
moving. I looked around to see if I could find a girl my age to spend the travel
time with, but the bogie was thinly populated. The only other co-passenger if
one could call it that, in my compartment, was a blue back pack, lying
neglected on the upper berth, its owner surely unaware of train thefts or plain
and simple daft. I took out an old magazine lying in my suitcase and started
flipping through it.
It had been a crazy, but happy month at home. I had enjoyed the simple
luxuries that my family offered – a clean bathroom, basmati rice, ironed
clothes, papas wakeup call, and mom’s special masala tea. Papa was
supremely relieved – his elder daughter was getting married, the younger one
had finally had the sense to continue her course at IIT and Junior was settling
down into becoming a more serious student at school. Mom was rushing
around completing all the purchases for the wedding; clothes, jewellery and
organizing the ceremonies. My brother in law turned out to be quite a charmer
and actually had two intelligent conversations with me about Engineering and
my future plans. My sister seemed completely besotted with him and apart
from hugging me more than she ever had in her life, she seemed to have no
idea of the tumultuous love interests that existed largely in my head. I have to
say I had fun at home, but some part of me was just waiting to get back to IIT.
Goodbye had never been so easy.
A sudden jerk brought me back to the compartment, which was now fully
packed. Not a single girl in my bogie! I was cursing my luck, when I chanced
upon a familiar face, perched diagonally across from me. He was engrossed in
a thick novel and quite oblivious to his surroundings. I knew this guy from
somewhere. What was his name? I stared hard at him, and racked my brains
for an answer.
Suddenly he looked up from his book, and asked, “Do I know you from
somewhere?”
Caught gawking at a boy, who was still a stranger, I didn’t know where to
hide my face. I delved deeper into my memories, but I could only find a load
of formulae and theorems.
“IIT.” I shot an arrow in the dark. I hardly knew eighteen year old. boys
outside the IIT campus; hence this was my best bet.
“I can’t recollect meeting you”, he said, narrowing his eyes.
His response had confirmed that he was indeed from IIT, but there were a
thousand boys across four years at IIT.
“Actually I seem to recognize you, but I don’t remember your name,” I
admitted at last.
“Apology accepted.”
Apology? I was thinking of giving him a lecture on chivalry, when his
identity dawned upon me. He was a third year, chemical engineering student,
and an active member of the English, Debating and Literary Club (EDLG).
“Saurabh. EDLC. You have judged some of its events,” I said
enthusiastically.
“One, to be precise”, he specified.
The truth was that I had attended only one EDLC event in the whole
semester.
“Did you participate in that event?” Saurabh interrogated in an effort to
recall.
I felt offended that I had been unnoticeable, especially as there are only 60
girls in under-grad at IIT, and hardly 20 of them attended such non academic
events. “I didn’t participate,” I said with an irritated look on my face, “but
does Divya ring a bell?”
“Enough to say that you aren’t Divya”, he chuckled.
“Well, I am her friend Tanu, first year, EE.” I said, and realized that
everyone around was hanging on to each word I spoke.
“Why don’t you shift here?” He pointed to the aisle seat across his, his
attitude changing abruptly from a strange ‘who are you’ one to a friendly ‘old
pals’ one.
Even though he was an IIT guy, it was nice to have someone slightly
familiar on a long train journey. I gladly relinquished my window seat and
moved to face Saurabh.
“Are you scared of traveling alone?” He asked as soon as I sat dowr.
opposite him.
What do you mean?
“It’s not exactly safe for young girls you know,” he teased.
 “Neither is it to leave your luggage unlocked and unmanned”, I snapped
quickly.
“My back pack had nothing worth guarding,” he said grinning widely.
I was at a loss now. He definitely had a way with the words.
“Caught you,” he exclaimed, like a child who was playing hide and seek
and had found his friend’s hiding place.
“What?”
“Your feminine side,” he said mischievously.
I smiled, my anger evaporating at his guileless game. “But seriously, it
must be tough with so few girls at IIT?”he asked with a considerate look in
his eyes.
“C’mon, you can’t fool me twice with the same trick” By this time I was
getting exasperated.
“No really, I mean girls can’t bunk classes, sliare notes, or copy
assignments as there are only one or two per department.”
“So far it’s been ok. Divya and I have common classes. In any case, I am
quite self reliant,” I replied proudly.
“So you think you can do everything on your own?” His eyes opened wide
in disbelief.
Perhaps he was genuinely impressed, but you could never trust guys. “Its
not I who think I can do everything, it’s you who know I can actually do it
better than you, and that’s what hurts.” Whether I intended to boost my
morale or shackle his was debatable.
“That’s not what I said. You are twisting my Words,” he said calmly.
“I am simply stating your intent.” I said curtly, getting all worked up. “You
IIT boys must really dislike the IIT girls for challenging your majority.”
“I was only saying that boys and girls can be friends; we are not so bad you
see.”
He was able to maintain his cool despite my rudeness. Awkwardly, I started
toying with my plaits, when he asked how many girls in Kailash had tresses
like me. I found the question rather out of context, but kept mum to avoid any
further arguments.
“In first year?” he egged me on, narrowing down the search criteria.
“Just me, I guess,” I said without looking at him.
 “Then you must be the Rapunzel in Kailash.”
What was he up to now? Childrens fairy tales? I frowned skeptically.
“Pardon my fascination with fairy tales,” he clarified. “I am not a
gossipmonger, but it should come as no surprise to you that they tease a chap,
back in Kumaon, for being soft on you.”
So Saurabh was from the same hostel as Commode, Champ, and Sukhi.
Strange warmth filled my senses, and I waited for him to mention Commodes
name, but I heard a snack vendors shout instead. Without any hesitation,
instead of offering to treat me he let me pay for his tea and chips! Where was
all that chivalry I had heard about? Forgotten in historical romances I guess.
This guy was a perfect match for Divya, I meditated. He had no compunction
in letting a girl have the upper hand and Divya was a tomboy by birth.
Additionally, they both loved word play. I happily designated him a
prospective alliance for Divya, a partnership where she could be the man and
he, the wife.
“I am off to bed,” he said, climbing the upper berth, and snoring in no time.
What about telling me the name of the guy who was teased for having a soft
spot for me? Disappointed, I went back to my thoughts.
 New beginnings

I was sitting in an exam hall glaring at the question paper. I couldn’t

understand the first question. I moved to the second one. Still no clue. I kept
moving to the next question in panic. Time was running out. I would never
make it. It was confusing how everything had gone wrong. All of a sudden, I
was jolted out of my seat. I looked around again but this time I saw Saurabh
sleeping peacefully on the next berth. I touched my forehead, I was sweating
profusely. There was no way I could clear the IIT entrance exam a second
time. I was glad I had managed a GPA of 8.04. I thanked my stars and went
back to sleep. New Delhi railway station was still a few hours away.
On reaching the hostel, I hit the showers and emerged to find an ever
beautiful Puja waiting for me in my room.
“Have you done something to your face?” she asked the moment I stepped
inside the room, examining me from different angles.
“Any luck with your Sukhi mania?” I said purposely ignoring her question.
“No yaar. Denial is only fuelling the desire. What about you?”
“Same story, but I met this cute guy on the train while coming back from
home,” and I narrated my encounter with Saurabh. I also let her know how I
felt he would be the perfect match for Divya.
“A girlie guy, he does sound cute and very suitable for Divya, but did he
reveal your admirer s name?”
I raised my nose in disappointment at the reminder.
“Your specs! They are gone.” Puja yelled having nailed the change. “Wait
till Commode sees you in this new avatar.”
Just then, the PA blared. I had been asked to attend two calls so we both
galloped down the stairs, and while I went to the external phone to speak to
my father, I told Puja to man the inter campus phone. Then, I met Divya in
the hallway lugging her suitcase in.
“Hi,” she shouted excitedly.
“How was Inter IIT?” I asked.
“I came second in the 100 meter dash, but DD is peeved off as their baski
team lost the semi finals.”
DD had asked me if I wanted to participate in the girls basket ball team
(you didn’t need to know the game to get on the IIT girls team), and I had
refused because of my sisters wedding. But I was glad that I had not gone. I
would rather my absence be blamed for the defeat than my presence.
On our way up, I was astounded to find Puja still on the inter campus
phone. I had.forgotten all about the internal call that had come for me.
“Here, it’s Sukhi”, said Puja happily, handing the instrument to me. “He
wants to speak to you.”
I prattled for a while with him before disconnecting the line.
“Puja, you are crazy! Don’t ever ask me how to get over Sukhi.”
“But we only chatted because he wanted to talk to you, and you were
busy.”
“Lets dump Sukhi, and go have some hot choc fudge” and off we went
celebrating my return to IIT.
 The envious heart

M eanwhile at the Kumaon hostel.

Congrats, Turn has come back,”cheered Sukhi.
“And I am leaving for the US tonight,” lamented Champ. “You have to.
That is your dream”, said the husky voice.
“So is Tanu,” said Champ.
“Its only a four months long exchange program that can help you secure a
scholarship for post grad studies eventually,” encouraged Sukhi. “But what
about Commode?” asked Champ with a worried look-in his eyes.
“Why worry about Commode? We know he is not interested in Tanu,’’
reasoned Sukhi.
“I would be happier if Tanu was not interested in him,” said Champ.
“Tell me one thing that will put Tanu off a guy and she will not chink about
Commode after that,” boasted Sukhi.
Champ remembered the only thing that I had asked him during the
Rendezvous when we were playing proposal game, and said, “Smoking. Tanu
doesn’t like smoking….. I think.”
“Consider Commode Flushed,” said Sukhi confidently.
 Campus capers

“T here is a letter for you”, said Divya, as we came back from class. She
was pointing to the cubby holes onthe wall opposite the hostel gate.
I grabbed the envelope eagerly expecting a word from my best friend in
Vadodara who was now studying medicine. “It doesn’t have the sender’s
name”, I said, turning the envelope to check the other side. Now this was
getting mysterious.
“Another note horn your unknown admirer,” teased Divya, nudging me
with her elbow.
I blushed.
Divya told the rest of the gang about my secret letter, as we entered the
Mess.
“Open it quickly”, urged Puja absolutely low on patience and ready to pull
the letter out of my hands if I delayed opening it any further. I opened the
letter nervously and started reading.

Hi, E
13th Feb
Congratulations, prospective ENGINEER, on having completed the first of
eight semesters at IIT…….I have loved you horn the day l first set my eyes on
vou. I hope you will meet meat 8 pm tomorrow outside your hostel.
Yours forever,
I read the letter thrice before putting it in away. A love letter? Well, this
was my first love letter ever! My hands were shaking and my face was
flushed. It was difficult figuring out how to react to these lines.
“You have a date for the Valentines Day.” Puja heaved a long sigh. I could
sense a certain longing in her voice.
Suddenly Charu brightened up “I know, this means that Commode likes the
pigtailed one”, she said, smiling broadly.
“Do you think it could be Commode?” I looked at Divyas face, curling the
loose ends of my pigtails around my fingers.
 “Not a possibility,” said Divya softly. “I mean, Commode may like you,”
she added to reassure me, “but he hasn’t written this letter. I know he is at a
dance club with his school friends tomorrow evening”, revealed Divya.
I felt like a beggar whose alms had been snatched suddenly by a street
bully. I looked at Divya as if imploring her to take back what she had just
said. But she was tapping her nose with her finger, and I could hear her brain
work overtime on the clues she had just been handed
“This techie lover is undeniably extra cautious,” she deduced, after a brief
pause.
It was Puja’s turn to become pale now. “How so?” she asked.
“See, he has chosen a day when there would be enough male crowd,
outside the hostel, to blend with in case of a no show,” explained Divya.
“Sounds like Sukhi,” said-Puja with a long face.
I found myself agreeing with Divyas logic. Commode was too forthright to
compose a romantic letter and then, send it secretly. Did this mean that it was
Sukhi who had sent the roses too? I looked at Pujas forlorn face and said,
“Puja, I am so sorry. But you know I have no feelings for Sukhi.”
“Why don’t you meet Sukhi tonight and tell him,” prompted Divya.
“That might not be necessary”, I said, as my scheming mind began its
work.
The next day, the four of us parked ourselves in the lounge outside the
common room, as the clock struck eight.
“I should go now”, said Puja “Am I looking nice?” she asked, excited as
well as jittery. Her hair was loosely tied in a pony, letting a few silky strands
escape, which curled around her face.
“Puja, you look amazing, but please remember you are not going on a date.
You have to break Sukhi s heart.” I re-iterated the plan to her.
As she went out, we decided to keep watch from my room.
Standing outside the hostel at the far end; wiping his specs diligently with
a clean cloth, it was unmistakably Sukhi. Any hope that my infatuated heart
still had, of it being Commode, was over.
“Hi,” he said softly as he saw Puja coming towards him.
“Hi,” she said shyly.
“You look terrific.”
 Even from far, I could see Pujas face turn crimson red, at the compliment.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
Puja nodded, knowing well that he was expecting me. How she wished she
didn’t have to do what she was supposed to do.
“Tanu?” Sukhi looked hesitantly at Puja.
She tried hard to stop her heart from beating so fast, unaware that he was
asking only to keep tabs for Champ s sake.
“Has Tanu gone out with someone?”
Puja shook her head in negation, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the
rehearsed lines.
“Did you read the letter?” He asked after a brief pause.
“Yes.”
“Shall we go out for an ice cream then?” Sukhi seemed unaffected by my
absence.
Ice cream, with him, on V day! It was a compelling offer. Puja nodded her
consent, and they disappeared on his bike from the scene.
With two assignments due the next morning and an expected surprise quiz
to prepare for, I proposed we get back to work and hit the books. Charu joined
me while Divya chose to read a Sidney Sheldon instead. I was wrapping up
the assignments, when our protagonist returned. She had been away for a
good two hours.
“What happened?” I demanded as she came and sat down on my bed.
Divya and Charu also tuned in to hear the juicy details.
“Do you have the letter with you?” asked Puja.
I ferreted among the papers on my desk.
“What does it say?” Puja demanded.
“There is no senders name here, but we know now that Sukhi wrote it.” I
was perplexed by Puja’s sudden detective inclination.
“Turn around and see who is it addressed to?” Puja chose to keep us on
tenterhooks.
“It says …. C3’s friend, Kailash hostel. So?”
I still couldn’t fathom it but Divya yelled. “It was meant for C3‘s friend as
in Puja and not C3 as in Tanu.”
 “How come we always thought he was hitting on Tanu, then?” It was
Charu’s turn to get down to the basics.
“That was my fault I guess,” admitted Puja. “As Tanu and I were mostly
together, he would always talk to Tanu first whenever he wanted to talk to
me.”
“Am I a password to open a locker or what?” I said faking irritation.
“First timers glitch,” pleaded Puja on behalf of her new boyfriend. “Give
him the benefit of doubt.”
“Infatuated Indians Taboo, nothing else.” I expanded the acronym to suit
the situation.
Tickled by my own ingenuous redefinition of IIT, I was still curious to
know how Puja had discovered the truth.
“At first, I thought he was dejected by your no show, so I had to accept his
ice cream offer.” She answered.
“Liar” said I.
“Okay, I was tempted. Couldn’t resist the offer of an ice cream with him on
Valentine’s Day,” said Puja coyly. “But on the way back, when he said he was
glad we were able to connect, I got baffled. It was so comical sorting out the
confusion.” She babbled excitedly.
“Did you say the three magic words?” Tasked curiously. She was for sure
the first girl in our batch to get a real boyfriend.
“Of course not, but he did,” she said, looking even more pretty as she
glowed in his love.
“And the crank calls during the Minors?” I asked only to find the last
missing piece.
“It was a common friend, teasing Champ and him.”
My jaw dropped. “Does that mean Saurabh was calling me Champ’s
persistent Rapunzel and not Commode’s?”
“Apparently yes,” agreed Puja.
I was despondent that Commode had been de-linked. “So who sent the
roses?” I asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t ask, there was too much happening”, apologized Puja.
“Never mind,” I said, unsure of how I would have reacted if indeed
Commode had asked me out on a date. My dreams about Commode had been
very private. Going out on a date would have implied something else.. .an
open declaration of feelings for which I still felt unprepared.
“Is love a chemical reaction or a biological feeling?” theorized Charu,
addled by the sudden turn of events.
“Neither. It is physical proximity,” stated Divya, even as Einstein theorized
‘Gravity cannot be held responsible for people falling in love’.
 Flushing commode

E veryone looked forward to the Informals, an opportunity to ‘legally’

interact with the male world within the hostel premises. Somewhere down the
line, IIT authorities envisioned the need for a healthy social life for its inmates
and decided that each hostel had to have an open day at least once per
semester. The hilarious part was that while we girls had to scout for partners,
the boys were spoon fed! A bus load of.DU girls, considered a better
attraction compared to IIT girls, attended the event at the boys hostels
specifically for the purpose. It was a civilized and arranged dating system,
invented by the geeks, to minimize the effort and maximize the output.
Anyway, tonight was the social evening at the IIT girls’ hostel. I had not
yet overcome my inhibitions with boys and so, thought it best to pile on with
Divya who had invited Commode. I was keenly looking forward to spending
time alone with him perhaps I could show him my certificates and medals for
lack of anything else to do. Duh!
While we waited for Sukhi and Commode to show up, Puja suggested we
go out and watch the new arrivals. Divya chose to stay inside and chat. We
came out of the hostel, crossed the by lane, and parked ourselves on the
boundary wall which was the common hangout zone at Kailash where the
senior girls often sat and yakked the hours away with the boys. How they did
it, with such ease, was an enigma to me and would always be so. I knew
Divya could talk to any guy on the street; perhaps because she was used to her
elder brothers friends, and preferred less complicated relationships, but what
about Commode? He had been friendly with Divya since day one. Had he
also grown up surrounded by sisters or was it simply years of co-education?
In any case, today the boundary wall bore a deserted look as all the couples
were inside the hostel.
We chose a dark corner under a peepal tree, to stay camouflaged. After
waiting for over half an hour, and having checked out over a dozen faces
entering Kailash, some cousins, boyfriends, and girlfriends, I started getting
restless.
“Its almost dinner time now”, I complained. “This is so unfair.”
“See, I think they are there”, said Puja, pointing somewhere in the
darkness.
 I frowned and looked towards the place she pointed, to a silhouette at the
far end of the hostel. “Thats Sukhi for sure”, I concluded. “Is Commode there
with him?” I asked, peering harder.
“I think so, but why are they parked over there?” said Puja.
We came out from our hiding place and started to walk towards them,
when something hit me. I saw Commode throw something down on the
ground and crush it under his shoes, and then I saw Sukhi, walk behind him
with a cigarette butt in his left hand. As I had explained earlier, my guy had to
be a non smoking, vegetarian, and teetotaller. Now, I could perhaps
compromise on the last two points but I had seen my favorite uncle die of
lung cancer at a young age so smoking had to be a surefire no no. I dashed
back to the hostel, unable to think straight and my hopes crashing like Jenga
blocks.
“What are you mourning about sitting all alone here?” asked Piya, as she
happened to walk past my room.
“It s all over between us. I caught him smoking.”
Piya put her arms around my neck and asked with seriousness that I had
never heard before in her voice, “Do you really love him?”
“It’s too early to say,” I replied honestly. “I have had only one meaningful
exchange with him during choreo auditions last semester, and then we gave
him a crank call before the first Minor and he said he wasn’t interested in
girls, but he possibly sent me roses thereafter to make up.”
Piya listened patiently as I recounted my interactions with Commode.
“Other than that it has mostly been a lopsided ogling in classes.” I said,
summing it up.
“I would suggest you go down and talk to him,” suggested Piya. “If you
love him, you will find him appealing irrespective of his habits and if he loves
you, you can always tell him to quit smoking; else you know your answer.”
Now that made sense.
I went down, and spotted Divya deeply engrossed in a debate with
Saurabh, the cute, guy from the train. They seemed to have hit off well as I
had predicted. Without Divya, Commode wandered unattended, while Puja
and Sukhi were nowhere to be seen.
“Hi,” I greeted Commode, surprising myself at initiating a dialogue with
him.
He was glad to have some company. “Kumaon has a good chance of
winning the BRCA trophy this year,” he said.
 “What is BRCA?” I said casually, trying not to ogle at him.
He looked at me pityingly. “Inter hostel events, Quizzing club (QC), Fine
Arts Club (FAC)….?”
“Of course I know these groups and their hostel representatives” I didn’t
want to look ignorant in front of him.
Ignoring my remark, he spoke in an envious tone, “You girls are damn
lucky. You can become a hostel rep without any effort. In fact you even have
an upper hand in getting the Director’s Gold Medal (DGM).”
I had no clue what DGM was, but with an anti minority comment like that,
he was definitely treading dangerous grounds. I was thinking of a smart way
to put him in place when he spoke again.
“The hostel with the maximum points across all the dubs put together, wins
the much coveted trophy every year.” He paused before dismissing Kailash
from the race. “But you girls can never win,” he chorded brimming with
confidence.
Anyone could tell that we would miss the boat. It was purely a play of
numbers, yet how obnoxious could he be? Somehow his egocentric male
chauvinist side appeared a lot less attractive.
I nodded every now and then, and pretended to be interested, but I had
already switched off. No, I felt nothing for him. There was only one more
thing I wanted to find out from Commode.
“Don’t you feel indignant towards the guys who spoiled your name?” I
asked.
“What’s there in a name?” He quibbled.
Perhaps the name was not an issue for him, so I probed, wanting to know if
the actual episode had been unpleasant.
“You know, people have made a bigger deal of it. I practically flushed the
toilet myself, while the seniors admired me in awe. It even earned me a few
hostel points.” He announced proudly.
“How is it going?” Divya asked me in a suppressed tone, as she and
Saurabh joined us. The boys excused themselves, and stepped out, perhaps for
another smoke.
“I am confident that people are not only blind but also deaf when
infatuated,” I admitted. “I was so stupefied these last five months that I hardly
talked to him, and today when I did, I realized he is such a boring, egocentric,
unromantic, trophy freak, male chauvinist smoker.”
 “Wow! Those are a lot of adjectives for a tall, dark, and handsome looking
guy,” laughed Divya. “Anyway, you deserve someone better, someone who is
focused and still multifaceted, sensitive yet determined, caring but not
constraining, and without a moustache,” enumerated Divya, and my heart
swelled with pride for this imaginary knight in shining armour.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” I said finally getting over my feelings for
Commode.
Neither of us sensed Sukhi, Champ s spy, eavesdropping on us.
Later that night, I went over to DD’s den. Something that Commode had
said was still bothering me and DD seemed the right person to ask. I told her
how I was finally over Commode and how good it felt to be free of the
obsession. She gave me an appreciative nod. Before asking her what I had
come to ask, I tried probing a bit. I told her how Commode had been bragging
about Kumaon winning the BRCA trophy this year. As I had expected, the
mere mention of Kumaon stirred unpleasant memories of Champ, and she
started breathing fire.
“These Kumaon guys, I will teach them a lesson”, said DD, in a devious
tone.
Oooh! I pitied Champ for what he had in store in the near future, and then
came to my main point. “What is the Directors Gold Medal?” I asked
casually.
“DGM is an honor bestowed upon the best all round student in each
batch,” answered DD, smiling cunningly.
I visualized our entire batch of over three hundred boys and twelve girls
gathered in the convocation hall, each one clapping and cheering for me as I
proudly received the medal from the IIT Director. “How does one define all
round?” I probed further.
“Well, you need to have a minimum GPA of 8, be an active member of one
of the recreational clubs, must do well in at least one of the sports, and
contribute signifiCan’tly to the hostels management,” enumerated DD in her
shrill voice.
“That does sound a lot”, I said. The only thing I had right now was the
GPA; there too I was a borderline case. “Why did Commode say that we girls
have a better chance of getting the medal?” I thought out loud.
“Because IIT guys like to believe that IIT girls get everything served on a
platter,” smirked DD. “Being a girl does allow you to become a club
representative and get into the hostel sports team easily, but that’s where the
red carpet ends. In fact I think we should be given a discount on the GPA
criteria given the hardships we girls face academically because of the skewed
sex ratio. Look at it this way, all we have is a handful of each other to consult
— the boys have a buzzing intellectual beehive and resource centre with their
numbers,” said DD, lobbying for women rights like a true electoral candidate.
I was amused by her discount idea, and after picking her brains a little
longer, I left with a victorious smile across my face. DD had offered to take
me on the girls basketball team even though I had only played kho kho before,
in school. I already had the required GPA. All I had to do now was become
the hostel representative for some recreational club next year and participate
in its events, become the hostel sports secretary the year after, and then,
eventually see how I could become part of the hostels management team in
my final year. It was a three year long plan, but then, I knew how to work on
such long term schemes having slogged two years for JEE. Commode s
sarcasm had set another milestone on my racetrack and little known to him, I
would soon be setting out to accomplish yet another target.
While it had all seemed simple enough to my inexperienced mind, I had
forgotten that next semester we would be moving to our own departments.
With my JEE rank 212, I was likely to be in the bottom 30% of the class as
the cut off for my department was JEE rank 270. While I had managed to
score a GPA of 8 in the first semester and could possibly maintain it in this
semester as well because I was being graded against the guys with ranks as
low as 1600, it was going to be a tightrope walk next semester onwards. Of
course I had no way of knowing that a lab assistant was going to make life
hell for me or that DD herself would turn conspiratorial.
 The champ returns

W ith my father transferred back to Delhi, shifting our base, packing and
unpacking was all I did that summer.
“It is so easy to notice me. Just like underwear peeping out of a pair of low
waist jeans”, I sulked, having been separated from Divya, my sole female
companion, as we moved to our respective departments in the second year.
“I am the only girl in Comp. Science,” said Divya casually.
I was not reassured. “You blend with the guys like an ice cream in a
smoothie,” I argued.
“How about Puja? She is the only girl in her department too.” Divya gave
another example to comfort me.
But the thing with examples was that while it showed there were others in
the same boat; it did not alleviate the pain factor.
Divya kept quiet, allowing me to vent the frustration.
“First it took me so long to find room 302, IInd block, Electrical
Engineering Department, that, when I entered the class fifteen minutes late, I
got examined by forty male X ray machines. Then, the Professor smiled
dubiously ‘Are you sure you are in the right block girl?’ It was not his fault
that my department had not hosted a girl for the past three years. But by the
fourth lecture my eyes began to droop. Now being the only girl in class had
its disadvantages here. When you are the only curved line among straight
lines, you do tend to stand out like a sore thumb. The Prof, caught me
immediately and threw me a question. The best part however was this lab
assistant. He kept telling me to stay away from the machines lest I hurt myself
How was I supposed to take the readings standing three feet away?”
“Definitely a rough sailing,” Divya empathized.
Suddenly I felt lighter and at peace with myself or so I thought. Women get
great comfort when someone understands them.
“But we can get you a binocular for your circuits lab, so you can take the
readings from far away,” she remarked laughing at her own joke and I was not
so sure if I ought to feel comforted or worse.
Just then Puja traipsed into the room. “Ok guys, we are finally in second
year. How cool can that be?” She said excitedly, her eyes reflecting the colors
of her tie and dye dupatta.
“Wasn’t very for me,” I said giving her a quick recap of my day.
“I managed to change my department from Textile Engineering to
Chemical Engineering,” Charu squeaked timidly as she walked in.
We all pounced on her because only a couple of students every year got the
opportunity based on availability of seats and the GPA. Charu must have done
exceptionally well.
“There is one more thing,” Charu spoke demurely. “I met an NRI during
the summer.”
“You met a prospective groom and you are smiling. Am I seeing things?” I
remarked light heartedly, but Puja sat upright and said, “You did not get
engaged, did you?”
“Of course not. I am happy because I tested Divya’s antidote successfully
on him,” said Charu.
Divya had told Charu to tell the prospective grooms that she had AIDS, so
as to ward the family off. It was encouraging to see Charu fight for her future,
while I struggled against the prejudices of the department Profs, and the
maniacal lab assistants.
We were deciding where we would eat in celebration of such delightful
news when an announcement requested that Puja and I come down to the
Reception. Puja was expecting Sukhi, but who could be calling me, I
wondered walking over to the lobby. Just then I spotted a red T shirt hiding…
or was it peeping from behind Sukhi.
“Welcome back,” greeted Champ.
“Thanks, same to you,” I mumbled, trying not to stare at Champs lips.
Tipped off by Sukhi, that I was not big on moustaches, he had shaved his off
and was looking rather suave.
“I hope you are not planning to leave me again,” he fumbled, and soon
corrected, “As in leave IIT again.”
When you are all of eighteen and a guy, who has shaved off his moustache
for you, fumbles to say he wishes you will not leave him again, your heart
skips more than just a beat. I knew he was teased about me in his hostel, and I
found his partial gaffe pleasantly flirtatious and though quite flattered I tried
my best not to show it.
I smiled coyly and asked how his stint in the US had been.
 “The best thing about America is that the women are really liberated,”
remarked Champ. “Can you imagine a woman driving a DTC bus?”
Women pilots were not a big deal, but a female driving a bus in Delhi —
now that was a revolutionary concept. And here in India, I had a lab assistant
who would not let me near the machines. Imagine his face if he ever boarded
a DTC bus and found a lady driver! I burst out laughing and said, “The lab
assistants at IIT would freak out, maybe even go on a hunger strike.”
“No seriously, if our talent keeps migrating abroad, then who is to be
blamed for this country’s backward mentality?” said Champ
So was I responsible for the lab assistant’s bias against women? Or did
Champ expect me to become a bus driver? “You wanted to go to the US
yourself.” I argued.
“A short exposure is good, but in the long run India is the place to be,” said
Champ.
“How about the number of women in engineering?” I broached the topic
close to my heart.
“The ratio is better than IIT”, he said and added, “but still less than DU.”
DU, DU … I felt a strange choking sensation at the mention of the word
DU. I was trying to establish what had caused my uneasiness when Sukhi
interrupted, “Shall we go for some ice cream?”
“Sure, I can treat. I have some left over bills,” offered Champ eagerly.
Puja tugged at my sleeve, wanting to spend some more time with Sukhi
after the three month long summer break. Commode’s declaratio had cleansed
Champ’s character, and as I was through with Commode I was able to restart
building castles in the air. This time though, it was with Champ. Well, I
certainly had come a long way since the days when I would shy away from
boys! However, there was still the invincible DU enemy to contend with. The
mention of DU had refreshed my memories of Champ’s rumored girlfriend –
the girl for whom he had dumped DD. I didn’t want to get dumped just
because I spent more time in the library rather than the beauty parlor.
Unwillingly, I declined the invitation on the pretext of an assignment and
retreated to my cell.
 Thundering thighs at the JAM
session

W e reached Karakoram, one of the boys’ hostels. Divya and I occupied

adjacent chairs around a rectangular table, seating a dozen other participants
from different boys’ hostels. Puja opted to join Sukhi in the audience.
Saurabh, who was the moderator for the event, stood up and described the
rules of the game and then proceeded to issue the topic. “Titillating,
Tantalizing, Thundering Thighs is the JAM topic of the day”, he announced.
For the uninitiated, JAM or Just A Minute is a game where the participants
speak on a given topic for a whole minute and the scores are dependent on the
duration of uninterrupted and error free speech.
Saurabh took his seat as the moderator, but I was aghast. “How can I speak
on such a shameless topic?” I whispered in Divya’s ears.
“Relax. I will handle it she assured me.
I felt helpless at my automatic disqualification from the competition. How
would I ever be able to participate in any event like this? I could perhaps
bribe Saurabh with Haldiram laddoos assuming he had a sweet tooth and
liked them. The game started and Divya spoke first.
“Titillating Tantalizing Thundering Thighs are the most admirable asset
that my dear debating and literary club leader possesses”, said Divya winking
at Saurabh. “He likes to flaunt his thighs by wearing the tightest imaginable
tights…” Divya commanded attention nonstop for the first fifteen seconds but
eventually lost her turn owing to a scurrying rat.
It was only when he parted his lips to speak that I noticed that Champ was
participating as well. He had managed to score a point by correcdy pointing
out a long pause in Divyas speech and now had grabbed the mike. “I think
God has been partial for he has endowed women with titillating tits and
thundering thighs…two assets that they flaunt shamelessly to tantalize the
men around…” He had barely begun when Divya challenged him for
repetition of ideas and regained the mike.
“A mouse was running down the hallway when it spotted a tantalizing
thigh …”, said Divya, and lost her chance to Champ for speaking out of
context. This went on and for the most part the moderator kept shuttling
between Divya and Champ who were hell bent on fighting tooth and nail for
the top spot. And I for the most part, kept looking down at my thundering
thighs presently sticking to my salwar, pulling my kurta from one side to the
other in a desperate bid to cover as much of the flab as possible.
The moment the game got over I quietly slipped out, while Divya waited
inside for the scores to be totaled. Puja had just joined me, when Divya came
galloping towards us and proclaimed her victory.
“How can you be so bold?” asked Puja admiringly.
“Its the stigma associated with the image our mind conjures up after
processing the Words that embarrasses us”, explained Divya. “I simply
pictured Saurabh in tights rather than a girl and the narrative became
entertaining instead.”
After this explanation Divya rose even higher in my esteem. Her
innovation and impromptu answers amazed me. Champ too had spoken well
though the sentences had been a tad embarrassing. Yet I was ruffled over my
imposed defeat.
“Perhaps I expected more class from the cream of the nation,” I said,
criticizing the choice of the topic.
“Men inherently have no shame,” laughed Divya.
Here I was, ruing the fact that I had wasted over ninety minutes on a stupid
event without getting a chance to participate, and Divya was siding with the
guys! I wasn’t embarrassed anymore. I wasn’t even amused. I was angry.
“Surely there was some amount of gender discrimination,” I cried out in
rage.
“And who is accountable?” Divya asked me, her voice stern and yet kind.
“Only the guys? Are you not equally culpable by letting it happen?” Divya
disputed my claim.
I was taken aback by Divya’s challenge. This was the second time in the
last month that I had been charged with passive offence. The first had to do
with the absence of lady drivers in India, as maintained by Champ. Was I in
any way responsible for being discriminated against? Was I telling the lab
assistant to keep me away from machines or the Profs to pick on me in class?
Was I making the guys in my class exclude me from their discussions? Was I?
Now I was not only getting angry, I was also getting frustrated at being unable
to make any headway.
Seeing the situation get tense, Puja intervened, “You may feel worthier, if I
tell you that Champ lost because he spent too much time eyeballing you.” She
had started linking me with Champ ever since Commode had got
extinguished.
“Why would he eye a green vegetable when he has a plate full of fries?” I
lightly challenged Puja’s outlandish remark, though it did lessen my
annoyance.
“A heart problem?” speculated Puja, knowing well that I had implied his
DU girlfriend when talking of fries. *
“Going by the bulge on his tummy, he might as well have high
cholesterol,” I kidded.
“Or color blindness.” Divya joined in, having returned to her cheerful self.
“Stop it”, said Puja turning serious. “I swear I saw his eyes sparkle when
he looked at you.”
I was warming up to the possibility, when Divya doused me with cold
water. “Perhaps Champ was visualizing his bewitching DU girlfriend when
Puja saw the sparkle in his eyes?”
“But Sukhi said that Champs latest gal means a lot to him, and he has
never seen Champ pursue anything before,” persisted Puja.
“Did he say who this female was?” questioned Divya, who preferred facts
to fiction.
We had almost reached the hostel gate, and heard an internal call being
announced for Puja.
“Sukhi is already missing you?” I sounded more surprised than I had
intended.
I wasn’t sure if she looked entirely pleased to get a ‘have you reached
honey’ call, but she asked if she should find out about Champ’s latest muse.
Champ was undoubtedly not pursuing me. It had to be that DU dame, but
why lose even the merest glimmer of hope? He was perhaps worth something
if a DU dame was latching on to him so hard and fast. Now, one needs to
know that at least at IIT, every other guy wanted or rather coveted a DU
girlfriend but only the lucky few ever actually got one. I was certainly starting
to enjoy this fictitious fling with Champ, though outwardly I feigned utter
disinterest in any investigation.
 Making connections

“H e will give me a ‘C’” I said, standing three feet away from the
rotating DC motor. This was our first Minor in the Electrical Circuits lab, with
the incorrigible, gender biased lab assistant looking on as we crowded around
the motors trying to take the readings.
“Nice joke,” said Silver trying a hand at humoring me and simultaneously
reading the ampere meter attached to the motor.
His real name was Aryan Gangora and he had sat beside me in Dutta’s
class once. But ever since Divya had nicknamed him Silver, after his initials
Ag, the chemical symbol for the metal Silver, the nickname had stuck. Silver
had been my lab partner from day one just as Divya had partnered suave
Commode the day we set foot in class. This generally disheveled guy who
walked around in bathroom slippers however, became a good friend over a
period of time and I got used to him and his appearance. It had really helped
that he wasn’t anywhere in my radar as a prospective groom. No danger of
that happening!
“I am serious.” I persisted, keeping the English simple so Silver could
follow.
“Who asks the most questions during the Circuits lectures?” Silver quizzed
me like a school master.
“I do.”
“Why only you?” he asked. He wanted me to learn through introspection I
guess, but when I drew a blank he clarified, “Because others don’t understand
enough to have any doubts.”
“Take five readings for each wire,” directed the lab assistant, stopping by
our table.
“But this is not a theory test, this is a practical,” I argued getting back to
the issue at hand once the lab ass was out of earshot. “I have only been
watching you wire the connections from a distance for the last six weeks. I
have no clue how to do it myself,” I said, playing with my plait.
“No problem. This is a group test”, smiled Silver, holding three different
colored wires in his hands. “You tell me the theory and I will put it into
practice.”
 For the next few minutes, I directed him using the connection diagram in
my notebook.
We were an odd pair. I don’t know whether it was his dedication,
simplicity, or the agricultural Hindi medium background, but we often ended
up confiding in each other and boosting the other’s morale. “Focus on your
work, no talking, girls and boys”, shouted lab assistant as he came back.
“Girls? Excuse me? Either his English is bad or he is confused by your
curls and earrings”, I remarked to Silver, irritated with the lab ass. “And why
keep quiet? It’s not a suspense movie; it’s a god damn boring three hour lab
test.”
Silver ignored my cribbing which was increasing by the minute; and
instead was checking the wires even as I accidentally tripped over one.
“Madam, will you please leave the lab now?” The lab ass told me curtly
quite exasperated with my nonstop chatter and tripping over the wires.
Leave the lab? But he hadn’t even checked our connections or asked me
any questions. How was he going to grade me? I thought of asking him, but
he was already harassing the guys on the next table for their messy, loose
connections.
I looked at the watch. It was 5 o’clock. I gathered my sheets, and walked
out of the lab alone. I couldn’t become a bus driver in India nor could I
describe titillating thighs in front of hundred desperate dudes, but I needed to
win over the lab ass. What a hopeless situation I had got myself into! Girls
did deserve a discount in the GPA criteria for the DGM. I hoped that someone
up there was seriously listening to DD.
 The ‘Rendezvous’ couple

D uring the next week the Minors kept us busy but it was not long before
the annual cultural carnival swept us away in a whirlwind of activity. Once
again, the campus came alive and the festive hustle and bustle reminded me
of the lively and crowded Durga Puja pandals.
Sukhi and Puja had enrolled their names as a couple for the most
sensational event of the festival, something most people on campus looked
forward to – Mr. and Mrs. Rendezvous. As the name suggests, the game
involved a question answer session to judge how well you knew your partner.
The prize for the most synchronized twosome was a free dinner at a five star
hotel. Divya and I were sitting on a railing nearby, when Piya walked past in
Shilpa Shetty attire. We all (including Sukhi) gaped at her bare legs and
shoulders as her off shoulder dress stopped a good eight inches above her
knees.
“She is fighting hard to give IIT girls a bold cum brainy makeover”, said
Puja lightheartedly about her own sister. Transparent bra straps were still not
common place lingerie.
“There is nothing wrong with flaunting your assets”, said Divya in Piyas
favor. “The rich wear diamonds, a musician sings, and the intelligent asks
question in class.” Divya had a totally different though very refreshing take
on most things in life.
I was wondering if guys did get attracted to or even turned on by such
display, when Saurabh came huffing.
“Divya, let’s participate in the game”, he said. Saurabh had been
frequenting Kailash often to meet Divya, both for club activities and an
endless supply of homemade sweets.
“You are a great one for freebies! Lets go” Divya got up to enroll with him.
“Tanu, why don’t you also find someone?”
Find someone? How was I supposed to find someone who would be ready
to partner me for a game? As I looked around hopelessly, I spotted Champ. I
smiled at him and he smiled back. Surely he could become my Mr.
Rendezvous. I was about to ask him, when Silver obstructed my view. He
needed help with locating a book in the library. I swiftly instructed him and
realigned my line of sight with the red T shirt. Champ was standing very close
to me now, and next to him stood a DU bimbo, wearing a short denim skirt
and a body hugging blouse. I saw her give Champ a tight hug, followed by a
quick peck on his cheek, and felt a pang of envy. Why?
Just then, Silver enquired about the event. As I elaborated on the
opportunity to dine in a five star hotel, Silvers eyes widened. So when he
urged that I participate with him, I could not deny him a chance.
The game’s results divulged more about our relationships than we had
bargained for. An unknown DU couple came first, two IIT boys teamed as a
couple were second, Champ and his girlfriend were third, and surprisingly
Divya and Saurabh came fourth. Puja and Sukhi only had a quarter of their
answers concurring, while Silver and I had rated even less. We were about to
leave, when the moderator declared a consolation prize for the highest one
way match, and the unexpected winner was Silver. His knowledge on my
preferences had matched a majority of my answers. While Silver was thankful
for the unexpected windfall, I silently wished it had been Champ instead and
exited the venue ASAP.
Sitting in my room later that night, I needled Divya. “Do you like
Saurabh?”
“He is a guy after my own heart – live life king size”, said Divya openly.
“I think he is perfect for you”, I said, having done the matchmaking the
very day I had first met Saurabh and felt quite happy for Divya.
“You are thinking a lot like Puja these days”, she joked.
“So nothing is brewing between the two of you?” I asked as a wave of
disappointment washed over me at Divyas lack of interest in the guy I felt
would suit her perfectly.
“Plain friendship. Very platonic.” She summed it up so casually.
Though Divya was not the type to hide her feelings from the world, I
wasn’t satisfied by her answer. “What about Commode? Is he also a friend?” I
probed further. Surely there had to be someone. But who?
“There is no exclusivity in friendship; Commode is still a good friend,
though we get to meet less nowadays as he is in a different department”,
clarified Divya and went back to the Sidney Sheldon.
I could never relate to Divyas many male friends, for whom she felt
nothing more, perhaps because I had never had such liaisons nor could I
understand them. My relationship with Commode had ended the day I was
cured of my infatuation. The only guys I knew at IIT were either my lab
partners or my girlfriends’ friends. Well, that was with the exception of
Champ, whose status was indeterminate. He was not a friend and yet he was
more than one. I remembered how he had come to me after the event and
clicked my pictures for the Rendezvous Mood Photo Competition. I was
unaware, but his ploy to use his DU dame to make me jealous had worked
finally. I was still not bonkers over him, but he was gradually growing on me.
Disappointed that Divya felt nothing special for Saurabh, I shifted my
attention to the sulking beauty. “Why are you lying low Puja?” “Nothing.
Sukhi is a real nut”, she griped. “How can he blame me for not knowing him
well? His answers didn’t match mine either.” “Hmm.. but Silver seems to
know Tanu a little too well”, said Divya without looking away from her
novel.
“We are just lab partners”, I said defensively. Surely Silver can’t be
thinking otherwise.
“A gramophone among the Ipods? But old is gold – that is Silver”, joked
Divya and we all laughed it off.
 The tortoise and the hare

T wo voices could be heard engaged in major discussion on the cricket field.

“Who is this new bloke?” Champ was furious as Silver had foiled his plans
to participate in Mr. and Mrs. Rendezvous with me. Champ had got the D U
girl to the even t only to make me jealous, but his plan had backfired.
“A depi and a labi,” responded Sukhi promptly.
“Real threat?”
“Doubt It,” said Sukhi.
“But he knows Tanu inside out?” Champ hit the ball hard imagining it to
be Silvers head.
“So do you.” Sukhi had to pace across the field to reach the ball.
“Yet Tanu chose to partner with him,” argued Champ
“Remember the tortoise in the story?” said the husky voice.
“I will keep hitting this cricket ball and that hare will get the carrot.”
Champ clearly had little faith in fables.
“You need some one on one moments with Tanu”, suggested love guru.
“Where? In ITT? That seems doubtful.” Champ gave him a disgusted look.
“Tanu will be going to Inter IIT as part of the girls basket ball team”,
hinted Sukhi.
And a red blip darted towards the squash courts. He had two months to
pick up the game, beat others to the hostel team, and reach Inter IIT.
 Puja and Sukhi

“H ow was your day?” I asked a forlorn looking Puja.

“Nothing special,” she replied, almost too quickly.
I looked into her eyes. The spark was missing. “Did you have a fight with
Sukhi?” I asked.
“There is no way I can have a fight with him,” grumbled Puja.
“He is perpetually trying to please like a politician.”
“And that bothers you?” I could have understood if it was a lover’s tiff that
upset her but I was surprised to hear her complain for the lack of it. Guess
there are always exceptions to the rule.
“How would you like it if your boyfriend always walked you back from
classes, called up every hour to ask if you were happy, remembered each and
every thing you said, and never got upset with anything you did?” said Puja.
“Like I was living with a television stuck on a romantic channel”, I
contributed, but she didn’t seem to find it funny. Just then, we heard the PA
system announce an internal call for Puja. She knew Sukhi was calling to
check if she had reached the hostel safely, and grumpily went down to answer
the phone. Well, that was life! First we mourned the lack of romantic interest,
then when we did get one, we found it stifling to say the least.
This semester had not sprung any undesirable or unpleasant surprises yet,
but I could still feel goose bumps on my arms as I entered the first class the
Monday after our second Minors.
“Congrats”, greeted Silver, as I took my regular seat in the first row, next
to him.
“Why?” I asked hopefully. Maybe the lab ass had changed his mind and
given me an ‘A’.
“Have you seen the exchange program short list?” he asked.
I indicated ignorance and awaited further explanation.
“Your friend Puja has made it to the top ten.” Silver was beaming selflessly
like it was his name that had figured in the selection list.
“That’s incredible, I mean it’s beyond belief,” I simplified for Silver to
follow.
This was the same exchange program under which Champ had gone-to the
US for a semester last year. I felt a trifle jealous that I hadn’t made it but
Puja’s selection was undeniably terrific news, and she was really excited
when I met her for lunch.
“They will chuck me out for sure. Piya had a better GPA, yet she was
eliminated,” said Puja with an angelic confidence. “Even Sukhi is certain it’s
a gimmick.”
“They ought to select a girl from the cultural diversity perspective,” was
Divya’s assessment.
“And why has it not been done in the past if I may ask the self appointed
judge?” I pulled her leg.
“They need an ambassador for Indian culture as well as IIT’s academic
brand,” explained Divya. “Maybe the girls so far have been good only at one
of the two.”
Divya’s logic made sense. “Puja is an irresistible brains plus beauty combo
offer,” I seconded, but our esteemed candidate laughed off the accolades.
She wore a plain white Lucknowi suit for the final interview on Thursday,
with a mirror work dupatta, and when the names of the two selected students
came out, only Puja and Sukhi were surprised.
“I passed something that Piya failed”, squealed Puja, astonished but with a
glimmer of pride in her eyes. Pujas whole life had revolved around tailing
Piya, but the hope that someday she would surpass her had never dimmed.
“What about Sukhi?” I asked.
“He is still in the state of denial.” She said exasperatedly.
“It’s only a semester.” I was finding Sukhi’s possessiveness irrational and
irritating.
“You know how paranoid he is”, Puja explained figuring out my irritation.
“Cautious you mean?” I joked trying to laugh it off instead.
“Of late, it’s been bordering on the line of finicky”, she replied.
“Sometimes he bathes every hour to make sure his skin is dust free.”
“You seem to have changed your opinion of him over the last eight
months.” I commented cursorily
“Up, close, and personal revealed a different man.” Puja was somber now.
 “You possibly cannot take that Rendezvous contest seriously.” I knew she
had been agonizing over their low compatibility score in Mr. and Mrs.
Rendezvous event.
“That was just a numeric valuation of the cosine distance between our
diverging paths.”
“Are you breaking off then?” I asked.
“Not yet, I do want to give it another chance,” said Puja.
“Across seven seas, over ISD calls, and through fortnightly letters?”
I was finding the idea ridiculous.
“It will give us the much needed space to rethink our relationship.” She
was definitely thinking about calling it off. “You are already talking like an
American,” I teased, and she started whistling the tune of her favorite number.
 Sukhi’s dilemma

W hile Puja slept peacefully that night, someone counted sheep and for once
Champ was on the other side.
“Puja is leaving.’’ It was Sukhi’s turn to grumble.
“She will be back,” encouraged Champ, thoroughly reveling in his role as
the agony aunt.
“What if she changes her mind?”
“More chances it will happen if you hold her captive.”
“But women need guarding,” argued Sukhi.
“She is not your bike,” said Champ.
“I will miss her.’’ Clearly Sukhi was undergoing separation anxiety.
“Don’t be a sissy,” mocked Champ.
“Look who is talking!” Sukhi jumped upright from his bed, forgetting his
misery at Champ’s provocation.
“What? I am crocheting this lace for my mom”, defended
Champ.
“May I ask why this sudden interest in embroidery?”
“So Tan u doesn’t reject me as a good for nothing and Kathak is way
beyond me,” said Champ. “You see a stitch in time saves nine.” It was all a
part of Champs game plan.
“Maybe I should start music lessons to impress Puja,” pondered Sukhi.
“Better sing than be sorry,” said Champ.
“Yes boss,” said Sukhi, and saluted Champ.
 Just friends

I t was a pleasant Saturday afternoon. Charu and Puja had gone home for the
weekend as always and Divya was busy helping Saurabh prepare for CAT. Of
late she was either wrapped up in timing her speed at the tracks or tracking
Saurabh’s time at mock tests. So engrossed was she with him that I sometimes
wondered if he wasn’t using her. I tried working on some tuts, but my mind
refused to cooperate and constantly wandered off. It was preoccupied with all
the scheming involved in reaching the DGM, but the lab assistant’s surly
attitude had all but shut the doors leaving me trapped.
“C3, guest for you”, roared the PA system at tea time.
Must be Silver or Papa’s driver, I mused on my way down
“Hi, I thought it was my dad’s driver,” I blabbered incoherently as I saw
Champ waiting for me instead. He usually stopped by with Sukhi on college
days, as a passive member of Puja’s chaperon service, but never alone on a
weekend.
“Doesn’t look like I fit your dad’s driver’s bill. Not for now, at least.” He
gave a flirtatious smile, and said, “Anyway, congratulations.”
“For?” I asked with a confused look.
“Your team’s victory in the Dumb C event last week”, he explained.
I smiled proudly. I hadn’t been able to speak a word in JAM, but staying
dumb in Dumb C had worked.
“Treat?” he asked, expectantly.
“You don’t think, we won because you challenged us?” I gave him a hard
stare.
“I thought so”, replied Champ hesitantly, wondering if he had played the
wrong card.
“You know, you guys are so presumptuous”, I ridiculed.
“I thought you loved challenges”, said Champ meekly.
It felt good to see him go weak, but I was only pretending. “You are a
jumbled up ‘I DO IT’ guy’’, I teased, and gave him a big smile. We had
formed the Dumb C team in response to a challenge from Champ and Sukhi,
though there had been the hidden agenda of taking a step closer to my gold
medal.
He successfully unscrambled ‘I DO IT’, and countered mischievously,
“Call me an IDIOT if you want, just don’t make me a bhaiyya. I can’t stand it
when girls make every chappu a brother, because they are scared to make
friends.”
Surely I had no intentions of making him my bhaiyya. But wait a sec…. he
was not visiting Kailash just because I had won Dumb C last week. I was
about to ask him, when he requested, “Can you also get Sukhi’s lucky pen
from Pujas room? He has to write GRE tomorrow.”
“Do you believe in such stuff?” I asked mockingly not knowing whether to
take him seriously or dismiss it altogether.
“If it can help me get an ‘A’ in die Circuits lab”, he quipped playfully.
Champ knew about my agonies in the Circuits lab. I was amazed at the
depths to which Puja discussed me with Sukhi (and Sukhi obviously
conveyed these pieces of information to Champ), but that Champ cared to
remember was even more flattering.
As we were walking out of the hostel, I saw the first year girls teaching the
underprivileged kids, like we had done last year, as part of National Service
Scheme (NSS) requirement. A thin girl, wearing a faded frock waved at me
from among the students. She was the lab assistant’s daughter, who I had been
teaching voluntarily this semester. I smiled and waved back at her. We had
barely crossed the hostel boundary wall, when I saw a disheveled person
approach us. Silver! In the excitement of going out with Champ, I had
forgotten that I had asked Silver to come down so we could work on an
assignment together. I was feeling awkward about Silver, when Divya and
Saurabh emerged from the visitor s lounge. The moment Saurabh heard free
food; he started salivating, managing to persuade even Silver to join us.
“Poof!” there went my .chance of any meaningful conversation with Champ.
“I had no idea we had so many Dumb C enthusiasts in Kailash”, I said, as
five of us stepped out for the treat.
“Dumb C is certainly inauspicious for your financial health”, joked
Champ, giving me an intimate ‘sharing a private joke’ look that threw me off
balance and left me yearning for more.
Why I cherished Champs company more than Saurabh’s or Silvers, I chose
to overlook, but I think it was largely his unavailability (because he already
had a girl friend) yet easy accessibility (as he was always around with Puja
and Sukhi), that intrigued and provoked me.
 In my excitement, I failed to notice a pair of envious and curious eyes
peering at me from the floor above…..in DD’s quarters.
A day later, as I finished the warm ups at the baski courts and stopped for a
breather, DD hailed me for a private chat.
“Stay away from these treacherous IIT boys”, she cautioned. “Flaunting
their intelligence among DU girls”, she condemned them further. “You know
these IIT guys refer to the IIT girls as non males.”
Surely DD was over Champ and couldn’t be bothered with his DU girl
friend. Whatever be the reason for her bitterness, I kept quiet, lest a rebuttal
jeopardize my chances at Inter IIT.
Happy to gain my silent acquiescence, DD mellowed down. “You are a
smart girl, I can already see a worthy successor in you,” she observed.
I couldn’t believe that DD thought I could follow her foot steps and
become a part of hostel’s management team. I was already the EDLC rep and
I was going to play in the girl’s team at Inter IIT this year. If only the lab
assistant would let me near his machines, I could be well on track and inching
toward my goal.
 One step forward, two back

W e left for IIT Mumbai, by the August Kranti Express, on a Friday

evening. Thrilled to be traveling with friends, and embarking on my first trip
without family, I secured my mini suitcase and grabbed the empty seat near
the window. I was looking out at the busy life on the railway platform, when I
spotted Divya and Saurabh, flipping through novels, at a nearby stall. His left
arm came around her shoulder and rested roughly near her bra clip. I was glad
Saurabh had come to see her off. My misconception was soon corrected as
my eyes fell on a familiar blue backpack lying on the floor, as usual neglected
by its careless owner. No chaperon service, Saurabh was piling on the same
train back home.
The only upside of having Saurabh on the same train was a two minute
Champ preview at a station the next morning. Saurabh had got down for
snacks bringing Champ along and Divya had pulled me out as well. It goes
without saying that Divya was footing the bill, having lost some random bet
to Saurabh. How this guy could sponge off people was something that
astonished me no end. I had heard that there was no such thing as a free
lunch, but here was a living example of something totally contradictory to the
adage.
“You are spoiling me, Divya,” said Saurabh, gulping down his third free
samosa. “I will be hard pressed to find a comparable replacement at IIM.”
Discomfited by the talk of replacing Divya, and insinuating a complete
lack of any emotional involvement after all that she was doing for him, I
challenged that he first needed to get into IIM.
“Of course he will,” said Divya supportively.
Here I was, fighting tor Divya’s cause while she seemed least bothered by
Saurabh’s use and throw attitude. “Aren’t friends mementos that you cherish
for life? Why replace them?” I attacked directly.
“Don’t take it literally, Tanu,” said Saurabh to calm me. “In any case, you,
I, and these trains have a contentious history, so I better get going.” With that
he ducked into his coach, carrying two more samosas in his hands.
He had evaded the question and escaped. Clearly friendship was merely a
station on the way to his destination. He had no intention of committing
himself yet he could not be charged with falsehood for he had never conveyed
otherwise.
We reached IIT Mumbai (at Powai) in the afternoon, and soon after, junta
headed to the nearest beach. Divya and I chose a secluded corner on the far
end of the beach, and sat studying the gradual build up of the waves’
momentum and then their sudden release of energy as they neared orgasm,
each time leaving a fresh watermark on the virgin sand. We were marveling at
nature’s ability to rejuvenate itself, when Champ approached us.
“Care for some coconut water?” he asked, juggling three coconuts in his
hands.
We accept one each, and Divya resumed her silent analysis of the sea,
while I intermittently sipped the sweet water awaiting Champ’s next move.
“So when is Puja leaving?” he inquired, happily swigging the dear liquid.
“Around Christmas”, I replied.
“You think she loves Sukhi?”
Now I knew why he was here. It was obvious that he was playing Sukhis
messenger. “I think she needs space,” I answered honestly.
“Hope this separation reignites the spark between them,” said Champ.
“Sukhi is already sporting an unshaven, Devdas look, and humming Talat
Mahmood’s sad songs.”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew that Puja had pretty much given up on
Sukhi, but I kept quiet.
“That’s a very intricate lace on your skirt,” he commented after a short
pause, his head tilted to one side and his eyes admiringly looking into mine.
“My aunt did the lace work and my mom stitched it,” I said, rather
surprised by his interest in threadwork. Usually one expects men to be
oblivious to such finery but there seemed to be exceptions to the rule in this
domain too.
“I can’t make something half as beautiful. It requires way too much
patience.” Champ carefully played his first card. He had been hoping that I
would wear this dress, sometime during the trip, and give him the chance to
show off.
“You mean you can crochet?” I asked incredulously. This possibility was
even more bizarre than his passive act of observation.
Champ smiled and said, “Now that women are driving buses, men better
learn to bake and embroider.”
 Wooed by his subtle, humorous way of endorsing a viewpoint, I was trying
to picture him with a needle and thread, when we heard loud cheering nearby.
Piya was dancing in the waves, her clothes drenched by the salty sea water
and clinging to her body like second skin. While everyone ogled at Piya, as if
she was a seal at a show in one of those water parks, Champ chose to
comment on her other qualities. “Did you know Piya works for an NGO on
the weekends?” He said, playing yet another card to impress me.
Obviously I had no such inkling, but I soon discovered his source of
information.
“According to my friends at DU, Piya is the most kind hearted girl in their
social service circle”, informed Champ. He was focusing on making the most
of our one on one moments.
The reference to his DU dame didn’t upset me. For now, I was impressed
that Champ was unaffected by Piya’s sensual display. “She does volunteer her
heart quite often”, I joked.
“I would say she is taking full advantage of being a feminine drop in the
ocean full of masculine elements,” he replied thoughtfully.
“You mean like converting a liability into an asset.” I postulated, surprised
by his unconventional view of the world.
“Bingo”, he raised his hand in a high five and I reciprocated impulsively,
only to be tingled by the warmth of his palm against mine.
It was strange how Champ had shown me the way to fight for myself in a
skewed game. Ever since the day I had walked into my department and the
Professors had given me the ‘Please go to the next shop Madam’ look, I had
been burning with a desire to disprove them. My discreteness in the
department was helping me get noticed; I only had to leverage it to my
advantage.
“So what game do you play?” asked Divya, after what seemed like an
eternity during which Champ had revealed his tomfoolery as a teenager, and I,
my childhood fears, he had proclaimed his career aspirations, and I, my
frustrations with the IIT ecosystem, and we had both established our fondness
for homemade moongdal halwa. Lost in our carelessly whispered sweet
nothings, we had completely forgotten Divya.
“Squash.” Champ answered Divya’s question.
“Did you play last year?” Divya pried.
“No, I hit the first ball just a few months back.”
“And you made it to Inter IIT?” Divya made no effort to hide her surprise.
 “I usually manage to get what I desire,” he boasted, confidence oozing
through his smile like mayonnaise from a McDonalds burger.
It would be an understatement if I say that I was totally in awe of Champ.
He could crochet a lace, he saw sense where others saw sex, and he had the
ability to master whatever he desired in the least amount of time. Playing
squash had even cured him of his bulging belly. Surely he was allowed to be
proud of his achievements, but Divya found the trumpeting unnecessary.
“Anyone can be a king in their own house”, Divya dismissed his play.
“Why don’t you come for the match tomorrow and judge for yourself?” he
offered. “It’s in the afternoon, soon after the girls baski prelims.”
A confirmation receipt slipped out from my tongue even before Divya
processed the purchase order.
“Let’s go back Champ. You have got quite TANned”, hollered Sukhi from
a distance. The pun did not go unnoticed and I felt shy all of a sudden.
An involuntary smile crossed his lips as he saw my reaction and he waved
back an acknowledgement to Sukhi. “By the way, I owe you guys a treat,” he
said as he was about to leave.
His company was feast enough for me. Anything else was icing on the
cake.
“Remember the picture of yours I clicked during Rendezvous. Actually I
won second prize for that photo”, he said.
“I hope you are not getting away with coconut water,” chided Divya.
“I hope you won’t let me,” he said. “Please join us for a small party at the
shack the day before we leave. Ciao”, he said and went away.
“This guy has style,” admitted Divya, and I watched him take a dozen long
strides away from me, before losing him in the crowd.
I had let myself into this relationship with a ticket for genial camaraderie,
but like a silly little girl licking the insides of an empty ice cream cup, now, I
was yearning for more. I stepped into his footprint in the sand and felt the
softness where he had stood moments ago. The speculative contact stirred
something in my body. If this was love then I wanted to parasail in this
exhilarating island forever. Divya nudged me to move and I followed her in
silence, replaying the entire conversation again and again in my mind.
The next day Divya insisted we go and evaluate Champ at the courts, and
after feigning disinterest for a few minutes, I happily wagged behind her.
Seeing Champ in shorts for the first time I was not averse to admiring his well
toned hairy legs, when he stole a glance in my direction. I smiled shyly,
butterflies fluttering crazily in my stomach, hoping he hadn’t caught me
staring at him. “Better be more discreet next time you go boy watching,” I
checked myself, thoroughly enjoying this hide and seek foreplay. Needless to
say, Champ was a pro at the game. Even Divya applauded as he earned a
smashing victory against his opponent. The next few days flashed past.
Champ and I spent every waking hour verbally discovering ourselves and
each other. When we were not practicing for our matches, or watching each
other practice, we would slip down to the nearby cafe and sit there for hours
talking about everything and nothing. Soon enough we came closer and
became more intimate.
Our last day came too soon, and as we were about to enter the field for
semi finals, DD gave us a success spiel, “Lets break a leg guys. There is no
point in contesting, if you think you are second best.” When it came to
competing, there was no one who was keener to finish first. For her sake, we
did triumph that day, and yet DD gave me only a half hearted smile. The other
half was fuming over my increasing affinity with Champ. Unmindful of DD’s
growing envy, I got ready for Champ’s party in the evening. The party was
rocking and had all the fun elements in full force; funky music, colorful
lights, and loads of people from all the five IITs. I was impressed by the
gathering given this was Champ’s first time at the meet. Feeling
insignifiCan’t, I was about to disappear in some corner, when I caught him
staring at me. Dressed to kill, as usual, in a red T shirt, his smile left me weak
in the knees, and I stood still waiting for my hero to sweep me oi l the ground
in true Bollywood style. Suddenly from nowhere came a familiar whiff of
perfume that transported me back to reality. I could not believe my eyes! His
DU dame whizzed past me and before I could regain my balance, she had
planted a kiss on both his cheeks.
 Love Guru @ work

O n the train back to Delhi, two riends discussed their futures.

“Tanu left the party,” said the
red T shirt despondendy.
“Puja is fleeing the country,” cribbed the husky voice.
“But I thought Tanu liked me,” sulked the red Tshirt.
“Same here. I thought Puja liked me,” sighed the husky voice.
“Yours is different. I haven’t even taken off and you are already in the air,”
reasoned the red T shirt.
“Yet we are both scared of crashing,” said the husky voice, feeling his
scenario was equally miserable.
“When does this trend reverse?” the red Tshirt inquired.
“When she becomes a wife,” the husky voice replied.
“Are you sure it’s not that farmer classmate of hers?” asked the red T shirt
doubtfully.
“I was also sure Puja loves me,” replied the husky voice dejectedly.
“I wish girls were straighter,” said the red t shirt.
“I beg to differ here. I like mine curvy,” clarified the husky voice.
“Now what?” asked the red Tshirt.
“One, two, cha cha cha”, said the husky voice.
“English please”, demanded the red t shirt.
“Tanu loves to sway, so twist her around, and waltz away,” replied the
husky voice back in his role as the love guru.
 Champ pain

“I s everything all right?” Mum asked “You hardly ate your favorite aloo
curry today?”
“I am fine, just a bit low’’ I said taking refuge in the rampant viral
infection, so she wouldn’t pry any further.
I think all mothers have a mood meter to help them with their detective
work. It’s not like I needed to hide anything from Ma, but what could I tell
her? I was madly in love with a guy, who had already given his heart to
someone else? And wait a second, what was his real name? Because of my
“friends only” facade, I had even forgotten to ascertain if he was a baniya.
Anyway, it was too late to do any ref check now, besides being unnecessary.
This relationship was not destined to go anywhere so why should I bother?
In any case, Ma soon got busy with my sister, who had managed to get
pregnant within the first year of her wedding, much to my parent’s delight,
and was spending her first trimester with us. Sometimes I felt I was closest to
my kid brother, who regarded me with a lot of respect and wanted to follow
me into IIT, but then, he was too young to understand my agony. I tried to get
in touch with my Delhi school friends, only to realize that we had all changed
in the last four years. All of them thought I was quite lucky to be among so
many intelligent guys at IIT. Well, if only they knew the truth!
Those days, in the pre email and mobile phones era, it was hard to manage
post heartbreak stress as intercity telephone communication was both
expensive and insecure. I did exchange a few letters with Puja, but snail mail
was, like its name, way too slow to give me any comfort. If the book Men Are
From Mars….is to be believed, then Martians would think that seclusion had
a soothing effect, but we women from Venus prefer to talk things out. Cut off
from my girl gang and the rest of the world (read Champ),I watched KHKN
(Kabhi Haan Kabhi Na) twice everyday to share my sorrow with SRK.
The only good news I heard during that break was that I had managed a ‘B’
in the Circuits lab and my GPA was on target. Now that was something. It was
perhaps the only silver lining on my horizon filled with dark, ominous clouds.
I recollected how I had gone to meet the lab ass after the second Minors, with
my marks still hovering near a ‘CM had intended to beg him to let me connect
the wires, but had been nonplussed to find him pleading with me instead, to
stay away from them. Before I could insist further he had broken down in
tears. Apparently his reason for getting me to stay away from his circuits was
because of his daughter s frequent illness. Some nutritional diet fundas and
occasional tutoring of his ten year old weakling had done the trick for me. A
man of integrity, he had given me the grade I deserved, but he had let me near
his machines in the final exams. With my GPA back on track and the girls’
team victory in Inter IIT, my gold medal project was going great and the
target was not as far away as I thought. So all I pined for was Champ, Champ,
and Champ.
The day before the next semester was to start; I reached the hostel early
and fished around for Divya. I knew she was back for her room was unlocked.
“Must be out with that donkey”, I cursed Saurabh. Charu was also out of
bounds, surrounded by an army of servants helping her settle down. Puja of
course was on her way to the exchange program in the US. I could make
small talk with others, but my mind was so choc a bloc with contradicting
arguments, that I had no other option but to stay put, within the four walls of
my room, till someone came to my rescue. So I waited for a messiah to
appear.
“Hi there, how have you been?” Divya asked as she came in. It was nearly
nine.
“As if you care.” I made no effort to hide my annoyance.
“Sorry yaar” she apologized. “Saurabh wanted me to help him out with
group discussion (GD). He is expecting calls from the IIMs soon.”
“That’s what. You are so damn busy babysitting Saurabh that you” have no
time to spare for others.” I accused angrily, forgetting what I had originally
intended to discuss.
“Lets talk later. You are in a bad mood” she said calmly and left.
What did she mean bad mood? And how could she abandon me like that? I
wanted to scream that Saurabh was limply using her as a sounding board to
get through CAT, but I did nothing of the kind. Instead, I went out to
apologize for my boorishness, but she had bolted the door against any further
appeals. Dejected, I was trudging back with drooping shoulders when Piya
saw me from the stairs on the way to her room.
She walked over by my side, took my hands in hers and asked if I needed
some help. Her concern unplugged my bottled emotions, and a dam burst as
my lungs echoed a wheezing sound and I tried to control the flow of tears.
She helped me to my room and sat down next to me waiting patiently. I
recounted the extraordinary times that Champ and I had spent together at Inter
IIT and how it had fizzled out at the scent of a DU dame.
“Looks like I am the designated doctor for Champ pain (Champagne)”,
Piyasaid lightheartedly.
Unable to understand her intent, I looked at her perplexed.
“First DD and now you”, she said, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Is she still? I had no clue.” I said hesitantly, toying with my plaits.
It may be sheer coincidence but the fact that both DD and I fell for the
same guy surprised me for sure, especially as there was no shortage of guys
around. In reality however, the reason was simple. Only a handful of IIT boys
interacted with the female species at IIT.
“I think DD has moved on and I can vouch that Champ never had feelings
for her”, comforted Piya. “Rather, Champ loved your pigtails from day one”,
she revealed. She knew as Sukhi had come and told them so, on our very first
day of classes, just before my Pretty Woman ragging.
My heart skipped a beat at the thought that Champ liked something in me
and it lifted my spirits and made me feel much better. Nevertheless, I urged
Piya to keep my feelings hidden from DD.
“Life is like a game of cards”, she said quoting Nehru ji. “The hand that is
dealt to you is determinism; the way you play it is free will.”
I was genuinely impressed by her deep fundas. “How would you play it?” I
asked.
“I would rather experience this desperation for someone than be stuck in a
boring marriage and cherish the memories as a brilliant jewel”, she declared.
“Your love may have lasted for a moment, but your memory can make the
moment last forever.” Piya was clearly reading some book on famous quotes.
She sounded way too deep for all that I had heard of her shallow affairs
and short dresses, but the clouds clogging my mind cleared as I found my
karma, without any fear or lust for the payoff. “Can I ask you something
personal?” I asked, feeling much better.
“As long as I can choose not to answer”, she replied, flirting with her eyes.
“Have you ever been in love?” I said, and searched her deceiving eyes for
an honest answer.
“Once”, she said softly; reflecting on the memories her face brightening up
at the emotional spike.
It was inconceivable that someone could abandon Piya, for it was
impossible to find a more straightforward, kindhearted, and sexy girl. I looked
at her with bewilderment.
“Bad timing”, she said, laughing it off. “He was too young to commit.” She
was still a dazzling beauty, but the brilliance that adorned her moments ago
dissipated.
“Is this why you never stay too long with one guy?” I spoke gingerly.
This time she broke into peals of laughter like I had cracked some joke.
“No, I have my own selfish reasons for that,” she professed. “If not for my
boyfriends who eagerly do my assignments, I would be a five point
someone.” She pulled my dimpled cheeks like I was still a child at these
games, smiled at me, and left.
So this was Piyas secret! No wonder the glam look, guys, and grades all
worked so well without any glitches like the well lubricated parts of a
machine. She was indeed ambitious like the rest of us, and an expert at
employing her charm and beauty to her advantage. Here was something I
could learn from her, I thought.
 A chocolate cake and lonely
valentine

S wamped with advanced department courses, the first month whizzed by

with me hard at work. At classes, I took every opportunity to bombard the
faculty with my doubts. “Better to ask a foolish question than stay a fool for
life” was my latest mantra. My grades were constantly improving and Silvers
presence bolstered my confidence and soon people were calling me an
electrical ‘machine gun’, an accolade I was proud of. During our spare time,
which was well and truly spare these days, I would often fantasize a chance
encounter with Champ and hypothesize my response. Thankfully or
regretfully, no such situation arose.
And then one fine day I was tramping around the baski courts, when I
heard his voice.
“Care for some fresh lime?” He asked holding a squash racquet in his left
hand.
‘Kabhi coconut water, kabhi fresh lime, do you own a juice shop or what?’
I wanted to ask Champ, but the desire to keep talking washed over me and the
dryness in my parched throat prevailed. I consented to his offer.
“Long time, no see,” I remarked casually, as we sat on the wooden planks
near the juice counter. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a make shift juice
shop, nestled under a shaded tree, right across the sports fields.
“You left the sea in Bombay?” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Was the word play innocuous or was he alluding to my abrupt departure?
How could I unveil the deep hurt I had suffered at his party? Speechless, I
toyed with the empty juice glass. I saw him lick the froth of the tangy juice
from his upper lips. It reminded me of a scene from “Dil Hai Ki Manta Nahi”
when Pooja Bhatt imagines licking a watermelon seed from Aamir Khans
lips. Feeling a strong urge to kiss his lips, I quickly looked away.
“You are so lucky to have your parents in town”, he spoke wistfully.
This was the first time I had heard a boy complain of homesickness. “Do
you miss yours?” I asked kindly.
“In case you thought otherwise, I have a heart as well”, he said teasingly,
placing his right hand where his heart was.
If only I could oust his heart s current occupant and acquire a lifelong
lease, I thought to myself.
“In fact I think boys are more emotional”, he said.
‘Emotional my foot’, I wanted to shout back, victimized by his two timing,
but the innocence of his endearing eyes quelled my defenses and left me
vulnerable. “If boys become emotional, then women would have to become
practical,” I snapped.
Instead of getting piqued by my remark, he humorously asked, “So Ms.
Practical, how come no Dumb C this semester?”
It was hard to stay angry with someone so charming, for more than a few
seconds. “To refresh your memory Mr. Sensitive, Puja, an integral part of our
team is missing,” I replied calmly as we started ambling towards Kailash.
“Where is my Puja?” he said in a dramatic voice, before breaking into a
big grin, and then added, “Sukhi has the same sob story.”
Before I realized I was also giggling with him. “What else have you been
up to?” I asked. This was my best attempt to dig out details of his DU
pursuits.
“Primarily Tryst,” he replied.
I looked up at him in admiration. Tryst was our annual technical fest, the
kind of competitive event that I kept away from, for fear of losing.
“You participating?” he asked.
I sensed an underlying expectation in his question, but replied flatly, “Too
intellectual for my taste.”
“Sounds bizarre coming from a go getter like you,” he said, narrowing his
eyes in disbelief.
“Let’s say I know my limits”, I said, trying to put my foot down.
“I would say you don’t,” he contradicted decisively.
I was elevated to cloud nine by his vote of confidence, and then
unknowingly fresh lime and evening stroll became a regular feature of the
subsequent months.
I remember distinctly that it was two days before Valentine s, when I got
the greatest surprise of my life. We were sitting on the parapet, outside the
hostel, when Champ handed me a six inches wide, square, paper box, and
said, “I have made a little something for you.”
 Removing the cello tape carefully, I uncovered a heart shaped, scrumptious
looking, chocolate flavored cake. Amazing! What an unexpected treat!
“Your Rendezvous photo treat was still due,” he explained, and left in a
jiffy without giving me a chance to express my gratitude.
I kept staring in the direction he had vanished, motionless, my mouth wide
open. Champ had baked a pre Valentine’s Day cake for me. Was I dreaming or
had this just occurred? Had his DU dame ditched him? Was he on a rebound?
Regardless of my transient role as an emotional first aid dispenser, I was
happy. I ran up the flight of stairs and dashed into Divya’s room, a bundle of
excitement clutching my gift close.
“Yummy,” said Divya devouring a huge piece while Charu helped herself
to a small portion.
“Champ baked it for me,” I disclosed modesdy.
Divya stopped eating midway, as if reevaluating the taste and then
continued to gorge. “Hmm… so Puja was indeed right that Champ has a thing
for you. First he learnt to crochet, then he picked up squash, now he bakes?”
She remarked, after wiping licking her fingers clean with her tongue.
“Are you guys going out on VDay?” Charu spoke gently, careful not to
spoil the ethereal occasion.
“He hasn’t asked yet,” I replied with a twitching sensation in my stomach.
Charu was kind enough to propose a girls only outing in case my tadpole
chose greener pastures.
This year too, V Day saw me sitting near my window and scrutinizing the
grounds for a familiar flash of red. I did this till it was dark, and my neck
strained from the many hours of sitting in the same posture, and my eyes hurt
from continuous staring. When there was no more hope, I figured Champ and
his girlfriend must have patched up again. You can’t build your Taj Mahal
using borrowed love; I reprimanded myself, and half-heartedly went out with
Divya and Charu on an all girls date.
 One love

A re you again eating out with Saurabh?” I asked as I saw Divya carrying
two dinner plates outside
the Mess.
She nodded her head and asked why.
“Come by when you are done,” I said. “I just wanted to catch up.”
“Join us in visitors lounge,” she offered.
“Want to get together for some girl talk,” I paused, and then added for
effect, “without Saurabh.”
“Ok, will come back by ten,” she promised pretending not to notice what I
meant and left.
“Yellow lights, old Hindi songs. Are you quitting again?” quizzed Divya
barging into my room. I hadn’t noticed the time slip by.
“No, just disoriented, I suppose.”
“So what did you want to talk about?” She asked.
“Nothing much.” This is how the fairer sex has evolved after years of
subjugation, afraid to see or speak clearly. But Divya was no ordinary woman,
so I came as close and quick to the point, “I was wondering about Saurabh.”
“Did he say something to you?”
“No, I mean you and him.” Divya was an oaf when it came to delicate
matters, so I elaborated
“I enjoy his company,” she accepted. “We play different word games and
debate about the world.”
“Don’t you find him too happy go lucky?” I asked.
“Suits me fine,” she replied.
Divya was still on a different track, so I put it as bluntly as I could. “I mean
there is life beyond hostel events, and his free spirit can come in the way of
your relationship.” There I had got it off my chest.
“Wait, wait. I am not like in love with him nor am I marrying him.” Divya
defended herself having finally got what I was trying to say.
“But you do care for him more than your other male friends,” I insisted.
“Tanu, you are imagining things.” She said dismissing the idea entirely.
“I am seeing what you are not,” I said. “You yourself admitted that you
guys connect well.” Now what game was she playing?
“Yes, a d we are good pals, like you and me,” she said calmly and went
back to her room. There it was, out in the open now. The same clichéd we are
just good pals’! Who was she kidding?
I couldn’t argue any further especially as I wasn’t being particularly smart
myself, pinning my hopes on reservation against DU cancellation.
Next day, I was basking in the sun, having gobbled four Sunday special
cutlets while Divya was sitting outside with Saurabh.
“Those are real cute dimples. I wish I had them”, said Piya, fluttering her
eyelashes.
What in the world did she need my dimples for? She already had the guys
eating out of her palms.
“Your friend Divya, is she going out with this guy?” Piya sounded
concerned.
So was this all about Saurabh? I chose not to comment on the contentious
topic.
“I know Saurabh, he is an agreeable guy”, said Piya. “All for a free ride, as
long as there are no strings attached, but you try to tie him down, and bang, he
will disappear without a trace.”
This was the most unusual forecast I had ever heard, that too from Piya
who never stayed with one guy for too long.
“In any case, he will be graduating next year. What is the point of spending
one year hand in hand for a telephonic romance afterwards? Not a good
investment if you ask me.” Piya dispensed some sane advice at last.
“Thanks for the cue,” I said amicably. Something in Piyas eyes told me she
knew more about Saurabh than she was telling, and I prayed earnestly that
Divya was not investing heavily in the Saurabh bond.
 My silver lining

I t was ten days now since I had last met Champ. I quickly finished my
classes and dragged myself to the basketball courts in the hope of catching a
glimpse of someone in that familiar shade of red, but once again luck seemed
to time out on me. I was walking back listlessly, dreading the lonely weekend,
when I caught sight of Silver in the Kailash lounge.
“Hi,” I said cheering up at the sight of his lively face.
“Your tut sheet was in my lab book,” he justified his presence.
“Do you have some time?” I asked, surprised at my own impulsiveness.
“I was hoping to run by the library,” he replied candidly.
“Can we go for a coffee?” I insisted. Even though I felt a strong urge to be
alone, I knew it would only make me feel worse.
“If we are going to splurge, I might as well utilize that Rendezvous gift
voucher,” he said, his eyes sparkling like he had chanced upon an unexpected
fortune.
Within half an hour we were sitting at the Hyatt Regency coffee shop,
enjoying the aroma of fresh coffee beans. We selected the most expensive
options from the menu that would be within the coupons limit and got set for
a good time.
“You remember I told you about the ATP ranks,” Silver asked while we
waited for our order to arrive. Silver was constantly amassing new
information, from all possible sources, to make up for his starved childhood.
Tennis seemed to have caught his fancy big time for he was always adding
small tidbits to his knowledge bank.
“I am ATP rank 1 in a way,” he said shifting uneasily in his seat.
The waiter came and placed our drinks.
I took a sip of the cappuccino, felt rejuvenated and bounced back. “I had
no idea you played the game!” I expressed my bewilderment.
“Its ‘ATanu Philic’ not ‘Association of Tennis Professionals’”, he said,
rocking back and forth in his chair.
No. Don’t say anything more. Stop. I wanted to tell him. “Ouch, the coffee
is too hot,” I coughed, and he slipped a glass of water towards me.
“I really love you a lot Tanu.” He came straight to the point.
“No Silver, please no,” I said wondering if this was really happening to me.
“I don’t know when, but somehow, sometime, I started liking you more
than a lab partner,” he said staring at me continuously in utter disregard of
what I was trying to say.
His penetrating gaze made me stir more sugar in my coffee. “You are much
more than a classmate to me,” I said each word slowly and carefully, “and I
feel comfortable around you, but I feel no more.” I was trying to put an end to
his infatuation as calmly as I could but that seemed to be making him a little
agitated.
“Is there someone else?” he asked, his eyes searching desperately for a
flaw in his proposition.
“Not really,” I replied hesitantly not wanting to let out more than I wanted.
“You mean your love story is about one way traffic too, like mine.” He
spoke gingerly, adding the last two words after a slight pause.
“If only God had attended our Circuits course, he would have wired closed
loops rather than leave open ends”, I joked, trying to ease off the tension a bit.
“Souls can’t be wired like electronic gadgets. Their connection just
happens.” Silver theorized. Well, if only this was true!
When everything else fails, ideology comes to the rescue but I was busy
considering three parallel lines of thoughts – How must Silver be feeling?
What will happen to Divya and Saurabh? And how will I feel if, and when, I
muster the courage to confront Champ?
“Are you really shattered?” I asked, feeling awkward but trying to address
my first concern.
“You want me to cry here?” he asked daringly.
“God, no, I am already feeling guilty enough at having hurt you.” I
immediately backtracked.
The waiter came and Silver presented the coupon. I had overlooked the
fact that he had won the prize for knowing me so well in Mr. and Mrs.
Rendezvous.
“Can we still be friends?” he probed the practical side effects, as we
climbed into an auto on our way back.
“Absolutely,” I said with a meek smile.
 I knew it was selfish of me to feel relieved and I knew I wouldn’t be able
to reciprocate if Champ asked me the favor, but for now the damage had been
minimized. He dropped me back at the hostel and we parted. I had learnt
another lesson. A boy and a girl can remain friends only if they already have a
better half, else the person without the half concerned, invariably ends up
falling in love.
First thing Monday morning, I updated Divya and Charu on the
catastrophic coffee outing. Yes, catastrophic, no less for both of us.
“Poor Silver,” chorused Charu and Divya together.
What? These girls were actually sympathizing with him? “Listen, I thought
you were my pals. Aren’t you sorry for me?
“First you drive your city car in such a way that a poor bicycle rider loses
control, then you walk away from the accident, and now you expect to claim
insurance!” Divya had to find some strange yet funny analogy.
“Tanu, I think you should clear things up with Champ too,” suggested
Charu somberly. “I know Piya told you to play blind, but beyond a point it is
better to look at your cards.”
I promised to make an attempt at disaster recovery. Though how much
could be recovered was anyone’s guess.
Easier said than done, for the next two weeks I buried myself into books,
excluding any other thought from my mind. Never before had I been so
grateful to have Minors closing in. The Saturday after the Minors, I was
contemplating between going home and chasing Champ, when Divya barged
into my room.
“You can’t leave,” she said as she noticed my clothes, lying in a pile on the
bed. “Saurabh is taking us out for lunch.”
“Cool, so he made it to IIM Ahmedabad,” I concluded, certain that
Saurabh wouldn’t part with his money for anything less meaningful. I was not
going to miss the chance of a lifetime to fleece him; Champ’s confession box
could wait.
Chanakya Nirulas was the typical, big treat joint among the IITians. We
took a table near the window. I ordered a regular pizza, a large coke, and a
triple sundae.
‘Free food, friends, and freedom from assignments,’ what more can an
IITian ask for? I was about to ease off into Nirvana, when an intimately
familiar fragrance jolted me back into existence. Champ was seated two
tables across, to our right, with his back towards me, and his DU dame was
staring intently at him, looking a bit confused, yet stunning as ever.
He can’t do this to me, not again, and definitely not after all those fresh
fruit juices and the heart shaped cake. I sat motionless, looking out of the
window, the only part alive were my eyes which were gradually welling up
with tears.
“What are you gawking at? The fare is on the table,” prodded Divya.
I took a slice and pretended to eat, but I had no appetite left. I feigned a
stomach ache and excused myself.
Enclosed in the sanctity of my room, where no one could criticize me, I let
it sink in and wept. The agony was incomparable. I had never felt so low, not
even when I had lost a race or failed an exam…which of course had never
happened. “If only I had seen the layoff coming post Inter IIT crash or even
when he demoted me to the bench three weeks ago,” I lamented, wiping the
silent tears. I must have fallen asleep sometime, for I woke up on hearing a
loud knock on my door.
“Who is it?” I asked not ready to face the world yet.
“Champ is waiting downstairs for the last half an hour,” Divya shouted.
My first instinct was anger. What did he take me for? An FM channel he
could tune into, whenever he desired? “One last time,” begged a little girl
from within. “It can’t get any worse,” my weaker self argued. Well, the little
girl inside me did have a point. Giving in, I gathered myself up from the bed
and requested Divya to let him know I was coming.
“I am so glad you woke up,” he said as he saw me approaching.
He was wearing the same clothes as in the afternoon, but had dark circles
under his eyes. Serves him right, I swore in my heart, wondering if a high
maintenance chick could be so stressful.
“It’s been a busy day. Care for some juice and a walk?” he proposed.
I agreed without a thought. The best part about being broke is that you
have nothing more to lose.
“Have you ever been up on the Convocation roof?” he asked as we neared
the Institute building.
“No, but it’s supposed to be some hyperbolic parabola or a parabolic
hyperbola.” Discussing concrete at that time seemed easier than dealing with
emotions.
“Let’s check it out,” he said, and grabbing my hand he pulled me along.
 I felt no tingling or electric current at his touch. Were’nt you supposed to
feel this if touched by someone you were attracted to? So did it mean that I
had been cured of my infatuation or was it that I was still numb from the
lunch time shock?
“I love this place,” he said, looking down at the lights glowing within IIT
campus and beyond so it was obvious he frequented this site. Did he come
alone or did he bring his girlfriend here too?
The convocation hall roof certainly offered a breathtaking view of the
sprawling campus, but I had been too deep down in the dungeons today to
feel uplifted.
“Do you want to dance?” He broke the silence.
“Here? Without music?” I found the proposition absurd. What was this guy
up to?
“I have a small Walkman we can share”, he said, and taking out a portable,
Sony audio player from his pocket, he handed me an ear plug. A melodious
Kishore Kumar number was playing. Then without warning he drew me close
to his body, his arm held me lightly around the waist, and off we glided
effortlessly across the roof. With the temptation to garner some more time
together and a frantic yearning to be frantically adored, I moved to his
rhythm. We must have been dancing for nearly thirty minutes, oblivious to the
world, when the music ended and he let me go reluctantly.
“Won’t you ask me where I have been?” He tried making direct contact
with my eyes, but I shirked away as my eyes were prone to overflow at the
slightest compulsion.
“I know you were with your girlfriend,” I replied hurt and angry. Why was
he being so theatrical?
He gave me a bemused look.
“At Nirula’s, in the afternoon. I was there.” It felt good to have an upper
hand even though I had lost everything.
“You were, really? Strange that I missed you. Guess I had too many irons
in the fire. Did you see Rachna? She was there at the beach party in Goa too.”
“
I have seen her a few times at Rendezvous”, I said, making a conscious
effort to filter the expletives.
“Rachna and I are childhood friends. We have almost grown up together,”
he said, but I was least interested in listening to his love story.
“When she rejected my proposal three years ago, I thought I had lost the
reason to smile,” he was saying.
“She did?” It was almost unthinkable that someone could deem my hero
unworthy.
“I gave up on my grades and sulked for one whole year, until you came by,
and suddenly it felt like the sun had finally broken through the clouds. Once
again I wanted to play, laugh, and dream, but having faced one rejection I
refrained from approaching you directly and sent you the roses… ’
So it was Champ and not Commode who had sent the flowers. I affixed a
little post it in my mind to update the girls on the case of the mysterious roses,
as he continued to speak.
“…Every day I tailed Sukhi to Kailash to catch a glimpse of you, learned
to embroider so I could praise your skirt, and picked up squash to meet you at
Inter IIT.”
“You did?” I was impressed by the amount of effort he had put into trying
to get my attention.
“Yet in Mumbai, after a few blissful encounters, you disappeared from the
party leaving me crestfallen,” he sounded confused.
It was strange how we both, underestimated ourselves and fearful of being
turned down, had needlessly endured heartbreaks. And then maybe it was not
all in vain, for our love had grown with each passing day feeding on our pain.
“It has taken a lot of persuading from Sukhi, pushing from Rachna, and
jazz lessons to get me where I stand now.”
He continued but I heard nothing after that. The steep ascent from no
takers to house full had left me giddy, and his lips even more irresistible.
Though neither of us had professed our love in words, the news of our
romance spread like wildfire in the hostel and the entire campus. The girls
were all agog at the news as I had made them believe that Champ already had
a girlfriend. Sukhi gave himself a pat on his back for Champ s success, while
Saurabh called us Prince Champ and his Rapunzel. Piya wished I had told her
about Rachna so she could have cleared the air long ago, but room B8 looked
like a war zone, where a green eyed monster, the envious DD was preparing
for revenge.
 Exploring newer pastures

“S ukhi is being excessively unreasonable and melodramatic,”

complained Puja, mindlessly folding and unfolding a tutorial sheet. The fifth
semester had just started, and Puja was back from her exchange program,
having also managed to exchange her boyfriend while on the trip.
“What did you expect? A goodbye kiss? You just dumped the poor guy”, I
argued on Sukhi s behalf. Somehow my sympathies lay entirely with Sukhi.
Puja had undoubtedly been heartless in dumping the poor chap without so
much as a by your leave. Whether I empathized with his predicament because
he was a chum of Champ’s or because I genuinely felt for him, I was unsure.
“I am remorseful, but Sukhi and I were not meant to be,” said Puja.
“You liked the cover page, read the first few chapters, and then lost interest
and returned the book back to the stack. How can you be so self centered?” It
was difficult to digest that my own friend could do something unscrupulous
like deserting a true lover.
“This isn’t control engineering Tanu. I can’t regulate what I feel for whom
and when.”
“Ishq par zor nabin, hai yeb woh aatish Ghalib” “Who am I to defy the
famous poet, but what if it is loneliness rather than love that drove you close
to Rahul, your co traveler in the exchange program?”
I wanted to make sure Puja was not mistaken.
“I have mulled over it from all angles,” said Puja, anxious to win my vote.
“How do you know this is the one? That this is eternal?” I asked.
“Nothing is eternal, it’s primarily inertia,” replied Puja.
“And I thought love was unscientific,” I argued.
“It is an empirical science,” she countered.
What had happened to Puja? Since when did she start talking in riddles?
“I can see that Rahul’s profoundness is rubbing off on you,” I said, picking
on Puja, “but can we converse in simpler terms?” Now I was getting tired of
this rigmarole.
“Go with your heart, not against it,” she explained. “In the beginning, I
was steered towards Sukhi, but gradually the novelty gave way to monotony
and we hit a plateau. It was at this stage that Rahul made an entry. I was
mystified as to how I could have fun with him, when I ought to be despondent
on separating from Sukhi, but I had no answers. So I let the status quo
continue for the next few months. During that period, I realized that while I
doted on Sukhi s physiognomy, I delighted in yakking with Rahul. While
Sukhi and I debated over our respective interests, Rahul and I strove for
mutual accord, and while Sukhi was my supposed love, Rahul was my
desirable companion. Despite all the positive signs, I didn’t want to make an
impromptu decision, and hence I told Rahul that I needed to use the summer
break for a rethink.”
Somehow I could not suppress my laugh here. “You and these rethinks!” I
exclaimed exasperatedly.
She ignored my interruption and resumed. “The instant he was willing to
let go even if it meant losing me forever, I knew he was the one. Nevertheless,
I tarried for a month before delivering the verdict in his favor.”
“In a nut shell, you are telling me its largely a gut feel. What if your heart
starts craving for a third person tomorrow?” I challenged her intuitive logic
trying to find some chink somewhere so I could corner her and make her
admit she was wrong in dumping Sukhi.
“I do believe that a plurality of soul mates can exist, but you only find
them when you look, and you look when you are dissatisfied with the current
one,” she stated simply.
“Trust you to propound a lazy search algorithm. As long as you are happy,
you respond, and the moment you get bored, you go pick another bond.” I
teased her, although privately admiring her factual approach.
“I understand why you did, what you did, yet I feel sorry for Sukhi,” I
replied honestly.
“Why? Because he is Champs chum?”
“No, because you are a gem and I know how it feels to lose one. Give him
some time to sulk; hopefully he will bounce back,” I advised.
Acquitted of malicious intent, Puja veered towards day to day life. She
inquired about my summer job and I told her it was extremely rewarding.
Puja glared at me, misunderstanding the reason I had chosen to toil in the
Institute during the summers.
“Honey, money, and DGM”, I clarified to spare her any anxiety. My other
motive aside from Champ, who was doing his industrial training nearby, was
to earn mindshare for girls. I wanted to be known by the Professors around so
that when the time came, they would not reject me as a serious contender for
the DGM just because they hadn’t heard my name, but Puja couldn’t care less
for my passion to promote the IIT girl brand or get the DGM.
“Have you guys kissed yet?” Puja asked suddenly, her eyes dancing in
mischief. “I can give you some tips if you need,” she offered.
“Don’t tell me you have already kissed Rahul?” I asked, falling off her bed
in excitement?
“Rahul is a ‘pukka dehati’; shy of even holding hands, but I did a lot of
window shopping in the States,” she said. I listened with rapt attention as Puja
gave a detailed account of the free kissing shows, widely prevalent on
campus. “Now you tell me,” she asked playfully.
“Sorry to disappoint you ma’am, but I have no tales of amorous caresses
and canoodling to relate;” I disclosed. “Champ and I have plenty to learn and
unlearn about each other, a biological study can wait. Besides, there’s never a
place where we are alone, and neither of us is bold enough.”
“Boldness is relative to what is acceptable in a society. Here our parents
select whom we marry. Back in the US you take many test drives before
clinching the deal,” expounded an enterprising Puja, and I marveled at the
change a brief exposure to supposed liberation had brought about.
 Win some, lose some

V oting was over, and we lingered outside the students’ activity center,
adjacent to the sports fields, in anticipation.
“I pass the sports secretary baton to you,” felicitated DD, who had been
elected uncontested to the post of house secy.
Before I could rejoice at the news, DD was regretting Divya’s loss. “I
beard that Saurabh has located a new bed n breakfast at IIM Ahmadabad,” she
said cunningly.
“Let her sneer,” I whispered, pulling Divya away. She could do without
that kind of talk for some time. DD had become anti me ever since I had got
together with Champ. If it had been in her control she would never have let
me become the sports secy, but she had no choice. There was no other girl in
our batch who wanted the position.
Later in the day, Puja and I were catching up on a whole semester of
gossip, when Divya scurried into my room.
“I haven’t received any letter from Saurabh,” said Divya with a surprised
look.
“He must be busy,” I said, remembering how crazy our first month at I IT
had been.
But Divya wasn’t convinced. “I am planning to fly to Ahmedabad over the
weekend,” she announced.
“How can you just get up and go like that?” I blurted out, like I was her
guardian.
“I will call my brother and tell him,” she replied calmly but resolutely.
It was clear that I couldn’t alter her decision, but I pried further, “You
always proclaimed Saurabh was just a friend, then why are you bothered by
rumor about his new girlfriend?”
“I have no problems with his new girlfriend, but he can’t forget old pals,”
she said and dashed out before I could counter argue.
If Saurabh had found a new girlfriend, it was obvious that he would have
little time left for his other, close, female friends, but there was no way, and
hopefully no need, for Divya to sec my perspective.
The weekend was almost over. I had thoroughly enjoyed an evening out
with Champ, and was bringing Puja and Charu up to date, when Divya
walked in buoyantly, her face all aglow.
“There is no way you can imagine how my weekend was,” she said
gleefully. It had to be something spectacular for the girl was on cloud nine.
I was comforted by Divya’s beatitude. “Going by the brilliance on your
face, it couldn’t have been bad,” I said and we all laughed.
We all listened intently as she chronicled how Saurabh had been startled to
see her in his room, which he had invariably left unlocked, and had
apologized for being unresponsive. Apparently LIFT (life at IIT) was a piece
of cake as compared to the GRIM (grind at IIM) and DD had only been
rumour mongering about his girlfriend.
“Stupendous,” said Puja, but I sensed that there was something more in the
offing.
“Is that all?” I asked apprehensively waiting for what was to come next.
“Do you promise not to get angry with me?” asked Divya with a naughty
look in her eyes.
Giving a nod was the only viable response under the circumstances.
“Saurabh and I…. we went all the way,” she declared boldly.
“YOU DID WHAT?” I shrieked not ready to believe my ears. It was not
everyday that one heard casual confessions of this kind. And what was more,
it was not backed by any guilt or remorse. And Divya seemed to be enjoying
her role as the narrator!
“Nothing much. We just made out,” she rephrased casually, as if losing
one’s virginity was an everyday affair at IIT.
I was just finding this whole episode unacceptable. “What about your ‘we
are friends BS’”, I accused her, visibly disturbed, startled and shocked at the
same time.
“We are still friends,” she defended herself.
“What do you mean you are still friends?” I was finding it hard to hide my
displeasure. “So was it a one night stand?”
“I take what life gifts without assessing its durability or value,” replied
Divya loftily.
This was certainly a breach of boundaries as far as I was concerned, but
then my cut-off point was different from hers and I didn’t want to be
judgmental. “I hope you used protection,” was all I could mutter. What was
that word now? Rubber? Yes, I got it right this time!
“We used rubber all right… the ribbed ones,” Divya confessed
complacently, leaving me speechless and Puja re-evaluating her theory of
relative boldness.
A couple of days later, we were having dinner, when I asked out loud to no
one in particular if they had seen Divya.
“She went to the market to call Saurabh, having received a crossword by
Courier from him”, said Charu.
Saurabh had spent money on couriering a love letter! Things could only get
better, but for some reason a specific rhyme kept bothering me. Something
akin to “Georgie Porgie, puddin and pie, Kissed the girls and made them
cry.”
“There has to be mistake. I can’t decode the meaning.” Divya sighed, as
she stepped into my room looking exasperated.
“Let’s see, what have you got so far.” I took the letter from her hand, and
read it aloud. “The weekend was great, but I am calling it off because I can
give you no more.”
“What is he calling off? We are not even dating.” The oddity addled Divya,
and though the message was crystal clear, neither of us had the courage to tell
her.
I didn’t see her at breakfast the next day, and assumed she must have gone
to call him again, but she was not around at lunch either. When she was
absent at dinner too, we panicked. Not wanting to alarm her parents, we
decided to call her elder brother.
“She left for Ahmedabad by the early morning flight,” he told us. “I
arranged her ticket through a friend in Delhi. Tanu, do me a favor. Please let
me know when she gets back,” he requested equally hassled at not knowing
what was afoot.
I had barely slept, after hours of tossing and turning in bed, when the door
squeaked open and she walked in sluggishly, dragging her mutilated soul
behind her. One look at her and I knew exactly what had happened. It did not
take much figuring to piece together the details either. Her eyes were swollen
and crimson red from hours of crying, and the dark circles underneath gave
her thin face a ghastly look.
“Thank God you are back.” I couldn’t bring myself to mouth ‘in one piece’
for she was anything but intact.
“I couldn’t crack the last crossword,” was all she said before collapsing on
the floor, completely devastated.
Piya had been right; Saurabh was still a child and Divya a sketch pen in his
hand, all exciting and fun when new, but a menace when it started to stain.
And then suddenly, it all made sense. I realized this was not the first time
Saurabh had wriggled out of a relationship. Piya must have been in her first
year and Saurabh in his second, when she fell in love with him, and he had
been too young to commit then and was too young to settle down now. If only
I had listened to Piya’s warning, I might have been able to save Divya. I
blamed myself for putting this girl through the mess she was in now.
I informed her brother, and he took her back home. She badly needed
external help and fast if she was to extricate herself from this episode without
permanent damage.
 Of broken rules and hearts
I

was meeting Champ after one full week. We sat on the boundary wall outside
Kailash, our fingers entwined, like all the other couples I had watched when I
was new to IIT.
‘‘Can you believe Divya will have to drop a whole semester? Life can be
so unfair.”
Her brother had intimated me yesterday, and I had thought of nothing else
since then. Disturbed as I was, I wanted to share my feelings with Champ
expecting some words of comfort but he seemed to think otherwise.
“Trust me; ten years hence, you will be laughing it off as mere
foolishness,” Champ asserted.
I was surprised how Champ could be so casual about life. “You were
supposed to be the emotional kinds,” I said.
“Emotional and realistic. Time is a great healer and experience is the best
teacher.” Champ reasserted, to comfort me but he was not going anywhere
with that kind of reasoning.
For Divya’s sake I hoped that Champ was right, but I was still aghast at
how Saurabh could have been so heartless especially after all that Divya had
done for him. The ungrateful wretch!
“What did Saurabh do?” Champ asked as if nothing had happened.
“You cannot possibly be on Saurabhs side! This is not boys vs. girls.”
“I am on nobody’s side,” stated Champ.
“But you ought to be; Saurabh hurt Divya.” I was beginning to get irritated
by his casual attitude.
“So did Puja,” reminded Champ softly.
“That was different.” I shook my head.
“You are right”, said Champ. “What Puja did was much worse.”
I saw a glint of Sukhi’s pain reflect in Champs eyes like Divya’s had
flooded mine. “You are being nasty,” I protested.
“What Puja did was nasty,” declared Champ, pronouncing each word
clearly.
“She believed she loved Sukhi, but soon she realized it was a mistake.” I
tried to explain Puja’s actions.
“Likewise, when Saurabh figured that Divya loved him, he realized it was
a mistake.” Champ drew the analogy.
“All the same, Sukhi is around and Divya isn’t.”
“Because Divya has no one to blame and forgiving oneself is as torturous
as beating up your own child.”
I dwelled on Champ’s reasoning and prayed that Divya would be; lenient
with herself.
Looking at my meditative face, Champ changed the topic and said he had
some fabulous news to cheer me up. He told me he had learned from his
seniors that our microprocessor Professor sets the questions for the exams
from a specific antique book with only one copy in the library.
I was elated at the tip. Of late, I had been spending more time with Champ
than my books and my GPA had slipped way below my target. Now that was
not good news for someone who had the gold medal as the target.
The next day, I was about to leave for lunch, when Silver probed, “You
seem to have succeeded in closing your circuit’s loop.”
This was the first time he had alluded to the awkward and disastrous coffee
outing. Feeling an urge to help him, I disclosed the microprocessor secret
Champ had leaked last evening. I certainly felt better.
Instead of being surprised, Silver was embarrassed. “I forgot that you have
no seniors,” he said guiltily.
I was stunned. “You mean you knew about the book?” I asked in disbelief.
Ruefully, he offered me the book’s photocopy doing the rounds in the boys’
hostels.
Here, I had been slogging my ass off so I could keep my GPA above
average, and the boys happily had the key to the exam questions. No wonder I
could never get an ‘A’. I felt cheated. So what if I had been selfishly thinking
of keeping the book to myself? After all, I was the only girl in the department.
I deserved some leeway. Anyway, all my hopes of getting my GPA back up
were foiled now. I was flipping through the photocopied pages, when I
noticed that three out of the five core topics were missing. I pointed the
missing content to Silver
“That’s what we all have,” he said. “The book has been out of print for the
last five years.”
“No,” I refuted, “Champ said that there was a copy in the library.”
I smiled. I could still get my hands on the only complete copy and get my
‘A’. We dashed to the two storied library, adjacent to the Institute’s main
building, and asked for the book, but someone had already borrowed it. Too
late. Now what? So other people knew about this copy as well! My smile
disappeared. Now what was I to do? My chances of getting the GPA score
above board were gradually becoming dim and very close to eventually
becoming non existent.
“This someone has got to be a day scholar,” said Silver, wearing his
detective cap. “It’s impossible to conceal any sweets from the hostel ants.
“We have ten day scholars in Elec. It could be any of them,” I said
dejected.
“You can come and check again,” suggested Silver. “The book should be
back in three days.”
He was right. One could only keep a library book for a maximum of three
days. But still it was true that others already knew about it and in relative
grading that meant ‘C’.
The semester sped past quicker than I had thought or maybe I was too busy
with studies and the activities. With Divya gone, Puja going steady with
Rahul, I getting close to Champ, and Charu ensconced with her books, the
gang of girls seemed to have gone cold of late. It was late October, and
everyone was enjoying the festive season in Delhi, when one evening I found
myself sitting at a table with a six member House Honors Committee (HHC),
accused of violating hostel rules and facing an expulsion from IIT.
“What were you doing in the boy’s hostel after eleven pm?” A senior
Professor, sporting a salt and pepper stubble, inquired.
“We were shooting a video for the freshers’ orientation.” I mumbled the
rehearsed lines.
“Don’t we already have one?” he asked
“Captured over two decades ago, it has become outdated, Sir.” I repeated
verbatim from the cheat sheet imprinted in my mind.
“And if I may ask, why did it require midnight moonlight?”
“So we could eliminate the background noise, sir.” I tendered the
explanation that eight of us had brainstormed together.
“Did you take permission?”
 “We had permission for the Badminton court, but unable to locate the keys,
we had shifted to Kumaon lawns.” This was Champs brainwave.
“But the video clipping doesn’t feature you?” challenged the Assistant
Registrar.
Luckily Commode had caught this aspect during the mock drill. I looked
into his piercing eyes and said, “It is important that the viewer engages with
the model, and Puja was our best bet,” speaking neither too slowly too fast.
We had been practicing dialogue delivery for last thirty six hours, ever since
our innocuous, jovial outing had transformed into a horrendous disaster no
less than a nightmare. The assistant registrar seemed to buy the marketing
logic. In reality, one of the guys had borrowed Sukhi’s camcorder, a luxury
gadget in those days, to capture the IIT memories for his personal collection,
and while we played Pictionary, he had video recorded the game or should I
say focused on Puja for the most part.
“How did you go to Kumaon?” The question seemed irrelevant. Girls went
to the boys’ hostel for events all the time. It was not like we had traveled
overseas, but Mrs. Kashyap, our warden, could not possibly conjure up
anything consequential to ask.
“By car” I replied honestly wondering where the question was leading.
“Whose car?” she pursued her line of interrogation, expecting to uncover a
loophole.
I uttered the name of the guy who had driven us to the venue.
As soon as she heard the business magnate’s surname, she said
incriminatingly “Would you accompany anyone who calls?”
Before I could defend myself, Kumaon s warden fired a volley of
accusations.
“How were you sitting? Did he touch you at any time? How long did he
hold your hand?”
I was aghast at the Prof’s uncouth interrogation, especially as the only real
charge against us was that we were out of the hostel, that too after the
stipulated time limit, and for a non academic motive.
“Being the Kailash sports secretary, and a member of the committee that
lays down the norms of behavior suitable for different situations, I assume
you are conversant with the consequences of concealing the truth?” The
Dean’s polite warning felt like a cool breeze after all the dire sounding
allegations.
I nodded my head in affirmation.
 “You could be a perfect candidate for the Directors Gold Medal,” indicated
the Dean, divulging his unexpected trump card. “We would even overlook the
shortfall in your GPA as a special case,” he offered.
DGM! The Dean of Student Affairs himself believed I had a chance. The
bait was extremely alluring and I was about to succumb, when I remembered
there were six other careers at stake too. I wanted to but I couldn’t betray the
rest, not even for the Gold Medal.
“I am sure you will still find me eligible for the medal.” I spoke with all
the confidence I could muster and I think I sounded convincing enough.
“You may leave then and send in your friend Puja on your way out.
I came out, feeling drained and looking pale, like I had been combating a
group of bloodsucking vampires.
One by one, all eight of us were grilled by the jury in a similar manner. We
were put through the grind and it tested our nerves and our solidarity but we
all braved it courageously and weathered the storm. Finally they bought our
story, and dismissed us with strong verbal threats, but the humiliation, fear,
and stress I underwent during those two days is something I just would not
wish upon my enemies! Yet no one knew who the traitor was. Who had ratted
to the hostel warden about us? Puja thought it was Sukhi avenging himself
against her, but I could not envision him trampling Champ and his hostel
mates in the process. The attack had been unsuccessful for I had escaped
unscathed…maybe not totally unscathed, but I was now stuck with hard to
erase publicity that would forever be part of my records and hostel life.
Whoever had been behind the attack had definitely contributed to my fame or
should I say notoriety?
For the next month, Champ and I agreed to restrict our juice intake to once
a week, and that too during broad daylight to prevent any further recurrence
of such incidents. I caged myself inside my room, venturing out only for the
classes or to visit the library, to try and get hold of the microprocessor
reference book but this was a bid without any success.
A week after the final exams, I went to check my grades. I walked past ten
or so rooms before I saw the huge crowd, in front of the micro processor lab,
where the grades had been put up. The crowd amazingly gave way as I
arrived, somewhat like the parting of the Red sea for Moses in the Ten
Commandments. I browsed the grade sheet, and noticed I had a ‘B’. I
continued to look down the list, till I spotted the two ‘As’, standing out
proudly amongst the other alphabets. They belonged to the former DR 6 and
DR 7 who had now notched up a couple of ranks. I could cross-check with the
library roster, but it was clear that they had colluded to keep the book out of
reach from the rest of the class. For once, I was not the only one suffering and
I felt somewhat satisfied.
I limped back languidly to my hostel. This system had taken away
Professor Dutta’s life and it had taken away Divya, but I was not going to let
it take the Gold Medal from me. I was down but not out. I was a fighter and
my best was yet to come.
 A changed person

“I t’s so good to have you back”, I said popping into Divya’s room after
one whole semester had passed.
“Same here,” she said, but it did not escape me that her usual chirpiness
was missing. That the sprightly Divya would possibly never come back was
something we were preparing ourselves for.
“Maybe we can revive the Dumb C team?” I suggested in an effort to raise
her spirits.
Her eyes shone as the mention of Dumb C brought back happy memories,
and then became dull again as the mirthful past was just that, the past now.
“No scope. I am taking eight courses this semester. I will cover up for the
residual credits over the summers. Would be no fun to stick around for
another term without you guys”, she said in a tired tone.
Feeling responsible for her mishap, I regretted not having warned her
beforehand. I knew it was bootless remorse, but I had to get the guilt out of
my system.
“You did forewarn me from falling into the trap, yet even if I had known he
would do what he did, I suspect I wouldn’t have done anything. Do you
estrange a friend because he is going to die?”
It was quite true but I was still feeling guilty. It was commendable how
easily she had pardoned Saurabh, or was this the only way she could
exonerate herself?
“The only gripe I have is he didn’t consider me worthy enough to see me in
person”, admitted Divya. That he was a coward was left unsaid for who else
would attack from behind one’s back?
I had never asked what had actually happened that fateful Monday when
she went to Ahmedabad to seek clarification. Now I would not need to. If
Divya was ready to forgive and forget and move on, who was I to hold her
back? But she wanted to share the moment with me, perhaps to get it out of
her system once and for all.
“Saurabh was in his friend’s room next door, when I landed. He witnessed
me break into his den, and held back, waiting for me to leave, but when I
didn’t budge for hours, he sent across a message. It read, ‘Our friendship is
over. I cannot face you or meet you. Please do not contact me again.’”
“Chicken.” What a worthless guy! I just couldn’t help muttering it under
my breath.
“He never claimed to be a man,” she said, smiling for the first time.
 A kiss nearly missed

D ays passed by swiftly, short as they were in the winters anyway, and the
long awaited, ever so special evening arrived. Yet another V Day and this
time I was in a comparatively favourable position.
“What are you wearing tonight?” asked Charu, perched on my study chair,
drafting a research essay.
“My rainbow colored, irregular hemline skirt with a black top.” I had over
an hour before Champ came in a friend’s car, but the groundwork had begun.
“What are you planning to do?” I asked Charu mechanically, to keep the
butterflies at bay.
“Sukhi is taking me out for an ice cream”, she disclosed casually.
Needless to say I was stumped. I wasn’t expecting any response, least of all
this. I had half thought she would spend V Day closeted with her books but
this seemed a welcome break from the routine. “When did he ask? Where are
you going? What are you wearing?” I grilled her for the details.
“He asked this morning, no clue where we will go, and I am yet to decide
the outfit,” she replied sequentially, as casually as possible.
“Are you serious about Sukhi?” They were both rich. Who knows? It may
click, I pondered over the scenario and its possibilities.
“You know me better than that,” said Charu, dousing my hopes in cold
water.
I was amazed. This was the same girl who was ready to enter matrimony
blind folded two years ago. Today she was going out on a Valentine date with
a guy she didn’t intend to marry.
“Seeing suitors can be a useful training ground for casual dates.” Reading
my puzzled expression, she gave a cryptic explanation and returned to her
graphs. Through her stay at IIT, all Charu had done was study, study, and
more study. It was clear that her aim was to become world famous for
chemical bonds, not get chained down in an emotional one.
“Did you meet any more prospective grooms this winter?” I asked, amused
by her unconventional practice sessions.
 “No. Grandpa wasn’t all that well.”
“Something serious?” I noticed softness in Charu’s eyes the mention of her
grandfather.
“Nothing his strong will can’t handle.”
“You seem concerned?” I probed.
“It’s just that I realized that his suffocating autocracy is powered by his
love for me,” explained Cham.
“That’s weird, he loves you yet he will not see life your way?” I asked.
“It is because he loves me, that he wants me to lead my life his way,” she
replied.
“Don’t you think it is a bit convoluted?”
“Love always is,” she said with a mature smile. Now why didn’t I think of
that?
Agreeing with her last statement, I looked at the clock, and briskly started
to untie the rollers from my hair.
At seven sharp, Champ breathed into the mike announcing his arrival in
the lobby and I was ready. On my way out, I saw the lights aglow in Divya’s
room. It was distressing that the girl, who had gone out for coffee dates even
during our ragging was slogging now because of a faint hearted, creep of an
asshole. I had crossed the corridor when Champs call reverberated in the
quadrangle, and I rushed down the stairs, nearly crashing into him.
“Did do you something to your eyes?” He asked off handedly, as my face
landed inches away from his.
I had been hoping that, like other boys, he wouldn’t notice my trimmed
eyebrows. I was wrong! I had them shaped last evening on Puja’s insistence,
and it had hurt so badly that I had vowed never to get them done again.
“I overslept last night”, I fabricated at a loss for words and picking the first
excuse that came to mind, even as we walked to the parking lot.
On the way I saw Commode, carrying a bouquet of yellow roses in one
hand and a cigarette in another. Some things never change. Thank God for
friends! I smiled at him, for standing by Divya in her tough times, and got
into the car Champ had borrowed from & friend especially for tonight.
“Where are we going?” I asked, ensconced in the front seat of the Maruti
800, as he revved up the engine.
“It’s a surprise”, he beamed, holding the back of my seat to reverse the car.
Although his hand was pressing the seat’s foam, its thrust on my back spurred
a ripple of pleasure through my spine.
We drove for almost half an hour, and for the most part we let the music do
the talking. It was not like we were alone for the first time, though it was our
first time in a car, but we were both experiencing something close to stage
fright and I could sense it. It was like I was awaiting the show and he was
planning it. When he finally halted, I realized we had reached India Gate. He
couldn’t have chosen a more monumental place for our first V date.
As we walked the historic Rajpath, bathed in the yellow street lights, he
spoke softly, embellishing every word before it left his mouth,
“Your hair is Rapunzel’s delight,
Shining like silk strands in twilight,
Caressing your face ever so gently,
Like waves romancing the moon light.”
No one had ever made me feel so special so eloquently, let alone my hair!
Mesmerized by the well rehearsed poetry, I was on cloud nine, when he
interrupted.
“I have something to tell you,” he said, his gaze fixed on the shadows
dancing on my face.
I looked at the reflection of my face in his eyes and waited.
“As a child, I always hungered for the toys and clothes my cousins in the
States had, and that longing translated into a dream. With my parents’ meager
government salaries, it was very dear that if I were to ever go abroad, it would
have to be on my own. So when I cruised through IIT, I was thrilled to be on
the highway that cuts across the seven seas. Today, after all those years of
wanting, I have finally got the key to break my shackles but I am surprised
that I am not as thrilled.”
“You got a scholarship but it’s not from Berkeley?” I asked, trying to
establish the reason for his disappointment.
“It is from Berkeley all right, but that’s not important. You are important.”
He wasn’t vexed, only pensive, preoccupied with setting the mood for the
climax.
I cannot deny that I was touched by the superlative distinction bestowed
upon me.
“I can’t afford to lose you, Tanu,” he said gloomily.
 Little did he know that the only way to gain me was to risk losing me in
the first place, according to Puja’s theory.
And as we approached the Amar Jawan Jyoti, he delicately took both my
hands in his and confessed his love.
I stood motionless, like a statue, searching his eyes to scale the depths of
his love, to gauge if it would survive the impending separation.
“What will happen to us once you leave for the States?” I side stepped the
bridge I was not ready to cross.
He seemed not to mind the slight diversion, for he had been bracing
himself for a skid.
“Fly over next year. It should be a smooth sailing with your GPA.” He
seemed to have planned it all out. How easy it was for him to say these
words! All decisions had been made without even asking me what I wanted.
“I do want to be with you, but I am not sure if further studies are my
calling.”
“You are not planning to divorce me like your dear friend did my chum,
are you?” Now there he was with his insecurities.
“Not for any Tom, Dick, or Harry,” I teased playfully. Sometimes it gives
you a high to see your partner crave for you.
it gives you a high to see your partner crave for you.
“Then I shall father your children for there is no other Champ.” He boasted
arrogantly, and a shy smile spread across my face at the underlying
implication.
We continued to walk along the footpath hand in hand.
“Do your parents know?” I asked casually.
“I think they do”, he replied.
“They must be feeling super proud,” I said.
“I am not so sure about that,” he said half teasingly, “They trust my choice,
but they haven’t even met you.”
That was not what I was referring to, but I was perturbed to learn that his
parents knew about us.
“I haven’t told them anything, but they can sense I am in love. I wouldn’t
learn to crochet and bake for anyone,” he quickly offered reprieve.
“And what about your fellowship from Berkeley?” I asked what I had
originally intended to.
“When I got through IIT, it freaked them enough. This will give them a
heart attack,” he chuckled imagining their reactions.
“But I thought you always excelled?”
“Only when I wanted,” he replied with a humility, which was paradoxically
on the verge of arrogance.
“Isn’t it a great feeling when you do something the world doesn’t expect
from you?” I asked abstractly.
“Well, I can think of lots of such things that the world doesn’t expect from
you,” he ribbed, his smile contagious.
I returned his mischievous look, being able to unwind with him fearlessly.
“To start with, nobody expects an ‘F’ grade from you.” He was being nice
on purpose.
“What else?” I egged him.
“Whistle at guys?”
I let out a soft whistle and dared him for more.
“Become Miss India?”
“Hi! Its Sanjana … got another Pepsi.” I did an imitation of Aishwarya Rai
from the latest ads.
He gave me a naughty smile, and put his hands around my neck.
“Now it’s your turn”, I asked, to divert attention from the tingling sensation
his playful fingers were causing on my bare neck.
“Lose a squash match, cry when I am hurt, apply makeup, go on a diet…
its a long list,” he said.
“Go steady with a simple looking girl like me?” I voiced my insecurity,
having always felt that he was too good to go out with me.
“Not having kissed her yet,” he whispered into my ears, his face inches
away from mine.
As he closed in, our lips brushed and I shivered in delight. I was about to
open my lips in response, when suddenly he withdrew.
“I am sorry Tanu. I care too much for you to make you go through the guilt
later,” he said letting go of his grip around my waist.
Thanks, was all I could muster at that moment. Was it disappointment that
washed over me or was it relief?
Back in my room, well before the stipulated deadline, I kept rewinding the
conversation in my mind, to explore the other possible manners in which it
could have ended. Someone had rightly said that ‘Imagination can be more
potent than the actual act’. And with that echoing in my mind, I called it a
day.
 Revenge, death, and a close shave

“H ave you filed the nomination for House Secy?” asked Piya, catching
me alone in the common room.
I nodded my head in affirmation wondering what she was trying to tell me.
“DD is instigating another girl to contest against you”, said Piya. So the cat
was out of the bag. DD was definitely bent on extracting her pound of flesh
and this was the way she wanted to do it.
“Why should she?” I asked, though I knew DD had been initially upset
when Champ and I had got together; but she had made amends soon
thereafter. She had even sympathized with me and Puja, during the Pictionary
fiasco over the unfairness of the administrative system.
“She is telling people that you can no longer handle hostel affairs,”
informed Piya.
“But it was her idea in the first place that I become the House Secy,” I said,
recollecting the evening more than a year ago when DD had announced me
her successor.
“Let’s say she has switched sides,” explained Piya.
“I will talk to her,” I assured Piya confidently.
“Listen to me. Don’t,” advised Piya.
“She is a close friend of yours. Why are you counseling me against her?” I
was unable to comprehend Piya’s warning.
“Because I discovered that she was the one who had ratted to the warden
about Pictionary and landed you in a soup”, disclosed Piya.
It was common knowledge that DD was hot tempered and selfish, but this
was way too mean and downright hostile. “But you told me she was over
Champ,” I argued unconvinced.
“That was not the only time I misread her”, said Piya glumly.
“I can fathom someone conspiring in emotional rivalry, but what has she
got to gain by my loss in hostel elections?” I was still perplexed.
“DD has been toiling for the DGM for four years, but her CGPA has fallen
short of the prerequisite”, explained Piya.
 “So it is a case of misery seeking company,” I said. “DD doesn’t want to
let me have what she couldn’t.” Now that was easy to decipher but DD’s
meanness and backstabbing had no parallel.
“Just wanted to give you a heads up, though I am positive of your ultimate
triumph,” encouraged Piya. “You are the most deserving and popular among
all undergrads.” With an open declaration of her vote, Piya left.
Next evening, when I met Divya outside the common room, she was all
agitated.
“Did you look at the House Secy candidate list?” she asked impatiently.
I told her to calm down and filled her on my dialogue with Piya
“Piya is damn right”, cursed Divya. “DD knew no other B.Tech girl had a
chance against you, so she planted an M.Tech girl.”
It was heartwarming to see Divya passionate about something, besides
studies, alter all this while. It certainly looked like the old Diwa was back
among us.
She misunderstood my smile to be complacence, and questioned,
“How many under grads are there in all?”
“There are 15 in the first year, 13 in the second year, 12 in our batch, and
10 in DDs batch. That makes it 50.” I did the simple Math.
“M.Techs and Phds combined can easily beat us,” said Divya in a huff.
“DD is playing pure numbers politics.” It did not take me too long to deduce
this either.
“So the fattest and not the fittest will survive this battle?” I concluded.
“Stop patronizing Darwin, you ought to build inroads into the post grad
wing ASAP. Employ Charu, she would go well with scholarly crowd,” tipped
Divya sounding like a master politician herself.
“Maybe you should contest in my place; you are much better at this game,”
I suggested, not enjoying the ugly situation I found myself in.
“And you are gentle, hardworking, and fun loving. You are Puja, Charu,
and me, all packed in one, so go there and get her, girl,” commended Divya.
“Besides, it is your goal.”
“Whatever the pro says,” I acquiesced.
Couple of days later, I was seeking Charu when I found her sitting shell
shocked in the mess.
 “What happened? You look anemic? I asked.
“Remember my date with Sukhi?”
“Of course, you went out with him for Valentines, only two months back.
Did he propose or what?” I asked.
“Actually we never did go out.” Charus voice was feeble.
“I am sorry,” I said. Absorbed in my own pursuits, I had failed to stop by
the girl next door and ask what had happened. Maybe Charu had developed a
liking for Sukhi and he had declined. That would explain her sallow eyes.
I was about to extend my sympathies when she said, “You know how
careless Sukhi has been ever since Puja deserted him.”
I nodded, recollecting how he had gone and sat inside a dustbin in the
Institute during Rendezvous, and had kept crying that he was useless. The
rumor was that he was consuming too much cough syrup and was always
drugged. Reactions from Sukhi seemed to be pretty extreme of late.
“On Valentines day when we were supposed to go out, he was wandering
around carelessly and got bitten by a stray dog,” she said.
“I have heard those injections are extremely painful,” I commiserated
“Well, he never took the injections, and now he has rabies,” said Charu
dolefully. Champ was on his way to the hospital when he met me and asked
me to inform you.”
I had met Champ before lunch and he had said nothing at the time. This
must be a recent development. “Sukhi will be fine, right?” I asked hesitantly,
for it seemed otherwise from Charus bloodless face.
“I don’t know. His mom told Champ that he was getting violent’ and
hydrophobic, which indicates that the virus has already reached and perhaps
attacked his central nervous system. Apparently there are only six known
cases of a person surviving symptomatic rabies.” Charu was almost weeping
now. I could barely control my tears at the situation. What a mess!
This was terrible news; it was the first time that a person my age, so close
to me was going to blink out of existence for no good reason. It could have
been any one of us, even me or Champ. I was mourning with Charu, when
Puja dragged herself to our table.
“Have you heard the news yet?” asked Puja looking at two woebegone
faces in front of her.
“Which one? The M.Tech candidate or Rabies?” I asked. The two were not
comparable in gravity, but they occupied roughly the same mindshare in my
wretched head.
“Rahul overheard rotten rumors about you doing the rounds in his research
lab like the time you were caught in a boys hostel room,” said Puja.
Shoulders drooping, I let my head fall to a side and exhaled a sigh. First
DD’s devilry, then Sukhi s deadly dog bite, and now the false stories…well, it
was someone working hard, better still working overtime on character
assassination alright. My character assassination at that! Things were looking
grim and I took a few deep breaths to steady myself and think things through.
I left the two girls to share their grief and headed to the backyard for I still
had votes to amass and an election to win.
The following evening, when I saw Champ, outside the hostel, waiting for
me in a white kurta pyjama, his face unshaven and his hair disheveled, I knew
Sukhi was no more. Without saying a word, I reached for his hand, and we
walked out of the campus. Climbing the Aravali Hills, rowing a pedal boat,
and sitting in the midst of the tranquil ambience of the Badhkal Lake, seemed
a big help to lift the darkness that enveloped us. He was feeling a lot more
calm when he dropped me back.
“There was a call from your home,” someone informed me as I meandered
across the quadrangle.
The external phone was unoccupied, which was a rarity at Kailash, so I
decided to return the call right away.
“Hello, Mummy, you had called?” I said as I heard my mothers voice.
“It’s me Tanu, your aunt.”
“Namaste Mausiji.” I greeted chirpily. It is amazing how same sex siblings
sound alike, especially over the wire.
“Beta, your father suffered a heart attack.” Her melancholy voice was in
stark contrast to my vivaciousness.
The phone slipped from my hand, and I nearly fainted. Heart attack? Well,
this day was going from bad to worse. Where would it end? Champ saw me
through the window pane and dashed inside. Balancing the hanging phone in
one hand and holding me in the other, he noted down the hospital details. All
I remember is the knot in my stomach, the cold sweat on my forehead, and the
goose bumps on my arms, as I spent the next twenty minutes, hoping for the
best and fearing the worst.
I met my mom outside the OT, her eyes sunken and her voice dull, she
looked relatively composed and in control of the situation. It gave me, and
perhaps my father, hope. She told me how Papa had felt pain in his right hand,
post lunch, and the ECG at a local clinic had revealed cardiac disturbances.
“Pain in the right hand? So it’s not a heart attack.” I cursed my aunts
inability to appreciate the difference between the two.
“It is indicative of Angina pain, a milder form of an attack. The doctors are
conducting an angiography to assess the artery blockage. Don’t worry, he will
recover,” she said reassuringly.
I had never seen my mother in this avatar; she had always seemed the
weaker half in our family always getting scolded by my father for silly
mistakes and just plain ignorance. But I guess it was her time to take stock of
the situation and prove her mettle to the world.
She caught sight of a red T shirt clad youngster perched in the far corner,
but said nothing. I hadn’t told my folks about Champ and although my
parents were not die hard champions of romance, they had been supportive of
my friendly association with members of the opposite sex.
After a while, when the doctors took my mom aside for discussions, I
excused myself from the hordes of relatives to visit the washroom. Champ
was stationed at the other end, all by himself. He had been killing time for
over two hours.
“Can you please inform the girls that I will be staying here tonight?” I said.
“I can stay back if you want,” he offered.
“No way! Ours is a very conservative family.” I refused, already sensing a
dozen eyes boring into me from over a distance of twenty feet. “Also tell
Divya to withdraw my candidature.”
“You will let DD get away with all that she has done?” He was well aware
that I had been aiming at the Gold Medal for three years and had slogged my
backside off for it.
“The elections are tomorrow and there is no way I want to leave my Mom
alone at this hour,” I said firmly. “My parents have given me the vision to
dream. I have no dearth of dreams, but I have only one Mom and Dad.” Now
that I had reasoned things out, I knew where my priorities lay. And nothing
not, even DD or the gold medal could take this away from me.
“But you can contest remotely too, physical presence is not necessary.” He
insisted for my sake looking at me with imploring eyes.
“My emotional reserves are over stretched at the moment,” I declined
politely. As it is, the hideousness of it all was beginning to make my skin
crawl.
 “Love you Tanu, more with each passing day”, he murmured, as each one
of my twenty relatives attempted to lip read our conversation
“Love you too”, I avowed without any hesitation. I did not have the
foggiest notion of what I said, how I said it or why I said it then. I had least
expected to profess my love under such grave circumstances, but perhaps it is
at these times that one realizes that life is too short to waste on meaningless
musings.
Caressing me with the softness in his eyes, he left the emergency ward
with a victorious smile on his face.
Just as I was returning from affirming one bond, Mummy came out and
updated us that Papa needed an angioplasty as one of his main arteries was
terribly blocked. Despite the doctors’ assurance that it was a routine
operation, I thought of all the things… the gravest possibilities at that, and
about how I would miss him at my graduation, my first day at work, my first
salary, my promotions, my wedding, my pregnancy, my kid’s birthdays, and
so on if he did not recover properly. Finally, after four excruciating hours, I
was permitted to go in to the recovery room and see my Dad. He was
sleeping; his left leg blue due to the injected contrast dye, and his face frail;
but his heart was pumping strongly.
Calamities in life often tend to occur simultaneously, and so while my
father was recuperating, the Majors gate crashed without as much as a
warning or a knock. I have no idea how I took the exams amidst everything.
For once, they didn’t matter as much. I had already lost the House Secretary
post. The DGM was history now.
 The summer of ‘94

“H ow is your father now?” Champ asked popping fresh chewing gum in

his mouth.
“Papa is recovering physically, but the emotional creases will take time to
iron out,” I said. “The fact that he was a teetotaler, a non smoker, and a
regular yoga enthusiast is not making it any smoother.”
Champ had called at my industrial training office, in the afternoon, seeking
an immediate meeting. He was visiting Delhi for his US visa appointment. I
had been reluctant, as Papa had been recently discharged, but the past
fortnight had been pretty nerve wracking, and I was aching for some personal
time with him. I had told Mummy that I needed to unwind, and would be
staying with Divya for the night. Surprisingly she had consented.
“Do you like your training?” He asked offhandedly.
“Nothing to make me want to get out of the bed for, but I manage to
practice the GRE wordlist.” I replied lackadaisically.
Neither of us volunteered to broach the US issue weighing on our minds.
We were playing the ‘first you, then I’ game, when Divya broke the stillness.
“Hey guys, I managed to not only clear all my subjects, my GPA has
improved by a small fraction”, she informed us cheerfully, a well deserved
smile in place after a semester’s hard and virtually back breaking labor.
We both extended our sincerest wishes on her revival, happy that she was
bouncing back to her normal form and then resumed our time out exercise.
Unlike other couples, we could usually make a third person feel welcome in
our company, but today we both had encased ourselves, separately, within
impregnable walls. Taking a cue from the awkwardness filling the space
between us, Divya vanished as suddenly as she had come into the guest
lounge.
“So what was the pressing matter?” I finally took the plunge out of
desperation.
“Can’t tell you here. Lets go for a walk towards the courts”, he answered,
absorbed in his thoughts.
We knocked about aimlessly to push the decisive moment a little further. It
was 10 pm by the time we arrived at the deserted baski courts. We sat on a
step, facing each other, our knees making contact, largely shrouded by the
low, brick wall. He gazed at the sky above, while I surveyed his appearance.
When his poker face revealed nothing, I shifted my attention on the leaves of
the nearest tree; I was in a deep conversation with nature, when I felt a rose
petal on my lips. At first, I felt my body become tense in anticipation, but as
he released the petal and gently laid his lips on mine, the stiffness gave way to
sheer pleasure.
I teased him by not letting his tongue inside my mouth but when he ran a
finger gingerly down from my lips to my cleavage and left it there, I
responded to his challenge. I slid my tongue into his mouth and soon our
tongues were caressing each other’s lips with passion. I had read graphic
descriptions of intimate scenes, but this was the first time I was experiencing
a live act. When our lips parted briefly, I realized that my eyes were still
closed, and the curtains were still drawn against the distractions of the outside
world.
A short break to catch our breath and we were back at exploring each
other’s tongues, this time with renewed passion and fervor. We kissed and
kissed, each time experimenting with varying pressure, depth, intensity,
frequency, and thrust. Gradually, as our longings overtook love, our kissing
became hot with physical lust, and our bodies arched craving for more. Yet I
was glad when he retreated, before it was too late, for I couldn’t have.
And then suddenly he went down on his knees, pulled out a red rose from
somewhere, looked into my eyes, and said, “Three years ago a girl proposed
to me and refused to take a no for an answer. I am not sure if she meant it, but
I promised I would marry her once I came of age. Tonight, I ask if she will
honor the proposal.”
I stopped breathing and froze in my tracks. Then instead of responding
with a “Yes I will,” I asked “What’s the time?”
“1 a.m. on May 16th.” He replied, and forged ahead, “I have talked to my
parents and we have their blessings to get engaged.”
“Engaged? You mean formally betrothed?” I asked, “but I am still
studying.”
“Many people study after their marriage,” he answered.
“You know Papa is unwell.”
“It can be a small ceremony,” he suggested.
“But you are not even from my caste?”
 “How does that matter?” he asked.
“It matters to my father.” I had found out very late in the game that Champ
was not a baniya, and though he refrained from ordering non vegetarian food
in my company, I knew my father would need a lot of convincing. In any
case, this was not the right time to put any pressure on him or his recuperating
heart.
“You have to tell him some time or the other,” said Champ.
“What’s the hurry? You know I love you, then why rush into an
engagement.” Here, he was a typical guy forever ready to rush into things
without thinking or planning about how best to execute it and at what time.
“It’s just that I am not a big fan of long distance relationships, having seen
so many breakups.” He confessed.
“Are you afraid that I will find someone else here or you want to prevent
yourself from running after the long, fair legs in the bay area?” I said a bit
irritated, as he was ruining the extra special landmark of our first kiss.
“You do intend to marry me, don’t you?” He asked seriously, not prepared
for a parley.
“Yes, but at the right time. I want to be somebody, before I become
somebody’s wife.” Now I had my ambitions too and if he thought I would let
go of them just when I was so close to realizing them, he had another thing
coming. I was aware that Sukhi s death had shaken him, and he
subconsciously held Puja responsible for Sukhi’s carelessness in not taking
the injections, but I was unprepared to sacrifice my dreams for his fear.
I saw him get up and followed him. We trudged back to our isolated
worlds, far removed from the ardor that had possessed us moments ago.
When we were hundred yards away from the hostel gate, he halted and let me
go. I went in, signed computer center in the late night out roster peeped from
the window at his fading silhouette, and when I could see him no longer I
went up to Divya’s room. One look at my pout, and Divya knew.
“He is scared,” said Divya.
“So am I”, I said fidgeting with my hair.
“It’s only a band of gold,” she said, putting her arm around my shoulder.
“That band of gold can choke our love and crush our dreams,” I argued.
“Can you afford to lose him?” Divya put it bluntly, making no effort to
soften her words.
“I can t afford to lose myself either.”
 “You have to give something to get something,” she parroted an adage.
“You have to be happy to give happiness,” I stated my motto.
“Bidirectional love is a rarity,” she pushed.
“If it is indeed bidirectional, then I have nothing to fear,” I countered.
“Are you committed?” she asked.
“More than him,” I answered.
“Then ask him to keep his shirt on for a little longer,” she smiled.
“Thanks Divya,” I said, taking her hands into mind, “I know you would
have waited had Saurabh asked, and I will, even if he doesn’t.”
Was I mad, crazy, stupid, or an idiot? Maybe all of the above, but for once
I was fighting rather than escaping.
For the next few weeks, I hovered around the office phone, waiting for it to
buzz, but it seemed to be brooding in silence. More than once, I dialed
Champs home number and then disconnected. How was I supposed to
convince him that my word was stronger and more binding than a gold ring?
The evening after my GRE exam, Champ left a message for me with Divya.
He was around for his Convocation, and wanted to take me out for dinner.
We met outside the IIT main gate and drove to Connaught Place in a
borrowed car. I was nervous, but it felt good to pretend everything was
normal. Rather it was prudent to keep up with the pretence. After all we did
love each other as much as a month ago, when he had proposed.
Walking hand in hand, along the inner circle, my tongue was still relishing
the taste of the delectable five course meal we had just had at an expensive
Mughlai restaurant. And yes, I was getting used to the stares of the people
around us. It was so evident by now that we looked great together and so were
attracting a fair share of curious glances.
I tilted my head, to rest it on his shoulder, and whispered, “Thanks for the
wonderful dinner.”
We both knew I was being polite, because the truth was that although the
dinner had been sumptuous and a welcome change and we had dressed the
part, the evening had been anything but wonderful. We had not really been
our true selves. Champ, usually lively and mischievous, had been buttoned up
and dull, and I hadn’t been any better. We had kept up the pretence of
everything being fine, had talked about everything under the sun and yet
nothing of consequence had been brought up for fear that the evening would
get ruined, and now we were on mute mode.
 “So,” I said breaking the ice, “we haven’t talked about the big question.”
“You mean the big answer,” he snapped quickly. “Glad you finally brought
it up.”
“I didn’t bring anything up; it’s been looming large over us like storm
clouds all evening and someone had to bring it up.”
He let go of my hand, and I stiffened automatically getting set for an ugly
showdown, bracing myself for yet another argument.
“Won’t you be lonesome without me once I leave for the US i.e. if we are
still together?”
“I thought you just proposed to me, and now you are considering a
breakup?”
“I am asking what happens if you are here and I am in the States. Won’t
that be hard?”
“I have the gang of girls, my family, and Silver is there too.” Champ knew
Silver had expressed interest in me, and we were still good friends. In fact I
was doing my industrial training with him.
“It is all about Silver then, isn’t it?”
He was still getting the wrong message. When would this guy understand
that all I cared about was him. But common sense went for a toss as I rose to
the challenge.
“Only as much, as it is about your DU dame Rachna.” Champ was being
unnecessarily jealous and unfair.
“That is why I want us to tie the knot.” He said after careful thought.
“Because Rachna said no.” That had to be it. He was still acting on the
rebound and it seemed so awful.
“It has nothing to do with Rachna saying no. I care for you more than
myself and I don’t want any third meddler.”
“It sounds to me like you only care for yourself. Why else would you want
to put a chain around my neck?” I was beginning to lose patience with him
and his constant point about getting hitched. Why couldn’t he get the message
that marriage would need to be put on hold now? Why was it always about
him of late?
“I simply want to pledge myself to you,” he spoke earnestly.
“And I am ready to sign with my blood; all I am opposed to is the public
announcement.”
 “Why the fear?” Champ attempted to persuade me one last time.
“Coz’ I have no fear. I trust myself to love you forever.” I was almost
shouting now.
“So do I,” reinforced Champ.
“Then why bring this up?” I asked
“Because you said no.”
I clenched my teeth in irritation. “I didn’t say no, I only said I needed to
think about it.”
“That means no.”
“Only in movies, not in real life.”
“But I want a Bollywood style ’they lived happily ever after’ ending.”
Champ face lit up with all that wishful thinking. One definitely needed a
reality check now.
“And I want to marry the right person at the right time.” I said
exasperatedly.
“Am I not the right person?” He held my hands in his, and searched my
eyes for an answer.
“You always were.” I said reassuringly, looking straight into his eyes. “But
I am trying to ascertain if this is the right time.”
That was the last time I met Champ that summer. He called me from the
airport just before leaving. We talked about this and that. I told him I loved
him and always would. He listened in silence and hung up after a while, Had I
lost him? For good? Why was I being so stubborn? Part of me wanted to
accept his wishes but the independent part of me was not ready to give up.
My romance with Champ was like a game of Texas hold ‘em poker. When
the initial cards are dealt, the person to the dealer’s left, posts a small blind.
My proposal to Champ during ragging was a similar call that I had taken, with
DD being the dealer. Over the next year and a half, our encounters were
incidental, like a forced, blind bid to stay in the game. The evening, by the
beach, at Inter IIT was the first face up card; it looked promising and yet left
me confused. I decided to ‘Check’, and encouraged by Piya, I continued
playing. His heart shaped cake was the second face up card. I raised the bid,
and we got closer. The last card to be opened was Saurabh’s treat at Nirulas.
At first, it seemed like I would have to pack up, but when Rachna left the
game at the Convo rooftop, I had the winner flush with a king of hearts. I
danced and kissed in celebration, but when he asked me for the final show,
despite all my hearts, I lost.
I truly loved him and he was so perfect, but perhaps, I loved my ambition
much more.
 War and peace

I t was the first day of our final year. I sat in the Mess, eating a burnt toast
and drinking the same sugary tea like I had done the past three years, when
the M.Tech House Secy stopped by.
“I know you are angry with me and rightly so, but I have a favor to ask of
you,” she said.
This girl had poured water over my three years of back breaking labour,
she had in collusion with DD destroyed my dream and now she had the
audacity to ask me for a favor. I simple stared at her in bewilderment.
“I have to drop this semester due to family reasons and the warden wants
me to nominate a successor,” she said.
She was speaking politely, but I kept looking away.
“I know you will look after hostel interests, perhaps better than me,” she
said.
“You seem to have changed your opinion about me since the elections,” I
taunted, remembering the mean rumors that had circled the hostel.
“Listen, that was war, this is peace. It would be best for everyone if you
accept the post,” she said calmly.
I was not convinced. I thought it was a new ploy against me. Maybe DD
was mastering it over the phone. “Why wouldn’t you choose someone from
the post graduates gang?” I asked cautiously.
“Lets just say I am casting my vote and not DD s this time,” she responded
genuinely trying to make amends.
As I said earlier, the best part about being broke is you have nothing more
to lose. We went to the hostel warden who gladly accepted my . nomination.
Then as she left, the M.Tech girl reported, “I heard from the grapevi ne that
DD was caught sneaking with a young Prof, at IIM.”
“Showing off her tits for some tat,” I guessed, and we both laughed. DD
was a defeated devil now, as far as I was concerned and a past I never wanted
to bring up or remember ever.
 The eligible bachelor paradox

K ailash had bagged the first rank in the inter hostel Dumb C last week, and
I was rounding up the girls for further practice, when Charu came in carrying
two identical envelopes in her hand. Now what was prompting this
excitement?
“I got it. I can’t believe it. I got a full fellowship from UCB,” she squealed,
her face glowing as she read out the details.
“Naturally you got it. Did you doubt it?” I was surprised at how she lacked
the confidence. She had topped her department, one that got the most
scholarships at IIT Delhi and here she was clutching the letter in surprise,
shock and amazement all rolled in one and incredulous look writ large on her
face.
“It’s just that when you dearly want something, you keep your fingers
crossed until you get it,” she defended her insecurity, but I knew the feeling. I
felt the same uncertainty about Champ even now and nothing had changed.
“By the way, this letter is for you,” she said as she passed the other
envelope to me, bearing the same stamp.
As I opened the letter, my heart skipped a beat. I had also been offered a
two year fellowship at Berkeley. Now that was something like a bolt from the
blue.
Within twenty four hours, everyone knew that Kailash had got two schools
from UCB, the first time ever in the hostel’s history and the celebrations were
just about to begin. While I joined the party, my heart kept nagging my mind
to reconsider the options. It kept telling me that the US was not my
destination; that life had more challenges in store for me, though I knew not
what at that point in time. I had two weeks to make up my mind, and Champ
had already called twice since the evening.
Four months ago when Champ had left, I had felt like I had lost all that
mattered. My Gold Medal dream was shattered and my love was gone too. In
desperation I had decided to apply to Berkeley. I had almost cried out with
joy, when Champ had called to express his delight at me aping his decision.
He had asked for forgiveness for imposing his insecurity on me and had
agreed to wait. Since then, we had been in touch through letters, and though I
pined for his physical presence, I had enjoyed the romantic recess and the
written expressions of his love.
One of the nights, during those two tumultuous weeks, I was staring at the
computer screen, thinking about what I was and what I wanted to achieve. I
felt like I was wading through a marsh, struggling to find a way out, but the
end was nowhere in sight. And then suddenly everything became crystal clear.
When I had got into IIT, I had proved to and convinced the whole city of my
desire to excel. For the last three years I had been gunning for the Directors
gold medal so that the whole of IIT would remember me…perhaps make me
famous for posterity. So the next logical step would have to be for the whole
of India to get to know me. My ambitions were steadily growing and knew no
bounds.
“I want to create something of my own”, I said excitedly. “I want to be an
entrepreneur.” I blurted out to no one in particular, thrilled at having
discovered my next goal.
“But I thought you loved Champ and were going to UCB.” Silver
reminded me, only too painfully. Even though I had never loved Silver, he
had never stopped loving me.
“I do, but do I have to tag along all the time to prove it?” I implored
helplessly.
“Why did you come to IIT?” Silver seemed to have gone on a tangential
track, but I didn’t mind the diversion. It felt good to be talking about the
successful past than worrying about the unknown future.
I narrated the story of my cousins wedding and my desire to surpass my
father that had inspired me to come here.
“Did you always know you would get through IIT?” Silver probed, delving
deeper and deeper into my JEE preparation struggle.
“I was better than my classmates, the coaching exams gave some
indication, and I had the confidence in myself. Yet, there was no way of
knowing how I would fare, among two lakh candidates, on D day.” I
answered honestly. “It had seemed like my entire life was going to be decided
by a fluke.”
u
And I came through an SC quota, so I had no way to ascertain my relative
ability,” concurred Silver drawing a parallel between my situation and his.
We were both silent and contemplative till Silver said, “What if you had a
tool to assess your knowledge and predict your All India Rank?”
“You mean like a mock exam that could predict ones approximate rank
across all the coaching centers,” I said, jumping with excitement.
 “There you go.” Silver banged the computer monitor so loudly, that people
turned around and started staring at us.
“What?” I asked, looking at his smiling face trying to understand the
hidden meaning. And then as I mulled over what I had just said,
I was amazed at how each limitation was nothing but an opportunity in
disguise.
“I have been toying with the idea to build an all India mock test service,”
Silver revealed.
“What? But I thought you wanted to take up a safe job.”
“Only till I can save some bucks for the big bang,” he admitted.
Somehow even a bleak tunnel brightens up when there are two heads rather
than one. I never knew Silver had an entrepreneurial streak. What a bit of
luck! Maybe this was the catalyst I was looking for. “What do you say; shall
we give it a shot?” I said, beginning to feel reinvigorated at the prospect of
starting a venture with him.
“I would say our best shot,” beamed Silver as happy as I at having got
someone who believed in the venture as much as he did.
Thus in the wee hours of the morning, sitting in the computer center,
ApproxAIR was conceived, and Silver and I graduated from lab partners to
business partners. Though we still needed to find a means to fund our
business we were overjoyed that we had kick started it.
A week later, I got the call I had been dreading. Champ must have received
my letter.
“Hi, how are you?” I asked sheepishly.
“Not too good,” he replied somberly.
Neither of us spoke for a few minutes, while the ISD call meter ticked.
“Why do you want to stay back?” He asked in a soft, concerned voice.
“I want to start my own business,” I replied firmly.
“You can always do that after a post grad degree,” he suggested.
“It will postpone everything by two years,” I said. “Moreover, the dollar
carrot is too alluring to ever break free and return.” I contradicted.
“You think I will not return?” He questioned calmly.
I said nothing but I had only seen people board a one way plane; rarely did
anyone fly the other way round.
 “What about us?” He asked poignantly.
This was the most difficult part, and I had been rehearsing it every day for
the last ten days. I could hear him drum his Angers on a table restlessly. There
was a risk, but it had to be taken. I told him we could tie the knot in a few
years, once ApproxAIR stabilized. I heard a thud as he put down the receiver
and the line went dead.
Another month passed by. Champ had neither called nor written to me. The
journey I had started so vehemently was beginning to feel lonely, almost a
drudge, already. I was sitting meditatively in Puja’s room, while she bubbled
with excitement.
“April 13th seems to be an auspicious day for the ceremony,” chirped Puja.
“I still find it absurd that you are getting engaged.” My discomfort was
evident from my expression.
“You make it sound like a crime. It’s not like I am underage or
uneducated.”
“But you could wait till the graduation?” I persisted, hoping that Puja
would change her mind.
“This is the marriage season, and our parents want us to get engaged before
we start living together in US,” she argued. Both Rahul and Puja had
managed to secure scholarships from the same university where they had
gone for the exchange program.
“Sounds like the end of season sale. Why wait for the need to rise? Stock
while the discount is on.” I countered.
Puja laughed, finding my analogy amusing rather than abusive.
“What about your identity?” Having turned down Champ’s proposal, I was
finding it hard to swallow that my very own best friend had agreed to walk
down the aisle. Was I jealous or simply discomfited?
“We will all be IIT pass outs soon,” she said, ‘emphasizing on IIT. “How
much more branding does a girl need? Besides, I don’t think wearing a ring
will dilute my identity.”
Puja seemed hell bent on her expedition, and I equally determined to save
her. “Don’t you want to bring your first salary to your parents instead of your
husband?” I argued.
“I do and I will, but unlike you my future plans are not entirely career
oriented,” Puja disputed. She had her head and her heart in place. Now why
couldn’t I be just like that? Why were both my emotional and my rational self
always at loggerheads?
Puja’s statement got me ruminating over the different weights each of us
assigned to our careers and the loves in our lives. Although Puja seemed to
believe in equitable distribution, things were not so obvious or rendered
plainly in black and white for me. I wanted to focus on my career at the
moment, and yet I loved Champ with all my heart. Was I being too ambitious?
Maybe I should get married to him after graduation? I would definitely give
this some thought and maybe approach him with the idea.
I was musing over the why’s and the what’s, when Puja switched the
subject, “Should I wear a pink or a peach lehenga?”
“Peach,” I volunteered.
“Pink,” opined Divya, who had been quietly listening to our discussion so
far. As I had expected, she had sailed through all four IIMs, the CAT exam
had been a breeze and she was all set to become a management guru shortly.
“Oh! This is so confusing. I think I will wear a magenta one,” decided
Puja. “Should I leave my hair open or knot into a bun?” Puja was obsessed
with the event, and she made sure we spent the next hour discussing her
hairdo and accessories.
While I struggled with Champs disappointment at my deferring of
admission into the UCB, Charu was having trouble back home convincing her
family to send her an acceptance letter. Amidst all the drama, arrived Puja’s
engagement. Puja looked stunningly beautiful, in magenta and gold lehenga,
and although she was constantly being pushed from one relative to another,
touching their feet, greeting them, remembering their names and their
relationship with Rahul, she and Rahul seemed content in their togetherness.
I was about to slip into a self analysis mode, when I heard Piyas voice from
behind. Her curvaceous body looked even more sensual draped in US brands.
“You have got an accent.” I remarked.
“I know. Hasn’t Champ got it yet?” She asked jovially, fluttering her
eyelashes as always.
“Not really, not a whole lot at least”, I replied. “In any case, we mostly
communicate through letters.” And maybe that will stop too, I grimly thought
to myself.
“By the way, Stanford is next door to Berkeley. I could keep tabs on
Champ if you want,” teased Piya, flaunting her shapely nails painted a bright
red shade.
“You have a tendency to get involved with every guy in our lives,” I
kidded. “First it was Saurabh and then Sukhi. I would rather you kept your
distance from Champ.” I smiled.
“I can stay away, but there is no dearth of temptations in the States.
Although Champ has restrained himself so far, he may not be able to resist for
too long if you keep chasing your dreams”, warned Piya.
I felt my heart stop at the possibility. Champ had not called me or written
to me since the ApproxAIR dialogue. “Isn’t true love supposed to be undying
and selfless?” I beseeched.
“Only in the books,” said Piya. “In real life, every flower needs nurturing.”
“So I should get married to Champ and bear his kids? Is that what I had
been fighting all these years for?” I argued. I had seen my mother give up her
ambitions and her career to raise us and I definitely didn’t want that to happen
to me. My very own sister had had no time for painting ever since she had a
baby.
“What age are you living in? Marriage needn’t imply kids. Certainly not
immediately. There are a lot of things you can do even after you get married.
Why let marriage take anything away?” Piya seemed entertained by my
suggestion.
“But social obligations can come in the way of my success?” I reiterated
my viewpoint. I remembered how my favorite cousin, having married as soon
as law permitted, had assumed a new identity as so and so’s wife and so and
so’s mom.
“Would you be happy holding the sizzling, young, entrepreneur award,
without Champ by your side?” she postulated.
“There is no me without my dreams, but there is no dream without
Champ.” I sighed in exasperation.
“You make it sound like you have to choose between your mother and your
father,” humored Piya.
“I want to experience the freedom of a live-in relationship like yours with
the depth of a marriage like Puja’s”, I replied greedily.
“Then you will be surprised because I have decided to tie the knot as well,”
informed Piya with a strange coolness.
I stared at her in disbelief. I couldn’t imagine a diva like Piya, settling
down in life so soon. She had the guys eating out of her hands anyway. What
was the hurry?

“Eligible Bachelor Paradox3,” she answered, reading into my thoughts.

“You will find it in any game theory book.” And then as she got up to leave,
she said, “I tried my best to convince you, but you didn’t want him. I hope
you will forgive me for stealing your red!”, and walked away.
‘Stealing my red?’ – What did Piya mean by that? She couldn’t possibly.
Champ knows how she changes boyfriends. How can he? Since when had this
been going on? After I told Champ about ApproxAIR or ever since he left for
the US? Was it all a rehearsed dialogue that Piya was mouthing to clear her
conscience? When were they getting married? This summer? Did Puja know
about it? I was shocked, disgusted, and hurt at the same time.
I looked around myself. I saw Puja proudly holding her life partner’s hand.
She had certainly been quick and decisive about Rahul. I saw Divya in a deep
debate with Commode, who had been around for Divya ever since she had
suffered the emotional setback courtesy Saurabh. And I saw Charu talking to
Piya’s roommate from the States. I didn’t know whether she would ever get
married. That left me. I had left my first crush Commode because he smoked
and wasn’t romantic enough. I had never considered Silver worthy enough to
be my suitor because of his background and I had now even lost Champ, the
love of my life, for my ambitions.
It felt weird now that Piya had been my mentor whenever there had been a
crisis in my love life. Today, Piya, my best friend s sister, my love guru and
mentor, had walked away with my love.
Wait a minute, if Champ really loved me, he would have waited for me.
That’s what Puja had said, and I felt lighter, at least for the moment, at having
only lost a cheap imitation of love. My heart though was slowly beginning to
sink and my soul to droop.
“I hate it when people smoke in public,” I heard someone say and turned
around to find a moustache-less guy with a great physique and model like
looks standing next to me. “Hi, I am Divya’s brother,” he said with a cheerful
smile, “and you must be the one and only Ms DGM!”
3Eligible Bachelor paradox (http://www.slate.com/id/2188684/) m game
theory is one of the greatest riddles of social life in which it seems like there
is a shortage of available, appealing, and genuinely attractive men.
 Graduation day

I t was only late April, but the mercury was already touching forty degrees. I
sat outside my room in the corridor, looking down at the quadrangle. The
hostel was abuzz with activity. Girls moved around hastily looking into last
minute decorations, ensuring that the mike was working and the chairs were
clean. For a change, I just sat and observed. I was one of the guests today. As
I saw Puja and Divya come out from their rooms across the quadrangle, I also
got up and walked down. As always, even today Charu was not attending the
hostel event. In contrast to the hustle bustle around me, I felt a strange blissful
tranquility deep inside as I took a seat in the front row, and the ceremony
started. It’s not everyday that you attend your college farewell.
“Welcome everyone. We are all gathered here today to bid farewell to a
fabulous batch of fourth year students. I would first like to invite the most
beautiful girl in the history of IIT Delhi, who is all set to cause havoc on
UMASS campus. Already engaged to her batch mate, she has decided to keep
the options open and postpone the nuptial vows for now.” Puja went up the
stage to receive the memento and thanked everyone.
“Best JEE rank in Kailash so far, she is every girls idol when it comes to
the inter hostel events. This Dumb C guru is all set to rock the management
campus in Ahmedabad.” Divya walked up in her blue denims and said, “Life
is too short to run after grades and boys. Live it up.”
“Barbie adorns her room; she lives in luxury, but beware of her
grandfather’s fury. Charu is not around today, but she left her farewell speech
with me, and here it goes, “A few days back, my mother informed my
grandfather that I was going to get a silver medal for topping my department.
He simply smirked and said that only maids wear silver jewellery in his
house. What I want to convey is, Continue to excel even if the world
undermines your achievements.” There was a loud cheering that followed
Charus advice, even in her absence.
Just then, I heard an external call for me. Wondering who could be calling
this time, as my parents knew I was attending the event, I excused myself. At
first, I could barely hear the voice, but soon it became clearer.
“I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” asked
Charu, in her characteristic cryptic style, though her voice was feeble.
 A struggler rather than a reaper, I chose to hear the bad one first, and she
informed me that her grandfather had passed away in the morning.
I was coming to terms with the demise of a man, whose presence had been
haunting my neighbor for the last four years, when Charu disclosed the good
news, “I would like to take a pie of your entrepreneurial dreams, in exchange
for the money he has bequeathed me.
I could scarcely believe my ears at this piece of good news and barely keep
myself from screaming with joy. Charu had just promised me the much
needed investment for my startup to begin operations. I wanted to bless her
and thank her elaborately, but I had to cut the call short as everyone from our
batch had gone up the stage by now and I was needed for the final speech.
What luck!
As I took the mike to give my farewell speech, the image of a little girl in
two plaits and thick glasses flashed across my eyes. “When I came into IIT, I
was a nerd. I only cared for grades, but today I am going out with the
Director’s Gold Medal for best all round performance. I could never have
imagined myself scoring an above average GPA after I got 1 out of 20 in my
first exam at IIT, winning a choreography competition against DU teams,
winning the basketball matches against other IIT girls’ teams, winning the
Dumb charades against the boys, or becoming the hostel house secretary after
DD’s dirty politics. This place has nurtured me with a lot of affection. So
open yourselves and get moulded. You know not what you can be.”
There was a huge uproar of claps and whistles, as I paused to wipe silly,
happy tears that ran down my face and then said, “Lastly, if I was allowed to
thank one person within my batch, it would be the girl who gave me my
room. Without C3,1 would never have made friends with Puja, who taught me
the meaning of true love, Divya, who guided me to the Gold Medal, and
Charu, who has just now agreed to fund my startup.”
I came back and took my seat, amidst lot of hoorays and claps.
Three months later, I walked out from the IIT convocation hall, wearing a
loose, orange gown, a black graduation cap, and while my engineering degree
certificate only summarized my department and my cumulative GPA, my stay
at IIT had certainly been more than that. It had made me laugh and cry
innumerable times, it had taught me not only to quest the laws of physics but
also human science and it had given me a determination and a method to
excel.
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