Twelfth (Chapter 8)

Chapter 8 : Results

In the first week of October, when my first term results were declared, I felt the chills again. It was not like I was scared of failing or something, I knew it was inevitable but then there was that little hope of having amazing luck, and scoring well.

The day this happened, I went into the class a little earlier just to check out what the others were thinking about and also, because I didn’t want to enter into the class and straightway get an answer sheet.

We discussed a bit about the whole thing, and all of us (at least the ones who took part in the discussion) mutually agreed, that no one was going to get more than 9 in Maths.

We then moved on to a game of hand-cricket. I had just lost a match, when the clock struck nine and our accounts teacher entered the class.

“Anyone is absent?”

No one was.

I gathered every detail of her movement as she removed the papers, and put on her glasses. I had nothing else to do, and for a brief moment, I day dreamed about scoring 67 in her paper. A smile lit up my face.

“What are you laughing for?” my partner asked.

“Nothing.”

“Who laughs for nothing.”

This question was the inevitable tragedy of my life. Right from second standard I have been ridiculed, questioned, and even admonished on this habit of mine.

In second standard, when my Mom had gone to the parent teacher meeting, the teacher had said,

“Oh Sameer, he is a good student, but the only problem is that he is very absent minded. During prayers he just starts looking out of the window.”

My mother did not understand it. She was angry at the fact that a complaint was made against her son, and took it as a personal offence. She made ridiculously funny faces, to illustrate how I looked when I was absent-minded. I felt very bad looking at it. However, this didn’t stop me from delving into deeper periods of absent-mindedness.

As a grownup, I often dream about becoming rich and famous, and giving everyone who laughed at me, an ‘in-your-face’ piece of explanation. They just have to regret this thing.

***

The teacher had started calling out the numbers. 1, 2, 3,……. 14.

I geared up now. I was Roll No. 18, so there wasn’t much time left. I uttered a small prayer in the hope that I get good marks. Past experiences had testified that this works.  And if at all, I dared to disregard the prayer thing, and challenged god, then tragic marks would be received. No, Really.

***

The teacher gave me my answer paper.

I scored 24/100. Not many had scored below that. I felt bad. Even more so because, students in the same academic strata as me, had scored better. I didn’t care to check the totalling thing of the paper because, experience told me that it was never wrong. And, my luck was lousy.

Mohak had got 34, and when I told him about my marks (you have to exchange marks with everybody, like handshakes in a reunion party), he said,

“Oh, it is okay, only.”

I was very pissed off by the tone in which he said that.

“Bloody fucker thinks he is better than me now. Stupid dick.” I muttered to myself in frustration.

It is really a sort of a result theory. Which I know now.

You love it when you score better than a student, who is usually better than you. I have beaten a few guys like that, and trust me it is awesome fun to look at their face at such moments.

And it totally sucks, if a usually poor guy, who has been failing for 5 years, but still managing to get promoted, beats you. They come and laugh at your face.

Also, time is an important factor in this analogy. If a student is doing better than you consistentl, then he automatically gets promoted as a better student with an ego that has more chances to be shattered.

***

The 800 metre walk from school to home that day was something, that I did not want to end.

The marks had been horrible. A lot more than the worst case scenario that I had in mind.

I had failed in everything except English.

I was not feeling so bad when I was in school, in fact, in school, I even joked with a girl that while she had lost 26%, I had got 26%. And not only that, she was the second ranker of the class, while I was the same– only from behind.

But, somehow walking alone made me feel really bad about the whole thing.  How would my mom react? And more importantly, how was I going to give the boards with this level of preparation. And if I scored the second lowest in class for boards also, then that would be a very shameful thing.

As I rang the bell, I had decided to make manipulations to the marks. I would say that I had passed in Economics and Business Studies while simultaneously failing in Maths & Accounts.

“That would not be too unexpected. Besides, I have to take this in my stride.”

I told myself, and rang the bell once more.

***

My mom went right back to sleep after opening the door. It was evident that she didn’t remember that I was going to get my paper today. I was relieved at the thought of having avoided a major tragedy, at least for some time.

***

I switched on the TV, and looked for stuff which I could see and masturbate. It was something of a duty for me, I did it even when I was not titillated.

Usually, I preferred watching Bollywood Songs, (I loved all the heroines and besides no one else exposed on Indian television.) with ‘the more the skin, the better it is’ philosophy set as the benchmark for all videos. Only in extremely desperate situations, where the duty had to be done, come what may I shagged off with anything where a good looking girl has revealed some cleavage.

That day also, I picked up the remote and mechanically punched in the numbers of all the channels where something might be happening.

Star Plus. Star Gold. UTV Movies. FIlmy. Set Max!- yes! Set Max.

Set Max was playing Mohra. It had a hot song, which was approximately half an hour after the scene that was currently being relayed. (I knew the location of almost all the popular hot songs in Indian movies. And many not popular ones also. A very significant achievement.)

Waiting for half an hour didn’t seem much like a good idea.

I tuned further.

Zee Cinema had a Nana Patekar movie. No hope in that.

“Let’s check all the South Indian channels. There may be something there.”, I thought to myself.

And what luck, Surya TV was playing a nice Ayesha Takia+Nagarjuna song. Oh my god, did she look delicious.

I decided to skip the wait for Raveena and shagged off with this instead.

After that, I picked up the semen from my genitals , spread it evenly over both my hands & then went and washed it in the washbasin. The remaining semen, was left where it belonged and I uttered a silent dedication in Ayesha Takia’s name.

And besides, I was not really a cleanliness freak.

***

In the evening, when my mother had got up to make tea, she (still) did not ask me about the marks.

“Maybe, it has slipped from her mind.  A very welcome thing, indeed.”, I thought to myself.

***

At night, after dinner, while I was watching TV, my mom suddenly called me from the other room.

Inspiration had struck her.

“Sameer, you were supposed to get your marks na…”

“Urm… yes, I’ve got it.”

My mother was excited with this news. She too took pleasure in knowing other people’s marks, I later reflected. Much like me.

“How much did you get?”

Here I sent my brain a signal, which basically meant,

keep calm. say it in a disinterested manner.

“Okay only. English 52… Business studies, … 44. Accounts 36, Economics 40 and Maths I got very less.”

“How much?”

“19.”

Now, those marks were a far shot from my actual marks, even by the most liberal of assumptions. But,  it was enough to get my mother psyched up. She put on a concerned voice,

“This is really bad marks. At this rate, you will fail in boards.”

She kept silent for a while then, and looked at me. What could I conceive then? Nothing at all.

She resumed her monologue though, this time in a sterner intonation,

“There is only one solution to this, if you don’t do well in the boards, then I’ll take you to Darbhanga (my, native place) and put you in a college there. You have B.Com in R.G. College. Malan (your uncle) was also like this. His parents had sent him to a biiig school in Bangalore. By 12th, he was totally spoiled and into bad habits.”

I wasn’t scared and all, by this threat but she kept her lecture moving,

“Then, he was sent to Darbhanga to live with my father. Imagine, Bangalore to Darbhanga.  And then when he went there he realised his mistake himself and studied hard. Now, he changes his company every 6 months for a better pay.”

I thought that the example was irrelevant and I was not really bad.

“Arey mummy, don’t worry. Everybody gets marks like this only. By the time, boards come everyone manages a good percentage.”

However, she merely refused to grasp this piece of simple analysis.

“You know, your other friends- don’t compare yourselves with them. They have rich fathers and all. They can eat the rest of their lives without studying. You cannot. Yours is a family of scholars and studying is what you have to do.”

“But mummy, I will get a decent percentage in the boards. No worries for admission and all. These exams are purposely kept tough, so that we study harder.”

“This you have been telling from a long time. Nothing happens.”

Here, my wise brother interrupted with his input.

“Will you guys please stop shouting and let me watch TV.”

My mother replied back,

“You have seen his marks? How will I not shout?”

“He will continue to get these marks if all you do is just shout. This happens after every exam. Lock his internet, and he will automatically study. He will be so bored that he will have to study.”

My heart experiences a deep shake at that suggestion. “There is so much work to be done there. It will suck hard if net goes.”

“What do I know? You do. I am giving you the permission.”

“Okay. I’ll do it.”, my brother agreed almost immediately. I had a sneaky suspicion that he was feeling good and victorious about this.

I also did my bit of sentimental shouting.

“Okay, do what you want to do. And I’ll do what I want to do. You lock the internet, and come what may I’ll not study.”

That bit of challenge, achieved no result externally, but it did inflate my ego.

***

The next two days, were pretty sombre. I talked very less. Slept a lot. Day-dreamed. And did everything in my power, except studying. I was a very egoistic person, you see.

My mother’s defences were slowly crumbling, and we both knew that.

***

Then, one time, while I was reading the newspaper, she came to me and smiled. (it was an acceptance of defeat.)

I smiled back.

“If i switch on the internet, then will you start studying?”

No time wasted in small talk.

“Yes, of course.”

This was what I was waiting for.

“Okay, but don’t overdo it. Anything in excess is bad. I will ask your brother to unlock today, but you have to promise me that you will study for 4 hours before studying for 2 hours.”

I was emphatic, to even think about the harshness of the deal. Something is definitely better than nothing.

“Yes, okay.”

My mom noticed my subtle expression of vulnerability, and in order to protect her ego ordered me,

“Allright, now go and study. Afterwards, when your brother comes I’ll open the internet.”

I did not argue with her, and immediately went to my bedroom.

***

The deal had been homoured.

For four straight days, I spent the four hours, reading Business Studies and English, getting up to pee or drink water every 45 minutes or so. I was happy with this routine. I even did Accounts homework well before time for a change.

“This is actually a good thing. Now, I will score better in the exams, and that is a great thing.”, I said to myself.

***

On the fifth day, I got too happy with my routine. And didn’t think that I should study anything on that day.

But 4 hours had to be faked.

I gave writing the blog post a thought, but I had no ideas. Everything depleted. And the new ones that came were below my standard, or so I told myself.

English textbook repelled me. So reading that was out of question. I couldn’t be seen reading a novel.

So, what then?

After some thought, I decided to write a diary.

I had two reasons for it:-

“One, it could be a fruitful addition to the world’s literary treasure and people would read it with a lot of interest. Afterall, a student from a financially okay, high-class Brahmin family such as me has never chronicled his pain.”

This was the best case scenario. To have it published.

The worst case was,

“If at all it is lost and nobody gives a damn, then at least I’ll have some consolation in the form of the immense joy that I would receive when I read this diary after 10 years. It’d be cool to know what I felt as a teenager.”

***

I immediate wrote my first entry in a new notebook with a good quality parker pen, which I had got as a birthday gift.

Okay then, this is my first entry, into this diary. I hope to write it daily from now on.

Yes yes, I know I am a lazy guy, but really I have four free hours to while away everyday.

It’s not like I have not tried writing a diary before, but somehow I have not been able to concentrate or focus. Besides, I have written a bit now, so obviously my diary entries will be better qualitatively.

Things have to change now.

I know, I have not told you anything about my day, but rather just blabbered on the subject of writing a diary. But, this is the first entry so I guess I deserve some consideration.

Anyways, I’ll take a leave now. I am in no mood to write real big things now. Proper chronicling of events from tomorrow onwards.

Cheers,

Sameer Jha.

An Update.

(Complete rambling follows. You can miss it if you want. Or if you are a truly sophisticated guy then you can analyse this and form theories and insights about my character. But the effort will be yours. If you have fun doing that, then that’s just great. I love it too. We should talk sometimes. Also, people with voyeuristic tendencies could probably have fun.)

I have noticed that over the last 30-35 days, I have posted 7 chapters.

For those who don’t know already, this is not the final draft, and am just putting it online to receive continuous motivation for doing it.

Actually, a very tragic thing occured with the notebook in which I wrote the whole thing for the first time. It was around 100 pages in your normal jumbo sized notebook.

It got lost in the train. I forgot actually. Since the train unexpectedly stopped at an earlier station. Vashi Station.

The loss was very sad, but in a way encouraging also. I knew that I had written a very rough thing, and the jokes were said way too quickly, and that I’d do a better job if I wrote it again.

So, I consoled myself with the fact that at least it was fun. And resolved to photocopy everything I wrote from then on.

Then, by a culmination of various factors, including the need to find desperate motivation, I started to post it on my blog.  I have to say, that this somewhat speeds up the gaining of insight process. But, also at times makes you depressed and feel like a bad and useless writer wasting other people’s time. Just like so many writers in the market today.

I know that when this gets over, I’ll have to spice it up a bit. Add a little bit more of mental geography. Make it a bit more sharp. Add some acceptable level of real conflict in static portions.

Another point, that I’d like to make is that this process is very dangerous (to post fiction on a blog) as there are a lot of  factors involved and a writer can get insecure for all the wrong reasons.

One should keep one’s focus on the notebook at hand, and not just sleepwalk through the process in a disinterested manner since your subconscious now knows a few things about writing, and write something that is very bland and weak. But instead, it is imperative to keep your observational skills sharp and point out things of relevance in the atmosphere in which the scene is taking place.

Before ending, I’d like to point out that while writing the ‘notebook-getting-lost’ episode in this post- I had a sneaky suspicion that it was a bad omen and this thing is doomed.

But then, till now it’s been going good, and I always remember what Harivansh Rai Bachchan says,

“Mann ka ho toh achcha, na ho toh aur bhi achcha.”

Now, probably this is going to turn out even better since there will be more drafts now.

But, I had more fun writing that draft than I am having writing this. Is that a good thing or a bad?

Phew! I am already sweating. And I gotta go now. Written enough.

Twelfth (Chapter 7)

Chapter 7 : Not Quite Literature

The next day, which was Friday, was a holiday. After a long time, we had a three day weekend, and even though there was some work to be done and tuitions were also conducted, I gave myself full license to use the internet with rampaging ferocity.

One of the tasks that I wanted to carry out over the next few days was the long cherished dream of being able to publish my articles.

I had put it on hold because earlier I didn’t have enough originally churned pieces to be able to reach a respectable page count.

So, over the next few days, I carried the task of making a book with total concentration. A page was reserved for author’s bio, acknowledgments, and quotes which were previously conceived on various occasions but now could be presented at a respectful place.  Quotes like,

“I don’t mean to be mean, but I really don’t know what mean means.”

“When you really want something from all your heart, the whole universe conspires for you to achieve it. Exceptions occur of course, in the case of Naughty America videos.”

“There are only two kinds of jokes in the world. Non-Veg Jokes, and PJs.”

I also gave it a name, after much haggling. It was called,

“Not Quite Literature.”

***

The next working day, (Monday, i.e.) I gave the copies to a few people, Kalpana included and informed them of my intentions,

“Actually, this is something from my blog, and I want you to read it and give your comments.”

I did feel a little awkward giving my copy to a few girls with whom I was not that friendly. You know, the kind of girl with whom you would exchange customary sentences once a month. For a moment, I felt like an insurance agent trying to sell some policy, but soon I let go of my inhibitions on the pretext that around 5-6 months back they had asked me if they could borrow my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

All in all, I was satisfied with my performance as a salesman during the day. I hoped to receive my payment in the form of laughter and praise tomorrow. That would really be a boost to my ego, and others will also see me with a unique kind of respect. But, in between these thoughts an uninvited self disciplinary message kicked in,

“Ignore these thoughts my son, they will only lead to bad luck and disappointment. Most big writers think very differently and write for themselves, and the praise is secondary to them. That is what they say in their interviews. If you want to do good, train your mind to develop new ideas, and don’t worry about the benefits of that activity.”

***

At night, I recieved a message from a few people, but the one that I had been waiting for came at the stroke of midnight hour. It was from Kalpana:-

“Hey, I read it. It was very funny. I didn’t know you could write so well. Awesome… Best of luck.”

I could have run naked on a road shouting, “Eureka!” “Eureka!” then, but I had to give her a reply.

“Thanks! I wanted to get more readers so I printed it. Anyways, how were your exams.”

Her reply was also instantaneous,

“Oh! I see. Exams were BAD. I am reaaaallllyyyy scared.”

I also replied, saying what I really felt, since there was no point in manipulating,

“Yes. But you will still get 85+, so no probs… My standards for BAD are 20/100. “

Another replay after 5 minutes, I had to listen to a song to help pass the time,

“Hmmm…Okay.  anyways, g2g to sleep now… gnsdtc.”

I listened to the radio, after that. Due to some reason, every song it played seemed like a masterpiece. And I couldn’t help but smile, when I saw the truth hidden in the “Kuch toh hua hai” song sung by Shaan.

The lines,

“Acchha rehta hai mood bhi tabse,

Haske milta hoon aaj kal sabse”

seemed as if it could only be conceived by a genius. At that moment, Javed Akhtar seemed like the best lyricist there ever could be.

***

The next morning, I beamed upon the sight of Kalpana. ‘What eternal beauty’, I thought to myself.

But, I couldn’t bring myself to talk flamboyantly after that. Slow and steady wins the race, was the mantra that I wanted to apply.

***

In the second period, when everyone went down for games, I went to the library. As, I was feeling to happy to deliberately feel useless.

There, after gazing at various shelves for no reason at all, I picked up a book which was quite famous and it was short, so I thought I can finish it in a short time.

It was called, ‘Jonathan Livingston Seagull’, and 20 pages into the book I had already started loving it. I mean, this guy was a lot like me. It restrengthened my beliefs of being an outcast, someone who was different.

Now, my mind and logic told me that since this guy is great, and he is excatly like me, so therefore, I am also very great. I smiled to myself, and had a rush of energy gained through the inspirational text.

A certain prefect then, tapped on my back and said, with a rude voice,

“Subramaniam is calling you. Come out.”

I had not expected such an intrusion. From, what I believed I hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe, it was something else, but the look on the face was too serious.  It could mean only one thing- I was going to be scolded.

But, the question was why?

***

I found out soon enough though.

The Head Boy and few prefects had gathered around the middle of the third floor. He held a copy of my book, it was called, “Not Quite Literature”.

The look on his face was angry. I had a hunch that it was made up on purpose, so that he could look like an authority and all. No real anger.

“What is this?” he said, and threw the copy on the floor.

“Actually, this is a book that I have written.” What lie could I conceive now?

“I can see that, but why are you bringing it to school.”

“Urm… Just like that,” I didn’t have anything to say, really.

“That is okay, and what have you written in it. I have already shown it to your class teacher and she said, that she will show it to the vice principal.”

I couldn’t curse my luck more. I imagined the vice principal going through the crude sexual humor in the book and shuddered at the very thought. Why on earth was the bag checked on that day?

After an uncomfortable silence where I was just staring at the texture of the head boy’s face, the bell rang. The other prefects left, and it was just me and him now.

“Hmm.. Then, Sameer, what is your problem? Why do you behave like this, you think Subramaniam Ma’am is on your side and will not do anything?”

I did not think that he would get such an idea, even though the truth was that Ma’am did favor me in situations.

“And, this is not the first time. Regularly, you have been breaking rules, and disrespecting people, etc. What do you think you are, a rebel?”

This was very uncomfortable for me. He was asking strange questions, directly.

“No, actually, I am very irregular and absent-minded, so because of that it is hard for me to conform to routine and discipline.”

“Hmmm… okay. Now, don’t look at me as an head-boy or something, but rather as a mentor.”

When he used the word, mentor. I was shocked out of my wits. What the hell did he think? I suppressed my anger and said, in a louder voice with the sort of anger that one gets when you question the perpetrator of injustice.

“Now, why am I called here? I don’t think bringing such a book is  a crime.”

He was a bit taken back now, and his voice immediately dropped.

“Leave that for later, how much did you get in your last unit test?”

“51%”

“See 51%. If you study, you can get 90. You are intelligent, and you can do really well. I have seen you from a long time now, it is pretty obvious that you are above average. So, why do you not use it?”

“Yes, but actually I am not intelligent. It is very relative you know, I may be intelligent at this but- I am not intelligent at studies.”

“Yes okay, but now is the time to do be intelligent in other things. It’s 12th, Sameer. In college, no one will stop you from doing these things.”

I did not want to argue any more with him. He pissed me off royally.

“Hmm.. okay.”

I looked slightly away. And waited for him to drop the conversation.

He got the hint, and said,

“Anyways then, I have a period now, so I have to go.”

I went back to my class, pretty disgusted at the amount of shit that I had subjected myself to.

***

The same day, in the accounts period, my teacher came into the class with the book and directly looked at me.

I had shared my grievance with my friends, but  they too had no advice to offer. Not even encouraging words.

“One accountancy project, you will not do, but this you will do.” she said, apparently shocked at such an uncommon offence.

“I never knew your mind was so poisonous. This is what you are learning on the internet, it seems. To steal someone’s notebook.”

I felt totally misunderstood. I had expected it though and had an answer ready.

“Ma’am that is just written there. I am not trying it in real life.”

“That also, I am not sure, whether you are trying or not.”

I showed a look of helpless submission then. This lady is way too village minded to understand anything.

***

The next English period, I kept myself totally quiet,  and did not offer to read or answer any question. How I wished I had never brought the book to school in the first place.

As the end of the period approached, I somewhat thought, I had succeeded in the effort of saving myself from the taunts, when she said,

“See, if you read the editorial page in Times of India you can say that these are not normal people. They have a certain standard. Whereas, if you look at these 4 rupees magazines, then they have no worth or quality.”

I knew she was hinting at the fact that I wrote horribly, but I was okay with it. I thought, maybe she hadn’t read the whole thing. But then, she added,

“Last year also, one boy was posting nasty things on orkut. And talked horribly bad about others. We confronted him, and told him to stop all this negativity.”

I knew who that boy was. He was the guy who wrote sexual jokes about all the teachers and even said that her chemistry teacher had grafted her pubic hair on her head.

She is comparing me to him.

I was already in a cringing moos, and with that I almost started to sweat. I couldn’t bring myself to talk comfortably to anyone, and for the next two days, I hoped that this nightmare would end soon.

***

It ended, I don’t know how, and I was back to my normal self. On the flipside, I realised that all the mental real estate that I had established in Kalpana’s mind was now rendered useless courtesy the senseless fiasco.

I did not feel really bad though, after all mental peace was back now. And, I did not feel even guilty. After all, if someone had the right to be angry, it was me. You see, it’s completely immoral to check someone’s bag without permission.

Twelfth (Chapter 6)

Chapter 6 : The Periods

Day 1 of the Second term fell on a Tuesday. It was a day most boys in my class looked forward to, mostly because the second period was Games.

Whether I liked this period or not, I don’t know. I was probably the weakest player in my class, at least amongst the ones who cared enough to go down. So, obviously since I did not really compete, it wasn’t an adrenalin pumping experience for me.

I still went down, because of the fact that the open air seemed like a welcome reprieve from the monotonous and dull, environment of the school.

Mostly we played football, and the trademark of school football is that the weaker players are relegated to defense. And, their main job is to run after the star players, and try and provoke them into hitting an ill-timed shot. If at all, the ball comes towards us we are not supposed to try our footballing brains to execute a strategy but rather hit straight in the direction of the other goal post.

Very accidentally, on this day, I scored a goal. Our team had received a corner and in EPL, defenders went forward on this occassion. So, we did the same.

The ball came from somewhere and hit my head. It bounced once on the ground and entered the goal. I must have run for atleast 10 seconds after that. It felt great.

I tried to play the rest of the game with confidence and precision. I didn’t play too well, but it was the best I could do. For a person, who usually did not even hit a ball, scoring a goal was a big thing.
Never mind the profanities, I used to utter whenever I said that football players were overrated.

***

After the match, we had our Business Studies period.

The teacher, who came in, was going to take 3 periods in a row. Two business Studies and one accounts. The students were already prepared for this assault.

We were doing some stuff on  ‘Staffing’, and the teacher was explaining as to how we have to give references for our skill when giving interviews.

“Yesterday only someone from HSBC called, and asked me about a girl I taught 5 years ago. They asked, ‘How many years she was in your class?’ and ‘How was  her behavior?’. I said, ’she was good and always used to do her work on time, and was also active in debates and elocution and all.”

She paused, and then added, with a sarcastic smile on her face,

” Some students, even if they do not behave properly, and are never doing their work on time- call me in such a situation. I will definitely help them.”

I knew that this referred mainly to me. But I did not take it as a blow to my ego but instead laughed about it as if I had just been praised.

Then, a girl asked, very wisely, for it is not natural to ask such a question.

“Ma’am, can you tell us how you gave your interview when you came to this school.”

“This school, it was no big deal. I just told that I have 14 years experience and I previously taught in K.L. Baghnani school and they were more than happy to take me.”

Now we knew how she was selected. ‘If proper interview had been there, the interviewees would sleep till they drop’ I thought to myself and let out a smile.

My friend, and partner Nischay was intrigued by this and asked,

‘Why are you smiling?’

‘No, nothing. Just like that.’

‘What man? Who laughs like that only?’

‘Arey nothing re.. my habit.’

‘Mad only you are.’

I had heard this complaint since 2nd standard, when she had to call up my mother and say that I was extraordinarily absent-minded. My mother said that, if at all, he starts to dream in the class, then give him one tight slap. Without that, he cannot pay attention.The teacher was polite and all, and said no, that was not necessary, he just had to learn concentration. Eventually, that never happened.

According to an old Sanskrit couplet, I had four of the five distinct features of a bad student. None of it amongst the five features of a good student.

While this was going through my mind, the teacher had started with another interesting anecdote.

”You know there’s this college, TMI, I went there for an interview. And these 4-6 old people were taking it. They were asking me, ‘you teach in school, so how are you going to manage the MBA portion’

She continued,

‘So, I said, that I have seen the portion and whatever accounts they teach in CBSE 11th and 12th, the same thing they teach in MBA first year also.’

All of us found this bit of trivia very enlightening and a smile invariably lit up our faces. Later, when our parents would ask us why we got such negligible marks, we would say that the paper was tough and that we do Master’s level accounts.

***

The next period was also Business Studies, but it was cut short by our vice-principal who taught us English. You see, our business studies teacher did not really like this interruption, but what could she do? In short term battles power alone triumphs.

So, Mrs. Subramaniam, after allowing us some time to settle, asked us to open our textbooks and minds. By the text on the page, one could make out that she was going to teach us ‘A Thing Of Beauty’ by John Keats.

A girl, (someone whom I thought fancied me) volunteered to read it aloud.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

She stopped here. The teacher had to explain now. She let out a smile,
“So, can anybody tell me what Keats meant when he wrote that?”

She looked inquisitively towards the class.

Reluctantly, I raised my hand. I thought that I had some understanding of it. Nothing much, just the simple language translation of what was already written. But, reflecting on my writing habit- I felt that this was something which has increased my joy over the course of time.

I raised half my hand in a cool and controlled manner. I deliberately showed that I wasn’t very excited.

“Yes, Sameer.”
“Ma’am actually, it’s like whatever is beautiful is not short-lasting but instead it is something that grows and flourishes over the course of time. I mean, you cannot deny it’s existence by any artificial method. As beautiful things, it will remain to be.”

Mrs. Subramaniam was very pleased with the explanation.
“Very Good.” she said.
I also noticed a genuine look of admiration in her face.

I was considerably happy and content by this incident, not often was I patted on my back for something.

I looked at Kalpana for a second, and noticed that she was looking at me. Even she was pretty impressed by this. I was jubilated by the happy turn of events.

Twelfth (Chapter 5)

Chapter 5 : Examinations

Somewhere around September of that year, we had our first term examination. The first of the many, that was to come in the near future.

Sitting in my bedroom, I opened my textbook and started with the chapter that in my estimate would take the least amount of time. With freshly made resolutions, I covered considerable ground in the first 15 minutes or so. Not used to the rigour of studying, I mentally charted out a plan for the day:-

‘Now, I will do this Goodwill chapter in another 10 minutes, and then partnership will take another 15 or so. I will do only revaluation a/c, since that’s the only part I know, and it’s too late to learn new concepts. Theory- I’ll give a reading, and NPO I somewhat know but still to be on the safer side, I will do just one sum. All that is going to take around 2 hours max. Now, It’s 3 pm, so much time left. Studies will be taken care of in the night.’

With that thought, I would switch on my PC and sat there till I was exhausted with all the reading. I slept on my bed to recuperate from the saturation.

While resting, my mind thought very differently:-

“If you continue to have a problem with this, then you’re going to have a lot of issues with the boards also.”

“I know I am intelligent enough, if I study then maybe I can score substantial marks. Then, I will be able to use that as a weapon in my arsenal to extract some respect out of Kalpana.”

“Who hates getting some marks, what people hate is the effort put in.”

With that thought, playing on my mind, I am lulled into sleep.

An hour later, my Mom wakes me up reminding me that I have an important exam tomorrow.

***

At night, after having another half an hour session of studies, I say to myself:-

“Forget all this. This is not the boards. And, anyways it is too late to study now. From now on, (i.e. after the exam) I will study continously from the beginning so that the load doesn’t get unmanageable at the end.”

So, in this moment of self-imposed freedom, I decide to call up a few people. After negligible contemplation, I dial up Subodh’s number. I already know what he is going to say, but still it is reassuring to talk.

“….”

“So, how much did you get done with?”

“Not much man. Just 1 chapter, that too only summary.”

“Hmmm.. Me too have studied only one chapter properly. Rest all I will just write something. I mean, I know enough concepts to pass.”

“Okay.. In my case, it is impossible to pass because I am going to get over with  my paper in 20 minutes.”

“…”

“Okay then, best of luck,” I say to conclude conversation. 

“Yeah right, best of luck.” He would say, staying true to the custom.

After the conversation, I don’t really feel like doing anything. I had already used up the internet for a few hours today. Doing it again, would be inviting wrath from my mother.

So, I tried to think of the next person to call.

I wanted to talk to Kalpana, but then I thought it would be inappropriate since I was not such a good friend of hers to call for no reason at all.

So the next option was messaging.

But, a simple ‘Hi! How are your preps going’ seemed far too banal for my imaginative brain. Sending something like that, would be a deep wound on my pride.

So, at once, I started to think up of a joke that would be appropriate in the given circumstances.

In  matter of few minutes, which involved walking up and down around the house with extreme ferocity, I finally had a joke.

I typed it down and hit the sent button.

“Scholar (n.) Assholes who will say they have not studied anything, when in fact they are already dreaming up over the glory of getting 95 plus.”

I added a postscript also.

“P.S Hey, I hope you are done with the 3rd revision.”

After this, I sat on my bed and waited for the reply.

2 minutes later, I still didn’t get any reply. “Maybe, she is busy. Let me listen to a song, that will take up five minutes at the barest minimum. Hopefully, I’ll get the reply by then.” I thought to myself.

Song got over, but the message had not yet been received. I became very restless at the thought. And, also started to get depressed about the quality of my joke. ‘Only a horse would find it funny’ I cursed myself. I even made resolution to never send a message on momentary whim again.

Thankfully, to my respite, my mother called me for dinner and I saw some of the television and somewhat forgot about the agony of my mind.

***

The day of the exam, I was woken up by my mother a little earlier.

“Last 1 hour, son. You must do some revision. This is very valuable in the exam.”

I get up, brush my teeth in 2 minutes, as is my style and straightaway open my textbook while simultaneously sipping on hot bournvita. For some reason, it tasted a lot more better.

Then when I start looking at the subject matter in the textbook, I thought to myself,

“This stuff is incredibly new and disturbing. I don’t want pain. I know enough to pass, and that is the mindset with which I am going to give the exam. Now, is the time to relax and feel good.”

***

The class usually is bustling with chattering about the nooks and crevices of the chapters that are coming in the examination. It is done very seriously.

I look at a guy who is somewhat like me academically, and ask,

‘Did you study anything?’

‘No.’

‘Even I did not do anything. This is not the boards afterall. I do not study for these small examinations.” I said arrogantly, and elicited a laugh in my friend.

The exam itself went somewhat according to the plan. I even managed to sneak in a few marks via my classmates who knew what the textbook contained. The invigilator wasn’t that lenient but we weren’t that foolish also.

***

At the end, I was hugely satisfied with my performance and whenever somebody asked me,

“How was the paper.”

I would say,

“Nice. I am going to pass easily.”

Students in the upper academic strata, Kalpana included, furiously discussed the answers and fretted over some minor mistake. I almost wanted to tell them,

“What difference is one mark going to make foolish lady. Sit back and Enjoy!’

But, I did not bother to take the trouble.

Twelfth (Chapter 4)

Chapter 4 : Partners in Crime

I met Subodh in 7th standard. He had just joined the school, so I didn’t really know him except by face.

Then, a week later, in a computer practicals period, where we were partners he asked me out of the blue,

“Do you like Rape?”

I was a bit taken aback, but even then I understood what he wanted to say. Do you like naked ladies with men around them?

“Uhh.. Yes.” 

“Oh good.. you watch these sites on the internet?”

“Yes, Sometimes.”

“Okay, then check out this website– nakedfilepino.com.”

Excited at the recommendation, I tore a piece of paper from my notebook and noted it down. I would have a job to do once I get home now.

 ***

Once home, I quickly changed and told my mom that I was going to the cyber cafe. She told me to wait,

“First eat and then go.”

“I have eaten, Nihaal’s birthday today. So, he gave us a treat.”  I said making up an excuse that never dried up.

“Okay..”

***

As I took my seat, I felt comfortable by the fact that the computers adjoining me where empty. I took the piece of paper out, and typed it in the address bar, excitedly waiting for the result.

My heart sank when I saw what happened:-

The page didn’t turned up. I hit the refresh button, and even typed the address again, trying to take extreme care while doing it. It still didn’t turn up.

 But, looking at the fact that I still had 25 minutes of my time left on the computer, I, shifted to looking at the 100s of naked ladies on worldsex. I secretly wished,

“If I could feel up one of these girls for one night then all my life would be fulfilled and I am willing to sacrifice anything for this experience.”

“If I could ask God for one wish then it would be to give me such a power that whenever I touch some hot girl’s photo, it would spring to life and become my slave. I would use this power on a lot of people- celebrities, and known. Hot aunties and teachers, 40 year old heroines, 16 year old teenage sensations. Chinese, African, Caucasian.. I would have a taste of every possible permutation and combination of the female race.”

But, after this wishful fantasy, I always knew that this was something that could occur only in the movies.

***

4 years later in 12th,  Subodh and I became really good friends. Mostly because, we were pretty sure that if our views get accepted by the world then all the woes and conflicts would be put in their place.

Twelfth (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3 : Propaganda

At night, while I was on my bed trying to sleep, I contemplated on finding a topic for my blog. (This was something that I took seriously).

Evidently, the three-four topics that I had made a note of during a highly productive surge of creative energy had been depleted. And, the time-gap between that day and the day I had made my last post was already a week. ‘I have to make a post quickly, or else my readers would turn away.’ I thought to myself.

So, in order to arrive at the topic, I tried to recollect some incidents that had previously occured in my school. One thing that came to my mind was something that had happened when I was in 4th standard.

What happened was, that a certain number of students had reported that their notebook had been missing. Someone had stolen it. Immediate inquiries were made, along with loose threats:

“Whosoever has done it is going to be caught.  If he/she accepts his mistake now, then we will consider a bit while punishing. Otherwise, the criminal will be caught anyways.” The primary co-ordinator said, instilling fear even in those who were not responsible for the heist at all.

Ultimately, the matter was buried and no harm came to the thief.

I found this story pretty interesting and fit to go in my blog. Satisfied with this realization, I went to sleep. My readers would get something to read up finally.

***

Over the course of next day, in school my mind invariably went back to the story and I began exploring the motives of what that character might have done the stealing for:-

To take revenge?

Because he was mad?

To avoid the homework?

The last question, triggered a strange process in me and in a moment of insight- I decided to name my piece as  ‘How to avoid the homework?’

With that insight, I felt like I had solved a tough jigsaw puzzle.

**

Once home, I wrote down the piece on paper and then after some revisions typed it down for my blog. The post turned out to be something like this:-

How to avoid doing the homework

Standard Answers ab ho gaye poorane. Naye ka zamaana hai bhai…

So here’s presenting a series of posts which will help you avoid that thing called Homework…

This strategy works like a charm, especially in “MUST SUBMIT NOTEBOOK” cases.

The scenario should be something like:

It’s almost the end of the term and the teachers been asking for everybody’s notebooks. You can’t escape because the teacher is very careful and maintains a list of people not submitting their notebooks.

You also however, cannot submit the notebook… because you’ve not goddamn made it.

So, What to Do:

Worry Not… You’ve just landed at the right place. Now what you’ve got to do is to pretend that you’ve lost your notebook…

“Oh Come On… D’you think she’ll buy that.” you say.

Well, She won’t believe it, if you’re the only guy to lose the notebook… but if 5-10 guys lose theirs, all at once…

She has no option but to believe you.

What you’ve gotta do is… Steal some notebooks… students of all genres that is average, good and people like you…

Zero the names of students before hand so that you don’t face any dilemma on the D-DAY.

Open their bags… and take out the specific notebook.

And keep ‘em in your bag… Make sure that the stolen notebook would not be used again that day. Your bag will be a bit on the heavier side but that’s the price you gotta pay.

After you’re done “Take a Deep Breath…”

And go back to the place where you’re supposed to be and talk to as many kids as possible.

Next Day:
Start looking worried and make it clear to “the concerned Ma’am” …

“Uh…Ma’am I can’t find my … uh… notebook. I had it in my bag yesterday… But Now, It’s not there..”

Others will start talking too…

“Mine Also… Mine Also…”
So… Take a deep breath and suggest.
“Ma’am I think someone has stolen it… We should check the bags…”
And Voila!! The pandemonium has been created… Thou shalt have single-handedly wasted a period.

Moreover, you have readymade notes for your own perusal at the time of exams.

As I hit the publish button, I knew that the job was not wholly done yet. The writing had been done, now it had to be marketed. I knew that I just had to:-

1.) send an offline message to everyone in my Yahoo Messenger list. Some people deleted me, but then this was a very successful tool of promoting.

2.) Scrap 25 people on Orkut, whom I expected readership from. If even 5 of them get back, the effort has paid off.

3.) Post the link on at least 10 Orkut communities so that new readers find out about the blog. Continous replenishment is the key to fighting all kinds of scarcity.

4.) Comment on all my net friend’s blog, so that they comment back out of gratitude, and also because there is a possibilty of catching a new reader.

Once I did all this, I went out of my home and treated myself to a pastry. A sweet well deserved.

An Excerpt From Kafka: The Decisive Years

The link.

Though the whole book is brilliantly written, I would in the context of this blog recommend pages 9-11.

Twelfth (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2: Tuitions

Soon after school, I called up my friend, and asked him to come to the bus stand, so that we could go to the tuition’s together. This friend, is none other than Mohak. (With only 22 students in my class, your life was influenced by the same person in more ways than one.)

I arrived at the bus-stand a little later than the usual time and together we boarded the bus that would take us to our destination. I asked him to pay the fare for both of us, since I had no cash. But the truth was, that I’d rather drink a sugarcane juice with that.

During the journey, we talked over various topics.

“You have started studying anything for the first term?”, I asked him to initiate conversation.

“No. I don’t understand what to study? There is so much.”

“Yes, and anyways, my mood always tells me not to study and then I close my books and watch TV.”

“And if at all, once in a blue moon, I do feel like studying then my mother interrupts me and tell me to bring the milk. If I tell her that, ‘I am studying now, I will do your work later’ then, she would say that ‘Always, when I give you work then only you have to study.’ Now what shit is this?”

“Exactly, my home also the same story takes place.”

“I am not  that worried about the other subjects, just Maths.”

“Maths fuck.. I don’t how I will pass. The tuition that I go to is full on fuck all.”

“Full South-Indian no..”

“Yes, two is called rund in their language, so the whole time I get to hear that. The only thing that I like about it is that I get to see Kalpana in casuals.”

“Enough na. What more do you need?”, he says while laughing out loud.

The conversation fades for a little while. I resume it though,

“See, if you get to fuck three girls in our class, then whom would you pick.”
Looking intrigued, he replies
“First, Kalpana.”
“Yes, that is but obvious. First choice of every man!”
“Right ya, whoever her husband will be- he would be a damn lucky guy.”
“If I would be him, then I will show her only the ceiling in the first week.”
“Totally, if you get tired then eat Revital.”
Both of us laugh loudly again. Energy and hormones running through our body.

“Okay, next who will you fuck?”
“Next… uhhhh…

Sandhya.”
“Sandya– Boobs are big, but face is not good.”
“What do you want to do with the face? Cover the face and fuck the base.”
“Point. So, who is third?”

He takes a lot of time to answer this.
“Third… Third… who would I fuck?”
I look at him and he looks at me.
“Tell fast, you don’t have all the time in world.”
“Urm… Shweta”
“Shweta? Hmmmm….” I had hit a teasing point.
Some spice had been extracted finally.
“Now, there are no options only so I had to take her name only.”

***

Just before I was about to enter, I noticed the fact that Mohak had not done the homework, and was trying to think up of some excuse in order to escape.
I secretly celebrated this news, and hoped that this man got scolded by the teacher.

The teacher, as expected, got very angry at him. (It was strange how she managed to keep us threatened, especially in an age where teachers are laughed at on their face, sometimes even made to cry.)

She immediately changed the texture and tone of her face, the very sight of which blocked us from arrogant thinking.

“Why? How many times I have told you that there is no point in coming to the tuitions if you are not going to do the homework.”

“Ma’am actually, I had gone to Nasik, for the last three days for my sister’s wedding. You can ask my mother if you want”

I knew that this was a lie. Not just me, but even the others in our tuition knew what the truth was. But, as much as I wanted to do it, letting his lie out would seem a very cheap thing to do, and something against the sacred norms of the school culture that we had built over the last few years.

Our Ma’am though relaxed a bit in the anger department, but now looked a bit more irritated. A lie was smelled, but it could not be proved.

“That is no excuse. You could take your notebooks to Nasik if you wanted. Next time I don’t want to hear any of this. I personally cannot stand students who do not do any homework.”

“Sorry, Ma’am.” Mohak said in a low tone, and bowed his head down to avoid further interrogation.

‘So, that wasn’t much’, I thought to myself. There were times when Ma’am just refused to teach because of this, and we resume our classes after an uncomfortable silence of 30 minutes.

***

The class resumed and we were asked to do a few sums, prescribed by her. They were the tough ones.

I took out my notebook and started to do them, using all my expertise of the chapter. Once done, I check my answer with the answer in the notebook. The information, told me that my answer was wrong. I checked it again, and quickly formed the conclusion that the answer given in the textbook was wrong.Not me.

But just to check, I asked the tuition scholar, if she was able to get the answer. She said,
‘Yes.’
‘But, I am not getting.’
‘Show.’

Obliging, I showed her the notebook.
Almost magically, within a matter of seconds she pointed out to me a big fat error. No wonder, there was such an discrepancy between my answer and correct answer.

****

After some time, we get respite from this academic experience and go down, where we usually talk fluff about the latest songs, movies and television shows. Sometimes, everyone excluding me also discuss activities occurring amongst the social network of extreme extroverts of our school.

I usually walk quietly, try and stay calm and give a small smile even though I have no clue as to who these people are talking about.

Twelfth (Chapter 1)

(Needs editing. Grammar, spell-check, etc. Will do soon.)

Chapter 1 : School

So, I’m a nice guy really. I get into a lot of tight situations though, like going to the vice principal and all. It happens to a lot of people, but it happens to me even though I’m a nice guy. I have never said anything criminally bad to a girl, never been caught copying, never even locked a boy in the toilet. But if there is a small disobedience of a norm, like scoring low, bad uniform, coming late, etc. then I do it quite regularly. In fact, I am so professional at it, that I am not even scared. Teachers don’t like this, they think I’m arrogant, when actually I’m just an expert. It’s almost become a procedural memory for me, like riding a bicycle; I don’t know how I do it, but I do it well.

So, this fine day. It was the 11th of some month and I was late for school. Here, I saw other late-comers- regulars, like me; first timers, scared and nervous as if they had made a grave mistake by coming in late; and then there were a few other small kids who looked like as if they had no clue as to what was  going on. I was a bit popular amongst the regulars, rightfully so because I was the seniormost person in this elite band of brothers. No sisters have made it here till now.

As soon as I am allowed to enter through the gates, I am noticed by the head boy. He asks me,

“Sameer, you are already late three times this month.”
“Four times.” I correct him. I am not a thief, so why hide?

However, everyone took this as a piece of joke and laughed immediately without any conscious thinking. I didn’t do anything intentionally here, but from the standpoint of the time in which this incident occurred, it looked like I had insulted the head boy.

The vice-principal, Mrs. Subramaniam, saw this and gave me a whole dose of instructional therapy about why my act was worthy of an apology. She probably knew, that I knew that all this is bullshit, but then the thing was that if she didn’t scold me then the head boy would have feel bad. And the head boy, was an expert of sorts (for e.g. me) at kissing ass, in the figurative manner of speaking.

He still felt bad though, because I had got away with a scolding. And he damn well knew that scolding was like candy floss to me. In other words, he expected a suspension for my act of honesty.

~~~~

After this, I went to my class. Once seated, I looked around and winked my eye to couple of people. Early morning ritual basically.

“All those who have not done the homework, please get out of the class?”

A few people got up. One boy, pretty average in class, started to give an explanation to relieve him from the punishment
.
“Ma’am, I have done 3 sums.”
“Why only 3? I will come and do the rest.”
Some girls laughed. What a joke.
The boy went on.
“Ma’am, I’ll do it now, before the period gets over.”
“Okay, sit down and do it. What about the others?”

This way, the others got up and explained their grievances. One boy, who had not done anything said that his textbook was by mistakenlytaken by his partner. The teacher was not impressed by this excuse but she let him sit. At the end, I was the last man standing.

I said nothing at once but after an awkward second of silence, I said politely in a manner that would look least arrogant and cause minimum hurt.

“Ma’am… actually… I don’t know… I mean, no excuse.”

Not many people laughed here. For my classmates, this was a joke that was as old as the hills.

“Get out, then.” she said with an angry intonation. See the guts of today’s students, she must have thought.

I obeyed her command and swiftly moved outside the class. Later, someone will come and tell me that I do all this to attract attention. Just look at their ignorance, I say.

Outside, was a wonderful recreational spot for me, during such painful periods. Amongst other views, I saw a really hot teacher walking in a green saree. She had exposed a lot of her smooth back. ‘What a delicious piece of meat, man’ I told myself, and realised that something had just been aroused from deep slumber. I made a mental note, to use this teacher as an object of my fantasy tonight and masturbate in her memory. She will of course be wearing the same coloured saree and more importantly, the same coloured blouse.

After some time, the bell rang and the teacher came out. I checked the timetable, which was almost like an image in my mind and realised that the next period was Maths. A short sharp pain pierced my heart at the thought.

~~~~

If you are a poet, and in school, you would equate the Maths period with extremely harsh winter. The one where food is low, time runs slow and the only thing that makes us feel good about it is that, this too shall pass.

Our  Maths teacher, Mrs. Das, was the sort of character who wouldn’t bother much if you did not pay attention in her class and think about something else. That said, her ability to induce boredom cannot be ignored.

We play all sorts of games during this period- Hollywood- Bollywood, Hand- Cricket, etc. Games we learnt in 8th standard and looked down upon as ‘kiddo’ games in 10th. But in 12th, the lack of thrill in these boring periods made us rediscover these lost gems. Plus, we were much more intelligent players of this game now.

The other alternatives to waste time included copying sums mechanically and going to the toilet. I personally encashed the toilet coupon pretty often. Once out of the toilet, I took the longest possible route to the farthest possible toilet and walked as slow as possible. In case, I met another junior in the toilet, I used to ask his name, class and everything and transfer some gossip about the teachers. This became a somewhat social exercise.

I found this is a very stimulating and refreshing exercise. Highly recommended.

~~~~

Three more periods passed in an equally banal fashion. Then we had the lunch break. Something, I didn’t really look forward to like other people. You see, mostly the food that I got was bad. And, if once in a blue moon the food was good, I wouldn’t wait till the lunch break to finish it. There used to occur discussions about television and movies and shit like that, but they were never really fun. Just a non stimulating movement of mouths to waste our time.

Even the social activities that occurred in the lunch break were not in accordance to my tastes. There was this girl, Kalpana, who I sort of started liking. Everyone has a crush, she was mine.

Now, liking her was very easy, I mean she was liked by almost 70% of the boys in our class and a dozen more people from the other classes also liked her. One boy, even publicly admitted that he would accept her as his wife even if they both are 60 years old.

She was good looking and all, talked very sweetly and politely, scored well in exams and was always ‘in focus’. Despite all this, she was a source of pain for people like me.

You see, even though I talked to her and she knew the fact that I exist, we were never really friends. Some guys were. And, I used to feel ants running up my ass, everytime I saw her with these boys.

One guy, in particular, Mohak- was a very good friend of hers. Not just her, but he was popular with quite a number of girls. First, I thought his success was a fluke, but then repeated acquisition of friendships with goodlooking girls from other classes, made me realise that he was indeed pretty damn talented at this stuff. It wasn’t beauty or brains, it was something else.

Me, and other unsuccessful people like me, discussed his case often. We did not unlock the mystery, but some conclusions were reached:-

1.) He is good at sports. Girls (lameness personified) fall for this small, little, insignificant virtue.

2.) Bit of a smartass. Cracks okayish jokes which girls find genius. Confident. And yes, he has this certain charm about him when he is at his best.

Not that analysing him made any progress to my equation with Kalpana. In fact, I tried to ignore his thought a few times and focus on the extremely difficult task at hand. But then, here was a case study which could not be ignored if the Science of serenading Kalpana needed to be studied.

(Last edited by me on 31st December 2009)