by Durjoy Datta
‘Oh, yeah? Now, I would love to see how you do that. Three chocolate-syrup fantasies are already pending if I remember correctly.’
‘Oh, yes I do, baby! All of them together. Wouldn’t you just love that?’ she said in a low husky voice.
‘Yes, I would, but shut up right now. I am in no position to talk dirty.’ I was dead tired. Mom and Dad weren’t asleep yet. It was a bad time for phone sex and I knew why she had chosen it. She loved to arouse me at times, and in certain places, when I would be absolutely helpless.
‘You want me to shut up? But I was just about to unzip your pants and go down and—’
‘Will you please stop? I’ve got to study!’ I shouted non-angrily. This had to work; she could screw me over the phone, but she would never screw my studies.
‘You have to study? Ha! DCEites study? Don’t give me that.’
‘Why? I do study. I know I am intelligent enough not to study. But then …’
‘Yeah, yeah. Whatever! But seriously, go and study. There is not much time left for the CAT.’
‘As if you study the entire night every day,’ I shot back.
‘I won’t get through, anyway. But you can. Go, study.’ Her words of encouragement always worked for me. Deep inside, there was still a nerd in me who wanted to score the highest marks and be patted on the back by teachers and peers alike.
‘Okay. Will think about that. What are you doing tomorrow? I mean can we go to your place?’ I said. I couldn’t get the dirty talk out of my head.
‘Ohooo! So now you want to make out suddenly? What happened to the studious Deb? I am sorry, but I am a little busy tomorrow.’
‘Don’t play with me. Tell me, I’m serious. If not your place, can we go watch a really bad movie?’
I was already a little turned on and felt she was toying with me.
‘I am serious. I am going to my rehabilitation centre. Something to do with SOL.’
‘What exactly?’
‘You will not understand. Go and study.’
‘I don’t feel like studying. Even if I get through the written examination, there is no way I can clear the interviews.’
‘And why do you say that?’ she asked irritably.
‘Why? There is nothing in my profile, Avantika! Four years of college and I have practically done nothing! No certificates. No extracurricular activities. No recommendations. They won’t just take me because of my score. They need people with hobbies and shit like that.’
‘You have been part of those societies and stuff, won’t that help?’
‘Obviously not. Everyone can see through it. Even the guy from that software firm knew I was bluffing.’
‘Then do something. Pick up something. Anything. Say you love cooking. And that you can cook anything under the sun and mug up recipes. What say? That’s a good enough hobby?’
‘Crap, they will ask me to go and be a cook. And cooking? I would need something that can act as a pretext for bad academic scores. Cooking doesn’t quite fit in.’
‘Writing? Say, blogging? That would be cool. You can say that you weren’t ever keen on engineering, so you spent a lot of time writing on your blog,’ she said.
I wasn’t very interested. I couldn’t see how it could have enhanced my unimpressive profile.
‘What exactly is a blog? What exactly do I do?’ I asked, completing a mere formality.
‘Nothing, just a free website, a log of whatever happens to you or around you. You can write about anything under the sun. A photographer friend of mine has a photo blog. He uploads all his pictures over there. So people go there, read the stuff, see the stuff and comment on how they like it. In short it is networking, but through written stuff or photographs or videos. Even Amitabh Bachchan and Aamir Khan have blogs.’
‘But no one is going to read my blog, Avantika.’
‘Oh, c’mon! Blogs written by normal everyday people have millions of followers. I am not saying you will get to that, but there is no harm in giving it a shot,’ she argued.
‘Whatever. I will think about it. Can we go on a night-out tomorrow? I really want to see you.’
‘I will be too tired tomorrow, Deb. Later, I promise, baby,’ she said.
‘Okay, but I won’t take no for an answer the next time round. I swear.’
‘Sure, tell me one thing. How’s D.E. Shaw as a company?’ she asked.
‘D.E. Shaw? I would give an arm to work for them. They literally bathe you in money. It’s a huge package! And I have heard they send their employees to the US within the first week of employment. They are pampered like anything. I think it came in sixth in the list of the best companies to work with last year.’
‘But isn’t it software? I thought you weren’t interested in software, especially after that day.’
‘That’s because I don’t like working. I will flush toilets if you pay me that much. A fully paid trip to the US? Who’s going to give that up?’
‘Shut up, Deb, it doesn’t work that way. It’s about interest. Like I am desperate to have a career in finance, there must be something in your mind?’ she asked forcefully. She was lying. I knew she would accept anything that would pay her well enough to run away from her family. Lately, her uncles’ marriage-related jabs at her were getting unbearable for her.
‘Nothing. I am not desperate to have a career in anything! Okay, if I give you a choice between McKinsey & Company and Dena Bank, consultants and finance, where would you go?’
I knew I had her. McKinsey paid three times as much as Dena Bank, and all its employees were placed in metros, unlike Dena Bank. For fresh graduates it’s all about the bottom line. Almost no one is looking for job satisfaction or a work–life balance. It’s simple, fire the Human Resources Department, pump the money into benefits for the newly hired and watch young talented kids flock at your company doorstep. But nobody listens.
‘I don’t know what I will do. Tanmay just called, Vernita got through D.E. Shaw. The interviews were held today,’ she said.
‘What? What?’ I spluttered. The same flapping of tongue struck again.
‘Yes. She is through. They are probably sending her to Mumbai. They are yet to give her the location.’
‘I cannot believe this. That bitch—’ I went supersonic.
‘Don’t swear.’
‘Why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I? That slut has a lower percentage than me, and doesn’t know a thing about software. Why do you think she got through?’ I was still way above the audible range; I was expecting hyenas outside my window. This was unbelievable.
‘It’s not her fault if the interviewers liked her.’
‘Don’t give me that. You know she didn’t deserve it! Why is every average being around me suddenly transforming into a genius? People are going to France on internships, someone’s suddenly a software genius, and I am stuck here talking to you. Great!’
‘What do you mean you’re stuck here talking to me?’ Avantika said.
‘I am just angry. THIS IS SO NOT FAIR! She’s such a slut!’ I bellowed.
‘Calm down, Deb,’ she said. ‘And don’t call her a slut.’
‘I am sorry, Avantika. I didn’t mean to say that.’
‘Better. Now tell me. Who is more important? The girl who is crazily in love with you or the job at D.E. Shaw?’
‘Silly question. You … of course.’ Though it would have been better if I had the job to go along with it. We always did the who-is-more-important thing every time one of us was depressed. It had started out as a joke but soon we realized it was effective, and we started using it more often.
‘Keep studying, Deb. There will be scores of off-campus interviews. I am sure you will crack one of them,’ she said.
‘We will see.’
‘You need to put in some effort. Things won’t just happen to you. I am not criticizing you, I am just saying things will happen. You just need to be patient and work towards it. You will never get the pants ironed if you don’t take them off,’ she said.
‘Maybe. Anyway, I don’t need to work. You will do that. I will be home taking care of our kids,’ I said.
‘Is it, Deb? We are getting married? I am thankful you told me that.’
‘Obviously we are! You know I am not into short-term relationships. When have I ever been in a short-term relationship?’ I joked.
‘Yes, I know. You have had just ten long-term relationships until now. Haven’t you?’ she mocked.
‘No, baby, but seriously, this time it is long-term.’
‘Long-term till you get bored of me,’ she complained.
‘I will never get bored of you. You are the only girl I have ever loved. I just lusted after the rest of them.’
‘That’s not very nice to hear. And you don’t lust after me? I am not good enough for you? Or were they better?’ she let out a wholehearted laugh.
‘You are the best. You are a porn star strapped in Avantika’s body! Okay? You turned down tomorrows’ plan, not me! If it were up to me, I would have you naked and locked up. On that note, is there is no way I can see you tomorrow?’
‘I wish I could have, but I can’t. Is that why you are upset with me? I knew it all along! You’re incredibly horny, Deb.’ She laughed out again.
‘Shut up. Any guy with a girlfriend as attractive as you are would be as horny as I am! I love you, and you’re my little porn star. By the way, I have decided the names of our kids too. We will have around seven of them, five girls and two boys and hopefully no hermaphrodites—’ I was interrupted.
‘You can keep all that nonsense to yourself and study. Don’t make a long face when others beat you in the placements scene. I am serious, Deb. Go study.’
‘Okay. I will.’
I didn’t like people beating me but even then, I wasn’t doing anything to change that. Trying to change it also meant poking at the beehive—failure. Failing when you don’t put in an effort always hurts less.
Even if you win the rat race, you still end up being a rat … okay, maybe a rich fat rat.
Avantika always made sure I never lost hope.
But I was gutted that day. After Vernita and I had drifted apart, I always looked at her in contempt. If given a choice to kill six people on earth, I would pump all six bullets into her. She, too, left no stone unturned to make sure my life was hell. Her constant bitching about me to our classmates and common friends didn’t do any good to our soured relationship either. Since she was a girl, a girl most people liked, people believed her easily. I tried to give back in equal measure. We were becoming obsessed with screwing each other over. She always had the upper hand.
Shawar was not making my life easier either. He called me up numerous times from different numbers, but I never picked up his calls. Avantika asked me to get myself a private number, the kind where you can bar your incoming calls, but it was too much of an effort and I wasn’t connected enough to get one.
‘The hair is fine and you look great. Trust me,’ I reassured Avantika for the millionth time as she brushed her hair again and tucked in stray strands of hair behind her year. McKinsey & Company was on campus for their interviews. Obviously, she was quite nervous. This was her shot to run away from a potential uneducated businessman husband and she was determined to give it everything she had.
The placement season had started at SRCC and, shockingly, the line-up of hiring companies was better than what was scheduled for DCE that year. It hadn’t even had a placement cell till a few years back! I was disappointed at their blistering progress, as my college wasn’t making any.
College life had treated Avantika well. Especially after she kicked her drug habit and got clean. It did not have a hostel, though she lived in one a few kilometres away from her college. It was a hostel for rich kids and everything was taken care of. That was in stark contrast to the DCE hostels where students used a bedsheet until it turned grey and went without food for days on end. DCE hostellers could be ideal candidates for any Man vs. Wild episode because their bodies were used to eating and digesting horrible food at the hostel mess.
Her hostel, though, was perfect. Situated bang in the centre of Delhi University, she never ran out of places to hang out. Tom Uncle’s Maggie Joint was where Avantika and I spent most of our daytime dates. We loved going there. Sharing hot swirling noodles with Avantika under the open sky was one of my favourite things those days. I am not sure she liked it as much. The joint was bang opposite Miranda House, the college with notoriously smart, pretty women. Avantika never liked the girls from Miranda House, Jesus & Mary, and Lady Shri Ram College. They were potential threats.
‘Will I make it?’ she asked nervously.
‘You will make it. How can they not take you? Look at you! You’re cuter than a mash-up between a little child and a cute puppy.’
‘That’s not qualification enough, I guess,’ she argued.
‘Don’t ask me, then. I am the barred one.’ I couldn’t help being sarcastic. I used to get pissed off and lose my mind whenever our conversations hovered around placements. Even Yogi and Viru had managed decent jobs. The companies didn’t offer great salaries, but any company was good enough for them, given the huge number of papers they had failed, the state of their intestines and their smoke-battered lungs.
Avantika would soon join their league and that wouldn’t be comforting either. She was my girlfriend and she wouldn’t judge, but I didn’t want to be the only loser around. Shrey would be in the same league as mine, jobless and clueless, only he didn’t care. It would be a long time before I could start applying for off-campus placement interviews and I wasn’t too hopeful about that either.
‘Oh. Never mind. You will get a better job than all of us,’ Avantika said as she checked out her pointy-black-witch shoes. She stood as tall as I was. She would look great in those. Just those. I often wondered if it was just me who thought dirty all the time.
‘I’ll have a better job than you? Yeah, right. That’s easy for you to say. You will be employed in a matter of minutes.’
‘Oh, shut up. You are a blogger now. No one knows, your blog may become famous and all, you might end up richer than all of us.’
Avantika had created a blog on her mail account and invited me to write on it. She pestered me to keep writing and uploading stuff on it regularly.
‘Yes, how can I forget that? The blog, which I stopped writing after the first few blog posts. The same one you trashed!’
‘I didn’t trash it. I just said I felt that it was a little boring and dragged in parts,’ she laughed out.
‘Dragged? I wrote about my school life, damn it. I thought it was heart-wrenching and honest. Was that a drag for you?’
‘I am not sure what I have to say now,’ she said, biting her nails and yet winking at me.
‘Whatever you say, I got about forty-five comments on that post!’
‘Whatever, Deb! All your stupid comments are filling my mail box up. And I don’t really like it when you write about your crushes on your blog. I hated that blog post where you ranted about Surabhi, the girl you had an immense crush on. Even that silly blog post had like twenty comments.’
The blog had her mail ID on it. All the comments reached her ID, not mine, but I never had the drive or interest to change it. And I didn’t know how to.
‘Avantika.’ The placement coordinator shouted her name and called her in.
‘Best of luck.’
‘Thank you,’ she said and rushed in, brushing her hair again. She looked fabulous.
I prayed for her to do well. I knew she would get the job and felt a little sad about it. I felt left out. Avantika, Tanmay and Vernita were busy making something out of themselves while my future kept looking bleaker. I pushed out those negative thoughts and concentrated on the more important things in life. I looked around to see everyone dressed to entice, in short black skirts, stockings and stilettos. It helped calm my nerves.
I loved coming to SRCC. Avantika and I had spent a lot of time in its libraries, front lawns, Irfan
’s and the cooperative store. I had more attendance at her college than mine. More people knew me here. I missed my own college fest but never missed hers—Crossroads. Avantika got me passes to every fest in Delhi University, a lot of those out of bounds for DCE students given their history of getting into drunken brawls and getting the police involved. For a college full of nerds, we were surprisingly belligerent and short-tempered.
Her interview lasted only fifteen minutes.
‘Hey, how did it go?’ I hugged her as she came out of the room.
‘It went fine. What did you do all this time?’ she asked. I knew her interview had gone great. Had it not, she would have cried her way out. She was unbelievably child-like when it came to anything about her career. Even a bad rap at coaching classes would drive her to tears.
‘Nothing, just some bird watching. It’s not as if you are the only good-looking girl in SRCC.’ I winked at her. You would be surprised at how strikingly beautiful most of the girls studying at SRCC were. Most of them were stinking rich and dolled up every day before coming to college.
‘Bird watching, eh? That’s not very exciting to hear,’ she said, making a fake sad face.
‘You tell me. What did they ask you?’
‘The usual. They got stuck to Spirit of Living. The guy himself is a part of it, so it was pretty easy! Plus, I think they liked me. Now would you call me a slut too?’ she winked at me.
‘Obviously not. But that doesn’t make Vernita a non-slut,’ I said while looking at a girl who just stepped out of a car.
‘Who are you looking at?’ she asked, turning in the direction I was staring.
‘She is hot, isn’t she?’ I pointed out to the girl. She was dressed impeccably in a knee-length skirt, half of her face was covered with humungous shades, her hair was done up, and she walked quite comfortably in her bright red stilettos. I think it was a Mercedes or an Audi she stepped out of. All big cars are the same to me: big cages of metal I would never be able to afford.
‘That’s our senior. She works at Deloitte. Had a super-rich boyfriend, took her to Goa and stuff, so out of your league.’
