‘Bitch,’ I say loftily. Trying to lighten the atmosphere, I joke, ‘Ooh, shall I curse her? Lavisha shall fail in all her exams!’
Nihar almost falls out of his chair. ‘Don’t say that!’ he gasps.
‘I am just kidding, idiot,’ I reply.
‘You shouldn’t kid about such stuff,’ he says.
‘You are the one who is friggin’ weird, Nihar!’ I giggle. ‘But seriously, what’s wrong with Lavisha? You people really need to start respecting me now!’
‘Why? Aren’t you getting enough respect already, Miss Sports Captain?’ Yash inquires.
‘It is sports vice-captain, and no.’
My shining black ‘Vice-Girls Sports Captain’ badge does not guarantee me any respect whatsoever. Even with the glossy investiture ceremony and oath-taking.
In fact, my kind of badge is only respected by pesky middle-schoolers. The older kids think you’re a nerd of the worst kind courtesy the badge you’re wearing on your uniform. Which is the height of hypocrisy, considering they are the losers who began to snivel and cry pathetically when their names weren’t announced and spent the next few weeks bitching about how so-and-so did not deserve the badge.
‘Puh-lease!’ Rika exclaims. ‘Why the hell should we respect you? Because you predict our papers?’
‘Yes,’ I say as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.
‘OK, don’t start squabbling,’ Nim pleads. ‘We haven’t met like this in days. Ira, aren’t you allowed to attend even a single tuition class?’
‘No,’ I answer. ‘Remember what happened the last time I came to the classroom?’
‘So, you need not come for the exams! You can come for the revision sessions and all, no?’
‘You think people won’t wonder why I don’t come for the exams?’
‘That’s true,’ Nim agrees.
Just to impress them, I take out a mighty looking Crack the AIPMT book.
‘What are you doing?’ Rika asks warily.
‘Nothing,’ I shrug in the coolest manner I can. ‘I have to prepare the AIPMT paper. That’s the medical entrance exams paper,’ I explain kindly to a dumbstruck Nihar.
‘I know that,’ he says indignantly.
Feeling all eyes on me, I casually flip to a random page. My fingers run through the page and with an unsatisfied snort, I turn the page. Even Rika can’t help looking interested. My eyes stop at the second page. I read a paragraph and say out loud: ‘About 98 per cent of the mass of every living organism is composed of just six elements including carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen and …’
They’re hanging onto my every word. I feel as if I have achieved a weird sort of victory. I can make their mouths fall open. I can make Rika shut up.
‘a. calcium and phosphorus …’
Nihar is practically salivating and Nim is staring, fascinated.
‘b. phosphorus and sulphur …’ I stop abruptly. After a few seconds, when they realize I have not called out the third option, they all look up.
‘I’m so sorry!’ I gush. ‘We’re supposed to be catching up after so many days and here I am preparing these silly questions.’
‘No, no,’ Nihar insists. ‘It’s fine. You carry on. You must be so busy.’
‘I am,’ I agree. I can’t believe my own voice. I sound so fake!
Rika is still recovering. She takes a deep breath and says in her usual disparaging tone, ‘No wonder Amroliwallah doesn’t want the students to know about you. Nobody wants a lunatic studying with them.’
Before I can respond, Nim speaks up, ‘Rika, that’s rude!’
Pleased with my newfound support, I don’t say anything. I just give a deeply hurt and wounded look.
‘Dude, I’m just kidding,’ Rika answers, slightly taken aback by Nim’s vehement defence of me. ‘But listen, when all the students give their papers won’t they realize that … you know …?’
‘What?’ we ask unanimously. ‘That they’ve already solved these papers!’
We all sit silent for a moment. My mind is a blur as I try to come up with an excuse. I have pondered for hours over this question but in vain. My emotions are eloquently expressed when Nihar draws in a deep breath and says, ‘Crap.’
13
Google is mean. That is all I have to say. I mean, if there is an article on me, I can totally go and see it as many times as I like. Google does not need to tell me that I’ve visited this site twenty times today! Or twenty-six times yesterday!
Actually, it’s not really an article on me. It’s about Amroli’s toppers. But dude, they topped only because of me! I have the right to visit that page as many times as I want to without Google pointing it out.
It’s all over Facebook too. You know, ‘Shivani Verma, Amroli’s is proud of you’ and ‘Amroli’s conquers the world’ type of groups.
Over the past month, I’ve been coming to meet Mr Ass-hok Amroliwallah at least twice a week. I have seen his secretary repeat a deep pink suit twice in one week, caught her looking at him with pure loathing and heard her consulting an astrologer on the colour of the shirt he would wear on the day of the CLAT results. Yet I still don’t know her name. She’s always been Ass-hok’s secretary for me.
‘Ah, Ira,’ he says in his usual manner when I go and meet him a few weeks later. The back of the chair is facing me, as usual. He’s probably trying to come up with some horrendous news to dazzle me with before turning around filmy-style to face me. I sit down, resigned to my fate. A folder is placed strategically in front of me. I touch it gingerly. Even though his back is to me, he will surely know what I am doing. Like that one time on the day before the AIPMT exams when he caught me yawning.
‘See the folder,’ he instructs. I open the folder cautiously and a pile of grey newspaper cuttings falls into my hands.
COACHING CLASS AMAZES ALL
IIT-JEE TOPPER TO BE GIFTED A CAR BY COACHING CLASS
PARENTS RUSH FOR ADMISSION TO THE MAGICWALLAH
‘Do you see my new name? Magicwallah,’ says Amroliwallah in a deeply satisfied voice. ‘Ira, our admission applications have reached an all-time high! Arrey, one person even offered nine lakh to get in! We are like IIT!
‘Well, I am not alone as the Magicwallah,’ he amends hastily, almost guiltily. He must have remembered my mild protest last week about not getting enough credit. ‘We are the Magicwallahs. Aeem I raaiit?’
Since I first met him I’ve been calculating the number of times he uses the phrase ‘Aeem I raaiit’. His average is twenty-seven times per minute.
‘Ira,’ his voice turns serious, ‘tell me. Are you, like me, reaping in the moral satisfaction of using your powers for the benefit of mankind? This is our life! It is beautiful!’
Huh? What’s wrong with him?
‘Anyway, Ira, time is money. Aeem I raaiit?’ he says solemnly and ducks under the table. I sit back, itching to see his under-the-table activities. The usual Big Bazaar packet, his faithful companion, has been sitting empty next to his computer for the past few days.
‘Ira, your exams are coming. Start preparing your papers.’ His voice comes out muffled from underneath the desk. I can see his bottom sticking out as he wriggles frantically. ‘And no hanky-panky.’
I draw in a deep breath. He is referring to last week’s fiasco. Nihar had begged and pleaded with me to give him the next day’s history paper.
Ass-hok emerges from under the table, clutching a bag triumphantly. He pulls off the band holding his hair up and shakes his mane, Bollywood heroine-style.
‘Theek hai?’ he inquires as his hand dives deep into the depths of the spacious Big Bazaar bag.
I nod glumly, feeling like a deflated balloon as I stare at the newspaper clippings of the Magicwallah.
I had told Nihar a couple of questions from the top of my head. I knew the syllabus so well that I couldn’t decide which questions to choose. I’d done that earlier too. Chosen random questions from the top of my head. It had worked. This time, though, the questions di
dn’t come and somehow Amroliwallah had got wind of that.
They all thought I’d been joking. I was ‘let off’ with a strict warning.
Ass-hok looks up at me, his smile frozen. His expression is one of disappointment and he turns the bag upside-down only for a bunch of empty Five Star wrappers to cascade to the floor.
Empty like my claims.
OK, don’t panic. I’m just overreacting.
I barely scrape through physics and I predicted the entire IIT-JEE paper. It is going to be tough work, that’s all.
Like for the math papers, I had pored through millions and millions of textbooks. Even textbooks from other coaching classes which Ass-hok had somehow managed to smuggle in.
It had been time consuming. It isn’t as if math and physics papers are going to have questions copy-pasted from study guides. I had to scour numerous books just to figure out the types of questions that come.
Only then could I predict the numbers and variables for a few of them. Which is a feat, considering I still don’t understand what proving SP S1P = CP2 – a2 + b2 for a point on the hyperbola x2/a2 – y2/b2 = 1 means.
It all just comes to me. Randomly. Sums on things called integration and differentiation. Complex logarithms. So why am I having difficulty in making papers for silly IBSE?
I tried to make a paper arbitrarily during one of my study sessions at tuition. I thought it would be really easy. After all these study sessions I have almost memorized the textbooks. In fact, I am feeling a little bit disappointed. Never in my life have I studied so hard for something.
I want to fare well in my exams because of my hard work. Not because of …
I mentioned it some time ago to Nim. She stared at me for at least a minute and then guffawed, ‘My god, Ira! You are becoming such a nerd!’
So I shut up. I do not want to be a nerd.
‘Iraaa!’ Ma yells out in a cheery voice from the living room. ‘Aisha’s come to meet you!’
I get up and almost run to the living room, thinking I have misheard.
Aisha cannot be here. Aisha knows.
Oh my god, what if she’s come to squeal on me?
She’s kept her mouth shut since Rika’s party. I haven’t met her after that. I heard that she had left Amroli’s but I didn’t have the guts to go and ask her.
It has been so difficult lying to my parents. If Aisha tells them that their daughter has been indulging in all sorts of illegal (OK, not literally) activities and predicting papers behind their backs, they will definitely believe her! They have become increasingly suspicious since they read all those silly articles about ‘pressure on students.’
All of which apply to me in a very twisted way.
‘Hi, Aisha,’ I mutter. Ma is standing awkwardly between the two of us, playing with her long hair. She is obviously used to the Rikas and Lavishas of the world coming to meet me. Not Aisha the Honest.
Aisha never comes ‘just to meet me’.
I raise my eyebrows at Ma, slightly cross. She could have said I’m busy somewhere. And I am busy. The IB exams are going on!
‘Ira,’ says Aisha. I jerk my head towards her. There is an odd note to her voice and whatever happened to Amira? ‘Hi.’
‘Hiii!’ I reply shrilly. For some reason I feel hot and breathless. I lean on the wall next to me for support.
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ says Aisha in that same strange voice. ‘Were you studying?’
All my worries, which a second ago seemed to weigh as much as the earth, flee. I will just tell Aisha that I am studying but obviously I’m always free to chat with her!
And then she will have to leave, her mission unaccomplished, after a few rounds of hi-hello.
‘If you’re studying, it’s OK. I’ll sit with Sujata aunty,’ she informs me just as I am about to give her my sneaky excuse.
‘Sit with Ma?’ I ask, horrified. Whoa! When did Aisha get so smart? There is no way I am going to let her sit alone with Ma.
Both Aisha and Ma are staring at me with raised eyebrows.
‘No, no, come with me,’ I say hastily.
We all stand there gazing at each other’s faces. Aisha looks defiant, Ma seems confused and I am scared to my guts.
Sensing the obvious tension in the air, Ma says jokingly, ‘Why? I am not cool enough for you? Aisha, why don’t you go and sit in Ira’s room? Come, we’ll get something for Aisha to drink.’
The last part is directed at me. I give Aisha a small smile as a peace offering and scoot off behind Ma, praying for my life.
The question of why Aisha has come is the only thing on my mind. Surely this isn’t a social visit.
‘Ira, talk to her properly,’ Ma instructs me as she hands me two glasses of Pepsi. ‘Poor girl, she must be so upset.’
‘Why?’ She doesn’t seem to me to be in any sort of grief.
‘Arrey, she didn’t get into either NALSAR, Hyderabad or NLS, Bangalore,’ Ma tells me sadly. ‘The results came out this morning.’
‘Oh,’ I respond. Aisha really wanted to get into NALSAR. It was her dream. Or at least her parents’ dream.
I go to my room. So this is guilt, I think, well, guiltily.
Actually, no. I’m just being stupid. If Aisha were smart enough, she would have got in.
‘Hi,’ I say again. Aisha is sitting on my bed.
She looks at me but doesn’t smile. ‘I’m going to Europe. For my further education.’
I don’t know how to reply to this. She doesn’t seem ecstatic at the prospect of going to Europe to study. Most people would have died of happiness. I would have posted it on Facebook within minutes. But Aisha is the kind of weirdo who hasn’t even bothered to open a Facebook profile.
‘Oh, that’s nice,’ I say, trying to sound excited and genuinely happy. ‘Where are you going?’
‘European Business School,’ she answers. ‘My parents really want me to go there.’
‘Oh, but I thought you wanted to do law,’ I respond without thinking.
Aisha’s big puppy eyes look out of the window. She says flatly, ‘I didn’t get in anywhere. I mean, I could have got into many places. But I wasn’t taken in where I wanted to go. Anyway, I always wanted to do management. I never understood law.’
Stunned by her point-blank approach, I offer her the forgotten glass of Pepsi, hoping she will drown her sorrows in a single gulp. ‘I’m really sorry.’
Aisha sets down the glass and looks at me coldly. When she speaks, her voice is harsh. ‘Ira, you are so conceited. You think I didn’t get in because all your great friends, whom you so sweetly helped, got in instead of me.’
My mouth falls open. And then it closes again.
While most of me and my brain are shocked at this ludicrous accusation, a small voice whispers, But what if that’s what happened? It could have!
Drawing myself to my full height, I say, ‘That’s not why I apologized. I apologized for what happened at Rika’s party. When I let them tease you.’
Aisha looks at me so furiously that I back away.
‘Let them? Let them, Ira?’ she cries. ‘You are the most conceited person I’ve ever met. You’re so shallow. Your parents are too nice to deserve a daughter like you!’
She has a look of utter contempt on her face and I lash out without thinking, ‘Me? What about you? You are an embarrassment to your parents, fatso!’
For a second, I see hurt and disappointment in her eyes. The next moment they are spitting fire at me.
‘Aisha.’ Ma’s head pops into the room. Perfect timing. I don’t want a repeat of my brawl with Lavisha at Rika’s party. ‘Good you came. You haven’t come over in a long time. And to think we’re neighbours. When I was small, people used to say that neighbours know the colour of each other’s underwear!’
Aisha blushes and seems to have lost her previous anger.
And she thinks I’m a hypocrite.
Ma sits down on my bed, seemingly unaware of the sparks that were flitting in the room seconds ag
o.
Embarrassed by my mom’s free conversation, I retort, ‘That’s because everyone in your neighbourhood was having affairs!’
‘What is this?’ Ma says, looking at our glasses with a crinkled nose. ‘Why have neither of you had your Thums Up? Once in a while, you should have something unhealthy.’
‘Ma! That’s Thums Up?’ I exclaim. ‘I hate Thums Up!’
‘Then give it to me. I’ll drink it,’ Ma replies resolutely. ‘In Big Bazaar you get two big bottles of Thums Up for far less than Pepsi!’
‘Says the woman who buys both bags when she can’t decide between them,’ I counter.
Ma snorts. Looking at Aisha’s full glass, she cries, ‘Aisha! Beta, why haven’t you drunk anything? Abhi you have come, toh ek-do lagake jao!’
Having mortified me to the fullest, Ma finally gets up. Just as she’s leaving the room, her head pops back inside and she asks, ‘By the way, Aisha, have you left any book of yours here? I think I saw some Crack the CLAT book yesterday.’
What is wrong with Ma? Hasn’t she asked me to be nice to Aisha? Surely reminding her of CLAT doesn’t come under ‘nice’?
Then my heart skips a beat. I look around my room frantically. Amroliwallah loaded me with so many Crack the JEE and Crack the CBSE books that I’d wanted to Crack his head. Has she seen a book given to me by Amroliwallah?
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Aisha says immediately. I look at her anxiously. Does she realize that it could have been …?
‘Achcha? I don’t remember where I saw it,’ Ma says, her eyes scanning the room as well. She scratches her head and says, ‘It might have been some other Crack book. Perhaps it was Ira’s book. She studies the entire day! And such fat-fat textbooks!’
Aisha looks at me suspiciously. She knows exactly how fat IBSE books are.
‘Actually, aunty, I think you’re right. It must’ve been Ira’s. Ira, was it by any chance given to you? By someone?’ Aisha asks. Her voice has a malicious edge. What has happened to her? Has her low rank turned her nasty and emptied her of her previous angelic sweetness?
Ma is looking from Aisha to me. ‘Ira’s book? And who will give it to her?’
But Ira Said Page 12