by Anirban Bose
Dr D’Souza had little choice. ‘Okay,’ he murmured, rapidly revisiting his reassuring routine one last time. ‘But don’t tell the other batches. Otherwise, all of us will be in trouble. I guess the tutorial for today is over. And please, prepare the topic of membrane potentials well.’
Jubilant, everyone started filing out of the room. Some even patted Adi’s back appreciatively.
Adi took another look at the frog, smiled and started making his way downstairs. Halfway down, he realized he had left his journal in the room. He turned and made his way back.
As he approached the room, he heard voices coming from within. He recognized them as Isha’s and Payal’s. He stopped, straining his ears to catch the discussion.
‘Yeah… I think six red roses are too much.’
Then he heard Isha say, ‘No, not a matter of too much; it’s just that my mother has worked really hard and sacrificed a lot to put me into medical college and I shouldn’t get distracted. I’m here to study and I don’t want to disappoint her.’
‘Yeah, that’s true… So what would you do Isha, if somebody gave you six red roses?’
Adi’s heart beat loudly while Isha contemplated her answer.
‘I… I don’t think I’d like it. Anyway, I’m sure no one will.’
Adi was stunned at the relevance of the information he was suddenly privy to. He would have to tell Harsha before his amorous flight suffered a crash landing. He slipped away from the door, turned and walked back towards the room, just as the two of them were coming out.
‘Oh hi, Adi,’ said Payal. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I…I forgot my journal,’ replied Adi casually.
‘Adi, what you did today for the frog was really nice; nice and thoughtful,’ said Isha.
Adi smiled. ‘Well, thanks for helping,’ he said.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said, ‘but I think the poor frog is even more thankful. You saved its life. Hey, maybe if you kiss it, it will turn into a princess.’
They laughed.
Adi’s eyes lingered on Isha for a few extra moments. She looked even prettier up close. And that laughter was pure magic.
He stared after her as she waved goodbye and disappeared through the doors. Inside the glass jar, the frog sat in the same position, statuesque in its terrified stillness but breathing more evenly. Adi carried the tray outside and placed it on the lawn in front of the building. He lifted the glass jar that had held the frog captive. Then, with Isha’s heartwarming laughter still ringing in his ears, he watched the frog leap away and disappear amidst the fresh green grass.
Adi sat with the cards that went with the roses, trying to come up with funny or imaginative quotes for their recipient. After struggling for a few hours he decided to write a special one for Renuka and a generic ‘Have a great Rose Day. It’s good to have you as my friend’ for everyone else.
Well, almost everyone else. He wanted to write something special for Isha too.
He racked his brains to come up with something original for Renuka first. Some of the guys tried to help.
‘How about “your roses are the smelliest”?’ suggested Sam.
‘Man, that sounds horrible,’ said Adi.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Rajeev, laughing. ‘Sounds like you’re describing a fart.’
‘What is it exactly that you want to say?’ asked Toshi.
‘I wish I knew,’ said Adi. ‘I think I’ll know it when I see it.’
Pheru, sitting alone in the corner of the room, said, ‘I feel wonderful because I’ve seen the love light in your eyes; and the wonder of it all is that you just don’t realize how much I love you.’ He paused, surveying the faces frozen in admiration, then explained, ‘Eric Clapton, “Wonderful Tonight”.’
‘Wow!’ said Adi, ‘that’s perfect. Let me write that down.’
Harsha immediately turned and addressed Pheru: ‘Pheru, tell me something also, na. I have to send roses too.’
‘Are you sending six red roses?’ asked Pheru.
‘To Isha,’ he said, smiling happily.
‘You need to fill out six cards?’ said Pheru. ‘That’s going to take a lot of thinking, man.’
Adi studied Harsha’s blissfully happy face with some guilt on his own. Time and again he had toyed with the idea of telling Harsha what he had overheard Isha tell Payal. He had deliberated and dithered, a couple of times coming close to informing Harsha of the potential setback of his six red roses. But something always held him back – something he could not quite pin down. He knew Harsha would be terribly hurt by Isha’s reaction. He realized that as a friend, he had an obligation to alert Harsha. He felt irresponsible and guilty whenever he imagined Harsha’s disappointment.
But he just didn’t do it.
He couldn’t explain his procrastination, either. He wasn’t jealous of Harsha. There was nothing to be jealous of.
Although Harsha had replaced his square steel-rimmed glasses with natty rimless ones, and fluffed his hair with the diligent application of conditioner under Rajeev’s guidance, he had so little to champion his cause, Adi knew he didn’t stand a chance. Harsha’s simplicity, bordering on naïveté, made most people treat him with the sympathy reserved for a village simpleton. And so, Adi was never quite sure what held him back. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that with or without his help Harsha would fail.
Something in him wanted Harsha to fail.
TEN
As a natural extension of his organizational prowess, Praful was chosen to preside over the Rose Day ceremony. He spent the first few minutes taming the microphone’s wails before bringing out the packet of envelopes that contained the cards. Much to the crowd’s voyeuristic delight, Praful decided to randomly read out some of the more interesting messages that accompanied the roses.
He had a flair for the dramatic. His artistic gesticulations and expressive voice put a lot of feeling into those quotes.
‘Sheetal has three white roses. The road to a friend’s house is never long.’
‘…One white and one red for Savita… Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye…’
Everyone clapped and cheered, the red roses generating the maximum curiosity. Their announcement would immediately set the crowd abuzz with speculation about the likely author.
Then came Adi’s turn.
As Praful announced his name, Adi sensed the heightened anticipation of the class. Everyone knew he would get a red rose from Renuka and were hoping that Praful would read a deliciously scandalous card to go with it. Adi began walking down the steps towards the podium, where Praful was going through his list and checking his envelopes. Adi saw him turn towards Manish, who had thus far been handing out the roses, and whisper something. Manish looked surprised and immediately started checking his own list. Praful covered his microphone as they traded hushed discussions and denials. Adi, meanwhile, reached the podium and stood looking around nervously.
Praful reached for the envelope and, avoiding Adi’s eyes, said, ‘Adi gets two white roses.’
The immediate reaction of the class was a few seconds of stunned silence. Then, quickly recovering their senses, some of them began to clap. Interspersed with the polite applause was the distinct sound of muffled snickering.
Adi could feel his heart beating faster and the effort to maintain the grin on his face began hurting his cheeks. He quickly grabbed the envelope with the roses and started walking back to his seat, now twelve rows too high. His legs felt leaden. Confused, embarrassed and nervous, he accosted a hundred stares of sympathy, empathy or morbid fascination by fixing his eyes on his feet during the unbearably long ten-second journey up to his seat. Only when he neared the familiar figure of Sam did Adi look up and slid in next to him with the swiftness of an alley cat.
Adi opened the envelope to look at the cards. Sheetal had sent him one white rose…as had Renuka. He stared at it in disbelief. How could Renuka send him a white rose? He turned to look at Renuka. She sat rigidly stra
ight, staring ahead unfazed.
Sam peered over Adi’s shoulder. ‘What happened…she didn’t send you a rose?’ he asked.
‘A white one,’ Adi replied. ‘I don’t understand it, man.’
Praful announced Renuka’s name and Adi felt his heart sink. As she stood up and made her way towards the podium, Adi prayed fervently that Praful would not read aloud the card that he had sent.
Sam sensed Adi’s anxiety. ‘Don’t feel too bad,’ he said, trying to cheer Adi up. ‘Look at what somebody sent me – a thorn!’
Then, just as Praful announced, ‘Renuka gets two red roses’ over the speakers, Sam passed Adi the card that accompanied the thorn. It read ‘I hope this pricks your hairy, stinky, black butt every day.’
Adi chuckled.
Praful continued. ‘And here is a quote from one of the cards…My feelings for you are like this special rose, It blooms, it blossoms and slowly grows, Its scent drowns any painful past, Its hue conveys my love at last, And like the feeling that lingers, of the special touch, With this, I promise, I love you very much.’
Sam whispered to Adi, ‘I wonder who this person is who knows what my ass looks like?’
Adi began to laugh. Those who had turned to see how Adi would react to Renuka’s roses, were taken aback to see him laughing. Seeing those perplexed faces, Adi laughed even more. Although he had been laughing at Sam’s wisecracks, the whole mix-up now appeared ridiculously funny. The more he thought about it, the more he laughed, garnering even more startled attention. Soon the applause dried out and the entire class was staring at him in confused silence. This made Adi laugh even harder, till he was hysterical with laughter. Finally, he grabbed his stuff and ran out of Anatomy Hall.
By the evening, Adi’s embarrassment returned. He sat alone in his room, reliving the snickering laughs, the pitying looks, the confused stares and the astonished gawks over and over till he couldn’t stand it any more. He decided to head out towards the beach, hoping that the time spent alone would clear some of his confusion. On his door he left a note about his whereabouts and reminded Sam and Toshi to wait for him for dinner.
It was nearing sundown when he arrived at Chowpatty. On the tiny expanse of sand bordering the water, hawkers and tourists jostled for space and jousted for business. Adi watched as the hawkers got into the tourists’ wallets by enticing their kids, jangling their wares tantalizingly close for the tots to admire while the parents tried to drag the screaming children away. Inevitably, after a futile battle with a bawling brat, the parents would end up buying a balloon, or a toy gun, or a ride on a horse. They grudgingly parted with their money, often giving the hawkers a piece of their mind. The hawkers ignored the tongue-lashings with such a flat face that Adi could almost visualize the words bouncing harmlessly off some invisible emotional shield.
Adi sighed, deciding he needed to learn from them. He needed to be able to react similarly to the events of the last few hours. He needed to throw out those questions that kept popping into his head and concentrate on studying. He needed to ignore the anger of a white rose from Renuka, the disappointment of none from Isha, the guilt of not telling Harsha, along with the embarrassment of his behaviour in class. On top of that, every time he thought about Sam’s thorn, he laughed.
‘Can I sit next to you?’
Adi turned around to see Renuka standing behind him. Surprised and unsure how to react, he nodded.
‘How did you find me?’ he asked.
‘I went looking for you. Then someone said there was a note on your door.’
A few more seconds of silence followed.
‘Are you feeling bad?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know what I’m feeling.’
‘I liked your card and rose. They were very nice. Thank you.’
Adi remained silent.
‘You know, your profile looks much better,’ she said. ‘You have a very nice nose.’
‘Look, Renuka,’ said Adi, with irritation. ‘You are wasting your time. I’m really not in the mood for chitchat. And I think you can understand why.’
‘No, I don’t understand why,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’
Exasperated, Adi turned to look at her. ‘What about…about the white rose?’ he demanded.
‘What about it?’
‘I thought I’d get a red one from you!’
‘Adi…calm down. That was your expectation. Not my obligation. Do you remember what I said when you asked me about the roses the other day?’
He stared at her, speechless.
She continued, ‘Look Adi, I’m sorry that I couldn’t fulfill your expectations. I’m happy that you sent me the red rose, but I’m not sure I’m ready to reciprocate yet. I need some time to think things through…and decide.’
‘Decide on what? I thought you had decided already!’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘You said that you would be disappointed if I didn’t send you the red roses. You said you liked being with me…you…you…’ he trailed off, losing his voice in a cloud of anger.
‘That’s true. But I don’t think I ever said I thought of you romantically. I enjoyed spending time with you and I still do, but what does that mean to you, Adi? And what does it mean to me?’
Adi suddenly remembered that someone else had given her a red rose.
‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘Who sent you the other rose?’
She hesitated for a minute before saying, ‘Neil did.’
So many things suddenly seemed to make sense now to Adi. Oh how could he have been so stupid!
‘Let me try and explain it, Adi,’ she said. ‘I met Neil some time back and he is a nice guy too…just like you are, Adi. I like him like I like you. And that’s why I’m so confused… I don’t know what to think. Let’s say we are committed to each other, and after some time you, or I, meet someone else who we think we are more compatible with, what happens then? How do we know who is the one? Can you understand my confusion, Adi…can you?’
She paused to see if Adi would reply. He didn’t.
‘You are a really nice guy, Adi, and I do like you…a lot. I enjoy spending time with you. I enjoy talking to you. I think about you often. But all of that applies to Neil too. And on top of that, Neil is…you know…’
‘He is what?’ Adi asked.
‘He is…kind of…well-settled…you know.’
‘You mean he is rich and I’m not,’ smirked Adi.
‘It’s not that!’
‘Then what is it?’ he asked, enjoying her discomfort.
‘It’s about…it’s about…’
‘Money?’
‘No, Adi! Please don’t cheapen my feelings. I don’t know how to explain it better… Look, every girl looks for security in the future and it’s on everybody’s mind, even if people choose to trivialize it…’
Adi began to laugh.
She looked at him with surprise. ‘What’s funny? Why are you laughing? And why were you laughing like that in class today?’
Adi was about explain, but stopped. Suddenly, his thoughts began to organize themselves like the pieces of a complicated jigsaw puzzle falling into place. The maze of confusion in his head melted like a dissolving fog, leaving him marvelling at the simple task ahead. He felt glad the events of the day had played out the way they had. And he was especially glad he hadn’t warned Harsha.
For the first time that day, he felt really good.
Turning to look at her concerned face, he smiled and said, ‘I’ve got to go back to the hostel. The others will be waiting for me for dinner.’
ELEVEN
Fifteen months had flown by, lost as much in the tests and tutorials as the picnics and rose-days, when Bombay University’s First MBBS exams loomed on the horizon. Thanks to its solemn reputation, this inaugural assessment by the University in the four and a half year’s curriculum, was especially nerve-racking. Conducted with a psychopathic rigour bordering on institutionalized torture, the hallmark of the exam wa
s the agonizingly protracted timetable. Three papers in Anatomy, two in Physiology and, in typical step-sisterly fashion, a solitary paper in Biochemistry waited to challenge them over a ten-day period. The practical exams and viva-voce would follow in the three subjects after a week’s lull, extending the torture by another fortnight. This four-week period promised them hell, and they could think of little else as they began burning the midnight oil religiously. The nagging uncertainty of covering the sixteen-month curriculum in the few weeks that remained, turned time into a precious commodity.
The excitement of Rose Day had settled by now. Everyone in the class accepted that Renuka and Adi had ‘broken up’. Although Adi did think about Renuka now and then, his new-found sense of pride and the burden of the exams ensured that these moments were few and far in between.
Predictably, Isha began avoiding Harsha as though he carried an infection. Harsha even tried explaining himself to her, only to make things worse. His predicament earned him limited sympathy. He looked to Rajeev to guide him through, but Rajeev showed no interest in continuing his tutelage. He was lost in a world of his own, obsessing more about his looks and clothes than either Harsha’s plight or the coursework that remained incomplete. He gazed into a mirror on his table as he studied, looking into it every so often to adjust his hair or prod the pimple on his cheek with his tongue while his adroit fingers squished out its unwelcome existence. His flashy smile and macho good looks had won him some modelling assignments. Many suspected that might have been the true reason for his choice of a medical college in Bombay: his academic performance had done little to buttress the crumbling image of him as the best student from Delhi. He, however, had a ready excuse for his under-performance. The problem was the silly subjective nature of the exams in Bombay.
Although clearly a rationalization, there was some merit to Rajeev’s complaints. The essay-type questions demanded detailed, descriptive answers and, as a consequence, the outcome was directly proportional to the weight of the answer sheets rather than their content. Thus, irrespective of one’s knowledge base or quotient, writing incessantly to fill up pages was a commonly employed strategy to obtain marks. It was a technique that Toshi had turned into a science by using his illegible but beautiful penmanship to great effect. A sound knowledge of the subject was the least important part of getting marks, often becoming a handicap for many. For example, to a question on ‘eugenics’ worth five marks, Toshi wrote a full page of nonsense. He had no idea what eugenics meant, but he filled up the sheet with descriptions like ‘it is a part of genics’ and ‘it is a very important field of study’. He made up sub-headings, underlined them in colour and even drew a small graph, all of which nobody could interpret. Harsha, on the other hand, had read a small description of the term – exactly three lines that explained that it was the application of genetic principles to better the human race – and reproduced that verbatim. It didn’t surprise anyone when Toshi got four out of five, while Harsha only managed one.