by Gabbar Singh
“Do you play?” the Austrian asked. “Depends on the game. Depends on the stakes. I have played a few games here and there. In India, there is a month where everyone gath- ers and plays cards. It is rather entertaining- in a dark sort of way. There are these lavish homes decorated with plush furniture. Kids losing more money than they will probably earn in the next one year. The ironic part is, regardless of whether you win or you lose, everyone ends up in the same place.”
“What do you mean same place? You either win and come out with more money or you lose and your wallet is significantly lighter.” “For the winners the night is: happy, drink, play, win, celebration drinks, and then drunk. For losers the night is: happy, drink, play, win, loose, wallow via drinking, and then drunk. In the end everyone is high. Or as you say- drunk.”
Once again the Austrian had no response; what she said sounded plau - sible but the way she said it was rather blunt. “I don’t think the game I had in mind will end that way. We are not allowed to carry alcohol on the train…and I didn’t bring any paper bags.”
“I am glad. I hate card parties. What game do you want to play?” “The game is German but the cards are French. One of the few times we cooperate. There are 20 cards: Ace, 10, King, Queen, and Jack. Each card has a different value.
Points
Ace 11
Ten 10
King 4
Queen 3
Jack 2
“Remember the points. If you have a king and queen of trumps you can score 40 points. If you have a king and queen of non-trump you can score 20 points. To win you need 66 points. The rest…you will figure out as we play.”
“Shall we begin?” he asked his friend in German. “You will not explain the other rules? She will not even know whether to keep her cards face up or face down. There is no point in playing a game like that.” His friend responded in German. He turned his attention to the girl, “protect your lone 10s. If you get a bad hand, limit the other player’s game points. If you have a good hand, close the deck early. To close the deck you must say ‘halt’s maul, arschloch’. Also, take advantage of dead suits. Do you understand?” Without waiting for her to respond he turned back to his friend. “Let’s start.”
“Shall we ask her to put her money in?” the Austrian asked his friend in German.
“She won’t. I can tell. We will bet against her. How good do you think she is?”
He paused to size her up. She seemed intelligent. But in cards, intelligence didn’t matter. It required: 70% luck, 10% gut, and 20% skill. “I will put in 150 Euros.” “You think she is worth that much?” he retorted with a half cheeky smirk.
300 Euros were taken out and kept on the small green plastic side table. The girl looked at the six 50 Euro notes.
“I don’t have 150 Euros to bet.” “It’s okay. We are betting against you and the American. If you lose, my Austrian friend will get the loot.”
“Then won’t you have an incentive to lose? Also, you are betting on me and I have no stake?” “Suggest one,” the Austrian responded.
“We shall split. If I win, I get 75 Euros.”
“And if you lose?”
“You wanted to sleep? You can have my seat.”
“Ordnung. I will deal the cards. Always keep tab of your points. Do not ask me my score and if you say your score aloud you might as well sit on the floor between the compartments,” the Austrian started to shuffle the entire deck. He placed the pile face up. The first card visible was a Nine of diamonds.
“I thought you said we play with 20 cards. You just shuffled 52.” “That is because my friend is an arse,” the other Austrian said. Quickly flipping through the stack of Coca Cola printed cards, he took out the suit of Ace, 10, King, Queen, and Jack. He placed the 32 cards face down on his lap and handed his friend the smaller set. With a slight smirk, the Austrian shuffled the deck and then deals one card to himself and one card to the girl. This process went on until both of them had exactly three cards. He then took the top card from the stack and kept it on the plastic table. It was a king of red diamonds. “Not too valuable.” He then proceeded to deal two additional cards to each of the players.
“Are you ready? I am the dealer. So it’s your trick first” “My trick?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
“I thought you played cards? You must be familiar with the…how to say, wortschwall.”
“Wort-s- wall? The verbiage is different in India ie. khelo/dalo. I am as- suming that trick means: it is my move first.”
“Yes. Sure.” he said, exasperated. She looked at the stiff pieces of paper in her hand and could not remem - ber the point values. “Ace, 10, King, Queen, and Jack—that’s the order,” she said to herself. Her cards were average. Mostly kings, queens, and jacks. It was unlikely that any of those cards would get her points. She nervously placed a Jack of diamonds face down.
The Austrian looked at her expression of uncertainty and showed her the card he would have put down. He took both. “The trump is diamonds. She should have just swapped the cards. I would have still won the set. But I would get an extra two points,” he said in German.
The Austrian took a fresh card from the top of the pile. The girl saw him and followed. She got a better card. Her first Ace, the most valuable sign in this game. But it should not be played yet. The trick to these games was patience. People tended to bet early to win quick points. Slow and steady. She reminded herself.
The Austrian put down a king of clubs. Before her card touched the table, he said, “I’d like to announce a marriage.” He shows her the Queen of Clubs. With that the Austrian wins another set and another 26 points. There are only 5 cards left in the deck. The Austrian has 41 points. She has none.
“Either she is not lucky and got a shit hand or she is stupid,” the Austrian whispered to his friend.
“Or you were a bad teacher. Since you are winning- it appears to be the season of miracles. There is always a first,” his friend retorted. “Halt’s Maul.” She put an ace face down. He put a 10. Her point. Two more rounds and the side deck was exhausted. The rules of the game changed to become more competitive.
“You have to put down the card of highest value,” the Austrian ex- plained. “Why?” she asks. “Why? Because it is the rule. I don’t make them. I follow them.”
“Typical. Germans…Austrians…they are all the same. So much empha - sis on order, discipline, and structure. I don’t understand it. Why can’t I play with the cards I want to?”
“Order is not mandatory. But it keeps things civilized. Without it, we would all be barbaric. Like the Italians or the Greeks.” “We don’t have rules in my country. Actually we do; it is just that no one ever follows them. Yet everything seems to function Fine. Organized chaos.”
“Fine. The word you used was fine. In Austria, we don’t like that word.” “Sorry should I have said—Fun, Spontaneous, Unexpected?”
“I think you were looking for—Irritating, Inefficient? I heard when Bill Clinton came to India, members of parliament took off their shoes and banged them on the desks. Then again, it is also said that when your Prime Minister speaks, shoes are often thrown at him.”
“Not necessarily true. Anyway, all these things are done with the spirit of entertaining. We have this system in India. ‘All is Well’. Just keep remind- ing yourself of that and all will be well.”
“I wanted to go to India once. I thought about it. The French particularly rave about the madhouse. They keep going on and on about the spirit and the energy. But I think it is all a bit barbaric. Bottles of energy waiting to explode inside 1 billion people.”
“And so what do you do? Sit back and live a Pleasantville life like ev - ery other person. What is that German song? I think it’s by Marteria… Kids?
Everyone’s got a job- I’ve got boredom! Nobody’s up to smoke, drink, party anymore… Everybody’s playing golf, driving a Passat Nobody’s tattooing Wu-Tang on their ass’”
“Ahh yes. I remember after hearing it, I t
hought about getting Wu-Tang Clan tattooed on my ass… and then I realized that I had my own sense of fun that did not involve sitting on the sofa smoking the whole stuff alone and saying Peng! Peng! Peng!”
She chuckled. “I’m glad you are literate in German music. It is refreshing. Whose turn is it? I have forgotten the points.”
“Of course you have. It is my turn. Remember- highest card.” He put down his card. It was a 10. The round went to her.
“She is catching up,” his friend retorted in German as he opened a bag of salted peanuts. “Its not a race.” The Austrian replied.
His friend turned to the girl. “Do you want some?”
“Yes please. I haven’t had nuts in a long time,” she replied.
His friend handed her the bag but did not respond. He peered out of the train window. Everything was still pitch black. He could see the faint outlines of trees and mountains. For some reason they appeared darker than the sky. A few more moments passed in silence.
“Sometimes, I think we should take these train rides in the morning. We would actually get to see the countryside and where we are going,” the Austrian friend said.
“Is the Eastern European country side as beautiful as the west?” she asked. “More. Western Europe is too commercial. Everyone sees the post card images of Spanish beaches and French Alps. You should take the train through the Petrads or to Innsbruck.”
“You have explored Europe well.” “Yes- but only Europe. My friends have never wanted to venture outside of the continent. They say everything one can possibly want to see is already here.”
“Seems a bit farfetched. If you haven’t seen anything beyond Europe, how would you know whether you are missing anything or not?” “I guess…but when I am on a train, I just want some peace and quiet. My surroundings end up blurring into a canvas like a Jackson Pollock painting.”
“Peace? Clearly, you have chosen the right companion.” A hint of a smile appeared on the Austrian’s face. He quickly suppressed it, as if to hide any emotion that would reveal a reality beyond thegrouchy disposition he had been portraying through the evening.
“If you two ladies are done chattering, can we get back to the game?” The Austrian said impatiently.
Ace. Queen. Her point. 10. King. Her point. Each player had two cards left. The Austrian paused. All he needed was 1 more point. Just one trick. That was all. She was playing her cards well. She started off with the weaker cards and collected the stronger ones. She didn’t use them. She held onto them as if waiting for the right time. But there were only 2 more tricks left. He waited for her to place down her card.
She was undecided. The problem was- she could not remember how many points she had. Actually, she didn’t remember the point system at all or the phrase to end the game. Arschloch. She certainly could not take a chance. What if she was short of the 66 points and could have won the game with the next 2 tricks. No. It would be better for her to place her cards down and wait.
While she was thinking, the Austrian turns to his friend “I am hungry. How long till we reach? The Hungarians have perfected bakeries. The French get it all wrong. Too much butter and cream. If it was not for the amount they smoked they would all be fat.”
“Few more hours. But I still think we should have come for Sziget. It is the main reason why everyone goes to Budapest.” “Budapest is a nice city to explore. Like Turkey mixed with Austria. And as you said, the food is excellent. But I guess if you just want a cheap pretty party spot, you might as well go to Prague. The Czechs are less depressing than the Hungarians.”
“Nothing like the Viennese.” They looked at each and burst into roaring laughter. Palms were slapped, shoulders curled forward, and bodies were hunched. Even the girl looked up a bit startled as the “Haa” sound bounced off the four walls to create a multiplier effect of the laughter.
“Shut up assholes!” The American squinted and slurred. It seemed as if he had finally awoken. He leaned in. Looked around at the people surrounding him. They were all gazing at him in confusion. He got up. Smiled. Turned over both cards. And took 75 Euros from the table.
***
16. The Lost Cause
Krishnaroop Dey
Crossing off dates in the calendar filled me with a sense of dread as the days to my indoctrination numbered. I was enrolled to a Cause and the horrors of its training awaited me in two days. It was a sudden and unex- pected shift from being sprawled calmly on my couch enjoying the better pleasures of life aka post board-exam vacations, watching the reruns of a Bollywood movie without being of any inconvenience or menace to the world, when my parents barged in asking questions about the life and the universe, finally leading to my future.
I had often fancied archaeology but they feigned ignorance about it. Instead, they suggested engineering, a suggestion which in ten minutes turned into a decree that sealed and bonded onto what now were the ruins of my archaeological dreams.
Later, I came to know what had prompted in them this sudden urge to decide on my future, It was the traffic signal at the main square of our remote town which had become a centre of attraction with four huge billboards adorning it, all guaranteeing success. Boldly proclaiming their swanky infrastructure – most probably just a white board with a marker, and their esteemed faculty –a bunch of scholars with a mid-life crisis. Their past records that none could verify for all four boards had the pic- ture of the same fellow having cracked the exam – a mystery the world was still coming to terms with. Why would someone want to study the same thing four times?
He didn’t look like any of the fellows I had been to school with; he had a mane of hair over his face, his glasses were askew, the remaining visible parts of his face all spotty and that expression of having lost a childhood. The billboard, though, had seduced my parents into making me study to pass an entrance exam to get admitted into a place I had no idea of.
Four days later we sat in front of a Man in a suit. I have always noticed how they tend to leave an impression, be it the lead speaker in our school functions or my neighbor in his coffin, the suits would bode well with the importance of the occasion. Two days earlier we had heard him at a seminar where his voice boomed over the cheap surround system, as he fumbled his way in the stage through the maze of wires connect- ing the various acoustics. His sermon espoused targeting goals having proper aims, with anecdotes spread over mythical heroes of archery and their pinpoint precision although nobody mentions the unfortunate tar- gets of this precision. He later elaborated on the Cause and the intended destination it leads to.
For the record, that was the first time I heard of IIT – a word which was to become central to my existence for the next two years. This was the place where only the most courageous at heart, the purest of souls, the prototypes of intelligence are permitted. A place that rewards those who persevere and ignores those who reek of mediocrity.
However, I was wary of any propaganda after recently having seen a documentary on the cons of world wrestling entertainment that had marred an important part of my childhood, and made me lose my faith in humanity. I would, nowadays, question everything and was wonder- ing if it could be a full time job. The Questioner – fed, watered and fully clothed.
“You.” Suits voice reverberated in the air-conditioned room as his gaze pierced at me, bringing me back to the present. A huge cupboard filled with books, all of them having the word IIT on their covers, was behind Suits. The harassed achiever from the billboard too had his framed pic- ture behind, this time in an overtly uncomfortable embrace with Suits.
“I know you have it in you,” said Suits to me. “You just need the right focus, ample amount of dedication and you could be molded into an achiever. You have to believe in the Cause. You have the attitude; you just need the right push.”
On hearing this, my father’s face beamed. In the markets of the educa - tion system, I had been until then only an above-average stock and now I was being considered a game changer. It was here I knew that anything else I di
d was never going to please him.
As the day to my joining the coaching institute neared, the rumours sur - rounding the Cause increased in size and complexity. They ranged from weird (people forsaking all kinds of hygiene including brushing teeth and shaving to save time) to bizarre (people walking on burning pyres to reach paranormal levels of motivation) to utter outlandish (a few chosen ones trained in a clandestine underground facility near the deserts of Rajasthan, akin to area 51 in Roswell where alien research is conducted) to crack the entrance exam.
At long last, I found myself in the classroom sitting on a wooden bench with my hands on a notebook on a wooden desk that was at a higher altitude than my butt. I could sense an aura with which the Cause had gripped a significant portion of my age group. Sitting in a corner was the winner of the half-marathon from our school in full formals, while on the other corner sat the editor of our school magazine, with ‘Concepts of Physics’ lay open before him. Both of them staring intently at the white board hoping it would reveal formulae that would forge a path into fantasyland.
Suits walked into the classroom after a while with a grin pasted on his face, and distributed bags and stationary to everyone, the first phase of our indoctrination. It reminded me of the time the local hockey associa- tion, who in their efforts to promote the game at the grassroots level, had distributed sticks to children of theslums. That they started fighting with it the next day was a totally different matter altogether.
Suits started to speak after the ceremony. Even without a microphone, he manipulated the acoustics with the efficiency of a cow in heat. “These are the two most important years of your life.” The grin had turned into an expression ofseriousness. Somehow I managed to control myself from snorting. I had heard people say this to me during my tenth standard while I played Delta Force on my computer, like a junkie who found his next hit. I wasn’t angry: why did they have to use ‘most’ if they were going to use it again after a year.