Of Course I Love You!: Till I find someone better… (6 page)

‘Why did he dump her?’

‘No idea. Nobody knows. That’s the way those rich bastards are. They pamper you and promise you the world and then dump you without a reason.’

Now, Avantika started to sound more human. Somebody had dumped
her
. The guy had to be a freak. Vernita and I talked a lot more about her on the way back. Avantika had wanted to take up engineering but her parents had different plans for her. They wanted her to get married as soon as possible. She had fought her way through the years since she turned eighteen. Through rough relationships, hostile parents, drugs and alcohol. Her parents knew nothing about it. They had gotten used to the snubbing and vice versa.

It was strange to see how little they cared about her. They knew everything that Tanmay did, but, shockingly, they had no idea about Avantika’s addiction. She had been a methamphetamine junkie. Ice, as it is popularly known. The first and only time Yogi and Viru used it, the high had lasted twelve hours—more than
that of cocaine and LSD combined. They had wisely stayed away from it ever since. The trips often scar users for life.

This was 7 April 2007. The first day I met her.

‘Don’t tell me!’ I exclaimed. ‘I always knew it was
you
. It had to be
you
. This isn’t real. I don’t know how to thank you.’

‘Yes, it was me,’ Smriti murmured.

It couldn’t be Smriti. It was a shimmering Tissot watch with a huge blue dial. The watch must have cost her a fortune! I had always wanted one. Or more.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Do I like it? Are you crazy? I am already in love with it. I’ve always wanted one of these.’

She hugged me as soon as I said this.

‘Aw! You’re so cute,’ she kissed me. ‘Happy six months’ anniversary!’

Six months’ anniversary? Wait. What?

It was the first time I was celebrating such a thing. It was only April and I felt like I had been with her since puberty—the good old days when hormones raged. Things had changed since then. Now even if she dressed up in leather, it would hardly make me unzip. Mannequins aroused me more. She had been around all these months despite the torrid time I gave her. I had ignored her on the grounds of illness/depression/bickering mom/friend troubles … the list was endless.

‘Same to you. Sorry, I couldn’t get you anything,’ I said. I thanked god I hadn’t. A hundred-rupee coffee mug with her name printed on it wouldn’t have appealed to her for sure.

‘It’s okay; it’s not for the anniversary. I just felt like buying it for you because you have been a great boyfriend.’

‘And you have been a great girlfriend, the best a guy could ever ask for,’ I said. If only I could tell her how much I wanted her hands off me while I was driving. One scratch on the car and Dad would kill me. I wondered if, in such a
scenario, I could sell off the watch to get the car repaired and avoid getting beaten up.

‘Thanks, there was something you wanted to tell me, Deb. What was it?’

‘Did I? I don’t think so.’

For the last few days, I had been preparing the ground to tell her that we should end the relationship because it wasn’t going anywhere. But the damned watch was too beautiful to go ahead with the plan. What was I supposed to
tell
her? That I really wanted to break up? Tell her that she had been clingy for the last few months and I couldn’t take it any more? Breaking up that day would have meant losing the watch. And
that
was unacceptable. I had earned it by being a
great boyfriend
.

‘Love you.’ She rested her head on my shoulder and snuggled.

‘Love you, too,’ I reciprocated and steadied the steering wheel. The watch gleamed in the light from the streetlamps.

It was getting scary. I never thought Smriti would ever be like those girlfriends who save for months together to surprise their boyfriends with gifts such as an expensive watch. I loved her, I thought. I could.
I had to
, at least for a while. She wasn’t bad.

The watch was beautiful.

It was late at night and I had just gone to bed after stressing out on how I could get rid of the girl I had labelled the
best girlfriend ever
when my phone rang. The same ringtone is more annoying when it’s a person you don’t want a call from.

‘Hi, Deb, guess what?’ Vernita blared on the phone.

‘Not interested. Let me sleep, witch.’

‘Yup … you got it. I talked to Avantika about you and she isn’t
interested
. She found you really dumb … and ugly, too, as far as I could make out.’

‘Same here. I am not interested in her either. Go tell
her
that.’

Click.

I hoped she would not tell her. I was right then: Avantika
didn’t like me. I hated Vernita for proving me right. Avantika had seen me exactly as I was—
dumb and ugly.

I didn’t let that bother me as I had my placement interviews coming up and I was not in a position to waste my time on girls I found desperately short on grey matter and the ability to judge great guys. I tried hard but Shrey didn’t buy
this
explanation.

I didn’t want to talk about it and distract myself from the most important month of our time in engineering college. Placement is the one thing that is always on the minds of engineering students right from the time they enter college to when they leave it.

What about after college? Where are you placed?

These questions needed to be answered. The sooner the better. It is why we all took up engineering.

Though, I must mention here, Shrey was more worried about whether there was a better sex life in management schools in India or engineering colleges abroad. He had to make sure he made the
right
decision after college.

It was May and it was my first on-campus job interview. Four years of hard work or mucking around came down to this very moment. If you clear the interviews to a great paying job, no one cares how badly you might have screwed up your college academics. The tension in the Training and Placement Department was palpable. There was a presentation by the Human Resources Department of the hiring company of which I heard nothing. Nobody asked the question I wanted them to ask—what would the crowd be like? Everyone was busy counting how much they would get to spend, and were trying to find their way out of the winding lanes of Cost-to-Company, which sometimes accounted for the space you occupied in their office. Or the toilet paper you used. Anything to make sure the employees stay poor.

There was a written exam, which people found rather easy. Most hopefuls had their brilliant friends taking the exam on their behalf.

‘Best of luck, ass. Do well,’ Vernita said.

I texted Smriti saying I was busy in the presentation and would not be available for the next few hours or so. She had forgotten about my interview and I was not going to accept an excuse that we had not talked about
it
in over a month. She had not wished
me luck. She was not serious about the relationship. She wasn’t serious about my career, my future. I, of course, loved her and she was letting me down repeatedly. Things weren’t looking good for our relationship. It couldn’t go on like this.

‘And we need a treat when you get through!’ Shrey added.

‘Shrey, I am telling you, there is still time. Why don’t you at least try to sit for it? They hire everybody. Couldn’t you at least fucking try?’ Vernita asked.

For Shrey, it was the best shot at getting hired. With a lowly percentage like his, this was the only company that would take him. But he had a strong reason against trying out for the interview. ‘My shirt isn’t ironed and I have nothing to wear. If you think they would still take me despite a crumpled shirt, I am ready to give it a shot,’ he had smirked. He believed that companies should hire on talent, not marks and crisp white shirts. His laxity and his ideals were not only weird and baseless, but often self-destructive.

‘Vernita is right. You should give it a shot. Even if you don’t get the job, you can keep it as your back-up plan,’ I added.

‘I don’t want to. It is not about my shirt being unironed. I just don’t want to sit for it. I am not interested,’ he said. All three of us knew it was about
the formals
. And his silly ideals.

‘Whatever, Shrey. I don’t know why you act so smart,’ Vernita quipped.

‘I act smart? Why don’t you sit for it, then?’ Shrey retorted.

‘I have better options. I have a better percentage, and unlike you, I don’t have any back papers, get it?’

The HR guy appeared and called out some names for the interview. I was the third person to go in. I was nervous.

‘How do you know I don’t have any options? You should just shut up about things you don’t know,’ Shrey said.

‘And you want to tell me that you know things? Fifty-two per cent? Eight back papers? You’re amongst the lowest scorers in class! That is how you know things?’ Vernita asked. You could always count on her being a big mouth.

‘Oh, so our college marks tell us how much we know about
things? You know everything about everything? I know enough about the things I should know about. At least I don’t go around with guys thinking it is
true
love.’

‘Now that’s totally off topic,’ she protested. ‘And my relationships are none of your business, and they are a lot more sorted than yours.’

‘Sorted? What about Varun? Did you know he wasn’t in love with you while you went around town telling everybody how into him you were?’ Shrey asked. He had won round one and was talking nonsense.

‘I don’t want to talk about it. At least I don’t say I love Tanmay and sleep around with others.
You
want to tell me what love is? Go and try to explain that to Vandana. The girl you claim you love but have been cheating on since DAY ONE!’ she shouted.

Round two had begun. This was getting ugly.

They were doing a good job of keeping my nervousness at bay. I was called in. They left and I could see them taking different routes out of the T&P Department.

I took my seat and was greeted by a smiling, middle-aged man on the other side of the table. We shook hands. I was already sweating. His bald head shone.

‘Let’s start?’ he asked and I nodded.

‘Okay, Debashish, which computer languages do you know?’ the interviewer asked. He was still smiling.

‘I am afraid none, sir,’ I answered, trying to sound confident.

‘Why do you then expect an opportunity to work with us? Why should we choose you over the students from the IT department? They are better suited for the job, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘See, you understand. Then why you?’ he leaned over the table and stared at me. I felt like squeezing the biggish blackish mole on his right cheek, which had a few strands of hair jutting out, as if trying to escape the blackness of it. Moles are such fascinatingly disgusting things that you can never take your eyes off them. No matter how hard you tell yourself not to stare at them, you end up doing just that. Especially if they come with hair, like this one did.

‘I believe I can learn languages and as long as I have the conviction to learn and the enthusiasm to contribute to the company I admire, I am sure I will prove to be an asset to the company.’

Was I not dying to work in a company that would require me to sit for fourteen hours a day in front of a blank screen, typing out some brainless codes with another twenty thousand nondescript people with me?

‘But that’s nothing different from the other aspirants who have applied. Why should we take you?’

Because I am an average guy and your company thrives on average people like me? Because your company hires anybody and everybody in sight?

‘Sir, I am hardworking and I am always willing to put in a hundred per cent into everything I do. I have the urge to learn and apply. I will be an asset to any organization I work for.’

‘Your exam results don’t show that.’

I know that, you dimwit. It’s
my
résumé. I typed that out.

‘Yes, I know that, sir. However, I wasn’t interested in Mechanical. It was a mistake to have taken it up. That’s why my grades dipped.’

‘Yes, I know. It can be a pain. Mechanical engineering is not a very interesting field, you see. It’s a very theoretical field and tends to get very monotonous. It’s a languishing field. Don’t you think?’

Screw you.

‘Yes, sir.’

It seemed the only notable thing he did after being born was taking up information technology as a subject. The presumptuousness of IT people never ceased to amaze me.

‘See, you understand mechanical engineers in India are no good. What made you take it up?’

‘Sir, my dad is a mechanical engineer and is working with Bharat Heavy Electricals Limited.’

‘A PSU? All these engineering PSUs are just sick industries with no work culture and absolutely no sense of ambition. Anyway, the IT guys have better percentages than you have, despite IT
being a tougher course. It would not be fair choosing you over them. They have worked harder. Don’t you think?’

Oh, wow. You’re like Einstein and Sherlock Holmes in one. You know everything!

‘Yes, sir.’

I presumed sitting in the Open Air Theatre—OAT, as it was known—lawns with attractive juniors was what made IT engineering tough. Girls from the junior batches always seem more attractive and vulnerable and sexually active than the girls from the same batch. While people were yet to kiss somebody, our juniors were being featured in grainy MMS videos! We had chosen the wrong decade to be born in. More sex in the latter, no damn IT in the former.

‘See, you understand. What makes you think that you are interested in software, Debashish?’

Because it gets people jobs.

‘Sir, it really intrigues me how certain codes can make things happen,’ I said, still not giving up and trying to make something happen.

‘It intrigues you and still you didn’t make an effort to learn even one language. You know, it’s not very easy. In mechanical engineering, things haven’t changed in the last two decades or so. But the IT sector has grown. You have to be on your toes constantly to be competitive. You can’t just sit and let things happen the way they are. IT and electronics are changing the world. Don’t you think?’

If IT changes the world, why are you still an asshole?

‘Yes, sir.’ I would have loved to see his brain splattered against the wall behind him.

‘See, you understand that too. People in mechanical engineering and civil engineering really have to start working hard if they want to make an impact. But they make lousy students and that’s the root of the problem. Services still constitute fifty-two per cent of the gross domestic product. So we are doing pretty well, unlike you, don’t you think?’

I fully agreed to write a program for electronically wiping off Bill Gates’ ass each morning because he was busy doing other important things. That’s services all right. I wanted to shove it in his face that every developed country had first grown as a manufacturing hub rather than a servicing one, but I let it be.

‘Coming back to the question, why didn’t you try to learn anything about languages?’

Are you kidding me? They are the most boring thing ever.

‘Sir, I did not get the time to learn a language.’

‘Why? Were you studying for your semester?’ he barely suppressed a chuckle. I just got a feeling I was in for some special treatment. He had just laid his hands on a below-average student with no special talent to speak of.

‘No, sir, I was involved in extracurricular activities.’

‘What kind of extracurricular activities?’

Oh. Shit.

‘Sir, I have been an active member of the student council and have organized technical and cultural festivals for our college. I have been working with the Society of Automotive Engineers for the last three years …’

‘Despite having no interest in mechanical?’

Oh. No.

‘Yes, sir.’ This was getting tiring and frustrating. Even staring at the grotesque mole had become boring.

‘Okay. But I don’t see any certificates for any of them,’ the bald guy added gleefully. He would have clapped and done a little jig had he been invisible.

‘Sir, I didn’t collect the certificates.’

‘Why? Because you didn’t get the time? Or because you didn’t have the interest?’ he smiled.

Will you shut your filthy mouth?

That was it. I knew he was not going to hire me.

‘Debashish? Any answers? See, you have to be a quick thinker to give an answer, but then mechanical …’

‘No, sir. I think I am not fit for the company nor is the company right for me. Thank you, sir. For the exposure I wanted before I
sit for other
true engineering companies
. It was nice meeting you,’ I said condescendingly and walked off fuming.

It wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but it felt so bloody good. It wasn’t until later that I would realize my mistake. Until then, the huge two-storeyed Mechanical Department canteen beckoned.

Thanks for the wishes. I had a terrible interview. You obviously don’t care. Please don’t call and irritate me right now.

The text would reach Smriti just as I stepped into the canteen.

‘Heard you had a pretty interesting interview?’ Shrey said as soon as he saw me. More than anything, I was surprised by how fast the news travelled.

Shrey was sprawled on a concrete bench and his mouth was stuffed with French fries. He was the godfather of the canteen. Every mechanical student knew him and
the story
. Never did he spend a single paisa there. He fed off what others ordered.

Shrey had come up with the idea of cutting the water supply to the Electrical Department canteen in a bid to divert the crowd to the newer Mechanical Department canteen. It worked like a dream. College authorities took two months to rectify the problem, by which time the students had already got used to the new canteen.

‘I don’t want to talk about the interview. You tell me, how are the formalities going?’

‘I went to the French embassy yesterday. You have to see it to believe it. It’s heaven. All those girls in short skirts. I wonder what Paris would be like. I talked to my professor in France. She sounded quite hot, too. That French accent! Just that accent is enough to turn me on,’ he blabbered.

Heaven for sure. He was soon to be in a place where people would listen to him and not bludgeon him, for they wouldn’t understand the language he spoke. A place where the people would be short-skirted university girls speaking in an infinitely erotic accent. I envied him, even though I knew he had put many months behind this internship. Something I would have never managed.

‘So your parents are funding your internship?’ I asked.

‘I am getting a scholarship from the French embassy,’ he said.

‘What the
hell
? With that percentage of yours? Why? What did you do?’

‘I forged the mark sheet. There is this mammoth machine called exxaccopier at the National Laboratory which charges …’

‘Whatever. What about the signatures?’

‘I forged that too. That’s what I am telling you. That machine with its meta stable lasers …’

‘Are you crazy? What if you get caught?’

‘I will either be resting in my grave or be too old to be jailed. The forgeries are perfect. So chill.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

‘Yes, I am sure.’

For a few seconds, I wished he would get caught soon. I felt I was missing out on something. French girls in summer dresses and kiss-me accents. I tried not to think about it.

I told myself it was useless to envy him. The Paris internship was just a small piece of the whole career puzzle. With a percentage like his, he would find it difficult to get placed. Or get into a good university for his masters. Moreover, doing a post-graduation in engineering was unthinkable. The very thought of opening the bonnet and looking at an engine made me queasy enough to take a bus back home. But a foreign internship in the midst of French girls would have done no harm whatsoever to my burgeoning health. I couldn’t get the thought out of my head.