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"So we all went to Chembur instead."
Uh oh. "Chembur?"
"Oh yeah, Roti threw us a party, for his birthday," he smirked, before letting go of whatever amount of decency that made him hold back till that very moment, pointing his index finger towards me, laughing while taking great pleasure in saying, "you weren't invited!"
And just like that, the joke was on me, although it was irony, and not the intensity of the gamut of emotions that was to follow, which was the first thing to hit me since just a few moments ago, it was Bhagwan who was at the receiving end of John's barbs. "This guy has never ever had a night out," he said to Pie; turning to me, he said, "God only knows how he agreed to come with us to Leo's the other day." "Leo's?" I asked, my curiosity having been aroused upon hearing the name of one of my favourite joints that I hadn't been to ever since having escaped unscathed from the 26/11 attacks, thanks mainly to the 2-hour difference in the times of visit of me and those gun-totting fundamentalists. The sinking feeling had started setting in, so had the smirk on face opposite mine; nevertheless, I went on: "When did that happen?"
Hold on. What exactly happened for me to merit this? Must. Jog. Memory.
Sunday morning. Got a call from Bhagwan asking me whether I knew if there was a "megablock" (routine maintenance which causes cancellation of suburban railway services on the Harbour Line of Bombay every alternate Sunday) that day. Why did he want to know? He had some work in Chembur.
Yeah, that fits. But the question remains - why? Re-rewind.
Wednesday morning, in the classroom. Last day of the financial year; the day before Fool's Day. John and Bhagwan were clueless - "Where the eff's Roti?" I enlightened them - "He's a quarter century old today!" Later that day, while being treated to awesome chocolate truffle from Ribbons & Balloons, the four of us along with Agent discussed the onset of Roti's mid-life crisis after which the B'day Boy promised us a treat at Grand Central sometime later that week. After much deliberation, we decided to bunk the remaining 2 lectures (chiefly because we were not allowed by the practical teacher to leave till 10 mins from the end of the recess), and made our way to InOrbit. Over milkshakes from Has, I got needled as is the norm over almost everything including my choice of drink, my favourite cricketers and my general lack of appeal when it comes to the opposite sex. Just before I left on the pretext of college magazine meeting, I caught John saying something to Roti - "Let's not disagree or argue with him too much today - we'll show him on the day of your treat."
Yeah, that must've been the moment they'd decided to show their true colours. Still, I don't think I deserve any of it. Ever since then, I have managed to artfully dodge them - and the three of them seem to be more than happy not to have me around - looks like merely having me around and making a mockery of me wasn't good enough for them. Maybe they connived, maybe only one of them is the mastermind. Take a look at the suspects. Introducing the Triad.
There's Bhagwan. I've known him for almost 6 years now - in fact, I know him right from the very first day I walked into this Hell. Even though we haven't always stayed in touch, I always thought of him as a good friend who would perenially poke fun at me but never bitch about me when my back was turned. At least that's what I thought - and that's what made me forgive his every mistake, and be there for him every time he had time to kill, needed music and movies to procure or just someone to talk to.
Then there's Roti. He joined me in my original class in 3rd semester, right after his first year drop ended. I remember him having a tough time in adjusting - his fellow droppers didn't acknowledge his presence, his new classmates (Bhagwan included) weren't particularly interested in him and the only glimmer of hope was one of his original classmates who came over without fail during recess every single day. Back then, it was me who tried to make things easy for him, by sitting with him instead of my older friends (for some reason I especially remember sitting together and solving every sum during Bhagya's Electrical Networks lectures), talking to him, trying to break the ice, succeeding in doing so.
And finally, John. Came to know him through common friends just before my first drop ended - he was going to be one of my new classmates and a seemingly interesting one at that. Of course, things are not what they ever seem to be. Before long, I came to know from reliable sources that his whole act of being a real good friend was exactly that - an act. After getting to know of innumerable unflattering comments that the dude made about me behind my back, I finally resolved never to talk to him ever again. I got another drop and fate seemed to be backing my resolution - well, not quite. In an amazing turn of events, John got a drop and joined me in my 3rd class in as many years. Throughout our 5th and 6th sems, we barely spoke.
And then, before we knew it, it was final year. Bhagwan and Roti joined us. I let them be - too much water had flown under the bridge. Ah, bridges. John acted exactly as one - between me and those two. In the process, he ended up touching all of us - not literally, of course, since he's an extreme homophobe. I for one don't know why I ended up giving him a second chance. I clearly remember how we started hitting it off all over again - his MBA entrances were around the corner, and he would ask me to test his GK. The next thing I know, the four of us were hanging out at Girish, solving CAT-type sums during breaks and dropping in at each other's place.
Looking back, I feel like kicking myself for not trusting my instincts, for giving a person like John a second chance. I feel like blaming someone - maybe one of the three of them, maybe all of them. Then again, they are not to blame - I am. I should have known better. Being part of a bunch of friends in the fag end of final year was too good to be true. And so it was - not true, that is. Some friends they were. Maybe I was wrong in considering them as my friends. They referred to the four of us as a group, shared their tiffins with me, made fun of me but made it clear that it was only because they considered me to be their friend, pretended to care for me - yes, I think I can be forgiven for thinking of the Triad as my friends.
And with that brief glimmer of positive thought appearing on the horizon, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you guys, The Triad, for a whole load of things. For confirming my fears. For bursting the bubble. For living up to the expectations I've had from my friends ever since I was insulted, abused and in every other way singled out and targeted on a daily basis by the only people who I used to interact with back in high school (which was plain obvious since I was always the first-ranker as far as academics went - a fact that alienated me from the sport, the arts and the uncouth types). For reminding me that nothing's changed - and that those incidents back then weren't one-off things to be consigned to the past. Thanks for making me feel like I am dire need of professional psychiatric help - a feeling that has time and again returned to haunt me.
But above all, thanks for making this final week of my college life a wondrously yet typically miserable one. I am forever indebted to the three of you.
Disclaimer (actual): None of the people described above are entirely fictitious. The names might or might not have been changed, but I can assure you that they are based on people I know. It saves me the trouble of forcing my imagination to come up with something worth writing. Haha, gotcha! I was just kidding - of course, these characters are not at real and any resemblance (real or imagined) to persons dead or living is entirely coincidental and/or the product of your deranged head. Now scroll back up and read the whole thing - but only if you want to.
"So we all went to Chembur instead."
Uh oh. "Chembur?"
"Oh yeah, Roti threw us a party, for his birthday," he smirked, before letting go of whatever amount of decency that made him hold back till that very moment, pointing his index finger towards me, laughing while taking great pleasure in saying, "you weren't invited!"
And just like that, the joke was on me, although it was irony, and not the intensity of the gamut of emotions that was to follow, which was the first thing to hit me since just a few moments ago, it was Bhagwan who was at the receiving end of John's barbs. "This guy has never ever had a night out," he said to Pie; turning to me, he said, "God only knows how he agreed to come with us to Leo's the other day." "Leo's?" I asked, my curiosity having been aroused upon hearing the name of one of my favourite joints that I hadn't been to ever since having escaped unscathed from the 26/11 attacks, thanks mainly to the 2-hour difference in the times of visit of me and those gun-totting fundamentalists. The sinking feeling had started setting in, so had the smirk on face opposite mine; nevertheless, I went on: "When did that happen?"
Hold on. What exactly happened for me to merit this? Must. Jog. Memory.
Sunday morning. Got a call from Bhagwan asking me whether I knew if there was a "megablock" (routine maintenance which causes cancellation of suburban railway services on the Harbour Line of Bombay every alternate Sunday) that day. Why did he want to know? He had some work in Chembur.
Yeah, that fits. But the question remains - why? Re-rewind.
Wednesday morning, in the classroom. Last day of the financial year; the day before Fool's Day. John and Bhagwan were clueless - "Where the eff's Roti?" I enlightened them - "He's a quarter century old today!" Later that day, while being treated to awesome chocolate truffle from Ribbons & Balloons, the four of us along with Agent discussed the onset of Roti's mid-life crisis after which the B'day Boy promised us a treat at Grand Central sometime later that week. After much deliberation, we decided to bunk the remaining 2 lectures (chiefly because we were not allowed by the practical teacher to leave till 10 mins from the end of the recess), and made our way to InOrbit. Over milkshakes from Has, I got needled as is the norm over almost everything including my choice of drink, my favourite cricketers and my general lack of appeal when it comes to the opposite sex. Just before I left on the pretext of college magazine meeting, I caught John saying something to Roti - "Let's not disagree or argue with him too much today - we'll show him on the day of your treat."
Yeah, that must've been the moment they'd decided to show their true colours. Still, I don't think I deserve any of it. Ever since then, I have managed to artfully dodge them - and the three of them seem to be more than happy not to have me around - looks like merely having me around and making a mockery of me wasn't good enough for them. Maybe they connived, maybe only one of them is the mastermind. Take a look at the suspects. Introducing the Triad.
There's Bhagwan. I've known him for almost 6 years now - in fact, I know him right from the very first day I walked into this Hell. Even though we haven't always stayed in touch, I always thought of him as a good friend who would perenially poke fun at me but never bitch about me when my back was turned. At least that's what I thought - and that's what made me forgive his every mistake, and be there for him every time he had time to kill, needed music and movies to procure or just someone to talk to.
Then there's Roti. He joined me in my original class in 3rd semester, right after his first year drop ended. I remember him having a tough time in adjusting - his fellow droppers didn't acknowledge his presence, his new classmates (Bhagwan included) weren't particularly interested in him and the only glimmer of hope was one of his original classmates who came over without fail during recess every single day. Back then, it was me who tried to make things easy for him, by sitting with him instead of my older friends (for some reason I especially remember sitting together and solving every sum during Bhagya's Electrical Networks lectures), talking to him, trying to break the ice, succeeding in doing so.
And finally, John. Came to know him through common friends just before my first drop ended - he was going to be one of my new classmates and a seemingly interesting one at that. Of course, things are not what they ever seem to be. Before long, I came to know from reliable sources that his whole act of being a real good friend was exactly that - an act. After getting to know of innumerable unflattering comments that the dude made about me behind my back, I finally resolved never to talk to him ever again. I got another drop and fate seemed to be backing my resolution - well, not quite. In an amazing turn of events, John got a drop and joined me in my 3rd class in as many years. Throughout our 5th and 6th sems, we barely spoke.
And then, before we knew it, it was final year. Bhagwan and Roti joined us. I let them be - too much water had flown under the bridge. Ah, bridges. John acted exactly as one - between me and those two. In the process, he ended up touching all of us - not literally, of course, since he's an extreme homophobe. I for one don't know why I ended up giving him a second chance. I clearly remember how we started hitting it off all over again - his MBA entrances were around the corner, and he would ask me to test his GK. The next thing I know, the four of us were hanging out at Girish, solving CAT-type sums during breaks and dropping in at each other's place.
Looking back, I feel like kicking myself for not trusting my instincts, for giving a person like John a second chance. I feel like blaming someone - maybe one of the three of them, maybe all of them. Then again, they are not to blame - I am. I should have known better. Being part of a bunch of friends in the fag end of final year was too good to be true. And so it was - not true, that is. Some friends they were. Maybe I was wrong in considering them as my friends. They referred to the four of us as a group, shared their tiffins with me, made fun of me but made it clear that it was only because they considered me to be their friend, pretended to care for me - yes, I think I can be forgiven for thinking of the Triad as my friends.
And with that brief glimmer of positive thought appearing on the horizon, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you guys, The Triad, for a whole load of things. For confirming my fears. For bursting the bubble. For living up to the expectations I've had from my friends ever since I was insulted, abused and in every other way singled out and targeted on a daily basis by the only people who I used to interact with back in high school (which was plain obvious since I was always the first-ranker as far as academics went - a fact that alienated me from the sport, the arts and the uncouth types). For reminding me that nothing's changed - and that those incidents back then weren't one-off things to be consigned to the past. Thanks for making me feel like I am dire need of professional psychiatric help - a feeling that has time and again returned to haunt me.
But above all, thanks for making this final week of my college life a wondrously yet typically miserable one. I am forever indebted to the three of you.
Disclaimer (actual): None of the people described above are entirely fictitious. The names might or might not have been changed, but I can assure you that they are based on people I know. It saves me the trouble of forcing my imagination to come up with something worth writing. Haha, gotcha! I was just kidding - of course, these characters are not at real and any resemblance (real or imagined) to persons dead or living is entirely coincidental and/or the product of your deranged head. Now scroll back up and read the whole thing - but only if you want to.
what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. at the very least, you got a good story out of it, eh?
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