he day our shipment carrying the samples was to arrive was drawing near. The Old Boys’ Day at Bishop Cotton was on 29 June and we had to get permission from the principal and the alumni association to set the ball rolling. Without their permission, there was no way we could set up a stall and display our samples. The principal during our time in school had moved on so we had to start from scratch, but the fact that we were old boys could work in our favour.
Every entrepreneur has to go through the ‘pitch’. That is what determines everything. ‘Pitch’ is basically how well you sell your idea and convince the other person about it. We had taken an appointment to meet him but had to wait for the samples because there wouldn’t be any point meeting him without showing him the product we were trying to sell.
Meanwhile, things at home were getting a little uneasy for me. Anu Aunty had fixed a job interview for me on Friday afternoon. This was, of course, exactly the same day the principal of Bishop Cotton had given us an appointment for. This got me into a terrible fix. I definitely had no intention of going for the interview but I also didn’t want my family, and especially Anu Aunty, to find out what I was up to.
It was Wednesday and I was awakened early in the morning by my landline ringing constantly.
This was extremely strange since nobody calls on a landline these days. So I answered the phone, and on the other line was a lady with a familiar-sounding voice.
‘Hellooo, could I speak with Poornima, please?’ she said.
‘May I know who is calling?’ I said.
‘It’s Anu here.’ My hands started trembling.
‘Varooon, I hope you haven’t forgotten about Friday ya. You have that interview and you cannot bunk it, OK?’
(Awkward Silence)
‘Ah…umm…where is it, aunty? I might have some work,’ I said.
‘Oh c’mon Varun, what work? Your mother tells me you sleep all day, you have to go.’
‘Sleep all day? No, aunty, I’m working on something.’
‘No, Varun. I know everything. Even Biju Uncle is going to be there. He wants to talk to you.’
‘Uh, aunty…but…’
‘No but git n’ all, Varun. Now please give the phone to Poornima, no.’
Damn! I had to get out of this and I had to come up with an excuse very soon.
The boys decided to meet up for a mid-week drink that day and we found ourselves holed up in Satya’s Bar and Restaurant. Satya’s was like any other bar and restaurant in India. The funny thing about these places is that no one usually eats in such places. All the boys were in attendance, save for Mal, who had excused himself due to overload of work at KGMP. I was really keen on getting drunk as quickly as possible. Anu Aunty had put way too much pressure on me and I was way too stressed.
The first round of Blender’s Pride was gulped down in an instant.
‘So Varun, tell us da, what’s happening with Devika?’ asked Sid.
‘Ooooo!’ All of them howled in unison.
‘Still haven’t added her guys,’ I said.
‘What, are you fucking serious?’ Sid tends to get really aggressive when he is drunk.
‘You’re such a pussy,’ yelled Mehta.
This coming from a guy who was twenty-four and had never kissed a girl.
Drinks were now flowing and everyone was a little tight. Sid was getting angrier while Rohit and Mehtu were engaged in a serious discussion on the subprime crisis.
‘I fucking hate this country and hate this system. There are no fucking jobs for someone like me.
Me, I bloody graduated from LSE!’ Sid banged his fist on the table.
‘So? What’s the big deal in graduating from LSE, man? Every Tom, Dick and Harry is from there these days,’ Rohit pitched in, adding fuel to the fire.
‘What the hell is wrong with you, fuckface? Not everyone can get into LSE,’ said Sid.
‘Who the fuck are you calling fuckface, you slut,’ said Rohit.
‘Aye Bob, chill out Bob,’ Mehta butted in trying to resolve the matter.
‘Mehtu, you fucking stay out this, you shit,’ Sid screamed loud enough to draw the attention of the manager.
‘You’re such a pussy, da Sid,’ said Mehtu.
‘Pussy? Who the hell are you calling a pussy, you bastard?’
I am usually very calm when I’m drunk but there was a lot on my mind that night. So I did something completely unexpected. I stood up and started shouting at them.
‘Guys, you fucking idiots, look at yourselves fighting over stupid shit. All of you are pussies and all of you are bastards. Sid, if you’re so desperate for a job why don’t you create one man? That’s right. No one in this country wants to take any risks. Everyone wants a happy-go-lucky MNC job, all the perks in the world and the weekend off. Even if you’re sitting on the bench in the company, it doesn’t matter as long as you have a job, right?
‘ If everyone starts thinking this way, how the hell will this country have any entrepreneurs or anything else man? Imagine, if in the 80s, Narayana Murthy had thought, “Why the hell am I not getting a job?” Who would have given jobs to asses like you all today? Why the hell is everyone so foolishly limited to a single track when it comes to this? Why does everyone have to follow the plan? First, you’re expected to get good grades, then you’re expected to get into a good college, then you’re expected to get into a company and then get an MBA—this is such a load of shit!
‘How will anyone do what they want to do here? If you want to become a filmmaker, you’re laughed at; if you want to start your own company, you’re laughed at. Rohit, you stupid fuck, look at you. You were one of the finest cricketers around when we were in school. You could have done such great things, but look at you—living your life in fear and still struggling with your GMAT. And Gujju Boy, you, you’re one of the greatest designers I have ever seen. You can sketch and draw man, and
that’s such a great fucking talent, and look at you dreaming of going to USA and becoming a techie.
You know what’s the funny part? When you’re done living someone else’s dream and you are old and depressed, all of you will think about this day and say “WHY THE FUCK DID I DO WHAT EVERYONE ELSE WANTED ME TO DO?’’’
Silence.
Even the waiters had stopped serving. Everyone was looking at me as though I had just given an Oscar speech or something. No one even batted an eyelid. The boys were absolutely stunned as was the rest of the crowd. I was expecting everyone to burst into applause anytime now. And right then Sid burst into ‘Kajarare’ and was promptly joined in by Rohit and Gujju Boy. There were no claps, no salutations, nothing. And with that, everything I said was completely forgotten.