Of a school, a racing series and an implausible dream...

Indulging in rumour-mongering is one of the guilty pleasures we all enjoy – those who snub this ‘disgusting’ and ‘cheap’ habit feel smug and those who do partake in it, well, their pleasure knows no bounds.


Anyway, one more thing rumours do is that they give us a more often than not interesting topic to discuss with our friends – they are responsible for kick-starting many lazy afternoon conversations over the phone, or even a boisterous, pointless natter over beer-mugs among friends in a pub. And that’s generally because people do tend to have an opinion. The rumours, then, give us something to chew upon, something to kill time with, something to ensure our life stays as meaningful or meaningless as we want it to be.


And one such rumour is responsible for this post. And my gut says it will probably turn out into speculation on an extremely fanciful scheme. More on that later.


Babai called me sometime back and told me St. Patrick’s are probably thinking of making the +2 section co-ed. My instantaneous reaction was, “WHAT. THE. FUCK?” Seems people at the SPOBA have lost their marbles. Or is it the SPAI (I still can’t forget how they ruined our last official day in Class X. Almost.). Retards that they are, they will definitely extend this ‘cooperative effort’ to the other junior classes. And then?


Nothing. When I thought about it later, I realized that the school would be more or less OK. With the girls coming in, probably the number of 90-pluses will increase (albeit the equal increase in the number of dumb, dumber, dumberer females-which will restore the average). And probably being seen together in random places downtown in school uniforms will be less scandalous for those who want to move their love-life into a higher gear. But my question remains. WHY? Ever heard of the saying, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”? Of course you have. How daft of me. They should definitely encourage inter-school interaction through any number of events – like those dance parties they used to have years back, but sleeping with the enemy (sorry about that) is a strict no-no. Please. See some sense. STOP THIS.


One more thing struck me. It shouldn’t come as a surprise after all, but still. If the school thinks it wants to be innovative, to be a trend setter, it should invest in my grand scheme. With all the right moves, I’m sure we will get all the visibility, the popularity and the reputation we could ever want. Or need.


They should start the SPS GP Challenge, which will be a racing series for the under-18 class. This could be held during the winter break. Standard go-karts could be made the norm, with 4-5 HP 2-stroke engines, a barebones chassis with (a trifle expensive, I agree) slicks bolted on to them. Or we can use engines from the stupid lawnmowers which have rattled our brains out while we were in 9th and 10th. The steering racks could be welded together in some local foundry. Stop smirking. I know it’s not particularly high-tech, but it’s not at all about the technology – it’s about nice, old-school racing, wheel banging and trying to ram each other off the racing line on the corner entry and exit segments. And I think I am safe in the assumption that the most balls-out racer will take home the Gulmohar leaf trophy.


Of course, all this is very well, but what about the racetrack? Don’t stick your stinky sock into my pine-fresh dream studio yet. We have one right inside the campus!


If you don’t believe me, continue reading. If you do, do the same as well.


The Start/Finish line will be in front of the large manual bell(which we fooled around with occasionally); the machines then accelerate up to the large oak tree(with the 2-tonne pitch roller under it); next comes a medium right past the canteen and the disused building behind it. Just as the curve straightens, there’s the Triangular Section (Traffic duty….thoo) with a hard 90 degree right – hard on the brakes here, and this is one of the overtaking zones, a section which will be extremely critical to the lap times. My favourite part comes next, a delightful high-speed section at full throttle, past the senior school, towards the junior school, as the cars, sorry, karts fly past the middle school building and the parking lot. This brings us to another stand-on-the-brakes hard right. And then, it’s smooth sailing all the way – it’s all about finding the best possible line and straight-lining the final section, past the school auditorium and back to the main straight and across the line.


Think about it. The guys in town will kill to be a part of the race, whose entrants will have been rigorously screened by time-trials, and selected from (hopefully) hundreds of other aspirants. The girls will also probably fancy a guy in a racing suit and a helmet a wee bit more that your average Dick. The mothers would have something better to bitch about to each other than their children’s grades and their love interests. I have no doubt that the standard of racing here will be superior to the standard of the football they play in the Salt Lake Stadium and also to the performances of the Kolkata Knight Riders (sorry Shahrukh). If all goes well, the money will flow in as well. TV coverage would probably work it’s way up from the Asansol Cable Network to no less that Star Sports (I’ll take TEN Sports as well, thank you very much). It will, god-willing, be a top draw event in Eastern India. It might catch the eye of individuals and corporates who would like to support good talent instead of being part of stupid poverty-alleviation schemes which usually benefit no one. If it were to become the pre-eminent racing championship in India, then it would become the breeding ground for the future generation GP2 and…wait for it…Formula One race drivers … the possibilities seem endless to me(though you won’t be wrong in thinking that I’m too carried away at this point)…


Who knows, the next Formula One World Champion might probably be in Asansol right now, busy with Mr. S. Chattterjee’s math homework.

Defiant

So much has been learnt in such little time!

If you think I have gone crazy and am on the verge of going off on a tangential path, you are wrong. You must be knowing that the Class 12 board results have been declared. And I have fared miserably. 89.7 fucking percent is hopeless. Above all else, I have let my own self down. That is the most disgusting part of it!

The quote-smiths always say that there is a silver lining to every cloud... They are not very far off. I've seen that there may not be any silver lining, but there is at least a tin lining on this mud-cloud!! (extremely unfunny, I know)

I've always hated studying. I've always felt that it's the most despicable and detestable thing on this planet. That's not unlike many others, but the problem is that I've taken 13 years to realize this!! I absolutely hate having to sit down with my books at any time of any day, any month, or any year. But then, I do love doing certain things related in a way to academics.

I enjoy reading. Oh yes I do. Any reading material under the sun has either an admirer or a critic in me. I love writing stuff as you can see clearly. I love taking part in debates, spelling-bee contests, quizzes, and the like. I feel completely at home on stage - it makes me feel so alive !! I thoroughly enjoy every second I spend on stage - be it as a performer or a compere, the sheer thrill of it is totally fulfilling...

But I am a fu***ng Science student. And my parents earlier used to say that you have to study Science only till you are in Class 12. That was 3 years earlier. Now I realize they never meant to say any of that! It was just a way of assuring me that I am free to take some decisions of my own - in reality, they are the same Corinthians that the parents of my other friends are! I don't despise them or hate them for that (I have no right to) - I can only pity them. They are part of the crowd...I'd proudly tell my friends earlier that, "Yaar, mera koi bhi choice ho sakta hai...my parents are cool with whatever I do in future." And they were like, " Wow, Raunaq, you are lucky to have such parents. I wish mere parents aise hote. Tu toh lucky hai yaar." Bullshit. Kuch bhi nahin hai. Mujhe like every other Tom, Dick and Harry, engineering hi padhna padega. That's what I have realized now...Now I know what a big dunce I had been to think that I would be able to pursue my dreams. I never knew this was coming. If I even had a whiff of this, I'd have studied my hated subjects - Physics, Chemistry and Maths more seriously, with not only a pinch, but a truckload of salt, if the situation demanded that of me. The fault is mine, mine and only mine.

And yesterday someone told me on the phone,"Ronu, keep your chin up. You have done well. Go for English or international studies. What will you do by studying engineering? Are you going to write paeans and poems on the buildings and bridges you make? We'll see that you get to study the subject of your interest. Cheer up."

Oh really? I don't mean any indecency or disrespect to her (I can't even dream of such a thing - I have my scruples in place), but I know exactly what she was thinking when she said that. She was thinking, " Isska toh kuch hone waala hai nahin. Aadha barbaad toh ho chuka hai. Issko thoda dilaasa de deti hoon. Usse achha lagega. He's just not good enough for engineering. So let's pump up is deflated balloon a little. Poor boy!" I'm sure of this. Everyone is feeling nothing but pity towards me.

Now I myself don't have any self-pity or self-respect left. I think I'm once again going to be a loser. But this time, it may be a loss from which it will be impossible to bounce back.

It's all in a downward spiral for me, from here on. Providence grins and tells me, "Heads I win, tails you lose !! "
I know. I'm can see that.

This brings me to a decision that I had taken 2 years earlier (If you don't know anything about that, you evidently don't know me well enough). I still feel that it was the correct decision. I had the option of choosing between the devil and the deep blue sea. Somehow, I felt that choosing to die at the hands of the Devil is more dignified. At least you don't die a coward.

So many things have happened to me. Persons who seemed to be beacons of light and hope have proved to be double-dealing fiends. I mean it.

But, all said and done, I remain the eternally irrational optimist. I pray to ----even I don't know what or who that is----to help me crack the HSEE. Or I pray that I get a good rank in the AIEEE. Or I pray that my parents and all the other faux guardians have some mercy on my predicament. I want everyone to know that my idea of success and happiness is not a B Tech, an MBA and then warming my butt in a software company room's leather chair, like most of my peers will eventually end up doing. Not on my life. I don't deserve that kind of life. Or I should rather say that that kind of life doesn't deserve me. I want to do something that excites me. But, as it usually happens with castigated individuals like me, no one's going to listen to what I say. You must have heard what the Lycra ad says, "You either have it, or you don't." It now seems to me that I really don't.

Its too much to ask for, you tell me. Yes it is. I am fully aware of that. But, heck, who gives a damn? If I am disappointed once more, it won't be the first time that will happen. And it certainly won't be the last.

Till anything happens, for the better, or for the worse, I'll draw inspiration from my favourite lines, authored by the legend himself, the incomparable J.R.R. Tolkien:

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadow shall spring.

Renewed shall be blade that was broken;

The crownless again shall be king.

The 'crownless' again shall be king'? Maybe. I haven't lost hope yet.