‘from the deepest corner of my heart, from the loneliest corner of my soul, i would like to ask you a question, a question which blossomed in my heart the minute i saw you, a question that resonates in every heartbeat i have, in every breath i have taken since i have met you, in every second that i have felt your presence. you and only you can answer this question of mine. please do not break my heart.....'

  It was not the best love letter in the world. Surely there are no new ways of saying "I love you" that desperate lovers haven't explored already.  But love letters have a captivating charm about them. Must be because they always have some action at the end. Or maybe because they represent the most divine of emotions, love. Or maybe its just because its the first day of college, the lecture is boring, reminding me of school, and the two guys sitting right behind me seem to be having a great amount of fun writing it. The temptation to turn around and join them was huge but just as well, the lecture was over. 

Rahul and Pookaran were making a good deal of fuss with that love letter of theirs. Pookaran was a tall, slender, not-so-good looking guy with an attitude that makes one almost sure that he has been to college before and finds it no big deal.  

That's more than what one can say about Rahul. He was fair, handsome but not enough to arouse any envy, well built and anything but polite. He seemed to be enjoying the whole atmosphere, rushing here and there, talking to everyone, desperate to not let a second go by without being up to some mischief. Understandable, as it was exactly the way I was feeling. I call it the American Pie effect.  

I got around to making their acquaintance just in time for the end of the letter.     

‘...., this is so important to me. please give me a honest answer. please tell me.... 

WHO IS THE FIRST PRESIDENT OF INDIA?'  

 

Now it was a completely different ballgame. A love-letter has a small inadequacy that it can involve a maximum of two people. A prank had no such issues. Soon it was a group discussion as to which girl was to be the lucky one.

By the time Rahul and Pookaran were on their way to shower the unsuspecting lady with their attention, the whole class had got involved. A few, including me were clapping, others were offering encouragement. The rest were looking on in anticipation. Both of them were enjoying the attention, milking it for all it's worth. Pookaran was the one to give her the letter. He had managed to come up with a rose to go along with it too. 

She reacted as any girl does when given more unwanted attention than she can handle. She tore up the letter without even reading it and started crying. The center of attention is not where everyone likes to end up on their first day of college. So much for the effort put into writing it.  

Though not the ending that was expected, it helped to break the ice. The wheat was being separated from the chaff. The wheat was having a good laugh about the whole episode. The chaff was shaking it's head looking at the wheat with ' so bad of you ' self-righteousness. The paints that were going to adorn the canvas of the Dept of Electrical Engineering, Batch of 2002, LBS college of Engineering, Kerala for the next four years had begun to show their colors.    

Pookaran was not bothered at all. He just didn't care. That was his only day in our section. The next day, he was gone, to another department and out of our story. 

Rahul was angry. He saw the whole incident with a simplicity that lent no room for doubt. It was supposed to be a joke and she spoilt it. He did not like the way she had reacted, and he let everyone know it, quickly making his first enemies.  

“What does she think of herself?  It was just a fucking love letter. She almost cried RAPE!" 

"Maybe it was all the clapping and the shouting. It’s her first day after all. She must have been embarrassed" 

I did not agree to his reaction. Maybe I give beautiful girls the benefit of the doubt too easily. 

“Oh she is no village belle. She used to study in Sir Sayed when I was doing my degree in Brennan. I don't like these kinds of girls. The one's who think they are above a joke. There is nothing that can be above a good joke."

That I agree to completely. Nothing should ever be more important than a good joke. But what surprised me was that Rahul had actually been to college before. It was impressive that his energy was not situational; it was a part of his character. And he talked straight. I liked him. 

“Oh I've played a lot of worse pranks back in Brennan. Not too many girls used to like me. " 

“I guessed as much” 

That brought a smile on his face. I had just taken a shot at a guy I barely knew. And he actually looked as if he appreciated it.  

“So, has ANY girl ever liked you?” 

I had given the "ANY" as much stress as the English language will allow. 

He wasn't offended. 

“Nah! No girl has been that stupid yet” 

And he walked away smiling. It was time for another lecture (All lectures mentioned in this story are very boring unless mentioned otherwise)  

There was something about his character that seemed very peculiar to me. A lack of ego. Something I was attracted to. And he seemed to like me too.    

My group was beginning to be formed.

CHAPTER ONE



It was a Saturday, a weekend, but more importantly it was a month end. Only thing worse than a weekday is a weekend with not a penny in the pocket. And none of us could afford a credit card as yet. After successfully managing to divide a handful of dosas among four very hungry young men, we had absolutely nothing to do.

I get this brainwave, I start reading a book. Yes, I plead guilty. Its all my fault. Everything that happens henceforth has arisen from me starting to read that book. The book is Chethan Bhagat's " three mistakes of my life". It takes me ten minutes of reading to feel like taking a leak. Coming back to see Favas reading the exact same book I was reading,  I was suitably pissed off. To someone with nothing to do, with the computer, the television, the newspaper, the girls next door, all already bled bone dry in attempts to spend time, hijacking my book seemed almost criminal. But before I could consider picking a fight with a hundred and ten kilos of pure undiluted fat, he asked me a simple question,

" Three mistakes! Our life would make a great book too. "" Yeah! Lets write a book. The last five years together, we are not short of stories. It mite actually be cool. We mite even become famous"I've  always hated the proverb ' If wishes were horses, beggars would ride '. Considering the things I have wished to become, i must be the scum of the earth.  From novelist to kick-boxer, from bussinessman to freedom fighter, and my alltime favourite, the lottery winning womaniser, I can proudly say my dreams are close to covering every decent occupation in this world. " You could actually write it. You dont have anything better to do " I liked the fact that Favas actually considered me capable of writing a book. A good two decades of dealing with an infinite assortment of insults had left me adept at filtering out the slightest compliment where none was intended. " Oh call up Nimitha will you. She mite take us out for a movie. " And there goes my book. But watching a movie seemed a very worthy substitute to day-dreaming about the Nobel prize for literature. So I made that call.So we went for the movie.

Now it's 3.30 on Sunday morning, I havn't slept yet, the movie was bad, I was spectator to a booze party I could not get drunk in as the doctor had told me not to, Favas is miles away in another apartment, I deciede that I am going to write that book.       And I am going to be famous, and win that Nobel prize, and here I begin.