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Five Point Someone What not to do at IIT Chetan Bhagat is the author of two blockbuster novels – Five Point Someone (2004) and One Night @ The Call Center (2005) – which continue to top bestseller lists. In March 2008, the New York Times called him the ‘biggest-selling English-language novelist in India’s history’. Both his books have inspired major Bollywood films. Seen more as the voice of a generation than just an author, this IIT/IIM-A graduate is making India read like never before. The 3 Mistakes of My Life is his third novel. After eleven years in Hong Kong, the author relocated to Mumbai in 2008, where he works as an investment banker. Apart from books, the author has a keen interest in screenplays and spirituality. Chetan is married to Anusha, his classmate from IIM-A, and has twin boys – Ishaan and Shyam. Five Point Someone What not to do at IIT A Novel by CHETAN BHAGAT First published in 2004 by Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd. 7/16, Ansari Road, Daryaganj New Delhi 110002 Sales centres: Allahabad Bengaluru Chennai Hyderabad Jaipur Kathmandu Kolkata Mumbai Copyright © Chetan Bhagat 2004 Cover design: [email protected] This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons—living or dead—events or localities is entirely coincidental. This digital edition published in 2012 e-ISBN: 978-81-291-2138-7 Chetan Bhagat asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Digital edition prepared by Ninestars Information Technologies Ltd. All rights reserved. This e-book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, print reproduction, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. Any unauthorized distribution of this e-book may be considered a direct infringement of copyright and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. I Love u Rachu Dear Frnds pls spread this msg until its reach to my rachu I thinks see knows my name Downloaded from EBOOK4IN.BLOGSPOT.COM For my mother For IIT, my alma mater Contents Acknowledgements Prologue Bare Beginnings Terminator Barefoot on Metal Line Drawing Make Notes not War Five-point Something Alok Speaks One Year Later The Mice Theory Cooperate to Dominate The Gift Neha Speaks One More Year Later Vodka Operation Pendulum The Longest Day of My Life I The Longest Day of My Life II The Longest Day of My Life III The Longest Day of My Life IV The Longest Day of My Life V The Longest Day of My Life VI Ryan Speaks Kaju-burfi Will we Make It? A Day of Letters Meeting Daddy Five Point Someone Acknowledgements Well, to say this is my book would be totally untrue. At best, this was my dream. There are people in this world, some of them so wonderful, that made this dream become a product that you are holding in your hand. I would like to thank all of them, and in particular: Shinie Antony – mentor, guru and friend, who taught me the basics of telling a story and stayed with me right till the end. If she hadn’t encouraged and harassed me all the way, I would have given this up a long time ago. James Turner, Gaurav Malik, Jessica Rosenberg, Ritu Malik, Tracie Ang, Angela Wang and Rimjhim Chattopadhya – amazing friends who read the manuscript and gave honest comments. All of them also stayed with me in the process, and handled me and my sometimes out-of-control emotions so well. Anusha Bhagat – a wife who was once a classmate, and was the first reader of the draft. Apart from being shocked by some of the incidents in the book, she kept her calm as she had to face the tough job of improving the product and not upsetting her husband. My mom Rekha Bhagat and brother Ketan, two people with an irrational, unbreakable belief in me that bordered on craziness at times. My relationship with them goes beyond the common genes we share, and I, like every author, needed their irrational support for me. My IIT friends Ashish (Golu), Johri, VK, Manu, Shanky, Pappu, Manhar, VP, Rahul, Mehta, Pago, Assem, Rajeev G., Rahul, Lavmeet,Puneet, Chapar and all others. This is a work of fiction, but fiction needs real inspiration. I love them all so much that I could literally write a book on them. Hey wait, have I? My friends in Hong Kong, my work colleagues, my yoga teachers and others that surround me, love me and make life fun. The editor and the entire team at Rupa for being so professional and friendly through the process. And lastly, it is only when one writes a book that one realizes the true power of MSWord, from grammar checks to replace-alls. It is simple – without this software, this book would not be written. Thank you Mr Bill Gates and Microsoft Corp! I Love u Rachu Dear Frnds pls spread this msg until its reach to my rachu I thinks see knows my name Downloaded from EBOOK4IN.BLOGSPOT.COM Prologue I had never been inside an ambulance before. It was kind of creepy. Like a hospital was suddenly asked to pack up and move. Instruments, catheters, drips and a medicine box surrounded two beds. There was hardly any space for me and Ryan to stand even as Alok got to sprawl out. I guess with thirteen fractures you kind of deserve a bed. The sheets were originally white, which was hard to tell now as Alok’s blood covered every square inch of them. Alok lay there unrecognizable, his eyeballs rolled up and his tongue collapsed outside his mouth like an old man without dentures. Four front teeth gone, the doctor later told us. His limbs were motionless, just like his father’s right side, the right knee bent in a way that would make you think Alok was boneless. He was still, and if I had to bet my money, I’d have said he was dead. “If Alok makes it through this, I will write a book about our crazy days. I really will,” I swore. It is the kind of absurd promise you make to yourself when you are seriously messed up in the head and you haven’t slept for fifty hours straight… 1 — Bare Beginnings BEFORE I REALLY BEGIN THIS BOOK, LET ME FIRST TELL you what this book is not. It is not a guide on how to live through college. On the contrary, it is probably an example of how screwed up your college years can get if you don’t think straight. But then this is my take on it, you’re free to agree or disagree. I expect Ryan and Alok, psychos both of them, will probably kill me after this but I don’t really care. I mean, if they wanted their version out there, they could have written one themselves. But Alok cannot write for nuts, and Ryan, even though he could really do whatever he wants, is too lazy to put his bum to the chair and type. So stuff it boys – it is my story, I am the one writing it and I get to tell it the way I want it. Also, let me tell you one more thing this book is certainly not. This book will not help you get into IIT. I think half the trees in the world are felled to make up the IIT entrance exam guides. Most of them are crap, but they might help you more than this one will. Ryan, Alok and I are probably the last people on earth you want to ask about getting into IIT. All we would say as advice is, if you can lock yourself in a room with books for two years and throw away the key, you can probably make it here. And if your high school days were half as miserable as mine, disappearing behind a pile of books will not seem like such a bad idea. My last two years in school were living hell, and unless you captained the basketball team or played the electric guitar since age six, probably yours were too. But I don’t really want to get into all that. I think I have made my disclaimers, and it is time for me to commence. Well, I have to start somewhere, and what better than the day I joined the Indian Institute of Technology and met Ryan and Alok for the first time; we had adjacent rooms on the second floor of the Kumaon hostel. As per tradition, seniors rounded us up on the balcony for ragging at midnight. I was still rubbing my eyes as the three of us stood to attention and three seniors faced us. A senior named Anurag leaned against a wall. Another senior, to my nervous eye, looked like a demon from cheap mythological TV shows – six feet tall, over a hundred kilos, dark, hairy, and huge teeth that were ten years late meeting an orthodontist. Although he inspired terror, he spoke little and was busy providing background for the boss, Baku, a lungi-clad human toothpick, and just as smelly is my guess. “You bloody freshers, dozing away eh? Rascals, who will give an introduction?” he screamed. “I am Hari Kumar sir, Mechanical Engineering student, All India Rank 326.” I was nothing if not honest under pressure. “I am Alok Gupta sir, Mechanical Engineering, Rank 453,” Alok said as I looked at him for the first time. He was my height, five feet five inches – in short, very short – and had these thick, chunky glasses on. His portly frame was covered in neatly ironed white kurta- pajamas. “Ryan Oberoi, Mechanical Engineering, Rank 91, sir,” Ryan said in a deep husky voice and all eyes swung to him. Ryan Oberoi, I repeated his name again mentally. Now here was a guy you don’t see in IIT too often; tall, with spare height, purposefully lean and unfairly handsome. A loose gray T-shirt proclaimed ‘GAP’ in big blue letters on his chest and shiny black shorts reached his knees. Relatives abroad for sure, I thought. Nobody wears GAP to bed otherwise. “You bastards,” Baku was shrieking, “Off with your clothes.” “Aw Baku, let us talk to them a bit first,” protested Anurag, leaning against the wall, sucking a cigarette butt. “No talking!” Baku said, one scrawny hand up. “No talking, just remove those damn clothes.” Another demon grinned at us, slapping his bare stomach every few seconds. There seemed to be no choice so we surrendered every item of our clothing, shivering at the unholy glee in Baku’s face as he walked by each of us, checking us out and grinning. Nakedness made the difference between our bodies more stark as Alok and me drew figures on the floor with deeply embarrassed toes, trying to be casual about our twisted balloon figures. Ryan’s body was flawless, man, he was a hunk; muscles that cut at the right places and a body frame that for once resembled the human body shown in biology books. You could describe his body as sculpture. Alok and I, on the other hand, weren’t exactly what you’d call art. Baku told Alok and me to step forward, so the seniors could have better view and a bigger laugh. “Look at them, mothers fed them until they are ready to explode, little Farex babies,” Baku cackled. The demon joined him in laughter. Anurag smiled behind a burst of smoke as he extinguished another cigarette, creating his own special effects. “Sir, please sir, let us go sir,” Alok pleaded to Baku as he came closer. “What? Let you go? We haven’t even done anything yet to you beauties. C’mon bend down on all fours now, you two fatsos.” I looked at Alok’s face. His eyes were invisible behind those thick, bulletproof spectacles, but going by his contorted face, I could tell he was as close to tears as I was. “C’mon, do what he says,” the demon admonished. He and Baku seemed to share a symbiotic relationship; Baku needed him for brute strength, while the servile demon needed him for directions. Alok and I bent down on all fours. More laughter, this time from above our heads, ensued. The demon suggested racing both of us, his first original opinion in a while but Baku overrode him. “No racing-vacing, I have a better idea. Just wait, I have to go to my room. And you naked cows, don’t look up.” Baku raced up the corridor as we waited for twenty tense seconds, gazing at the floor. I glanced sideways and noticed a small water puddle adjacent to Alok’s head, droplets falling from his eye. Meanwhile, the demon made Ryan flex his muscles and make warrior poses. I am sure he looked photogenic, but didn’t dare look up to verify.