ACT 1:
Scene1:
Scene1:
A week into the semester, the holiday hangover is not over yet. After all, the three month long summer break is quite long, and bad habits are indeed easier to acquire. However, Adi is very determined to attend all the lectures this time around. He intends to take studies a lot more seriously than the last time round and give it a proper shot. He carries all five fat notebooks that he bought last week and carries each one of them to the class every day. He nudges the girl sitting beside him in between the lecture and says,with a pride glowing in his face, ‘You know what? I haven’t missed a single class.’ ‘Oh really?’ comes the sarcastic reply from Shreya.
Scene 2:
‘Hey Adi, canteen chale?’ asks Ramaswamy, the only Hyderabadi guy . ‘No, yaar..’Adi tries to avoid but in vain. ‘Abbe, chal na..’ and he drags him to the canteen. ‘Suun,tu next class karega kya? Mera proxy laga dena be in NMC’s class. Okay? ’ ‘Ya, sure’, replies Adi . After the coffee is over, he heads back to class, while Ramaswami is off to hostel. While on his way, Adi shakes his head and says to himself, ‘Fcuk, I should have gone back too with him’.
Scene3:
‘Oye lazy moron get up! It’s already 12!’ screams someone. Still groggy, Adi fumbles for his glasses and blurts ‘What happened? Let me sleep.’ ‘You dint attend a single class in the morning. And don’t give me bullshit saying u dint have one.. I checked with a guy of your department’, says the other guy. ‘Hmm.. ’ comes the groggy reply as Adi dozes off to complete his unfinished business.Act 2:
Scene 1:
‘See, I really need it. Okay? Please understand. I will give it back in under thirty minutes. Cool?’ pleads Adi. ‘This is the last time, you get it? And it’s not at all cool! Why don’t you make your own notes? We have our semester day after tomorrow and you want it now?’ says a visibly irritated Nilanjana. ‘Also these are my notes, okay? Don’t you dare give it to your other pals. It took me a lotta hard work to make it’. ‘Okay Neel, I promise. Thanks buddy for saving my ass as always’ , and he makes a run for the photocopy shop. ‘Mind it; this is the last time I’m helping you out..‘ Nilanjana’s voice trails off in the distance.
Scene2:
‘Yaar please keep quiet. Let me concentrate. I need to mug this whole thing up‘, screams Adi sitting on his bed with photocopies and books all over his bed and the some Wikipedia page showing on the laptop screen. However the guys start discussing their doubts among themselves again soon. He throws his hands up in disgust. ‘You people are just pathetic. Uncivilized pack of mongrels ’, says with nothing but disgust as he slams the door of their room behind him.
Scene3:
4 in the morning, still wide awake trying to study as best as he can, Adi rattles of the formula that he just learned. ‘Please God; please help me remember this damn formula’. To be doubly sure he writes it down in a scrap of paper in miniscule handwriting. ‘I still have 5 hours to go.. Last two lessons.. I hope I make it.’ He picks up his cell and dials a number. ‘Hey, did you do sum number 5.7? Good.. explain it to me..’ and he takes his pen and paper to write a bunch of weird looking equations full of deltas and integrals..
Scene 4:
‘Please God.. Help me,’ he thinks in his mind as he takes the question paper from the Proffesor. Then he begins to write as the electric bell goes off.
Act 3:
Scene1:
Everyone has left the examination hall except Adi, Ramaswami and Shreya. Adi is tensed - speaking only when he needs to. Shreya’s exam is also screwed, but she is a little cool about it since she knows that she will scrape through somehow. Ramaswamy is also tensed. But he covers it up with the wicked smile that always lights up his face.
Adi is frantically adding up his marks he expects to get. ‘Okay, ten here, six in this. Sixteen. Sir will give another three for this and another two for all that I hope. How much is it?’ ‘ Dunno re..’ ‘Screw you.. ten, six, three and two .. Okay that makes twenty one.’ ‘In Madam’s portion I haven’t done anything.. I mean I have done, but they are all wrong.. So I need at least twenty in the internals to pass. Will they give? I was screwed in my class test also.. and I don’t even have attendance..‘ breaks off Adi. ‘Chill dude.. they will make you pass.. they gives grace’ says Ramaswami, in a attempt to sooth Adi’s nerves. Adi starts counting again.. Shreya and Ramaswami exchange glances.
Scene2:
Its 10 in the night, and Adi is still fiddling with the question paper. He adds it up one more time. The marks he mentally adds up is probably still not good enough to calm him down. Exasparated, he is unsure what to do next. If only he had studied as he had planned to in the start of the semester.
Scene 3:
It’s the day that the results shall be declared. Adi powers his laptop and connects to the web. He types in the web address in the browser, and waits it to connect to the web page.. And finally it connects and the result is in front of him. He sees it for a minute and a drop of tear rolls down his cheeks. Just then 1800 kms away, Ramaswami starts a dialing a number on his cell phone..
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A word before you leave:
A word before you leave:
So what do you think happened? This ain’t my story. This is not someone else’s story either. I guess we know whose story this is. This is the story of an average college going kid who wonders what went wrong. I guess this story is applicable to some student of every college be it in IITs, NITs or some other college. It’s the same story everywhere and not just Adi, Ramaswami or Shreya.
I am in NIT Durgapur, and from firsthand experience I can tell you this is the real thing. I’m no CB, n I dint get the drive to glorify Adi by making him sleep with a Proff’s daughter. Most of us here are pretty much like the every other kid in the street. Yes, we ogle at pretty girls, and laugh among ourselves about the air headed chicks. But how come we ended up so screwed up?
A professor once said to us : ‘You come here as finished products, and pass out as raw materials.’ I guess that’s what it truly is.
p.s : This ain't FPS. Dont think about it while you read.

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