Serious Men

who were barely seven when they were fed iron capsules and sample-question papers for this very purpose; who had attended tuitions and memorized all the formulae in the world before they learnt how to masturbate; whose parents whispered into their ears every day of their lives the answer to the decisive question: ‘What do you want tobecome in life?’ Adi would have to fight them for a sliver of the future that men of God reviled without conviction as the ‘material world’, exactly the place that a father wishes for his son. Adi, despite the misfortunes of poverty, would somehow have to find a way to get into an engineering college. And then ensure that he did not spend a single day of his life as an engineer. Because everyone would tell him then that the real money was in MBA.
    And so, even before the engineering course was over, he would start all over again, and prepare to battle thousands and thousands of boys like him in yet more entrance exams. When he finally made it and became a zombie who had entirely forgotten what he really wanted to do with his life, the light-skinned boys in the dormitory would look at him with a sad chuckle and whisper among themselves that he was a beneficiary of a 15 per cent reservation for the Dalits. ‘Lucky bastard,’ they would say.
    Ayyan rose from his chair and considered his decision one more time. It was insane what he was about to ask Acharya, but it was less insane than life. One last game, he told himself. One final flutter in his one-room home before they all succumbed to the inevitability of a future he had just seen so clearly.
    Acharya was sitting like an emperor, huge hands resting on the arms of his throne, eyes lost in the glow of celestial orbs that probably tilted gently at the honour of being invoked by such a mind.
    ‘Sir,’ Ayyan said.
    Acharya nodded, staring at a vacant wall.
    ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
    ‘Ask fast.’
    ‘My son Adi has been talking a lot about you. Ever since he met you he has gone crazy. He has been talking about the Institute even in his sleep. He wants to get admission into the Institute.’
    Acharya nodded faster now, growing impatient already. ‘You had told him that he should take the Joint EntranceTest,’ Ayyan said. ‘I know, Sir, it was just a joke but he has taken it very seriously. He says he wants to take the test.’
    ‘He should then,’ Acharya said.
    ‘This year, he wants to take it.’
    ‘In April?’
    ‘Yes, Sir.’
    ‘Are you crazy?’
    ‘I know it sounds like that, Sir. But he says he will pass the test.’
    ‘And what does he want to do after he passes the test?’
    ‘Maths, I think.’
    ‘He said that?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Ayyan, are you seriously suggesting that I allow a ten-year-old boy to take the JET?’
    ‘He is eleven, Sir.’
    ‘It’s still crazy.’
    ‘It’s entirely your decision, Sir.’
    ‘He might be an exceptional boy, Ayyan, but ten thousand not-very-dumb graduates take the test. Only a hundred make it.’
    ‘I know, Sir. I just thought I would ask. I also know that, according to the rules, a candidate has to be at least a graduate to qualify for the exam.’
    ‘Forget the rules. It’s just that I find it ridiculous that a boy of eleven should be allowed to take the test.’
    ‘I thought I would ask because he is so keen.’
    ‘No way,’ Acharya said, a bit amused now at the thought of a little boy having a shot at the Institute’s entrance exam. ‘The Joint Entrance Test is not some joke meant to entertain a boy,’ he said.
    ‘I know what you mean, Sir.’
    ‘And what’s wrong with the coffee these days? It tastes chemical.’
    ‘I will ask the peons to be careful, Sir.’
    As Ayyan was about to leave, Acharya said, ‘Wait.’ He toyed with the meteorite paperweight and appeared to consult hisreasonable conscience. He asked, in a soft voice, ‘The boy will be disappointed?’
    ‘That’s all right, Sir.’
    ‘That, of course, is all right with me too. What I asked was, will he be upset?’
    ‘A bit, Sir, but that’s all right.’
    ‘I’ll write a letter to him personally explaining why he cannot take the test. I will write to him saying that he is too young to take the test. OK?’
    ‘Thank you so much, Sir.’
    ‘So don’t break the bad news to him now,’ Acharya said in a soft conspiratorial tone, ‘Wait until I give you the letter. You understand?’
    ‘Yes, Sir.’
    Ayyan went back to his desk and exhaled. He had thought that the