Mango Chutney: An Anthology of Tasteful Short Fiction. (16 page)

 

“Then won’t you have an incentive to lose? Also, you are betting on me
and I have no stake?”

“Suggest one,” the Austrian responded.
“We shall split. If I win, I get 75 Euros.”
“And if you lose?”
“You wanted to sleep? You can have my seat.”

“Ordnung. I will deal the cards. Always keep tab of your points. Do not
ask me my score and if you say your score aloud you might as well sit on
the floor between the compartments,” the Austrian started to shuffle the
entire deck. He placed the pile face up. The first card visible was a Nine
of diamonds.

“I thought you said we play with 20 cards. You just shuffled 52.”

“That is because my friend is an arse,” the other Austrian said. Quickly
flipping through the stack of Coca Cola printed cards, he took out the
suit of Ace, 10, King, Queen, and Jack. He placed the 32 cards face down
on his lap and handed his friend the smaller set. With a slight smirk, the
Austrian shuffled the deck and then deals one card to himself and one
card to the girl. This process went on until both of them had exactly
three cards. He then took the top card from the stack and kept it on the
plastic table. It was a king of red diamonds. “Not too valuable.” He then
proceeded to deal two additional cards to each of the players.

“Are you ready? I am the dealer. So it’s your trick first”
“My trick?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“I thought you played cards? You must be familiar with the…how to say,
wortschwall.”

 

“Wort-s- wall? The verbiage is different in India ie. khelo/dalo. I am as-
suming that trick means: it is my move first.”

 

“Yes. Sure.” he said, exasperated.

She looked at the stiff pieces of paper in her hand and could not remem
-
ber the point values. “Ace, 10, King, Queen, and Jack—that’s the order,”
she said to herself. Her cards were average. Mostly kings, queens, and
jacks. It was unlikely that any of those cards would get her points. She
nervously placed a Jack of diamonds face down.

The Austrian looked at her expression of uncertainty and showed her the
card he would have put down. He took both.

“The trump is diamonds. She should have just swapped the cards. I
would have still won the set. But I would get an extra two points,” he said
in German.

The Austrian took a fresh card from the top of the pile. The girl saw him
and followed. She got a better card. Her first Ace, the most valuable sign
in this game. But it should not be played yet. The trick to these games was
patience. People tended to bet early to win quick points. Slow and steady.
She reminded herself.

The Austrian put down a king of clubs. Before her card touched the
table, he said, “I’d like to announce a marriage.” He shows her the Queen
of Clubs. With that the Austrian wins another set and another 26 points.
There are only 5 cards left in the deck. The Austrian has 41 points. She
has none.
“Either she is not lucky and got a shit hand or she is stupid,” the Austrian
whispered to his friend.

“Or you were a bad teacher. Since you are winning- it appears to be the
season of miracles. There is always a first,” his friend retorted.
“Halt’s Maul.”

She put an ace face down. He put a 10. Her point. Two more rounds and
the side deck was exhausted. The rules of the game changed to become
more competitive.

“You have to put down the card of highest value,” the Austrian ex-
plained.

“Why?” she asks.
“Why? Because it is the rule. I don’t make them. I follow them.”

“Typical. Germans…Austrians…they are all the same. So much empha
-
sis on order, discipline, and structure. I don’t understand it. Why can’t I
play with the cards I want to?”

“Order is not mandatory. But it keeps things civilized. Without it, we
would all be barbaric. Like the Italians or the Greeks.”

“We don’t have rules in my country. Actually we do; it is just that no one
ever follows them. Yet everything seems to function Fine. Organized
chaos.”

“Fine. The word you used was fine. In Austria, we don’t like that word.”
“Sorry should I have said—Fun, Spontaneous, Unexpected?”

“I think you were looking for—Irritating, Inefficient? I heard when Bill
Clinton came to India, members of parliament took off their shoes and
banged them on the desks. Then again, it is also said that when your
Prime Minister speaks, shoes are often thrown at him.”

“Not necessarily true. Anyway, all these things are done with the spirit of
entertaining. We have this system in India. ‘All is Well’. Just keep remind-
ing yourself of that and all will be well.”
“I wanted to go to India once. I thought about it. The French particularly
rave about the madhouse. They keep going on and on about the spirit
and the energy. But I think it is all a bit barbaric. Bottles of energy waiting
to explode inside 1 billion people.”

“And so what do you do? Sit back and live a Pleasantville life like ev
-
ery other person. What is that German song? I think it’s by Marteria…
Kids?

Everyone’s got a job- I’ve got boredom!
Nobody’s up to smoke, drink, party anymore…
Everybody’s playing golf, driving a Passat
Nobody’s tattooing Wu-Tang on their ass
’”

“Ahh yes. I remember after hearing it, I thought about getting Wu-Tang
Clan tattooed on my ass… and then I realized that I had my own sense
of fun that did not involve sitting on the sofa smoking the whole stuff
alone and saying Peng! Peng! Peng!”

She chuckled. “I’m glad you are literate in German music. It is refreshing.
Whose turn is it? I have forgotten the points.”

 

“Of course you have. It is my turn. Remember- highest card.” He put
down his card. It was a 10. The round went to her.

 

“She is catching up,” his friend retorted in German as he opened a bag
of salted peanuts.

“Its not a race.” The Austrian replied.
His friend turned to the girl. “Do you want some?”
“Yes please. I haven’t had nuts in a long time,” she replied.

His friend handed her the bag but did not respond. He peered out of
the train window. Everything was still pitch black. He could see the faint
outlines of trees and mountains. For some reason they appeared darker
than the sky. A few more moments passed in silence.

“Sometimes, I think we should take these train rides in the morning. We
would actually get to see the countryside and where we are going,” the
Austrian friend said.

“Is the Eastern European country side as beautiful as the west?” she
asked.

“More. Western Europe is too commercial. Everyone sees the post card
images of Spanish beaches and French Alps. You should take the train
through the Petrads or to Innsbruck.”

“You have explored Europe well.”

“Yes- but only Europe. My friends have never wanted to venture outside
of the continent. They say everything one can possibly want to see is
already here.”

“Seems a bit farfetched. If you haven’t seen anything beyond Europe,
how would you know whether you are missing anything or not?”

“I guess…but when I am on a train, I just want some peace and quiet.
My surroundings end up blurring into a canvas like a Jackson Pollock
painting.”

“Peace? Clearly, you have chosen the right companion.”

A hint of a smile appeared on the Austrian’s face. He quickly suppressed
it, as if to hide any emotion that would reveal a reality beyond thegrouchy
disposition he had been portraying through the evening.

“If you two ladies are done chattering, can we get back to the game?”
The Austrian said impatiently.

 

Ace. Queen. Her point. 10. King. Her point. Each player had two cards
left.

The Austrian paused. All he needed was 1 more point. Just one trick.
That was all. She was playing her cards well. She started off with the
weaker cards and collected the stronger ones. She didn’t use them. She
held onto them as if waiting for the right time. But there were only 2
more tricks left. He waited for her to place down her card.

She was undecided. The problem was- she could not remember how
many points she had. Actually, she didn’t remember the point system at
all or the phrase to end the game. Arschloch. She certainly could not take
a chance. What if she was short of the 66 points and could have won the
game with the next 2 tricks. No. It would be better for her to place her
cards down and wait.

While she was thinking, the Austrian turns to his friend “I am hungry.
How long till we reach? The Hungarians have perfected bakeries. The
French get it all wrong. Too much butter and cream. If it was not for the
amount they smoked they would all be fat.”

“Few more hours. But I still think we should have come for Sziget. It is
the main reason why everyone goes to Budapest.”

“Budapest is a nice city to explore. Like Turkey mixed with Austria. And
as you said, the food is excellent. But I guess if you just want a cheap
pretty party spot, you might as well go to Prague. The Czechs are less
depressing than the Hungarians.”

“Nothing like the Viennese.”

They looked at each and burst into roaring laughter. Palms were slapped,
shoulders curled forward, and bodies were hunched. Even the girl looked
up a bit startled as the “Haa” sound bounced off the four walls to create
a multiplier effect of the laughter.

“Shut up assholes!” The American squinted and slurred. It seemed as
if he had finally awoken. He leaned in. Looked around at the people
surrounding him. They were all gazing at him in confusion. He got up.
Smiled. Turned over both cards. And took 75 Euros from the table.

***
16.
The Lost Cause
Krishnaroop Dey

Crossing off dates in the calendar filled me with a sense of dread as the
days to my indoctrination numbered. I was enrolled to a Cause and the
horrors of its training awaited me in two days. It was a sudden and unex-
pected shift from being sprawled calmly on my couch enjoying the better
pleasures of life aka post board-exam vacations, watching the reruns of
a Bollywood movie without being of any inconvenience or menace to
the world, when my parents barged in asking questions about the life and
the universe, finally leading to my future.

I had often fancied archaeology but they feigned ignorance about it.
Instead, they suggested engineering, a suggestion which in ten minutes
turned into a decree that sealed and bonded onto what now were the
ruins of my archaeological dreams.

Later, I came to know what had prompted in them this sudden urge to
decide on my future, It was the traffic signal at the main square of our
remote town which had become a centre of attraction with four huge
billboards adorning it, all guaranteeing success. Boldly proclaiming their
swanky infrastructure – most probably just a white board with a marker,
and their esteemed faculty –a bunch of scholars with a mid-life crisis.
Their past records that none could verify for all four boards had the pic-
ture of the same fellow having cracked the exam – a mystery the world
was still coming to terms with. Why would someone want to study the
same thing four times?

He didn’t look like any of the fellows I had been to school with; he
had a mane of hair over his face, his glasses were askew, the remaining
visible parts of his face all spotty and that expression of having lost a
childhood. The billboard, though, had seduced my parents into making
me study to pass an entrance exam to get admitted into a place I had no
idea of.

Four days later we sat in front of a Man in a suit. I have always noticed
how they tend to leave an impression, be it the lead speaker in our
school functions or my neighbor in his coffin, the suits would bode well
with the importance of the occasion. Two days earlier we had heard him
at a seminar where his voice boomed over the cheap surround system,
as he fumbled his way in the stage through the maze of wires connect-
ing the various acoustics. His sermon espoused targeting goals having
proper aims, with anecdotes spread over mythical heroes of archery and
their pinpoint precision although nobody mentions the unfortunate tar-
gets of this precision. He later elaborated on the Cause and the intended
destination it leads to.

For the record, that was the first time I heard of IIT – a word which was
to become central to my existence for the next two years. This was the
place where only the most courageous at heart, the purest of souls, the
prototypes of intelligence are permitted. A place that rewards those who
persevere and ignores those who reek of mediocrity.

However, I was wary of any propaganda after recently having seen a
documentary on the cons of world wrestling entertainment that had
marred an important part of my childhood, and made me lose my faith
in humanity. I would, nowadays, question everything and was wonder-
ing if it could be a full time job. The Questioner – fed, watered and fully
clothed.

“You.” Suits voice reverberated in the air-conditioned room as his gaze
pierced at me, bringing me back to the present. A huge cupboard filled
with books, all of them having the word IIT on their covers, was behind
Suits. The harassed achiever from the billboard too had his framed pic-
ture behind, this time in an overtly uncomfortable embrace with Suits.

“I know you have it in you,” said Suits to me. “You just need the right
focus, ample amount of dedication and you could be molded into an
achiever. You have to believe in the Cause. You have the attitude; you
just need the right push.”

On hearing this, my father’s face beamed. In the markets of the educa
-
tion system, I had been until then only an above-average stock and now
I was being considered a game changer. It was here I knew that anything
else I did was never going to please him.

As the day to my joining the coaching institute neared, the rumours sur
-
rounding the Cause increased in size and complexity. They ranged from
weird (people forsaking all kinds of hygiene including brushing teeth
and shaving to save time) to bizarre (people walking on burning pyres to
reach paranormal levels of motivation) to utter outlandish (a few chosen
ones trained in a clandestine underground facility near the deserts of
Rajasthan, akin to area 51 in Roswell where alien research is conducted)
to crack the entrance exam.