Yes, Varun Shyamak did this. He did it. He had just done something that could make all my theories on him being one of the sickest misers on the face of the earth go wrong. If Ram Gopal Verma starts making good movies, Chetan Bhagat starts writing like Jeffery Archer or Zayed Khan learns acting this would still be the most incredible thing to happen in this decade for Varun Shyamak had just bought a shining new Guitar, yes a first hand, shining new guitar from his own money. For a person who used to wear one underwear for 6 days and live the Sunday without it as long as the washed underwear dries in sun and who still used his school time water bottle to store water, buying a guitar is like a cosmic event that happens once in a millennium and it was not an electronic guitar but the one which works without electricity (I have no idea what this version is called). As we kept on looking incredulously at him for an instance and the guitar at the other, he had taken the guitar out, sat down on the stool with his legs crossed and was holding the guitar striking an expert guitarist pose.
He kept sitting in that pose looking outside the window for some 5 minutes without striking the wire. Finally someone, I don’t remember who it was, asked, “Varun! How come you got interested in Guitar?” He looked up as if he had just been woken up from a dream of Mallika Sherawat, gave a smile, looked in some other direction and after some 30 seconds replied “Music is just ‘cool’. People who can play an instrument specially the Guitar are considered very ‘cool’. True story!”
I am not sure of the validity of his statements but one thing I am pretty sure that these two words ‘hot’ and ‘cool’ (was originally kewl) have confused an entire generation of age group between 14 and 34 and made them do stuff which they would had not done in good sense under normal circumstances. Not very long ago these terms were only used for weather, food or other such stuff but now it is used to tag people as likeable or not likeable. So you have girls literally starving themselves to get a size zero, a number which we hated when we were in school, guys forced to smoke, to wear low waist jeans and branded boxers, forced to follow soccer leagues and shout Man U, Chelsea, Rooney shit and walk with a swagger with I-POD or a poor cousin of I-POD stuck to their heads and listening hard rock(no pun intended) music just for one particular reason and that is a feeling to be ‘cool’ and more precisely to be ‘like others’. Hitting the gym is no longer a way to stay fit but it is a means to the end of wearing skin hugging clothes and walk as if the whole body has been tied in bamboo sticks. To add to the confusion these terms do not have a clear-cut definition. To be like most others is ‘cool’ and to be different is also ‘cool’. Intelligent person can be called ‘cool’ or called a ‘nerd’; loud mouthed morons who talk with ‘fuck’ and ‘ass’ in every sentence can be called ‘cool’ too. Thus it gives rise to another set of people who do neither of the above mentioned things but look sane and sober even when they are drunk, for they feel that is the way to be ‘cool’ or the other reason is that either they are too lazy or too busy to hit the gym and walk like both legs running in opposite direction causing the body to sway in different directions. For them, social networking sites come to rescue. They will spend hours to find a suitable status update and then refresh the page every 5 seconds with the hope of a comment or a like and this process will repeat multiple times a day.
Varun Shyamak was no different in the fact that he wanted to be cool, but with Varun obsession is not a mere obsession but it transforms into desperation. He had done everything in his power to appear different or ‘cool’. Of course he was too miser to hit a gym or buy an I-Pod. For him the idea had been to sound intellectual and look intelligent. He was often seen carrying around magazines like Frontline, Business today, and Discovery channels journal or National Geographic journal and he managed to read at least one article which he would bring out at a later time in a public place but sadly enough none of heads would ever turn when he started whining of the new economic policy or how monkeys have a weaker heart. Of course he always had a copy of Debonair just under his pillow but fortunately he did not discuss its content in public. Then for some time he had turned into a facebook addict hoping this would get him the attention of opposite sex that he so desperately needed. He would update every minute details like “Getting late to work, but can’t find my shoe police”, “The traffic in this city sucks. The metro is becoming a must”, “Just screwed up at work. ****** boss is pissed up” and this would continue the whole day. However, he stopped it after some 3 weeks when he realized that he did not receive any ‘like’ or any ‘comment’ on his status. He had done everything in his power but he was as far from being ‘cool’ as Arjun Singh is from sanity. But now he has gone out of his league. He had spent more money that he had spent in an entire year preceding it on this instrument not because he wanted to learn it, but he wanted to look cool.
“Why don’t you play it?” said Rachit who had till now been eyeing the Guitar like a kid eyes a lollypop.
“I have learnt ‘Addicted’ on Youtube. Will you like to listen to it?” said Varun.
“Sure. Play it” said Saurav.
Varun placed the guitar in his lap, wiped the strings looking at them with the eye of an aesthete. He then put the straps on his shoulder and again held the Guitar like an expert, looked outside the window at some strange object as if praying at that divine object. We waited patiently for around 1 minute when he finally struck a note. What followed was 2 minutes of utter torture in which Varun closed his eyes and played a tone which in no way looked like addicted and with it he was also trying to sing ‘addicted’ in a fake accent. I had occasionally heard Anu Malik singing ‘Dekho Barish ho rahi hai’, I had seen Sunny Deol dancing and I had seen two Ram Gopal Verma movies in a single day, but I had never felt like throwing up like I did that day. And to add to that Varun seemed to be in no mood to stop.
I had had enough after those two minutes. I said “Ok Ok!!! Stop Now. Enough.” He stopped looked around probably expecting an applause. He waited for some more time and said, “You people want to listen ‘Kal ho na ho’, I learned to play that too and I know the full lyrics.”
“Varun! We know you are singing, you know you are singing. But, for neighbors it may appear that we are torturing you.” As soon as I said it Rachit got a fit of laughter attack. He held his stomach and started laughing hysterically and after some seconds he was sitting on the floor still laughing inconsolably while Saurav and Ramesh tried to pick him up laughing themselves while Vikash was chuckling silently.
Varun looked rather nonchalant even as others were bursting out. Finally the laughter resided and Ramesh said “It’s not bad yar! Tomorrow let’s say if he loses his job Varun can play this thing on roadsides and I am sure people will have to pay him to stop.” Listening to this Rachit got a relapse of the fit he just had and this time even Vikash Sir giggled.
Varun looked humiliated but either he had got used to it or he did not have balls to hit back, so he kept quiet and kept adjusting the Guitar in different position. Finally Vikash Sir said “Why don’t you join classes if you really want to learn it?” Vikash Sir always liked to play the big brother role to us and would always give advice on everything and we would generally take it without a second thought and mostly it turned out to be the right one. But then this was not Ramesh, Saurav or me, it was Varun. He said “No need to do that. You can learn it on Youtube. The classes charge around 1000 per month for only weekend course and it generally takes more than 6 months to learn it.” I looked at Ramesh and gave him a ‘here he goes’ expression.
Varun was not finished, “You see there was recently an article in The Week about a person who learned a lot of things on Youtube” Now Ramesh looked at me and gave me the ‘here he goes’ expression as Varun continued, “that man learned musical instruments, driving and lot of such stuff from Youtube. He also learned how to handle wife’s pregnancy by it.”
There was no point arguing him so I, Saurav and Ramesh slipped out to dinner silently leaving all of them to settle it among themselves. While on the way we met Harpreet who was returning after another long day at work. We informed him that Varun had bought a Guitar and he was shocked but then said, “Ha! He must have borrowed it from someone or stolen it.”
“No he showed us the bill and it was duly packed” Saurav informed.
“Someone must have gifted it to him” said Harpreet.
“Nai yaar!!! He has bought it. Remember only predictable thing about him is unpredictability” I said.
“How on earth do you come up with such remarks” said Harpreet and I just smiled back.
“Anyway, you people carry on. I had my dinner in the office canteen” he said and walked away.
We strolled around for an hour or so after dinner and came back around 9:30 and we saw Varun and Rachit sitting heads bent into Rachit’s laptop. When I reached closer I saw that they had opened Youtube and seeing the video of a man playing the Guitar and playing some unrecognizable tune. Varun was trying to imitate it and producing some different harmonics which only he and Rachit were able to understand. Ramesh shook his head and went out to balcony and lit his cigarette. I joined him there so did Harpreet, although both of us did not smoke. Suddenly, Dipti, the girl next door appeared on her balcony, seeing whom Ramesh threw his cigarette and adjusted his hair very subtly. I signaled her ‘hi’ and she smiled back with a ‘Hi’. Ramesh followed suit and got the same reply. Our interaction with her was limited to that ‘Hi’ only even though she was living here for last 6 months, as she lived with her family and her father was a retired Air Force Lieutenant, and we did not want to screw things up. She always seemed cheerful and was a perfect girl next door, not exactly gorgeous, but nice homely look and very beautiful eyes and she always wore Indian outfits. Whenever we looked at her she smiled back and always replied to our greetings, but then once Varun had tried it and she had straightway walked back inside. Well this wasn’t entirely her fault. Varun was not a jerk but often girls took a first look at him and drawn their conclusion that he is one of the biggest jerk available on this planet, for Varun always looked like contemplating and his eyes always wander in different directions and it appeared that he was always drunk and to add to that his tone of speaking is like he is instructing and not talking.
She stood there for quite some time seemingly enjoying the calm winds. Suddenly Varun came there with his new instrument. She was about to leave but she stopped and looked intently at the Guitar without saying any word. Varun behaved as if he had not seen her even as her eyes were fixed on the Guitar. Ramesh and I looked at each other as if saying to each other “Shit, it works.”
Varun also thought so and he started in a fake English accent sounding like a Tamil anna speaking Punjabi “You know Guitar is just Physics. You see when this string is struck it produces
harmonics and causes a resonance in wood. Now, if the harmonics are formed correctly it is music and if not it is noise. Isn’t it strange? Everything is Physics. Why don’t you people give it a try?”
“Varun, why don’t you play it? Play that song again.” Ramesh had caught him off guard.
“I have been playing it for more than an hour now. My fingers are hurting” Varun cooked an excuse and was still talking in his fake accent.
“Please Varun, just one song. Play the ‘addicted’ again. I insist” I said.
“Yar Jeet, it’s more than 10 P.M. and it is illegal to play it now.” He said and this time he forgot to speak in that fake accent.
We kept on requesting him and he kept on refusing. All the while Dipti looked very amused as if fighting to hold back her laughter and she left finally. Varun looked crestfallen but he did not say a word. We went back to our rooms to sleep feeling victorious.
Next morning while I was about to leave to office Varun stopped me, “Hey Jeet, Can you do me a favour?”
“Yes tell me.” I said knowing full well that this was not a good idea.
“In your way to your office there is some teacher named ‘Kajal’ who teaches music somewhere just near the Accenture building. Can you just find some information about it?”
I was getting late so I did not ask what made him change his mind and promised him that I will do that. However, I forgot totally about it while I was coming back and so when Varun asked me about it when he came back I had two options. One, tell the truth and two, make it fun. Truth that is not fun is useless. So I cooked up some facts. I told him, “Yes I found out by some students and she teaches very well, but she is very strict. Remember when you go there touch her feet and also before entering open your shoes. Remember, she has a very short temper. If you don’t do these things she will not take you as a student.”
“Oh is it? How about the fees?”
“She said that she will talk only to the student and she has many options available and you can choose which one you want.” I was going on making facts and he believed it. You may be having bitter feelings as you read this, but let me state this fact if I fool someone once then it is shame on me, twice then shame on the person whom I fooled and more than twice then you have to agree that either I am a genius or that person is dumb. So in both cases it is not me who was at fault when you consider what happened on the following Saturday.
The following Saturday I had woken up late and was slowly going through the daily routines when around 11 A.M Varun came to my room and asked “Hey Jeet! Can you do me a favor?”
I hate when people ask me this question. Of course, I CAN do the favor but what if I don’t WANT to do it, this question should be as ‘Will you do me a favor’ but anyhow I replied “What?”
He paused. Looked around and waited another 10 seconds to reply “I have asked Vikash Sir for his bike. As I don’t know how to drive can you drop me to the classes? I want you to come because you have already talked to madam. And I will pay for the petrol. I know you may not want to come by bus this early so I asked for bike.”
I had no intention to go but I could not miss seeing Varun touching the feet of the teacher and making her freak out. But there was a twist. It was a fact that even I did not know at that time and it was that the teacher was not Mrs. Kajal, and no no, it was not even Miss Kajal, but it was Mr. Kajal! I don’t know why some men keep names which sound girly, names like ‘Mehndi, Tulsi, Bindu, Anshu, Sonal and even Dimple.
So, as Varun said I took him there and parked the bike. He requested me to come in as well which I would have done anyway. I had drawn a mental picture of Varun going and touching her feet making her shocked. Varun did everything as explained by me. He opened his shoes and placed them aside, even as others walked by wearing their shoes and looking at him incredulously. He asked me to open mine but I said “I am not a student so why should I” fighting hard to hold back laughter.
When we went inside we saw a lady sitting in the center holding the guitar. She was wearing a traditional white Salwar Kameez and was sitting in the posture of a music goddess. We both had confused her to be the Kajal Madam. She looked much younger that what I had anticipated. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and was drop dead gorgeous with a pair of most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. I thought it would be even more fun and signaled him to touch her feet. Somehow Varun was idiot enough to do it even as he saw some twenty others not doing it.
The lady seemed aghast as Varun charged towards her with hands folded and as he bent down and even before he was able to touch her feet there roared a sound of a thundering slap and Varun’s spectacles were thrown away. Suddenly a lot of other students caught hold of him and the girl was complaining that he was misbehaving with her. People were calling call “Kajal SIR”. It was then that it dawned upon me that Kajal was the name of a man. Not sure what to do, I picked out the best option. I silently fled from there.
As I was about to start me bike and rush, I suddenly saw Dipti standing there. She waved me ‘hi’ and after looking around that her father or any guard was not there I moved my bike towards her and asked “Hey Dipti! What are you doing here?”
“I learn traditional dance here.” she said.
Suddenly the picture became clear to me as to why Varun bought a Guitar and why he chose this class. I silently laughed as again his master plan had gone begging.
“And Jeet what are you doing here?” she asked.
I was amazed that she knew my name; of course she may have overheard it just like we had overheard her name. “I came here to drop my roommate who wanted to learn Guitar.”
“You mean that jerk guy who keeps making strange faces” she said rather innocently.
“What! Why do you think so?”
“I don’t know. He always keeps looking with …eh … with those eyes” she said widening her eyes and drawing her nose forward slightly.
“Ya, but those are his normal eyes” I said and smiled and also looked back to confirm he has not come back. She laughed at this remark and I asked “Hey how are you going back?”
“I will take the 335E” she said pointing at bus stop.
I said “Hey you want to come with me. I am going straight home. If you don’t mind I will drop you.” She hesitated and I added “Don’t worry you can pay me the same amount you pay for that bus. You see, I am a little hard on cash” I said and winked. She laughed and sat back on the bike and I added “Don’t worry I had met just two accidents and in both cases the person sitting behind did not die” and to which she replied, “There is always a first time” and then added “but you drop me some blocks before my house, otherwise, you don’t know my father.”
I did the same. We talked some stuff on the way and I let multiple calls from Varun go unattended in the meantime. She gave me her number as well but I never called back as I was petrified by her father although Ramesh and I sent her a few messages in a week, and we stopped it as soon as she SMSed that her dad asked who were ‘Rama’ and ‘Abhilasha’ the names with which she stored Ramesh’s and mine number respectively all the time.
Varun came back in the evening and I expected that he will be pissed at me and we will have a big fight. But he pulled me aside and simply asked me not to tell anyone about it. He also recounted what all had happened after I ran away. Kajal sir had come and Varun had explained him the event and since he found it rather amusing, they let him go. Also he told me that that girl had apologized after that, a fact whose validity I am not very sure of. I spent some time laughing about what had happened. Varun looked angry but he did not offend me. I think I also apologized to him about what happened although I didn’t really mean it.
Next day Varun sold back his Guitar at 70% of the cost he had bought it and then he never bought any musical instrument again. I felt slightly guilty for it but then the whole event was too funny to feel bad for him for a long time. I promised him I will not talk about it to any living soul and I did keep that promise. Anyhow I had never said anything about writing about it for I have to write about it, for it gave me one of the biggest lessons in life, which was ‘never assume that names have a gender’. Had I known Kajal was the name of a man the whole story could have been entirely different. But then great mistakes are always born from small mistakes. True story.
