THE PROJECT SCRAMBLE - I
"Tomorrow is the last day for project submission. If you don't do it, I will fail you and you can hang around another year."
With these I've-got-you-now words, our smug HoD plunged the class into a deathly silence. Everyone had forgotten about this. No work throughout the semester. No escape to a cinema hall. And now, as the old bore left the class, I realised that the day before the day was inescapably here.
My best friend since childhood, my partner in pain, my ever faithful companion Baksheesh, seated right next to me, looked at me and said,
"I'm hungry. Can we go to the canteen?".
This was just another of those thousands of moments over the last few years when I wanted to give a face-disfiguring slap to Baksheesh. He never ever reacts proportionately to a situation. And I've been taking in all his anomalies since his childhood.
"Ass. We need to get the project done."
"So what yaar? We'll do a nightout at my place."
In theory, a nightout is where the impossible can be done. Yes sir. Someday, you might hear that "Rome was built in a nightout" or a movie like "Around the world in a nightout".
"Fine but no distractions today", I said in a sincere voice.
"Ok. Can we just pick up a movie along the way. I will need it to stay awake through the night."
Baksheesh, my best friend, is a born vacuum. But he is a stable vacuum. He can do nothing right...but at the same time, nothing wrong. He definitely wasn't wrong being born in a crorepati's family for a start. But you have to wonder why Baksheesh didn't get even 1% of his bigshot scientist-father's brains.
But if myself and Baksheesh managed to stay out of all the blues, the trauma, the temptations and the mobbings through these four years, it is thanks to him. So, I just do things in his company knowing his protective coating is arounda me too. But don't be fooled. He is as much a danger to be with as to be without.
Later in the evening, after a short stop over at my house (which is a couple of lanes from Baksheesh's huge four storey mansion), we went to his place. We panted up the posh and polished teak staircase, through all the richly decorated floors, and into his room on the third floor. It had a large bed , understandable for someone of Baksheesh's size, an indulgent looking wardrobe, a large TV with an XBox connected to it , a powerful and wasted PC by the window, and an unused teak study table in the corner. I think his text books were donated to some library. After assembling some paper, some glue, some cardboard and sketch pens, we got down to work. Wait, this is the digital era. I just switched on his sleek computer. Baks took the paper.
Ofcourse the situation was close to hopeless. Here's how: I started something two months ago with the intent of presenting it as my project. It hasn't been touched since. There is no way in hell it could be done tonight, because in practice, nightouts are about prank calls and snoring away to glory. However, under this end-of-semester pressure, I still had the Baksheesh factor. I was always saved because he did something so insightful and yet so simple to bail us out from disaster. I could recollect a dozen events, but I think I'll keep them for later. So, confident of yet another spectacular escapade, I started thinking.
I started poking around sourceforge.net to see if there was something I could download.
Time flies when you don't know where you are going right? Around dinner time, I decided to do a review. I had listed a CRM , a testing tool, and a franchisee management program for download. I asked Baksheesh to show me what he had done. I expected some cartoons but he had mused some shocker ideas. My ideas were simply run of the mill. His ideas could mercilessly run over the mill. And any poor workers.
"Baksheesh, that isn't the way yaar. The HoD won't buy those ideas.", I told him, swaying on the rotatable chair. He really needed some orientation from me now.
Baksheesh theoretised "Look dude, even if you download those programs , you are not going to be able answer his questions. He knows these mundane things only too well. We should do something which will go over his head."
I stopped dead in my tracks. I stared in disbelief at this now former dumbass. "Over his head"? Why, ofcourse! This was a brilliant old ploy we always used in times of distress.
I always believed that if you are under-prepared, you should attack. Especially during vivas or lab exams. What I mean to say is that if you don't know the subject, rant away things which you know will go over the questioner's head. I shut down the computer, and took his paper in my hands.
Apart from some obscene ideas, when Baksheesh might have thought we were in an MBBS course, here are the results of his imagination.
Instantaneous AIDS tester (Finds out if you have AIDS, immediately)
Brain-to-computer interface (Connects the computer to your spine)
Predictive TV channel changer (changes TV channels automatically, perhaps irritatingly)
Laughing gas - applications in the future as a HR tool
Milkmaid - fuelling the world at less than 70$ a barrel
(Baksheesh loved Milkmaid so much, he thought even cars would run if you gave them some. Sounds cute does it? Try a roadtrip with him)
The great Indian rope trick (now using computer cables).
I stop here as after this the quality of his thinking started degenerating quickly. After a while of debate, we shortlisted the Instantaneous AIDS tester and Brain-to-computer interface. The criterion was "complication beyond practical verifiability", ahem, to use one's vocabulary.
Let us see, an AIDS tester? Baksheesh's father had a huge in-house laboraratory on the second floor which he used on weekends. That had a lot of things straight from a James Bond movie. Of course, we could take something by asking him, but we wouldn't live to use'em. He'd probably slaughter us twice, once for thinking about his lab, and once for not doing our project. We tip-toed downstairs carefully till we reached the lab at the end of the long granite floored lobby. Baksheesh opened the big , grey, decolamped door. Out rushed a small wind of chilled air. This large dark room was silent to the point of being eerie.
I remembered my childhood fantasies of fighting monster machines after watching Terminator 2. They were all imagined as taking place in this lab. It had grown since into something I am more intimidated by than to be taken on a trip.
Once there is someone in this huge lab, a sensor activates the lights and the air conditioners. As the tube lights blinked to stability, lo behold, once again I saw some really outlandish equipment. The silvery metal robots, the silent, blinking lights, a quite computer which was busy in some mammoth calculations, God knows for how long now...we could only see a few metres far as there were large machines down the room upto the end. The slow humming of the a.c. started, and we began looking for the cupboard where Baks's father kept all his basic circuit components. 'Basic' components for him wouldn't be in our range so we needed to look for some second rate place. Like his trash can.
We soon found a large covered trash can which was coated with a layer of black rubber for grounding. We silently started rummaging through it. Amazingly, Baks had kept his mouth shut so far. Maybe this room scared him too.
Let us see, an instantaneous AIDS tester? We only needed a syringe to your hand and connected to it, a complex looking circuit which flashes a green light if you are clean, or a red light if you aren't (and perhaps a "get well soon message"). The result was never going to be verifiable.
And so, in a short frenzy which lasted about 15 minutes, we found the components,wired'em up and screwed them together. Same for the Brain-to-computer interace which just needed some horrific looking sharp plug for the spine, and with it, a complex circuit being connected to the computer.
Within about half an hour of searching , sorting and testing, we got our two most original creations ready and blinking. What would I do without Baksheesh? We soon left the lab as carefully as we came in, and the lights and ac switched themselves off.
Back at his room, we assembled everything we needed for the next day. The circuits, some important looking books and other stuff. Baksheesh kindly ordered some pizza for us, which we finished very quickly. Just before I left for my house, at around midnight, we went up to the terrace. There was no other four storeyed building within a mile. The breeze was so enjoyable. Gazing at the standout airport in front of us, we felt awesome. The runaway was shining in the bright orange lights. As a plane started to take off, I felt rather proud to be there. Our HoD was a tough man to please and was mostly bent on troubling candis like Baks and me. And before us lay the the last test. But here was our last audacious retort.