Won but Lost

Today when I stand here, smiling for the media, with the glass award in my right hand and my book in the left, my eyes are still searching him in the crowd, but to no avail. To me he would always be the only person I envied, for his talent, for his outlook, for his life. I see my wife in a red gown smiling at me. I also spot her, with anger in her eyes. I know she will never forgive me for what happened. But that is what winning is. More than you make friends, more than people you love, you make enemies, lose friends. I can never come to terms with her, and to him I will always be a loser even if I hold the trophy and walk down the stage…

—

… to my seat in the lecture hall. It was a hot summer afternoon with an archaic ceiling fan to our relief.

– Have you even read the lecture notes?

I was silent, just as the whole class was.

– It’s because of students like you that people have started doubting the quality of intake in this institute. What do they call you, creme-de-la-creme? My ass.

I was silent, just as the whole class was. It was a tutorial session on Theory of Computation, for which we were supposed to read through the lecture notes and solve a tutorial sheet with five problems in it. I had spent the time reading two novels by Rushdie, back to back, and of course did none of the two tasks expected of us before the session.

– Anyone else?

I heard a smirk, and, as expected, he stood up. I was sitting on the left most side of the third wooden bench and as he crossed me, exhaling a heavy breath that was supposed to be a derogatory laughter, I cringed. After five minutes of scribbling Latin letters with multiple subscripts and superscripts, he came back. While crossing me again, he whispered – “Tat-taa! Taka Thun!”

With that he wanted me to know that he had also read The Satanic Verses and that I had no edge over him. His expertise in our departmental courses was not balanced out by mine in Humanities.

—

When I was elected the Secretary of Photography Club following a four month long frenzy of college politics, he came up to me and said

– You know the difference between an Enemy and a Rival?
– Would you care to explain? (I said, laughing his question off with my friends joining in for some fun)
– Enmity is destructive while Rivalry is constructive. You knew I would win this election and I know what you did with all the dealing of the Annual Hostel Cup.
– That’s what politics is, my enemy-slash-rival. I hope you would add its meaning to your two word long dictionary.
– I never think of you as my enemy, not because I am afraid of you, but because it will take me nowhere. But I will prove to you that you have just made yourself my biggest rival.

Five months later his girlfriend slept with me after one of the college fest night meetings where she was representing the Sponsorship Team. I think a major reason why we fell for each other was the common element of his presence in both of our lives, and mine in both of theirs. I wanted to fail him, yet again for his arrogance. And lately, he had been extremely worried about his loss and that had taken a toll on their relationship. He had gone crazy, working his ass out to end up with a perfect 10 that year, just to prove that he was better than me. Better? with his girlfriend by my side? Haah.

—

I opted out of the placement process. In the course-end party, for which my Elements of Narrative Art professor was famous for, he came up to me and said

– What have you thought of the future?
– I don’t know. I will get a job, that’s for sure. I’m trying for a Google or a Microsoft. Highly doubtful owing to my dismal GPA. Maybe a Yahoo! or an Oracle.
– You started with ‘I don’t know’ and that makes me nervous.

I smiled. I,

– Sir. You see these people around you? The best of the best minds of the country. Barring a few exceptions, none of them had any idea what they were going to learn when they got an admission into this institute. Based on a day’s examination and years of societal expectations, they decided to go for Chemical Engineering, Textile Technology or Computer Science. If you ask a current aspirant what department would he like to go to, he would say Computer Science because apparently that’s where the money is, that’s where the top rankers go. Sir, this journey starts with a ‘I don’t know’, verbally or otherwise, and ends with the same.

– You are a bright student, and you should know that. Don’t define yourself by a number, and never ever let anyone judge you based on that. Most of the students who come here are idiots. Sure they’re all intelligent, and pretty good ones, I must say, but idiots. They have no, pardon my words, fucking idea about what they want in life. I don’t want you to act in the same way, as all of them would and therefore I would give you one advice – Get drunk and think of the work that you would like to do, and do that for the rest of your life. That’s what your life’s aim should because that’s what your brain retains when you have lost many of your other senses and sensibilities.

Next day, in our wing party, I got drunk like I had never gotten drunk before. When finally at 3:00 in the morning I went to my room, I felt like writing. And that was when I knew, writing was what I would do for a living. Next day, after bunking almost all the lectures, I went to the Training and Placement office and withdrew from the placement process.

I heard that when he had come to know about it, he had laughed. He got a job in one of the HFT firms and was awarded with Dean’s Gold Medal for being the department topper.

—

One year later, I released my first book – a fictional travelogue of a woman – titled Weight of the Shadow. It won the The Hindu and Crossword prizes of the year and was nominated for the DSC Prize for South Asian Literature. Four months later, he released his first book – a non-fiction account of rising consumerism and its effect on environment. The book got rave reviews and was touted as a nominee for the year’s Pulitzer Prize. Of course, it did not get nominated. But the two of us were the prodigal kids on the block.

Three books later, I got married. He was already married to his girlfriend from the campus. The relationship had survived.

—

I still remember the day when I announced my Youth Trilogy. In the press event in New Delhi, I saw him outside the door, watching me from the lobby. He stood there for a while, showed a Thumb’s-up and went away. Two days later, he announced his foray into Fiction. When I read this in the newspaper, I instantly recalled the calm demeanour on his face. It reminded me of the absence of enmity and presence of rivalry between us.

—

Being shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize was not the only reason I was extremely happy. More than that, it was the fact that he had also been shortlisted for his debut fiction. Mine was the first book of the trilogy – a bildungsroman of a student from his childhood to the day he becomes a father – and his was a typical rags-to-riches story of a Dalit man from a village in Bihar.

During the media coverage and estimations going around, the possibility of him winning was much higher than anybody else. The betting markets were high on hopes for him. Two days before the award ceremony, I opened my door to find him with a bouquet.

I welcomed him inside and after the first few minutes of mutual introductions of me, him and my wife, he told me

– I will have to leave in a while. I just came to congratulate you for the shortlist.
– Oh! There was no need. Congratulations to you too!
– Congratulate me when I win.
– Whoa! Dude, over confidence is not a virtue.

My wife was in the kitchen getting cups of coffee for us.

– Remember what I had told you in college? That rivalry is constructive. See where it has brought us to. And don’t get disheartened when you lose, for ‘it is only through losses that you swim towards the wins’.
– Good that you have read my book.
– Yes. And it was, honestly, awful. I do not know what was in it that the judges liked – may be the anti-communism commentary or glorification of romance of writing. But, you have no chance of winning this. You’ve got a good wife. I would suggest you to go on a vacation with her to Ibiza after the event. I will sponsor it from the prize money.

He was still an asshole. He,

– I have heard people do crazy sex things when in Ibiza. Maybe you could show her some anti-communist moves there.

I had no idea what and why was he talking. In a moment’s angst, I

– Well I would have learnt a couple of crazy moves from Neha.

And he punched me on my face and left for the door. I shouted,

– Tell her, I miss those fest meetings. Won’t you? Please? Will you also tell her that I had won against you years ago?

By the time, my wife came out of the kitchen, he was gone.

—

I won. And today when I stand here, smiling for the media, with the glass award in my right hand and my book in the left, my eyes are still searching him in the crowd, but to no avail. To me he would always be the only person I envied the most, for his talent, for his outlook, for his life. I see my wife in a red gown smiling at me. I also spot Neha, with anger in her eyes. I know she will never forgive me for what happened. But that is what winning is. More than you make friends, more than people you love, you make enemies, lose friends. I can never come to terms with her, and to him I will always be a loser – the loser who won but lost. And do I regret it? Hell no!

I take out my cellphone and write him a message – ‘Tat-taa! Taka Thun!’