Preparing for PCOM

It’s a public holiday (and a dry day too). I am at a public library trying to study for my exam the next day. The subject is PCOM and I have just managed to get some notes from a nerd in my class. I have just reached the library after photocopying the notes and I am scanning them. I am clueless about the subject but I am determined. Thankfully I don’t have a cell phone, so my only distraction at the moment is the pack of cigarettes in my jeans pocket, which compels me to take a break after every sixty minutes. First sixty minutes go by and I am sweating. The subject is tougher than it looks. I go down for a smoke and buy a Jigar’s (compilation of the last five years PCOM question papers).

I am back in the library now and am making a list of the chapters to skip. Precisely at this moment, two guys walk in. Unlike other people coming to the library these guys aren’t carrying any books. They look left and right after entering the library hall and slowly make their way to my table. They come to a stop right in front of me. I look up and see two grinning faces. Before I can speak anything or protest, one of them starts gathering my notes and shoving into my bag. The other puts his hand around my shoulder and leads me outside.

I am pushed in the back seat of a santro despite my protests. I am smuggled into a building which stands next to the building where I stay. I am pushed inside a flat on the third floor. Heavy music is started on a Sony CD player and I can see an unopened Teacher’s Scotch bottle on the table. There are three empty glasses and a couple of cigarette packets on the floor. The bottle is opened and three pegs of equal quantity to the drop are poured in the glasses. I am still protesting, but no ones paying any attention to my ranting. After a loud cheer, the glasses are raised in the air. A tinkling sound and zap…the scotch is gone. The warmth spreads slowly from my throat to my stomach. I light a cigarette, stop protesting and pour the second round.

Two hours later, the bottle is empty and we are high. We are swaying to Coal Chamber and there is thick smoke in the room now. The exam is forgotten, and the concern now is how to procure more scotch. Strangely one of the guys is still in a condition to drive. He always is. It surprises me. You give him ten pegs, he will still drive as well as he drives when he is not drunk. So, this guy drives and we search for scotch. After a couple of minutes, a couple of miles and a lot of swearing later, we finally get what we want. We are back to the flat and the second bottle is opened. I don’t remember when I pass out.

When I get up, it’s dark outside. I check my watch and it shows the time as 7:30. I have a terrible headache. I go to the wash room and pour some cold water on my face. The water stings my face and it feels good. I wipe my face and light a cigarette. There is a bag lying on the sofa. It looks like my bag. I open it and some papers fall out. I turn on the lights of the room and suddenly it hits me. I have an exam tomorrow. I am screwed. I hurriedly make my way to my home. My mom thinks that I am back from the library and makes me tea. The TV is on and my brother is scanning through the channels. He stops at a particular channel. The screen shows a Bagpiper whisky bottle. I feel the bile rise to my throat and I turn my face away in disgust.

The tea works wonders and I finally start studying. One chapter is done by 9 and there are seven more to go. At this moment, the lights go out. I swear out aloud. Even the Gods are against me. I wait for an hour but the power is still out. You can’t fight fate. I remember a childhood story in which a boy had kept a book under his pillow before an exam and the next day he knew everything from the book. Instinctively I bury the notes under my pillow and go to sleep.

Next morning when I wake up, the power is still not back. Within a few seconds I realize that the childhood story trick hasn’t worked. I have in fact forgotten the only chapter that I had studied. The exam is at two in the afternoon. I shower, have breakfast and start studying. By lunch time, I am done with three chapters. I know I am going to fail, but somehow I don’t want to fail miserably. A twenty would be better than zero. I go and write the exam. I am out in half the allotted time. I calculate and find out that I have written 42 marks worth answers. I light a cigarette and decide to accept my fate. I am going to fail, because of my own dumbness and because of my free spirited friends.

Three months later, the results are out. The results are pasted on a wall. I am not concerned about my result. I am only worried about my score in PCOM. As I make my way to towards the wall, I am humming “Another brick in the wall”. I search for my roll number. I find it and check that PCOM is the third in the list of subjects. I start going through the row. My name….46 in the first subject…….51 in the second….42 in the third. I smile. Childhood stories do come true sometimes.


P.S: I want to thank my two friends, without whom this story would not have been a part of my life.