AWESOME THREESOME

“It’s fantastic to visualize the amount of ignorance in education in the form of inert facts.”
- Henry B. Adams


There is something every artist should avoid, the ‘isms’.

College is a place for the ‘isms’. Be it idealism, plagiarism, sexism or activism (not too sure about the last ‘ism’). When we played ‘Superlatives’, three people emerged victorious in the ‘ism’ chalk-talk.

Subhojit Sanyal, Baharul Islam and Abhishek Mukherjee.


The three names listed above are not in order, neither in chaos.

The cure for boredom is curiosity; there is no cure for curiosity. Rightly stated because in this case, nobody is curious about the three and I suppose everyone accepts the boredom here. While the three are in contention with themselves to educate themselves further, it only helps to mention what Einstein once said-

“It’s a miracle that curiosity survives formal education.”


College is divided into three years, in some cases four. Anyway, this is just a rough memory jump through the three years at Ramjas English. Some famous words quoted by the three upon several random, useless situations.


FIRST YEAR-

Subhojit:
- Xaviers, Calcutta and Presidency, Calcutta have no match in India.
- Hey man.
- Oh, I went back to Calcutta.
- I just returned yesterday that’s why I couldn’t come day before yesterday.

Baharul:
- Hee hee hee.
- You also like Salman Khan?
- I will always have cent percent attendance.
- What! You had sex before marriage!!
- Who said that women liked flowers?
- Hee hee hee.

Abhishek:
- I worship Michael Jackson.
- I will take every professor’s ass.
- Bombay is expensive and I am stingy.
- I really worship Michael Jackson.


SECOND YEAR-

Subhojit:
- Delhi University is not bad.
- Hey woman.
- Oh, I went back to Gurgaon.
- My attendance sucks.

Baharul:
- I talk to all the ladies.
- I am very intelligent, like Ruskin Bond.
- Come on, Salman is a nice man. Just misunderstood.
- Don’t be ridiculous. Only I am ridhiculous. Only I, only I.

Abhishek:
- MJ is innocent.
- I think I should start smoking.
- Everyone is a jackass, I am the best.
- I carry arrogance on my narrow shoulders.


THIRD YEAR-

Subhojit:
- Ramjas English is the best.
- Hey Hitesh.
- Oh, I went back to DSE.
- Attendance sucks but it’s epistemologically transcendental like Sartre.
- To the uneducated, A is just three sticks.
- Hey, I am turning intellectual.

Baharul:
- I sing in front of all and I laugh at myself.
- This is getting ridhiculous.
- Salman is actually a nice person. Please try to understand.
- My goal in life? Like a career or something.
- Hey, I am also turning intellectual.

Abhishek:
- MJ for president. Our children deserve a bright future.
- Men are born ignorant, not stupid. Education makes them stupid.
- I can theoretically rape anyone.
- Hey, I am already an intellectual.


By the way, the three had a troubled love life full of indecisions, many a wrong judgement, ego, confusion between the platonic and the normal tonic, misunderstandings, malnutrition, dependence issue, loyalty circumstances, random insensitive comments, heavy confusion, morality, etc. But there was something the three shared. Something that exists and no, I am not talking about ‘Itching private balls in public’.

The three shared the magic of telepathy. In their case, it’s very sweetly and sourly called ‘Bong Tolopothy’. You could never tell when one was on the overdrive. Anyway, the best thing about the three of them in the three years of college life was that they were each other’s silent touchstone. Not many people know this, even I don’t. I’m only bull-shitting.

So, there you go. In the words of a Cranberries number, you are “Free to Decide”.

UNCHAINED MELODY

Vincent- Love, they say, is blind.
Terence- Get your eyes operated then.
Vincent- She’s got me thinking about her completely.
Terence- Okay, who do you mean?
Vincent- She means the most, I have never been mean to her.
Terence- But she’s totally committed.
Vincent- Did I ever mention that I want her?
Terence- (Thinking)
Vincent- No.
Terence- So?
Vincent- My best memories are around her. Like an idea, an abstract.
Terence- She doesn’t know how you feel.
Vincent- Yeah, I wonder if she’d ever figure out.
Terence- I guess she’ll carry on without a doubt.
Vincent- Your guess is as good as mine.

Patrick- Yo, what are you two talking about?
Vincent- Your over cooked inners.
Terence- Make that medium rare.
Patrick- It’s not some fancy hamburger.
Vincent- No bitch, it’s always white like an owl’s egg.
Patrick- Okay. So owl’s produce eggs too?
Terence- No. They borrow eggs from fellow birds and pay the rent.
Patrick- How do the owls pay back?
Vincent- Well, they have night vision.
Patrick- So?
Vincent- Does it fucking matter? Who the hell cares about owls?
Patrick- They are also living beings. We should spare a thought.
Terence- Fair enough, but spare us.
Patrick- Ya ya okay. Ever got a spare in a whole bowling game?
Vincent- We always have the perfect strike. Eat that.
Patrick- Eat what? Owl eggs?
Terence- Fuck, that reminds me.
Vincent- What? Nature’s call?
Terence- Yesterday, I was hungry and made a poach egg for myself.
Patrick- Huh.
Terence- Then I thought I’d make one more.
Vincent- Were you still greedy?
Terence- Oh yes. I decided to make one more.
Patrick- Then?
Terence- Three yolks came out of the third egg!
Vincent- Fuck, that’s uncommentable.
Terence- I felt so strange. It looked really horrid.
Patrick- I know, imagine! Three yolks from one egg. Eww.
Terence- It looked like three unborn “Chicken Littles”.
Vincent- Gross but you know, (long silence) I’d have eaten it.
Terence- Well, that’s what I did.
Patrick- That’s what I would have done too.

PULP FICTION

“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness. For, he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you."

- Ezekiel 25:17



Vincent is Vincent and Terence is Jules.
That leaves Patrick with two characters; either Marcellus or Butch. While the former was forcibly fucked, the latter killed Vincent. So let’s have Patrick to be Marcellus, minus his wife. We’ll keep the anal thrust on (just for fun). Butch will have no role here. We should also ignore the thought of the devil snatching Marcellus’s soul, which would complicate things. Thereby, the suitcase would not contain his soul but the lock combination would still be 666.

So here it goes. Baharul and Anurag decide to rob a restaurant while eating in one and among them; Anurag calls Baharul his “honey bunny”.

Baharul (to all in the restaurant) - If any of you bitches move, I’ll execute every motherfucking last one of you.


Anyway, earlier, Vincent and Terence have a discussion about ‘hash’, south of France and ‘chicken la fiesta’. That’s what we discuss in reality too.

Vincent- I’m not saying they’re the same thing, but they fall in the same ballpark.
Terence- Ain’t no fucking ballpark neither. Look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine but touching a ladies’ feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies, ain’t the same ballpark, ain’t the same league, ain’t even the same fucking sport.
Vincent- You ever given a foot massage?
Terence- What you talking about? I am the foot fucking master.
Vincent- I’ve given a hundred different women, a hundred foot massages and they all meant something.
Terence- Would you ever give a guy a foot massage?
Vincent- Fuck you.
Terence- My feet are getting a little tired. I could do with a foot massage right now.
Vincent- Fuck you.


Anyway, Vincent and Terence arrive at Ved’s crib to collect Patrick’s PSP. Ved had borrowed it without an intention to return it. Upon their arrival, Ved and his roommates offer fine burgers and sprite which Terence consumes without permission. Then they talk.

Terence- What does Patrick look like?
Ved- What!
Terence- What country you from?
Ved- What! What! (Gasps)
Terence- ‘What’ is no country I ever heard of.
Ved- What!
Terence- You speak English in ‘What’?
Ved- Wha…
Terence- English, motherfucker, do you speak it?
Ved- Ye-yes-ss.
Terence- Then you know what I’m saying.
Ved- Yes!
Terence- Describe what Patrick looks like?
Ved- What! I…
Terence- Say what again. SAY WHAT AGAIN. I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker. Say what one more goddamn time.
Ved- He’s not black.
Terence- Go on.
Ved- He’s has short hair.
Terence- Does he look like a bitch?
Ved- What!
Terence- DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH?
Ved- No!
Terence- Then why you try to fuck him like a bitch?
Ved- No.
Terence- Yes you did. Yes you did.


Vincent picks up the PSP and they take it along. They stop by at a nearby ‘diner’ for a quick meal. Vincent appreciates the 'Bad Motherfucker' wallet and goes to take a huge nasty smelly heavy turd-fest dump. That’s exactly when Anurag and Baharul decide to rob the restaurant. However, Terence and Vincent stop them. Don’t ask me how, ask Tarantino.



P.S- Sadly, this post will make no sense if you haven’t seen 'Pulp Fiction'. Watch it once, for the sheer joy of expressive cinema. Watch it twice to understand it. Then, watch it thrice to analyze the main points and finally watch it for the fourth time to enjoy it with full understanding.

Further P.S- Keep watching it.