masse, in a feeble show of spontaneity. The organizers tried furtively to slow them down, to make it look like a genuine outpouring of support. But it was too late to improve the choreography. The entire teaching staff had already lined up at the table, like customers at a ration shop. They obediently signed statements saying they were behind the Prime Minister, her declaration of Emergency, and her goal of fighting the anti-democratic forces threatening the country from within.
As much as fear, Maneck felt a loathing for the entire place. But for his teachers he had only pity. They slipped away from the flag-raising ceremony, looking guilty and ashamed.
That night, the hostel room next to his own remained silent. The familiar sounds refused to rise and signal Avinash’s well-being. Maneck lay awake, worrying into the early hours of the morning. Should he report to the warden’s office that his friend was missing? But what if he had gone to visit his family, or something innocent like that? Better to wait a day or two.
At dinnertime he looked about the dining hall for a glimpse of Avinash, in vain. He asked someone at his table, casually, “What’s the Managing Committee of the Student Union up to these days?”
“Those fellows have all split the scene, yaar. Gone underground. It’s too risky for them to hang around here.”
The reply reassured Maneck. He was convinced now that Avinash was just lying low somewhere, hiding in his parents’ flat in the mill tenements, perhaps. And he would return soon — after all, how long could this Emergency and goondaism go on? Besides, he would not be caught easily. Not the way he played chess.
The former canteen caterer was back on the job, wreaking his gastric revenge. Maneck felt vindicated as he remembered the vegetarian incident that had started it all — he had told Avinash not to interfere, that it would end badly.
Nowadays, when the meal was particularly ghastly, he got himself sandwiches or samosas at a stall in the lane outside the college. He was luckier than most because he got a bit of pocket money from home. It was comforting to watch tomatoes being sliced and bread being buttered, and to hear the roar of the stove, the hot hiss of frying in oil.
One evening, as he returned to the hostel from his roadside snack, the cry of Ragging! Ragging! Ragging! went up in the corridor, like a hunting call. He watched in the games room as two first-year automotive students were cornered, surrounded by twelve others. They stripped the pants off one, held him bent over the ping-pong table, and handed an empty soft-drink bottle to the other. He was ordered to demonstrate what had been learnt about pistons and cylinders in the class on internal combustion engines. They overcame his reluctance by threatening to make him the cylinder if he refused to cooperate.
Maneck slunk away in terror. From then on, he went straight to his room after dinner and locked himself in. He made sure that he had whatever he needed — newspaper, library books, glass of water — so he would not have to leave his sanctuary when the raggers were on the prowl.
One night, after he had changed into his pyjamas, his stomach began rumbling in a nasty way. Must be the samosa chutney at the roadside stall, he assumed. Shouldn’t have eaten it, there had been something peculiar about the taste.
He badly needed the toilet, filthy as it would be at this hour. He opened the door cautiously. The corridor was empty. He walked rapidly, looking over his shoulder. Halfway down the hall they pounced out of a storage room and caught him. He fought back. “Please! I have to go to the toilet! Very badly!”
“Later,” they said, twisting his arms behind him to make him stop struggling.
“Ahhhh!” he screamed.
“Listen, it’s just a game,” they reasoned with him. “Why turn it into a fight? You’ll simply get hurt.”
He stopped resisting, and they eased up on his arms. “Good boy. Now tell us, what subject are you taking?”
“Refrigeration and air-conditioning.”
“Okay, we’ll just give you a little test. To see if you’ve been studying like a good boy.”
“Sure. But can I go to the toilet first?”
“Later.” They led him to the workshop where there was a large working model of a freezer, and asked him to take off his clothes. He did not move. They closed in to undress him.
“Please!” he begged, kicking and pulling away. “Please don’t! No, please!” He prayed that Avinash would appear miraculously and save him, as he had saved the kitchen workers from the vegetarians.
The raggers were very efficient, taking less than a minute to hold Maneck down and strip him. “Now listen carefully,” they said. “The first part of the test is simple. We are refrigerating you for ten minutes. Don’t panic.” They tumbled him into the freezer, doubled over to fit the confined space, and heaved the door shut. The darkness of a coffin closed in around him.
They waited to be amused by his reaction. For a while there was nothing. Then a banging commenced, and continued for the next two minutes, followed by a brief silence. His hammering started again — weaker now, and sporadic, faltering, picking up, fading.
The blows became alarmingly feeble before dying out altogether. They looked at their watches; only seven minutes of the promised ten had elapsed. They decided to open the door.
“Aagh! Chhee!” They fell back as the stench hit them. “Bastard shat in the freezer!”
Maneck was stiff and could not emerge. They pulled him out moulded in a stoop and slammed the door to seal away the smell. He looked around dazed, unable to straighten.
They offered mock applause. “Very good. Full marks for the first test. Bonus marks for the shit. Well done. Now comes the second part.”
His blue lips trembled as he tried to speak. His hands reached stiffly for the pyjamas. Someone snatched them away. “Not yet. For the second part, you must demonstrate that your thermostat is working.”
Numb, he gaped uncomprehendingly.
“You said you’re taking refrigeration and air-conditioning. What’s the matter, don’t you know what a thermostat is?”
Maneck shook his head and made another pathetic slow-motion grab for his pyjamas.
Maneck looked down at himself as if he were seeing it for the first time, and they clapped again. “Very good! Thermostat correctly identified! But is it working?”
He nodded.
“Prove it.” He was not sure what they wanted. “Come on, make it work. Shake it up.” They took up the chant. “Shake-it-up! Shake-it-up! Shake-it-up!”
Maneck understood, and discovered his lips had thawed enough to speak. “Please, I cannot. Please, let me go now?”
“The second part of the test must be completed. Or we’ll have to repeat the first part, freeze you with your shit this time. Thermostat checkup is compulsory.”
Maneck held his penis weakly, moved his hand to and fro a few times and let go.
“It’s not working! Try harder! Shake-it-up! Shake-it-up!”
He started to sniffle, working his foreskin back and forth while they chanted. Desperate to end the humiliation, he laboured hard, his wrist aching, feeling nothing in the penis, worried that something was wrong, that the freezer had damaged it. After much effort he ejaculated without a proper erection.
They broke into cheers, whistling and hooting. Someone returned his pyjamas, and they dispersed. To avoid walking back with them, he stayed in the workshop until it was quiet outside the building.
He washed his thighs and legs where he had soiled himself, then returned to his room. He got into bed and lay on his back in the dark, shivering, staring at the ceiling. He wondered what would happen the next time the instructor opened the freezer.
An hour later the trembling was still in his limbs, and he fetched the blanket from the cupboard. He knew what he was going to do — as soon as he felt warmer, he would get up and pack. In the morning he would take a taxi to the railway station and go home on the
What would his parents say, though? He could guess Daddy’s reaction — that he had run away like a coward. And Mummy would first take his side, then she would listen to Daddy and change, as always. Change, always. That’s what the proofreader had said on the train — cannot avoid change, have to adapt to it. But surely that did
