The Placement Prank

It was placement time at the BVIMK. All the self appointed captains of the team were trying to get companies to recruit at the College but with absolutely no success. I was supposed to be the head of placements myself but had long given up hope of anything positive. The preparedness of the school was total and the desperation was visible.
Once again it was the 1st of April and the devil in me was egging me on for one final prank before I leave BVIMK and Kolhapur. Immense success from last year was also telling me I could pull off a real huge one.

So the plan was to call up our course coordinator Prof. N J Chavan on the official BVIMK phone and tell him that the Notre Group had met with me - Llewellyn Desouza - the College’s placement head and would like to recruit from the B-school. The story would gain more credibility when Prof. Chavan would connect with me to find out more about the Group showing keen interest in recruiting. Next the Placement committee would put the brigade to work and ensure that the people in charge of hospitality get ready for a welcome and the guys interested in jobs from Notre Group would get ready in formal clothing.

The planning and execution of this entire practical joke was being done by Rathore and yours truly as usual.

As planned, Rathore called up Prof. Chavan at 5pm on the official number of the BVIMK. By now I had acquired quite a reputation of being a master prankster. So to ensure that no one suspects me I was right there standing in front of Prof. Chavan talking to him about my project work when this call came. God alone knows what Rathore said to Prof. Chavan but he came back to me in 15 minutes in a real upbeat mood. He patted me on the back and asked me about the Notre Group. Like a real pro I acted as if I did not remember about this company and told him it was difficult to say as I had been to so many companies with the college brochure.

Prof. Chavan then called Amir a classmate of mine in charge of hospitality for placement companies and told him about the Notre Group wanting to recruit at the BVIMK. Amir was super exited as this was the first company wanting to come to recruit. Amir further put his network to work and thus the juniors got involved.
When Anup Tiwari of my class heard about this he was almost sceptical. Anup had closely worked with me on placements and knew that this was near impossible. Speaking his mind out to Prof. Chavan, Anup told him to beware of the fact that the day marked for the visit of the Notre Group was April First. Anup the sharp classmate of mine had smelt a rat and had almost blown the lid on our prank. Anup had a big enough following and this would mean that by just speaking to people in his hostel he would sow the seeds of cynicism in their minds.

By late evening both Rathore and I after making almost flying visits to the various hostels realised that people were believing what Anup and his group was telling them. We understood that the credibility of the system was at stake and we needed to do something that would make people believe in the ‘official’ version.

We thought that if when we were in class with Prof. Chavan and he gets summoned form the college office for a phone call from the Notre Group on the official number, people would believe his word and thus the prank would work. Also if we were in class with him at that time no one would suspect us. But how would we call him when both of us were in class?

Besides the MBA Students at my hostel, we had a few rich MCA juniors. Shenu was from Kerala and he had the most advanced possession of the time – a mobile phone. When I first had used it I had no idea how it worked but knew that this hand held wireless devise would help us solve the credibility issue. I took Shenu Mobile and his roommate Sajan Pager (that’s how the whole of Siddique hostel remembered them) into confidence. Trust me it was no mean feat as they both hardly spoke or understood any kind of language I spoke or understood. After the negotiations I felt I should have been a hostage negotiator for the Government. Anyway Shenu readily agreed the moment he understood that I was playing a prank on Prof. Chavan. Shenu just hated Prof. Chavan.

In the class the next day Prof. Chavan made our life easy by organising a debate. I ensured that the debate was very lively and intimidated Anup into a fierce argument with Ashish Kapoor. While the entire class was showing off using jargon I was gesturing to Rathore very desperately to make the bloody call. Rathore had developed cold feet and I was very angry, irritated and frustrated. I somehow slipped to the back of the class took the mobile from Rathore and decided to make the call myself.

Now the mobile also needed to be hidden as it was not a very common device. It was bound to draw a lot of attention if noticed. Putting my entire ventriloquism to use, I made the call looking straight in the direction of Prof. Chavan. I spoke to a clerk and asked him to call Prof. Chavan. The idiot started to argue with me saying Prof. Chavan was in class. Left with no other option I had to put the call down.

Not to let anyone feel I was missing from the action, I almost immediately after cutting the call jumped into the debate. As most were speaking nonsense it did not look as if I was putting up an act to participate. All were talking and no one was listening. Rathore was however keen to know what had happened and opened my notebook and stared asking written questions. I was so bloody irritated with him I would have almost slapped him.

I realise after a few minutes that I could call again and try using the key word ‘urgent.’
Mustering up courage after you have failed at such a mission critical but non consequential exercise is very difficult. But I was committed. I called again and this time a peon answered. In a very stern tone I told him I wanted to speak to Prof. Chavan about placement and urgently. It did the tick. He ran and came to class with a message for Prof Chavan. No sooner had he come to the class the bell announcing the end of one class of Prof. Chavan when off.

Prof. Chavan had two classes back to back that day with us. Prof. Chavan asked us to take a break. I hid the phone in the draw of my bench as my entire class walked out for the break. By the time Prof. Chavan reached the college office phone I was in a position to talk freely. I told him that we from the Notre Group will be coming to recruit with our director today at 3.30. I also told him that our director would first like to meet the Profs of the school and then do a small presentation on the Group to the students and then take CVs of interested candidates for short listing.

The tricked worked and Prof. Chavan came back to class with renewed vigour. By the time he was back in class a lot of the students were back from the break and thus he shared with them the breaking story. Anup was still not convinced and asked Prof. Chavan about the whole thing one more time to ascertain facts. By lunch time the hospitality team had got to work on full swing ordering Samosas and chips. Another set of juniors was working on getting the brand new, but unused two year old Transparency Overhead Projector working. Some of the guys from my class walked over to their hostels and came back after lunch dressed in a necktie.

At 3.30 our Director Jacob and Prof. N J Chavan were given bouquets to receive the guests but no one had arrived. By Four, patience was running out and by 4.30 Anup was out telling Prof. Chavan that he always felt this was a prank. Both Rathore and I showed as if we were still hopeful until Six. Finally when everyone went home after eating the Samosas, we had the last laugh.Even today all feel it was a prank but very few know that it was us.

The Prefect Mistake (How I took up an MBA.)

The year was 1997. I was working for IMRB for some time now and making reasonably good money. My assignment can today be classified as a KPO/ BPO job but this was a time when no one had any idea what out sourcing was.
Although I worked in the Esplanade Mansion office of the IMRB in Bombay, my work was assigned from an office in Hong Kong. The job was all about analysing market research data that would come via email from Hong Kong. The problem was that the emails were generation next technology at that time and we had to go to our Nirmal Towers office to even check these incoming packets. Yes, believe it or not we did call these attachments to emails as packets. Once we got the email and the relevant attachment, we downloaded them on to the most unreliable storage devises of the time called floppy disks and transport the data to our desktops. This ensured a few trips between the offices a day and if lucky the data to be analysed would be on our desktops only by 6 in the evening. As the processing started after that, I had to stay back nights in office. With firm regularity, I travelled home only in the wee hours of the morning and thus returning back to work by 9 am to sign a muster was almost impossible.
Moreover the work I did was complex, used yet to be relied upon technology, subject to rejection, time consuming, tedious and most importantly not understood by anyone in my reference group. For example, the timekeeper (yes we had one) at the IMRB, employed by the HR of the company never understood that it was impossible for me to come at 9 am to sign a muster when I had just left office at 5 am. The timekeeper would insist on a ‘red mark’ on the register and three such marks would mean a causal leave (CL). Exceeding the number of permitted CLs per week which was 3 invited a Memo. Not replying to the Memo would mean a remark in the service book and no pay until justification. It was only during the clarification interview that the HR head would realise what was going on and for some strange reason even though the pay would be released no corrective procedural action for the red marks or the Memo would be initiated from his end.
More than me it was my parents who were impacted. My parents in their line of work took their service book and muster remarks very seriously. A Memo for them would mean some grave crime committed against organization like neglect of duty or embezzlement of funds. Also my family was a close knit one. Each one of us would usually comeback from outside and sit together and discuss what happened. This ritual though time consuming and almost an invasion of privacy was the binding force in the family. Eating out every day with hardly any physical exercise had now made me 145 kgs. I was finding it very difficult to move the ton around. With my erratic timings and my weight problem I was drifting apart from the family.
I think this is what they call pressure and thus the cookie crumbled. Suddenly one day Mum got palpitations. Not that this was a new sickness as this kind of a problem with mum’s Blood Pressure had happened in the past when I was in college but the difference here was I was not free and available to do the legwork. So dad was stressed out a lot. Almost a month after mum recovered, Dad got a heart attack. My dad who is, was and will always remain the back bone of my existence was never so sick. I had no idea what was happening to me and my life. It as if the rest of life took a back seat. I had to become the man of the house. I had to look in to my mother’s eyes and tell her “My father is not dead, he is just sick.” Not knowing want else to say, we had to simply resort to stopping each other from crying.
This episode jolted us out of our comfort zone.
My mum and I would take turns at the hospital vigil. At the hospital one day I met a college friend of mine. He was there because his father too was admitted to the ICU. In the waiting room outside the ICU, I saw him struggling with some math like problems. I took keen interest in what he was doing and after some time indulged myself in solving the puzzles. Soon he told me that the puzzles I was solving with extraordinary easy were not puzzles as such but aptitude testing material that frequently appears in MBA entrance exams. Later in the day that friend of mine told my mum that I was too good at the MBA entrance stuff and should try my luck at the Common Entrance Test. Convinced that I had no future with the job I was doing both my mum and my dad even in that condition forced me to think of an MBA.
An MBA is a big decision in a students’ life. However like many decisions of my life, I took to an MBA ‘Just like that.’
The World around people take up an MBA after a few years of work. The logic is to use the MBA College like a dictionary and refer to it with problems you encountered at work. Using your MBA years to find solutions for the problems you encountered while working makes your MBA sojourn more meaningful.
However in India we do it differently. We first try and finish all our education at one shot. So we go through our bachelors’ degree and then straight into an MBA. At the MBA we equip ourselves with solutions for the business world, which we have no idea how or were to apply. Then we go out into the big bad corporate world ‘looking for problems’ which would help us apply our knowledge. Now I always thought leading a life looking for problems is not such a great idea.
Once dad was back from the hospital I went back to work and got myself re engrossed in the routine forgetting the MBA preparations. My routine was tough and my schedules were punishing so there was no time to think of anything else.
I still remember the day before my entrance test; I was working till 2.30 in the night. I don’t know how I managed to get up the next morning and go to the examination centre. At the centre I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of people that had come to give the test plus the fact that each one of them was preparing for the test vigorously till the last minute. After the test too I met a few acquaintances furiously debating some college ranking. All this puzzled me as I had not taken my MBA decision seriously.
Once I went back to work I made inquiries about an MBA course and its prospects. Even though I was an educated son of educated parents, I had no idea about how admissions to an MBA work.
The scene was very complex. There were some 2 to 3 hundred MBA colleges in Maharashtra affiliated to the various universities. The admissions to their MBA programme were centralised. Which means a common entrance test was taken and then a group discussion was held and then we were subjected to a personal interview. At the end of this we got a score and a rank. With this rank we were suppose to appear for a counselling session. At the counselling we get to chose from the available colleges from all over Maharashtra. Though the system looks simple, what makes is complex is the stature and reputation of each MBA college and the placement record of the institution.
One day I got my results and I realize I had not done that badly after all. With the kind of score I could comfortably get an admission in a good college in Bombay. However things were made difficult by the fact that most of the seats left in Bombay were ‘paid seats.’ So not knowing the consequences of a bad college, I decided to take the economic option and go out of Bombay to do an MBA….
Moreover what I thought were good colleges were not necessarily the top colleges in Bombay according to the others who were appearing for the counselling. Some of the people who appeared for the counselling ahead of me had taken up colleges in Pune and one had even gone to Nasik. There was hardly any time to think when my turn came. So I asked the polite looking gentleman on the other side of the ‘Counsellor’ sign where would I get a free seat. To my surprise he said Kolhapur. I had once been to Kolhapur so I kind of liked the option. I asked him to tell me which was the number one college in Kolhapur. What I meant was a qualitative numbering implying the best college but he was a simple man and went by the first college on his list as far as Kolhapur is concerned. Bharthi Vidyapeeth Institute of Management was the number one college on extra large register and I don’t think was the best college on any list but not knowing what to do I signed on the dotted line, submitted my certificates (as I had not got the necessary drafts) and took a plunge into the unknown.

Cindy Furtado @ KadamWadi Dafan Bhoomi

The official address of BVIMK or My MBA College includes the words Dafan Bhoomi. We actually had a Christian graveyard next to the college. I had to often walk through the grave yard past midnight when everyone was afraid to go there just to take a shortcut back home from my long walks to the STD (telephone) booth. In those days this was a common practice among hostilities with shallow pockets. These late night trips to the STD shop were done with a view to avail the quarter plus rate applicable on phone calls made after eleven thirty in the night. Many times in the day too during breaks between classes I often would wonder into the graveyard to read interesting inscription on the graves. This meant I was well versed with some of the names of people buried there. Cindy Furtado who according to an inscription on her grave died in 1987 was one such name that intrigued me. I liked Cindy Crawford the model and maybe that’s why the name stuck on.

Chintan was my roommate for the 2 years I was in Kolhapur. We lived in Sidiqe hostel which was very close to My MBA College. Chintan was a compulsive grade ‘B’ wannabe skirt chaser. He was hardly successful. He usually ended up putting us fellow hostilities in a lot of trouble with his misadventures. One night a huge gang of sword brandishing goons was banging at the door of our room. The moment Chintan heard the loud thuds he was scared. On the other hand I was a little angry as I had no idea why they were banging our door. So with a serious grim face I opened the door and started giving the guys dirty looks. Although they had swords, they did not look hostile or maybe it was my size that made the difference. They were not expecting such a huge guy at the door. So one of them who was behind asked in a gruff but meek voice “Where is Chintan?” I turned around to point towards Chintan who by now was almost smiling and pointing towards me. I immediately realised that the goons did not know who Chintan was but had been hired by someone to beat or threaten Chintan. Fortunately the guy who ran our hostel had stepped in by then and we were saved a scuffle.

We later realised that Chintan had tried to make friends with a girl form the new MCA batch. The girl’s brother did not like this and had brought over his friends to give Chintan a stern warning. This is something we had got used to but what surprised me was the fact that to escape Chintan had pointed towards me. I wanted to teach him a lesson.

The new MBA class had just joined in and among our juniors was a Goan girl called Seema Rodrigues. She was the best looking junior that had arrived and as I was a Goan, she befriended me for help in finding her a hostel. She was cute and we hit it off as friends almost instantly. To save herself from being ragged she would invariable be with me. So we became very friendly. Chintan being what he was (and most probable still is) came up with an indecent proposal as usual. He wanted me to introduce him to Seema. At first I did not want to introduce him but later that night when I saw the Grave of Cindy Furtado I thought of a plan to take revenge.

Years ago I had seen an episode of a Doordarshan serial called ‘Honi UnHoni.’ I remembered the plot where in a guy goes for a date with a girl only to realise she was already dead years ago. The next day I took Seema to Cindy Furtado’s grave and explained to her my plan. I told her I would introduce her as Cindy Furtado to Chintan and later we would show this grave to Chintan and scare the shit out of him. Seema was apprehensive at first but later agreed knowing how much fun this would be. To play her part Seema would have to be like one of those easy to date girls and in fact go for a date with Chintan. I also promised her full protection from Chintan in case things go out of hand. Moreover I knew Chintan well and could guarantee that he did not have the guts even to touch a girl.

As planned I introduced Seema to Chintan and left them alone. As expected Chintan walked her around the college showing off and later asked her out. Seema agreed and our plan was on its way. That day when Chintan came back to the rooms all of us in the hostel pounced on him for details. He was so eager to share them that we did not have to try hard. It looked as if this was the first girl who had ever given him so much time and attention. Seema had also played her part of an easy to get date girl real well. Chintan was exited, and anxious. He was dressing up for the date at 5 itself when the time decided was 7. I advised him to put on a jacket for the evening and told him how he could share it with Seema if in the evening it started to rain or become cold. He liked the idea so much that he borrowed my steam iron to iron his leather jacket.

I did not want to miss Seema’s side of the story so I rushed to her hostel before Chintan. Seema was afraid of things going wrong and I had to first put her at easy making her laugh. I just had to tell her how exited Chintan was. After laughing our guts out I explained to her the plan for the evening. To play her part she would have to wear a sleeveless top and act as if she was conscious about the mistake she had made while choosing her top. If Chintan does not naturally oblige she would then ask for his jacket and enjoy the rest of the date in the jacket. In the end she should tell Chintan that she will meet him the next day in college and if he is so dumb to ask for his jacket back she should tell him she will return it on the next day as the hostel warden would suspect if she went back in the sleeveless top.

That evening I along with Syric followed Chintan and Seema. Chintan had a Bajaj FE Scooter and I had a Kinetic Honda. We ensured that we maintained a good distance from them so that we would not be noticed. Seema played her role real well. She stripped Chintan of his jacket within the first 15 mins of the date. The date ended in around 90 mins and Seema was back safely in her hostel by 9. I then went back to my hostel and waited for Chintan.

Chintan when he came back was so elated that he didn’t suspect us at all. We too pushed him for graphic details and like boys are he faked all the details. I used a dicta phone to record what he said as I knew this would be cannon fodder that could be used to ensure Seema gets angry enough.

I then went to Seema’s hostel mess on the pretext of dinning there. Boys were not allowed in that hostel but her warden – Lilly was a Catholic and a friend of Syric. I too had met Lilly a few times at the very few Sunday services I had attended. At the hostel, I played out the tape in my Dictaphone. Seema was furious on listening to the exploits and wanted revenge. I played out the tape again after explain what had happened to Lilly too. She too felt sorry for Seema and pledged her support to any plan that would bring revenge.

Now the plan was very simple: Seema would now bunk college for the next two days. Seema had done enough to ensure that Chintan would want to meet her again and if he does not meet her for a few days his anxiety would increase. We boys on our part too would have to ensure we keep asking Chintan about his date and when it would happen again. If for nothing Chintan would want his jacket back. 48 hours would be thus enough for us to drive Chintan believing unreasonable things.

That night when I went back at almost 12, Chintan was still bragging about his exploits to some fellow hostilities. The next day too in the morning his session started at 8. When we all reached college at 9, Chintan’s eyes were looking out for Seema. In the first recess Chintan almost jumped from the bench to go out and look out for Seema. By lunch time he was desperate. I casually told him to stand near the ladies loo as most girls in the college would visit the loo at least a few times a day. Poor Chintan bunked the rest of the day and stood close to the ladies loo hoping to get a glimpse of Seema whom he knew as Cyndi. At the end of the day he went around asking some of the juniors about Cyndi. They obviously did not have any idea who he was talking about.

That evening Chintan was in a real bad state. We at the hostel left no stone unturned to provoke him and I on my part constantly reminded him of the jacket. Frustrated and not knowing what to do, he came to me for help. Well he had approached others too and they had advised him to go to her hostel. Going to a girls’ hostel at such an unearthly hour and knowing his reputation was a daredevil act. Even if he smuggled himself in, once caught, none of the girls in the hostel would vouch for him. He could be handed over to the police. So when he came to me for help I advised him to wait for one day.

The next day too our Seema and his Cyndi did not come. Chintan bunked all his classes and loitered around the ladies loo the whole day. As soon as the classes were over he came over to me and requested me to help him with the entry in to the girls’ hostel. He knew I knew many girls there and they would help me. I asked him to go back to the room and wait patiently. I promised him I would help around 5 in the evening.

I then went straight to updated Seema and Lilly. After graphically describing Chintan’s anxiety and his picketing outside the ladies loo, I quickly got to business. I explained to Lilly the rest of the plan. Lilly would now meet Chintan when I bring him to the girls’ hostel. I instructed Lilly to start to put on an act of fear as soon as Chintan asks about Cindy Furtado. All Lilly had to fake was fear and tell him that Cindy Furtado was a hostel inmate long years ago but had died doing her course in dentistry. Lilly would also have to inform him that she is in fact buried right next to the college. I made her practice her part a few times and then took Chintan’s jacket from Seema and left.

On my way back from the girls’ hostel I went to the real Cindy Furtado’s grave and put Chintan’s jacket over one side of the cross. I then went back to my room and met an over exited Chintan. I left Syric there and he knew what he had to do.

At the hostel Lilly did a little bit of overacting but Chintan was awe struck and never realised the few giggles that uncontrollably erupted from Lilly. I knew Lilly could not put on the act for long so I quickly acted dumb and told Chintan if he knew of a grave yard near the college. He was a little surprised that I was acting this dumb and decided to show me the grave yard on our way back.

So on our way back when Chintan pointed out to the entrance of the grave yard, I suggested we go and check out the graves to see if we could find Cindy Furtado’s grave. At first he did not agree but when I assured him safety as it was not even 6, he agreed. I behaved I did not know the grave and wondered around in a direction opposite to Cindy Furtado’s grave. Chintan the sissy followed me and I realised that until I discover the grave there was no hope. I was afraid that my discovering the grave would look too obvious so I tried to lose Chintan behind me but it did not work. Finally I had to reach Cindy Furtado’s grave. I honestly cannot describe Chintan’s expression when he saw his jacket. On the one hand I thought he was happy to find it back but on the other he was frozen with fear. I took the jacket in my hand and asked Chintan a very dumb question. He was so scared by now that he wanted to run. As we turned around, my friend Syric had played his part to perfection. He had brought Seema right to the gate of the grave yard. She was standing there looking at us and laughing. Chintan almost collapsed. In a few seconds the rest of my class and the juniors descended in to the grave yard laughing out really loudly. Syric had used our information dissemination systems to perfection and ensued that all except Chintan knew about the practical joke being played on him while I was with Chintan at the girls’ hostel.

I put my arms around Chintan’s shoulders and started to laugh myself. Chintan had no clue until Seema walked towards him playing the Dictaphone in her hand. She gave the Dictaphone in Chintan’s hand and he with trembling hands took it close to his ears to listen from it. Seema in the mean while took position and gave one tight slap to Chintan as if to snap him out of the trans. Chintan soon realised the joke was on him.

For a few days Chintan was normal but then went back to his old ways again.

April Fool!

It was the 1st of April. We as students of an MBA seldom had classes for more than 2 hours a day so after that we got down to some serious work like meeting up at hostels and doing nothing at all. Since today was all fools day... people were out to outwit each other. Fooling the daylights of the system and people running it we reached the place of Syric and Rathore. They stayed in the first floor portion of a bungalow in the Ruiker colony. Pranav, another friend of mine was with me. The motive was to help Rathore & Syric finish the lunch that would arrive for them from the mess in a Tiffin Dabba by doing a 2 by 4 and thus saving some money.

Together the four of us thought no end of ourselves. We would always boast about the fact that individually we may not have it all that a girl desires but together we had everything like... Colour (Rathore was very fair), Figure (Syric was a pocket size mussel man), Brains (Pranav was an engineer) and Size (I was BignTall as ever.)

Once we reached the bungalow, we first checked for the Tiffin Dabba. As we were about to settle down to have our grub, we realised the Tiffin today was heavier than usual. As we opened it we realised, it was packed with stones. A note told us we were April fooled. Hungry, insulted and angry we decided to take our revenge. We had realised that this was the work of the group of girls led by a girl called Madhuri staying in the same block from where the food had been dispatched. The girls had colluded with the messwali aunty as she was also their landlady and worked this trick on us. We were about to pick up sticks and beat the shit out of the girls when the Saint in Syric told us to be ashamed of ourselves for even thinking in that way.

Soon an idea struck us. We decide to pack the Tiffin dabbas and the stones we had received as our lunch in a big shoe box. We then wrapped the box in Blue Dart courier packaging. To make the packet look authentic we used a sticker label to write the name of Madhuri. Resourceful Rathore helped us with the inside and outside address and the name of the Madhuri’s father. I still wonder how he had all these details.

The packet was ready. The plan was to pose as a courier guy and deliver the parcel claiming some money by saying the parcel was heavy and thus Octroi was charged. To fake the encounter we used an old Octroi Challan. To make the plan foolproof we needed a guy who would have guts, would not panic under pressure, and most importantly look like a courier guy.

As the people at the mess would recognise Syric & Rathore, their participation as the courier guy was ruled out. Pranav was smart but being a no nonsense guy was a very bad actor. With no other option the courier guy role was left to me. The role demanded that I look dirty and my unshaven look helped. The script was created by Pranav and Rathore and it was very unreasonable. I had not only to deliver the packet and collect the sum of Rs.275/- but also write out a receipt. This would involve not just dialog delivery but also acting silently while others were watching. Any actor worth his salt will tell you that this was a tough conman like act.
Before leaving on my Kinetic Honda I remember giving a look to Syric and almost pleading him to pray for me. Syric was a trained but non practicing catholic priest and I still sometimes ask him to pray for me. I believe his prayers always work for me.

I very confidently carried out the plot and to this day pride myself on the gag. No one suspected and I pulled of an act worth a million dollars. Even today I sometimes think of this and feel I am in the wrong line of work.

Back with Rs.280/-, as I pretended I did not have change, I with the remaining three decided to celebrate. We walked down to Kolhapur station and ate that afternoon at the PanchGanga. When we came back to the bungalow a magnitude of girls from the girls’ hostel had descended there. A visibly disturbed Madhuri was crying. I felt sorry for her. Both Pranav and I had almost reached for our wallet to reimburse her loss but Rathore was ruthless. He went into overdrive mode and even abused the girls out of the place by telling them that they were no saints when they put stones in his dabba.

Once the girls left we burped with guilt but decided to not to pay back. The Sunday that week we took Madhuri out on an all expenses paid trip to our favourite picnic spot in Panhala. Although not in touch but we are still friends and will always remain that way. This one is for you Madhuri.