[Show all top banners]

fortunefaded
Replies to this thread:

More by fortunefaded
What people are reading
Subscribers
Subscribers
:: Subscribe
Back to: Stories / Essays / Literature Refresh page to view new replies
 FORTUNEFADED, STORY: ALPHA MALE

[Please view other pages to see the rest of the postings. Total posts: 27]
PAGE: <<  1 2  
[VIEWED 16967 TIMES]
SAVE! for ease of future access.
The postings in this thread span 2 pages, View Last 20 replies.
Posted on 08-05-08 9:30 AM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

he full story has been posted! If you read Part I, find Part II somewhere here.

Disclaimer: Three things. First, the story is fictional and fairly long.

Second, if at any point you feel that my perverseness in writing has gone too far, I suggest you stop. It will only get more disturbing.

Third, I have not run the story through my editor.

Enjoy!



Alpha Male

When Rajiv figured out what he wanted to be in life, he was eight years old, weighed 50 kilos, and had recently acquired an alias by the name of Haati. The year was 1989. The incident occurred when Shreeya, the most adored girl in the class sat next to Pranaya, the most obnoxious boy in the school. Reason, Pranaya was a playful boy who had his ways with the ladies. Rajiv was obviously jealous and that jealousy led to nail-biting, then to head-scratching, to more nail-biting and finally to a revelation. Rajiv wanted to be the boy sitting next to Shreya, the boy who would lead the pack, the boy girls would be dying to sit next to—the alpha male.

‘Mommy, what do girls like?’ a disheartened Rajiv asked his mother that night.

Understanding that her obese son was facing an inferiority crisis, Roshani chuckled, ‘A cute boy like you.’

“No they don’t. Everyone says I am fat. They all call me Haati in school and the other day the class teacher named me Moote,’ Rajiv said with a heavy breath.

‘That’s not true,’ Roshani tried to solace her son.

‘Yes it is and it is because you put too much rice on my plate.’

‘If you don’t want to be Mote, then don’t swallow everything you see,’ came the blunt reply from Roshani.

And so Rajiv didn’t. He ate half his usual portion for dinner and the same for meals the next day, and for the next month and would religiously curb his appetite for the years to come. When Roshani realized that Rajiv might have some hope after all, she signed Rajiv up in the Karate club at school, which rather became a testament of the number of bruises he could endure than a class on self-defense. The instructor, addressed as ‘Guru,’ was a former gangster who had newly received a 2nd dan black belt and served three months of jail time. Probably in need of more discipline than the students he was teaching, Rajiv’s Guru made sure that the training was no less grueling than that of Shoaling temple. Disadvantaged by weight, Rajiv was clumsy when it came to performing forms. His Guru carried a carefully manufactured stick that would easily qualify for a police’s baton and every time Rajiv made errors during forms, he would get smacks with the stick. Though most of his classmates quit the club within few weeks Rajiv had different plans for himself.

Because of rigorous training and lower carbohydrates, Rajiv went from a 50 kilo eight-year-old to a 35 kilo ten-year-old by the end of fifth grade. He looked skinny fit, was one of the fastest boys in class and excelled at sports. Priti even remarked that she liked the way he broke the tiles in the sports day that year. Rajiv had a huge grin on his way home from the awards ceremony as he wrapped a blue belt that he had won after the sparring competition around his waist.
***************************************************************

‘You failed in Mathematics? And the teacher said you cheated! Thuika! You are a disgrace to my intelligence’ screamed Puskar at his son.

A high school teacher in Mathematics, Puskar’s anger was reasonable when Rajiv secured 35 points out of hundred in the final, of which Rajiv had copied 15 points from Pranaya, 10 points from the girl next to him, and 10 points on his own. The class teacher was very generous and allowed Rajiv to advance to the next grade. Rajiv forgot the resounding slap in the cheek from the irate father but not the first day of sixth grade when Pranaya was appointed the Class Captain.

Pranaya had secured first position in the class five finals and thus the rightful title of the Class Captain in class six, toppling the girl who had never been second and never stopped wiping her nose with the same handkerchief since kindergarten. In the months that followed, Pranaya not only managed to be the class teacher’s pet but learned to abuse the power vested upon him. There were explicit rules laid out such as speaking only in English in the school ground and tacit ones that had to do with promptly following Pranaya’s order or be prepared to face belts, rulers, sticks, punches, or any form of punishment Pranaya was in the mood for. Since Pranaya was the teacher’s pet, the students would never dare to complain, and bitterly obliged to the Nazi rule laid out before them.

On the other hand, Pranaya was less strict to the girls, becoming very popular with them. Unknown to Rajiv, in the name of comparing homework answers, helping girls with mathematics, and keeping the class in control, Pranaya had become the alpha male. When a girl gave a card to Pranaya and shared her lunch during recess on February 14, 1993, Rajiv’s pupil dilated for the second time.

In the meantime, Puskar took a deliberate effort to help his son with school. He would meticulously look into Rajiv’s assignments, quiz his son twice a month and once before the term exams. It was apparent that Rajiv wasn’t devoid of intelligence, but rather his laziness had taken a toll on his grades. With an equally Nazi-like environment at home, Rajiv finished ranking 7th in the class of 25 at the end of sixth grade. Not only Puskar but Rajiv had also recognized his own potential. Around the same time, Rajiv’s Karate Guru was sent to prison for the second time. Rumor had it that he was in a scuffle with some policemen. The school had enough complains about the Guru from the parents and didn’t bother to hire another one. Consequently, Rajiv’s training was put at a halt.

************************************************************************

With the firm handshake came ‘Congratulations,’ to be followed by the bow to the principal. Rajiv ranked first in 7th Grade finals and bagged the rightful appointment of the Class Captain. Rajiv had won 5 medals from the sports competition and two with academic achievement, one being the ‘The student who has significantly improved his/her standings.’

Carrying a smug, Rajiv applied the hair oil, carefully combing to mark the hairline, donning the ironed blue shirt and pants, the new tie he had bought, and dress shoes Puskar gifted his son. The advent of eighth grade marked Pranaya’s downfall as the alpha male of the class and Rajiv’s ascendancy to the role. Smart, handsome, talented, girls began to adore him while the guys envied his status. Nonetheless, Rajiv wasn’t a tyrant like Pranaya and got along with everyone, becoming the teacher’s pet and even garnering three cards on that year’s Valentine’s Day. One of them was from Shreeya. Rajiv replied the next day with a card. He even wrote a cheesy poem in it. Shreeya thought it was sweet and gave him a smile before leaving school that day.

Telephone had recently been introduced to the middle-class mass in the Valley. A necessity by today’s standard, it was a luxury Rajiv and Shreeya both indulged in. They talked on the phone most nights about school, teachers, the usual gossip of the day, and imitating Bollywood flicks always hung up with an ‘I love you.’ Rajiv surely hadn’t understood the concept of love yet.

‘Decadence’ was the concept Rajiv would soon begin to comprehend. It was a trip to Sundarijal with his buddies during ninth grade when Rajiv smoked cigarettes and drank alcohol for the first time. With eyes closed, he chugged two mugs of the local liquor made from rice, spilling a third on the table and a quarter on his shirt. The smell reeked a good few yards away. A Brahmin who never touched alcohol, Puskar, welcomed his son in the house with two slaps on the face and a pound on the back that would have been devastating had Roshani not interfered.

The slap did little to stop Rajiv from drinking and smoking again. Pretending to work on a science project for the school fair, he would stay at his friend’s house when their parents were away and drink the night away. That was an occasional hiatus from the academics, usually once every two months. A growing adolescent, it was during those sleepovers Rajiv learned a great deal about sex, booze and rock music. They watched western porn flicks, head banged to Metallica’s Enter Sandman, laughed over dirty jokes and learned to curse. And curse he did, though not understanding the gravity of the words. It made him feel accepted in the circle of boys and not long after, he had become a master of jokes, cracking dirty jokes during recess in groups while the guys listened attentively.

The next slap from Puskar came when Rajiv called Loke, their housekeeper an alchi muji for not thoroughly cleaning the mango stains on his shirt. Puskar was reading his Saturday Gorkhapatra and caught Rajiv yelling at the obedient housekeeper who plainly stammered hus during the whole tirade. Roshani and Puskar were shocked, and Rajiv even more the next day when a friend told him the word refers to a woman’s pubic hair.

Things had been shaky between Rajiv and his girlfriend. Shreeya opposed Rajiv’s occasional smoking and his friends who were pressuring Rajiv to lose his virginity. With testosterone off the roof, Rajiv wanted sex and Shreeya wouldn’t let him touch anywhere below the neck. Their relationship ended on 1998, while Rajiv was waiting for the SLC results. Ironically, Rajiv did extremely well in his SLCs, securing distinction and a 50 percent scholarship to a private plus-two institution in the Valley.

**********************************************************************

‘Have you smoked Ganja?’ asked Anil, as he took out the tobacco from the cigarette and carefully mixed it with the Marijuana. Anil was Rajiv’s eleventh grade friend and when school was canceled that day, the duo, along with two more guys decided to go to Godawari. That was the first time Rajiv smoked pot. While his friends told him nobody takes a trip on their first try, Rajiv proved them otherwise. He was flying, and flying high. He started laughing and talking about having the hots for Manisha, the hottest girl in the class according to general consensus. Rajiv loved the feeling of being loosened up after smoking that day. He remembers saying that it was even better than getting drunk.

He enjoyed the sedative feeling and would soon bunk from school to smoke at Godawari. They called it their ‘junction,’ where the four friends would meet every Friday at two to sit in the spring grass to burn more grass, enjoying the greenery. After a good hit, their conversation usually revolved around school, girls, Manisha, and the size of her breasts. Before heading for home, Rajiv would take a gum, or polo to hide the smell of weed reeking from his mouth. One night Roshani suspected something when her son came in late, with bloodshot eyes and went straight to bed without having dinner. When Puskar asked why his son wasn’t eating dinner, Roshani made up a story about fever and feeding Rajiv ‘jaulo.’

Rajiv didn’t stop there. His visits to Godawari became more frequent, up to two times a week, and soon enough Anil introduced the group to Cabin Restaurants. Another name for brothels, these were legal restaurants containing wooden cubicles with promiscuous waitresses insisting any guest to order the highly overpriced beer and food. In exchange, the guests would enjoy what Rajiv dubbed the three Fs—flirt, fondle and f**k. He never made it to the last F. But the first two F he did. The first time it was with Reenu, and after that the name didn’t matter. They were all the same to him, some willing, others hesitant, with the rest in between. He was still a virgin.

That would change when Anil took the group to a massage parlor in Thamel. It was a rainy day, and they were all tipsy and that’s where Rajiv met Sweta. Dressed to kill, Sweta was not only gorgeous compared to the other prostitutes but she was a screamer. When he penetrated her, ‘Aiya, Tapai ko ta katro thulo rahecha’ was the painful remark. Rajiv couldn’t decipher whether she was telling the truth or exaggerating. Nonetheless, he was happy. So, come he did and back he came. Every week, for the next few months.

He soon learned Sweta was from Rautahut, and had joined the bandwagon of villagers heading towards Kathmandu in search of work after the Maoist insurgency started recruiting villagers and made life miserable at home. Unable to work in a factory with meager wage, she joined a Cabin Restaurant in Baneshwor. When police raided the Cabin Restaurant where she worked, she decided to join a massage parlor in Thamel. There she made enough to take care of herself and her eight-year-old boy and three-year-old girl. Her husband was one of the early recruits in the Maoist’s People’s Army. With the increasing visits, Rajiv and Sweta started bonding and for the first time in life Rajiv actually fell for a girl.

***********************************************************************

Puskar’s rage knew no bound when he found out that his son was paying to sleep with a prostitute cum girlfriend who also happened to be a mother of two. It wasn’t just slaps this time, but belts, punches and kicks that followed as Roshani watched with tearful eyes from the corner. She didn’t stop her husband this time and Puskar didn’t stop for a long time. Finally Puskar pleaded his son to get rid of these habits—the Marijuana, the brothel, and hanging out with Anil and his group of friends. Seeing both parents with teary eyes something triggered Rajiv’s conscience that evening. That night he did a lot of soul-searching and realized not only was he no longer an alpha male but he had turned into something hideous. He never went back to the massage parlor again. Anil later told Rajiv that Sweta had gone back to Rautahaut for good. That evening before dinner, Roshani found Rajiv bleeding in his room with left wrist cut, and Sweta name inscribed in it. Two weeks later, and two months before the 11th grade finals, Rajiv was diagnosed with unipolar depression.

The doctor put Rajiv on some kind of a serotonin uptake inhibitor pills. A hesitant Roshani asked the psychologist whether it was really necessary to take the antidepressant drugs. The doctor assured that it would help Rajiv and Roshani made sure he took them as directed. Puskar even hired a tutor for his son before the finals and Rajiv labored daily, making up for the loss during the year. When the grades came out in the middle of 12th grade, Rajiv had barely passed in three of the five subjects. Paradoxically, he did very well in Physics and scored the highest in Mathematics from the whole school. Next day Manisha came up to him to ask if he could solve a calculus problem.

Soon enough, Manisha and Rajiv had everyone’s green eyes. Those who envied labeled Rajiv a Psycho Gadazi but Manisha knew better and encouraged Rajiv to be himself once again. She found him smart, attractive and caring. They studied together, they hung out with friends together, took part in clubs together, and occasionally they would kiss. Manisha was the girlfriend that Rajiv had at the right time in his life. With the advent of the end of high school, Manisha and Rajiv’s relationship was going stronger than ever and so were Rajiv’s academics. Manisha wanted to study medicine in the Institute of Medicine (IOM) at Maharajgunj and Rajiv would study engineering in the Institute of Engineering at Pulchowk, that is if everything went as planned.

****************************************************************************

The slap didn’t physically hurt but the emotional trauma left both estranged. It was in Rajiv’s room as they were kissing when Rajiv tried to touch Manisha’s breasts. She hesitantly complied, but when Rajiv made the foolhardy attempt to reach out for third base, she grabbed his hand to stop and he didn’t, the slap followed. She got up and left. Rajiv stayed still, with a wet finger, unable to fathom what had just occurred.

That was the first time Rajiv was hurt in their relationship. She called to talk about it, while he would not hear anything unless she apologized. Without really communicating they argued on the phone, which only made things worse. During one of the phone confrontations, Rajiv went on a rage and called Manisha a bhalu (whore). He knew he had put the last straw that broke the camel’s back. He was devastated. Manisha was as well, but she would never forgive him and he knew better. Three months later, Manisha received admission to IOM while Rajiv did not appear for the exams at Pulchowk that year. Two months later, he decided to move on.

That was when a neighbor came to Rajiv’s house with a box of ‘buniyako laddu,’ flaunting that his son was going to US on a full scholarship. Rajiv listened very attentively and then scrapping the engineering plan at pulchowk, went to the book store near Ghantaghar to buy a couple of hefty SAT books and a new dictionary. He had scored a high first division in the 12th grade exams and determined to apply abroad, cooped up in his room for months to study for the SATs, scoring 95 percentile in Verbal and 98 in Math. Rajiv crafted a semi-plausible essay about dealing with depression on a third world country and managed to get great recommendations from the Math and Physics teachers.

Nothing made Puskar and Roshani happier than when Rajiv received a FED-EX package from Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. It was a full scholarship. Predictably, the visa interview was a joke. Before leaving for United States, Rajiv was taken off the anti-depressant pills.





********************************************************************

PART II:




Rajiv landed on Chicago OHare Airport on September 5, 2000. The new millennium had kicked in, Y2K bug was long extinct, Einstein was the man of the century, and Rajiv was optimistic of the future. Two sophomore students came to the airport to pick up Rajiv. One of them was Julia, a skinny girl from Argentina whose low-rise jeans revealed the tattoo on the lower back and the cleavage beneath that. On the ride to Northwestern University (NU) campus, she mentioned her desire to see mountains of Nepal while Rajiv expressed his dedication for the Argentine soccer team.

That night Julia took Rajiv to a party in a fraternity house. The scene was similar to any other fraternity parties in college campuses all over the country with underage students holding beer cans, asynchronously tapping their feet to the music, another bunch sitting on a futon talking gibberish, a drunk couple exchanging bodily fluids in the corner, and a group playing a game with a table tennis ball and cups of beer.

‘What’s that?’
‘What? Beirut? It’s a beer game. You wanna play?’ Julia asked.
‘Can you teach me?’
‘Sure. Come on, let’s play then.’


She explained the rules of Beirut, which was in short throwing ping pong balls in cups and drinking beer off of it. Rajiv was excited. Five games later, losing three in a row, Rajiv found himself in Amalia’s room. He gleefully smiled when she took off her top but passed out in the couch before she could reveal more of the cleavage under the tattoo.

International student orientation was an experience. Rajiv had met people from more countries in three days than in his entire life. Then came the American students, and along with them, Rajiv’s roommate, Adrian. Adrian was a Chicago native who had gone to a private preppy high school in the Chicago suburbs. When Adrian moved in to the room, Rajiv was hit with a jolt of inferiority crisis. Adrian had a cell phone, the latest Sony Vaio laptop, a PlayStation 2 and a 21 inch TV set. Caucasian, 6’2”, brown hair, muscular-built, Adrian wore factory-cut frayed jeans, drove an Audi, and played Lacrosse for the NU team.

Puskar had managed to squeeze in 5000 dollars from his savings to help Rajiv with personal expenses. Rajiv didn’t have to pay for tuition, room and board, and thus the money was enough for a year. Still, he signed up for an on campus job in the library, working 15 hours a week.

To his surprise, Adrian showed an interest to know this confused alien from a third world country. Adrian taught Raiv that vending machines don’t take one-cent coins, that it was not biscuits but cookies, and that f**k is the most flexible word in the English language, with its ability to be used as a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb.

Adrian took a conscious effort to help Rajiv assimilate with the American students. That was when Rajiv met the rowdiest and most undisciplined college-goers in his life. He noticed that most of the upper-middle class Americans didn’t just have a house with swimming pool and a BMW in common. The girls had died their hair some shade of blonde, their pale body disguised with some shade of tan, which in turn was covered with some company that made Velour tracksuits, and when they conversed, they frequently went ‘ohh my gooddd,’ to be followed by ‘I knowww,’ and ‘that’s so hotttt.’ The guys were not much different, talking about American football, sports cars, hooking up with fresh meat, another name for freshmen girls, and getting shitfaced—a term Rajiv later found out meant getting extremely drunk and had nothing to do with feces or face.

************************************************************

Rajiv first heard the term Alpha Male in his sociology class. Asleep on most days during 8 am lectures, Rajiv was full awake when the Professor brought up the topic of class and status in the American culture. He then went to talk about the alpha male.

‘…Alpha male is a term used to describe the most selective male to mate for a female in a group of animals. Nowadays it describes the successful man in human society. …..The selection of an alpha male in animals constitutes strength, health, power while, as you can imagine, in humans they have become more subtle. For today’s man the criteria have become, but not limited to abundance of money, power, prestige, intelligence, physical features, and personality…. The alpha male of today drives the latest Benz, wears designer clothes, infuses confidence while exuding sexuality, and leads the betas and omegas in the survival of the fittest. The leading man among the men, the alpha is at the pinnacle of the pecking order, and thus chooses any female he desires…Depending on the crowd, the alpha male also varies. In concerts, he is the anorexic rock star with tattos, in the basketball playoffs, the top scoring NBA player with cheering fans, in the annual playboy party, the Hugh Hefner with playmates…’

As he listened, Rajiv came to realize the bitter reality that he was a no one here — he was the omega of Northwestern. He told Adrian about the lecture.

‘Dude I don’t know what this Alpha male thing you are talking about. But let me tell you what gets you respect in college. Yeah, yeah there is the academics and discovering yourself crap. But guys are here for two reasons: one to make mistakes; second to have fun. The more mistakes you can make and get away with and the more fun you can have, the greater respect you gain.’

‘What kind of fun?’ asked Rajiv.

‘ Fun means drinking, partying hard, and nailing chicks. That’s the naked truth. Welcome to college.’

College wasn’t just about academics. It was about fun and making mistakes. Rajiv wanted to make mistakes. That night Rajiv was wakened up by a girl moaning in Adrian’s bed. He went to bed, with a pillow over his head. Next day Rajiv expressed his desire to have fun.

‘Now we are talking,’ Adrian replied.

They went to a fraternity dance party one Friday night.

‘Can you dance?’ Adrian asked.
‘Not really.’
‘Then, drink this.’

It was bud light. Two hours later Rajiv was pressing against a chubby Caucasian girl who seemed too drunk for her own good. Even for a tipsy Rajiv the dancing was too perverse to continue. Surprisingly, the girl managed to push her beer-reeking tongue inside Rajiv’s mouth before her embarrassed friends forcefully dragged her away. Adrian saw that and smiled in approval. Rajiv was beginning to understand the game. Friday night came next week. Rajiv was getting drunk and dancing with more Caucasian 18-year-olds. He wasn’t able to bring one to this room though. He blamed it on his poor dancing skills and signed up for a dance class on campus. There was always a girl moaning in Adrian’s bed on Friday nights. Rajiv bought a pair of ear plugs.

*******************************************************
The fall quarter ended and Rajiv had a 3.8 GPA but hadn’t had sex in America. Rajiv went with Adrian to a club in downtown Chicago in December 31, 2000. The club wasn’t packed and Adrian was already busy with a girl in the bar. Rajiv ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. He drank two glasses in 10 minutes. There was a guy taking the spotlight with hip-hop moves and a mid-20s woman curiously watching the dance floor. Rajiv went up to the woman.

‘So, how important do you think it is for a guy to dance like that?’ Rajiv asked the girl with some courage.

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you show me how good you are?’ she replied as she embraced his shoulder.

‘I am Raj.’
‘Razz? Emily.’

It was awkward, she couldn’t dance and Rajiv felt sorry as she clung onto his shoulders and moved her hips so out of beat that Rajiv would have made an excuse and left did she not have a southern accent that went very well with her attractive body. They danced for two whole songs. She was an epitome of blonde, blue-eyed country girl and Rajiv was drunk. They took tequila shots together. Rajiv had two more Long Island.

‘Hey you wanna get out of here?’

*************************************************************
Rajiv woke up at 8 am. When he came out of the bathroom, there was a boy, probably eight years old, eating cheerios in the dining table.

‘Razz, this is Marvin, my son.’

He wouldn’t do this again, at least not in college. Rajiv made an excuse about a brunch appointment and left.

Winter quarter began. The Dot-com bubble had racked up too much money and Rajiv was tempted. He declared Computer Science as his major, with a Math minor. Winter quarter looked more promising. Adrian was his mentor and Rajiv was learning to talk with the ladies. Rajiv began going to the gym when Ardian explained not only will he be attractive but it will increase his libido. Raiv started going out on Saturday nights. One such night, Rajiv got lucky with an 18-year-old brunette. The luck followed every Saturday night that quarter and the next. Rajiv was climbing up the hierarchical ladder. Adrian bought a pair of ear-plugs.

It was the summer of 2001. Rajiv worked full-time on a research regarding Ramsey Theory with a Math Professor. He also tutored AP Calculus to a high school kid. The campus was dead in the summer compared to the academic year. Bored out of his mind, one fine day Rajiv went to a Nepali gathering in Chicago. That’s when Rajiv met Ajita, a sophomore at Purdue, a university three hours south of Chicago. Ajita wasn’t the most attractive of girls he had been with, but she was Nepali. The conservation that started out with hajur, slided to tapai, then to timi, to finally Rajiv managing to get Ajita’s number. Two weeks later, the phone rang.

‘Hello. Ajita, ke cha?’

Rajiv and Ajita went to a Nepali Restaurant in Evanston. The conversation was random, with talks about high school, Bollywood movies, being student in US, and the longing for Nepal and home-cooked food. Ajita was a Biology major at Purdue and a year older than Rajiv. The conversation veered into academics. Rajiv listened as she expressed the intricacies of drug design, Ajita’s field of interest. Ajita listened as Rajiv talked about pigeonhole principle in Ramsey theory. He went to explain how some systems that seem to exhibit entropy, actually tend to have patterns. When she started showing the deer-in-headlights look, Rajiv summed up the theory as trying to find order in chaos. They parted, both wanting to meet again.

Towards the end of summer, Rajiv’s grandfather died of cancer. Rajiv called Ajita. She came to see him in his dorm. Rajiv was grieving, Ajita’s eyes watered, and she did not resist; they ended up making out. They both knew it would be hard to sustain a long distance relationship. When Rajiv told her that they shouldn’t jump into a relationship right away, she resisted the reflex action to smack his face. He was still grieving and she was ready to give him some time to think it through.

Sophomore year began. Rajiv joined a fraternity known for outrageous parties on campus. Ajita wasn’t happy but Rajiv cared less. She called once a week to check up on him and they would talk but nothing further. She had developed feelings for a guy who became insensitive by the day, rarely called her back and made every attempt to make him look masculine. She wasn’t sure whether it was the way he kissed her that first time or the fact that she was chasing after a guy she couldn’t have that made her want Rajiv even more.

************************************************************
The black eye was the first for Rajiv in the United States. While drunk he asked Melisa, a sorority girl from his Art History class, for a dance and when she politely refused, he insisted, grabbing her hand. Melisa’s 6’2” footballer boyfriend tackled Rajiv a good 10 feet. The punch followed. Rajiv’s brothers from the fraternity stopped the footballer before the fight got nasty. Everyone put the blame on Rajiv and he was assigned 25 more hours of community service by the fraternity. He called up Ajita. She came the following Saturday.

‘Rajiv, this is not you. This life style you are living, with these white frat guys who drink all night and sleep with even more drunk white Barbie-like girls dressed in skimpy clothes, it’s not you. I don’t know what you are trying to become. I told you it was a bad idea. I am sorry. You do not need to drink every weekend or play American football to feel accepted.’

Suffering from a headache due to the hangover, Rajiv began sobbing when Ajita made him see the grim reality. He complained about school, pressure on drinking, and living up to the brothers in the frat. Ajita still had feelings for that boy who was passionate about explaining Ramsey theory. They went out for dinner and Rajiv did not drink. They ended up sleeping together.

Four weeks later, summer came. Rajiv landed an internship at a software company while Ajita interned in a pharmaceutical company, both in Chicago. They lived close by in the city. Unlike the rest of 9 months, the city was lively in the summer. They explored more of Chicago, and Rajiv explained more of Ramsey theory while Ajita explained more about drug-design. She enjoyed his vegetable curry while he relished her chiken briyani. He was happy once again to converse with someone in Nepali and she was relieved that he was showing signs of progress.

‘He looks like a keeper,’ a friend from Purdue commented to Ajita after dinner one summer night.

*******************************************************************
Junior year went at light speed. Rajiv went home during winter. Things had changed. When Rajiv said he was from America, everyone stared at him for a good few seconds. His old neighborhood friends took him to disco bars in the Valley. He had the money, the confidence, the intelligence, and the looks; suddenly Rajiv was on the top of the pecking order. He didn’t really have to flirt with other girls, instead they came up to him. The limelight was too bright. He came back to the United States with the same confidence. He bought a BMW, taking out a huge loan on his credit card. Ajita was against the idea, but then again she couldn’t change his mind. She was busy with her thesis in her final year and Rajiv was preoccupied with junior year academic fever. One Friday night, Melisa came to the Frat house. She had broken it off with her footballer boyfriend. She was grieving, and went to Rajiv’s room. Rajiv shared the pain. Conscience-stricken, Rajiv called Ajita two days later.

‘I made a terrible mistake.’
‘What?’
Silence.
‘Did you sleep with anyone?’
Silence. Ajita started sobbing.
‘Just tell me if you slept with anyone or not?’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘It’s a fu****g yes or no.’
‘Yes.’
‘Who?’
‘Melissa.’
‘You are a pig.’

She hung up the phone. Summer started. Rajiv tried to win her back. She didn’t answer his calls, nor replied his emails. Ajita was now working in a company in Chicago. Tragedy struck. Her grandmother succumbed to cancer that summer. She felt alone and emailed Rajiv to come over. She was grieving. He grieved with her. They ended up sleeping together. Spooning in bed, Rajiv promised he would never cheat on her, blaming it on his mental health. He told her about the depression earlier in his life and she empathized. He agreed to visit a shrink, and she agreed to be together. Once hailed as the wonder drug of the 90s, Prozac was the drug the doctor prescribed for Rajiv.

***********************************************************************

Senior year came with a lot of promises. Rajiv moved out of the fraternity and lived off campus. Ajita also got an apartment nearby. Their relationship was going strong. Rajiv was slowly changing, the drugs helped. Every now and then he drank but Ajita didn’t mind. He was one of the best players in Beirut in the Frat House and partied every now and then. Rajiv landed a job in an IT company in Chicago where he had done a co-op. Rajiv graduated from NU in May and in the June of 2004, Rajiv and Ajita engaged. They were both from the same caste and their parents couldn’t be happier. They would marry in Nepal a year later.

*********************************************************************

A friend at work told Ajita that she had seen Rajiv fooling with a girl in a bar. Ajita was furious. She went home, cried alone for a few hours. When Rajiv came back, she asked him about the girl in a bar. Rajiv confessed, repeatedly mentioning it meant nothing and was a fraternity thing. Tears, snot, books, tissues, phone, everything was flying around as Rajiv kept quiet. Ajita left. Rajiv called her numerous times. She wouldn’t pick up or let him come in her apartment. Ajita called Rajiv two weeks later.

‘It’s over and I want to tell you something before we move on.’
‘You know that I am very sorry.’
‘Shut up,’ she interrupted.
‘I thought you would change. But you are like those criminals committing crimes after getting out of prison. Shoot, what’s the word?’

‘Recidivism.’

‘Yes, you are a recidivist, a f**king recidivist. Do you remember that time we met in the Nepali restaurant and you told me about Ramsey theory?’

‘Yes. What does that have to do with anything?’

‘You told me how the theory is about finding order in chaos.’

‘Yeah something like that.’

‘ That’s what you need to do Rajiv. Your life is so full of shit and you are completely lost. Find yourself. Find who you are. Don’t do everything on an impulse. You do not have to sleep with every dumb blonde to prove your masculinity. Neither do you need to chug beer faster than any guy in the fraternity or beat them in Beirut. I don’t even understand why you bought a BMW last year by taking out unnecessary loans. By trying to become some sort of stud, you are crashing your life. You are lost and I can’t help you find yourself.’

Silence.

‘I’ve had enough. I got a job in New York. I had decided of rejecting the offer. But not now. Not after the hell you have made me go through. I never stopped believing in you. I thought you would change. Anyways, I am leaving next week. Good luck.’
She hung up.

Her voice was very emphatic. Realizing she wouldn’t return, Rajiv cleaned up his room. He grieved, alone.

*************************************************************

The year was 2005. Rajiv had slept with three women since the fight, two were coworkers from office. Both of them ended up cheating on him. He was tired of picking girls in the bar. Instead, Rajiv found things to keep himself preoccupied. He took a Karate class in a club, learned skiing in the winter, and volunteered at the Chicagoland Nepali Pariwar to help organize events. Despite his efforts, he did not meet another Ajita. On October, He received an email from Manisha, his high school girlfriend.

‘Hello Rajiv, Guess what? I am in Chicago. I am doing a residency in the University of Chicago hospital. I heard you are also here. Call me. Below is my number.’

They met for dinner in Gaylord, an Indian restaurant in Chicago downtown. Manisha talked about her first time cutting up a dead corpse while Rajiv talked about Ramsey theory. She did not understand, and he did not simplify. Then, they took an evening walk in the beach. The fall wind was getting strong.

‘I heard about your engagement. I am sorry.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So, how about you? Any guy in your life?’

‘Nooooo. Noo. Haha. Noo.’

‘Haha.’

‘So Rajiv, what exactly are you doing these days?’

‘I am trying to find order in chaos,’ Rajiv smiled, politely.

A gust of wind roared over the Windy City. Along with that, the first snow of October started covering the ground.


The End.

P.S. Sorry for deleting everyone's previous comments. I tried to upload the story so it wouldn't be in the middle of the thread and there was some error while posting. So I deleted my first post, for reasons I do not understand. Thus to get the story to be on the top, I had to delete quite a few comments. But I still appreciate your feedback.

Last edited: 11-Aug-08 02:29 PM

 
Posted on 08-11-08 9:43 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

 

FF, the second part was brilliantly put!  For all Neps still in college, FF has perfectly summed up what you all need to know: Stay on campus folks!!  That would be the only way you'd assimiliate with the culture here (or whatever they have here) and you'd find youself creating a network with similar minded peeps who may be a better choice of friends to break into your industry of study...Frats may be party houses to the short-sighted peeps, but some of the networks you could make there could determine if you'd be a 6 figure baller or not!  Its all how you make outta it. 

BTW, most parts of it made me reminisce my college years (that still remains a huge blur). 

 


 
Posted on 08-12-08 11:36 AM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

FF, what a beautiful ending.....always a pleasure to read.
 
Posted on 08-12-08 5:25 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

Time for another thank you and the song I have been waiting to post.

freak_alien,
nice to hear you were good at drinking games. how bout a game of beer pong? 

cheerios,
That's what I had for breakfast! hehe. Haven't seen you around. You must be new. Welcome to sajha.

sahayog,
your observation is correct. I will an excerpt and the song that basically sums up the story.

Sam,
Pleasure to see your comments. Yes, frats can be a great source of connections. It's not always about drinking and parties. Were you in a one during college years?

ranii,
I felt I was very abrupt in the ending but oh well good to know someone liked it.
 
Posted on 08-12-08 5:27 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

 

Last edited: 14-Aug-08 08:23 PM

 
Posted on 08-12-08 5:49 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 


Ok, I posted it earlier but deleted it for reasons I do not understand. The thread felt incomplete without the song. Talking about the song, Anthony Kiedis' said

'....It's about the repeated failure to start your life anew and how difficult it can be to get rid of old ways of thinking and old destructive ideas we become so attached to. We just don't think we can actually go forward without in some way keeping hold of this old way of thinking. And once you get rid of the old ways of thinking, you start out with a blank canvass.....and how freeing that is and how it allows you to open up and be a free man...'


Snow( Hey Oh!): RHCP
<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="https://www.youtube.com/v/VLOQY4LZSaQ&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="https://www.youtube.com/v/VLOQY4LZSaQ&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></object>




Last edited: 12-Aug-08 05:51 PM

 
Posted on 08-15-08 4:21 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

FortuneFaded,

WOW. I dont know how all your writings went unnoticed by me, but I guess I have not been looking around in sajha too much nowadays. Your writing(s) (I read a couple more) are so completely breath taking. You have quite an imagination and a really good way to express them. Your words, your language etc are so mesmerizing. I am a HUGE fan. (and a little jealous of your talent too!!:P) I think you should write more. BRAVO. :)


 
Posted on 08-15-08 5:10 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

Interesting story :-)

 



PAGE: <<  1 2  
Please Log in! to be able to reply! If you don't have a login, please register here.

YOU CAN ALSO



IN ORDER TO POST!




Within last 60 days
Recommended Popular Threads Controvertial Threads
TPS Re-registration case still pending ..
Toilet paper or water?
ढ्याउ गर्दा दसैँको खसी गनाउच
Tourist Visa - Seeking Suggestions and Guidance
To Sajha admin
From Trump “I will revoke TPS, and deport them back to their country.”
Are Nepalese cheapstakes?
wanna be ruled by stupid or an Idiot ?
MAGA denaturalization proposal!!
Nepali Psycho
advanced parole
How to Retrieve a Copy of Domestic Violence Complaint???
NOTE: The opinions here represent the opinions of the individual posters, and not of Sajha.com. It is not possible for sajha.com to monitor all the postings, since sajha.com merely seeks to provide a cyber location for discussing ideas and concerns related to Nepal and the Nepalis. Please send an email to admin@sajha.com using a valid email address if you want any posting to be considered for deletion. Your request will be handled on a one to one basis. Sajha.com is a service please don't abuse it. - Thanks.

Sajha.com Privacy Policy

Like us in Facebook!

↑ Back to Top
free counters