a rescue in disguise

“abbey yaar, I do have a network cable. I’ll get it shortly.”
Undoubltedly, it was Shiv. I didn’t know why I had a prejudice against many short and self-centered people in the wide world, but that was the way it was. Probably he was buzzing about network cables to transfer a movie or something. Rahul was cocksure that he had the papers. Because no sane guy from our department would even dream of recreation on an exam eve, not even toppers like Shiv. Yes, Shiv was a “topper”. The world acknowledged his success in a very weird way. Getting a 9 GPA thrice continuously was his raise to fame, and people looked at it with knit brows. Still, the department wasted not time in bestowing him with scholarships, secretary posts and what nots! Afterall, they wanted a puppet who was stupid enough to dance to their tunes and clever enough to improvise too. Shiv fit in the mould impeccably. It was a kind of symbiotic relationship between him and the department, and both found peace in the long run. But for all this, Shiv was yet another hairy creature taken for granted in the hostel landscape.
“hey did you find any notes for 8051 ports, I hunted for it in the library in vain.” he queried Avinash. “old trick” thought Rahul, and he was right. Shiv wanted to be doubly sure that nobody questioned this “movie in the eve of exam” anomaly. So he acted naturally (wow, I stumbled upon an oxymoron accidentally) to avoid stirring any controversies. He had been mothballing all the questions and answers for tomorrow well in advance. So clever of him! Rahul really disliked Shiv from the bottom of his intestines, as he put it. And the fact that he was doing under table work made matters worse. It fuelled the fire all the more.
The blaring speakers in Kareem Reddy’s room brought me back to reality. I had been sitting here and trying to analyze inter-hostellites relationships and it wan ten o clock. Rahul was blissfully spending time in the land of nod. The syllabus was unimaginably vast. Something had to be done soon! Some super human act. I speculated some unexpected storm or cyclone tomorrow, but the weather had been irritatingly hot and predictive this week, so ruled out. “Say, maybe, Mr.Vasudevan, the dean dies or something. Nope, he’s in the pink of health.”
“hey(a loud hey within myself), I read in the papers about a hartal being called off tomorrow.” I churned out all socio-political, meteorological and biological issues to procrastinate the inevitable study of 8051 ports. It was ten thirty.
Motu banged the door. I knew it was Motu because it was sounding like a holocaust.