The Drifting Stones: From the Author of Dreams of the Mango People

By Anis Bari and Nilay Bipul

Anis Bari is the author of two acclaimed books- Dreams of The Mango People, an inspirational book on how ordinary people choose to become extra-ordinary, and a monograph, Decoding Startups, which has notes on startups along with useful entrepreneurial frameworks. He has received many awards including the most promising entrepreneur of the year award by TiE (The Indus Entrepreneur) and has been a winner of the European Union Business Challenge. Born in Patna (Bihar), Anis went on to study engineering from PES Institute of Technology (Bangalore) and an MBA from the Asian Institute of Management (Founded by Harvard Business School & Ford Foundation), Manila. He is an International Rated Chess Player and a Global Shaper Alumni of the World Economic Forum. Currently, he is a Mason Fellow at Harvard Kennedy School.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Feb 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781543709018

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Copyright © 2023 by .

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover Design: Sangram Soni

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

Dedicated to a friend who inspired us

to write but

couldn’t read this book today. Gone yet not forgotten.

Kahani Filmy Hai…

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Contents

S0-CALLED IIT PREPARATION

Chala Murari Hero Banne

Ladki Ko Mana Kar Diya

And The Result

A NEW LIFE, A NEW BEGINNING

Doobte Ko Tinke Ka Sahara

The Turning Brains on The Running Train

The Golden Gate

The First Day @ Engineering College

Bhabhi Hai Teri

Cinderella & Gorilla

The So-Called Exam Preparation

Valentine’s Day

P-P-P (Pahla Pahla Pyar) Model

The Orkut Days

What You Seek is Seeking You

The Proposal Day

Life is Full of Screw Ups

I HAVE A PLAN… FATE HAS A DESIGN

Patna Ki Ghatna

The Reunion

Always There, in Birthday Bash as well as in Lehman Brother Crash

Tying The Knot

Role Changed; Salary Unchanged

And The Media House

Relative’s Talks Are Always Relative

It’s More Fun in The Philippines

1st Marriage is Overrated, 2nd Marriage is Underrated

Meeting in The Dream or Somewhere in The Sky

Set Me Free

She is A Wish, She has No Reason

About The Authors

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Anis Bari is the author of two acclaimed books- Dreams of The Mango People, an inspirational book on how ordinary people choose to become extra-ordinary, and a monograph, Decoding Startups, which has notes on startups along with useful entrepreneurial frameworks. He has received many awards including the most promising entrepreneur of the year award by TiE (The Indus Entrepreneur) and has been a winner of European Union Business Challenge. Born in Patna (Bihar), Anis went on to study engineering from PES Institute of Technology (Bangalore) and MBA from Asian Institute of Management (Founded by Harvard Business School & Ford Foundation), Manila. He is an International Rated Chess Player and a Global Shaper Alumni at World Economic Forum. Currently, he is a Mason Fellow at Harvard Kennedy School.

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Nilay Bipul is the author of Brush Up Ur Quant, a modern reference guide for any youth for building fundamentals in quantitative aptitude. Nilay has worked for reputed multinational shipping companies and has travelled around the world. He utilizes his time for learning and sharing through various youth platforms. Born in Patna (Bihar), Nilay went to study marine engineering from MERI (Kolkata) and Masters in Maritime Economics from Rotterdam School of Management in Netherlands.

S0-Called IIT Preparation

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Chala Murari Hero Banne

Picture this: a floor covered with every possible IIT preparatory book, a fourth cup of tea on the verge of toppling over, and the two of us, lazing around on the floor with a Resnik & Halliday under my head, and a Morrison & Boyd under his. I poked Malay and asked him in a matter-of-factly manner Which IIT will be good for us?

Malay replied in a firm tone as if we were going to crack IIT as toppers, I think IIT Bombay Aerospace is alright, IIT Kanpur Electrical is good and IIT Delhi is also ok for a few branches. He discarded the remaining IITs as if they were not even worth a mention. After an almost a serious discussion on which IITs are good enough for us (completely ignoring the real question- are we good enough for the IIT?), we made yet another failed attempt to solve previous year’s IIT question paper and while our minds were busy playing tug of war with that monstrous question, someone knocked the door, which broke our so-called concentration.

"Kaun Hai?" I yelled, when someone knocked on the door. Inspite of the harshness in my voice, the reply was full of concern and warmth. My mother replied, Beta, Bahar room me aao, Koi milne aaya hai. It was inertia that prevented us from getting up, but somehow, we managed to move out from the study room, which recently had a makeover from a scrap room to study room.

My dad said, Beta, tum dono idhar aao, ek bhaiya aaye hain aur wo tumlog ko thora guide kar denge. We entered the drawing room and greeted that Bhaiya with a smile. It seems he was eagerly waiting for us as he jumped straight to the point, doing away with all pleasantries. So how is the preparation going on and which colleges are you guys are aiming for?

Before anyone could say anything, Malay replied IIT Kanpur and IIT Bombay. That guy started staring at both of us as if we said something weird or were just portraying ourselves to be the next Einstein. Well… after having a cup of tea, he in fact requested us to sit for other entrance examinations too. It was this very suggestion that made us doubt this fellow’s worth regarding giving us guidance. I asked him from where he graduated. He confidently replied PESIT. So, I smiled and again asked, "but which college?" He replied again PESIT. This time both Malay and I got irritated and Malay dared to ask him again Bhaiya, wo to theek hai ki aap Pay Seat se gaye ho par college ka naam kya hai?

It was evident that this upset our guest but being polite he only went on to explain to us that PESIT is the name of a college in Bangalore, in fact one of the best ones in Karnataka. He further talked about its placement records and other things. But we were not at all interested in listening to him, perfectly exemplifying how dumb we actually were.

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Ladki Ko Mana Kar Diya

It was a Calculus class and as the teacher (Prof. K.C Sinha) finished writing the question on the black board, I saw Ayaan fiercely writing some Greek symbols in his notebook and his other hand straight up in the air, defying gravity and making a statement Sir, I have solved it first. Sitting on the first bench was based on our firm belief supported by the electromagnetic theory that the field is strongest near its source and decreases with distance.

As the class ended, we waited for about 10 minutes till 300 odd students made their way out from the rear end of the class. As I was about to kick-start my scooter, a girl approached Ayaan and asked Ayaan, would you please help me with some Maths topic over a cup of tea? Ayaan and I shared the same bandwidth in terms of dumbness. He was thinking the same thing that was going in my mind. Abe, ye ladki to mera time waste karegi, paise waste karegi and mere notes lekar IIT me better rank le aayegi.

After playing with thoughts, Ayaan replied in a stern voice No. Disappointed, the girl left. Without giving even a second glance to the girl, we left on my 82 model Bajaj Priya characterised with sluggish break and enough noise coming from its body to compensate for its lack of horn. As we were moving on Boring Road riding my antique scooter, a bicycle wala almost crushed my ego, as he was parallel with my scooter and about to overtake. Somehow, I salvaged my ego by averting the overtake. ‘Anhoni hote-hote rah gayi’.

Few meters ahead we saw a guy from our coaching institute with whom we used to discuss our doubts and problems of Mathematics. Much to our surprise in fact we were shocked to see him smoking on the roadside. I told Ayaan, See what Kunal Jaipuriar is doing. He is smoking! He won’t be cracking IIT as he smokes. So, let’s sever our terms with him. Ayaan nodded in affirmation and we moved ahead. Such was our dedication to the cause. We just had to get through the IIT exams.

After few months of our so-called serious preparation, we finally appeared for our so-called ‘Agni Pariksha’ (Yes, IIT-JEE Exam). We did appear for other entrance examinations too under our parent’s pressure, but that was just for mere formality.

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And The Result

Well, D-Day was finally upon us. It was at 8 in the morning when Malay called me up and said Abe Saale, result aa gaya. Jaldi aa, dekhne sath me chalenge. I jumped out of bed with a mixed feeling of excitement and ‘result-phobia’. Although I was curious to know the results but at the same time, I was shaking with nervousness too. No, No… Please don’t misunderstand me, the nervousness was not about my selection, but my concern was whether or not I would be able to crack IIT Kanpur or IIT Bombay. (Jazbaat Dekhiye!!)

My parents helped me gather my nerves. They asked me to pray with faith, explaining that it would indeed help me to excel in the IIT-JEE exams. I also thought ‘Ab to bhagwan bhi hai sath to fir tension ki kya baat, Ab to koi IIT Kanpur hone se rok nahi sakta’.

I picked Malay up and we both went to a cybercafé named ‘Love Nest’ with cabin facility. Of course, the cabin facility was irrelevant to us at that time. The IIT webpage welcomed us and then we got the link for checking the JEE results. We entered our roll numbers and pressed the ‘Enter’ button simultaneously. While the server was taking time, we were waiting to see our ranks under the top 100. Malay told the owner of cybercafé Ka Bhaiya… Bahut slow hai computer, Pentium-1 lagaye huye hai kya? and after few seconds the message appeared on both the screens: ‘Sorry, Not Qualified’.

We were shocked as our dreams lay shattered in front of our very eyes. It was difficult to believe, and we almost shouted at the cyber café’s owner ye kaisa computer hai? Dikhne me fit-faat par actual me Mokama ghat. Galat result dikha raha hai.

He tried to explain that he couldn’t do anything because result to IIT walo ne nikala hai. We came back from cybercafé disheartened and dejected. Our parents tried to console us, but it was not that easy. I don’t know what came to our mind that eventually forced us to recheck our results. Malay was somehow convinced and told me Yaar, computer bhi to galti kar sakta hai, aakhir hai to machine hi and these words enthused me to go back and recheck our results. We returned to the same cybercafé ‘Love Nest’ filled with hope, but unfortunately the same message: ‘Sorry, Not Qualified’ appeared.

At that moment, Kunal, the guy whom we ruled out of contention for IITs just because he was having a fag and the girl who’d asked Ayaan for help, entered hand in hand with a smile on their face which portrayed their success. We tried to avoid them, but this was their day. They both had good enough ranks to make it to IIT Kanpur or IIT Bombay. Somewhere in our distant minds, an old song played, apt for the situation- ‘Dil ke armaa, aansoon me bah gaye’ and another thought ‘Sala uske paas to ab IIT bhi hai aur ladki bhi hai par hamare paas kya hai?’

This was almost ‘THE END’ to our engineering dream but thanks to our parents, who knew us, better than ourselves, and made us appear for other engineering entrance examinations too. So, we still had something to wait for as the results were expected in a month.

A New Life, A

New Beginning

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Doobte Ko Tinke Ka Sahara

We both were obviously disappointed with not qualifying for the IIT JEE exam but as someone has rightly said Waqt har gam ko bhula deta hai. We realized that despite our so-called serious preparation and some serious sacrifices, we failed. I asked Malay Don’t you think we should give it one more try?

Malay replied with a sore throat as if he badly needed some amplifier I think so, but as you know our parents, they don’t want us to lose a year.

I replied I know, but I am sure we will make it this time. Anyway, we don’t have anything in our hand. I am not very hopeful for Karnataka CET results. We prepared hard for IIT, not for CET.

Before Malay could reply anything, we were called to the guest room where our family friends, relatives, and some other uninvited neighbors were sitting and waiting anxiously for us to start a fresh torturing Gyan session. It was at that time we both realized that relatives’ talks are always relative.

We entered the guest room and Gope uncle said, Don’t lose hope, God is there, He would make things easy. Malay was getting irritated as I could simply see his eyes but getting a hold of his anger and irritation, he said,

We are not losing hope, we will prepare again.

Before I could add some supporting arguments, my mom raised her eyebrows and said Wait for other results. Losing a year is not at all good. Jinka IIT me nahi hua, wo log bhi life me accha karte hain. Gope Ji aap hi samjhayiye in dono ko.

Gope uncle had an extraordinary quality of advising people with extra interest despite his own feeble qualifications and misplaced social understanding. One of his famous dialogues during those days was Paris Pope Ka Aur Patna Gope Ka. He also used to wear specs just to portray the so-called intellectual look. Gope uncle started fabricating his thoughts and within a few seconds reemitted at us (His mind could beat Pentium 5 in terms of processing useless thoughts)

Look, I have seen many people; I have got the experience and that is the reason I want to guide you guys. Becoming an engineer is so important. otherwise, you won’t be able to survive in today’s world. I know a guy who can help you to get a seat in a premier Engineering College in Maharashtra. I have made careers of many people and you boys are like my family.

One after the other, everyone in the room except us started supporting Gope Uncle and we were made to listen to a few tales of ‘Paswan ji ki beti ne ye kiya’, ‘Yadav ji ke bete ka yaha ho gaya’, ‘Mishra ji ke beti ki 3-4 naukri lag gayi’. Gope uncle was trying hard to convince us for the seat in some engineering college in Maharashtra and would have definitely made some money on the side through the admissions agent. But our parents had their own misplaced faith in him as for them getting admission in an ‘Engineering College’ was the most important thing rather than validating the integrity of Gope Uncle.

Malay was upset with the whole drama of the so-called round table conference and said Tomorrow, the result of Karnataka CET is expected so please wait for it before taking any decision. I didn’t say anything as I was cursing Gope Uncle in my mind. This was my way of letting out the frustration and I needed to concentrate for the same.

The next morning, we both were ready to check our Karnataka CET results but this time we both were nervous. We headed towards the cybercafé ‘Love Nest’ on Malay’s one and only 82-model Bajaj Priya Scooter. As we reached the ‘Love Nest’ cybercafé, the cloud around my head was gone. It was in the sky spewing rain on the exploded Sun’s dying embers. There was a whole lot of confusion around us. I could see others checking their results. I didn’t have the guts to check the result myself, so I asked Malay to check for me too and gave him my admit card. This was also based on a superstitious view that I might not be lucky so it’s better to ask Malay to check for me too. It may seem absurd; it is what I firmly believed at that moment.

I stood outside the cybercafé, staring into the vast sky. Moments later, I saw Malay coming out. I also saw people shrieking, shattering, but it was all as if they were at a tremendous distance. I saw Malay coming out of the cabin of Love Nest cybercafé. I watched his lips move, but I couldn’t hear his voice. It took me few minutes to open my eyes and find my voice.

What happened? I asked. He remained quiet. His five seconds of silence killed me like anything. Before I could repeat my question, he said, We got ranks. This was the most illogical answer; I mean whoever writes Karnataka CET gets a rank, big deal!! I asked him please drama mat karo, batao na kya hua.

He then said, we have got good ranks, mine is all India rank 194 and yours is all India Rank 203. I felt more alive and awake than I had ever in my life. Our lives suddenly seemed to have a direction. Those shattered dreams now seemed to take shape again.

I asked Malay Sala ye kaise ho gaya, CET ke liye humlogo ne padhayi ki nahi, IIT ke liye padhayi ki thi par hua nahi… zamane ka ajeeb dastoor hai… langoor ke paas bhi angoor hai.

Malay smiled and said Chalo ab drama choro, let’s go home. I am happy that we will get rid of Gope Uncle now. I nodded in affirmation.

When we got back home, and everyone was waiting for us anxiously. Our parents were relieved to know that we would not be losing a year to prepare for further engineering entrance exams. Malay’s dad ordered sweets and snacks to celebrate our success. We were not super excited with our results, but we were relatively happy to see our parents happy.

Malay’s dad was diabetic so we all assumed that he wouldn’t be eating Jalebis and Rosogullas but to our surprise and dismay I must add, he took one jalebi just to taste, as he calmly put it. He was not intending to eat all the jalebis and rosogullas kept on the table. Before he could take a bite of a Jalebi in his mouth, there came Malay’s mom who just saw uncle trying to eat the jalebi. She became furious and forgot that we were there to celebrate our so-called success in the Karnataka CET exam.

She started shouting and told uncle Ye koi khane ki cheez hai, doctor ne mana kiya tha na, aapko ye baat samajh me nahi aati? Jab dekho meetha khane ka try karte rahte hain. It was as if everything became stand still. All of us including Malay were quiet, waiting for her temper to simmer down. Malay’s dad didn’t utter a single word and was just watching aunt’s face as well as ours. Again, Malay’s mom asked uncle Ab to nahi khaiyega na? Hum pareshan ho jaate hain ye dekh kar… Ye bhi koi khane ki cheez hai?

Then uncle replied by showing his one hand towards his own brain khane ki cheez to ye bhi nahi hai par pichle 25 saal se aap mera dimag kha rahi hain ki nahin? When Gope uncle got to know about our results, his artificial smile was enough to make us understand his pain of losing money, which he could have made through admission agent for Maharashtra Engineering Colleges. It was as if we stole his girlfriend. We knew that we would get admission in some college but still were not sure about the branch that we were going to get and the reputation of the college. Everything now depended on the national counselling and our luck. Malay started doing R&D and kept on applying his skills of permutation & combination to find out which college and what branch we might get. Our first few preferences were the NIT’s in Surathkal, Warangal, Trichy, and IIIT Hyderabad but I was quite skeptical of getting those institutes, as our AIEEE ranks were not good enough to get those institutes. And during those days I had become quite religious and instead of some bhajan or Hanuman Chalisa, I used to sing-

Sometimes the things that we cannot change end up changing us. After the first round of national counselling for Karnataka Engineering Colleges, we both got Computer Science branch in one of the top colleges of Karnataka. Yes, ‘PESIT’ and this was not through ‘pay seat’, instead it was based on our ranks. 

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The Turning Brains on

The Running Train

It was the first time we were both were stepping out of our hometown to spend four years in another city to pursue our engineering dreams. There existed a nervousness that was becoming increasingly evident as the day of departure came closer. Just a day before we left from Patna, Gope uncle resurfaced in our guest room. He started with his usual gyan, trying to set the premise for his narcissism. But this time he did something more, he tried to scare the hell out of us. Our spirits were already on the spiral downward trap as we were leaving home and our mothers.

Before this moment, it had never occurred to us that our mothers would not be there to comfort us, to wake us up for breakfast, to sit by our side when we fall ill. I looked up at Maa where she was serving tea to Gope uncle, and she looked back as if she knew I need her at this very moment. She slowly blinked her eyes assuring me to not worry. I wondered how she read my mind so precisely, every time. I even hated her, at times, for that Momly power. While I was a bit engaged with my thoughts, trying to quantify and figure out the maxima & minima of my emotions, Gope uncle broke my concentration and started what he was best at, telling his own stories to people around. Being inconsiderate to the situation, he started saying Do you guys know that Ragging has become a monstrous problem these days.

As the word ragging fell on my eardrums, I transformed from being the tearful one to the earful one. He referred to the torturous tradition of ragging in the so-called popular colleges. He continued to darken our mood by saying that students from Bihar and UP are humiliated and slapped around more than usual. While narrating this, his hands followed the pattern of a simple pendulum, and his eyes seemed a bit intense to exaggerate and maintain some kind of pseudo gravity of the context.

Again the Momly power came to rescue us from the bleak scenario. Thankfully, sensing our discomfort, my mother came to our rescue.

She humbly said, Gope Ji I need to take the kids out for some shopping". Gope Ji was visibly perturbed by the sudden and forced end to his one-sided conversation. As Gope Ji left, we went to get some basic requirements from the market such as ‘Navratan Oil- Yes that one… Thanda Thanda Cool Cool Wala’, Pudin Hara, Hajmola, some clothing & medicines. I saw Ayaan proactively taking part in the selection of things along with his mom but somewhere in my psyche the imagery of ragging Gope uncle had planted started to haunt me.

The countable number of hours that we had slowly slid away from our hands and the next day we were at Patna Railway Station Platform no 3, waiting for the ‘Sanghmitra Express’ train.

We were in all four travelers- Me, Ayaan, his mother and my mother, being escorted by 11 relatives for the well-known Indian see off. Last-minute advices were pouring in like cats and dogs, one of which I distinctly remember. My Mausi said You guys are going there to study, do well aur haa… Kisi south Indian ladki ke chakkar me mat fass jana. We did not know how to react but nodded in agreement. Then out of the blue, mausaji shouted, Arre signal ho gaya- jaldi baitho. The four of us boarded the train and took our respective seats. Our mothers were visibly upset for not getting the lower berth- and I could only wonder how that was a matter of concern.

As the train started to move briskly, and the landscape started to move in a continuous, this motion felt surreal, and my memories of Patna replaced the physical landscape. Metamorphic me started to see myself at different phases of life- me playing merry–go-round at St. Michaels High School, going to Gandhi Maidan at morning 5:30