Jack and Jill

I spotted Jagjeet on the first night of my orientation week. I’d been preparing to introduce myself. This would be the wonderful beginning to many years of precious bonding with my esteemed seniors. Yet, I found my tongue limp, dry and utterly useless as he passed mere inches away from me. The man stood six feet tall, with long, flowing, rapturous hair. He was smart but there was a certain lazy flair to him. Following the trail of his many wonderful words — ‘decentralisation of privilege’, ‘impartially administered accountability’ and, of course, ‘sex’ — I ended up inside the smoking room.
This was it. The crown jewel of Ashoka University. The tobacco stained walls that housed within them the greatest minds and lungs on campus. Jagjeet sat in the midst of it all, merely a few feet away from me. I couldn’t help but admire the way his body swayed to the tune of the conversation that wafted all around him. His impeccable jawline munched away on a hot dog and as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing and bobbing in perfect masculine rhythm. Finally, after a few minutes of getting ready to speak to him, I swallowed my spit and walked up to him. As I got closer I wondered if I seemed gay. That simply wouldn’t do. I didn’t really know what ‘being gay’ meant but I decided to rub a nearby cigarette on my palms, so I wouldn’t smell too much like it. No second chances. At an appropriate distance I began, “Hey man. The name’s Shaka Raipar. Bhankara Shaka Raipar. I’m new around here. Tell me what’s good”. He looked at me for a moment and threw his half-eaten hot-dog at my face. Oh man, was it good.
As it turned out, Jaggy (as his friends — which includes me — call him) was drunk. What a cool guy. I walked away that day, oil stains on my shirt and ketchup dripping off my chin, smiling, knowing that I had been accepted as one of them. Later that night I would draw several sketches of the scene. I fingered the ketchup on my face and then smeared the sticky substance all over the sketches. He liked me. He really did.
As it so happened, I ran into Jaggy on the first night of my second orientation week as well. He was roaming around behind the science block with a fresh, first year female. Is that what they’re called? Oh..wait no, a fresher, a female fresher. Yes. That was it!
I, too, was chilling around those parts. In fact, I had sneaked into the biology lab to spend more time with the spiders. We were both pretty cool like that. Upon seeing my good ol’ buddy Jaggy I smiled, “Hey, remember me! I’m your friend! We met last year!”. Jagjeet and his female fresher walked right through me. I found that quite odd as I’ve never had cavities in my chest — only in my incisors, canines, molars and premolars. After a bit I decided to follow them. I pressed as close to them as I could without being noticed, which got me pretty close.
Jagjeet addressed the girl next to him, “Listen Jeevat, you’re a pretty cool girl”.
The part of Jeevat’s identity which understood sexual politics resisted but the first year in her smiled. This was some high quality third year validation. Just spending time with this guy on the first night would be enough to keep her going throughout the week. “But there’s a lot you don’t know.” Her smile faded. “Since you’re new, I’m going to go easy on you but here at Ashoka, nobody believes in monogamy. It’s like an unspoken rule.”
She replied, curious “So, what do you want me to do?”
“Me? I don’t want you to do anything. Don’t you know that I’m a feminist? I’m just telling you what your choices are. Your real choices.” Jagjeet knew he had her now.
Jeevat responded, confused, “But I have a boyfriend in Delhi! I can’t!”. They had reached the admin block.
Jagjeet quipped “Your boyfriend’s a social construct” with the same ease as which he pressed the button on the lift. He continued, “Do you think it matters what your relationship with him is? You’ve decided that. You’ve created an artificial contract. None of you know of love. None of you know of agency. You’ve just been a plaything of the forces to be, dragged out from the depths of the abyss, hurtled forward, creating promises and codes, unaware of your power.” They reached the fifth floor. Dance studio. “I can show you your power. You real power.”
I would like to say that Jeevat’s eyes lit up, emerald, as she chomped down on his neck, as he had done to that hotdog. However, this was just her first night. She was still sane. And quite scared.
Somehow, they hadn’t noticed me in the lift with them, and so I went and made myself comfortable inside one of the beanbags.
Jagjeet was still rambling on about the absurdity of existence, about the search for true power. He had also set up camp in his pants. And the camp was growing. Chants from around the bonfire of his bulge began to serenade the two prospective lovers.
They shrieked, “BHANKARA LEAVE US! BHANKARA LEAVE US!”. I expected maniacal laughter but for some reason Jaggy was crying. I didn’t even know that guys who got laid could do that. I assumed there was a hymen equivalent for male tear-ducts.
Jagjeet was sobbing now, apologising for his own lack of clarity.
Jeevat inched towards the door.
I, too, was about to burst. Not into tears but out of my bean bag, into the room.
The chants from Jaggy’s pants turned into a faraway echo. It was the buildings that were chanting now — science block, new academic, old academic, the faculty residence. In fact, they were singing: “JAGJEET LEAVE US! JAGJEET LEAVE US!”. They proclaimed, “You are now ready to speak with him. You have earned graduation. May the labour of your college days and the ambition of your endless pursuit of truth render loneliness your life-long bride, your one and only intoxicant for life!”
Jaggy opened the windows of the dance studio and whispered, “I see you, Bhankara”. My beautiful bean bag burst into tears, the puffed-up white balls wailing all down the walls. Jaggy stood on the precipice of his final graduation, jerked himself off one last time and took off, forever, into the Sonepat Skies.
Jaggy and Jeev, went up admin block.
To get some tail but just left water.
Jack flew up and never came down.
And Jill joined him a few years after.
