"What do you propose?"
"The algorithm is feasible enough. Except..."
"X, right?" Atul nodded. Abhi looked over to Armaan and continued, "I told you. We should have a smaller value for X. Six is a lengthy constant." Armaan, kneeling on the floor besides Atul who had taken his seat at the desk, ran a hand through his hair, fleetingly flinched as it brushed over the bandage on his temple accidentally.
"I'm not disputing. But... " he paused, with a half shrug of consideration. "Its like bare minimum. I've been scanning albums all of last week. I can't find anything reasonable with lesser instruments." Abhimanyu got up from his spot on the floor against the frame of table and paced the room in thoughtful strides. Atul continued browsing through the list of steps on the screen, drumming his fingers lightly.
Abhimanyu had finally learned about Armaan's major project proposal the evening before. And despite his personal alter preference, he had to approve, even applaud the idea for its ingenuity. So much, that he put himself to reading up the background literature they would need for the progressing stages of the project right after dinner. When Armaan had walked into their room early this morning to grab his coffee mug that had been left the previous night he had rubbed his eyes an extra time, to make sure it was Abhimanyu before him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and books as he sat typing away on his laptop, on a Friday with no due assignments for at least until next week. The objective statement, he had announced without looking up, was formally ready to be presented. Armaan had only grinned. Unlike the never ending list of reasons they could fight and disagree over, Modi and him were a team for only one. They had minds of their own, and if something had to be done, they didn't spend time reflecting anymore - a trait they shared, empathized and understood in each other. Not always appreciated though, there was no dearth of rash decisions both of them had taken in effect, but!
Presently, having that initial bit dealt with, they were working on a rough outline of the procedure. The abstract had to be submitted before Diwali break which still gave them some time, but they were, each on his own dwelling in the potential of the idea for now, too much to bother with that leisure.
"The code will be complicated. But assuming for a moment I can work it out, how many simultaneous inputs will the oscilloscope process?" Atul pointed out.
"I was assuming we'd employ differentials for that. To club differences in pairs." Abhi looked for confirmation.
"Correct." In contemplation, Armaan affirmed for him, "Which means we need differences large enough for detection on the scope. So the beats have to be distinctly apart. Hence a minimum frequency gap constraint, between individual waves paired, and between individual pairs." He looked up to both expecting them to draw the conclusion this led them to, then said it anyways, "Which brings us back to having a certain number of instruments which are different enough from each other. Its easier to distinguish... say a guitar from a keyboard, than two of a kind playing different notes... right?"
"I reckon yes," Abhimanyu didn't disagree, "The frequency gaps for same instruments could be impractical with the apparatus available. So X remains equal to six..."
"Fine." Atul nodded, "Let me see what I can do with the code. But six is gonna be rigorous."
"Yeh. We may need improvisations," Armaan accepted. "How long would you take with he code?"
"Well the whole thing is going to be cumbersome. But if you come to the lab tomorrow we can test the credibility of banking on the idea at least."
"Tomorrow... ?" Abhi shot instantly, his expression priceless. In an attempt to not laugh, Armaan snorted, then said, by way of casually informing Atul,
"Its Saturday champ!"
"I know. Like its Friday today... and Sunday day after. So... ?"
"So just that its Saturday tomorrow. Even if today was Monday and day after Wednesday, it would still be Saturday tomorrow." He chuckled alone at his own joke, Abhi made a face, Atul just looked at him.
"Ammy? That injury damage your brain?" Armaan looked unabashed and smug, everything far from offended, and shook his head dutifully. Then he got up and walked towards Abhi who gave him a wary look.
"Your room mate doesn't know?" A charged smile lit his face as he rest a lazy elbow on Abhimanyu's shoulder who jerked it off with a glare; Atul looked in part puzzled, and mostly not interested enough.
"Whatever! Like I care." and turned back to the screen.
"Oh but Champ!" Armaan started with an extra emphasis on calling him so, "She might... " he paused tactfully, and it was only a bare second before Atul had turned back with an eye raised mostly to the tone used, "Care... you know?" At the second pause, Armaan shot Abhi a brief look, the glint in which was enough for the latter. Unexpectedly, he broke into a wide grin, and of his own accord this time slung an arm over Armaan's shoulder. Atul was skeptical instantly, at this rare display of otherwise latent brotherly bonding.
"Atul... I 'oops' forgot to tell you..." Abhimanyu sounded gravely apologetic, as if to make up for the lack of it in his expression.
"What?"
"So you care?" At the posed innocence in Armaan's eyes, Atul rolled his own.
"You should." Abhimanyu sagely advised.
"If you need a code, from ME, its lab 'tomorrow'."
He appeared calm enough on the outside turning back to the screen, except the words gave away his irritation, something he was surprised about at himself for. Abhimanyu turned around abruptly pursing his lips before a laugh escaped him. Armaan who was pushing the hair off his eyes scratched the bruise again by mistake, winced through what was meant to be a grin. Patting it gently, he replied, in a flat tone of resignation.
"Whatever you say... champ." then paused, and in the quietest, most cautious, almost sorry words added, "I'm sure Anjali will understand." With no special emphasis on the name. There wasn't need for that.
The next few seconds were a simulation of 'pin-drop-silence' in the literal implication of the phrase. From the corner of his eye Armaan saw Abhimanyu clap not one but both his hands over his mouth shaking his head at himself without turning around to face the other two. Before him, Atul sat, also with his back upon them, which did not conceal the almost stiff straightening of his posture, insignificant a change though it was, and the hand which remained mid air half way to reaching out for a book on the shelf. The fingers curled and withdrew themselves, like a reaction in slow motion.
When he turned around to face them, Armaan made sure his smile was seen before it was wiped off, not like Atul had a reason to doubt the lack of virtue in this act. Then hastily he pulled Abhi to turn around, who half stumbled before standing straight next to him as before. And without planning to, the two of them put hands behind their backs, and heads lowered like young boys about to be ordered detention. Of course, the heads were lowered only enough to feign hiding the insinuating smirks, and while Abhimany's hands behind his back were clenched from giving away the anyhow easily detectable facade, Armaan was slowly, mentally counting backwards on the fingers of his hands. Didn't relentless teasers bear unassuming exteriors as a general rule?
"A... Ahem... Anjali... ?"
An anticipation apparent in his tone Atul unfortunately forgot to check, but it was a matter of seconds before he changed his mind. Carefully he scanned their faces, trying to determine if all of this was, apart from being cheap stake to easy entertainment at his expense, also a complete cock-and-bull tale. They, neither spoke, and if he knew better, they were in no hurry to cooperate. Not until he gave in. Mentally, that lesser part of his mind which was not telling him to ignore the idiots and go back to work, made him speak, "What about her?" This time there was a high riding suspicion. Armaan took the liberty to 'misinterpret' it anyways.
"So you care now?"
Atul mildly mused how he was letting them talk him into any of this. With Armaan on the other side. Giving up twice, however, was going too far. Defiantly, a third time, he faced them with his back and announced,
"No. I don't."
"Okay." Armaan turned to Abhimanyu. "I'm going to attend the 3PM lecture. You coming?" The last bit was hardly a question with an option. Abhi made to follow when Armaan added, "Don't you need a register?" In a voice so serious that Abhimanyu, at least for a fraction of a second was uncertain if the act truly had been called off. "Grab one for me too." The voice didn't alter, neither did the expression, but it was his cue. A register... not a puzzle book? Sure! Inwardly Abhimanyu smiled, outwardly he turned to Atul.
"Toss them over, will you champ?" Simply, no emotion misplaced. Atul, who had missed not a word of the conversation cursed mentally. Then turned around and looked at them.
"Fine. Tell me." Armaan showed a sudden, animated interest in a regular, cap-less, Reynolds ball pen which had mysteriously appeared in his hands and in high probability didn't work. Abhimanyu looked from him to the pen, to Atul, back, then down to his feet rolling his tongue. "Alright Malik. I care. Aren't you delighted?"
Armaan turned to him and flashed a precious, amicable smile to the sardonic rhetoric. "Very!" He spoke so full of mischief that Atul had to look away lest the grin tempted him. When he faced up again Armaan went on, "And I know. Of course you care!" Making him throw his head back, make a bad face to the ceiling above and groan.
"Can we please... "
"She invited you for a party tomorrow." He was cut off.
And most unusually, even impossibly, Atul's face did something it was absolutely not accustomed to. It revealed an expression resembling shock. His eyes popped wide, and remained before an untimely snort escaped Abhimanyu, to which Atul hastily recovered. He opened his mouth to say something then shut it, lowered his eyes, frowned in thought, from the look his lips moved in a mumbling that had no sound, and finally he looked back up to the two of them.
"You're... " he started at last breaking the silence, "I mean... how... why... would she?"
"Maybe she likes you..." Armaan suggested.
"You lucky dog!" Abhimanyu jeered, in no polite intention. Atul threw him a dirty look. Then turned back to Armaan with a tone of finality.
"Ammy..."
Armaan held up the 'V' calling truce. "Its Chic-N's 'happy' birthday tomorrow!" And announced without a warning. Abhimanyu's hand that had risen for a high five, fell back unceremoniously.
"Chicken?" Atul had barely spoken before he was shocked a second time in under a minute when Armaan laughed out loud. He figured it wasn't about him this time, from the sudden loss of humor on Abhimanyu's face. Perhaps from having been a victim seconds ago, he almost sympathized. Without understanding why. Armaan offered an inadvertent 'told-you-so' wave of his hands in gracious response to the murderous look he received.
"Nikita's birthday," Abhimanyu hissed and Atul on catching the words came vaguely close to making sense. Then shook his head at Armaan, in partially grudging amusement. "The girls invited us for her surprise birthday dinner tomorrow." He completed, pulling himself an empty cardboard carton, examining momentarily and carelessly its strength, before sitting on it.
"Dinner sounds good," Atul declared, anything to escape the mess meals.
"Just dinner, Champ?!" More laughter filled the room, as the chat continued. The 3PM lecture, if it hadn't been one invented for the heck, remained easily forgotten...
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"Perfect!"
She whispered to the reflection of herself in the mirror upon locking the second of her silver hoops into the ear, standing upright to see the final outcome. Tossing a length of the lightly permed hair off her shoulder she touched over the shimmery pink fabric in a cautious admiration. It was only indicatively off shoulder to reveal a lone pricey silver chain in her neck, the sleeves ended at her wrists in pretty delicate frills, identical as that which laced the chiffon all around at the bottom just above her knees where the dress ended. Her eyes went down all the way to the open toed and closed back pointy silver heels. Yes. She quite liked what she saw. There was an astonishingly clear perception in her mind of what his reaction would be, like she knew what to expect intuitively. Yet, the anticipation of having it come her way not long from now gave her that fluttering sensation of butterflies; the one she had become familiar with only recently.
"Deep breathing Nikki," she ordered herself in a murmur, inhaling consciously, and the whiff of her own perfume made her smile. And blush. Lost in a web of thoughts which were mostly ideas of the different ways in which he could compliment her, and further contemplation of how she would respond, befittingly, her eyes wandered to an arbitrary point mid air and remained suspended, unblinking.
It was hence that Anjali found her. The door of the room left half ajar had made her remove her own gray belly shoes with ribbon bows, which dangled off the fingers of one hand, while the other clutched onto a matching sequined little purse and a stole cut pale gray pashmina. As she proceeded to tip toe past the room, which was no appealing idea to her - the floor dusty, cold and uninviting to be tread upon barefoot - she frowned in disdain. But her ever given to sense couldn't risk a sound, if she had to sneak past without drawing attention to herself, as was the idea.
An inevitable and rather fugitive glance into the room two steps ahead, told her all the heels in the world could have gone clanking down the hallway, with complete lack of rhythm, for all Nikki would have cared. On second thoughts, to be fair to her, for all she would have noticed to care about. Anjali paused her quiet steps at the reflection of her friend in the mirror, particularly the expression.
It was a good thing she had done, asking Atul if the guys needed a ride. They had gladly accepted of course, and she had been now, therefore, on her way to pick them up. Nikki would later be fed some excuse of the power yoga class that had detained her, by either of the other two, and it was essential as a result that Anjali get out of the hostel without being spotted, or there would be no way to explain why she was dressed in a satin royal blue halter neck top over the gray knee length wrap around instead of a more likely pair of sweat pants and jacket.
She would take this chance to know him. Her first real chance. Their only conversation to have lasted for over one minute had been at the exhibition, and that could barely suffice for a real interaction. Ridhima had something vaguely about him at the fest, of how she had played the prank only cause she believed he didn't look the psychotic revenge seeking kind, which she had to agree with once she saw him on the RDX floor. Nikki had disagreed of course, vehemently, then. At this her eyes turned up for another look at the latter as she stood, the world around lost upon her. It urged Anjali to pass a comment and watch the fun. But she refrained, cause now was hardly the moment. There was an entire evening ahead and she was certain it would present ample opportunities for the same. But yes, while Ridhima's general perception had not been misplaced, Anjali was also equally serious about learning greater details in regards to this guy Nikki was getting increasingly obsessed with.
Obsessed was the right word, she thought with a soundless sigh, a last look at the seemingly bewitched girl who stood before her, her dear friend so to say. Perhaps... she could ask Atul... ? Not directly of course, this was his mate she was doing back ground checks on... but, in some conversation? There was a risk of him catching cue, naturally. The guy was too seasoned to be led on. But that she had found him so mature, even unbiased she would think, was a good reason to try. And he happened to be someone who would know Abhimanyu Modi well. She would give it a shot, in an appropriate way of course.
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"Mo... " Scrunching his nose and eyes alike, Armaan never completed speaking, unable as he was in avoiding the sneeze. And a second, a third. Before he rubbed a finger lightly under his nose and frowned. "Did you shower with the damn cologne?"
"Fun-ny!" Abhi tossed back sarcastically, spraying some more.
"Really STOP! Chicken will die of asthma or something if you don't."
"Get out of here Malik. This is NOT your room."
"Thank god for that!" Armaan replied walking further in, warding off the air closest to his nose with a light hand before he could be seized by sneezing again. "Anyways, if you're done dressing up and looking pretty, come down now. And... wait a second... that is not your tie."
"Right. Its yours."
"Why do I see it on you?"
"I borrowed."
"But why are you wearing a TIE?" With a deep breath he walked on coming to stand beside Abhi and said seriously, "I said it was a birthday dinner. Not your engagement party with chicken." Abhi raised a finger ready to retort, then did not. Instead he stared back at himself in the mirror. At the pastel pink short sleeved shirt and the black sleeveless semi formal jacket coat. And the black tie.
"You think its over done?"
"I THINK?! Sure! I know!"
"Okay."
Armaan was shocked to find him loosen the knot in the following second without a word of protest, unbutton the top three buttons instead and carefully tend to the gelled spikes one last time. When Modi handed him the tie, he took it inattentively, simply looking at him.
"What now?" Abhimanyu asked, obviously. "I can't go shirtless, and this IS mine."
"Yeh." Armaan replied, without hearing what he was saying, thinking of what he wasn't. "I don't own pink."
"YOU made me PICK this up at Allen-exorbitant-Solly from the internship stipend Malik." Armaan nodded, absently, but strangely nothing in his expression was teasing. Abhi looked back at his reflection. "Maybe I should change... "
"No!" Armaan said instantly, then shook his head with conviction this time. "No, don't. It looks fine. Good." Abhimanyu looked at him some more. He did mean it. With a final glance at the mirror he nodded himself.
"Great! Come on then. Atul will be preaching civil talks all night if we make Anjali wait. You know, I still can't believe she actually asked him if we wanted a ride. I mean..."
"Abhi..." Abhimanyu, having walked to the door realized Armaan had not. And turned back to him. "You really like her." It wasn't a question. It was definitely not a jest. It was stated like a fact, simpler than whether or not a tie ought to be worn, whether or not the cologne was suffocatingly much, whether or not pink was male enough...
A shrill ringing interrupted the unspoken conversation between the thick buddies. It was Abhimanyu's cell, and Atul's call.
"Lets go," he said walking out of the door. Armaan stood another moment.
He had a sudden vision of the time he had gone bungee jumping as a younger pre teen, tall enough to go optimum height. There had been a thrill of getting into something his age should not have permitted. A delicious sense of adventure in the danger involved. In those moments when he was being secured with the belts, the height he was at had become more than an enumerated count of feet. When they had let him go, the free fall had become evidence of how deep a plunge he had taken - a reality he had known all along had become apparent only in that moment.
Armaan cleared his throat, and walked to the door, briskly, discarding the tie on his way out.
*******************************************
"Hi guys!... Hey... Armaan?" Abhi and Atul eyed him briefly at the singled out acknowledgment. Especially the questioning emphasis in it.
"Hi." Armaan replied surprised himself, "Anjali... !"
"I thought you were not coming?"
"I wasn't?" He tried to keep up the smile, at least politely. Now why would she say this? There was nothing cool about not being expected, really...
Anjali shrugged. "Apparently Ridzi thought you mentioned some work for tonight."
"Work?" Abhimanyu quipped, his eyes searching Armaan who appeared unexpectedly confronted. "Tonight?!" He couldn't help the mocking note from creeping into that exclamation. Neither the smirk on his face, as he turned it back to find Anjali's eyes upon himself, a bit too keen for his comfort, before they traveled to the bunched assortment of roses in his hand. "Uh... Hi!" Hastily he added a smile when she looked back up.
"I got done. Just... just assignments." Armaan, having rediscovered his ability to construct sentences, replied. A fishy reply, Abhimanyu decided.
"Assignments... of course." Anjali finally found reason to turn her attention to Atul, who smiled at her, partially in compensation for the loss of a chance to greet formerly, and elaborated, "Busy weekend." As if he was aware how far his word could go to seal the talk. And even in the outward absence of mockery and a smirk, Armaan would have been a fool to miss the point, made far more for his benefit, than Anjali's.
"Well I'm glad you could make it then," Anjali said genuinely sounding it, "Leave, shall we?" She walked to the driver's seat, and there was no debate among the other three over the passenger seat.
"Working, eh?" Abhimanyu whispered once the two of them were settled into the rear seat. Armaan ignored him for one, as his mind for another, worked intricately on the various implications of his current situation. In a distant thought he registered the familiar aerosol freshener of the car, and almost as if the realization had tickled his nose, he sneezed again.
"Bless You!" The two in the front spoke in unison.
Anjali clicked her tongue lightly catching Atul's eye before they both looked away and ahead. Abhimanyu would have done more than rolling his tongue if his gaze had not clashed Anjali's in the rear view. Tentatively, he smiled at her instead, and was almost surprised when she returned the gesture. Armaan ran a hand through the, intentionally lacking organization, hair falling over his eyes. Disturbing the bandage as usual, then pat it out of this habit of few days. Ridhima's car, he mused, having not noticed from the outside taken then as he was, by the unlikely welcome.Abhimanyu cleared his throat, normally, but enough to regain Armaan's attention.
"When exactly did you get the time to 'mis' - inform Ridhima about this packed schedule of yours?" he continued in w ahisper like the topic had never been dropped. Armaan concentrated on giving his rugged denims a fold each just over the light colored closed suede shoes. "Such white lies..." From the corner of his eye he saw Abhi pretend pondering, "Or was this to surprise your sweetheart?" Finally he threw him a glare. Modi gave a lopsided smile at this belated reaction he had managed to elicit anyways. Then with a wandering inspection of the two ahead, who were busy making small talks, punched Armaan's shoulder lightly, "Its all cool with me man! I'm... " and gestured to zip his mouth. Armaan remained quiet, knowing it was best for him, and also because he was mentally trying to come to a conclusion.
She did know it was him on the call then, or did she? He wished desperately he could ask Anjali what had been Ridhima's exact words - that he was working and couldn't come, or that he, Armaan had told her so. If she knew... this would be one long, memorable evening... Slowly, looking out of the window at the continuous blur of head lights from the twilight traffic whizzing past, he let out a long breath. If she knew... he thought of her reaction to learning this fact. Her words of defense for him, to 'Abhi's' comments almost made him chuckle. What was that she had said... 'flawless dancing'... ? He wanted to laugh out loud again. Before he knew, Armaan was smiling all by himself. Boy! If she knew... if she really knew!
A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his light moment speculations. And the smug look on Abhimanyu's face sobered his own expressions. Silently, a bit curtly, he shook his head in denial to the cocked brows.
"Yeh right!" Modi hissed flashing a fake smile. He would have spoken more but his hand chanced upon something solid. Reflexively he grabbed it and lifted it in the dim light from outside against the window. Frowned trying to read the minute print over the palm sized plastic bottle of some sort.
"What is it?" Armaan asked curiously , without raising his note. Abhi handed it to him with a careless shrug. Narrowing his eyes he tried to read the letters that he could. On a hunch he opened the cap and sniffed slightly, almost sneezing again. Then looked back at it.
"Hand sanitizer." he declared. Seriously? A hand sanitizer in the car? Some cleanliness freak she had to be. Tossing it back on the seat he smirked. Obviously, she was a girl, right?! On another hunch he picked it up and turned it to the streak of light coming in from the neon street lights they had braked by at the signal. Cucumber-Melon flavor. This time he positively grinned before replacing it on the seat.
And returned to wondering... if she knew it had been him she talked to. That would be crazy... and damn fun! He even considered telling her himself... if ...
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Geet - Hui Sabse Parayee
Bade Achche Lagte Hain Naya Season
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